'Rheumatism; palpitation; cold sweat; pain in the chest,' etc., etc., said Prent.

Let me try to remove them,' said Physic;' its 's eating that does it.' 'No,' said Prent; 'I've experimented on that.' 'Drinking, perhaps?' suggested Physic.

'I thought it might be,' said Prent,' and left off beer and drank nothing but brandy-and-water. No use; tried it for a week. Took

to beer again, and dropped alcoholics. It would n't do. No, no; the fact is, it's constitutional. I wish it was n't.

judge in less than a week.'

I'd have it before the

Do you think you have a standing complaint?' asked Physic.
No; I rather think it 's seated,' said Prent.

'Try me one month,' said Physic, and I'll cure you.'

'I've no objection to trying any thing,' said Prent.

'Well, one blue pill every night for a week; seidlitz-powder in the morning; diet, crackers and cold water.'

Stop! stop! doctor; I could n't live so.'

'Only for a month,' said Physic.'

'Say one potatoe and half a glass of wine at dinner.'

"You'd better not,' said Physic; but you may alternate days, commencing to-morrow.'

'I'd rather commence every day,' said Prent.

'Wo' n't do!' said Physic.

It is strange, but Prent stood it like a man' for a month. It was much stranger, to him, that at the end of that time his arms, hands, legs, feet, all seemed to be sound. He breathed more freely, and did n't wake up o' nights and hear strange sounds, and his fingers were less inclined to travel 'round every article he endeavored to handle. What was the matter with me?' asked Prent of the doctor. 'You injured the coat of your stomach,' said Physic;

'And it could n't make a shift to use it 's shirt-sleeves?' muttered Prent. 'You're not well yet, said Physic.

'But the month's up,' said Prent.

So it is,' said Physic; but live moderately, or you'll bring it on again; and by-and-by there will be no curing you. Air, exercise, and temperance, or hypochondria; those are the tickets.'

And the last shan't receive my sufferage,' said Prent.

That night he drank a glass or two on the strength of.it; then one

or two more, temperately.

'I'm sorry,' said Prent, that I'll have to marry'

'You can break it,' said Prattle.

Supposing she sues for breach,' said Prent.

hiccup.

'Supposing she does?' said Prattle; better try the breeches before marriage than after. She can't prove it.'

'Well, I'll

'Yes

'I'll see you (hiccup) to-morrow.'

To-morrow Mr. Prent felt the symptoms again.

guess I'll take a wife,' said Prent.

'I

But this, and all he could say, did not turn Prent one hair's-breadth. He married. What was better, he got well: sacrificed his suppers, and was n't at all sorry. Instead of dying, he lived. Lived as a man, having something to live for a fire-side and a home.

D.

PASSAGES FROM THE RUSSIAN OF KARAMSIN.

TRANSLATED BY A. 0. BECKER.

MY DAY.

THOUGHTLESS man wastes in oblivion those glorious morning hours, when fleecy and gorgeous clouds bear forth in their midst the radiant bridegroom of nature, to be received with a chorus of welcome from a grateful earth and its rejoicing inhabitants! I prostrate myself in mute reverence!

Is it wonderful, that the untutored children of nature, the simpleminded nations of antiquity, paid adoration to this magnificent luminary as it poured forth its light and life on all things, itself the mantle and veil of the invisible godhead?

What freshness in the air! the fragrance from the dewy earth rising in grateful incense toward Heaven.

The flocks scatter themselves abroad upon the hills, the whetted scythes glisten on the green fields, the singing lark soars above the laboring peasant, and the gentle Lavinia prepares the morning repast for her Palemon.

I wander among the variegated meadows. Here glows the plant of Asia, there ripens the rich harvest of rye, and beyond waves the

barley.

Painter thy pencil can never portray the shades of this beautiful picture!

I return to my quiet dwelling. A glass of rich yellow cream awaits me; how delicious its flavor after a morning ramble! I search among my books; find 'Thomson's Seasons.' I take them with me to the silent grove. I place the book by the side of a raspberry tree and read. I gaze upon the lofty trees, on the thick foliage of the branches, which in the brilliant sunlight is thrown into so fine relief. I listen to the rustling of the wind among the leaves so different from that in towns, and bury myself in thought; and then again resume my book.

Time flies unperceived, but my watch shows me that it is mid-day. I leave the grove, the sun pours down its rays upon me, the wind breathes not, the silvery leaves of the aspen grove are motionless, the light feather rests unstirred upon the young grass, the corn-flowers droop their heads, and the many-colored butterfly reposes on them.

All is silent save the water-nymph, who murmurs amid the long reeds; the bee even has retired with her sweet burthen to the hive; the peasant reposes upon the fragrant grass, which he has mown; the bubbling brook entices me to its side. I approach; its clear waters attract me, and yielding to the temptation, I plunge into the flowing crystal. Drooping willows interlace themselves above me, forming a verdant bower. Even the rays of the mid-day sun hardly penetrate it, to sparkle upon the shaded water. I am refreshed in body and mind. Ah! he

But this, and all he could say, did not turn Prent one hair's-breadth. He married. What was better, he got well: sacrificed his suppers, and was n't at all sorry. Instead of dying, he lived. Lived as a man,

having something to live for a fire-side and a home.

D.

PASSAGES FROM THE RUSSIAN OF KARAMSIN.

TRANSLATED BY A. 0. BECKER.

MY DAY.

THOUGHTLESS man wastes in oblivion those glorious morning hours, when fleecy and gorgeous clouds bear forth in their midst the radiant bridegroom of nature, to be received with a chorus of welcome from a grateful earth and its rejoicing inhabitants! I prostrate myself in mute reverence!

Is it wonderful, that the untutored children of nature, the simpleminded nations of antiquity, paid adoration to this magnificent luminary as it poured forth its light and life on all things, itself the mantle and veil of the invisible godhead ?

What freshness in the air! the fragrance from the dewy earth rising in grateful incense toward Heaven.

The flocks scatter themselves abroad upon the hills, the whetted scythes glisten on the green fields, the singing lark soars above the laboring peasant, and the gentle Lavinia prepares the morning repast for her Palemon.

I wander among the variegated meadows. Asia, there ripens the rich harvest of rye, barley.

Here glows the plant of and beyond waves the

Painter thy pencil can never portray the shades of this beautiful picture!

I return to my quiet dwelling. A glass of rich yellow cream awaits me; how delicious its flavor after a morning ramble! I search among my books; find 'Thomson's Seasons.' I take them with me to the silent grove. I place the book by the side of a raspberry tree and read. I gaze upon the lofty trees, on the thick foliage of the branches, which in the brilliant sunlight is thrown into so fine relief. I listen to the rustling of the wind among the leaves so different from that in towns, and bury myself in thought; and then again resume my book.

Time flies unperceived, but my watch shows me that it is mid-day. I leave the grove, the sun pours down its rays upon me, the wind breathes not, the silvery leaves of the aspen grove are motionless, the light feather rests unstirred upon the young grass, the corn-flowers droop their heads, and the many-colored butterfly reposes on them.

All is silent save the water-nymph, who murmurs amid the long reeds; the bee even has retired with her sweet burthen to the hive; the peasant reposes upon the fragrant grass, which he has mown; the bubbling brook entices me to its side. I approach; its clear waters attract me, and yielding to the temptation, I plunge into the flowing crystal. Drooping willows interlace themselves above me, forming a verdant bower. Even the rays of the mid-day sun hardly penetrate it, to sparkle upon the shaded water. I am refreshed in body and mind. Ah! he