Let it never come upon you. Live so that good angels may protect you from this terrible evil—the winter of the heart. Let no chilling influence freeze up the fountain of sympathy and happiness from its depths, no cool burden settle over its withered hopes, like snow on the faded flowers; no rude blasts of discontent moan and shriek through its desolate chambers. Your life path may lead you amid trials which for a time may seem entirely to impede your progress, and shut out the very light of heaven from your anxious gaze. Penury may take the place of ease and plenty; your luxurious home may be changed for a single lowly room; the soft couch for a straw pallet; the rich viands for the coarse food of the poor. Summer friends may forsake you, and the unpitying world pass with scarcely a word of compassion. You may be forced to toil wearily, steadily on to earn a livelihood; you may encounter fraud and base avarice, which would extort the last farthing, till you would nigh turn in disgust from your fellow beings. Death may sever the dear ties that bind you to earth, and leave you in fearful darkness. The noble, manly boy, the sole happiness of your declining years, may be taken suddenly from you, while your spirit clings to him with a wild tenacity, which even the shadow of the tomb cannot wholly subdue. But amid all these sad trials and sorrows, do not come to the conclusion that nobody was ever so deeply afflicted as you are, and abandon every sweet anticipation of "Better days" in the unknown future. Do not lose your faith in all excellence because your confidence has been betrayed; nor believe that friendship is only a delusion, and love a bright phantom which glides away from your grasp. Do not think you are fated to be miserable because you are disappointed in your expectations and baffled in your pursuit. Do not declare that God has forsaken you when your way is hedged with thorns, or repine sinfully when he calls your dear ones to the land beyond the grave. Keep a holy trust in heaven through every trial; bear adversity with fortitude, and look up in hours of temptation and suffering. When your locks are white, your eyes dim and your limbs weary—when your steps falter on the verge of death's gloomy vale, still retain the freshness and buoyancy of spirit which will shield you from the winter of the heart.—An Old Paper.