Ann went immediately to Alice's room on her return.--She apologized to her for reproving her so roughly, described her walk, gave a synopsis of Isabel's advice, and her consequent determinations. By these means she diverted Alice's thoughts from herself, gave her nerves a healthy spring, and when the bell summoned them to dinner, she had recovered much of her happier humor. Ellinora sat beside her at table. She laughingly proposed an exchange, offering a portion of her levity for as much of her gravity. She thought the _equilibrium_ would be more perfect. So Alice thought, and she heartily wished that the exchange might be made. And this exchange seems actually taking place at this time. They are as intimate as sisters. Together they are resolutely struggling against the tide of habit. They meet many discouraging failures; but Isabel is ever ready to cheer them by her sympathy, and to assist them by her advice. Ann's faults were not so deeply rooted; perhaps she brought more natural energy to their extermination. Be that as it may, she is now an excellent lady, a fit companion for the peerless Isabel. The Clark girls do not, as yet, coalesce in their system of improvement. They still prefer making netting and dresses, to the lecture-room, the improvement circle, and even to the reading of the "Book of books." So difficult is it to turn from the worship of Plutus! The delusion of Bertha and Charlotte is partially broken. Bertha is beginning to understand that much reading does not naturally result in intellectual or moral improvement, unless it be well regulated. Charlotte is learning that "to enjoy is to obey;" and that to pamper her own animal appetites, while her father and mother are suffering for want of the necessaries of life, is not in obedience to Divine command. And, dear sisters, how is it with each one of _us_? How do we spend our leisure hours? Now, "in the stilly hour of night," let us pause, and give our consciences time to render faithful answers. D. THE TOMB OF WASHINGTON. "He sleeps there in the midst of the very simplicities of Nature." There let him sleep, in Nature's arms, Her well-beloved, her chosen child-- There 'mid the living, quiet charms Of that sequestered wild. He would have chosen such a spot, 'Twas fit that they should lay him there, Away from all the haunts of care; The world disturbs him not.-- He sleeps full sweet in his retreat-- The place is consecrated ground, It is not meet unhallowed feet Should tread that sacred mound.