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fact; for to the heart of him who has been cold to filial or fraternal duty, the soothing charm of friendship and of love will ever be unknown. It is, therefore, evident, that to be happy, man must invariably consult the well being of others; to his fellow creatures he must attribute the bliss which he enjoys; it is a reward proportional to the exertion of his philanthropy. Abstract the man of virtue and benevolence from society, and you cut off the prime source of his happiness; he has no proper object on which to place his affection or exercise his humanity; the sudden rapture of the grateful heart, the tender tones of friendship, and the melting sweetness of expressive love, no longer thrill upon the ear, or swell his softened soul ; all is an aching void, a cheerless and almost unproductive waste; yet even in this situation, barren as it is, where none are found to pour the balm of pity, or listen to the plaint of sorrow, even here some enjoyment is derived from letting loose our affections upon inanimate nature. • Were I in a desert,' says Sterne, 'I would find something in it to call forth my affections. If I could not do better, I would fasten them upon some sweet myrtle, or seek some melancholy cypress to connect myself to. I would court their shade and greet them kindly for their protection. I would cut my name upon them, and declare they were the loveliest trees throughout the desert. If their leaves
withered, I would teach myself to mourn; and when they rejoiced, I would rejoice with them.'
That man was formed for society, seems a truth so well established, and the benefits arising from such an union, so apparent, that few would suppose it to have been doubted; yet have there been philosophers whom hypothesis, or the love of eccentricity, has led to prefer that period,
When wild in woods the noble savage ran.' An election so absurd, merits not a serious refutation. Every day's experience must convince the man of observation, that our happiness depends upon
the cultivation of our social duties, upon the nurture of humanity and benevolence; that our crimes are nearly in proportion to the rupture of domestic harmony, and that the flagitious deeds which glare upon us with so horrid an aspect, are often the consequences of indirect deviation from the still small voice of duty and of love. He, who has been accustomed to despise the feelings of the son, the husband, and the friend, will not often be found proof against the allurements of interest and of vice. He, who, unless driven by hunger and despair, lifts up his daring arm to arrest the property or the life of his fellow creature, never felt those soft sensations which arise from the consciousness of being beloved; for let no man be called wretched who has this in reserve, let no man be called poor who has a friend to consult.
Society has been aptly compared to a heap of embers, which, when separated, soon languish, darken, and expire; but, if placed together, glow with a ruddy and intense heat; a just emblem of the strength, happiness, and the security derived from the union of mankind. The savage, who never knew the blessings of combination, and he who quits society from apathy or misanthropic spleen, are like the separated embers, dark, dead, useless; they neither give nor receive heat, neither love nor are beloved. To what acts of heroism and virtue, in every age and nation, has not the impetus of affection given rise ? To what gloomy misery, despair, and even suicide, has not the desertion of society led? How often in the busy haunts of men, are all our noblest and gentlest virtues called forth? And how in the bosom of the recluse, do all the soft emotions languish and grow faint ?
As a corroborating instance of what has been advanced throughout this paper, it shall be illustrated with the following anecdote.
A respectable character, after having long figured away in the gay
world at Paris, was at length compelled to live in an obscure retreat in that city, the victim of severe and unforeseen misfortunes. He was so indigent, that he subsisted on an allowance from the parish. Every week a quantity of bread was sent to him sufficient for his support, and yet, at length, he demanded more. On this the curate sent for him. He went. “Do you live alone ? ' said the curate. “With whom, sir,' answered the unfortunate man, "is it possible I should live? I am wretched; you see that I am, since I thus solicit charity, and am abandoned by all the world. But, sir, continued the curate, if you live alone, why do you ask for more bread than is sufficient for yourself?' The other was quite disconcerted, and at last, with great reluctance, confessed that he had a dog. The curate did not drop the subject. He desired him to observe, that he was only the distributer of the bread that belonged to the poor, and that it was absolutely necessary that he should dispose of his dog. “Ah, sir,' exclaimed the poor man, weeping, "and if I lose my dog, who is then to love me?' The good parson, melting into tears, took his purse, and giv ing it him, “Take this, sir,' said he ; “this is mine; this I can give.
THE SABBATH SCHOOL.
Group after group are gathering, such as prest
Once to their Saviour's arms, and gently laid Their cherub heads upon his shielding breast,
Though sterner souls the fond approach forbade ; Group after group glide on with noiseless tread,
And round Jehovah's sacred altar meet, Where holy thoughts in infant hearts are bred,
And holy words their ruby lips repeat, Oft with a chastened glance and modulation sweet.
Yet some there are, upon whose childish brows
Wan poverty hath done the work of care ! Look up, ye sad ones ! 't is your Father's house,
Beneath whose consecrated dome you are. More gorgeous robes ye see, and trappings rare,
And watch the guadier forms that gaily move, And deem, perchance, mistaken as you are,
The coat of many colors proves His love, Whose sign is in the heart, and whose reward above.
And ye, blest laborers in this humble sphere,
To deeds of saintlike charity inclined, Who from your cells of meditation dear,
Come forth to guide the weak, untutored mind,