ulsive as it had been, touched a sealed spring of
enjoyment, and the waters that gushed instantly forth continued to flow
unceasingly.

Homeward the old man returned, and again he entered his library. Choice
works of art were all around him, purchased as a means of enjoyment.

They had cost thousands,--yet did they not afford him a tithe of the
pleasure he had secured by the expenditure of a single dollar. He could
turn from them with a feeling of satiety; not so from the image of the
happy child whose earnestly expressed wish he had gratified.

And not alone on the pleasure of the child did the thoughts of Mr.
Alexander linger. There came before his imagination another picture. He
saw a poorly furnished room, in which were a humble, toiling widow and
her children. It is keen and frosty without; and her eldest boy has
just come home from his work, shivering with cold. While he is warming
himself by the fire, his little sister presents him with the comforter,
the thick gloves, and the overshoes, which his benevolence has enabled
her to buy. What surprise and pleasure beam in the lad's face! How
happy looks the sister! How full of a subdued and thankful pleasure is
the mother's countenance.

And for weeks and months, did Mr. Alexander gaze, at times, upon this
picture, and always with a warmth and lightness of heart unfelt when
other images arose in his mind and obscured it.

And for a single dollar was all this obtained, while thousands and
thousands were spent in the fruitless effort to buy happiness.

Strange as it may seem, Mr. Alexander did not profit by this
lesson--grew no wiser by this experience. The love of self was too
strong for him to seek the good of others, to bless both himself and
his fellows by a wise and generous use of the ample means which
Providence had given into his hands. He still buys pictures and works
of art, but the picture in his imagination, which cost but a single
dollar, is gazed at with a far purer and higher pleasure than he
receives from his entire gallery of paintings and statues.

If Mr. Alexander will not drink from the sweet spring of true delight
that has gushed forth at his feet, and in whose clear waters the sun of
heavenly love is mirrored, we hope that others, wiser than he, will
bend to its overflowing brim, and take of its treasures freely.

THE END.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lessons in Life, For All Who Will Read
Them, by T. S. Ar