JAN. VII.

The Pleasures of Winter.

EACH season has its peculiar pleasures and beauties. Winter itself, void as it appears to many, of charms or pleasures, answers the Creator's end in that respect. For the sake of those who, through ignorance or prejudice, murmur against this season, I will display the pleasure it affords, both to our senses and to our hearts. Is it not an agreeable sight to behold the morning dawn shining on a country covered with snow? The thick fog, which, like a veil over the earth, concealed every object from us, vanishes all at once. A light frost whitens the tops of the trees. The little hills and valleys are tinged with the bright reflection of the sun, whose happy influ. ence gives new life to every creature. It seems to invite the linnet to quit the groves, and the sparrow to perch from branch to branch.

In proportion as nature seemed dead in the absence of the sun, so much the more lively she appears, when animated by it; and she delights the eyes of the traveller with her white clothing. Have you ever happened to remark the form of the snow? Have you reflected on the wonders which a single flake of this substance contains!~ Admire, on one hand, the regularity, the symmetry of its form, and, on the other, the infinite number of the same flakes which fall from the air...What an agreeable sight, to see the hill, the forest, and the groves, clothed with a dazzling splendour! What a charm results from the assemblage of all these objects! Behold! (for the eye can scarce have enough of this sight, however accustomed to it), behold the brilliant dress of those hedges! behold the forests bending un.

der the white sheet which covers them! The whole offers to our view the appearance of a vast desert, over which one uniform veil of a dazzling whiteness extends itself. What idea shall I form of those, who, at the sight of these phenomena, feel nothing; or, who do not conceive the pleasing sensations that the Creator meant to convey to them? They who do nothing at this moment but murmur against the laws of nature, how much are they to be pitied! If the prospect of nature in winter gives them no pleasure, I fear they will be equally insensible, even to the spring, with all its charms. How is it possible not to feel how gracious the Lord is! How adorable his wisdom, and how unbounded his mercy, in all that relates to winter! Nature, however barren it appears to us, is, notwithstanding, a divine master-piece; and it is our blindness only which conceals its beauty from us. In every part of nature there shines some ray of the divine wisdom, and still more in what is concealed from us. We do not trace her through all her ways, and we are only attentive to what strikes our senses, and flatters our inclination: and, in this respect, many are like the brutes, who see the sun, the snow, and the other phenomena of na. ture, without looking up to the Lord, as the source from whence all things proceed in heaven and on earth.

With what satisfaction will every ones mind be filled, who accustoms himself to contemplate, with attention, the works of God, at this season of the year. The air may be troubled, the sky become stormy, and nature spoiled of its charms; but they will enjoy true pleasures in discovering throughout all things, traces of the wisdom, power, and goodness, of our great Creator. However limited their natural faculties may be, they will always find subjects enough to employ their minds. They will have no occasion to seek with

eagerness the dissipations of the world, the amusements of dancing and play. They will find, either in retirement, or in the midst of their friends and children, pleasures ever real, and ever varied.

O my soul apply thyself to the enjoyment of these pleasures. Let the works of God often employ thy thoughts, and these reflections will soften the sorrows of life. Raise thyself to God by that chain of beings he has created, and let him be at all times and seasons the object of thy praise.

JAN. VIII.

Vegetables which preserve their Verdure in Winter.

THE earth may now be compared to a mother who has been robbed of those children from whom she had the best hopes. She is desolate and deprived of the charms which varied and embellished her surface. However, she is not robbed of all her children. Here and there some vegetables are still to be seen, which seem to defy the severity of the winter. Here the wild. hawthorn shews its purple berries; and the laurestina displays its blossoms in clusters, crowned with leaves which never fade. The yew-tree rises like a pyramid, and its leaves preserve their verdure. The weak ivy still creeps along the walls, and clings immoveable, while the tem pest roars around it. The laurel extends its green branches, and has lost none of its summer ornaments. The humble box shews, here and there, in the midst of the snow, its evergreen branches. These trees, and some others besides, preserve their verdure in the coldest climates, and in the severest seasons. They are emblemsof the durable advantages which he possesses, whose mind is cultivated, and whose temper is

sweet and serene. The splendour of dress, which only dazzles the eyes of the vulgar, is a trifling and transient splendour. The most brilliant complexion will fade, and all outward beauty is of short duration; but virtue has charms which survive every thing. The man who fears the Lord, is "like a tree planted by the side of a rivulet. It grows and flourishes, and its branches extend far off. It bears fruit in due season, and its leaves fade not. It refreshes him who seeks its shelter, and the traveller blesses it."

What a delightful image is this of a pious man! He borrows not his value from the exterior and arbitrary goods of fortune. His true ornaments are in himself. The storms of adversity may sometimes shake him, but they cannot overpower him; and he soon rises again above the stormy regions. If he is reduced by misfortune to po verty, he is still rich in possession of the favour of God, a good conscience, and the hope of a blessed immortality.

This meditation leads me to the idea of a bene. volent old man. In the winter of his life, he resembles the plants which preserve their verdure, even in that season of life. How many storms of fortune has he supported with constancy! How many attracting objects has he seen wither! He yet exists, while most of those of his time have disappeared. A mild cheerfulness is seen in him, the happy remains of his spring. However wrinkled his forehead may be, whatever ravages the hand of time has imprinted upon his body, he is still adorned with virtues which make amends for the loss of exterior charms. He grows young again in his children; and his wisdom, his inte grity, his great experience, serve still for exam. ples and lessons to all around him.

Oh! may the winter of my life resemble this. May I, after having lost all those charms of youth, and of a riper age, which I have boasted of, may I blossom again in my old age, like a fertile tree,

and inspire, by my virtues, veneration and love! Shortly will the beauty of my body fade, like a summer flower. Happy, then, if I have no reason to regret the loss of it. Happy, if I find myself adorned with those attractions which have their source from wisdom and virtue, and which will not wither, even in the grave!

JAN. IX.

The singular state of Man when asleep.

IN order to know the omnipotence and wisdom of God, we need not have recourse to extraor. dinary events. The most common things, the daily changes which happen in nature, and in our own bodies, are alone sufficient to convince us, in the strongest manner, that it is a Being, in. finite in wisdom, goodness, and power, who has created the world, and who directs every event in it. Of the great number of wonders of which he is author, I will now mention one only; and though it happens daily, it does not the less deserve to be remarked, and to become the object of our admiration. How often have those been refreshed and recruited by sleep, who possibly have never reflected on that state; or, at least, have never considered it as one of the remark. able effects of divine goodness! They think that nothing extraordinary happens when balmy sleep comes upon them. They think the machine, their body, is formed for that situation, and that their inclination to sleep proceeds from causes purely

natural.

But perhaps sleep may be considered in two different lights. On one side, there is nothing in it which may not result necessarily from our nature. On the other, there is in this natural effect something so striking and wonderful, that