bird-fancier and the other a newsman.

The bulk of my

Lessons for Little Ones.

THE TWO SHILLINGS.

For a year after Mr. Fortescue's death, Mary and Lucy remained in England, achieving fully the spirit of their noble work. Their project was well received by the parishes applied to, and a large body of emigrant women sent forth. Very many of the middle classes were incited by Mary's writings to leave genteel beggary for a nobler life. The school was founded a short distance from London, and committed to laborious and trusty hands.

At this time Mary and Lucy, accompanied by O'Flanagan and Twiddlesing, and a small fraction of his aviary. including the renowned "bird's-nest," and Noseby, left England, and after a prosperous voyage landed at Sydney. Here they were met by Minwaring and Elliott, the latter having come on his errand of promise to marry Lucy, and also to confide to Minwaring the secret, that wishing to invest his savings in mining property before his marriage, he had been making surveys since Lucy's absence, and thus discovered a tract of country, so boundless in its wealth, that imagination could hardly picture it. The secret was yet unknown; yet still the extent of land was beyond his power to purchase. As soon as Minwaring learnt this, it was agreed upon that a portion of Mr. Fortescue's fortune should be therein invested, as a perpetual fund for female emigration.

Two months after landing, Mary Austen and Lucy Dean were married in Sydney by the colonial bishop, amidst the greatest festivity and rejoicing,-the former proceeding onward to Camden County, with Mr. Minwaring, O'Flanagan, and Noseby; and the latter setting off soon after with her husband, Nelly, and Twiddlesingthe bird-fancier, being much concerned as to the longneglected edication of the Sweets, to Melbourne, where brave Ben not only met them, and got married at once, but with a proud and glowing heart, took Nelly across the plains to her far-off home; there for her to clasp once more her baby to her heart, and to hear it say, as it led her amidst tame parrots and kangaroos, and little cageless Sweets, "Mud'yer's coming."

In one year, this great block of country had been surveyed, purchased, and a copper-mine of inestimable value opened, which, being at once called ROBERT FORTESCUE'S WHEAL, was set down amongst other yet unwrought mines in perpetuity, for providing a large sum for annual and equal division between the Colonial and English Governments, conjointly with the annual tax before-mentioned, for free and national emigration, under certain regulations.

Both on the same day, Mary and Lucy, became mothers of boys. As soon as she was well enough, Lucy, whose baby was born at Adelaide, took the coast-voyage to Camden to see Mrs. Minwaring; and there one evening, sitting hand in hand on the broad sands, against which swept the mighty ocean, their infants couched upon one shawl beside them, the spiritual faith of both seemed to have a voice and say,-" Flow on thou mighty ocean, and tell the myriad oceans of myriad worlds, that what is boundless in them, what is deep, or what is pure, has prototype and likeness in the SOUL OF WOMAN Δ

awake; and having washed and dressed themselves, and offered up their mutual thanksgivings for the blessings which surrounded them, they ran out, hand in hand, into the garden. There they found their papa already at work, and having received his congratulations, and passed a happy hour with him amongst the choice flowers with which that sweet spot was filled, they went into breakfast, with faces blooming and bright as the roses which they had gathered to decorate the breakfast-table. Their mamma was just beginning to pour out the coffee; and beside the little white basins of bread and milk placed for the twins, were two tempting-looking square parcels of considerable bulk. The little girls would have immediately opened their birth-day presents, but Mrs. Campbell restrained their impatience, telling them to wait until their father came in. So the sisters dressed the table and the mantel-piece, and the cheffonier with the flowers, and placed one choice moss-rosebud in a small glass beside their mamma's plate. Mr. Campbell now came in, having put off his gardening-coat, and washed his hands, and while he drank his coffee the children proceeded to the inspection of their presents.

"Oh! papa, what a pretty, pretty workbox!" cried Ellen, as she unfolded the last paper of her parcel. "Now, papa, I shall like sewing better than ever. Look! Rose, look! mamma, did you ever see anything prettier ?"

But Rose was not able to look just then, for she was absorbed in equal admiration of a large and complete drawing-box. There were the double row of watercolours, the palette and tumbler, Indian-ink and crayons, and brushes and pencils of all sizes and numbers." "But, papa," suddenly exclaimed they both, "what is this shilling for?"

Each of the little girls had found a shilling in a partition of her box.

