it is the fruit of long cultivation, and the acquisition of labor and care.

A plain understanding is often joined with great worth.

The brightest parts are sometimes found without virtue or honor.

How feeble are the attractions of the fairest form, when nothing within corresponds to them.

Piety and virtue are particularly graceful and becoming in youth.

Can we, untouched by gratitude, view that profusion of good, which the Divine Hand pours around us?

There is nothing in human life more amiable and respectable, than the character of a truly humble and benevolent man.

What feelings are more uneasy and painful, than the workings of sour and angry passions?

No man can be active in disquieting others, who does not, at the same time, disquiet himself.

A life of pleasure and dissipation is an enemy to health, fortune and character.

To correct the spirit of discontent, let us consider how little we deserve, and how much we enjoy.

As far as happiness is to be found on earth, we must look for it, not in the world, or the things of the world; but within ourselves, in our temper, and in our heart.

Though bad men attempt to turn virtue into ridicule, they honor it at the bottom of their hearts.

Of what small moment to our real happiness, are many of those injuries which draw forth our re

sentment!

In the moments of eager contention, every thing is magnified and distorted in its appearance.

Multitudes in the most obscure stations, are not less eager in their petty broils, nor less tormented by their passions, than if princely honors were the prize for which they contended.

The smooth stream, the serene atmosphere, the mild zephyr, are the proper emblems of a gentle temper, and a peaceful life. Among the sons of strife all is loud and tempestuous.

CHAPTER II.

SCHEMES OF LIFE OFTEN ILLUSORY.

Omar, the son of Hassan, had passed seventy-five years in honor and prosperity. The favor of three successive caliphs had filled his house with gold and silver; and whenever he appeared, the benedictions of the people proclaimed his passage.

Terrestrial happiness is of short continuance. The brightness of the flame is wasting its fuel; the fragrant flower is passing away in its own odors. The vigor of Omar began to fail; the curls of

beauty fell from his head; strength

his hands, and agility from his feet.

departed from

He gave back to the caliph the keys of trust, and the seals of se◄ ◄ cresy; and sought no other pleasure for the remains of life, than the converse of the wise, and the gratitude of the good.

The powers of his mind were yet unimpaired. His chamber was filled by visitants, eager to catch the dictates of experience, and officious to pay the tribute of admiration. Caled, the son of the viceroy of Egypt, entered every day early, and retired late. He was beautiful and eloquent: Omar admired his wit, and loved his docility.

"Tell me," said Caled, "thou to whose voice nations have listened, and whose wisdom is known to the extremities of Asia, tell me how I may resemble Omar the prudent. The arts by which thou hast gained power and preserved it, are to thee no longer necessary or useful; impart to me the secret of thy conduct, and teach me the plan upon which thy wisdom has built thy fortune."

"Young man," said Omar, "it is of little use to form plans of life. When I took my first survey of the world in my twentieth year, having considered the various conditions of mankind, in an hour of solitude, I said thus to myself, leaning against a cedar, which spread its branches over my head: 'Seventy years are allowed to man: I have yet fifty remaining. Ten years I will allot to the attainment of knowledge, and ten I will pass in foreign coun

tries; I shall be learned, and therefore shall be honored; every city will shout at my arrival, and every student solicit my friendship. Twenty years thus passed, will store my mind with images, which I shall be busy, through the rest of my life, in combining and comparing. I shall revel in inexhaustible accumulations of intellectual riches; I shall find new pleasures for every moment; and shall never more be weary of myself. I will not, however, deviate too far from the beaten track of life, but will try what can be found in female delicacy. I will marry a wife beautiful as the Houries, and wise as Zobeide; with her I will live twenty years within the suburbs of Bagdat, in every pleasure that wealth can purchase, and fancy can invent. I will then retire to a rural dwelling; pass my days in obscurity and contemplation; and lie silently down on the bed of death. Through my life it shall be my settled resolution, that I will never depend upon the smile of princes; that I will never stand exposed to the artifices of courts; I will never pant for public honors, nor disturb my quiet with the affairs of state.' Such was the scheme of life, which I impressed indelibly upon my memory.

"The first part of my ensuing time was to be spent in search of knowledge, and I know not how I was diverted from my design. I had no visible impediments without, nor any ungovernable passions within. I regarded knowledge as the highest honor and the most engaging pleasure; yet day stole upon

day, and month glided after month, till I found that seven years of the first ten had vanished, and left nothing behind them. I now postponed my purpose of travelling; for why should I go abroad when so much remained to be learned at home? I immured myself for four years, and studied the laws of the empire. The fame of my skill reached the judges; I was found able to speak upon doubtful questions; and was commanded to stand at the footstool of the caliph. I was heard with attention; I was consulted with confidence; and the love of praise fastened on my heart.

"I still wished to see distant countries; listened with rapture to the relations of travellers; and resolved some time to ask my dismission, that I might feast my soul with novelty: but my presence was always necessary; and the stream of business hurried me along. Sometimes I was afraid lest I should be charged with ingratitude; but I still proposed to travel, and therefore would not confine myself by marriage.

"In my fiftieth year, I began to suspect that the time of travelling was past; and thought it best to lay hold on the felicity yet in my power, and indulge myself in domestic pleasures. But at fifty no man easily finds a woman beautiful as the Houries, and wise as Zobeide. I inquired and rejected, consulted and deliberated, till the sixty-second year made me ashamed of wishing to marry. I had now nothing left but retirement; and for retirement I never found