de that a suitable compensation can be given, and prompt and
cheerful payment be made, without the dread of transgressing the rules
of economy.

It is better to teach our daughters to do without expensive ornaments or
fashionable elegances; better even to deny ourselves the pleasure of
large donations or direct subscriptions to public charities, rather than
to curtail the small stipend of her whose "candle goeth not out by
night," and who labors with her needle for herself and the helpless dear
ones dependent on her exertions.

OLD FATHER MORRIS.

A SKETCH FROM NATURE.

Of all the marvels that astonished my childhood, there is none I
remember to this day with so much interest as the old man whose name
forms my caption. When I knew him, he was an aged clergyman, settled
over an obscure village in New England. He had enjoyed the advantages of
a liberal education, had a strong, original power of thought, an
omnipotent imagination, and much general information; but so early and
so deeply had the habits and associations of the plough, the farm, and
country life wrought themselves into his mind, that his after
acquirements could only mingle with them, forming an unexampled amalgam
like unto nothing but itself.

He was an ingrain New Englander, and whatever might have been the source
of his information, it came out in Yankee form, with the strong
provinciality of Yankee dialect.

It is in vain to attempt to give a full picture of such a genuine
_unique_; but some slight and imperfect dashes may help the imagination
to a faint idea of what none can fully conceive but those who have seen
and heard old Father Morris.

Suppose yourself one of half a dozen children, and you hear the cry,
"Father Morris is coming!" You run to the window or door, and you see a
tall, bulky old man, with a pair of saddle bags on one arm, hitching his
old horse with a fumbling carefulness, and then deliberately stumping
towards the house. You notice his tranquil, florid, full-moon face,
enlightened by a pair of great round blue eyes, that roll with dreamy
inattentiveness on all the objects around; and as he takes off his hat,
you see the white curling wig that sets off his round head. He comes
towards you, and as you stand staring, with all the children around, he
deliberately puts his great hand on your head, and, with deep, rumbling
voice, inquires,--

"How d'ye do, my darter? is your daddy at home?" "My darter" usually
makes off as