We may notice a third class, who give themselves to tricks, fortune telling, and opening books, to discover the events of futurity. Their spirits vary with the supposed indications of good or evil occurrences. "A lady, who moved in the first circles, was once visiting in a clergyman's family of my acquaintance," says the late Rev. Bernard Whitman, "and it was her regular morning custom to toss up a little box of pins, and make her happiness for the day depend upon their accidental variation in falling. If they came down more heads than points, she was cheerful and happy; but if more points than heads, she was gloomy and wretched. It seemed she valued her comfort, worth at least a brass pin." Many a worthy Christian has not only been deprived of his happiness, but betrayed into wild, extravagant, and even sinful acts, by attempting to follow the suggestion of the passage which first meets his eye on opening the Bible. Many a poor wight has formed a disadvantageous matrimonial alliance, because some old hag has described black eyes and rosy cheeks as the characteristics of his future bride. We may notice, moreover, a fourth class, who are forever anticipating some dreadful calamity. Let any fool solemnly proclaim that war, famine, or pestilence is approaching, and they will give more heed to it than to that holy word which assures us that our heavenly Father will never leave nor forsake us. All uncommon appearances in the heavens they look upon as indications of the threatened judgments of an angry God. Even the beautiful Aurora Borealis, which spans the blue concave above us, was so interpreted. To permit such fears to disturb and destroy our happiness is a sin against Heaven. Our heavenly Father created us for enjoyment. He has furnished us with capacities and means of felicity. He has even commanded us to rejoice in the Lord always. He has given us a religion to effect this desirable object. It is as much a part of this religion to be always cheerful, contented, and happy, as to be always temperate, just, and virtuous. And if people would take one tenth part of the pains to make themselves happy that they do to render themselves miserable, there would be ten times the present amount of happiness. "By the grace of God," says the Rev. John Wesley, "I never fret. I repine at nothing; I am discontented at nothing. And to have persons at my ear fretting and murmuring at every thing is like tearing the flesh from off my bones. I see God sitting upon his throne, and ruling all things well." A companion of Mr. Wesley says that he never saw him low-spirited in his life, nor could he endure to be with an unhappy, melancholic person. "Every believer," he often remarked, "should enjoy life." "I dare no more fret," said he, "than curse or swear." Would that all Christians were as cheerful and consistent as Mr. Wesley. There would be less of dark and dismal forebodings; less of distrust, and more of solid peace and comfort, in the soul. It seems