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Despair is never quite despair;

Nor life, nor death the future closes ;
And round the shadowy brow of care,
Will Hope and Fancy twine their roses.

PURITY OF HEART.

PURITY of heart must proceed from the sanctifying influ ence of the Holy Spirit. It is one of the most exalted virtues that can dignify human nature. It gives strength, vigor, and masculine firmness to the mind, which is the foundation of everything great and excellent.

He who combats his daily passions, and gives up the fondest wishes of his soul; who keeps a constant guard upon his thoughts, words, and actions, and takes up his cross to follow Christ; this man cannot well be influenced by anything but a strong sense of duty, and an undissembled conviction that he is bound to obey even the severest precepts of the gospel.

ARTIFICE.

THE most innocent dissimulation is never without disadvantages; whether criminal or not, artifice is always dangerous, and almost invariably productive of misery. The best and soundest policy is, in no case to employ artifice, or to practise the slightest deception, but to be, in every cir cumstance of life, upright and sincere. This is the natural system of virtuous minds, and superiority of talents and of understanding is alone sufficient to lead to its adoption.

THE BLANK BOOK AND PRINTED BOOK.

A FABLE.

A BLANK book and a printed book were placed by the side of each other on a shelf. The blank book was often pulled out, and as often shut again with a bang, and put up with an air of vexation by those who had opened it, and sometimes with the remark, " O, there is nothing in this." But the printed book, as soon as it was opened, and glanced at, was applauded with, "This will just do."

introduced

taken out as

It was allowed a place near the fire, into company with sociable parlor guests, a companion for a walk with some of the ladies, when they rambled the fields, or strolled into the pleasure grounds, and the garden,— indulged with lying on their laps in the bower, and sometimes it went out visiting, and was brought home again, much praised for the pleasure its company had afforded.

One day, when returned for a short time to its place on the shelf, the blank book inquired, what it was that gave the printed book so many privileges. "You are often taken down, and admired," said the blank book, "and you go out visiting with the gentlemen and ladies, while I remain here neglected, and as dull as one of the dark days before Christmas. I think I am as big as you,— as old as you, - as well dressed as you, and as much by right, one of the family as you; what then makes people neglect me, and always desire your society?" "Neither of the things you mention," said the printed book, " give me any preference; it is what I have got printed inside."

We can never expect to enjoy the society of the wise and good, if we are like the blank book, with not a page of knowledge in us.

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When near him a Chameleon seen
Was scarce distinguished from the green.
"Dear emblem of the flatt'ring host,
What, live with clowns! a genius lost!
To cities and the court repair;

A fortune cannot fail thee there.
Preferment shall thy talents crown;
Believe me, my friend, I know the town."
"Sir," says the sycophant, "like you,
Of old, politer life I knew;

Like you, a courtier born and bred;
Kings lean'd an ear to what I said,
My whisper always met success;
The ladies praised me for address.
I knew to hit each courtier's passion,
And flatter'd every vice in fashion.
But Jove who hates the liar's ways,
At once cut short my prosp'rous days;
And sentenced to retain my nature,
Transform'd me to this crawling creature :
Doom'd to a life obscure and mean,
I wander in a sylvan scene.
For Jove, the heart alone, regards;
He punishes, what man rewards.
How different is thy case, and mine!
With men, at least, you sup and dine;
While I, condemn'd to thinnest fare,
Like those I flatter'd, feed on air."

PRUDENT SIMPLICITY.

THAT thou may'st injure no man, dove-like be, And serpent-like that none may injure thee.

SYMPATHY AND BENEVOLENCE.

SYMPATHY and benevolence constitute those finer feelings of the soul, which at once support and adorn human nature. What is it that guards our helpless infancy, and instructs our childhood, but sympathy? What is it that performs all the kind offices of friendship, in riper years, but sympathy? What is it that consoles us in our last moments, and defends our characters when dead, but sympathy?

A person without sympathy, and living only for himself, is the basest and most odious of characters. Can one behold such a character sickening at another's good, and not be filled with indignation? Devoted as the world is to selflove, and estranged as it is from benevolence, no character of this kind, ever passed through life with respect, or sunk into the grave with pity.

THE PILOT AND THE SAILORS.

AFTER a ship at sea had been driven some time before a furious storm, exposed every moment to the mercy of the waves, while the trembling passengers were bewailing their hard fate with many tears and sighs, and expected nothing but death, the weather suddenly cleared up, and the face of the ocean was covered with a smile. As the mariners were exulting with all the extravagance of joy at this happy change of their affairs, the weary Pilot, who was grown wise by experience, thus reproved their hasty mirth. "My good lads," said he, "we ought to rejoice with caution, and complain without despair; for the life of man is checkered alternately with joy and grief, and the frowns and smiles of fortune are alike inconstant."

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