212
sciatica
put increasing each time in length and
strength, and if neglected, a permanent
care is hopeless. Then the unhappy
victim goes through life, cheering none
with the sunshine of her smiles, nor
gladdening them with the music of kind
and gentle words. Need I say that this
disease is Ill Nature !

It is with pain that I recall the days

of my earliest childhood—those days |

rendered dark and sad by my unhappy
temper—and yet it is sorrow mingled
with thankfulness. It is like the memory
which the traveler has of dangers pass-
ed. He shudders at the recollection
of the wild screeching winds, the dark
heavens, the tossing ocean, the almost
sinking ship; but he loves to remember
that the winds were hushed, the ocean
lulled, that the stars shone out from be-
yond the clouds, and that the dismasted
ship, with its weary crew, found at last
a safe haven.

It is like the memory of sick and fee-
ble days, which were followed by those
of health and strength, the gloomy night
which preceded a bright morning, or the
frightful dream from which there was a
glad awaking. ,

You have all of you, my children,
heard of the river Lethe, which the an-
cients believed really existed, and whose
waters they thought could cause forget-
fulness ; and had I only the memory of
those unhappy days, I should indeed
wish it were not all a fable, and that I
might drink from that very river. How
little a child thinks that every wrong act
may become a life memory, and that by
her thoughtlessness, she is furnishing
bitter food for after years. 1 cannot tell
you how many wretched hours I have
had, surrounded by everything beautiful,

 

THE YOUTH’S CABINET.

but outward circumstances do little to-
ward promoting the happiness of one
who does not cultivate a sweet temper.

You must not think I was always
under the influence of these feelings.
When everything was just as I wished,
I could appear as amiable as any one,
but in this world, where our favorite
plans are often frustrated, and our fond-
est hopes blighted, we must learn to
smile amid disappointment and vexation.
Ihave told you that every indulgence
strengthened these feelings, and that I
was conscious that my sad infirmity was
increasing. You have read in your his-
tory, that one of the customs of the
Egyptians was to introduce at their gay-
est festivals, a skeleton, the sight of
which ofter changed their mirth to
gloom; and thus the knowledge that at
any moment I might do and say what
could not be recalled, destroyed my
peace. I resolved to attempt a reform-
ation, but made many ineffectual efforts.
Sometimes days would pass without my
exhibiting any symptoms of this disease,
for disease I must still call it, and then in
an unguarded moment the angry word
was spoken. At last, after many fail-
ures, I began to hope I was completely
cured—I had been severely tested, I had
seen a beautiful china cup, the gift of a
friend, fall from the hand of a careless
servant, and gathered up the fragments
without uttering a word. I found my
little brother, one cold morning, warm-
ing my beautiful wax doll by the fire,
and though the tears came as | gazed
at its disfigured face, I suppressed the
angry word which rose to my lips. I
patiently repeated, again and again, @
difficult passage.in my music, though it
was tedious, and I was anxious to play 4