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Christian, to advise with her servant on the choice of a temporary home, and to warn her of the evils that may result from even a short sojourn with an unprincipled family. there be a well-conducted "Servants' Home' within reach, she may be recommended to it with a perfect confidence that her morals will be properly guarded, and her little property preserved from injury. If this plan be not practicable, there is sure to be some poor but honest person to whose care the homeless girl can be confided till she finds another place.

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True, it may be her own fault that she is homeless she may have repaid the kindness of a judicious mistress with negligence, sloth, or impertinence; she may, in short, be undeserving of kind consideration: but does she, on that account, need it the less? no! she is the more likely to be led astray by evil example, or bad advice. It is the more necessary, in such a case, that the lady should exercise towards her that "charity" which "suffereth long, and is kind;" which "beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things."

We confess it is difficult thus to regulate our conduct by the simple "rule of right," without any reference to the deservings of her we wish to serve; but it is not so painful to the moral sense as it would be to seek amid the haunts of vice for one we wish to reclaim, while conscience suggests that we might probably have prevented the evil we are now striving to remedy.

There is one fearful error into which ladies sometimes fall, to which it is a very painful but an imperative duty to refer: we allude to the habit that some have of dismissing a servant without notice or without character. To discharge a servant without notice, except under very peculiar circumstances, is an act of great injustice, as a "month's wages" will not make up for a month's board and lodging; but when to this is added the irreparable injury of refusing a character, what can be expected to result but poverty, wretchedness, and crime?

An incident which came under the personal observation of the writer, will serve vividly to impress this part of our subject on the mind and heart of every reader of this paper.

A lady, noted for her hastiness of temper, dismissed two servants suddenly, with the

threat that she would not give them characters. They applied to a respectable registry office, stating how they were circumstanced, and requesting that the matron would strive to induce some one to give them a trial. The wife of a professional man, to whom these facts were stated, called upon the lady to ask the character of one of these discarded servants: this was refused with so much bitterness, that the applicant was convinced that the lady was in the wrong. She engaged the young woman without character, and she turned out a faithful and efficient servant.

The other girl, who was young, beautiful, and thoughtless, was not able to obtain a place, as her mistress refused all applications for a character. Her money was soon spent, her clothes followed, and at last, on again applying without success to the matron, she exclaimed, "I will starve no longer to please a tyrant !" In vain the matron expostulated with her she turned hastily away, and the next week, she was seen, elegantly dressed, walking the streets of

Should the lady who thus drove to desperation a young and ill-trained female, who had been a member of the family for upwards of a year, meet her during some evening ramble, surely conscience would whisper, "This is my work!" Or should she, as a member of a Penitentiary Committee, see this now degraded being brought in by some "sister of charity," may we not hope that she would exclaim, in bitterness of soul, "How much more Christian-like it would have been in me to prevent this grievous sin, than it is to reclaim the sinner!"

But they may never meet on earth. The unrelenting mistress may never hear the curses which her victim pours upon her memory she may never have an opportunity of wiping the tear of penitence from her haggard cheek. BUT THEY MUST, THEY WILL MEET AT THE BAR OF GOD, AND

THEN WHAT WILL BE THE EMOTIONS OF

EACH We dare not further pursue the soleinn subject.

Let us remember, that though few may have an opportunity of reclaiming the guilty, all may assist in preserving the innocent. M. B. -Female's Friend.

THE ROMAN CONSUL. ALTHOUGH Augustus considered a military force as the firmest foundation, he wisely rejected it as a very odious instrument of government. It was more agreeable to his temper, as well as to his policy, to reign

under the venerable names of ancient magistracy, and artfully to collect, in his own person, all the scattered rays of civil jurisdiction. With this view he permitted the Senate to confer upon him, for his life, the powers of the Consular and Tribunitian offices,

which were, in the same manner, continued to all his successors.

The Consuls had succeeded to the Kings of Rome, and represented the dignity of the

state.

They superintended the ceremonies of religion, levied and commanded the legions, gave audience to foreign Ambassadors, and presided in the assemblies both of the Senate and people. The general control of the

finances was entrusted to their care; and though they seldom had leisure to administer justice in person, they were considered as the supreme guardians of law, equity, and the public peace.

Such was their ordinary jurisdiction; but whenever the Senate empowered the first Magistrate to consult the safety of the commonwealth, he was raised by that decree above the laws, and exercised, in the defence of liberty, a temporary despotism.

The character of the Tribunes was, in every respect, different from that of the Consuls. The appearance of the former was modest and humble; but their persons were sacred and inviolable. Their force was suited rather

for opposition than for action. They were instituted to defend the oppressed, to pardon offences, to arraign the enemies of the people, and, when they judged it necessary, to stop, by a single word, the whole machine of government.

As long as the republic subsisted, the dangerous influence which either the Consul or the Tribune might derive from his respective jurisdiction, was diminished by several important restrictions. Their authority expired with the year in which they were elected; the former office was divided between two, the latter among ten persons; and as, both in their private and public interest, they were averse to each other, their mutual conflicts contributed, for the most part, to strengthen, rather than to destroy, the balance of the constitution.

