better, that we shall continue for long years as we are, or shall sink into deeper disease and death; adding, that pain and disturbance and death are indissolubly linked with the indestructible life of the soul, and supposing that we are willing to be conducted on in this eternal course by Him whose thought and ways are not as ours, but whose tenderness . . . . Then how we burst in, and take up the word! What have we not to say, from the abundance of our hearts, of that benignity, -- that transcendent wisdom, -our willingness, our eagerness, our sweet security,- till we are silenced by our unutterable joy!"—pp. 164–167.

But we must forbear, and commit this gift of Christian wisdom, piety, and love to the thoughtful and, we are sure, thankful use of those whose highest welfare it was intended to subserve. For the principles which it inculcates, for the exalted ideal it presents, for the renovating spirit with which it is filled, the book cannot fail to be "a blessing to humanity."

Recent inquiry has brought to light many startling facts, in relation to permanent unhealthiness, with its occasions. From these, one would almost infer that perfect, continued health had come to be the exception, instead of the rule, with the human race. What small community cannot array a host of invalids? What family is without one or more? Upon examination, there must needs be discovered, among the immediate causes of the loss of health, much ignorance respecting the conditions on which that. great blessing of God is conferred and prolonged, and much neglect or wanton violation of the laws which determine the state of the human constitution. The blame which is called forth in these cases is sometimes extended to others, which properly fall under a different category. Hence some even talk, as if it were morally wrong to be sick. And the victim to even unmerited suffering is flouted, if he say, 'There is a Providence in it.'

Unquestionably, there is large room for the severe but kindly meant animadversions, to which we here allude. Men and women, who might and ought to know better, do disregard the conditions and laws upon which health is dependent, expose and squander good constitutions, and bring on themselves and their children irreparable evils in the various forms of disease. In compliance with the

merest follies and extravagances, which happen to be called 'fashions,' thousands rush on their own death. The facts should be promulgated. The doctrine which reaches them should be solemnly, rigorously, we had almost said inexorably, enforced. Such infatuated solicitation of physical ruin ought to be repressed and rebuked with all reasonable severity. But still there is a limit to be respected. There are distinctions, important to be drawn, which may be neglected in our sweeping censures. Some things are more precious than health, or than life. The human heart is among them.

It were idle, to go about to prove that many other causes, besides the censurable ones which benevolent moralists concern themselves with, may induce an invalid's condition. Health may have never been possessed in soundness; hereditary disease may have prevented its enjoyment; it may be lost through innocent error, or sacrificed to benevolent impulses. One loathes the sensual view which would make man's best estate a healthful condition of his frame merely, irrespectively of the great purposes for which life and all our powers were bestowed. It is for the sake of those purposes chiefly, that we may covet permanent health, and be at great cost and pains to secure, or recover the boon. Apart from these, wherein lies its value to a noble mind? To a duty one might sacrifice his life, much more his health.

However induced, in spite of every care, diseases will come upon men. They come, under a Divine Providence, if not by it, - permitted, if not sent. Life in the sickroom is a common phase of human existence everywhere. While we direct to its removal all the power which better knowledge and increasing virtue yield, it becomes a proper and interesting question, how disease is to be considered with regard to the soul's life and progress? To what spiritual uses may the discipline of this form of suffering be conducive?

"No wise man will deny," says Miss Martineau, "that the healthiest moral condition is found where there is most abundant happiness. Happiness is clearly the native, heavenly atmosphere of the soul - that in which it is 'to live, move, and have its being' hereafter, and in proportion to its share of which, here and now, it makes its heavenly growth. The divinest souls

the loftiest - most disinterested and devoted all unite in one testimony, that they have been best when happiest, that they were then most energetic and spontaneously devoted, ― least self-conscious.' pp. 147, 148.

To this position, taken as it is designed to be, we assent of course, although we might prefer it stated with its implied qualifications. Who doubts, that a vast many of our race would have been better, if they had been happier? Who, that has seen, what too often occurs, youth become apt to evil, when the morning of life has been shorn of "its natural blessedness," and the man grow reckless of duty, after he has despaired of reaching the good for which he has panted and struggled long years in vain? It is clear, that the moral nature is likely to fare best where the whole being is in its proper, normal condition. Yet, the human soul has energies enough to burst all the bonds of untoward circumstance. It has shown that it can "make its spiritual growth" in spite of the limitations which tend to dwarf its powers, and the sufferings which threaten to blight them. The heroic virtues, which have honored and blessed our common humanity, are the trophies of such a victory. Some sublimer redeeming influence has superseded the inferior agencies of good, in such instances, but not demonstrated their inutility. If, however, according to the test above cited, abundant happiness be the soul's more genial atmosphere, without which it may pine, in which flourish, what shall we say to the invalid's lot? Small is the portion of this propitious element which gathers around life in the sick room.

