nged by his agency into a fit subject for the abodes of
evil spirits in hell.

THE MEANS OF ENJOYMENT.

One of the most successful merchants of his day was Mr. Alexander. In
trade he had amassed a large fortune, and now, in the sixtieth year of
his age, he concluded that it was time to cease getting and begin the
work of enjoying. Wealth had always been regarded by him as a means of
happiness; but, so fully had his mind been occupied in business, that,
until the present time, he had never felt himself at leisure to make a
right use of the means in his hands.

So Mr. Alexander retired from business in favour of his son and
son-in-law. And now was to come the reward of his long years of
labour. Now were to come repose, enjoyment, and the calm delights of
which he had so often dreamed. But it so happened, that the current of
thought and affection which had flowed on so long and steadily, was
little disposed to widen into a placid lake. The retired merchant must
yet have some occupation. His had been a life of purposes, and plans for
their accomplishment: and he could not change the nature of this life.
His heart was still the seat of desire, and his thought obeyed,
instinctively, the heart's affection.

So Mr. Alexander used a portion of his wealth in various ways, in order
to satisfy the ever-active desire of his heart for something beyond what
he had in possession. But, it so happened, that the moment an end was
gained--the moment the bright ideal became a fixed and present fact, its
power to delight the mind was gone.

Mr. Alexander had some taste for the arts. Many fine pictures already
hung upon his walls. Knowing this, a certain picture-broker threw
himself in his way, and, by adroit management and skilful flattery,
succeeded in turning the pent-up and struggling current of the old
gentleman's feelings and thoughts in this direction. The picture-dealer
soon found that he had opened a new and profitable mine. Mr. Alexander
had only to see a fine work of art to desire its possession; and to
desire was to have. It was not long before his house was a gallery of
pictures.

Was he any happier? Did these pictures afford him a pure and perennial
source of enjoyment? No; for, in reality, Mr. Alexander's taste for the
arts was not a passion of his mind. He did not love the beautiful for
its own sake. The delight he experienced when he looked upon a fine
painting was mainly the desire of possession; and satiety s