THE brave do never shun the light,

Just are their thoughts, and open are their tempers;

Freely without disguise they love and hate;

Still are they found in the fair face of day,
And Heaven and men are judges of their actions.

ROWE.

If we reflect upon any one passion and disposition of mind, abstract from virtue, we shall soon see the disconnexion between that and true solid happiness. It is of the very essence, for instance, of envy to be uneasy and disquieted. Pride meets with provocations and disturbances upon almost every occasion. Covetousness is ever attended with solicitude and anxiety. Ambition has its disappointments to sour us, but never the good fortune to satisfy us; its appetite grows the keener by indulgence, and all we can gratify it with at present, serves but the more to inflame its insatiable desires.

FRANKLIN.

MORTALS that would follow me,
Love Virtue; she alone is free:
She can teach ye how to climb
Higher than the Sphery chime;
Or if Virtue feeble were,
Heaven itself would stoop to her.

MILTON.

"TWAS but an instant he restrain'd
That fiery barb, so sternly rein'd;
"Twas but a moment that he stood,
Then sped as if by death pursued ;
But in that instant, o'er his soul
Winters of Memory seem'd to roll,
And gather in that drop of time,
A life of pain, an age of crime.
O'er him who loves, or hates, or fears,
Such moment pours the grief of years :
What felt he then, at once opprest
By all that most distracts the breast?
That pause, which ponder'd o'er his fate,
Oh, who its dreary length shall date!
Though in Time's record nearly wrought,
It was Eternity to Thought!

For infinite as boundless space

The thought that Conscience must embrace,
Which in itself can comprehend

Woe without name, or hope or end.

BYRON.

THERE is a dignity of mind which, borrowing nothing from the proteus fashion of the day, rises gracefully in its own strength, and is suited to all times; because, proceeding from solid principles, it is not indebted to the changeful caprices of the passing hour. Surely that politeness which has its foundation in the heart, is the only genuine sort, permanent in its influence and of universal application.

To his dear descendants leave

The first, best gift that man can claim;
Better than pomp, by crowds adored,
Or gold immeasurably stored,-

A pure and spotless Name.

PINDAR.

AMBITION often puts men upon doing the meanest offices; so climbing is performed in the same posture with creeping.

SWIFT.

THE seraph Sympathy, from heaven descends,
And bright o'er earth his beaming forehead bends,
On man's cold heart celestial ardour flings,
And show'rs affection from his sparkling wings;
Rolls o'er the world his mild, benignant eye,
Hears the lone murmur, drinks the whisper'd sigh;
Lifts the closed latch of pale Misfortune's door,
Opes the clench'd hand of Avarice to the poor;
Unbars the prison, liberates the slave,
Sheds his soft sorrows o'er the untimely grave,
Points with uplifted hands to realms above,
And charms the world with universal love.

DARWIN.

TALENTS early soured by disappointment and calamity, like fruit in the shade, dwindle to premature decay, or ripen only into bitterness.

EVERY one stands as a blot in the annals of his country, who arrives at the Temple of Honour by any other way than through that of Virtue.

ADDISON.

TO MARY.

MARY, it is a lovely name,

Thrice hallowed in the rolls of fame,
Not for the blazonry of birth,

Nor honours springing from the earth;
But what Evangelists have told,

Of three who bore that name of old:
Mary, the mother of our Lord,
Mary, who sat to hear his word,
And Mary Magdalene, to whom
He came while weeping o'er his tomb.
These to that humble name supply
A glory which can never die,-
Mary! my prayer for you shall be,

May you in pious love be all the three.

MONTGOMERY.

"its own

POETRY, says COLERIDGE has been to me, exceeding great reward;" it has soothed my afflictions; it has multiplied and refined my enjoyments; it has endeared solitude; and it has given me the habit of wishing to discover the good and the beautiful, in all that meets and surrounds me.

THE first impression produced on the enthusiast, when confronted at once with the bustling world, is one of disappointment. He finds of how little comparative avail are those high intellectual endowments on which he had prided himself,-how the quiet judgment, the resolute spirit, and the cheerful temperament, are worth more in the affairs of this life than all the qualities which constitute poets and philosophers. If he can either acquire these faculties, or acquiesce in the position for which his own very different accomplishments fit him, it is well. If he can do neither, the irritation thus produced at once frets his temper, and causes his mind to turn inward,-to find greater pleasure in reflecting on its own peculiarities, and reading over and over again the favourite volume of its own imaginary autobiography, than in those healthier employments which a less pampered understanding would have found out of itself. Vanity is of two very distinct sorts. There is the vanity of temperament, buoyant, elastic, irrepressible, excited by success, but scarcely depressed by failure, which is a happy quality in itself, and may make its possessor occasionally ludicrous, but never disturbs his sleep or digestion. There is the vanity of genius, and of dispositions allied to genius, which is frequently found combined with a strong and morbid sense of deficiencies, which is constantly either moping or irritable, unhappy at the neglect of the world, and yet ever whispering to itself that the