Few men who have hearts to feel for others but have been impelled, at some time in their lives, to seek aid for a fellow-creature in need.

That their office was a thankless one, they have too soon become aware.
Even those who responded to their call most liberally, in too many instances gave in a way that left an unpleasant impression behind.
How quickly has the first glow of generous feeling, that sought to extend itself to others, that they might share the pleasure of humanity, been chilled; and, instead of finding the task an easy one, it has proved to be hard, and, too often, humiliating! Alas, that this should be! That men should shut their hearts so instinctively at the voice of charity.
We have not written this to discourage active efforts in the benevolent; but to hold up a mirror in which another class may see themselves.

At best, the office of him who seeks of his fellow-men aid for the suffering and indigent, is an unpleasant one.

It is all sacrifice on his part, and the least that can be done is to honor his disinterested regard for others in distress, and treat him with delicacy and consideration.
GOING TO THE SPRINGS; OR, VULGAR PEOPLE.
"I SUPPOSE you will all be off to Saratoga, in a week or two," said Uncle Joseph Garland to his three nieces, as he sat chatting with them and their mother, one hot day, about the first of July.
"We're not going to Saratoga this year," replied Emily, the eldest, with a toss of her head.
"Indeed! And why not, Emily ?" "Everybody goes to Saratoga, now." "Who do you mean by everybody, Emily ?" "Why, I mean merchants, shop-keepers, and tradesmen, with their wives and daughters, all mixed up together, into a kind of hodge-podge.

It used to be a fashionable place of resort--but people that think any thing of themselves, don't go there now." "Bless me, child!" ejaculated old Uncle Joseph, in surprise.