There is a general, and alas! too true an outcry, that trouble is the lot of all, and that “man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward;” but let me ask, Is there not a vast amount made by ourselves? and do we not often take it up in anticipation, too often indulge and give way to it, when by cheerful resignation, we might, if not wholly avert, yet greatly nullify its power to mar our peace.  Mind, I now speak of self-created and minor troubles; not those coming immediately from God.  Are we not guilty of ingratitude in acting thus; in throwing away, or as it were thrusting from us the blessings he has sent—­merely by indulging in, or giving way to these minor trials.  It may be said of these sort of troubles, as of difficulties, “Stare them in the face, and you conquer them; yield to, and they overcome you, and form unnecessary suffering.”

If we could only consider a little when things annoy us, and reflect how much worse they might be, and how differently they would affect us even under less favourable circumstances than those in which we are placed; but instead of making the best of every thing, we only dwell on the annoyance, regardless of many extenuations that may attend it.

As one of the means to happiness, I would beg of you, my fair young Brides, not to fix too high a standard by which to measure either the perfections of your beloved partners or your own hopes of being happy.  Bear in mind that those to whom you are united are subject to the same infirmities as yourself.  Look well to what are your requirements as wives, and then prayerfully and steadily act up to them, and if your hopes are not built too high, you may, by acting rightly and rationally, find a well spring of peace and enjoyment that must increase.  Think what very proud feelings will be yours, to find you are appreciated and esteemed for the good qualities of the heart and endowments of the mind, and to hear after months of trial, the wife pronounced dearer than the bride.

Look around at the many who have entered the pale of matrimony before you, equally buoyant with hope; with the same loving hearts and the same bright prospects as you had,—­and yet the stern realities of life have sobered down that romance of feeling with which they started; yet they are perhaps more happy, though it is a quiet happiness, founded on esteem.  Oh, you know not the extent to which the conduct I have urged you to pursue, may affect your well-being, and that of him to whom you are united.

And now with the same greeting I commenced with, will I take my leave—­a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all, and may each succeeding return find you progressing in all that can give you peace and happiness, not only here but hereafter!

THE DYING HORSE.