SECTION XV.

On the Power of Cuflom, and the Ufes to which it may be applied.

THERE is not a common faying, which has a better turn of fenfe in it, than what we often hear in the mouths of the vulgar, that Custom is a fecond nature.' It is indeed able to form the man anew; and give him inclinations and capacities altogether different from thofe he was born with. A person who is addicted to play or gaming, though he took but little delight in it at first, by degrees contracts fo ftrong an inclination towards it, and gives himself up fo entirely to it, that it feems the only end of his being. The love of a retired or bufy life will grow upon a man infenfibly, as he is converfant in the one or the other, till he is utterly unqualified for relishing that to which he has been for fome time difufed. Nay, a man may fmoke, or drink, or take fnuff, till he is unable to pafs away his time without it; not to mention how our delight in any particular study, art, or fcience, rifes and improves, in proportion to the application which we beftow upon it. Thus, what was at firft an exercife, becomes at length an entertainment. Our employments are changed into diverfions. The mind grows fond of thofe actions it is accustomed to; and is drawn with reluctancy from thofe paths in which it has been used to walk.

If we attentively confider this property of human nature, it may inftruct us in very fine moralities. In the first place, I would have no man discouraged with

that kind of life, or feries of action, in which the choice of others, or his own necefsities, may have engaged him. It may perhaps be very difagreeable to him, at firft; but use and application will certainly render it not only less painful, but pleafing and fatisfactory.

In the fecond place, I would recommend to every one, the admirable precept, which Pythagoras is faid to have given to his disciples, and which that philosopher must have drawn from the observation I have enlarged upon : "Pitch upon that course of life which is the moft excellent, and custom will render it the most de lightful." Men, whofe circumftances will permit them to choose their own way of life, are inexcufable if they do not pursue that which their judgment tells them is the most laudable. The voice of reafon is more to be regarded, than the bent of any present inclination; fince, by the rule above mentioned, inclination will at length come over to reafon, though we can never force reason to comply with inclina tion.

In the third place, this obfervation may teach the most sensual and irreligious man, to overlook those hardfhips and difficulties, which are apt to difcourage him from the prosecution of a virtuous life. "The Gods," faid Hefiod, "have placed labour before virtue; the way to her is at firft rough and difficult; but grows more fmooth and eafy the farther we advance in it." The man who proceeds in it with steadiness and refolution, will, in a little time, find that "her ways are ways of pleasantnefs, and that all her paths are peace."

To enforce this confideration, we may further obferve, that the practice of religion will not only be

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attended with that pleasure, which naturally accompanies thofe actions to which we are habituated, but with thofe fupernumerary joys of heart, that rife from the confcioufnefs of fuch a pleasure; from the fatisfaction of acting up to the dictates of reafon; and from the profpect of a happy immortality.

In the fourth place, we may learn from this obfervation, which we have made on the mind of man, to take particular care, when we are once fettled in a regular courfe of life, how we too frequently indulge ourselves in even the most innocent diverfions and entertainments; fince the mind may infenfibly fall off from the relish of virtuous actions, and, by degrees, exchange that pleafure which it takes in the performance of its duty, for delights of a much inferior and an unprofitable

nature.

The laft ufe which I fhall make of this remarkable property in human nature, of being delighted with thofe actions to which it is accustomed, is, to show how abfolutely necessary it is for us to gain habits of virtue in this life, if we would enjoy the pleasures of the next. The ftate of blifs, we call Heaven, will not be capable of affecting thofe minds which are not thus qualified for it: we muft, in this world, gain a relish of truth and virtue, if we would be able to taste that knowledge and perfection, which are to make us happy in the next. The feeds of those fpiritual joys and raptures, which are to rife up and flourish in the foul to all eternity, must be planted in it during this its present state of probation. In fhort, heaven is not to be looked upon only as the reward, but as the natural effect, of a religious life.

ADDISON.

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The Pleafures refulting from a proper Ufe of our Faculties.

HAPPY that man, who, unembarrassed by vulgar cares, master of himself, his time, and fortune, spends his time in making himself wifer; and his fortune, in making others (and therefore himself) happier: who, as the will and understanding are the two ennobling faculties of the foul, thinks himfelf not complete, till his understanding is beautified with the valuable furniture of knowledge, as well as his will enriched with every virtue who has furnished himfelf with all the advantages to relith folitude and enliven converfation; who when ferious, is not fullen; and when cheerful, not indifcreetly gay; whofe ambition is, not to be admired for a falfe glare of greatnefs, but to be beloved for the gentle and sober luftre of his wifdom and goodnefs. The greatest minister of ftate has not more bufinefs to do, in a public capacity, than he, and indeed every other man, may find, in the retired and still fcenes of life. Even in his private walks, every thing that is vilible convinces him there is prefent a Being invisible. Aided by natural philofophy, he reads plain legible traces of the Divinity in every thing he meets he fees the Deity in every tree, as well as Mofes did in the burning bufh, though not in fo glaring a manner and when he fees him, he adores him with the tribute of a grateful heart.

SEED.

SECTION XVI.

Defcription of Candour.

TRUE candour is altogether different from that guarded, inoffenfive language, and that ftudied opennefs of behaviour, which we fo frequently meet with among men of the world. Smiling, very often, is the afpect, and smooth are the words, of those who inwardly are the most ready to think evil of others. That candour which is a Chriftian virtue, consists, not in fairness of speech, but in fairness of heart. It may want the blandishment of external courtesy, but fupplies its place with humane and generous liberality of fentiment. Its manners are unaffected, and its professions cordial. Exempt, on one hand, from the dark jealousy of a suspicious mind, it is no lefs removed, on the other, from that eafy credulity which is impofed on by every specious pretence. It is perfectly confiftent with extenfive knowledge of the world, and with due attention to our own safety. In that various intercourse, which we are obliged to carry on with perfons of every different character, fufpicion, to a certain degree, is a necefsary guard. It is only when it exceeds the bounds of prudent caution, that it degenerates into vice. There is a proper mean between undiftinguishing credulity, and univerfal jealousy, which a found understanding difcerns, and which the man of candour studies to preserve.

He makes allowance for the mixture of evil with good, which is to be found in every human character. He expects none to be faultlefs; and he is unwilling