take the world as it goes; and should I ever be rich enough of purchase a coach, I'll have the following lines on it, in letters to gold, for a motto:— I'll make the most of life, no time mispend, "Of all my Father's Family I like MYSELF the best." A VERY sensible and feeling sentiment, whether said or sung. If one's affections centre in himself; if the whole circumference of his friendship is bounded by his own breast; how easy, how quiet, how comfortable must his years roll on! The ills which be fal others, do not vex him. The ravages of fire and famine, of pestilence and death, never trouble him; provided they do not enter his own threshold. He is not chargeable with partiality or injustice towards any. He does not, by performing one liberal or generous act, establish a precedent for another. No one person ever asks a favour of him, more than once: Being refused, it would be folly to repeat such bootless calls. I have known people harrassed half to death for favours and acts of kindness, merely because they suffered it to "get about" that they were in the habit of granting them; when, had they adopted my policy, and shut themselves up snugly in their own chimney corner, nobody would ever have thought of troubling them. More than nine tenths of all the ills and vexations of this life, arise from people's ignorance of, or inattention to, my doctrines. I have kept a reg ular journal of all the calamitous events which have happened since my remembrance, and I have in every instance traced their origin to a departure from first principles; that is, the great, grand principle of preferring one's self to every body else. I have noted almost innumerable cases, where men drowned themselves, by attempting to rescue others from a watery grave! and a near. neighbour of mine once actually ruined a good coat and hat, by rushing into a burning house to snatch a child from the flames; and what adds greatly to the folly and madness of the act, the child was not in any way related to him!—A beggar woman I called at the house of Mr. -, on a raw blustering evening. She held in her arms a child, half naked and shivering with the cold. She wanted some old garment to protect it from the tempest. Instead of sending her off, away ran Mr.daughter to a clothes-press, with a candle in her hand, to get the article which the beggar wanted. In her hurry, she set fire to a garment hanging in the press; The house was almost instantly in flames; and three other houses were destroyed with it! Such were the consequences arising from a silly girl's sensibility! ELEGANT METAPHOR. 's Proverbs are sometimes expressed in elegant metaphor.-I was struck with an oriental one of this sort, which I met with in some book of travels:-"With time and patience the leaf of the mulberry tree becomes satin." GOOD QUALITIES ILL APPLIED. Agesilaus, seeing a malefactor endure the greatest torments with prodigious constancy, cried out with indignation, "What an audacious villain is this, that dares employ patience, courage, and magnanimity in such an impious and dishonest cause." A magistrate, who could neither read nor write, being handed a warrant to read, very sagaciously put on his spectacles, but unluckily turned the warrant wrong end uppermost. A person who stood near him, more busy than wise, observed that the warrant was turned the wrong way for reading-" Sir," said the magistrate, "I would have you to know, that, by virtue' of my commission, I may read with which end I please uppermost." A poor man came once to a miser, and said, "I have a boon to ask."" So have I," said the miser; 66 grant mine first, then I will comply with thine."" Agreed," said the petitioner." Well then, said the miser, "my request is that thou ask me nothing." A miser, who was asked why he had married a girl from his own kitchen, said, "that the union was attended with a double advantage, it saved him not only the expence of a wife, but the tax on a servant." HYMENEAL AND OBITUARY. MARRIED-In this town, Mr. Eben Fisk, mer. of New Orleans, to Miss Emily Willard, daughter of Mr. Aaron Willard. In Charlestown, Capt. John S. Call, to Miss Eunice Baxter. In Marblehead, Capt. Benjamin Gardner to Miss Elizabeth Tucker: Mr. John G. Graves to Miss Deborah Oliver. In Pittsfield, Mass. Mr. George E. Wattson, of Detroit, to Miss Lucy, daughter of Hon. N. Willis. In New-Bedford, Mr. William Haskins, jun. to Miss Ruth Case. DIED]-In this town, Francis Cabot Lowell, Esq. aged 42. Capt. Josiah Wheeler, aged 24: Mr. John Low, aged 46: Mrs. Juliana, wife of Mr. Charles Coolidge, aged 28: Mrs. Fauny Stephens, aged 62: William, only son of Mr. William Beckford, aged 2 years and 3 months: Miss Elizabeth Buckley, aged 74. In Cambridge, Lucy Ann, youngest child of Mr. John Chamberlain : John, only child of Mr. John Watson. In West Cambridge, Benjamin Eddy, Esq. for many years commander of a ship in the trade between Boston and London. In Taunton, Miss Prudence Williams, daughter of Gideon Williams, Esq. In Holliston, Mrs. Mary, wife of the Rev. Josephus Wheaton. In Dorchester, Mr. John Marshall, aged 61. In Hanover, Mr. Joseph Ramsdell, aged 74. In Lancaster, Mr. Paul Willard, aged 63. In Bridgewater, Mr. Israel Green, aged 59. In Topsfield, Mrs. Esther, wife of Mr. Robert Perkins, jun. aged 63. In Ipswich, Mr. Benjamin Brown, aged 23. In