considered merely in themselves, are small in value from their transitory duration, and the very precarious tenure by which they are held. For these reasons also, their possessors are subject to a class of fears and vexations, to which the humble poor are total strangers. Moral considerations, it is true, impart a considerable value to these gifts of Providence: they confer an important ability to glorify God, and benefit mankind, as well also as of cultivating and exercising a kind and benevolent disposition. But then, the privation of these things may be improved to moral purposes, perhaps equally important.

3. Whatever a man may possess, whether little or much, he has more than he is justly entitled to. No man has any claim upon God even for existence, much less for a rational and immortal existence-an existence, upon the whole, "crowned with loving-kindness and tender mercies."

4. Maukind are sinners. They have committed offences against God, which are not merely deserving of a few temporal inconveniences, but of eternal damnation. The last two considerations strike at the root of discontent, which grounds itself on the presumption, that our blessings are beneath our comparative deservings.

5. The pleasures of piety, and the road to everlasting bliss, are equally open to all; but this is the principal source of human happiness,-all other sources, compared with this, are paltry.

6. The privations of life, when sanctified or improved, are highly friendly to our spiritual interests: they promote a spirit of dependence, humility, submission, and patience, which doubtless qualify us in a very high degree for the happiness of the celestial state. Hence, afflictions are like medicines; unpalatable indeed, but needful to our distempered souls.

7. Lastly, God has declared, that "all things work together for good to them that love God," which declaration amounts to a promise that he will ultimately make every obedient soul as happy as his nature is capable of being made, and that all the events and circumstances of his life, whether painful or pleasant, shall be so adjusted and overruled as to be made to contribute to this end. Now it is evident, that the mind which is deeply imbued with these sentiments, must not only be incapable of discontent, but it must feel that cheerful and adoring gratitude to God, which is the very opposite of murmuring; it will be able to "glory in tribulation," and "have learned in whatsoever state it is in, therewith to be content." It is equally evident

likewise, that discontent must be an incurable distemper of irreligious minds.

In our enumeration of the ingredients of happiness as they exist in ourselves, it would be improper to omit bodily health; since on this, all the happiness which may be called physical, depends. Those therefore who sacrifice their health for the sake of gain, or honour, or any other temporal consideration, commit a fatal mistake in their pursuit of happiness. No sacrifice can be too great to preserve health, which does not imply a violation of moral principle.

Now it must be observed, that as bodily health cannot ordinarily be preserved without some pains and self-denial, neither can virtuous habits (which constitute moral health) be established and supported without pains and self-denial of a much severer description; consequently the pleasures of the most virtuous are in this world mixed and imperfect. Still, all the advantage lies with those who take the most pains: vigilant and persevering assiduity is, confessedly, against the stream of nature; but by this means only can good habits be firmly established; and when they are thus esta blished, they may be upheld with comparative ease; and the cultivation of the heart, which at first was difficult, becomes finally delightful,

Having finished what I wished to say on the nature of human happiness as it depends upon or exists in, ourselves, I shall next view it as it is derived from external causes. On a subject, so extensive as this, only leading particulars can be noticed.

1. An absent or distant good may be a source of pleasure, by means of imagination and hope. This may be called the pleasure of anticipation, when there is a hope of attainment, otherwise it is merely the pleasure of imagination. The imagi nation is that power of the mind by which it forms ideas of absent, or unreal objects : it is a sort of internal vision, which wanders over an ideal world, of which the various objects often appear marked with a character so impressive and lively as to bear the most imposing resemblance to reality, and with which the mind can hold a co respondence fraught with substantial pain or pleasure. The fancy is not a creative, but a combining faculty; for all the original materials on which it operates, are amongst the realities of nature. Thus I might form an idea of a beautiful country, or animal, which has no existence, but my previous knowledge of the general properties of animal and landscape beauty, has enabled me to form the conception. Now, thou

an ungoverned and disordered fancy is to some people a source of inexpressible torment, yet, that it is upon the whole a considerable addition to human happiness, admits of no doubt. Destitute of imagination, we should be doomed to drag through thousands of hours, a prey to the most oppressive dulness. How tedious would be the journeys or voyages of the traveller, if he could form no idea of the place to which he is going; but by means of this wonderful facuity, he is already enjoying the novel, grand, and beautiful scenery of the places of his intended visit. By imagination, the lover can taste the pleasure which results from an actual intercourse with the object of his affections. And the imagination of the Christian can paint the happiness of the heavenly world, in colours more bright and beautiful than language can express. A proof that the mere exercise of the imagination, when the prospect of attainment is out of the question, may be made a source of exquisite delight, every well-executed novel affords,-this is at once an evidence of the astonishing powers of the imagination, and of its capability of yielding pleasure.

