Our own Happiness essential to the Happiness of others. 121 burst forth and fasten upon something which is suited to fill his enlarged desires.

It is his capacity for high and exalted happiness which raises man above the emptiness of the scene by which he is now surrounded. It is this preeminently, which elevates him in the scale of being, and brings him into such near affinity to angels. It is this which allies him so closely to his Maker, and beckons him onward to those fields of unsullied bliss, and those streams of untold delight, which to the eye of faith, lie beyond his present existence. No one can look upon man's capacity for happiness as a social, intellectual, and moral being, and upon the ample provision which is made for the most perfect exercise of all his faculties, without being compelled to feel that his Creator designed him for happiness in each of these relations. He has every reason to believe that happiness in some sense occupies, not only his attention, but the attention of all intelligent beings. The attainment of it in the way which is marked out for them by their Creator, is no doubt an object which is worthy of their most eager pursuit. The attainment and communication of it in the widest sense, including the right use of all our faculties, is no doubt the sum of all goodness or virtue.

After having fixed those leading principles which regulate its attainment and communication among men generally, we might expect that the same principles would hold true, in their specific application to any circle of individuals however limited. This we find to be the fact, so far as they extend. But when we enter the domestic circle and inquire how its happiness, "the bliss of heaven," is to be promoted, we find that another principle is essential to its completion. Here we find that the highest degree of happiness cannot be communicated unless we are happy ourselves. In all circumstances however, our own happiness is consistent with the highest supposable happiness of others. But it is not true that in all circumstances our happiness is absolutely essential to the happiness of those around us. We may sustain such relations to the community or mankind generally, that the highest good of those whose happiness we are bound to consult, may be promoted, even through our instrumentality, while our own happiness is sacrificed; except so far as we are necessarily made happy by seeing others so. For instance, an avaricious man who gives "grudgingly," may confer real good upon others, while he is far from being happy in doing it. But in the “Little World” in which we move, (“ a wheel within a wheel,”) we know of no exceptions to the truth which is intended to be expressed in the title which we have placed at the head of this article. To impart happiness here, we must possess it. I may, it is true, oblige a neighbor without being cheerful and happy in doing it. I may do it very reluctantly, while his happiness in the case may not be materially affected by the feelings with which the supposed favor is granted. Not so in the domestic circle. Here happiness must be experienced in communicating good to others. Every thing must be done willingly; nothing by constraint. We must be cheerful and happy ourselves, in performing our act of kindness, otherwise our favors will be of little worth. If a cheerful heart (the most essential requisite) is wanting, our favors, instead of being such in reality, will probably fail entirely to promote the happiness of those upon whom they are conferred. Who does not love a "cheerful giver?" Favors coming from any other source are not favors; and instead of being coveted should rather be deprecated. Here,

where the social or loveliest part of our natures is to be cherished-where the feelings which prompt our acts are more essential to the happiness of others than the acts themselves, it is not sufficient that real good is conferred. Every thing must be done freely. Any thing like constraint in an act of kindness, destroys every thing which deserves the name. To bestow kindness therefore in the true sense, is to be kind. In other words, to make others happy we must be so ourselves. This is the only thing which can render the domestic circle what it should be—a place where, through mutual kindness, the greatest possible amount of happiness may be reciprocated. Emphatically is this true in the married state. None are more sacredly or closely connected. None have a greater influence upon each others happiness. None have the power to make each other more truly miserable. Here it is that joys or sorrows are literally doubled. Here it is that the downcast look, the clouded brow, the tearful eye and the heavy heart send sadness-sadness too in proportion to the degree of affection which is cherished to the heart of another. Here it is also that contentment, led on by her bright train of graces, and peace, her twin sister, wake up the smile of joy and gladness in the countenance of a beloved companion, in proportion to the degree of sympathy which is felt for each others happiness. None have greater occasion to be happy. None are under higher obligations to be happy for each others sake. What was a privilege before now becomes a duty. United as they are in wedded love, to the individual of their choice, happiness felt and happiness reflected should be their mutual and constant guest. In short, to be to each other what they should be, each should be truly and habitually happy. This, and this only, can make that state what it should be a state in which, by mutual kind offices, spontaneously performed or prompted by a true heart, our natures are to attain the highest degree of perfection to which they are destined this side of heaven.

