So interested are we all in our every-day pursuits; so given up,body and mind, to the attainment of our own ends; so absorbed by ourown hopes, joys, fears and disappointments, that we think rarely, ifat all, of the heart-histories of others—of the bright and sombrelife-pictures their eyes may look upon. And yet, every heart has itshistory: how sad and painful many of these histories are, let thedreamy eyes, the sober faces, the subdued, often mournful tones, ofmany that daily cross our paths, testify. An occasional remembranceof these things will cause a more kindly feeling towards others; andthis will do us good, in withdrawing our minds from too exclusivethoughts of self.
Whatever tends to awaken our sympathies towards others, to interestus in humanity, is, therefore, an individual benefit as well as acommon good. In all that we have written, we have endeavored tocreate this sympathy and awaken this interest; and so direct hasever been our purpose, that we have given less thought to thoseelegancies of style on which a literary reputation is often founded,than to the truthfulness of our many life-pictures. In thepreparation of this volume, the same end has been kept in view, andits chief merit will be found, we trust, in its power to do good.
T. S. A.
PHILADELPHIA, December, 1852.
"THERE is a book of record in your mind, Edwin," said an old man tohis young friend, "a book of record, in which every act of your lifeis noted down. Each morning a blank page is turned, on which theday's history is written in lines that cannot be effaced. This bookof record is your memory; and, according to what it bears, will yourfuture life be happy or miserable. An act done, is done forever;for, the time in which it is done, in passing, passes to return nomore. The history is written and sealed up. Nothing can ever blot itout. You may repent of evil, and put away the purpose of evil fromyour heart; but you cannot, by any repentance, bring back the timeth