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ISHOP HALL said, "For every bad there might be a worse; and when a man breaks his leg, let him be thankful it is not his neck." Into what insignificance a misfortune, we bewailed as unendurable, suddenly sinks when compared with the crushing calamity that desolates the home of a friend! The hill-fire, whose far-shining signal light warns an army of the approach of a foe, fades into a mere rush-candle when contrasted with the angry jets of liquid flame leaping from the heart of Vesuvius, and threatening incalculable destruction. Beauty is heightened or eclipsed, size magnified or diminished, color changed, sound altered, the sense of pain or pleasure intensified or deadened, by contrast.

We were once forcibly struck by the philosophy of a friend who had disciplined herself, whenever she was assailed by a crowd of tantalizing vexations, or oppressive troubles, to compare her trials with the severer affliction of some greater mourner, and to ejaculate, mentally, "It might be worse!"

With that reflection came a sense of thankfulness that she had been spared a superlative evil; pa-