the landscape proclaims the floating cloud between it and the sun. This, indeed, is true of every one to some extent. It is only with those who have lost the simplicity of childhood, and learned to practice the arts of deception, that the face ceases to be a true index of the mind;—fails to reveal by its changes the sunshine or gloom, the joy or sorrow, the peace or unrest that exists within.
And not only does the face reveal the transitory feelings, the changes of mental state, as from joy to sorrow, but it registers with fidelity those states which have become fixed and abiding. Let a person harbor for any considerable time melancholy thoughts and dark forebodings; let him indulge in poignant grief, in anxious fears or bitter repinings; let him encourage by indulgence the growth of an inordinate love of the world, a mean and miserly spirit, or a sour and misanthropic temper, and how surely will this confirmed habit of his soul imprint itself upon his countenance! Or let him, on the other hand, exercise the spirit of self-denial, let him repose calmly and trustingly on the Divine Providence, let him cultivate a cheerful and resigned disposition, cherish noble and unselfish aims, exercise himself habitually in kind and philanthropic deeds, and thus open his soul more and more to the influx of the Lord's unselfish love; and let this be continued for a series of years, and the heavenly quality of his inner man will be legibly inscribed upon his countenance. You will see the angel shining through. The light of heaven will sparkle in his eye, and the warmth of heaven will tinge his cheek with a lustre all its own; and this, too, in
