Marriage.

Obituary.

Cave and Sever, Printers, 18, St. Ann's-street, Manchester.

CONTENTMENT is one of those things that are universally desired; and the realization of which is one of the grand objects of life. But what is Contentment? It is, in some respects, another word for happiness. It does not, however, imply full and complete happiness; it is rather partial or moderate happiness. It seems to be more applicable to us mortals than the word happiness; for, we have never heard of any one realizing a state of complete and unalloyed happiness, but many have arrived at a state of contentment. The former would seem to mean a state too pure and exalted for our present being, and can only be used comparatively. There are various terms which are employed to designate the several degrees of delight; such as pleasure, contentment, joy, happiness, and many others. It would be somewhat difficult to define exactly how much of delight each of these terms implies; for they are used so generally and so variedly, that an exact definition is next to impossible. Pleasure, however, generally means such delight as results from the senses; and also from frivolous mental gratification; such as arises from light and lively conversation, and books of a similar character. Pleasure is merely external delight. Joy implies a deeper seated kind, and generally comes from an agreeable settlement of some agitated subject. It is that kind of delight, too, which good men feel when they have enabled the miserable to emerge from their misery; and hence we are informed, that there is joy in heaven over the repentant sinner. Happiness, we have seen, cannot properly be applied to us here; it is the delight of heaven rather than of earth. Contentment is the peaceful and tranquil delight, which exists from the due appreciation of what we possess,-the absence of an anxious craving for something more, a lively satisfaction with the present, and a degree of hope for the future. These are the principal materials of contentment.

Now, why is it that, though so many are anxiously seeking after contentment, so very few find it? One reason is, because it is anxiously sought after. Anxiety and contentment are opponents to each other; and to seek after one with the other, is, in reality, to drive it from us. In fact, to seek singly after it at all, is not the way to find it. It always follows as a consequence, but is never arrived at as an end. Contentment is as incompatible with selfishness as it is with anxiety. They cannot dwell together. Now, if we propose contentment and comfort to ourselves, and for ourselves only, as an end and aim of life; this is selfishness, and of a subtile and dangerous kind too. In this case, our charity and our apparent virtues have really no reference to the good of others; self is the only object. We thus carry with us the very means which frustrate the end we proposed. It is unfortunate that the great truth is not better understood, that selfishness, in any form, is the destroyer of every thing really good. True blessings never come but by seeking to bless others. Men were never intended to live for themselves alone; their mental and bodily constitutions are evidences of this great fact. We are social beings, and should live together to promote each other's welfare, and strive to become one in heart, one in soul, and united as one man. It is, therefore, because we are out of the order of our being, when we seek after contentment for ourselves alone, that, we never find it.

We see no reason why we should not all be contented. There is certainly nothing in our nature to prevent it; nor is there any thing wanting on the part of a kind Providence. Every thing that we really can need is supplied to us. Have we not a beautiful world to live in? Is not this earth fruitful? and are not its prospects lovely? Is not the air we breathe sweet and refreshing? Are not those beings men; and may we not hope that they are, or would be, friends and kindly helpers? Are there not thousands of fields of duty, of usefulness, and of enjoyment? Yes, we have all these, and a thousand others, and we are capable of enjoying them all! They are adapted to our nature, and were created for us. It is true, that man's folly has marred the Creator's work; the social world has been sadly disarranged; but we are gradually regaining our lost ground. We may see, then, that there is nothing deficient in the works of God to make us contented.

