But to return to this kind neighbor.  She had a little old book in her hand, the covers of which were worn out by much use.  When she saw the blind woman ready to faint, she would read her a few words out of this book, such as the following:  “Blessed are the poor in spirit; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”  “Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be comforted.”  “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.”  “For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory;” and one of these little promises operated like a cordial on the sufferer.

THE CLERGYMAN.

A pious minister sinking under the weight of a distressed parish, whose worldly wants he was totally unable to bear, was suddenly relieved by a good widow, who came up, and took all the sick and hungry on her own shoulders.  The burden of the parish thus divided became tolerable.  The minister being no longer bowed down by the temporal distresses of his people, applied himself cheerfully to his own part of the weight.  And it was pleasant to see how those two persons, neither of them very strong, or rich, or healthy, by thus kindly uniting together, were enabled to bear the weight of a whole parish; though singly, either of them must have sunk under the attempt.  And I remember one great grief I felt during my whole journey was, that I did not see more of this union and concurring kindness, by which all the burdens might have been easily divided.  It troubled me to observe, that of all the laws of the valley, there was not one more frequently broken than the law of kindness.

THE NEGROES.

I now spied a swarm of poor black men, women, and children, a multitude which no man could number; these groaned, and toiled, and sweated, and bled under far heavier loads than I had yet seen.  But for a while no man helped them; at length a few white travellers were touched with the sorrowful sighing of those millions, and very heartily did they put their hands to the burdens; but their number was not quite equal to the work they had undertaken:  I perceived, however, that they never lost sight of these poor, heavy-laden wretches; and as the number of these generous helpers increased, and is continually increasing, I felt a comfortable hope, that before all the blacks got out of the valley, the whites would so apply themselves to the burden, that the loads would be effectually lightened.

Among the travellers, I had occasion to remark, that those who most kicked and struggled under their burdens, only made them so much the heavier; for their shoulders became extremely galled by these vain struggles.  The load, if borne patiently, would in the end have turned even to the advantage of the bearers—­for so the Lord of the valley had kindly decreed; but as to these grumblers, they had all the smart and