ing as a sort of simile or parable. The central station on the mountain may be resembled to middle life. With what different feelings is this regarded by those who bask in the sunshine of opulence, and those who shrink under the cold blasts of penury!

"Suppose the wealthy duke, our neighbour, were suddenly obliged to descend to our level, and live as we do-to part with all his carriages, sell his coachhorses and hunters, quit his noble seat with its fine park and gardens, dismiss all his train of servants except two or three, and take a house like ours.

What a dreadful fall would it seem to him! how wretched would it probably make him, and how much would he be pitied by the world!

"On the other hand, suppose the labourer who lives in the next cottage were unexpectedly to fall heir to an estate of a few hundreds a year, and in consequence to get around him all the comforts and conveniences that we possess a commodious house to inhabit, good clothes to wear, plenty of wholesome food and firing, servants to do all the drudgery of the family, and the like;-how all his acquaintance would congratulate him, and what a paradise would he seem to himself to be got into! Yet he, and the duke, and ourselves, are equally men, made liable by nature to the same desires and necessities, and perhaps all equally strong in constitution, and equally capable of supporting hardships. Is not this fully as wonderful a difference in feeling as that on crossing the Andes ?"

“Indeed it is," said William.

"And the cause of it must be exactly the same-the influence of habit."

"I think so."

"Of what importance, then, must it be towards a happy life, to regulate our habits so that in the possible changes of this world we may be more likely to be gainers than losers!"

"But how can this be done? Would it be right for the duke to live like us, or us like the labourer ?"

"Certainly not. But to apply the case to persons of our middle condition, I would have us use our advantages in so frugal a manner, as to make them as little as possible essential to our happiness, should fortune sink us to a lower station. For as to the chance of rising to a higher, there is no need to prepare our habits for that we should readily enough accommodate our feelings to such a change. To be pleased and satisfied with simple food, to accustom ourselves not to shrink from the inclemencies of the seasons, to avoid indolence, and take delight in some useful employment of the mind or body, to do as much as we can for ourselves, and not expect to be waited upon on every small occasion-these are the habits which will make us in some measure independent of fortune, and secure us a moderate degree of enjoyment under every change short of absolute want. I will tell you a story to this purpose.

"A London merchant had two sons, James and Richard. James from a boy accustomed himself to every indulgence in his power, and when he grew up was quite a fine gentleman. He dressed expensively, frequented public diversions, kept his hunter at a livery stable, and was a member of several convivial clubs. At home, it was almost a footman's sole business to wait on him. He would have thought it greatly beneath him to buckle or tie his own shoes'; to pull on his boots, without assistance; and if he wanted anything at the other end of the room, he would ring the bell, and bring a servant up two pair of stairs, rather than rise from his chair to fetch it. He did a little business in the counting-house on forenoons, but devoted all his time after dinner to indolence and amusement.

"Richard was a very different character. He was plain in his appearance, and domestic in his way of life. He gave as little trouble as possible, and would have been ashamed to ask assistance in doing what he could easily do for himself. He was assiduous in busi

ness, and employed his leisure hours chiefly in reading and acquiring useful knowledge.

"Both were still young and unsettled when their father died, leaving behind him very little property. As the young men had not capital sufficient to follow the same line of mercantile business in which he had been engaged, they were obliged to look out for a new plan of maintenance; and a great reduction of expense was the first thing requisite. This was a severe stroke to James, who found himself at once cut off from all the pleasures and indulgences to which he was so habituated, that he thought life of no value without them. He grew melancholy and dejected, hazarded all his little property in lottery tickets, and was quite beggared. Still unable to think of retrieving himself by industry and frugality, he accepted a commission in a newly-raised regiment ordered for the West Indies, where, soon after his arrival, he caught a fever and died.

“Richard, in the mean time, whose comforts were little impaired by this change of situation, preserved his cheerfulness, and found no difficulty in accommodating himself to his fortune. He engaged himself as clerk in a house his father had been connected with, and lived as frugally as possible upon his salary. It furnished him with decent board, lodging, and clothing, which was all he required, and his hours of leisure were nearly as many as before. A book or a sober friend always sufficed to procure him an agreeable evening. He gradually rose in the confidence of his employers, who increased from time to time his salary and emoluments. Every increase was a source of gratification to him, because he was able to enjoy pleasures which, however, habit had not made necessary to his comfort. In process of time he was enabled to settle for himself, and passed through life in the enjoyment of that modest competence which best suited his disposition."

THE COST OF A WAR.

"You may remember, Oswald," said Mr. B. to his son, "that I gave you some time ago a notion of the price of a victory to the poor souls engaged in it."

"I shall not soon forget it, I assure you, sir," replied Oswald.

Father. Very well. I mean now to give you some idea of the cost of a war to the people among whom it is carried on. This may serve to abate something of the admiration with which historians are apt to inspire us for great warriors and conquerors. You have heard, I doubt not, of Louis the Fourteenth, King of France?

Os. O yes!

F. He was entitled by his subjects Louis le Grand, and was compared by them to the Alexanders and Cæsars of antiquity; and with some justice as to the extent of his power, and the use he made of it. He was the most potent prince of his time; commanded mighty and victorious armies, and enlarged the limits of his hereditary dominions. Louis was not naturally a hard-hearted man; but having been taught from his cradle that everything ought to give way to the interests of his glory, and that this glory consisted in domineering over his neighbours, and making conquests, he grew to be insensible to all the miseries brought on his own and other people in pursuit of what he thought this noble design. Moreover, he was plunged in dissolute pleasures, and the delights of pomp and splendour from his youth; and he was ever surrounded by a tribe of abject flatterers, who made him believe that he had a full right in all cases to do as he pleased. Conquest abroad and pleasure at home were therefore the chief business of his life.

One evening, his minister, Louvois, came to him and said, "Sire, it is absolutely necessary to make a desert of the Palatinate."

This is a country in Germany, on the banks of the Rhine, one of the most populous and best cultivated districts in that empire, filled with towns and villages, and industrious inhabitants.

"I should be sorry to do it," replied the King, "for you know how much odium was cast upon us throughout Europe when a part of it was laid waste some time ago, under Marshal Turenne."

"It cannot be helped, sire," returned Louvois. "All the damage he did has been repaired, and the country is as flourishing as ever. If we leave it in its present state, it will afford quarters to your Majesty's enemies, and endanger your conquests. It must be entirely ruined the good of the service will not permit it to be otherwise."

66

Well, then," answered Louis, "if it must be so, you are to give orders accordingly." So saying, he left the cabinet, and went to assist at a magnificent festival given in honour of his favourite mistress by a prince of the blood.

The pitiless Louvois lost no time; but despatched a courier that very night, with positive orders to the French generals in the Palatinate to carry fire and desolation through the whole country-not to leave a house or a tree standing-and to expel all the inhabitants.

It was the midst of a rigorous winter.

Os. Oh, horrible! But surely the generals would not obey such orders?

F. What! a general disobey the commands of his sovereign! that would be contrary to every maxim of the trade. Right and wrong are no considerations to a military man. He is only to do as he is bidden. The French generals who were upon the spot, and must see with their own eyes all that was done, probably felt somewhat like men on the occasion; but the sacrifice to their duty as soldiers was so much the greater. The commands were peremptory, and they were obeyed to a tittle. Towns and villages were