ldly
distinctions, if our habits and inclinations allowed us to pay the
immense price at which they must be purchased. True wisdom lies
in finding out all the advantages of a situation in which we _are_
placed, instead of imagining the enjoyments of one in which we are
_not_ placed.

Such philosophy is rarely found. The most perfect sample I ever met
was an old woman, who was apparently the poorest and most forlorn of
the human species--so true is the maxim which all profess to believe,
and which none act upon invariably, viz. that happiness does not
depend on outward circumstances. The wise woman, to whom I have
alluded, _walks_ to Boston, from a distance of twenty-five or thirty
miles, to sell a bag of brown thread and stockings; and then patiently
foots it back again with her little gains. Her dress, though tidy, is
a grotesque collection of 'shreds and patches,' coarse in the extreme.
'Why don't you come down in a wagon?' said I, when I observed that she
was soon to become a mother, and was evidently wearied with her long
journey. 'We h'an't got any horse,' replied she; 'the neighbors are
very kind to me, but they can't spare their'n; and it would cost
as much to hire one, as all my thread will come to.' 'You have a
husband--don't he do anything for you.' 'He is a good man; he does
all he can; but he's a cripple and an invalid. He reels my yarn, and
_specks_ the children's shoes. He's as kind a husband as a woman need
to have.' 'But his being a cripple is a heavy misfortune to you,'
said I. 'Why, ma'am, I don't look upon it in that light,' replied
the thread-woman; 'I consider that I've great reason to be thankful
he never took to any bad habits.' 'How many children have you?' 'Six
sons, and five _darters_, ma'am.' 'Six sons and five daughters! What
a family for a poor woman to support!' 'It's a family, surely, ma'am;
but there an't one of 'em I'd be willing to lose. They are as good
children as need to be--all willing to work, and all clever to me.
Even the littlest boy, when he gets a cent now and then for doing a
_chore_, will be sure and bring it to ma'am.' 'Do your daughters spin
your thread?' 'No, ma'am; as soon as they are old enough, they go out
to _sarvice_. I don't want to keep them always delving for me; they
are always willing to give me what they can; but it is right and fair
they should do a little for themselves. I do all my spinning after the
folks are abed.' 'Don't you think you should be better of