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Habit.

The diminutive chain of habit is scarcely heavy enough to be felt, till it is too strong to be broken.-Dr. Johnson.

- I trust everything to habit, upon which, in all ages, the lawgiver, as well as the schoolmaster, has mainly placed his reliance; habit, which makes everything easy, and casts all difficulties upon a deviation from a wonted course. Make sobriety a habit, and intemperance will be hateful; make prudence a habit, and reckless profligacy will be as contrary to the child, grown or adult, as the most atrocious crimes to any. Give a child the habit of sacredly regarding truth; of carefully respecting the property of others; of scrupulously abstaining from all acts of improvidence which involve him in distress, and he will just as likely think of rushing into an element in which he cannot breathe, as of lying, or cheating, or stealing.-Lord Brougham.

Habit in a child, is at first like a spider's web; neglected, it becomes a thread or twine; next, a cord or rope; finally, a cable then who can break it?

Hand (The).

The hand,-what wondrous wisdom plann'd
This instrument, so near divine !

How impotent, without the hand,
Proud reason's light would shine!
Invention might her power apply,

And genius see the forms of heaven-
And firm resolve his strength might try,
But vain the will, the soul, the eye,
Unquarried would the marble lie,
The oak and cedar flout the sky,-

Had not the hand been given !—Mrs. Hale.

The instrument of instruments, the hand;
Courtesy's index; chamberlain to nature;
The body's soldier; the mouth's caterer;
Psyche's great secretary; the dumb's eloquence;
The blind man's cradle, and his forehead's buckler;
The minister of wrath, and friendship's sign.

How fair, how small, how white, and pure,
Its own most perfect miniature.

The baby-hand that is so wee,
And yet is all it is to be;
Unweeting what it has to do,
Yet to its destined purpose true.
The fingers' form, of varied length,
That join or vie their little strength;
The pigmy thumb, the onyx nail ;
The violet vein, so blue and pale;
The branching lines where gipsy eld
Had all the course of life beheld;
All-to its little finger's tip,

Of Nature's choicest workmanship,

Their task, their fate, we hardly guess,

But, oh, may it be happiness !-Coleridge.

Happiness.

The idea has been transmitted from generation to generation, that happiness is one large and beautiful precious stone, a single gem so rare, that all search after it is vain, all effort for it hopeless. It is not so. Happiness is a mosaic, composed of many smaller stones. Each taken apart and viewed singly may be of little value, but when all are grouped together, and judiciously combined and set, they form a pleasing and graceful whole-a costly jewel. Trample not under foot, then, the little pleasures which a gracious Providence scatters in the daily path, and which, in eager search after some great and exciting joy, we are apt to overlook.

He is happy whose circumstances suit his temper; but he is happier who can suit his temper to circumstances.

There is nothing purer than honesty; nothing sweeter than charity; nothing warmer than love; nothing brighter than virtue; and nothing more stedfast than faith. These, united in one mind, form the purest, the sweetest, the richest, the brightest, and most stedfast happiness. It's not in titles nor in rank;

It's not in wealth like London bank,
To purchase peace and rest;
It's not in makin' muckle mair;
It's not in books; its not in lear,
To make us truly blest :
If happiness have not her seat

And centre in the breast,

We may be wise, or rich, or great,

But never can be blest.-Burns.

The foundation of domestic happiness is faith in the virtue of woman; the foundation of political happiness is confidence in the integrity of man; the foundation of all happiness, temporal and eternal, is reliance on the goodness of God.-Landor.

Think of this, my good friend, and as you have kind affections to make some good girl happy, settle yourself in life while you are young, and lay up, by so doing, a stock of domestic happiness, against age or bodily decay. There are many good things in life, whatever satirists and misanthropes may say to the contrary; but probably the best of all, next to a conscience void of offence (without which, by the bye, they can hardly exist), are the quiet exercise and enjoyment of the social feelings, in which we are at once happy ourselves, and the cause of happiness to those who are dearest to us.Sir Walter Scott.

That state of life is most happy where superfluities are not required, and necessaries are not wanting.-Plutarch. A butterfly that roves from flower to flower in the vast garden of existence, and which is eagerly pursued by the multitude in the vain hope of obtaining the prize, yet it continually eludes their grasp.

If every one would but study to extract pleasure from their means of pleasure, however humble, and to be as happy as it is in their power to make themselves in their situation, without looking at other means of gratification which are not within their reach, all would experience a comfortable manhood, and learn from their own sensations, that every one may be in this agreeable condition. Every class of life may by this means be the builders of their own happiness here in a much greater degree than most believe, and we all make ourselves as joyous in a cottage as in a palace.—Sharon Turner.

How happy is he born and taught

That serveth not another's will;
Whose armour is his honest thought,

And simple truth his utmost skill!

Whose passions not his masters are,
Whose soul is still prepar'd for death:
Untied unto the world by care

Of public fame, or private breath!
Who envies none that chance doth raise,
Nor vice hath ever understood;
How deepest wounds are given by praise,
Nor rules of state, but rules of good!
Who hath his life from rumours freed,
Whose conscience is his strong retreat :
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make oppressors great!

Who God doth late and early pray
More of his grace than gifts to lend ;

And entertains the harmless day
With a religious book or friend!
This man is freed from servile hands,
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands,
And having nothing, yet hath all.
Sir Henry Wotton.

Hatred.

There is no little enemy. A man either hates with his whole heart, or he does not hate at all. Hating a little is a good deal like blowing up a powder-mill a little-it is a feat that cannot be done.

Hats.

The shape of a hat, and the mode of wearing it, give considerable insight into the heart and mind. He that cocks his hat (or cap) on one side, is a poltroon, assuming an air of bravery. He that wears it off his forehead is a gaby. He that wears it slouched over his eyes, and raised up behind, is a sailor. He that rams it down perpendicularly over his brows is a blunt, ill-natured fellow. He that walks with it in his hand is a coxcomb. The man that always wears a bran-new shining hat possesses the spirit of order—he is a man of method. He that wears a peaked hat, with a large brim and broad riband-in a word, he that wears a hat such as they are never worn, is a false-minded, conceited mannerist.

Health.

Shopkeepers are generally temperate in their diet. They injure health not by direct attacks, not by the introduction of injurious agents, but by withholding the pabulum of life-a due supply of that pure fluid which nature has designed as food for the constitution. Be it remembered that man subsists upon the air more than upon his meat and drink; but no one can exist for an hour without a copious supply of air. The atmosphere which shopkeepers breathe is contaminated and adulterated, and with its vital principles so diminished, that it cannot fully decarbonize the blood, nor fully excite the nervous system. Hence, shopkeepers are pale, dyspeptic, and subject to affections of the head. They often drag on a sickly existence, die before the proper end of human life, and leave a progeny like themselves.Thackrah.