Franklin, Hezekiah Tracy, aged 82. POETRY. THE SABBATH MORN. DEAR is the hallow'd morn to me, Call me from earthly cares away. And, dear the simple melody, Sung with the pomp of rustick art; That holy, heavenly harmony, The musick of a thankful heart. In secret I have often pray'd And still the anxious tear would fall; But on thy sacred altar laid, The fire descends and dries them all. Oft when the world, with iron hands, Thou bursts them, like the strong man's bands, Then, dear to me the Sabbath morn, The village bells, the shepherd's voiceThese oft have found my heart forlorn, And always bid that heart rejoice. Go, man of pleasure, strike thy lyre, Ours are the prophet's car of fire THE WEEKLY MONITOR, MORAL, ENTERTAINING AND INSTRUCTIVE. appears to me incompatible with reason, that any intelligent and reflecting being should for a moment doubt the existence of a God. The deist who in his disbelief of religion gratifies every unhallowed passion, and in his impatience of restraint bursts asunder the necessary restrictions of morality, may, indeed, in the hour of estivity, assert that he has no superior, and the universe no creator; yet he asserts what he cannot even doubt thinking, in the excess of vanity, that blasphemy adds dignity to his character. Such was the case with Voltaire. His frequent denial of the existence of a Deity could not have been sincere, because sincerity in this iso). only the concomitant of ignorance. He lived in a country almost universally corrupt, a vast number of the inhabitants constituting a sect of which he was the leader, and like him paid their adorations to no other deity than human reason. He who denied most the existence of things, which came within the cognizance of his senses, was styled the man most perfect in his reason.-To preserve therefore this character of perfection it is no wonder, that Voltaire, in contradiction to the strongest evidences of his senses, denied the existence of a God. In every age, and in every country of the world, mankind have. paid their adorations to some being, whom they regarded as their creator and protector. The inhabitants of the wilderness and the desert, ignorant as they are, and with views confined within the narrowest limits, cannot behold themselves and the universe without acknowledging they were created by some superior being. This circumstance, while it furnishes a strong argument in favor of the being of a God, sufficiently refutes the assertion, that an intelligent being can even doubt it. It is absurd to suppose that a theme which animates the savage in his hut, and the hottentot in his ham let, can be discarded from the breast of the philosopher as the idle tale of ignorance or the phantom of tradition. At every step we tread, we behold new traces of the Deity. We view him in the silence of the night and in the turbulence of the day, we hear him in the zephyr and in the tempest. When the atheist has cast his eyes to the heavens and viewed the stupenddus concave of suns and worlds, "wheeling unshaken through the void immense," let him in the madness of reason assert that they created themselves—But let intelligent beings enjoy the comfortable belief, that the Universe is the production of an omnipotent Creator. Did I believe that an intelligent being would demand mathematical demonstration of this belief so self-evident, so incontrovertible, I would not hesitate a moment to offer it. I believe that ignorance and prejudice alone will demand it, and with ignorance and prejudice I have nothing to do with. Let it suffice that he who cannot doubt the existence of his senses, cannot doubt the existence of a God. "And if a God there be, that God how great.” Our eyes are filled with admiration at the contemplation of an extensive river or a lofty mountain, but when we compare the river with the ocean, or the mountain with the earth, they become lost in the contrast, and as trivial as a drop of the bucket or a grain of sand. If we compare the whole earth attended with its mountains, and rivers, and oceans, with the sun, how wide is the difference— but if we place the whole universe in the scale, we are struck with the most awful wonder at the contrast and confounded in the con templation of its magnitude. "Were the sun," says Mr. Addison very beautifully, "which enlightens this part of creation utterly ́extinguished and annihilated, they would not be missed more than a grain of sand on the sea shore. The chasm would be imperceptible to an eye that could take in the whole compass of nature, and pass from one end of the creation to the other. Undoubtedly the universe has bounds prescribed to it, but when we consider that it is the work of infinite power prompted by infinite goodness, with an infinite space to exert itself in; how can our imaginations set bounds to it." If then the universe is so stupendous, so infinite, so incomprehensible, how stupendous, how infinite, how incomprehensible is its great Creator!—If a river or a mountain fill our minds with the idea of sublimity, where shall we find space sufficient for him "who holdeth the waters in the hollow of his hand, who weigheth the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance." In reading in the records of past ages of nations, boundless in their extent, swarming with inhabitants, overflowing with all the |