The causes of discontentment lie entirely with ourselves; and one of the chief is, that we cherish an unsatisfied and unsatisfiable disposition. We are too much accustomed to despise what we have, and to be anxious for something we have not. There are some spirits who are ever grasping, but never attain,-ever seeking, but never find,-ever wish

ing, but never gratified. A thousand good things which Providence scatters in our paths, are either unseen or uncared for by them. This grasping, selfish spirit is our arch-enemy. It will always rob us of our peace. Whatever it may have, it will always be too little; nay, the very possession of what it once taught us to consider as the "highest good," but increases its discontent, and impels to fresh exertions to obtain more. It is truly "an appetite which increases by what it feeds on." There are many notable instances of this. Alexander, and Cæsar, and Napoleon, are considered as the very impersonations of boundless ambition. Each thirsted for dominion over a world; but when they were at the summit of their power, they were as unsatisfied as ever. And the reason was, because their desires were unsatisfiable. They harboured a devouring fire within their bosoms, which burst forth into new flames whenever the object of their ambition was acquired. This, too, is the experience of every one. The gratification of uncontrolled desires, but adds fuel to the fire, and leaves us even more unsatisfied. Surely these considerations are sufficient to cause us to pause, and see whether we have not already enough. Man's wants are really few; and "he is richest whose wants are fewest." "Luxury augments our wants, but moderation increases our means." We should not despise riches; but let us not make them our god. "If they increase, let us not set our hearts upon them," any more than is necessary to convert them into means of doing good. In fact, they are only valuable so far as they contribute to this end; if they terminate not in this, they are as valueless as the meanest material, and totally unworthy the gathering.

But some will ask,—“May we not endeavour to better our condition in the world?" Without doubt you may, provided you do yourselves no injury thereby. But it would not be very great wisdom to spend a life in the acquirement of a few thousands, and thereby destroy satisfaction and contentment of mind. It is true, that "rising in the world" does not necessarily imply a discontented state; it depends, of course, entirely upon the motive which actuates us. If we make " rising in the world" our only object of life, we shall always be immersed in trouble and anxiety; for in such case we shall be eternally struggling among the means, without ever attempting to accomplish a rational end. "Getting up in the world," is the acquirement of more extended means of doing something; but we cannot stop here, for this would never satisfy a rational man; there is no end gained. Means are mere lumber, unless they are used. Thousands of farthings are quite as valuable as thousands of gold, if they remain unemployed. Now, unless we are disposed to devote our means to some rational and good

object, we had better not acquire them at all. Increased means imply increased responsibility also. We cannot expect that that man who possesses every requisite in his own hands of extending blessings and comforts to his distressed and helpless neighbours, can be contented within himself, if he withhold these blessings. Could a man feel contented and pleased within himself, if he saw a man drowning and made no effort to rescue him, and yet had all the means in his power? The cases are parallel. Either conduct would be highly criminal; and in crime there is no contentment. It is curious to contemplate the reasons which seem to actuate people in "rising in the world." They have, for the most part, no motive beyond the mere amassing of money. And in this case, as in every other, the ruling motive is strong even in death.

Another great cause of discontent, is, that foolish looking forwards to a future period, which begets a wearisomeness of the present, and an habitual neglect to make the best of what is. This is the perversion of hope. It leads us to be ever expecting, but it never satisfies us; it tells us that there is something coming, but we never feel it. We make ourselves discontented to-day, because we hope to be contented to-morrow; but, when to-morrow comes, we find that it is still to-day; and we are as distant as ever from our expected satisfaction. Some men seem totally to disregard the present, and live altogether in the future. They appear to exist by anticipation. They have no idea of making life contented and happy as they go on, but they look forwards to a period when they can experience this without alloy. Others, again, tell us that we should never pretend to live here-never make a home of this world, but exist as solitary and weary pilgrims! and live only in heaven. We do not admire this philosophy. It is injurious to the Gospel doctrine of contentment, to teach men to look with distrust and suspicion on the present; for it necessarily engenders a discontented state. If we undermine a man's estimation of what is, how can we expect that he will improve what is to come? The superstructure which we hope to erect to-morrow, cannot be raised unless we lay a good foundation to-day. Now is the only time to make the future profitable. This day's work satisfactorily and well done, will lay the foundation of many bright days of cheerful contentment to come. It is most reasonable, that Providence intended us to look with other eyes than those of dislike and distrust upon what we possess here. We were not placed here to learn to dislike and distrust, but to know how to love, and to live, and to use. And this we can never do unless we prize the advantages we now possess, and feel less anxious for the future.