hough all of its forms are not pleasant to
me."

"And why do you mingle in it then, if its sphere is uncongenial?"

"I cannot say, Mr. Clarence, that it is altogether uncongenial.
Wherever we go, into society, we come in contact with much that is
good. Beneath the false glitter, often assumed and worn without the
heart's being in it, but from a weak spirit of conformity, lies much
that is sound in principle, and healthy in moral life. In mingling,
then, in society, we aid to develope and strengthen these good
principles in others. We encourage, often, the weak and wavering,
and bring back such as are beginning to wander from the simple
dignity and truth of nature."

"But is there not danger of our becoming dazzled by the false
glitter?"

"There may be. But we need not fear this, if we settle in our minds
a right principle of action, and bind ourselves firmly to that
principle."

A pause followed this last remark, and then the subject of
conversation was again changed to one of a more general nature.

An evening or two after, Henry Clarence called in to see Melvina
Fenton. Melvina was what may be called a showy girl. Her
countenance, which was really beautiful, when animated, attracted
every eye. She had a constant flow of spirits, had dipped into many
books, and could make a little knowledge in these matters go a great
way. Clarence could not conceal from himself that he admired
Melvina, and, although his good sense and discrimination opposed
this admiration, he could rarely spend an evening with Miss Fenton,
without a strong prepossession in her favor. Still, with her, as
with every one, he maintained a consistency of character that
annoyed her. He could not be brought to flatter her in any way; and
for this she thought him cold, and often felt under restraint in his
society. One thing in her which he condemned, was her love of dress.
Often he would express a wonder to himself, how a young woman of her
good sense and information could be guilty of such a glaring
departure from true taste.

On this evening she received him in her very best manner. And she
was skilful at acting; so skilful, as even to deceive the keen eye
of Henry Clarence. Fully resolved on making a conquest, she studied
his character, and tried to adapt herself to it.

"I have your favorite here," she remarked, during the evening,
lifting a copy of Wordsworth from the centre table.

"Ah, indeed! so you have. Do you ever look into him, Miss