Correspondence.

Extract from a letter written by a father to his daughter, while she was absent on a journey, after the death of a lovely boy.

MY DEAR CHILD:

Aug. 28.

I RECEIVED last evening your husband's letter of the 23d instant, and was glad you had got thus far on your journey; and that your trouble on your way was less than you expected. My fond wishes attend you, that all the evils of life may thus disappoint you, as I am sure our happiness in the next, if we conduct well in this, will exceed our most unbounded expectations.

Though these small occurrences gave me pleasure, it would have been very greatly increased, had he informed me your spirits revived, and the beauties of Nature had called forth a more cheerful enjoyment of the sweets that surround you. I did hope and I yet hope, they will have that happy effect before you return, or I should not have advised to the jaunt, but should rather wished you to stay at home, that I might have mourned

with you the separation of the moment, not the loss, of your darling boy. I know the luxury of wo has many charms for the feeling mind, and I believe when it is enjoyed in reason, it seems to soften and compose. The luxuries of life, if only now and then enjoyed, are undoubtedly desirable, and perhaps innocent; but when indulged intemperately, we all know the pleasure soon cloys, and the most fatal consequences ensue. So the superior luxury which proceeds from virtuous grief, when separated by the grave from those we love, if indulged to excess, preys upon the spirits, destroys our usefulness in life, undermines the vital principle, and conveys us to the grave, to rest with our friends there. But this entirely frustrates the designs of a merciful God, who sends afflictions that we may know how to conduct in life, not to force us out of it; that we may see the insufficiency of every thing here below to produce real happiness, and to wean us from sublunary things; that we may be prepared for that substantial happiness, which awaits the virtuous in a better world. And to desert our post because difficulties attend us; and to refuse the comforts offered us on our journey because they are not equal to the elegancies we have at home, would be condemn

Almighty friend sees

ed by every thinking person. It is easier to advise than to practice; but I nevertheless do not expect you will retort upon me. My judgment tells me it is right to submit implicitly to whatever our fit to bring us in life. He is our friend, and most assuredly orders the occurrences of our life for our best good; and although now we see it not, yet at the last it will most fully appear. If therefore we cannot now see, let us learn to believe and trust. Trust whom? Not an Almighty, inflexible Being, who from eternity appoints his creatures to misery. Such a Being all might fear, but none could love! No: a Being whose goodness is every where displayed; "who willeth not the death of a sinner," nor unnecessary distress to any of his creatures, for his tender mercies are over all his works. The lovely babe we deplore has, by submitting to death, paid all that was demanded for the transgression of our first parents, and having none of his own to account for, was, through the mercy of our Saviour, received to a share in his glory, and is now singing hosannas with our blessed friends in heaven.

I hope you will not disappoint my expectations; that you will recall that cheerful deportment which rendered you agreeable to

all

your friends. Remember you have a tender husband, who justly loves you, and mourns with you; a darling child still remaining; a father, much of whose hope of comfort in life leans upon you; and many friends, who esteem and love and draw much of their com

fort from you. These, to whose happiness you can so essentially contribute, demand your attention. But to the cherub, if your indulgence of grief can have any effect, it must be to lessen his happiness! And if to give is more blessed than to receive, it certainly is more blessed to give than to take away from the happiness of any one.

The power of benevolence you have not lost; and there are more avenues from that source than the bare bestowment of money. To give comfort and happiness to your friends and connexions, by enjoying it yourself, may justly be placed to that account. I entreat you, therefore, to exert yourself, and disappoint me not in this my wish and just expectation. I could write a volume, were it necessary, on the excellent lesson conveyed in the beautiful fable of the 'Hermit,' but you know it already; and if you have not before, I hope you will now indulge reflections on it something like those; for they will serve to

reconcile you to the doings of that God who cannot do wrong. Remember, to enjoy is to obey; but to reject the blessings offered may be the means of their being withheld. And although those justly-beloved comforts may be hidden from us for a moment, if we submit without repining, and enjoy those that remain with gratitude to the benevolent Giver, the time will come when they shall be brought again to our view and society, beautiful as angels, and the enjoyment of them shall be durable as eternity.

I have to inform you of the death of professor T*****, which took place yesterday morning. He was a worthy man, and is now gone to receive his reward. I expect you will write soon, yourself; and let me see, by the contents, that though the mother and the friend may feel, yet the christian can suffer with resignation, fortitude and hope; and that your aspirations after heaven, and the desire of possessing it, are increased by every deprivation you are called to suffer on earth; knowing they are appointed by your Father in heaven, who loves you more than your truly affectionate father on earth. J. B