sometimes subsequent, but often original in its con ception. Like the tariff, the sinuosities of this systen, are understood but by a few, and realized by fewer still. From the manufacturer to the consumer, the tax, induced by the credit system, is increased; the latter consumes more freely because he buys on credit, extravagance usurps the place of economy and produces idleness; the retailer, who has imposed the last and largest tax, often finds nothing left with his customer, but the rags of the goods he has sold, and the carcase his, provisions have sustained. The officers of the law close the farce, by playing upon the rags and carcase with sundry paper implements, with results less curious and more expensive, than those of the galvanic battery upon a corpse. The consumer is the swivel link in the chain, the moment this swivel loses its head, by too much pressure and friction, the derangement commences. The links may be keyed together by delay, as the farmer keys his chain with wood, but the key soon wears out, and the last failure may be at a worse time and place than the first.

Debts contracted by borrowing, are more onerous, not to say, as many do, more honorable, than those incurred by purchase. The borrower becomes a bound slave to the lender, and places his heirs in the same situation. He goes to sea with a deck load, and little or no ballast in the hold, and a sudden squall of fortuitous wind, throws his craft on its beams ends, and often, the wreck but little more than pays the salvage of the court officers; lender and borrower are both carried into the breakers, and dashed on a lee barren shore, drenched and pennyless. We have hordes of small borrowers of money, who are the gad flies of

community. Each is satisfied with a drop, but their numbers are so great, that, if not guarded against by the fly net of resolution, they will weaken the system by their combined draughts. To ask for small debts, is painful to the lender, and is considered an insult to the borrower.

We have many who are prone to contract new debts, and lose sight of old ones. They are mere passengers in the life boat, and leave others to work at the oar, and furnish every thing. As time rolls on, the Statute of Limitation dims their vision: the Rubicon passed, the debts are cancelled. It is "a fair business transaction," say they, the law intervenes; abused confidence, honour, integrity, justice and conscience; have no part or lot in the matter. We will obey the law, "and make it honorable."

We have also another species of small borrowers, who may feel neglected if not noticed: those who borrow a bucket of coal, a piece of butter, a little meat, salt, pepper, flour, ginger, tea, coffee, milk, sugar, with a piece of candle, and a little of all the good things for the stomach, and sometimes, not so often, a piece of soap, wash basin, and towel. These borrowers have generally bad memories, and, if their memories serve them, their weights and measures are lessened by long use; or, perhaps they think it right to take toll enough to pay for running their borrowing machine.

So long as the pernicious credit system is the order of the day, monetary pressures, panics, convulsions, and revulsions will continue in our country; producing distress and ruin at each periodical return. Owe no man, is an injunction of Holy Writ, and, if not obeyed, like the violation of the other injunctions radiating from

that polar star to guide man to happiness and peace, the consequences are often disastrous.

DESPAIR.

A dark cold calm, which nothing now can break,
Or warm, or brighten-like that Syrian lake,

Upon whose surface morn and summer shed

Their smiles in vain-for all beneath is dead.-Moore.

No calamity can produce such paralysis of the mind, as despair. It is the cap stone of the climax of human anguish. The mental powers are frozen with indifference, the heart becomes ossified with melancholy, the soul is shrouded in a cloud of gloom. No words of consolation, no cheerful repartee, can break the deathlike calm no love can warm the pent-up heart, no sunbeams dispel the dark clouds. Time may effect a change; death will break the monotony. We can extend our kindness, but cannot relieve the victim. We may trace the causes of this awful disease; God only can effect a cure. We may speculate upon its nature, but cannot feel its force, until its iron hand is laid upon us. We may call it weakness, but cannot prove or demonstrate the proposition. We may call it folly, but can point to no frivolity to sustain our position. We may call it madness, but can discover no maniac actions. We may call it stubbornness, but can see no exhibitions of indocility. We may call it lunacy, but cannot perceive the incoherences of that unfortunate condition. We can call it, properly, nothing but dark, gloomy despair, an undefined and undefinable paralyzation of all the sensibilities that render a man happy,

and capable of imparting happiness to those around him. It is a state of torpid dormancy, rather than a mental derangement of the cerebral organs.

It is induced by a false estimate of things, and of the dispensations and government of the God of mercy. Disappointments, losses, severe and continued afflictions, sudden transition from wealth to poverty, the death of dear friends; may cast a gloom over the mind that does not correctly comprehend the great first cause, and see the hand of God in every thing; and produce a state of despair, because these things are viewed in a false mirror. Fanaticism in religious meetings has produced the most obstinate and melancholy cases of despair, that have come under my own observation. Intelligence, chastened by religion, are the surest safeguards against this state of misery; ignorance and vice are its greatest promoters. Despair is the destruction of all hope, the deathless sting, that refines the torment of the finally impenitent and lost. It is that undying worm, that unquenchable fire, so graphically described in Holy Writ.

Reader, if you desire an insurance against the iron grasp of despair, you can obtain it without money and without price, by applying to the immaculate Redeemer. He stands, with open arms, to receive, and keep in safety, all who believe in His name and put their trust in Him, for time and eternity. Then you may hope on and hope ever. Then you will have a sheet anchor to your soul, that will enable you to outride the storms of time, and at last, be moored in the haven of eternal rest.

E 2

DISCRETION.

THIS important principle is, wisdom applied to practice. It is one of those terms that many measure by the sliding scale, so much in use by those whose judgments are warped by circumstances, who are men of principle according to their own interest; whose consciences are as elastic as India rubber; who wind themselves up in self, like a cocoon, and run counter to the design of their creation; mere automatons in the scale of being, so far as usefulness is concerned. The party man deems it discreet to do all within his power to advance the interests of his party, right or wrong. The applicant for an office, in many instances, deems it discreet to resort to wire working, pipe laying, and all other means within the compass of his ingenuity, to accomplish his object. Many incumbents of elective offices, consider it discreet to use every exertion to make capital for their reëlection; others, who hold their places at the will of a superior, crouch and fawn, like spaniels, before their master.

Each religious sect is prone to deem it discreet to make all the proselytes in its power, seeming more anxious to increase numbers, than Christian graces, especially, when coldness has paralyzed the hearts of its members, and nothing but the form of godliness is left. The man of ambition deems it discreet to gratify his desires, by turning every occurrence to his advantage, that will forward his designs. The miser deems it discreet to hoard up his gold from every source from which it can be drawn; starve and freeze his body, and neglect the interests of his immortal soul. Some deem it discreet to use