But when the Consular and Tribunitian powers were united, when they were vested for life in a single person, when the General of the army was, at the same time, the Minister of the Senate, and the representative of the Roman people, it was impossible to

resist the exercise, nor was it easy to define the limits, of his imperial prerogative.

Augustus exercised nine annual Consulships without interruption. He then most artfully refused that magistracy, as well as the Dictatorship, absented himself from Rome, and waited till the fatal effects of tumult and faction forced the Senate to invest him with a perpetual Consulship. Augustus, as well as his successors, affected, however, to conceal so invidious a title.

As long as the Roman Consuls were the first Magistrates of a free state, they derived their right to power from the choice of the people. As long as the Emperors condescended to disguise the servitude which they imposed, the Consuls were still elected by the real or apparent suffrage of the Senate.

From the reign of Diocletian, even these vestiges of liberty were abolished, and the successful candidates who were invested with the annual honours of the Consulship, affected to deplore the humiliating condition of their predecessors, boasting their own superior fortune in being created Consuls by the sole authority of the Emperor.

Their names and portraits, engraved on gilt tablets of ivory, were dispersed over the empire as presents to the provinces, the Magistrates, the Senate, and the people. On the morning of the 1st of January, the Consuls assumed the ensigns of their dignity;

their solemn inauguration being performed at the place of the imperial residence. Their dress was a robe of purple, embroidered in silk and gold, and sometimes ornamented with costly gems.

On this occasion they were attended by the most eminent officers of the state and army, in the habit of Senators; and the useless fasces, armed with the once-formidable axes, were borne before them by the Lictors. The procession moved from the palace to the forum, or principal square of the city, where the Consuls ascended their tribunal, and seated themselves in the chairs of state, which were framed after the fashion of ancient times.

They immediately exercised an act of jurisdiction, by emancipating a slave, who was brought before them for that purpose.

As soon as the Consuls had discharged these customary duties, they were at liberty to retire into the shade of private life, and to enjoy, during the remainder of the year, the undisturbed contemplation of their own greatness. They no longer presided in the national councils; they no longer executed the revolutions of peace or war. Their abilities were of little moment; and their names served only as the legal date of the year in which they had filled the chair of Marius and Cicero.-Gibbon.

SPIDERS.

THE Rev. Dr. John North found out a means of entertainment, which is thus described in his Memoirs. It consisted in keeping great house-spiders in wide-mouthed glasses. When he had them safe in hold, he supplied them with crumbs of bread, which they ate rather than starve; but their regale was flies, which he sometimes caught and put to them. When their imprisonment appeared inevitable, they fell to their trade of making webs, and made large expansions, and more private recesses. It pleased him to observe the animals manage their interest in the great work of taking their prey if it was a small fly given them, no more ceremony, but take and eat him; but if a great monster flesh-fly, then to work, twenty courses round, and perhaps not come near him, for he has claws sharp as cats, and after divers starts to and fro, a web was, with a hind leg, dexterously clapped over two or three of his legs. After all his claws were in this manner secured, then at a running pull a broad web was brought over him, which bound him hand and foot, and by being fixed to the spider's tail, the fly was carried off to one of his inmost recesses, there to be feasted upon at leisure. Spiders, like other creatures of prey, eat one another, and for their continual design of eating, are paid by a continual dread of being eaten, The danger, as well as fear, is common to all. There is no regard to relation or families; and for that reason, like pikes in a pond, none ever takes a prey but he turns suddenly round, lest another should take him. When the young are hatched, and can run about, they lie still, waiting for advantages over the rest, and care not rashly to expose themselves. If they are disturbed, and some made to run, the whole nation is alarmed, and many a life falls in the disorder before the wars cease; and then each that survives makes merry with his booty. Thus their numbers are reduced to a very few, who find means of retreating to castles of their own making. They cast their skins at certain periods; and their manner of doing it is remarkable. They hang themselves to the

ceiling of their web, with their body downwards, and holding themselves fast by all their legs brought together, remain striving and pulling each leg till it comes out of the hose, and their body is freed from its case; and then they turn and run away, leaving their old coat in their place, as we often see them hanging in cobwebs. The signal to them of this change coming on is a dry. parting of the skin upon their backs; whereupon they fall to work as was described. The Doctor used to divert us with relating the course of life which his poor prisoners led.Burns's "Magazine for the Young."

THE TWO FOXES.

