How often in this life are we inclinad to trifle with those whose love is the dearest object of our existence. How often does foolish pride or a wicked desire to show our independenee, tempt us to scorn the kind offices of our best friends. How often does the heart, turned against its idol by some real or fancied grievance, repel all tb e advances, refuse to accept the explanation, or even the Lu miliating acknowledgments of an error committed by tbat idol, thinking, perhaps, that it has humbled itself thus far it may be induced to creep in the dust before the virtuous (?) indignation of tbat self-willed, stony heart. And how oftea does some little look or word of reproof, although we know well enough that it is iatended only for our good, cause a coldncss to arise betwecn us and those who are everything to us, shutting out the bright sunlight from our minds, leaving us in darkness bordering on despair. - Oh ! who can live without love ! Boast if you will, yöuc independenee; proud, haughty mortal ; tho time comes when you must see your folly ; ivhen you must acknowledge tïiat help from others is not to bo disdained, possibly you might get sick, will not then the kind words of sympathy and tho soft hand that soothes your fevered brow be acceptable ? And perhaps you may be called to die, will not the hand that wipes the death damp from your brow, and closes your glazed eye, be a precious boon ? Then scorn not affection but seek after it early and late. Strive to so live that every one may prize your acquaintanee. Above all, do not keep at a discance from you those who would love you if they were permifted.