had no claim to be admitted, and therefore was liable to continual mortification. It is astonishing how people, who might live comfortably and respectably, vex and worry themselves by a perpetual struggle to get a step higher than they are. And this is not the worst part of it; for nothing leads persons into so many mean and shabby deeds, so many storytellings and deceptions, as this vain affectation of fashion. We are too apt to laugh at it, as a mere failing: whereas, in truth, it is a sinful, unchristian habit; and, I am afraid, not only has marred the happiness, but has corrupted the hearts of many in every station of life, from the ambitious aspirant to the highest circle of exclusiveness, down to Mrs. Decorset the milliner, who wanted to pass herself off for a fine lady.

Sweet is the smile of home, the mutual look,

When hearts are of each other sure;

Sweet all the joys that crowd the household nook,
The haunt of all affections pure.

KEBLE.

"HOPKINS," said Mr. Walton to his butler, who was removing the breakfast-things, "just shut the door: I want to have a word with you."

Mr. Hopkins accordingly closed the door, and awaited his master's communication. "I am afraid," continued Mr. Walton, " that William does not go on quite so well as he ought. I had an excellent character with him when I engaged him as groom;

at least for steadiness and sobriety. Mr. Mowbray said that he wanted a little more knowledge of his business; but that I did not so much mind about, if he was a good lad. I am rather afraid, however, that he is not so steady as he ought to be."

Mr. Hopkins, contrary to his usual habit of respectful attention, had gradually turned away from his master, and mechanically began to gather up the cups and saucers, without seeming disposed to return an answer. However, Mr. Walton continued: "I look to you, Hopkins, to let me know if there is any thing seriously amiss in the family; it is not good for any servant, nor for the rest of the family, that irregularities should be suffered to go unnoticed."

"I cannot say," said Mr. Hopkins at last, "that I have noticed any thing in William's conduct which I considered it my duty to complain of to you. He is a good-natured lad. However, sir, I think, perhaps, a little talking to might do him good."

"Well," said Mr. Walton, "send him up here." William being summoned, slipped on his livery over his stable-dress, and made his appearance forthwith, with a look which at once betrayed his apprehension that he was about to receive a reprimand.

"I am sorry to say, William," said his master, "that I have reason to complain of you lately. You are a civil and obliging young man, and might do well, if you chose; but I am afraid you are getting into idle habits. Your harness does not look at all so well as it ought. Miss Anna's pony is in very different condition from what it was when I bought it three months ago."

William muttered something about the pony changing his coat, and the hay not being quite so good as it ought to be. However, Mr. Walton proceeded: "Don't try to make excuses, William ; but

L

listen to what I have to say. I expect that every servant of mine should do his duty. It is your duty to clean the harness." Mr. Walton cared as little, perhaps, about his harness, for mere appearance' sake, as most men; but he knew very well, that if the harness was neglected, William's time was not employed as it ought to be. "I expect every servant of mine to do his duty, and will not overlook any neglect of it; so I think it right to give you a fair warning. If you should leave me, and come for a character, I shall consider it my duty to set down, without exaggeration or diminution, exactly what I think of you. If I am asked whether you are civil, obliging, and honest, I shall answer that, to the best of my knowledge and belief, you are so. If I am asked as to your moral and religious conduct, I hope I may give a satisfactory answer"-(here William shuffled about a little)," but I cannot say that you are attentive to your business, unless you improve upon what you are at present. So take notice, William, that you have a character to gain; and I hope, in a short time, I shall be able to speak more satisfactorily of you. And remember, that it is a sin against God, your heavenly Master, if you do not do your duty in whatsoever station he has placed you. God has given you knowledge of his law; and by his help you may learn to live honestly, soberly, and religiously."

William went out of the room rather sulkily. At first, he thought of giving notice to leave; but then he considered that it would be difficult to get another situation. Besides, he knew very well that he could not be better off than he was, nor have a better and kinder master; and his conscience smote him that he had not served him as faithfully as he ought. The serious light, too, in which his master had viewed his conduct made a great impression on him. At last,

his good sense and better feelings prevailed; and he came to the conclusion, that the best thing he could do would be, to attend more carefully to his business, get up earlier in the morning, and not stand with his hands in his pockets gossipping with every one who came into the stable-yard; and above all, to cut the acquaintance of Ned Raikes, and one or two other idle fellows, with whom, though neither his master nor Mr. Hopkins knew it, he had been out more than once at night gambling at the public-house.

Full of these wise resolutions, William went straight into the saddle-room, and took down the harness, which had certainly been put up very carelessly the day before, and began to clean it all over again. He had not long been engaged in this occupation, before he heard a low whistle; and looking round, he saw Ned Raikes leaning with his hands over the wall.

"Well, Bill," said he, "are you for the Goose and Vulture to-night? there'll be rare doings."

However, William said, with great resolution, "No, I sha'n't go to-night, nor to-morrow night neither; in fact, I don't intend to go there any more."

Ned remonstrated, told him all the fine things which were going to happen; and seeing that he could not tempt him in this way, he began laughing at him, calling him a mean-spirited, sneaking fellow. But William was firm; his master's admonition was fresh in his mind, and he had the grace to perceive that it would have been far more mean-spirited in him to have given up what he knew was right to such an idle rogue as Ned Raikes, than to abide by his own resolution. So he resisted the temptation, and thus probably was saved from ruin by the welltimed admonition of his master.

Disagreeable events like the foregoing will sometimes happen in the best-regulated families. But,