Thus, for instance, the covetous man grasps, and saves, and fills his coffers--for what? Not to make himself, his family, or his poor neighbours round him, happy with the fruits of his penurious efforts. No--he not only turns a deaf ear to the piercing cries of indigence, but grudges even his family the common necessaries of life, and never parts with a farthing, without uttering some ridiculous complaint of the hardness of the times, and their want of economy. He saves therefore for the sake of saving; his heart is shut up in his chest with his beloved mammon, both alike inaccessible to the mild and soft approaches of kindness and liberality. We cannot but shrink back with horror, from a character so odious and detestable as this. But the observation with which I set out, will hold equally true, when applied to any of those false paths, which men pursue in quest of happiness. Pleasure and ambition will deceive them, as surely as avarice. Enjoyment in every instance may pall, but cannot satisfy the restless desire. Nor will it ever be satisfied, till the soul gets sight of the only true beatifying object in the universe, to which she can rise, and upon which she can rest, with the whole strength and energy of her immortal nature. The light of another world, however, must open and irradiate her spiritual senses, before she can have the least glimpse of this supreme source of bliss. The vanity and deception of all creaturely happiness must in some measure be unfolded to her view, before she can stretch one feeble thought towards Heaven; and she must be intimately convinced of the bondage of her fallen life, and the misery of her condition in this fallen world, before she can feel the force, or discern the spiritual depth of these expressions of St. Peter, "Lord! to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life."