LIGNUM VITE.

For the Microcosm.

LINES.

"She lived a four year's life, and died-so it was ordained. Now her tiny "Album" is in the hands of her sister who is almost as beautiful as herself. She is young to own an Album, to be sure, but there must be something in it."

A SPARKLING drop in the stream is flowing,

But soon will exhale itself away,

And a rose on the brink of the stream is growing,
But the bud of the rose may be plucked to day.

Yet still the stream forever flows

To soothe the panting traveler well;
And see-a bud in beauty grows

Where once another grew and fell.

So He who hath given and taken a blessing
Can restore to the soul what is lost and deplored;
And thou, little reader, whom we are caressing,
Art another like her who was too much adored.

July 23, 1834.

Family Superstitions.

In thee as joyous and as fair
Her little life begins anew,

While they who watch it breathe the prayer,
It may not be as fleeting too!

May He spare thee, who gave thee to gladden our sight,
Till the eyes that are gazing upon thee grow dim;
And still, as a flower reaches after the light,

Let all thy affections reach upward to Him.

And thus whate'er thy earthly doom,
Reared or transplanted by His word,
Thou shalt forever live and bloom

Within the garden of the Lord!

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FAMILY SUPERSTITIONS.

SIR Walter Scott tells us there is a spice of superstition in every human breast. Perhaps there is-and this very fact should lead us to examine into the nature of superstition, and keep it under the control of reason. We include in family superstitions all that class of signs and symbols to which certain families are so devoted, and which are handed down from one generation to another. Children are taught in this particular to reverence the belief of their parents; and thus a superstitious regard to signs and omens becomes hereditary. Signs are often alluded to inadvertently, and without any distinct idea of their influence or tendency. They appear harmless in themselves, and might be considered innocent, did we not often see injurious effects in the supposed connection of the sign with the circumstances following.

The number of families in this enlightened age and country, whose conduct in important events is controlled by superstitious influences, is almost incredible. They will never engage in any enterprize of magnitude, or commence a journey on Friday, because they have been accustomed to regard it as an ill-starred day. They can give no reason for their faith, except that they have been brought up to believe this and that a lucky or unlucky We have known many who regarded the last Friday in the month as a sure index to the character of the succeeding month; yet we never knew one who kept a register to test the accuracy of the prognostic. They lay down the premises, and then do not treat them with sufficient respect to examine into their infallibility :-a striking practical comment upon the worthlessness of the symbol.

omen.

We will not go so far into the secrets of husbandry as to discuss the influence of the moon over seed-time and harvest-but taking shelter under the declaration of scripture-" He that observeth the wind, shall not sow; and he that regardeth the clouds, shall not reap :" leave the results of symbolical observation to those more deeply experienced.

If a knife or scissors fall and stand upright, or a bee enters the room from the open window with its announcing hum, some families " are certainly go

ing to have company!" We have known a lady whose faith in these tokens showed itself in works. She would set aside her previous arrangements, on the entrance of the above-named little herald, to make cake and biscuit for tea, if she chanced to be unprepared, in the confident expectation of sharing them with a friend. Meanwhile, the little humble instrument in the day's work, went on singing to the next flower, or calling on the next neighbor, without dreaming of its agency in all this preparation. There certainly is not much harm in this fancy. The family had a good supper by the means, and if a friend chanced to arrive, a cordial welcome was doubtless in readiness. But all superstitions are not so innocent, or so productive of happiness. Whole families have been made wretched by the accidental breaking of a mirror, or by a dog howling before the gate in the shades of evening. If a death occurred in the circle of relatives during a year after, it was traced back to a connection with these weak omens.

