(To be continued.)
ON CONTENTMENT.
The world has been often, and properly enough, compared to a theatre, in which men step forth to public view, and act their several parts. These parts are allotted by the Governor of the Universe, who best knows the characters to which we are suited; and it is our greatest wisdom to acquiesce in them, and to endeavour to sustain them with propriety, whilst we are upon the stage of this life.---Happiness is distributed with a more impartial hand than we generally imagine. It consists not in the possession of riches and honours, in outward shew and splendor: it is something internal. It is seated in the mind, and if we seek it elsewhere, we shall seek it in vain. The contented peasant in his humble cot is happy with a sufficiency, whilst the greatest Lord in the Universe, in the midst of all his wealth and grandeur, is often a prey to anxiety and discontent. Does not the poor beggar, with all his apparent want, frequently enjoy more real happiness than the rich miser in the midst of his abundance? The latter is continually tormented with the fear of losing his superfluous treasures: eager of adding to his store, he even denies himself common necessaries, and leads a miserable life; whilst the former, unmindful of future wants, is heard to sing over his scanty meal. Contentment is a most valuable blessing. It is the sovereign medicine of afflictions. By bearing them with patience and resignation, we in a great measure lessen their weight, and are better prepared to withstand any future adverse stroke of fortune. But instead of alleviating, we only add to our troubles by repining. Often do we wantonly contrive to be our own tormentors, by looking with an envious ill-natured eye, upon the condition of others, or by contemplating only the dark side of our own. Often, too often, do we reject our own happiness, by neglecting every substantial blessing that is within our reach; and court misery, by creating imaginary wants to ourselves, and hunting after some fugitive enjoyment, which, like a shadow always flies from us in proportion to the swiftness with which it is pursued.
TASTE.
The force of custom, of fancy, and of casual associations is very great both upon the external and internal taste. An Eskimaux can regale himself with a draught of whale-oil, and a Canadian can feast upon a dog. A Kamtschatkadale lives upon putrid fish, and is sometimes reduced to eat the bark of trees. The taste of rum or green tea, is at first as nauseous as that of ipecacuanha to some persons, who may be brought by use to relish what they once found so disagreeable.