servilely, is so influential in moulding opinions and judgment, has such a weight in the estimation of character, that men regard its acquisition as the most prudent aim of their endeavours, and its possession as absolute enjoyment and honour, rather than the means of honourable, useful, and happy life.  While riches are thus over-estimated, and hold such power in the community, men will forego ease and endure toil, sacrifice social pleasures and abandon principle, for the speedy and unlimited acquirement of property.  Money will not be regarded as the means of living, but as the object of life.  All nobler ends will be neglected in the eager haste to be rich.  No higher pursuit will be recognised than the pursuit of gold—­no attainment deemed so desirable as the attainment of wealth.  While the great man of every circle is the rich man, in the common mind wealth becomes the synonyme of greatness.  No condition is discernable superior to that which money confers; no loftier idea of manhood is entertained than that which embraces the extent of one’s possessions.

There is a wealth of heart better than gold, and an interior decoration fairer than outward ornament.—­

There is a splendour in upright life, beside which gems are lustreless; and a fineness of spirit whose beauty outvies the glitter of diamonds.  Man’s true riches are hidden in his nature, and in their development and increase will he find his surest happiness.

HOW TO BE HAPPY.

OLD Mr. Cleveland sat by his comfortable fireside one cold winter’s night.  He was a widower, and lived alone on his plantation; that is to say, he was the only white person there; for of negroes, both field hands and house servants, he had enough and to spare.  He was a queer old man, this Mr. Cleveland; a man of kind, good feelings, but of eccentric impulses, and blunt and startling manners.  You must always let him do everything in his own odd way; just attempt to dictate to him, or even to suggest a certain course, and you would be sure to defeat your wisest designs.  He seemed at times possessed by a spirit of opposition, and would often turn right round and oppose a course he had just been vehemently advocating, only because some one else had ventured openly and warmly to approve it.

The night, as I have said, was bitter cold, and would have done honour to a northern latitude, and in addition to this, a violent storm was coming on.  The wind blew in fitful gusts, howling and sighing among the huge trees with which the house was surrounded, and then dying away with a melancholy, dirge-like moan.  The old tree rubbed their leafless branches against the window panes, and the fowls which had roosted there for the night, were fain to clap their wings, and make prodigious efforts to preserve their equilibrium.  Mr. Cleveland grew moody and restless, threw down the book in which he had been reading, kicked one of the andirons till he made the whole blazing fabric tumble down, and finally called, in an impatient tone, his boy Tom.