The following paragraph, from the Paris correspondent of a Boston paper, unmasks one of these pseudo-philanthropists completely. Will the philanthropy of his readers rise higher than that of the author?

"Not many months since, Sue used to visit, almost daily, one of the most fashionable ladies in Paris-Madame de — and hold forth in her richly furnished boudoir on the condition of the poor.

"Do you ever relieve their distress?' asked Madame de at the close of one of these har

angues.

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To a trifling extent," answered Sue; 'but though my gifts are small, they are always cheerfully bestowed. I give one-fourth of my income in alms !'

"That afternoon, as he left the Cafe de Paris, where he had been eating a costly dinner, an apparently old woman, clad in rags, prayed for charity.

66 6

Go away,' was the stern reply.

"But I am starving; give me a single copper to purchase bread with !'

"I will give you in charge of a police officer, if you thus annoy me.'

6

"You will!' said the beggar, and yet, Monsieur Eugene Sue, you are the man who writes about the misery of the poor; you are the working-man's champion; you are —

"Who are you?' exclaimed Sue.

"Madame de -,' was the reply, and the disguised lady stepped into her carriage, which was in waiting, leaving the novelist to his reflections."

FENELON'S OPINION.

UNINSTRUCTED girls are always possessed of an erratic imagination. For want of solid nourishment, all the ardour of their curiosity is directed towards vain and dangerous objects. Those who are not without talent, often devote themselves entirely to the perusal of books which tend to cherish vanity; they have a passionate fondness for novels, plays, narratives of romantic adventures, in which licentious love occupies a prominent place ;-in fine, by habituating themselves to the high-flown language of the heroes of romance, their minds are filled with visionary notions. In this way they render themselves unfit for society; for all those fine sentiments, those adventures, which the authors of romance have invented to gratify the imagination, have no connexion with the true motives that excite to action, and control the interests of society, or with the disappointments invariably attendant upon human affairs. A poor girl, full of the tender and the marvellous, which have charmed her in the perusal of such works, is astonished not to find in the world real characters resembling these heroes. She would wish to live like those imaginary princesses, who, in the fictions of romance, are always charming, always adored, always placed beyond the reach of neces

sary duties. What must be her disgust when compelled to descend from the flights of fancy to the humble details of domestic life?

GOLDSMITH'S OPINION.

THE testimony of Goldsmith is all the more valuable, not only because he had written one of the least exceptionable novels in our language, but also because his knowledge was not generally drawn from books, but from observation upon nature and society:

"Above all things," says he, in a letter to his brother, never let your son touch a novel or a romance. These paint beauty in colours more charming than nature, and describe happiness that man never tastes. How delusive, how destructive are those pictures of consummate bliss! They teach the young mind to sigh after beauty and happiness which never existed; to despise the little good that fortune has mixed in our cup, by expecting more than she ever gave; and in general-take the word of a man who has studied human nature more by experience than precept-take my word for it,-I say, that such books teach us very little of the world."

DANCING.

MRS. JUDSON.

the

"MONDAY evening," writes Mrs. Judson, daughters of sent to invite me and my sisters to spend the evening with them, and make a family visit. I hesitated a little; but considering that it was to be a family party merely, I thought I could go without breaking my resolutions. Accordingly I went, and found that two or three other families of young ladies had been invited. Dancing was soon introduced-my religious plans were forgotten-I joined with the rest-was one of the gayest of the gay-and thought no more of the new life I had begun. On my return home, I found an invitation from Mrs. in waiting, and accepted it at once. My conscience let me pass quietly through the amusements of that evening also; but when I retired to my chamber, on my return, it accused me of breaking my most solemn resolution. I thought I should never dare to make others, for I clearly saw that I was unable to keep them." [She afterward learned that, "Christ strengthening her, she could do all things."-COMPILER.]

THEATRES.

A CONCLUSIVE ARGUMENT.

DR. RUSH, of America, told a friend, that he was once in conversation with a lady, a professor of religion, who was speaking of the pleasure she anticipated at the theatre in the evening. "What,

madam,' said he, "do you go to the theatre?" "Yes," was the reply; "and don't you go, doctor?" "No, madam," said he, "I never go to such place." "Why, sir, do you not go? Do you think it sinful?" said she. He replied, "I never will publish to the world that I think Jesus Christ is a bad master, and religion an unsatisfying portionwhich I should do, if I went on the devil's ground in quest of happiness." This argument was short, but conclusive. The lady determined not to go.

THE BURNING OF RICHMOND THEATRE, 1811. THE house was fuller than on any other night of the season. The play was over, and the first act of the pantomime had passed. The second and last had begun. All was yet gayety, all so far had been pleasure, curiosity was yet alive, and further gratification anticipated-the orchestra sent forth its sounds of harmony and joy-when the audience perceived some confusion on the stage, and presently a shower of sparks falling from above. Some were