now stretched to the utmost to furnish a support; while, from the resources of her own reading, she drew that which laid the foundation for early mental culture in her children.

Augusta had been here but a few weeks, before her footsteps were traced by her only brother, who had lately discovered her situation, and urged her to forsake her unworthy husband and find refuge with him.

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Augusta, my sister, I have found you," he exclaimed, as he suddenly entered one day, while she was busied with the work of her family.

"Henry, my dear brother!" There was a momentary illumination of countenance accompanying these words, which soon faded into a mournful quietness, as she cast her eyes around on the scanty accommodations and mean apartment.

"I see how it is, Augusta-step by step, you are sinking-dragged down by a vain sense of duty to one no longer worthy. I cannot bear it any longer, I have come to take you away.

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Augusta turned from him, and looked abstractedly out of the window. Her features settled in thought. Their expression gradually deepened from their usual tone of mild, resigned sorrow, to one of keen anguish. Henry," said she, turning toward him, “never was mortal woman so blessed in another, as I once was in him. How can I forget it? Who knew him in those days that did not admire and love him? They tempted and ensnared him; and even I urged him into the path of danger. He fell, and there was none to help. I urged reformation, and he again and again promised, resolved, and began. But again they

tempted him, even his very best friends; yes, and that too, when they knew his danger. They led him on as far as it was safe for them to go, and when the sweep of his more excitable temperament took him past the point of safety and decency, they stood by and coolly wondered and lamented. How often was he led on by such heartless friends to humiliating falls, and then driven to desperation by the cold look, averted faces, and cruel sneers of those whose medium temperament and cooler blood saved them from the snares which they saw were enslaving him. What if I had forsaken him then? What account should I have rendered to God? Every time a friend has been alienated by his comrades, it has seemed to seal him with another seal. I am his wife-and mine will be the last. Henry, when I leave him, I know, his eternal ruin is sealed. I cannot do it now; a little longer; a little longer; the hour I see must come. I know my duty to my children forbids me to keep them here; take them, they are my last earthly comforts, Henry; but you must take them away. It may be-O God—perhaps it must be, that I shall soon follow; but not till I have tried once more. What is this present life, to one who has suffered as I have? Nothing. But eternity! Oh Henry!-eternity-how can I abandon him to everlasting despair! Under the breaking of my heart I have borne up. I have borne up under all that can try a woman-but this thought"-She stopped, and seemed struggling with herself; but at last, borne down by a tide of agony, she leaned her head on her hands; the tears streamed through her fingers, and her whole frame shook with convulsive sobs.

Her brother wept with her; nor dared he again to

touch the point so solemnly guarded. The next day Augusta parted from her children, hoping something from feelings that, possibly, might be stirred by their absence, in the bosom of their father.

It was about a week after this, that Augusta one evening presented herself at the door of a rich Mr. L, whose princely mansion was one of the ornaments of the city of A. It was not till she reached the sumptuous drawing-room, that she recognised in Mr. L—, one whom she and her husband had frequently met in the gay circles of their early life. Altered as she was, Mr. L- did not recognise her, but compassionately handed her a chair, and requested her to wait the return of his lady, who was out; and then turning, he resumed his conversation with another gentleman.

"Now Dallas," said he, "you are altogether excessive and intemperate in this matter. Society is not to be reformed by every man directing his efforts toward his neighbor, but by every man taking care of himself. It is you and I, my dear sir, who must begin with ourselves, and every other man must do the same; and then society will be effectually reformed. Now this modern way, by which every man considers it his duty to attend to the spiritual matters of his next-door neighbor, is taking the business at the wrong end altogether. It makes a vast deal of appearance, but it does very little good."

"But suppose your neighbor feels no disposition to attend to his own improvement--what then?"

"Why then, it is his own concern, and not mine. What my Maker requires is, that I do my duty, and not fret about my neighbor's."

What

“But, my friend, that is the very question. is the duty your Maker requires? Does it not include some regard to your neighbor, some care and thought for his interest and improvement?"

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“Well, well, I do that by setting a good example. I do not mean by example, what you do—that is, that I am to stop drinking wine because it may lead him to drink brandy, any more than that I must stop eating, because he may eat too much and become a dyspeptic; but that I am to use my wine, and every thing else, temperately and decently, and thus set him a good example."

The conversation was here interrupted by the return of Mrs. L-. It recalled, in all its freshness, to the mind of Augusta, the days when both she and her husband had thus spoken and thought.

Ah, how did these sentiments appear to her now, lonely, helpless, forlorn; the wife of a ruined husband; the mother of more than orphan children. How different from what they seemed, when, secure in ease, in wealth, in gratified affections, she thoughtlessly echoed the common phraseology, "why must people concern themselves so much in their neighbor's affairs? Let every man mind his own business."

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Augusta received in silence from Mrs. L-the fine sewing for which she came, and left the room. Ellen," said Mr. L- to his wife, "that poor woman must be in trouble of some kind or other. You must go some time, and see if any thing can be done for her."

"How singular!" said Mrs. L-, "she reminds me all the time of Augusta Howard. You remember her, my dear?”

"Yes, poor thing! and her husband too. That was a shocking affair of Edward Howard's. I hear that he became an intemperate, worthless fellow. Who could have thought it!"

"I

You

"But you recollect, my dear," said Mrs. Lpredicted it six months before it was talked of. remember at the wine party which you gave after Mary's wedding, he was so excited that he was hardly decent. I mentioned then that he was getting into dangerous ways. But he was such an excitable creature, that two or three glasses would put him quite beside himself. And there is George Eldon who takes off his ten and twelve glasses, and no one suspects it." "Well, it was a great pity," replied Mr. L "Howard was worth a dozen George Eldons."

"Do you suppose," said Dallas, who had listened thus far in silence, "that if he had moved in a circle where it was the universal custom to banish all stimulating drinks, he would thus have fallen?"

"I cannot say," said Mr. L—, "perhaps not." Mr. Dallas was a gentleman of fortune and leisure, and of an ardent and enthusiastic temperament. Whatever engaged him, absorbed his whole soul; and of late years, his mind had become deeply engaged in schemes of philanthropy for the improvement of his fellow men. He had, in his benevolent ministrations, often passed the dwelling of Edward, and was deeply interested in the pale and patient wife and mother. He made acquaintance with her through the aid of her children, and, in one way and another, learned particulars of their history, that awakened the deepest interest and concern. None but a mind as sanguine as his, would have dreamed of attempting to remedy