It would be worth our while to trace, amidst the desolations which permanent disease creates, the footsteps of that Mercy which descends to repair them. We do not admit to our minds freely enough the lights which might gild, if they could not dissipate, the clouds which brood over them. God forbid we should represent as less than they are the sorrows of the sick. They can hardly be spoken of unreservedly to the healthy and happy, without the semblance of exaggeration. But they who will enter the dark retreats which cover them, may know for themselves what those sorrows are. Others cannot know by being told. Yet sternly, terribly, as the evils in the prison-house of the victim to disease may frown upon us, there are good angels

among them, whom having seen we remember forever with inexpressible tenderness and joy.

One element among those most obvious in this sad condition, is the deep, entire, often dreary seclusion it implies. In health we range far and wide, unrestrained. Our track is on the morning dews "o'er every pleasant hill and dale ;" we linger at nightfall by the murmuring brook, or the shore which echoes the moan of the sea. Nature opens for us all her springs of delight. Society awaits our coming, with other pleasures and gifts of instruction to bestow. And there are yet other resources for mind and for body, wholesome and not without their charms, in the scenes where business traffics. This free contact with a thousand varieties of outward objects and interests is replete with spiritual uses. We lose and forget ourselves in the open world. Collision brings out thoughts and feelings which had else slept within us, and the soul may be thus enriched, and is always quickened and animated. The intellectual activity receives here direction as well as impulse, and when tending to excess is conducted off through many safe channels. But with health this liberty passes away. The invalid must dwell apart where the world will not follow him. He has few severer pangs than the one which accompanies the conviction, that he is henceforth cut off from free intercourse with nature and society, and has no longer a part in the common business and amusements of life. Long will images of objects once cherished, but abandoned now, continue to haunt his waking and his sleeping hours. In his feverish dreams he resumes suspended tasks, stands at the wonted desk and writes, makes sales, calculates accounts; or he revisits favorite places, sits beneath the tree on the rock which he rested by when a child, joins the merry ring on the green sward, kneels on the hassock with his parents to pray. But he wakes to find it only a dream. He is alone in a retirement from which he can seldom, perhaps never, be withdrawn. Not his, the solitude which the scholar knows well to enliven. Happy were it so. With his aching frame and unstrung nerves few studies could be made compatible, supposing he had the disposition and the means to pursue them. Not his, the solitude of the artist; those are brighter and happier hours than his, which are spent with pallet, pen, or chisel in hand, how

ever spent alone. Intelligence with him has put off its dignities, and genius has done with her creations. The hands which hang down and the feeble knees are no more unsuitable to their wonted uses, than the higher faculties to their former employments, in their present drooping and spiritless condition. He sits, alike in pain or quietness, idle, or with varied expedients, all poor enough, to keep from seeming idle. What exertions of mind or body he puts forth are so different from those he once made, that he can find nothing in them to raise self-esteem, though they help to beguile the sorrows he must still endure. Other and yet darker incidents overshadow the picture, but we will not name them. Enough, if we have indicated what is implied in sequestration from the common paths and interests of men.

And have we any offset to all this? There is one, arising from the very circumstances that produce the evils we have adverted to. In exclusion and banishment, amidst dreariness and despondence, when heart and flesh are failing, the soul obtains a new, and a more profound conviction than it ever had before, of the highest truths. How does it then begin to apprehend as a reality the great presence of God! He was near in happier scenes and hours, as He is in these. But many other objects were interposed, which turned the thoughts from Him, or attracted to themselves what should have been his alone. In the captivity which has torn it away from them, it is restored to Him. God becomes to the soul then a refuge and solace, when the idols it had suffered to supplant him have been all destroyed.

There are few situations in which man feels his relation to God and his dependence on the Divine mercy more sensibly, than in the solitude created by a hopeless disease. The stillness necessary to the shattered frame is propitious to the holiest thoughts and emotions. The humiliations. which are attendant upon infirmity and pain bring low, even into the dust before him, whatever exalteth itself against God. The helplessness, that knows not what to do nor where to look for relief, carries us to him who is able to supply all our need. Ah! with what emphasis might a sick and dying man reiterate the exclamation, "I have