2. Akin to the last-mentioned pleasure, is the pleasure of industry, or the exercise of the faculties for the attainment of what we think desirable; for still our good is only in prospect, not actually possessed. The following remarks of Dr. Paley comprise all that I wish, and more than I am able, to say on this subject:

"It seems to be true, that no plenitude of present gratification can make the possessor happy for a continuance, unless he have something in reserve,--something to hope for, and look forward to. This I conclude to be the case, from comparing the alacrity and spirits of men who are engaged in any pursuit which interests them, with the dejection and ennui of almost all, who are either born to so much that they want nothing more, or who have used up their satisfactions too soon, and drained the sources of them."

It is this intolerable vacuity of mind which carries the rich and great to the horsecourse and the gaming table, and often engages them in contests and pursuits, of which the success bears no proportion to the solicitude and expense with which it is sought. The doctrine delivered under this head may be readily admitted, but how to provide ourselves with a succession of pleasurable engagements, is the difficulty. This requires two things; judgment in the choice of ends adapted to our opportunities, and a command of imagination, so as to be able,

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when the judgment has made choice of an end, to transfer a pleasure to the means of obtaining it. Hence those pleasures are most valuable, not which are most exquisite in the fruition, but which are most productive of engagement and activity in the pursuit. A man who is in earnest in his endeavours after the happiness of a future state, has, in this respect, an advantage over all the world; for he has constantly before his eyes an object of supreme importance, productive of perpetual engagement and activity, and of which the pursuit (which can be said of no other pursuit besides) lasts him to his life's end.. Yet even he must have many ends besides the fur end; but then they will conduct to that, be subordinate, and in some way or other, capable of being referred to that, and derive their satisfaction, or an addition of satisfaction, from that.

Engagement is every thing; the more significant, however, our engagements are, the better; such as the planning of laws, institutions, manufactures, charities, improvements, public works; and the endeavouring, by our interest, address, solicitations, and activity, to carry them into effect; or upon a smaller scale, procuring of a maintenance and fortune for our families, by a course of industry and application to our calling, which forms and gives motion to the common occupations of life; training up a child, prosecuting a scheme for his future establishment, making ourselves masters of a language or a science, improving or managing an estate, labouring after a piece of preferment; and lastly, any engagement which is innocent, is better than none; as the writing of a book, the building of a house, the laying out of a garden, the digging of a fishpond-even the raising up of a cucumber or a tulip.

Whilst our minds are taken up with the objects or business before us, we are commonly happy, whatever the object or business be; when the mind is absent, and the thoughts are wandering to something else than what is passing in the place in which we are, we are often miserable.

3. The pleasures of sense claim to be considered as a part of human happiness. As the all-wise Author of our being, has given us a body with various senses and members, and has surrounded us with objects respectively adapted to their gratification, it is not our business to despise these pleasures, but to enjoy them with moderation and thankfulness; for, "meats God hath created to be received with thanksgiving, of them which believe and know the truth. For every creature of God is

good, and nothing to be refused, if it be received with thanksgiving; for it is sanctified by the word of God and prayer." In this class we must rank the more refined pleasures of music, painting, architecture, &c. concerning the use of which similar remarks are applicable.

Intellectual pleasure must next be considered: this results from the exercise of the understanding and the acquisition of knowledge. The thirst for knowledge is natural to all men. It is indeed allowed, that a preposterous education may pervert, and a defective one may impair, this noble instinct. And accordingly in some people it seems almost annihilated, and in others it does not discover itself, except in the itch for the marvels of romance, or the trivial details of the newspaper; but in every mind that is not thus vitiated or benumbed, there exists an intense desire for knowledge, to whom the pursuit and acquisition of which, fail not to yield real pleasure. We feel a secret gratification on the acquirement of a new idea, because we are conscious such an acquisition has added something to the real dignity of our nature, enlarged our intellectual possessions, improved the powers of our mind, and given to the fancy a wider range. Our progress in knowledge continually gratifies our passion for novelty, gives us new and interesting views of the beauty and harmony of truth, astonishes us with the vast, surprises with the curious, and charms with the beautiful, in the phenomena of nature. It illustrates the grandeur of the Divine character, and the striking and endless varieties of the human. In a word, the mind is elevated, enriched, and delighted, by the light of truth, as the eye is cheered by the light of the sun; and feels as much pleasure in surveying its intellectual world, as the eye does in gazing on the beautiful scenery of nature. Knowledge is desirable, too, because it fits us for, and introduces to, the society of the learned and valuable part of the community, and opens the door to wealth and honour.