He (the narrator) was one day in the fields near a stream where several geese were swimming. Presently, he observed one disappear under the water, with a sudden jerk. While he looked for her to rise again, he saw a fox emerge from the water, and trot off to the woods with the unfortunate goose in his mouth. He chanced to go in a direction where it was easy for the man to watch his movements. He carried his burden to a recess under an overhanging rock. Here he scratched away a mass of dry leaves, scooped a hole, hid his treasure within, and covered it very carefully. Then off he went to the stream again, entered some distance behind the flock of geese, and floated noiselessly along, with merely the tip of his nose visible above the surface. But this time he was not so fortunate in his manœuvres. The geese, by some accident, took the alarm, and flew away with loud cackling. The fox, finding himself defeated, walked off in a direction opposite to the place where his victim was buried. The man uncovered the hole, put the goose in his basket, replaced the leaves carefully, and stood patiently at a distance, to watch farther proceedings. The sly thief was soon seen returning with another fox, that he had invited to dine with him. They trotted along right merrily, swinging their tails, snuffing the air, and smacking their

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lips, in anticipation of a rich repast. When they arrived under the rock, Reynard eagerly scratched away the leaves; but lo, his dinner had disappeared! He looked at his companion, and plainly saw by his countenance, that he more than misdoubted whether any He goose was ever there, as pretended. evidently considered his friend's hospitality a sham, and himself insulted. His contemptuous expression was more than the mortified fox could bear. Though conscious of generous intentions, he felt that all assurances to that effect would be regarded as lies. Appearances were certainly very much against him; for his tail sunk between his legs, and he held his head down, looking sideways, with a sneaking glance at his disappointed companion. Indignant at what he supposed to be an attempt to get up a character for generosity on false pretences, the offended guest seized his unfortunate host, and cuffed him most unmercifully. Poor Reynard bore the infliction with the utmost patience, and sneaked off, as if conscious that he had received no more than might naturally be expected under the circumstances.Mrs. Child.

movements appear to be extended with perfect ease, and to be under the most complete control, whether quietly floating in the calmest atmosphere, or riding the furious blasts of the hurricane. Another peculiarity of the albatross is the shape of the bill, which has many of the characteristics belonging to a bird of prey. It is six inches in length, extending at first in a straight line, and then, sweeping into a curve, terminates in a most formidable hooked point. With this peculiarity of the eagle and falcon, it has the webbed feet, divested of claws, so clearly an attribute of the aquatic tribe, and which, with its enormous breadth of wing, appear to mark it as the exclusive occupant of the cloud and the wave, of the raging blast or heaving billow; for no sooner does it set foot on the vessel's deck than it loses all majesty of appearance and grace of motion, staggers awkwardly, and, like a lubberly landsman, into the lee-scuppers, and, similar to the latter under identical circumstances, seeks relief by the same means that follow an emetic.-Colonel Napier's "Wild Sports."

THE ALBATROSS.

THIS noble bird, which may be said to constitute the head of the gull family, is in body about the size of a common goose; but to enable it to undertake the extraordinary flights, which often carry it hundreds of leagues from any resting-place except the billows foaming under its rapid course, it is provided with wings of great length and power. With these, which often measure as much as twelve feet from tip to tip, it glides in search of prey over boundless tracts, often, it is said, sleeping even whilst soaring over the waters. Insatiable and voracious in appetite, it is always craving and never satisfied. Not content with feeding on the inhabitants of the deep, it preys indiscriminately on everything which comes across. The smaller aquatic birds are not free from its great voracity, which is not unfrequently the means of its capture and destruction. A piece of pork or suet, fixed on a small hook, and allowed to drag by a long line in the wake of the vessel, often proves a temptation too strong to be resisted: the greedy bird stoops on his prey, swallows the bait, and then, with distended wings, is towed on board, and soon stands tottering on deck amidst the exulting captors, who frequently employ, with similar success, the same device to ensnare the smaller pintado or Cape pigeon. The immense power of wing of the albatross enables it to cleave the air with the greatest facility and with a motion peculiar to itself; its widelyextended pinions, without any perceptible volition, carry it rapidly from the extreme verge of the horizon; whilst its gliding and graceful

CAPTURE OF A SNAKE.

WATERTON, in his "Wanderings in South America," gives the following account of catching a snake. He had sent his Indian servant, Daddy Quashi, to look for something he had lost in the forest, and during his absence, he says, I discovered a young coulacanaro, ten feet long, slowly moving onwards I saw he was not thick enough to break my arm, in case he got twisted around it. There was not a moment to be lost. I laid hold of his tail with the left hand, one knee being on the ground; with the right hand I took off my hat, and held it as you would a shield of defence. The snake instantly turned, and came on at me, with his head about a yard from the ground, as if to ask me what business I had to take liberties with his tail. I let him come, hissing and open-mouthed, within two feet of my face, and then with all the force I was master of, I drove my fist, shielded by my hat, full in his jaws. He was stunned and confounded by the blow, and ere he could recover himself, I had seized his throat with both hands, in such a position that he could not bite me: I then allowed him to coil himself round my body, and marched off with him as my lawful prize. He pressed me hard, but not alarmingly so. In the meantime, Daddy Quashi having returned, and hearing the noise which the fray occasioned, was coming cautiously up. As soon as he saw me, and in what company I was, he turned about, and ran off home, I after him, shouting to increase his fear. On scolding him for his cowardice, the old rogue begged I would forgive him, for that the sight of the snake had positively turned him sick.