JANUARY VII.

The Beauties of the Winter.

EVERY season has its peculiar pleasures and beauties; and however destitute of charms winter may appear to some people, it has still a portion to interest the feelings. For the benefit of those who, from prejudice and ignorance, murmur and repine against this season, I will here enumerate some of the particular pleasures which it offers us.

How delightful is the face of nature when the morning light first dawns upon a country embosomed in snow! The thick mist which obscured the earth, and concealed every object from our view, at once vanishes. How beautiful are the tops of the trees, hoary with frost! The hills and the valleys, reflecting the sun-beams, assume various tints: all nature is animated by the genial influence of the bright luminary, which now invites the warbling songsters from the groves to make jocund the day with their harmonious notes. If nature, during the absence of the sun, droops and is overspread with gloom; when the horizon is again illumined with cheering rays she resumes her wonted gaiety, and, robed in white, delights the traveller with her novel and delicate appearance. How beautiful to see the white hills, the forests, and the groves, all sparkling! What a delightful combination these objects present! Observe the brilliancy of those hedges! See the lofty trees bending beneath their dazzling burthen! The surface of the earth appears one vast plain mantled in white and splendid array.

Little, indeed, are the feelings of those to be envied upon whom these grand phenomena make no impression; beings who can contemplate with indifference a spectacle which ought to gladden their hearts and fill their souls with the majesty of heaven,

and the boundless wisdom and immeasurable goodness of an all-powerful God. Such reflections, arising from the contemplation of his works, always produce satisfaction and delight. The heavens may lower, the agitation of the air portend a storm, and nature, losing her sweetest attractions, appear bleak, wild, and desolate; yet the soul, retiring within itself, derives energy and an exalted pleasure in tracing, by his works, the power, the wisdom, and benignity of the Godhead.

JANUARY VIII.

Of the Vegetables which preserve their Verdure through the Winter.

AT this season of the year the earth, losing the variety of charms which so lately beautified her surface, seems solitary and destitute; and may be compared to a tender mother, who has been bereft of her dearest children, and is seen to mourn and lament. But she is not deprived of all her offspring; here and there plants are seen to brave the rigours of winter, and by their verdure relieve the sterility of the scene. Here the hawthorn's tempting berries offer the feathered race a sweet repast; the ever-verdant laurustinus now delights with its clustering flowers; and the never-fading yew-tree forms a dark shade. The creeping ivy still winds round the mouldering battlements, and defies the whistling wind and the storm's loud roar; the laurel blooms with verdure undiminished; and the lowly box looks green above the snow. These, with many other plants, preserve their verdant hue amid every severity of season and rigour of climate. They may present a pleasing emblem of the ever-durable advantages he possesses, whose mind is amply stored, and whose amiable disposition makes

all around him smile with joy and pleasure. The splendour of dress, and the profusion of ornaments, which dazzle and fascinate the weak and the vulgar, are vain and transitory; colours that vie with the rainbow in brilliancy fade; the pride of youth, beauty smiling with every grace and symmetry of form, flutter awhile amid the sun-beams, and are seen no more; but the charms of virtue last for ever. The man who fears God "resembles a tree which, planted on the banks of a rivulet, as it grows to maturity expands, and stretches forth its branches far round with unfading verdure, and produces its fruits in season; it offers an ever-refreshing shade, and the weary traveller blesses it."

How amiable is the truly pious man! His ornaments are within, and his virtue shines forth with beauty unborrowed of the external and adventitious smiles of fortune. The storms of adversity may shake, but can never overpower him; though for a moment cast down, his bold front soon towers above the tempest. If misfortune darkens his horizon, and poverty frowns, he is still blessed with riches that wealth cannot purchase the love of God, a good conscience, and the bright hope of a glorious immortality.

This reflection leads me to the idea of a benevolent old man, who in the winter of his life resembles those plants which at that season still preserve their verdure. How many storms of fortune has he not braved with constancy! How many dear attracting objects have withered in his sight! He yet exists, whilst many of his contemporaries are mingled with the silent dust. A mild cheerfulness still plays on his cheeks. Though his forehead be wrinkled, and the strong hand of time mark his venerable countenance, and render feeble his frame, his virtues recompense his lost vigour, he lives again in his offspring, and his wisdom, his integrity, and his experience, are held up as a noble example to his children's children.

JANUARY IX.

Singular State of Man during Sleep.

We need not have recourse to extraordinary events to be convinced of the inconceivable power and wisdom of God; we have only to look around us. He shines conspicuously in the least of his works. Of the many remarkable things of which he is the author, I wish to call your attention to one, which, because it daily occurs, is not the less deserving of your observation. Often as you have been refreshed by sleep, perhaps you have never reflected upon this singular state, nor regarded it as one of the most extraordinary effects of Divine goodness. When sleep overpowers us with a pleasing forgetfulness, we do not think it wonderful; we believe our body is formed for such a state, and that the inclination, prompting us to indulge in sleep, proceeds from natural causes. But perhaps we may with propriety consider sleep under two points of view. On the one hand there is nothing to be observed which may not result from the peculiar nature of our organisation; on the other, there is something so striking and wonderful in this natural effect, that any labour bestowed upon the consideration of it will be amply compensated.

Sleep comes upon us imperceptibly; if we endeavour to ascertain the exact moment, the attention we give will be an obstacle to its approach; nor shall we be able to sleep till all such ideas are dissipated. Sleep comes unsolicited; the more efforts we make to obtain it, the less likely are we to succeed. God has so appointed sleep, that it becomes an agreeable necessity; and he has rendered it independent of our reason and of our will. Let us pursue this consideration, and muse upon the wonderful state we are in during sleep. We live without being conscious of our existence. The functions all act with their wonted

regularity. The activity of the soul, for a space, seems to be suspended; the senses are benumbed, the muscles inactive, and all voluntary motion has ceased. In short, the state of sleep is truly wonderful, and very much resembles that of death: who can think of sleep without being at the same time reminded of death; which, sooner or later, will imperceptibly steal upon us, or seize us without warning, unwished for and unexpected?

The senses, whose functions are suspended during sleep, are equally incapable of action at the near approach of death. The ideas also are clouded; we notice not surrounding objects, and a dark oblivion veils our faculties. Let devotion often present this meditation to our minds. Whenever we seek for repose upon the downy pillow, let us reflect upon the blessings of sleep, and look up with gratitude to Him, who, during our seclusion from toil and labour, watches over our slumbers, and preserves from danger our helpless condition. For, if a protecting hand did not shield us, to how many perils might we not be subjected during the night-season!

JANUARY X.

Of the Advantages of our Climate.

HAVE we a proper sense of the great happiness which we enjoy in so many respects? The blessings of our Heavenly Father are every-where poured out upon us. The view of ample forests, of the rising hills, and the extended meadows; the pure and temperate breezes we inhale, the seasons, with their accompanying variations, and different attractions, all denote the unspeakable beneficence of God, and his wish for the happiness of man. How then can we ever complain of the hardness of our condition, accuse