d one of the ladies say, 'I have
been so disappointed in my journey.' I dropped my knife and fork, and
exclaimed, 'Disappointed, madam! does not the fall look as high as you
expected?' 'Oh, child,' she replied, laughing, 'I was not speaking of
the fall; but I find it is quite too early in the season to travel in
the country. I have not seen a roast pig or a broiled chicken since I
left the city.' What do you think of that, papa?"

"Why I think, my dear, she is a vulgar woman, who travels because others
do; and is naturally disappointed in not meeting with the only
circumstances that could give her pleasure."

"There's Mrs. Hilton, papa, who, I am sure, is not vulgar--at least she
is as rich as Cr[oe]sus--and I heard her say to a gentleman, that if she
could have remained at the Springs, and then could have gone home and
_said_ she had been to the Falls, she should have been glad; for she was
sure no one came here but for the name of it."

"Mrs. Hilton is of the class of the vulgar rich, among whom vulgarity is
quite as obvious, and much more disgusting, than with the vulgar poor.
But come, dear Ned; the faults and follies of others is a theme scarcely
worthy of this place; and just at the moment that you are enjoying this
festival of nature, you must take care you do not commit the pharisaic
fault, and thank God that you are not as these people, without reflecting
that Providence has arranged the circumstances which have made the
difference."

"But, papa," said Julia, "it would not be wrong, would it, for Edward
to feel that there is a difference?"

"Perhaps not, provided the feeling is properly tempered with humility
and gratitude; but it is far safer to be in the habit of comparing
yourselves with your superiors, than your inferiors."

"It may be safer, papa," said Julia, "but"--

"But what, my love?"

"It is not half so natural."

"Nor so pleasant," interposed Edward.

"Well, my children, I hope you will make it habitual, and then it will
be natural. For the present I am satisfied that you speak frankly your
opinions and feelings, without disguise or affectation."

Thus these vigilant parents extracted some moral good from every object
and every scene; and at that early age, when most children are thoughtless
of the future, theirs were constantly directed to virtue, which they
were taught is immortal in its nature, is man's support and solace
through all the vicissitudes of life, and his crown of glory w