5. Friendship, or the reciprocal attachment of kindred minds, is another source of human happiness. The pleasure of friendship seems to be tasted by the brute creation in a low degree. The strong affection which some of the feathered race have been observed to manifest towards their mates, is, no doubt, to them, a source of exquisite delight; and, not to notice the attachment of animals towards their young, we may advert to the obvious circumstance, that when two animals have been associated together for a length of time, a mutual

attachment is almost invariably observed to grow out of their companionship, so that, in the event of a separation, the parties discover symptoms of extreme uneasiness. But intelligent beings are susceptible of a friendship infinitely more noble than that of animals, and one, therefore, which originates pleasures unspeakably more refined.

Congeniality is the basis of friendship; for it is obvious, that between persons, whose views, habits, and circumstances, are perfectly dissimilar, there can be no approach to friendship. Between such persons there can be scarcely any agreeable interchange of sentiments, and no fellowship of interests, or communion of feelings. In this case, therefore, the very elements of friendship are wanting. The same general laws appear to govern the moral and intellectual world, as the natural: in the former, as well as the latter, things of the like kind possess mutual attractions, while those that are heterogeneous are mutually repulsive. "Can two walk together, except they be agreed ?"

(To be concluded in our next.)

POETRY.

(For the Imperial Magazine.) REFLECTIONS UPON HANNAH'S PRAYER 1 Samuel, Chapter I. 9 to 28 verse. LORD! how inscrutable are all thy ways, And how inadequate all human praise: Devoid of hope the victim of despair, Thy touch can heal, by love and mental prayer. All intellect obeys thy sovereign power, Worms of a day, and phantoms of an hour; Mankind were made to wonder and adore. God ne'er denied to one of human race, [grace. Who sought by faith and prayer, his heavenly The whole creation lives upon his power, From the bright seraph to the humble flowerHe wings an angel from the realms of day, And bids the skylark tune his matin lay; He whirls the comet in his endless round, Or bids the falling sparrow press the ground God never had created but to bless! He fills with joy illimitable space! To secret sighs, he'll lend a pitying ear, And humble moans, he'll condescend to hear; This omnipresent Lord-" as kind as just, Knowing our frame, remembers man is dust. His Spirit, ever brooding o'er our mind, Sees the first wish to better hopes inclin'd; Marks the young dawn of every virtuous aim, And fans the smoking flax into a flame. His ears are open to the softest cry, His grace descends to meet the lifted eye; He reads the language of a silent tear, And sighs are incense from a heart sincere. Such are the vows, the sacrifice I give; Accept the vow, and bid thy suppliant live; From each terrestrial bondage set me free; Still every wish that centers not in Thee; Bid my fond hopes, my vain disquiets, cease, And point my path to everlasting peace."

Barbauld.

The graceful Mercy's emblem, Hannah, pray'd In Eli's presence for Jehovah's aid;

He mark'd her trembling lips-and thought the Had given the fair, exhilarating wine: [vi

Jehovah's gracious Spirit, taught the fair
The sacred eloquence of mental prayer!
Her lovely cheeks, in bitterness of soul,
Felt the warm tears in quick succession toll.
She asked Jehovah for his healing grace--
She moved the Hand that moves the universe!
Oh, Lord of hosts! do thou remember me,
And let thine handmaid now receive from Thee
One perfect male-one well-formed lovely boy,
Who to thy praise shall all his powers employ:
I vow, in faith, depending on Thy word,
His life shall be devoted to the Lord.
Eli then kindly answered-Go in peace,
Thou favourite daughter of celestial grace,
May our Jehovah grant thee thy request,
And be thy seed, and thou, for ever blest. fmorn,
Quick rolled the spheres, and brought the happy
And Samuel, tire Ask'd of God,' was born:
He gave Elkanah and his dear-loved wife,
Those sacred joys that bless connubial life;
And from his natal to his mortal hour,
He had the aid of Omnipresent power:
His fame to latest ages shall extend,
Rever'd and blest his name, till time shall end.

