The materials for this nest are in themselves mean and worthless-here a feather, there a straw yonder a spray of moss-and on that thorn a tuft of wool: we despise or overlook them, but the bird, wise and patient in the providential instinct of its nature, sees differently, and confounds by its actions both man and his reasoning. It collects the small, contemned materials, arranges them, and, when arranged, the feather, the straw, the moss, and the wool, having lost their separate insignificance, form part of a beautiful whole, of a tiny but perfect fabric. Just so let us not despise trifles-any trifle at least, by means of which an innocent gratification may either be imparted or received, and we shall find an aggregate of pleasure. word that occupies but a

The kind look or moment, may, by

its influence on the spirits, gladden a whole day; five minutes' conversation with a stranger accidentally met, may embody some information that we were previously ignorant of, or suggest some valuable train of thought that might not otherwise have arisen.

A habit of rendering and of being pleased with the minor charities and courtesies of

life, which Milton calls "the thousand decencies" that flow from words and actions, has a vast influence upon happiness. Every graceful observance, or yet more graceful forbearance, may seem separately as unimportant as a grain of sand; but taken in the accumulation of a whole life, they resemble the body of "sand upon the sea-shore ". -a barrier to the fury of an ocean. There is pride in despising to enjoy trifles when they lie in our path, and only ask us to pick them up :-there is folly too-for enrapturing pleasures come but seldom, and even then exhaust rather than strengthen the mind :—and there is even sin-for the little enjoyments despised are often especially prepared for us by God. There is pride-for man, regarded only in this world, is, with all his boasting, nothing better than a solemn trifle himself. There is folly for he knows not how soon sickness or affliction may incapacitate him for taking pleasure in every thing, in what he terms great no less than in what he considers little. There is sin-for the things disregarded are often perfect, whilst those desired are more or less alloyed. A gratified ambition cannot

often arise to gratify us, and when it does, it mainly gratifies our earthly feelings; but the sudden sight of a bank of wild flowers, an unexpected strain of music, the loving laugh of a child, a thousand natural and small delights, can afford the soul a momentary triumph over its baser companion, by inspiring love without passion, by shedding as it were a dew over feelings scorched by the world, and by exciting for innocent gladness that healthy sympathy which of itself maketh glad. Solomon, in Ecclesiastes, speaks with bitterness of all the great pleasures that he had made and found-his success, his pomp, his possessions, his fame, even his knowledge; but he never speaks a word against simple natural pleasures-"Truly," saith he, "the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun.”

I am well, too well aware, that when all is said and done, many minds will remain essentially sad-thoughted; minds gifted with moral second-sight, to whom the surface of every thing lies bare, and whose present is darkened by the shadows of the future. There will always be too much melancholy in the

world, and in the world itself too much occasion for melancholy. Wherever there is thought, there must be sadness; but there is no need to seek after it as a luxury, respect it as a virtue, or consider it a proof of genius. The sadness of a profound philosopher, and the pensiveness of a very young poet, are extraordinarily different one will probably lead to ameliorating effort the other as probably only expand in a simile or expire in a sigh. Let me entreat you, dear not to be as many years as I was in finding out the very simple but useful truth-that trifling enjoyments are not always trivial; it is a truth that neighbors closely on that which proclaims the importance of trifling duties; the recognition of one involves the other.

Adieu, and strive to be cheerful.

LETTER XXVI.

MY DEAR

I SHOULD Scarcely have volunteered to write you "a serious letter," but your having made the request renders the occupation pleasant. As you leave the subject to me, I will arrange a few remarks on the influence and non-influence of Christianity, written some time since, and which, if not very profound, will to your partial eyes have merit in being my own, and interest in being now addressed to yourself.

On comparing, then, the state of the world in its heathen and in its converted days, I think our first involuntary reflection is"How much "—and our second, "How little has it been amended by Christianity!" The progress of civilization, and the better under