ble child will dread the frown of a judicious mother, more than all the rods, dark rooms, and scolding school-mistresses in the universe. We should teach our children to make friends of us, to communicate all their thoughts to us; and while their innocent prattle will amuse us, we shall find many opportunities of teaching them important truths, almost without knowing it.

COMPOSITION.

The rules of composition are, in my opinion, very few. If we have a mature acquaintance with our subject, there is little fear of our expressing it as we ought, provided we have had some little experience in writing. The first thing to be aimed at is perspicuity. That is the great point, which, once attained, will make all other obstacles smooth to us. In order to write perspicuously we should have a perfect knowledge of the topic on which we are about to treat, in all its bearings and dependencies. We should think well beforehand what will be the clearest method of conveying the drift of our design. This is similar to what the painters call the massing, or getting the effect of the more prominent lights and shades by broad dashes of the pencil. When our thesis is well arranged in our mind, and we have predisposed our arguments, reasonings, and illustrations, so as they shall conduce to the object in view, in regular sequence and gradation, we may sit down and express our ideas in as clear a manner as we can, always using such words as are most suited to our purpose; and when two modes of expression, equally luminous, present themselves, selecting that which is the most harmonious and elegant.

It sometimes happens that writers, in aiming at perspicuity, overreach themselves, by employing too

many words, and perplex the mind by a multiplicity of illustrations. This is a very fatal error. Circumlocution seldom conduces to plainness; and you may take it as a maxim, that when once an idea is clearly expressed, every additional stroke will only confuse the mind, and diminish the effect.

When you have once learned to express yourself with clearness and propriety, you will soon arrive at elegance. Every thing else, in fact, will follow as of course. But I warn you not to invert the order of things, and be paying your addresses to the Graces, when you ought to be studying perspicuity. Young writers, in general, are too solicitous to round off their periods, and regulate the cadences of their style. Hence the feeble pleonasms and idle repetitions which deform their pages. If you would have your compositions vigorous, and masculine in their tone, let every word tell; and when you detect yourself polishing off a sentence with expletives, regard yourself in exactly the same predicament with a poet who should eke out the measure of his verses with titum, titom, tee, sir.' So much for style

·

Accustom yourself to write down your thoughts, and to polish the style some time after composition, when you have forgotten the expression. Aim at conciseness, neatness, and clearness; never make use of fine or vulgar words. Avoid every epithet which does not add greatly to the idea, for every addition of this kind, if it do not strengthen, weakens the sentiment ; and be cautious never to express by two words what you can do as well by one: a multiplicity of words only hides the sense, just as a superabundance of clothes does the shape. This much for studies.

CONFIDENCE IN SELF.

As to the something that I am to find out, that is a perpetual bar to your progress in knowledge, &c., I am inclined to think, Doctor, it is merely conceit. You fancy that you cannot write a letter-you dread its idea; you conceive that a work of four volumes would require the labors of a life to read through; you persuade yourself that you cannot retain what you read, and in despair not to attempt to conquer these visionary impediments. Confidence, Neville, in one's own abilities, is a sure forerunner (in similar circumstances with the present) of success. As an illustration of this, I beg leave to adduce the example of Pope, who had so high a sense, in his youth, or rather in his infancy, of his own capacity, that there was nothing of which, when once set about, he did not think himself capable; and, as Dr. Johnson has observed, the natural consequence of this minute perception of his own powers was his arriving at as high a pitch of perfection as it was possible for a man with his few natural endowments to attain.

DESPONDENCE.

And now, my dear Ben, I must confess your letter gave me much pain; there is a tone of despondence in it which I must condemn, inasmuch as it is occasioned by circumstances which do not involve your own exertions, but which are utterly independent of yourself: if you do your duty, why lament that it is not productive? In whatever situation we may be placed, there is a duty we owe to God and religion: it is resignation;-nay, I may say contentment.

All

things are in the hands of God; and shall we mortals (if we do not absolutely repine at his dispensations) be fretful under them? I do beseech you, my dear Ben, summon up the Christian within you, and, steeled with holy fortitude, go on your way rejoicing! There is a species of morbid sensibility to which I myself have often been a victim, which preys upon my heart, and, without giving birth to one actively useful or benevolent feeling, does but brood on selfish sorrows, and magnify its own misfortunes. The evils of such a sensibility, I pray to God you may never feel; but I would have you beware, for it grows on persons of a certain disposition before they are aware of it.

There are sorrows, and there are misfortunes which bow down the spirit beyond the aid of all human comfort. Of these, I know, my dear Ben, you have had more than common experience; but while the cup of life does overflow with draughts of such extreme asperity, we ought to fortify ourselves against lesser evils, as unimportant to man, who has much heavier woes to expect, and to the Christian, whose joys are laid beyond the verge of mortal existence. There are afflictions, there are privations, where death and hopes irrecoverably blasted, leave no prospect of retrivial; when I would no more say to the mourner Man, wherefore weepest thou?' than I would ask the winds why they blew, or the tempest why it raged. Sorrows like these are sacred; but the inferior troubles of partial separation, vexatious occupation, and opposing current of human affairs, are such as ought not, at least immoderately, to affect a Christian, but

rather ought to be contemplated as the necessary accidents of life, and disregarded while their pains are more sensibly felt.

Do not think, I beseech you, my dear Ben, that I wish to represent your sorrows, as light or trivial: I know they are not light; I know they are not trivial; but I wish to induce you to summon up the man within you; and while those unhappy troubles, which you cannot alleviate, must continue to torment you, I would exhort you to rise superior to the crosses of life, and shew yourself a genuine disciple of Jesus Christ, in the endurance of evil without repining, or unavailable lamentations.

Blest as you are with the good testimony of an approving conscience, and happy in an intimate communion with the all-pure and all-merciful God, these trifling concerns ought not to molest you; nay, were the tide of adversity to turn strong against you, even were your friends to forsake you, and abject poverty to stare you in the face, you ought to be abundantly thankful to God for his mercies to you; you ought to consider yourself still as rich, yea, to look around you, and say, I am far happier than the sons of men.

This is a system of philosophy which, for myself, I shall not only preach but practice. We are here for nobler purposes than to waste the fleeting moments of our lives in lamentations and wailings over troubles, which, in their widest extent, do but effect the present state, and which, perhaps, only regard our personal ease and prosperity. Make me an outcast-a beggar; place me, a barefooted pilgrim, on the top of the Alps or the Pyrenees, and I should have wherewithal to sustain the spirit within me, in the reflection that all