Dear old lady!  I left her when that pleasant year was ended, and never saw her again.  She has long since entered into her rest:  but I often think of her maxim, and in many cases have proved its value.

I think of it when I see a man spending time and money, and enduring all the wretchedness of long suspense or excitement, in a lawsuit which he might have avoided; and which, whether lost or gained, will prove to him a source of continual self-reproach.  When I see a business man who, by an overbearing demeanor and oppressive attempts to make too much of a good bargain, has converted a conscientious and peace-loving partner into an unyielding opponent:  or, when I hear of a farmer who has provoked a well-disposed neighbor by killing his fowls and throwing them over the fence, instead of trying some neighborly way of preventing their depredations on his grain.  When I have seen a teacher exciting the emulation of a jealous-minded child; or by threats, or even by ill-timed reasoning(?), converting a momentary pettishness into a fit of obstinacy—­I have felt as if I wanted to whisper in her ear, “Do not seem to notice them; let well enough alone.”  When I see an envious mother depreciating and finding fault with a judicious and conscientious teacher till she has discouraged or provoked her, I think it likely that the day will come when both mother and children will wish that she had “let well enough alone.”  So, too, when I observe a mother forcing upon her daughters an accomplishment for which they have no taste:  a father compelling his son to study law or physic, while the bent of his genius leads to machinery or farming:  or a widow with a little property placing her children under the doubtful protection of a young stepfather.  Vanitia is intelligent and well read, and appears to advantage in general society; but her love of admiration, her wish to be thought superior, is so inordinate, that she cannot bear to appear ignorant of any subject; hence she often tries to seem conversant with matters of which she knows nothing, and perceives not that she thereby sinks in the estimation of those whose homage she covets.  Affectua is pretty and accomplished, and, two years ago, awakened goodwill in all who saw her.  Latterly, however, she has exchanged her simple and natural manners for those which are plainly artificial and affected.  What a pity these ladies cannot “let well enough alone!”

But I must stop, or my reader may exclaim:  Enough—­practice thy own precept—­and let well enough alone.

* * * * *

SUSAN CLIFTON; OR, THE CITY AND THE COUNTRY.

BY PROFESSOR ALDEN.

CHAPTER I.

On a pleasant afternoon in August, two gentlemen were sitting in the shade of a large walnut tree which stood in front of an ancient, yet neat and comfortable farmhouse.  Perhaps it would be more in accordance with modern usage to say that a gentleman and a man were sitting there; for the one was clothed in the finest broadcloth, the other in ordinary homespun.  They had just returned from a walk over the farm, which had been the scene of their early amusements and labors.