"I have not given you money before my dears," said their father, "because I wished you to be old enough to learn its value, and not to squander it upon trifles that yield no real pleasure; as I have often seen children do, when much older than yourselves. I now give each of you a shilling, with permission to spend it as you please; but, at the same time, I wish you to understand that I shall expect you to lay the money out profitably, and by your purchases I shall judge, whether or not you are fit to be trusted with more."

The little girls promised to do their best; and breakfast being over, they soon after prepared to set out with their nurse to the town, to make their purchases.

"But will not you go with us dear mamma?" said Ellen. I am sure we should manage much better with your advice."

"No, Ellen," said Rose, "mamma had better not go with us. I want to shew papa that we can lay out our money properly, by ourselves."

"Yes, Rose, it is better that I should not go with you this time. But, my love, do not be too confident. You are very young, and may easily make a mistake, and then in proportion to your previous confidence in yourself will be your mortification, when your error is pointed out to you."

The twins set off in high spirits, continually feeling in their pockets as they walked along, to be sure that their treasures were safe.

"Now, Ellen," said Rose, as they entered a long street containing many shops, "have you made up your

"I have been thinking of several things," Ellen re

plied, "I don't think I want anything myself. I have toys enough, and papa has furnished my new workbox so completely, that I have nothing left to wish for." "Should you not like something good to eat, or an ornament of some kind?"

"I don't know. Papa and mamma do not approve of ornaments for little girls; besides I believe they cost a great deal more than a shilling. And if we were to buy anything to eat, the money would be gone, and no good of it. I am sure papa would not be pleased then. Nurse, what do you think?"

"No no, Ellen, we must not ask anybody, or it will not be our own doing. So, nurse, don't say anything, please."

Just then they passed the bazaar, and stopped to look at the pretty things in the window.

"See! Ellen, see!" cried Rose, "the very shop we want. All these for one shilling each,' the ticket says. Let us go in and choose immediately."

"Stop, Rose, one moment. Let us look at them first, because I shall be ashamed to be very long in the shop. There is a packet of scented soap; that is very useful, but then mamma supplies us with soap."

"Only it is not scented, Ellen. But, there is something much prettier in this corner, a scent-box, with bottles of different kinds of perfumes, and a violet sachet, like what cousin Maria used to have."

"But what could little girls like us do with scents? Papa would quite laugh."

"Oh! they would be so nice to put on our handkerchiefs when we go to aunt Morris's Christmas party. Then we are to be invited to Mrs. Simpson's. Grace said so. Buy what you like, Ellen, I am for the scent-box. It will look so pretty standing on the rosewood loo-table in the drawing-room."

"My dears," said the nurse, "we had better go into the bazaar, and then you can have a nearer view of these nice things."

So they went in, and the young lady behind the counter took them to a table on which were ranged shilling articles, of the same kind as those they had seen in the window, and many more besides. There were packets of note paper and envelopes, boxes of sealing-wax | and mottoes; cards with a dozen pens, pencil-case and pen-holder; flower-vases and cigar-trays, small boxes with lock and key; pocket-books, shawl-pins and brooches; in short, all manner of useful and ornamental trifles. Rose soon fixed upon a scent-box, still prettier than that which she had seen in the window, the lid being ornamented by a picture of a beautiful Spanish lady, with a rose in her dark hair, and a fan in her hand. Ellen deliberated long between a flower-vase and a 'Papeterie," and then appearing to be struck by a sudden remembrance, she called her sister aside.

"Rose," said she, "don't you remember how sorry mamma was when she lost the brooch that fastened her shawl? She said that it was a present from an old friend; and that she would rather have lost many a more costly ornament."

'Yes, Ellen, I remember it; but what then?" "Well, amongst those brooches there is one exactly similar. I should like to buy it for her."

"Is there indeed? But that will not be anything for yourself, Ellen, and papa gave us these shillings to spend upon ourselves."

"Yes, but I am sure that he will not be displeased with me for buying something for mamma. I have never made her a present yet. And she will be so pleased with this."

"Very well, Ellen, do as you like. I have already fixed upon my purchase."

And with a somewhat important air, for she was spending money for the first time in her life, and felt quite dignified upon the occasion, Rose turned to the

young woman who was waiting their commands, and told her that she should take the scent-box with the Spanish lady on the lid. Ellen also having pointed out her choice, the little girls paid their money and departed, each holding a hand of the nurse, and chatting gaily all the way home. As soon as they arrived they ran eagerly into the dining-room, expecting to find their papa, and longing to exhibit their purchases. But, in this they were disappointed, for their mamma, who was sitting alone, told them that he had been suddenly called away, and would not return until evening.

