6. Yet fear not, shrink not, thou, my child! 7. Doth not thy God behold thee still, 8. Know, hadst thou eagle-pinions, free Thou couldst not reach a spot where He 9. In the wide city's peopled towers, 'Mid the deep woodland's loneliest bowers, 10. Then fear not, though the angry sky And be with Him at last?-MRS. HEMANS. LESSON XV. A Suspicious Temper the Source of Misery to its Possessor." 1. As a suspicious spirit is the source of many crimes and calamities in the world, so it is the spring of certain misery to the person who indulges it. His friends will be few; and small will be his comfort in those whom he possesses. Believing others to be his enemies, he will of course make them such. Let his caution be ever so great, the asperity of his thoughts will often break out in his behaviour; and in return for suspecting and hating, he will incur suspicion and hatred. 2. Besides the external evils which he draws upon himself, arising from alienated friendship, broken confidence, and open enmity, the suspicious temper itself is one of the worst evils which any man can suffer. If "in all fear there is torment," how miserable must be his state, who, by living in perpetual jealousy, lives in perpetual dread! 3. Looking upon himself to be surrounded with spiés, ene mies, and designing men, he is a stranger to reliance and trust, He knows not to whom to open himself. He dresses his coun tenance in forced smiles, while his heart throbs within from apprehensions of secret treachery. Hence, fretfulness and illhumour, disgust at the world, and all the painful sensations of an irritated and imbittered mind. 4. So numerous and great are the evils arising from a suspicious disposition, that, of the two extremes, it is more eligible to expose ourselves to occasional disadvantage from thinking too well of others, than to suffer continual misery by thinking always ill of them. It is better to be sometimes imposed upon, than never to trust, Safety is purchased at too dear a rate, when, in order to secure it, we are obliged to be always clad in armour, and to live in perpetual hostility with our fellows. 5. This is, for the sake of living, to deprive ourselves of the comfort of life. The man of candour enjoys his situation, whatever it is, with cheerfulness and peace. Prudence directs his intercourse with the world; but no black suspicions haunt his hours of rest. Accustomed to view the characters of his neighbours in the most favourable light, he is like one who dwells amid those beautiful scenes of nature, on which the eye rests with pleasure. 6. Whereas the suspicious man, having his imagination filled with all the shocking forms of human falsehood, deceit, and treachery, resembles the traveller in the wilderness, who discerns no objects around him but such as are either dreary or terrible; caverns that open, serpents that hiss, and beasts of prey that howl-BLAIR, LESSON XVI, •Self-knowledge. 1. Ir we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged, Let us consider the difficulty, the advantages, and the means of forming a correct estimate of ourselves. The portions of our character, which it most concerns us to understand aright, are, the extent of our powers, and the motives of our conduct, But, on these subjects, every thing conspires to deceive us. 2. No man, in the first place, can come to the examination of himself with perfect impartiality, His wishes are all neces sarily engaged on his own side; and, though he may place the weights in the balance with perfect fairness and accuracy, he places them in scales unequally adjusted. He is, at once, the criminal, the accuser, the advocate, the witness, and the judge. 3. Another difficulty, which prevents our passing a correct judgement on our own characters, is, that we can always find excuses for ourselves, which no other person can suspect. The idea of possessing an excuse, which it would be improper to communicate to others, is consolatory beyond expression. 4. Frivolous as the apology may be, it appears satisfactory, because, while no one knows its existence, no one can dispute its value. From repeated failures in any undertaking, few men learn their own incapacity; because success depends upon such a concurrence of circumstances, minute as they are numerous, that it is much easier to lament the blameless omission of something, which would have ensured success, than to look full in the face our own deficiencies. 5. It is the same with the opinions we form of our moral worth. The motives, which co-operate in producing almost every action, are so various and almost imperceptible, that, in contemplating our conduct, we can select those that are honourable, and assign them that influence afterward, which they ought to have had before. By frequently defending, also, the purity of our motives, we learn, at last, to believe that they are precisely what they ought to be; and mistake the eloquence of self-apology for the animation of conscious integrity. 6. Another, and very essential cause of our ignorance of ourselves, is, that few men venture to inform us of our real character. We are flattered, even from our cradles. The caresses of parents, and the blandishments of friends, transmute us into idols. A man must buffet long with the world, ere he learns to estimate himself according to his real importance in society. He is obliged to unlearn much of what he has been told by those, who, in flattering him, have long been used to flatter themselves. 7. And when, at last, he learns to compare himself with others, to correct his false estimates, and to acquiesce in the rank which society assigns him, he is assisted, not by the kind admonitions of friends, not by the instructions of those who take an affectionate interest in his character; but he must gather it from the cold indifference of some, from the contempt and scorn of others; he must be taught it by the bitterness of disappointment, and the rudeness of superiority, or the smiles of exulting malice. 8. This leads us to the last difficulty which we shall men tion, as preventing our forming a correct estimate of our own characters. We fondly imagine, that no one can know us as well as we know ourselves; and that every man is interested to depreciate, even when he knows the worth of another. Hence, when reproved, we cannot admit, that we have acted amiss. 9. It is much more easy to conclude, that we have been misrepresented by envy, or misunderstood by prejudice, than to believe in our ignorance, incapacity, or guilt. Nothing, also, more directly tends to swell into extravagance a man's opinion of his moral or intellectual worth, than to find, that his innocence has, in any instance, been falsely accused, or his powers inadequately estimated. 10. In short, unless a person has been long accustomed to compare himself with others, to scrutinize the motives of his conduct, to meditate on the occurrences of his life, to listen to, nay, even to court the admonitions of the wise and good, and to hearken to the language of calumny itself, he may pass through life intimate with every heart but that which beats in his own bosom, a stranger in no mansion so much as his own breast.-BUCKMINSTER. 1. LESSON XVII. The Sleep of the Brave. How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, 2. By fairy hands their knell is rung, To dwell a weeping hermit there!-COLLINS. LESSON XVIII. Home. 1. WHERE burns the loved hearth brightest, 3. Does pure religion charm thee Think not she dwelleth only In temples built for prayer; At Home! dear home! |