I love you. The first impulse of my love is to dissuade you from secking to know more. Your mind will be full of ideas; your hands will be perpetually busy to a purpose into which no human creature, beyond the verge of your brotherhood, must pry. Believe me, who have made the experiment, that compared with this task, the task of inviolable secrecy, all others are easy. To be dumb will not suffice; never to know any remission in your zeal or your watchfulness will not suffice. If the sagacity of others detect your occupations, however strenuously you may labour for concealment, your doom is ratified, as well as that of the wretch whose evil destiny led him to pursue you.

Yet if your fidelity fail not, great will be your recompence. For all your toils and self-devotion, ample will be the retribution. Hitherto you have been wrapt in darkness and storm; then will you be exalted to a pure and unruffled element. It is only for a time that temptation will environ you, and your path will be toilsome. In a few years you will be permitted to withdraw to a land of sages, and the remainder of your life will glide away in the enjoyments of beneficence and wisdom.

Think deeply on what I have said. Investigate your own motives and opinions, and prepare to submit them to the test of numerous hazards and experiments.

Here my friend passed to a new topic. I was desirous of reverting to this subject, and obtaining further information concerning it, but he assiduously repelled all my attempts, and insisted on my bestowing deep and impartial attention on what had already been disclosed. I was not slow to comply with his directions. My mind refused to admit any other theme of contemplation than this.

As yet I had no glimpse of the nature of this fraternity. I was permitted to form conjectures, and previous incidents bestowed but one form upon my thoughts. In reviewing the sentiments and deportment of Ludloe, my belief continually ac

quired new strength. I even recollected hints and ambiguous allusions in his discourse, which were easily solved, on the supposition of the existence of a new model of society, in some unsuspected corner of the world.

I did not fully perceive the necessity of secrecy; but this necessity perhaps would be rendered apparent, when I should come to know the connection that subsisted between Europe and this imaginary colony. But what was to be done? I was willing to abide by these conditions. My understanding might not approve of all the ends proposed by this fraternity, and I had liberty to withdraw from it,, or to refuse to ally myself with them. That the obligation of secrecy should still remain, was unquestionably reasonable.

It appeared to be the plan of Ludloe rather to damp than to stimulate my zeal. He discouraged all attempts to renew the subject in conversation. He dwelt upon the arduousness of the office to which I aspired, the temptations to violate my duty with which I should be continually beset, the inevitable death with which the slightest breach of my engagements would be followed, and the long apprenticeship which it would be necessary for me to serve, before I should be fitted to enter into this conclave.

Sometimes my courage was depressed by these representations...... My zeal, however, was sure to revive; and at length Ludloe declared himself willing to assist me in the accomplishment of my wishes. For this end, it was necessary, he said, that I should be informed of a second obligation, which every candidate must assume. Before any one could be deemed qualified, he must be thoroughly known to his associates. For this end, he must determine to disclose every fact in his history, and every secret of his heart. I must begin with making these confessions, with regard to my past life, to Ludloe, and must continue to communicate, at stated seasons, every new thought, and every new occur

rence, to him. This confidence was to be absolutely limitless: no exceptions were to be admitted, and no reserves to be practised; and the same penalty attended the infraction of this rule as of the former. Means would be employed, by which the slightest deviation, in either case, would be detected, and the deathful consequence would follow with instant and inevitable expedition. If secrecy were difficult to practise, sincerity, in that degree in which it was here demanded, was a task infinitely more arduous, and a period of new deliberation was necessary before I should decide. I was at liberty to pause: nay, the longer was the period of deliberation which I took, the better; but, when I had once entered this path, it was not in my power to recede. After having solemnly avowed my resolution to be thus sincere in my confession, any particle of reserve or duplicity would cost me my life.

This indeed was a subject to be deeply thought upon. Hitherto I had been guilty of concealment with regard to my friend. I had entered into no formal compact, but had been conscious to a kind of tacit obligation to hide no important transaction of my life from him. This consciousness was the source of continual anxiety. I had exerted, on numerous occasions, my bivocal faculty, but, in my intercourse with Ludloe, had suffered not the slightest intimation to escape me with regard to it. This reserve was not easily explained. It was, in a great degree, the product of habit; but I likewise considered that the efficacy of this instrument depended upon its existence being unknown. To confide the secret to one, was to put an end to my privilege: how widely the knowledge would thenceforth be diffused, I had no power to foresee.

Each day multiplied the impediments to confidence. Shame hindered me from acknowledging my past reserves. Ludloe, from the nature of our intercourse, would certainly account my reserve, in this respect, unjustifiable, and to excite

his indignation or contempt was an unpleasing undertaking. Now, if I should resolve to persist in my new path, this reserve must be dismissed: I must make him master of a secret which was precious to me beyond all others; by acquainting him with past concealments, I must risk incurring his suspicion and his anger. These reflections were productive of considerable embarrassment.

There was, indeed, an avenue by which to escape these difficulties, if it did not, at the same time, plunge me into greater. My confessions might, in other respects, be unbounded, but my reserves, in this particular, might be continued. Yet should I not expose myself to formidable perils? Would my secret be for ever unsuspected and undiscovered?

When I considered the nature of this faculty, the impossibility of going farther than suspicion, since the agent could be known only by his own confession, and even this confession would not be believed by the greater part of mankind, I was tempted to conceal it.

In most cases, if I had asserted the possession of this power, I should be treated as a liar; it would be considered as an absurd and audacious expedient to free myself from the suspicion of having entered into compact with a dæmon, or of being myself an emissary of the grand foe. Here, however, there was no reason to dread a similar imputation, since Ludloe had denied the preternatural pretensions of these airy sounds.

