I do not intend to maintain the pet _system_ in general; it is the principle of humanity which I seek, not that mawkish sensibility which causes so many to weep at the dramatic exhibition of fictitious woe, who would not drop one tear of sympathy for real misery, divested, as in the scenes of every-day life, of the embellishments and romantic adjuncts which false sentiment delights in. We all, it is true, require some especial objects of endearment, something on which the feelings of the heart may find expansion, else we become cold, selfish, and very disagreeable to every one. In childhood, therefore, the disposition to love even the domestic animals born for our use, should be sedulously fostered, but not to such excess as to weaken the affection for parents, brothers, sisters, or friends. The principle should only be checked, however, in its exuberance, never crushed. In mature years the affections should have the highest objects, and in those instances in which the Creator has denied the gift of offspring to us, I would respectfully suggest to those who desire pets, the adoption of an orphan or two, whom they may train both for earth and heaven, in preference to any other perishable idols. LAGHT-E-OURIA. "The longest way round is often the shortest way home."--_Old Proverb._ I was not more than eight or nine years old when the following anecdote was related to me by the actor or sufferer, whichever he might be called, himself. He was a fine stately old gentleman. His family had once been powerful; but in the troubles with which the page of Ireland's history is filled and darkened, they had been reduced, and he, fleeced by a treacherous guardian of the last remnant of the property, had been compelled to accept the influence of friends in procuring him a commission in the civil service (for in war he would not serve them) of a government which he loathed. He was of a stern and rather gloomy disposition, and rarely condescended to social or pleasant conversation, much less to notice children; but sometimes the genial fire within would thaw the icy surface, and diffuse life and light around. The bow could not be kept ever bent: the garrison was too feeble to keep constant watch and ward, and a view would be sometimes gained, through an open door, of a heart fitted by nature to give and receive all sublunary happiness. I heard his history long after his career had closed. But it has nothing to do with the present story--another time for it.