him by flattery and amused him by her wit;
his suspicion would not have fired her pride—
she would have taken it us a thing of course,
and perhaps have felt neglected if she had
not seen it; and his anger would have been
turned aside by coaxing and submission.
When in the wrong he would have been
adroitly flattered into the right; and so his
own sensitive self-love would never have
been wounded by an over hard or fierce
integrity. Yield and flatter, and his wife would
be superior; oppose and reason, and she
would be slave.

Reflect on this, ye Englishwomen who travel
in France, and who believe in the perpetual
sunshine of French love. It is the true
and literal description of the general French
mind in love matters; and all who are
not prepared to be suspected, watched and
disbelieved as a matter of course, had
best eschew the charms, even of flattery,
gaiety, generosity, affectionate forethought,
exquisite politeness, and such keenness of
perception as seems to give an added sense,
and to open a new world.

STRIVE, WAIT, AND PRAY.

STRIVE; yet I do not promise
   The prize you dream of to-day,
Will not fade when you think to grasp it,
   And melt in your hand away;
But another and holier treasure,
   You would now perchance disdain,
Will come when your toil is over,
   And pay you for all your pain.

Wait; yet I do not tell you
   The hour you long for now,
Will not come with its radiance vanished,
   And a shadow upon its brow;
Yet far through the misty future,
   With a crown of starry light,
An hour of joy you know not
   Is winging her silent flight.

Pray; though the gift you ask for
   May never comfort your fears,
May never repay your pleading,
   Yet pray, and with hopeful tears;
An answer, not that you long for,
   But diviner, will come one day;
Your eyes are too dim to see it,
   Yet strive, and wait, and pray.

INDIA PICKLE.

IF some earthquake or sea volcano
were suddenly to add a hundred square
miles of fertile soil to our coast; if it
escaped the depressing influences of the
Woods and Forests, and fell into the hands
of landowners of the stamp of the owners of
the Brocklesby, Lowestoff, Holkham, or
Woburn estates; it is easy to imagine how
rapidly and completely the new territory
would be put in a condition to employ labour,
grow crops, and pay rent. It would be
surveyed, intersected with hard roads, accommodated
with branches from neighbouring
railroads, provided with coasting ports, and in
the shortest possible time brought as near as
possible to the centres of population where
more is eaten than grown. The lords of the
manor to whom the new land had fallen
would think it well worth while to sink
a capital in the improvements, or raise a loan
for that purpose on mortgage, if ready money
were wanting: capital being to land to be
cultivated as essential as fire and knives and
forks and plates are to turn raw food into a
decent dinner.

We need not draw from fancy a picture of
what an English speaking race would do
with a new country in the United States of
America. Every year, for the last twenty
years, has seen the steam-boat and the canal,
the railroad or the plankroad, penetrating
the most savage regions, and opening the
way for new colonies and new cities. By
such means, in a wonderfully short space of
time, the eastern and western, the northern
and southern ports of the Republic have been
united, and the cultivable lands lying
between rendered accessible and profitable for
the labours of a tide of emigrants—the
produce of corn and cotton fields carried to the
best market.

But, if we turn from the works of the
vigorous colonists of America, and the wise
improving landowners of England, to India—
a country whose richest provinces have been
for exactly one hundred years subject to
British rule—we find ourselves almost
transported back to the dark ages, when our skin-
clad ancestors were content to feed swine
on acorns, and barter with a few adventurous
foreigners a little wool and a little corn.
On the rich, fertile soil of India, there is
scarcely a single solid monument of Anglo-
Saxon enterprise to be found. The Indian
peasant tills the earth with the implements
of his ancestors a thousand years removed;
and the ten thousand white rulers seem
content to accept with the Eastern territory
Eastern traditions of government—native
principles with native subjects.

India is like Ireland in the good old times
of Ireland, before the potato famine and the
Encumbered Estates Act had sent the bankrupt
holders of great estates to live by work
instead of credit. There, in Tipperary and
Galway, and Connaught, were thousands on
thousands of acres where no farm-building,
barn, or beast-steading—no hut, no fence, no
drain, no road—had ever been made at the
cost of the landlord, who drew from a
half-naked peasantry a rack-rent for permission to
grow the potatoes on which they vegetated,
and to feed the pig they never ate.

India is one great rack-rented Irish estate,
conquered from conquerors, and administered
(with rare exceptions) on purely native
principles. The government is virtually the
landlord; and the whole efforts, the utmost
intelligence, of the ten thousand white officials