My conduct on this occasion was nowise influenced by the belief of any inherent sanctity in truth. Ludloe had taught me to model myself in this respect entirely with a view to immediate consequences. If my genuine interest, on the whole, was promoted by veracity, it was proper to adhere to it; but, if the result of my investigation were opposite, truth was to be sacrificed withou tscruple

To be continued.

For the Literary Magazine.

AGRICULTURAL ESSAYS.

NO. III.

DR. HUNTER, in the work referred to in our last essay, observes, that it is not sufficient for the farmer to be acquainted with the nature of the different soils, he should also know the shape of the roots of such plants as are used in field husbandry.

He has selected the roots of wheat for illustration, as that golden grain being the most valuable, demands our greatest attention.

Wheat, he observes, has two sets of roots. The first comes immediately from the grain; the other shoots from the crown some time after. They may be distinguished by the terms seminal and coronal

roots.

Wheat being subject to the severity of winter, its roots are wonderfully disposed to withstand the inclemency of the season. A view of their shape will direct us in the manner of sowing the grain to the most advantage, and, at the same time enable us to account for some of the phenomena observable in the growth of it.

It has been observed above, that wheat has a double root. The first, or seminal root, is pushed out at the same time with the germ, which, together with the farina, nourishes the plant until it has formed its

crown.

When the crown has become sufficiently large, it detaches a number of strong fibres, which push themselves obliquely downwards. These are the coronal roots. A small pipe preserves the communication between them and the seminal roots. It makes an essential part of the plant, and is observed to be longer or shorter according to the depth that the seed has been buried. It is remarkable, however, that the crown is always formed just within the surface of the ground. Its place is the same, whether the grain has

been sowed deep or superficial....... This may be perhaps not improperly termed vegetable instinct. As the increase and fructification of the plant depends upon the vigorous absorption of the coronal roots, it is no wonder that they should fix themselves so near the surface, where the soil is always the richest.

In the northern countries wheat is generally sown late. When the frost comes, the coronal roots being young, are frequently chilled. This inconvenience, however, may be easily prevented, by sowing more early, and burying the seed deeper..... The seminal roots, being out of the frost, will then be enabled to send up nourishment to the crown, by means of the pipe of communication,

Hence it is obvious, that wheat sown superficially must be exposed to the severity of the frost, from the shortness of the pipe of communication. The plant, in that situation, has no benefit from its double root. On the contrary, when the grain has been properly covered, the seminal and coronal roots are kept at a reasonable distance. The crown being well nourished during the winter, sends up numerous stalks in the spring.

So far Dr. Hunter. I shall now close this essay with the following extract from a late English periodical work, hoping that it may afford an useful hint to some of our American farmers.

From a communication made by R. Brown, of Marckle, near Haddington, in Great Britain, to the Society of Arts, for which he received a premium of twenty guineas, it appears,

1. That wheat may be sown with advantage in the spring months, till the middle of March, if the weather be then dry, the land in good condition, and the succeeding summer moderately warm.

2. That under these circumstances the period of harvest is not retarded above ten days by the late sowing, especially in favourable seasons.

3. That the grain produced from

spring crops of wheat is equally good in quality as that sown in the autumn and winter months.

It may here be observed, that as vegetation in this climate, after it has once commenced, goes on with greater rapidity than in Great Britain, it is probable that it would answer to sow wheat, even at a later period in the spring than that mentioned above.

RURICOLA.

For the Literary Magazine.

PORTRAITS.

1.

JULIA was the favourite child of her father. Her life had numbered twenty-five years. She was not handsome, either in person or face. Her countenance bespoke warmth of temper and irritability. Few at a first interview were prepossessed in her favour, or would say, I should like to be upon terms of intimacy with that woman. Her understanding was uncommonly strong, her discernment quick, her wit keen, her taste correct, her mind active and penetrating, and though at times she was disposed to be severe and censorious, yet her heart was generally warm and affectionate.

II.

Esperanza had just entered her nineteenth year. None who knew her ceased to esteem and to love her. The expression of her countenance was irresistibly captivating. Her complexion was clear and blooming, and, without regularity of features, or any singular advantages of person, she would be called beautiful and uncommonly interesting..... Her intellectual qualities were superior to those which generally fall to the lot of woman. Her sensibility was refined, her fondness for poetry almost extravagant, her imagination active and inventive. She had read

Rosa was a striking contrast with her two elder sisters. She was sprightly as the lark when he hails the first blush of morning. She was wild and imprudent, and neglectful of advice. Giddy in the pursuit of pleasure, she was heedless of consequences. She was not deficient in understanding, but that understanding she left uncultivated, for she was the student of dress. Her disposition was not unamiable, but it was not sufficiently corrected: it was frequently perverted. She was ge nerally considered handsome: this she knew, and this was extremely detrimental to her progress in knowledge.

IV.

Laura resembled Esperanza more than any of her sisters. She was less giddy than Rosa, and less mild than Esperanza. She was not sufficiently studious. She was gifted with a good understanding and amiable manners, but the gifts of nature she did not industriously improve. Her temper was generous, but at times a little waspish. Her appearance was not strikingly beautiful, but was on the whole interesting..... She had it in her power to become highly respectable, when contemplated in every point of view.

For the Literary Magazine.

CRITICAL NOTICES.

NO. VI.

EVER since I have had a relish for poetry, I have passionately admired the poems of Gray. There is