"Shall we then show you, mamma?" asked Ellen, for once taking precedence of Rose, who generally assumed the lead, "May we show them to you, mamma? I have got something so pretty."

"No, dears, wait until to-morrow morning, It will be a little exercise of your patience, and you will not have a good opportunity before then."

Why not this evening, mamma?"

"Don't you know that I have invited all your little friends, and that you are to have a dance on the grass-plot after tea?”

"Oh! mamma, dear mamma, are we indeed?" exclaimed Rose. "I heard you say something about it once to papa, but I did not know you had really invited any one."

The little girls ran off, wild with joy, and first putting their purchases carefully away in their drawers, they gathered all the flowers that could be spared from the garden to decorate the arbour, where they always took tea on these occasions, when the weather would permit of their remaining out of doors.

By twos and threes, the juvenile party arrived; and merrily passed the hours till bed-time. Rose and Ellen produced their birthday presents, which were admired by all; and when the twins, after bidding adieu to the latest departure, retired into their own little bedroom, they agreed that they had never passed a happier day. The next morning they were awake with the first twitter of the birds, notwithstanding their unusual dissipation the evening before, for they were anxious to show their papa the things they had bought, and curious to know whether he would approve of them. As soon as they were dressed they went into the garden as usual, but they could not find their papa, so they stepped gently up stairs to his bedroom door.

"Who is there?" inquired he, in answer to their gentle tap.

"Rose and Ellen, papa."

"And what do Rose and Ellen want, before papa is up and dressed?"

"Shall you be long, papa? We are waiting for you in the garden."

"And we have such pretty things to show you." Mr. Campbell assured them that he should not be long, and they returned to the garden, and employed themselves in cutting off the dead roses for their mamma's scent-jar, and tying up the pinks and carnations. At length their papa appeared at the end of a walk; and they ran towards him.

"Don't show me your pretty things just now, my dears," he said. "Wait until we go in to breakfast, and then mamma can see them at the same time."

Yes, Rose," said Ellen, "that will do better. You know why, Rose?"

Rose nodded, and looked mysteriously; and the subject was dropped.

As soon as they were all seated round the breakfast table, the little girls produced their purchases, still concealed by the papers that enveloped them.

"Now, papa and mamma," commenced Rose, "as I am the eldest, you shall first guess what my parcel contains."

wife and I, you see are grey also. And we have lived so long, that the world itself looks old and grey to us now."

Then he told him the story of the black and white paint-and how the advice of an aged man prevented him from making his little estate ridiculous, when young. "I have thought of this circumstance," said he, SO often, that it has given me instruction. He who gave me the black paint proved to be an enemy; and he who urged me to use the white was a friend. The advice of neither was good.

"Those who love us too well are blind to our faults -and those who dislike us are not willing to see our virtues. One would make all white-the other all black. But neither of them are right. For we are of a mixed nature, good and evil, like the grey paint, made of opposite qualities.

vided they were successful. We fear this is a very vulgar notion of heroism, even though it be Mr. Carlyle's, The heroism of the unsuccessful, of the martyrs, the downtrodden, and the vanquished-calls forth none of his sympathy. It is reserved for Mahomet, Cromwell, Napoleon, and such like. We had almost said that he was a worshipper of physical force-for it matters not what the Cause for which these men fought-provided they prevailed, it is enough for him.

On turning to the "Latter-Day Pamphlet," on "The Present Time," recently published, we looked with interest for Mr. Carlyle's mature thoughts upon the workings of this age. We are disappointed. We find a inixture of Byron and Diogenes-so much strong writing against "cant," that we begin to think there may possibly be even a savour of cant about this. are again told to get themselves out of the way, and much more to the same effect, until we begin to feel that we have too much of this sort of thing. A rapid and vivid sketch is given of the career of the recent revolutionary furor through

"Shams

Notices of New Works.