The little, hard-backed insect called the Death-watch, whose dreaded "tick" is made by doubling and throwing itself with a snap against the wainscot, has probably exerted a greater influence over hundreds, than the sagest philosopher could boast, who reads events with the clear eye of reason. There are many other forms of superstition, less permanent in their effects, but which produce a momentary inquietude in minds accustomed to regard them. How many had rather see the new moon over their right shoulder than their left? We believe the influence of all these fancies to be pernicious. Their tendency is to fatalism-to blindness of mind, in those who are misled by them. How little such people use their reasoning faculties! Professing to believe there is one All Wise Ruler of the Universe, and that not a sparrow falls to the ground without His knowledge, to admit for a moment, that he delegates or transfers his power to such insignificant, contemptible agencies: and the fact of a belief in signs and omens, amounts to this.

When superstitious signs are mentioned in the presence of children, we think their influence should be counteracted by representing them as relics of the dark ages; and examining them as antique curiosities merely. There is an influence about them, which may take hold of the wisest and stoutest heart. We have known individuals professing an utter disbelief in omens, unable to shake off the impression derived from some striking coincidence of prognostic and fulfilment :-thus furnishing corroborative testimony to Sir Walter's declaration respecting the inherent superstition of the human heart.

And

"Letter-writing seems to be singularly the province of women. wherefore? They have perhaps seen that nature appears most to rejoice in adorning the smaller creatures of her hands;—and they ever dip the pen in Nature they seek her pearls therefore in the shells which a prouder foot would crush. This is one reason. Another is, that they make letters a vehicle—not for glaring facts, or sage opinions, but for those sweet sentiments, and sweeter charities, which are the language and the life of the heart."

NOTWITHSTANDING the infinite pains taken to spoil nature's lovely works, there is a principle of resistance, which allows of only partial success; and numbers of sweet children exist, to delight and soothe, and divert us, when we are weary or fretted by grown-up people, and to justify all that has been said or written of the charms of childhood. Perhaps only women, their natural nurses and faithful protectressess can thoroughly appreciate the attractions of the first few months of human existence. The recumbent position, the fragile limbs, the lethargic tastes, and ungrateful indifference to notice, of a very young infant, render it uninteresting to most gentlemen, except its father; and he is generally afraid to touch it, for fear of breaking its neck. But even in this state, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and nurses, assure you that strong indications of sense and genius may be discerned in the little animal; and I have known a clatter of surprise and joy excited through a whole family, and matter afforded for twenty long letters and innumerable animated conversations, by some marvellous demonstration of intellect in a creature in long clothes, who could not hold its head straight.

But as soon as the baby has acquired firmness and liveliness-as soon as it smiles at a familiar face, and stares at a strange one-as soon as it employs its hands and eyes in constant expeditions of discov. ery, and crows and leaps from the excess of animal contentment—it becomes an object of undefinable and powerful interest, to which all the sympathies of our nature attach us--an object at once of tenderness, interesting as it is in its helplessness and innocence.

Who has not occasionally, when fondling an infant, felt oppressed by the weight of mystery which hangs over its fate? Perhaps we hold in our arms an angel, kept but for a few months from the heaven in which it is to spend the rest of an immortal existence; perhaps we see the germ of all that is hideous and hateful in our nature. Thus looked and thus sported, thus calmly slumbered and sweetly smiled, the monsters of our race in their days of infancy. Where are the marks to distinguish a Nero from a Trajan, an Abel from a Cain? But it is not in this spirit that it is either wise or happy to contemplate any thing. Better is it--when we behold the energy and animation of young children, their warm affections, their ready, unsuspicious confidence, their wild, unwearied glee, their mirth so easily excited, their love so easily won-to enjoy unrestrained the pleasantness of life's morning; that morning so bright and joyous, and to teach us that nature intended us to be happy, and usually gains her end until we are old enough to discover how we may defeat it.

Little girls are my favorites. Boys, though sufficiently interesting and amusing, are apt to be infected, as soon as they assume the manly garb, with a little of that masculine violence and obstinacy, which, when they grow up, they will call spirit and firmness; and they lose earlier in life that docility, tenderness, and ignorance of evil, which are their sisters' peculiar charms. In all the range of visible creation, there is