turning home; and so I have invited him to come to our village and see my cotton factory. I should like, Mrs. Chapman, to introduce him to you and Emily while we are here, and that may induce him more willingly to call on us should he go to Connecticut.

Mrs. Chapman eagerly assented. She fancied she should appear to excellent advantage when there was not a crowd of ladies around; and she never once dreamed that the gay, and, as she thought her, the childish Emily, would attract the notice of a man who conversed so sensibly and seriously with her husband about, plantations and manufactories, &c.

During Mr. Chapman's absence in quest of his new friend, Emily Woodworth changed her seat more than once-even Mrs. Chapman, occupied as she was with the idea of her own importance, observed that something agitated the girl, and carelessly inquired what disturbed her. But Emily, with her usual arch smile, assured her she was not disturbedand it is not known to this day whether a suspicion, that the dark-eyed cavalier was the person her guardian would introduce, ever entered her mind.

Mrs. Chapman was much pleased with Mr. Sinclair, and remarked several times after he had gone, that he was the handsomest and most accomplished southern man she had seen. 'I think him,' said she, ' a perfect gentleman, and really hope he will come to our village and visit us.'

'I presume he will come to our village,' said Mr. Chapman, looking at Emily with a most provoking glance of intelligence; 'but whether, Mrs. Chapman, he will visit you and I, is, I think, very doubtful.'

'Pray, who will he visit then? He said he had no acquaintances there,' exclaimed Mrs. Chapman. Perhaps Emily can guess,' said Mr. Chapman. But Emily left the room immediately without attempting to guess.

Henry Sinclair made, as he said, the tour of Connecticut. Certainly he tarried in that state several weeks, and was so delighted with the climate, scenery, society, &c. that he returned the next year, and the next-and then persuaded Emily to accompany him to North Carolina, where he introduced her to his friends as Mrs. Sinclair.

The domestic happiness of this amiable couple is often mentioned by Mr. Chapman, and he declares that, in his opinion, the best method of promoting harmony between the different sections of our Union would be to promote intermarriages among the inhabitants. There is,' he remarks in his humorous manner, 'there is, I find, more affinity between the youths and maidens of the North and South, than between cotton growers and cotton manufacturers.'

PREJUDICES.

"What hath come to thee? in thy hollow eye
And hueless cheek, and thine unquiet motions,
Anger, and grief, and conscience seem at war
To waste thee?"

BYRON.

On one of those small level spots, that may be found as you toil up the steep road which, running from Brattleboro' to Bennington, crosses the Green Mountain, there stood, in 1820, a little lone tenement inhabited by a woman whose name was Ranson.

Mrs. Ranson had endured strange vicissitudes of fortune, and it was reported her troubles had entirely changed her charactercertain it was that she had for several years pursued a course of conduct so extraordinary as to excite either the wonder, pity, or cer.sure of all her acquaintance. Many declared her singularities were affected to gain notorietythese were women-others thought her deranged-these were mostly men-and a few benevolent people of both sexes urged the sorrows of a broken and contrite spirit had induced her to relinquish the flattering but false world,

and seek a refuge from its vexations in her solitary abode on the Hills.

I can only give an abstract of Mrs. Ranson's story; those who regret its brevity, (if such old fashioned readers exist in this age of literary 'shreds and patches,') may easily, by the aid of a little imagination, invest these simple facts with all the complex circumstances, enchanting descriptions and interesting colloquies, of a long romance.

I am half inclined to attempt the exploit myself. This short hand mode of authorship is but a poor way of managing, if one wishes to secure either profit or fame. To manufacture a two volumed novel, hardly requires more exertion of mind, than to write a good sketch.

Isabelle Carrick was a native of the West Indies. Her mother died a few days after the girl's birth, and her father when she was twelve years old; but in the interim he had married a second wife, who bore him a boy. With that ill-judging partiality which may be termed injustice of the most cruel kind, because it completely baffles the law and often shrouds itself under pretexts that prevent the sufferer from receiving even sympathy, Mr. Carrick gave his whole property, which was very large, to his son; only stipulating that Isabelle should be educated and supported by her brother till her marriage, and should she ever become a widow, she was entitled to an annuity of one hundred pounds a year.

When the contents of the will became known, the maternal relations of Isabelle were highly

incensed, and they demanded she should be given up to them. Her stepmother, who, it was believed, had influenced her husband's will, very readily consented to relinquish all right over the portionless orphan; by that means she was freed from the necessity of educating her. Isabelle, accordingly, passed into the family of her uncle Tolbert. Some disturbances soon after occurring among the slave population, rendered Mr. Tolbert's situation at Jamaica unpleasant, and he determined to leave the Island. His wife was an American, and that was probably the reason that induced him to remove to New York rather than return to England. Isabelle, now at the interesting age of sixteen, was such a beautiful girl that her uncle had no doubt of establishing her advantageously in a country where marriage was an affair of the heart and not merely a calculation of pecuniary advantages, even though it were known she was portionless. Yet Mr. Tolbert did not intend thus to test the sincerity of those who professed to admire his niece. He had no children; he had adopted the orphan and declared her his heir, and it is no wonder she was soon the star of the city. Many connoisseurs in female charms pronounced Isabelle Carrick to be perfect in loveliness. There is no standard, there can be none of personal beauty; the feelings of the heart have more influence than rules of taste in our estimation of the human face; yet there are countenances so peculiarly fascinating, that criticism and comparison are out of the question. If the behold