sneakingly withdrawing his eye from your countenance, for the purpose of getting past you unnoticed. Take no scorn on account of these things, but put it all down rather to the strength of friendship; for can there be any stronger test of that sentiment, than the desire of saving those whom we love from any thing that is disagreeable to them? It has been already remarked, that if you be in the regular habit of meeting and nodding to a person every now and then, the system is kept up till death do you part. On the other hand, if you can avoid seeing a person for some considerable time, the nod becomes _efféte_, and you ever after see, as if you saw not, each other. Sometimes, however, one gets a great relief in the midst of a fixed and hopeless nodding acquaintance, by happening to meet once more at the social board in some friend’s house, when you re-invigorate the principle, gather fresh intimacy, and perhaps, after all, take refuge from the unnecessary monotony of nodding terms in a serious friendship. If you can help yourself by this means, it may be all very well, though certainly it is rather hard that one should be forced into an intimacy with a man merely because he crosses your path rather oftener than the most of your other slight acquaintances. The best way, however, to lessen this part of the evils of life, is to walk with _as little circumspection as possible_. So ends my preachment about RECOGNITIONS. THE LADYE THAT I LOVE. Were I a doughty cavalier, On fire for high-born dame, To win her smile, with sword and spear, I’d seek a warrior’s fame; But since no more stern deeds of blood The gentle fair may move, I’ll woo in softer—better mood, The ladye that I love. For helmet bright with steel and gold, And plumes that flout the sky, I’ll bear a mind of hardier mould, And thoughts that sweep as high. For scarf athwart my corslet cast, With her fair name y-wove, I’ll have her pictured in my breast— The ladye that I love. No mettled steed through battle-throng, Shall bear me bravely on, But pride shall make my spirit strong, Where honours may be won: Among the great of mind and heart, My prowess I will prove; And thus I’ll win, by gentler art, The ladye that I love. R. C. PAY YOUR DEBT!