The gracious Hannah, (prais'd the Eternal One) To God's own house at Shiloh, brought her Son: There heaven and earth beheld her sacritice, Accepted by the Power that built the skies. Blest Hannah said to Eli-Oh! my lord,

The God of heaven and earth my prayer hath heard,

Sure as thy soul, my lord, is now alive,

Sure as thy name shall nature's wreck survive,
I am the woman who stood by thee here,

Here did I weep---here send to heaven my prayer;
With tears suffused, for this dear child I prayed,
In humble faith, I sought Jehovah's aid.
Let all the sex my confidence regard,

This boy I ask'd--this boy is from the Lord---'
And from this moment to his final hour,
I here resign him to Jehovah's power;

A mother's heart now lends him to the Lord:
And future ages shall revere his word.

Lancaster, March 21, 1828.

W. HADWEN.

THE BEREAVEMENT.

By RICHARD HOWITT.

I have just witnessed a sorrowful separation, sanctioned by laws, human, not divine,-a Child taken from his Mother at the age of Seven, by the Parish Overseer.

""TWERE hard at any time to part,

But it is doubly painful now--

With health like mine-.-'twill break my heart,
You must a longer time allow."

'Come, come! no parley, he must go,
The horse is here---I dare not wait:
You know the squire---or ought to know;
He waits us at the mile-end gate.'

What contrast in the tones I heard!
His, stern as hunters of the wild;
And then, the accents she preferred
Were as an angel's, sweet and mild:
Such angels were, could spirits feel
The griefs her moving words reveal.

They moved not him--his heart was proof
To all a mother's love could say :---
He and the boy have left her roof,
Have mounted, and are on their way;
And the poor mother from her door
Looks, till her boy is seen no more.
Entranced with what I heard and saw,
Few paces from the door I stirred,---
I could not from the place withdraw
Till I that mother's tale had heard;
And she, with tears, and frequent pause,
Of that sad scene reveal'd the cause.

"My boy this day is seven years old→→
Would he were not, he then were here!
He whom you saw, of aspect cold,
Had claim'd him by a law severe.
Compell'd from all I love to part,
Maternal feelings will rebel:
What are the tumults of my heart,
The Searcher of all hearts' can tell!
Though reit of all the world beside,
With him my lot was far from drear;
E'en when my widowed mother died,
His converse soothed my grief severe.
"Tis past-and now, with no one near
To whom I may my sorrows own;
To this a mother's added fear,
How shall I doubly feel alone?

"Too well his sire I knew before,
Yet thought not of this cruel deed;
That he would seek to torture more
The heart he once had caused to bleed :
By him, in unsuspicious youth,
Betrayed where I confided most,
And taught to find his vows of truth
Were nothing, and my shame his boast.
From worth and virtuous feelings free,
In wealth and rank securely strong,
He deem'd, perchance, a thing like me
Too low to feel or suffer wrong.
Yet, by his heartless treason taught,
His added suit in scorn I held;

I scorn'd to live the life he sought,
Although my poverty rebell'd.

Yes! thence I spurn'd his offers base-
Refused again his face to see;
Humbled by him, and in disgrace,
Such scene could bring but pain to me.

"Six years in patient toil I wrought,
To live by my own earnings proud,
Nor from the law assistance sought,
To gain the sum which it allow'd;
But when my mother's health declined,
And on her dying-bed she lay,
My aid was wanted, where she pined,
I could not leave her night or day:
My work was left,-I was compell'd
To claim the pittance long withheld.

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m

"I watch'd my mother day and night,
Nor felt, until the spirit pure
Of her, my being's life and light,
Ceased earthly suffering to endure,
Nor deem'd my own health insecure;
Absorb'd from my own private woes,
To calm and bless her awful close.
But when she died, how was I left,
Of health, and strength, and solace reft!
I could not join the careless train,
Which bore the dear remains away;
Nor pay the rites, which I so fain
Would with a daughter's duty pay:
And for the year gone by I lay,
The prey of sickness, and the pride
Which loathed to take what hate supplied.

"Oh! cold is parish charity!

"Twas hard for them -'twas hard for me "Twas hard to see their hands unlockCold waters trickling from the rock! Wrung out from famine-seem'd that aid, Although the squire the sum repaid!