Latter Day Pamphlets, No. 1. The Present Time:by THOMAS CARLYLE. Chapman and Hall. WHEN Mr. Carlyle speaks, there is never any want of listeners. When he writes, there is no lack of readers. He is a thoroughly original man, alike original in his thoughts, and original in his speech. In some respects he is a great poet, and pierces the marrow of a thought with the keen vision of a Seer. He sometimes lays open, in a few brief sentences, a whole realm of thought to the thinker. He is eminently suggestive. He incites the minds of others to action. He wields that great power over others, which the earnest man invariably exercises. It is clear that he writes exactly as he thinks, and as he feels. We believe his soul longs after good, after higher and purer life, and we are all ready, nay, most thinkers are all eager, to listen to his utterance.

But Mr. Carlyle is an incarnation of the uneasiness, the melancholy, the gloominess, which have seized hold of no small portion of the thinking men of this age. They feel that the times are sick and out-of-joint: that faith is dying out, and religious and social scepticism prevails. They recognise the necessity of a great religious thought to rescue us from doubt, and a social faith to save us from anarchy. Mr. Carlyle breaks the silence, and in his "Sartor Resartus" lifts up his voice against the shams, routine, and formalism, of our time. Amidst the noise of machinery, spinning-jennies, and steam-engines, he protests against materialism, and proclaims the merits of the spiritual life. He recognises in the universe, not a vast workshop of material production, but a temple, in which man, sanctified by suffering and toil, studies the infinite in the finite, and walks on towards his object, in faith and in hope, with eyes turned towards heaven.

Man, however, is not a contemplative being merely; his life is action; and if man would influence his age, he must set men at work in one way or another. It is when we consider the tendency and effect of Mr. Carlyle's writings in this way, that our feeling of disappointment begins. He makes us thoughtful, but at the same time gloomy, satirical, and discontented with what is; for, the world is all wrong, according to him. From Dan to Beersheba, all is barren of good. The age is one of shams, formalism, and cant. A vein of cynicism runs through even his most beautiful thoughts. He refuses to recognise any noble purpose, any true work, in the life of the present age. Ilis admiration is directed to the stern bigots of former times, who are heroes in his eyes, pro

France; this is depicted in a way thoroughly artistic, for Mr. Carlyle, in his French Revolution," has already given proof of his graphic powers in historical painting. The following is his description of the revolutionary year 1848:

"Not since the irruption of the Northern Barbarians has there been the like. Everywhere immeasurable Democracy rose monstrous, loud, blatant, inarticulate as the voice of Chaos. Everywhere the Official holy-of-holies was scandalously laid bare to dogs and the profane :Enter, all the world, see what kind of Official holy it is. Kings everywhere, and reigning persons, stared in sudden horror, the voice of the whole world bellowing in their ear, Begone, ye imbecile hypocrites, histrios not heroes! Off with you, off!'-and, what was peculiar and notable in this year for the first time, the Kings all made haste to go, as if exclaiming, We are poor histrios, we sure enough ;-did you want heroes? Don't kill us, we couldn't help it!' Not one of them turned round, and stood upon his Kingship, as upon a right he could afford to die for, or to risk his skin upon; by no manner of

means.

That, I say, is the alarming peculiarity at present. Democracy, on this new occasion, finds all Kings conscious that they are but Playactors. The miserable mortals, enacting their High Life Below Stairs, with faith only that the Universe may perhaps be all a phantasm and hypocrisis,-the truculent Constable of the Destinies suddenly enters: Scandalous Phantasms, what do you here? Are solemnly constituted Impostors' the proper Kings of men? Did you think the Life of Man was a grimacing dance of apes? To be led always by the squeak of your paltry fiddle? Ye miserable, this Universe is not an upholstery Puppet-play, but a terrible God-Fact; and you, I think-had not you better be gone? They fled precipitately, some of them with what we may call an exquisite ignominy,-in terror of the treadmill, or worse.'

So much for Kingship, and now behold Democracy on the stage. Against this democracy in all its forms, Mr. Carlyle deals the full force of his sarcasm. In France, it was for a brief time presided over by M. Lamartine, who is thus described :

"A most eloquent fair-spoken literary gentleman, whom thoughtless persons took for a prophet, priest, and heaven-sent evangelist, and whom a wise Yankee friend of mine discerned to be properly the first stump-orator in the world, standing, too, on the highest stump,--for the time.' A sorrowful spectacle to men of reflection, during the time he lasted, that poor M. de Lamartine; with nothing in him but melodious wind and soft sowder, which he and others took for something divine and not diabolic!"

And so on with all the other manifestations of demo