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in the days of our distress, what a privilege it is! Well said the sacred book, Trust in the Lord; at all times trust in the Lord.' When every other support fails us, when the fountains of worldly comfort are dried up, let us then seek those living waters, which flow from the throne of God. It is only from the belief of the goodness and wisdom of a Supreme Being, that our calamities can be borne in that manner which becomes a man. wisdom is here of little use; for, in proportion as it bestows comfort, it represses feeling, without which we may cease to be hurt by calamity, but we shall also cease to enjoy happiness. I will not bid you be insensible, my friends; I cannot, I cannot if I would." His tears flowed afresh. "I feel too much myself, and I am not ashamed of my feelings; but therefore may I the more willingly be heard; therefore have I prayed God to give me strength to speak to you; to direct you to him, not with empty words, but with these tears; not from speculation, but from experience, that, while you see me suffer, you may know my consolation.

"You behold the mourner of his only child, the last earthly stay and blessing of his declining years! Such a child too! It becomes not me to speak of her virtues; yet it is but gratitude to mention them, because they were exerted toward myself. Not many days ago, you saw her young, beautiful, virtuous, and happy: ye, who are parents, will judge of my felicity then; ye will judge of my affliction now. But I look toward him who struck me; I see the hand of a father, amid the chastening of my God. Oh! could I make you feel what it is to pour out the heart, when it is pressed down with many sorrows; to pour it out with confidence to him, in whose hands are life and death, on whose power waits all that the first enjoys, and in contemplation of whom disappears all that the last can inflict for we are not as those, who die without hope, we

know that our Redeemer liveth; that we shall live with him, with our friends his servants, in that blessed land where sorrow is unknown, and happiness is endless as it is perfect. Go, then, mourn not for me; I have not lost my child but a little while, and we shall meet again, never to be separated. But ye are all my children. Would ye that I should grieve without comfort? So live as she lived, that, when your death cometh, it may be the death of the righteous, and your latter end be like his."

Such was the exhortation of La Roche: his audience answered it with their tears. The good old man dried up his at the altar of the Lord; his countenance had lost it's sadness, and assumed the glow of faith and hope. Mr. followed him into his house. The inspiration of the pulpit was past at the sight of him, the scenes they had last met in rushed again on his mind. La Roche threw his arms round his neck, and watered it with his tears. The other was equally affected. They went together in silence into the parlour, where the evening service was wont to be performed. The curtains of the organ were open, La Roche started back at the sight, -“ Oh! my friend!" said he, and his tears burst forth again. Mr. recollected himself; he stepped forward, and drew the curtains close the old man wiped off his tears, and, taking his friend's hand, "You see my weakness," said he, " 'tis the weakness of humanity, but my comfort is not therefore lost."" I heard you," said the other, "in the pulpit ; · I rejoice that such consolation is yours."-" It is, my friend," said he," and I trust I shall ever hold it fast; if there are any who doubt our faith, let them think of what importance religion is to calamity, and forbear to weaken it's force; if they cannot restore our happiness, let them not take away the solace of our afliction." MIRROR.

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had now

THE FOLLY OF DISPUTING UPON TRIFLES.

ONE morning, Griselda and her husband were present, while Emma was busy, showing some poor children how to plait straws for hats.

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'Next summer," my dear, "when we are settled at home, I hope you will encourage some manufacture of this kind among the children of our tenants," said Mr. Bolingbroke to his lady.

"I have no genius for teaching manufactures of this sort," replied Mrs. Bolingbroke, scornfully.

Her husband urged the matter no farther. A few minutes afterward, he drew out a straw from a bundle, which one of the children held.

"This is a fine straw," said he, carelessly.

"Fine straw!" cried Mrs. Bolingbroke:

very coarse.

66 no, that is

This," continued she, pulling one from an

other bundle, this is a fine straw, if you please."

"I think mine is the finest," said Mr. Bolingbroke. "Then you must be blind, Mr Bolingbroke," cried the lady, eagerly comparing them.

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Well, my dear," said he, laughing, pute about straws,"

66 we will not dis

"No indeed," said she, "but I observe, whenever you know you are in the wrong. Mr. Bolingbroke, you say we will not dispute, my dear: now pray look at these straws, Mrs. Granby, you that have eyes, which is the finest?"

"I will draw lots," said Emma, taking one playfully from Mrs. Bolingbroke ; "for it seems to me, that there is little or no differeuce between them."

"No difference? O my dear Emma!" said Mrs. Bolingbroke.

"My dear Criselda," cried her husband, taking the other straw from her, and blowing it away, "indeed it is not worth disputing about: this is too childish."

"Childish?" repeated she, looking after the straw, as it floated down the wind; "I see nothing childish in being in the right: your raising your voice in that manner never convinces me. Jupiter is always in the wrong, you know, when he has recourse to his thunder."

"Thunder! my dear Griselda! about a straw; well! when women are determined to dispute, it is wonderful how ingenious they are in finding subjects. I give you joy, my dear, of having attained the perfection of the art: you can now literally dispute about straws."

MISS EDGEWORTH.

COMPARISON OF WATCHES.

WHEN Griselda thought that her husband had long enough enjoyed his new existence, and that there was danger of his forgetting the taste of sorrow, she changed her tone. One day, when he had not returned home exactly at the appointed minute, she received him with a frown; such as would have made even Mars himself recoil, if Mars could have beheld such a frown upon the brow of his Venus.

"Dinner has been kept waiting for you this hour, my dear."

"I am very sorry for it: but why did you wa it, my dear? I am really very sorry I am so late, but (looking at his watch) it is only half past six by me."

"It is seven by me."

They presented their watches to each other, he, in an apologetical, she, in a reproachful attitude.

"I rather think you are too fast, my dear," said the gentleman.

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I am very sure you are too slow, my dear," said the lady.

"My watch never loses a minute in the four and twenty hours," said he.

"Nor mine a second," said she.

"I have reason to believe I am right, my love," said the husband, mildly.

"Reason!" exclaimed the wife, astonished.

"What reason can you possibly have to believe you are right, when I tell you, I am morally certain you are wrong, my love."

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My only reason for doubting it is, that I set my watch by the sun to day."

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"The sun must be wrong, then," cried the lady, hastily"You need not laugh; for I know what I am saying the variation, the declination, must be allowed for in computing it with the clock. Now you know perfectly well what I mean, though you will not explain it for me, because you are conscious I am in the right."

"Well, my dear, if you are conscious of it, that is suffici ent-We will not dispute any more about such a trifle.” "Are they bringing up dinner?”

"If they know that you are come in; but I am sure I cannot tell whether they do or not-Pray my dear Mrs. Nettleby," cried the lady, turning to a female friend, and still holding her watch in hand- -"What o'clock is it by you? There is nobody in the world hates disputing about trifles so much as I do, but I own I do love to convince people that I am in the right."

Mrs. Nettleby's watch had stopped - How provoking! Vexed at having no immediate means of convincing people that she was in the right, our heroine consoled herself by proceeding to criminate her husband, not in this particular instance, where he pleaded guilty, but upon the general charge of being always late for dinner, which he strenuously denied.

There is something in the species of reproach, which advances thus triumphantly from particulars to generals, peculiarly offensive to every reasonable and susceptible mind; and there is something in the general charge of

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