"When in that solitary state, Left to the kindness of the mean, If aught my grief could aggravate, Or make its cutting edge more keen; "Twas when his minions base would raise, Before me, my betrayer's praise; "Twas when the village-bells told wide, In mirth-another was his bride; "Twas when at eve, that bride and he Would unconcern'dly pass my door; And she would smile, perhaps to see Faces she blest amongst the poor. She smiled-perchance she did not know The fate of her he humbled so!

"And these were griefs: but now deprived Of him for whom they all were borne,

I vainly seem to have survived

Life's heaviest ills-its bitterest scorn!
Now, even now, that sire severe
Awaits, not distant, to convey
My boy, claim'd by the overseer,
Far from his home and me away;
Borne to some public school, to be
Train'd for the battle-field, or sea.
Perhaps he fear'd his bride might trace
The father's features in that face,

And thence might luckless chance unfold
A tale-he wish'd not to be told !"

ON THE MORNING.

"Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds." Millon.

THE wakeful lark alone has left her nest, And, mounting to salute the opening day In purest air, with dew-bespangled breast, She seems to call the husbandman away To his laborious toil, from peaceful rest,

Her fellow-songsters to their native lay:
While twilight, gently breaking on the sight,
Dispels the darkness which pervades the night,
And warns us of th' approach of Sol's more vivid
light.

O sweetest bird, companion of the dawn,
May I awake at thy all-cheerful voice,

Yea, rise, and as I cross the dewy lawn

Of some celestial hymn may I make choice,
To adore and praise that Being-God alone,
Who makes the morn and evening shades
rejoice;

By whose almighty pow'r th' unwearied sun
Does, day and night, his mighty circle run.

How sweet, how charming, 'tis abroad to rove
At this delightful, this fair" hour of prime,"
To hear the enchanting music of the grove,
Or up yon gently rising hill to climb!
To see Aurora smiling from above,
And view the landscape-beautiful-sublime!
Her brightest, fairest form now nature wears,
And deck'd in richest beauty she appears.

RECOLLECTIONS.

To meet around the merry hearth,
To join the ring of social mirth,
When winter glooms prevail;
"Tis then we love the cheering blaze,
Whilst list'ning to some legend lays,
Or some lov'd fairy-tale.

Oh! for the cups that never cloy,
The kettle heard to sing for joy,
The loud, the hissing urn;
These do our cheerful evenings greet,
They hush the pelting storm so sweet,
We hail their glad return!

Oh! for the literary news,
That we're so eager to peruse;
Gazette-Imperial-both;

The breathless search, 'twixt hope and fear, To see if aught should then appear

That we, so prized in troth.

The thrill of gladness, if perchance
We should descry, with hasty glance,
Our own poetic' there;

Not Solyman upon his throne
Could half that secret pleasure own,
That we delighted share.

But oh the disappointment-gloom,
Should we behold our hapless doom,

By critics' sadly maul'd;
But, what is worse to poet's pride,
Not even notic'd-not denied,

Or even blockhead' called.

Oh for the long-expectant news,
The monthly round of Mags, Reviews,
Devouring each in turn,

Those lovely'gems' that close the year;
Forget-me-nots'-that then appear,
When out, how glad to learn!

Oh! for the lov'd inspection,-when
The grace of art-the poet's pen,
Meet our enraptur'd eyes;
Each takes his own accustom'd seat,
T' enjoy alone so great a treat,
And hug the darling prize!

The curtains drawn, the shutters fast,
Secure against the howling blast,

We welcome evening in ;'
How dear is then the assembled group,
Our spirits then no longer droop,
While all is joy within.

Who does not love the winter night,
Season of intimate delight,

December's cheerful eve;

The talk of Christmas yet to come,
With its attendant, happy home,'
That smiles not to deceive.

beam :

The mellow beam which chequers the grim dell.
Half sunshine and half shade! thy happy huts,
Thy hedges, gemm'd with blooms of pink and blue,
Thy old dark church, which scowls upon the view,
Proud in its ruins! and the yew that shuts
Its entrance from the eye;-grieved should I be,
Luxuriant scene! to say farewell to thee!
For thou resemblest Poussin's works of light,
And Terrier's fine creations!-mighty must
That pencil be which glows sublimely bright,
When its proud fashioners are tomb'd in dust!
Deal.
G. CARTER,

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