TUE POWER OF IABIT. a79

ing as a sort of simile or parable. The central station
on the mountain may be resembled to middle life.
With what different feelings is this regarded by those
who bask in the sunshine of opulence, and those who
shrink under the cold blasts of penury !

“Suppose the wealthy duke, our neighbour, were
suddenly obliged to descend to our level, and live as
we do—to part with all his carriages, sell his coach-
horses and hunters, quit his noble seat with its fine
park and gardens, dismiss all his train of servants ex-
cept two or three, and take a house like ours. What
a dreadful fall would it seem to him! how wretched
would it probably make him, and how much would he
be pitied by the world!

“On the other hand, suppose the labourer who lives
in the next cottage were unexpectedly to fall heir to
an estate of a few hundreds a year, and in consequence
to get around him all the comforts and conveniences
that we possess—a commodious house to inhabit, good
clothes to wear, plenty of wholesome food and firing,
servants to do all the drudgery of the family, and the
like ;—how all his acquaintance would congratulate
him, and what a paradise would he seem to himself to
be got into! Yet he, and the duke, and ourselves,
are equally men, made liable by nature to the same
desires and necessities, and perhaps all equally strong
in constitution, and equally capable of supporting hard-
ships. Is not this fully as wonderful a difference in
fecling as that on crossing the Andes ?”’

“Tndeed it is,” said William.

“And the cause of it must be exactly the same—
the influence of habit.”

“7 think so.”

“Of what importance, then, must it be towards a
happy life, to regulate our habits so that in the pos-
sible changes of this world we may be more likely to
be gainers than losers!” ;

“But how can this be done? Would it be right
for the duke to live like us, or us like the labourer P”’