brave deserve to be rewarded. Good night, Molly; Good night, Mick.' “Good night, and a merry night, and a joyful night go with you, whoever you are,' said Mick, drawing his breath, and wiping the sweat off his face. And what have we got by all this, Molly?" demanded Mick, I do not see any thing he has left.' Here it is in my breast, jewel,' answered Molly, and there,' added she, is a shilling, and another, and another, and another, and another. You are a made man, Mick. I tell you, man alive, you are a made man-my own Mick Magiveragin.' "Home they returned, left the goose-grease on the black stone to be sure; and, as the story goes, always found a shilling in the Sprè na Skillenagh. I need not tell you how Mick bought land, and built houses; how Kitty Magiveragin, and Juddy Magiveragin, and Shelah Magiveragin, made great matches, and got a large portion of shillings ; and how the sons of Mick and Molly became great linen merchants." "Thank you! thank you!" said Malony: "that is a good story, and it has a useful moral. From it we may learn, that when man and wife bravely struggle together, and help each other, they not only deserve to be, but are generally successful. No. XII. MY PARLOUR. More fuel-frost is in the air, Toss their dark branches in the breeze. O happy, on a night like this NEELE. IN the bustle of the world a man experiences constant irritation. The elegant Cowper, there`fore, naturally and beautifully apostrophizes domestic happiness as the only bliss of paradise that has survived the Fall: it is impossible, indeed, in the existing state of general society, ever to feel the pure delight, which pervades his bosom, whom smiles of love welcome home. There are moments, however, when this obvious truth flashes with peculiar force on the understanding; for it is our nature to look with indifference on what we possess, while nothing rouses apprehension or awakens sensibility. To my memory, the dearest hours of life are those which I have spent in my own parlour, surrounded by my family, when the snow drift has pattered against the windows. Thought would then expatiate upon the comforts of my happy lot, and the pictures which fancy drew of sufferings, but mentally felt, stamped the real value upon every thing tangible. The bright fire, clean hearth, neatly-arranged utensils, carpeted floor, curtained shutters, well-secured door, cheerful candles, shining furniture, were pronounced admirable gifts of invention. According to Dr. Smith, no individual exists in a civilized state, who does not depend upon thousands of his fellow creatures for the comforts he enjoys. I would at such times reflect on the co-operation it required in distant parts to surround me with so many advantages, and every extension of view had a tendency to excite gratitude to God and man. My little ones, upon such occasions, easily divined the ecstatic feelings of my heart, by the expression of my countenance; for children are excellent physiognomists, and the lively rogues would climb my knees to have a nearer view of what pleased their sight. Then, too, their angel faces seemed to beam with heavenly lustre, and their silver tongues toutter tones as sweet as the feigned music of the spheres; while their mother and the elder ones looked on, laughing approbation, or mingling the easy flow of unpremeditated remark with the thoughtless prattle of unformed sense, which is rendered fascinatingly interesting by the care that imagination takes to body forth forms, seen but in part by the optics of childhood. All this is lost to the man whose habits require late dinners, and a free circulation of the bottle. If he join his family tea-table, his brain is too much heated to enjoy the exhilarating warmth with which the steam of that delicate liquor fills the parlour; and he is more inclined to doze away the effects of overaction, than to feel the charms of simplicity. Yet this is the sweetest hour to me. |