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vention then, was worth more than a pound of cure, after the habit is fixed. The disadvantages arising from anger, under all circumstances, should prove a panacea for the complaint. In moments of cool reflection, the man who indulges it, views, with deep regret, the desolations produced by a summer storm of passion. Friendship, domestic happiness, self-respect, the esteem of others, and sometimes property; are swept away by a whirlwind—perhaps a tornado of anger. I have more than once seen the furniture of a house in a mass of ruin, the work of an angry moment. I have seen anger make wives unhappy, alienate husbands, spoil children, derange all harmony, and disturb the quiet of a whole neighbourhood. Anger, like too much wine, hides us from ourselves, but exposes us to others. If the man who has, for years, been a confirmed drunkard, can form, and religiously keep, a resolution to refrain from the fatal poison, the man who has often been intoxicated with anger, should go and do likewise. He can but try—the effort may be crowned with triumphant success.



A SAGE and poor shepherd looked for truth. The former sought her among the stars, the latter found her at his feet.

Life, to youth, is a fairy tale just opened; to old age, a tale read through, ending in death. Be wise in time, that you may be happy in eternity.

Happiness, like a snail, is never found from home, nor without a home."

The rose is sweetest when it first opens; the spikenard root, when the herb dies. Beauty belongs to youth, and dies with it, but the odour of piety survives death, and perfumes the tomb.

Never be cast down by trifles. If a spider breaks his thread twenty times in a day, he patiently mends it each time. Make up your mind to do a good thing, it will be done. Fear not troubles, keep up your spirits, the darkness will pass away. If the sun is going down, look at the stars; if they are hid by clouds, still look up to heaven, rely upon the promises of God, and be cheerful. Never yield to misfortunes. Mind what you run after; avoid bubbles that will burst, and fire-works that end in smoke; get that which is worth keeping, and can be kept.

Fight against a hasty temper; a spark may set a house on fire; a fit of passion may cause you to mourn long and bitterly. Govern your passions, or they will govern you. Conquer your enemies by kindness, preserve your friends by prudence, deserve the esteem of all by goodness..

The road ambition travels, is too narrow for friendship, too crooked for love, too rugged for honesty, too dark for science, and too hilly for happiness.

Evil thoughts are dangerous enemies, and should be repulsed at the threshold of our minds. Fill the head and heart with good thoughts, that there be no room for bad ones.

Drinking water, neither makes a man sick nor in debt, or his wife a widow. Prosperity gains a thousand intimates, adversity often shows us that not one of them is a real friend. Sunshine friends are the green flies of society.

Instruction by precept is tedious, by example, more effectual and short.

Life consists not in mere existence, but in spending our time in doing good here, that we may be forever happy hereafter.

Take special care what, and to whom you speak of any individual.

Fools and obstinate people make lawyets rich ; the wise keep out of the law labyrinth.

Help yourself and heaven will help you ; every man is the architect of his own fortune.


O cursed lust of gold, when for thy sake,
The fool throws up his interest in both worlds,
First starv'd in this—then damn'd in that to come.-Blair.

A JUDICIOUS writer has well remarked, that avarice is the father of more children than Priam, and, like him, survives them all. It is a paradoxical propensity-a species of heterogeneous insanity. The miser starves himself, knowing that those who wish him dead, will fatten on his hoarded gains. He submits to more torture to lose heaven, than the martyr does to gain it. He serves the worst of tyrannical masters, more faithfully than most Christians do the best, whose yoke is easy and burden light. He worships this world, but repudiates all its pleasures. He endures all the miseries of poverty through life, that he may die in the midst of wealth. He is the mere turnkey of his

own riches—a poor fed and bad clothed slave, refusing proffered, unconditional freedom. He is the cocoon of the human race-death ends his toils, and others reel off the glossy product of his labors. He is the father of more miseries than the prodigal—whilst he lives, he heaps them on himself and those around him. He is his own and the poor man's enemy,-money is the tomb of all his passions and desires,-his mind is never expanded beyond the circumference of the almighty dollar. He thinks not of his immortal soul, his accountability to God, or of his final destiny. He covets the wealth of others, revels in extortion, stops at nothing to gratify his ruling passion, that will not endanger his dear idol. He is an Ishmael in community,—he passes to the grave without tasting the sweets of friendship, the delights of social intercourse, or the comforts of a good repast, unless the latter is got by invitation, when abroad. The first voluntary expenditure upon his body, during his manhood, and the first welcome visit of his neighbours, both passive on his part, are at his funeral.

If we would enjoy the comforts of life rationally, we must avoid the miseries of avarice, and the evils of prodigality. Let us use the provisions of our benevolent Benefactor without abusing them, and Him that gratitude which is His due. Banish all inordinate desires after wealth-if you gain an abundance, be discreetly liberal—judiciously benevolent, and, if your children have arrived at their majority, die your own executor.

Be thou my star in reason's night,
Be thou my rock in danger's fright,
Be thou my guide mid passion's way,
My moon by night—my sun by day.Milman.

The highest eulogy we can pronounce upon this book of all books, is, to take it for the man of our counsel, and the polar star of our lives—not merely to admit and laud its superior excellency, and let it remain on the shelf, until ANATHEMA MARANATHA, can be written in the dust upon its lids, and criminally neglecting to aid in giving it to the millions, who are groping in papal and heathen darkness. Divine in its origin, written by the pen of inspiration, dipped in the burning indignation of God against the wicked, on the one hand; and in the melting fountain of his love, for the good, on the other; the sublimity of its language caps the climax of Rhetoric. As a History of that grand epoch, when God said, “Let there be light; and there was light,” it stands alone, clothed in the majesty of Divinity. As a Chronicle of the creation of man, after the moral image of Deity, of his ruinous fall, and of his subsequent mad career, it must remain unrivalled. As a Chart of human nature, and of human rights and wrongs, and of the character of the great Jehovah, its delineations, in precision, fulness, and force of description; far exceed the boldest strokes and finest touches, of the master spirits of every age and clime. As a system of Morals and Religion, every effort of man, to add to its transcendent beauty, or omnipotent strength, is presumption, and as vain, as

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