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Perils of Prosperity.

Observe how seldom those who have enjoyed unvarying prosperity are considerate or compassionate. Note a wayside beggar, seated on the cold stones, starvation written upon his pallid face, his skeleton-like hand mutely extended for alms. Mark, how the pampered child of Fortune will rustle her rich silks, and sweep her soft velvets carelessly by him, with an abstracted look, or possibly with a slight shudder. But see how the weary, wan, poorly-clad seamstress stops and gives from her narrow store a mite, which will deprive her of some comfort she can ill forego. She knows the meaning of that look of misery, and spontaneously answers the voiceless appeal. Her humble gift may be injudicious, probably it is so, since it is given without due inquiry, but it was not on this ground that her opulent sister withheld a donation which would not have curtailed her least valued luxury. It was because she had not felt the gnawing fangs of want; because sorrow had not breathed upon and melted the ice in her soul; because prosperity had fossilized her heart. Well might the monitor-dramatist cry out:

"Take physic, Pomp!Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,That thou mayest shake the superflux to them,And show the heavens more just."

Could we still hope for, still seek for, still pray for this unclouded prosperity, if we believed that

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