ted as a danger. It is only, when forgetful of the good of others, that it ceases to advance the true happiness of its possessor.

Hoarded up, what is wealth? A reproach to a rational being. A chain, binding the mind to low worldliness. A weight to the soul, when it separates from the clay, and goes to give account to God, in the day of judgment.

THE GREY COTTAGE.

THERE was a labouring man, who built a cottage for himself and wife. A dark grey rock overhung it, and helped to keep it from the winds.

When the cottage was finished, he thought he would paint it grey, like the rock. And so exactly did he get the same shade of colour, that it looked almost as if the little dwelling sprang from the bosom of the rock that sheltered it.

After a while the cottager became able to purchase a cow. In the summer, she picked up most of her own living very well. But in the winter, she needed to be fed and kept from the cold.

So he built a barn for her. It was so small, that it looked more like a shed than a barn. But it was quite warm and comfortable.

When it was done, a neighbour came in, and said, "what colour will you paint your barn?" "I had not thought about that," said the cottager." "Then I advise you, by all means, to paint it black; and here is a pot of black paint, which I have brought on purpose to give you."

Soon another neighbour, coming in, praised his neat shed, and expressed a wish to help him a little about his building. "White, is by far the most genteel colour," he added, "and here is a pot of white paint, of which I make you a present."

While he was in doubt, which of the gifts to use, the oldest and wisest man in the village came to visit him. His hair was entirely white, and every body loved him, for he was good as well as wise.

When the cottager had told him the story of the pots of paint, the old man said "he who gave you the black paint, is one who dislikes you, and wishes you to do a foolish thing. He who gave you the white paint, is a partial friend and desires you to make more show than is wise.

"Neither of their opinions should you follow. If the shed is either black or white, it will disagree with the colour of your house. Moreover, the black paint will draw the sun, and cause the edges of your boards to curl and split, and the white will look well for a little while, and then become soiled, and need painting anew.

"Now take my advice, and mix the black and white together." So the cottager poured one pot into the other, and mixed them up with his brushes, and it made the very grey colour, which he liked and had used before, upon his house.

He had in one corner of his small piece of ground, a hop-vine. He carefully gathered the ripened hops, and his wife made beer of them, which refreshed him when he was warm and

weary.

It had always twined around two poles, which he had fastened to the earth, to give it support. But the cottager was fond of building, and he made a little arbour for it to run upon, and cluster about.

He painted the arbour grey. So the rock, and the cottage, and the shed, and the arbour, were all of the same grey colour. And every thing around looked neat and comfortable, though it was small and poor.

When the cottager and his wife grew old, they were sitting together, in their arbour, at the sunset of a summer's day. A stranger who seemed to be looking at the country, stopped and inquired, how every thing around that small habitation happened to be the same shade of grey.

"It is very well it is so," said the cottager, "for my wife and I, you see, are grey also. And we have lived so long, that the world itself looks old and grey to us now."

Then he told him the story of the black and white paint, and how the advice of an aged man prevented him from making his little estate ridiculous when he was young.

"I have thought of this circumstance, so often, that it has given me instruction. He who gave me the black paint, proved to be an enemy; and he who urged me to use the white, was a friend. The advice of neither was good.

"Those who love us too well, are blind to our faults, and those who dislike us, are not willing to see our virtues. One would make us all

white; the other all black. But neither of them are right. For we are of a mixed nature, good and evil, like the grey paint, made of opposite qualities.

"If then, neither the counsel of our foes, nor of our partial friends, is safe to be taken, we should cultivate a correct judgment, which like the grey paint, mixing both together, may avoid the evil and secure the good."