" "How, dean! would you show yourself changed?" "No, but I will show that my country is changed." "What! since you produced your last work? only six weeks ago!" "Great changes may occur in six days;" replied the dean, with a threatening accent: "and if I find things have taken a new and improper turn, I will be the first to expose it." "But before you act in this manner, my dear, surely you will wait—" "I will wait till the See is disposed of to another." Said he. He did wait—The bishop died—The dean was promoted to the See of * * *, and wrote a folio on the prosperity of our happy country. WHILE the bishop and his son were sailing before prosperous gales on the ocean of life, young Henry was contending with adverse winds, and many other perils on the watery ocean—yet still, his distresses and dangers were less, than those which Hannah had to encounter on land. The sea threatens an untimely death; the shore menaces calamities from which death is a refuge. The afflictions Hannah had already experienced, could just admit of aggravation—the addition occurred. Had the good farmer, who made her the companion of his flocks and herds, lived till now, till now she might have been secure from the annoyance of human kind: but, thrown once more upon society, she was unfit to sustain the conflict of decorum against depravity.—Her master, her patron, her preserver, was dead; and hardly as she had earned the pittance she received from him, she sound, it surpassed all her power to obtain the like again. Her doubtful character, her capacious mind, her unmethodical manners were still ill suited to the nice precision of a country housewife; and as the prudent mistress of a family sneered at her pretensions, she, in her turn, scorned at the narrow-minded mistress of a family. In her enquiries how to gain her bread free from the cutting reproaches of discretion, she was informed "that London was the only private corner where guilt could be secreted undisturbed—and the only public place where in open day, it might triumphantly stalk, attended by a train of audacious admirers." There was a charm to the ear of Hannah, in the name of London, that thrilled through her soul—William lived in London—and she thought, that while she retired to some dark cellar with her offences, he probably would ride in state with his, and she at humble distance might sometimes catch a glance of him. As difficult as