Innocence confers ease and freedom on. leaves it open to every pleasing sensation.

the mind;

Moderate and simple pleasures relish high with the te perate in the midst of his studied refinements, the vol tuary languishes.

Gentleness corrects whatever is offensive in our manner and, by a constant train of humane attentions, studies alleviate the burden of common misery.

That gentleness which is the characteristic of a good ma has, like every other virtue, its seat in the heart and, me add, nothing except what flows from the heart, can re der even external manners truly pleasing.

Virtue, to become either vigorous or useful, must be ha itually active: not breaking forth occasionally with a tra sient lustre, like the blaze of the comet; but regular in i returns, like the light of day: not like the aromatic gale which sometimes feasts the sense; but like the ordinar breeze, which purifies the air, and renders it healthful.

The happiness of every man depends more upon the state of his own mind, than upon any one external circumstance nay, more than upon all external things put together.

In no station, in no period, let us think ourselves secure from the dangers which spring from our passions. Every age, and every station they beset; from youth to gray hairs, and from the peasant to the prince.

Riches and pleasures are the chief temptations to criminal deeds. Yet those riches, when obtained, may very possibly overwhelm us with unforseen miseries. Those pleasures hay cut short our health and life.

He who is accustomed to turn aside from the world, and commune with himself in retirement, will, sometimes at least, hear the truths which the multitude do not tell him. A more sound instructor will lift his voice, and awaken within the heart those latent suggestions, which the world had over powered and suppressed.

Amusement afton

we should often ha nem peopled with the vicums of intemperance and sensuality, and with the children of vicious indolence and sloth.

To be wise in our own eyes, to be wise in the opinion of the world, and to be wise in the sight of our Creator,are three things so very different, as rarely to coincide.

Man, in his highest earthly glory, is but a reed floating on the stream of time, and forced to follow every new direction of the current.

selves for another world, by neglecting the concerns of this. Reveal none of the secrets of thy friend. Be faithful to his interests. Forsake him not in danger. Abhor the thought of acquiring any advantage by his prejudice.

Man, always prosperous, would be giddy and insolent; always afflicted, would be sullen or despondent. Hopes and fears, joy and sorrow, are, therefore, so blended in his life, as both to give room for worldly pursuits, and to recall, from time to time, the admonitions of conscience.

SECTION IV.

TIME once past never returus: the moment which is lost, is lost forever.

There is nothing on earth so stable, as to assure us of undisturbed rest; nor so powerful, as to afford us constant protection.

The house of feasting too often becomes an avenue to the house of mourning. Short, to the licentious, is the interval between them.

It is of great importance to us, to form a proper esitmate of human life; without efther loading it with imaginary evils, or expecting from it greater advantages than it is able to yield.

Among all our corrupt passions, there is a strong and intimate connexion. When any one of them is adopted into our family, it seldom quits us until it has fathered upon us all its kindred.

Charity, like the sun, brightens every object on which it shines; a

the darkus diposition casts every character into

the darkest shade it will bear.

Many men mistake the love, for the practice of virtue ; and are not so much good men, as the friends of goodness. Genuine virtae has a language that speaks to every heart throughout the world. It is a language which is understood by all. In every region, every clime, the homage paid to it is the same. In no one sentiment were ever mankind more generally agreed.

The appearances of our security are frequently deceitful. When our sky seems most settled and serene, in some unobserved quarter gathers the little black cloud in which the tempest ferments, and prepares to discharge itself on our hepa.

me man of true fortitude may be compared to the castle b on a rock, which defies the attacks of surrounding the man of a feeble and timorous spirit, to a

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placed on the shore, which every wind shakes, and every wave overflows.

Nothing is so inconsistent with self-possession as violent anger. It overpowers reason; confounds our ideas; dis torts the appearance, and blackens the colour of every object. By the storms which it raises within, and by the mischiefs which it occasions without, it generally brings on the passionate and revengeful man, greater misery than he can bring on the object of his resentment.

The palace of virtue has, in all ages, been represented as placed on the summit of a hill; in the ascent of which, labour is requisite, and difficulties are to be surmounted; and where a conductor is needed, to direct our way, and to aid our steps.

In judging of others, let us always think the best, and employ the spirit of charity and candour. But in judging of ourselves, we ought to be exact and severe.

Let him, that desires to see others happy, make haste to give while his gift can be enjoyed; and remember, that every moment of delay takes away something from the value of his benefaction. And let him who proposes his own anniness reflect, that while he forms his purpose, the day rolls on, and the night cometh, when no au can work."

To sensual persons, hardly any thing is what it appears to be and what flatters most, is always farthest from reality. There are voices which sing around them; but whose strains allure to ruin. There is a banquet spread, where poison is in every dish. There is a couch which invites them to repose; but to slumber upon it, is death.

If we would judge whether a man is really happy, it is not solely to his houses and lands, to his equipage and his retinue we are to look. Unless we could see further, and discern what joy, or what bitterness, his heart feels, we can pronounce little concerning him.

The book is well written; and I have perused it with pleasure and profit. It shows, first, that true devotion is rational and well founded; next, that it is of the highest importance to every other part of religion and virtue; and, fastly, that it is most conducive to our happiness.

to

te

There is certainly no greater felicity, than to be able to look back on a life usefully and virtuously employe race our own progress in existence, by such tokens a neither shame nor sorrow. It ought therefore to be t f those who wish to pass the last hours with core ure of pleasing ideas, as shall supe.

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expenses of that time which is to depend wholly upon the fund already acquired

SECTION V.

WHAT avails the show of external liberty, to one who has lost the government of himself?

He that cannot live well to-day, (says Martial,) will be less qualified to live well to-morrow.

Can we esteem that man prosperous, who is raised to a situation which flatters his passions, but which corrupts his principles, disorders his temper, and, finally, oversets his virtue ?

What misery does the vicious man secretly endure!—Adversity how blunt are all the arrows of thy quiver, in comparison with those of guilt!

When we have no pleasure in goodness, we may with eertainty conclude the reason to be, that our pleasure is al derived from an opposite quarter.

How strangely are the opinions of men altered, by a change in their condition!

How many have had reason to be thankful, for being disappointed in designs which they earnestly pursued, but which, if successfully accomplished, they have afterwards seen, would have occasioned their ruin!

What are the actions which afford in the remembrance a rational satisfaction? Are they the pursuits of sensual pleas ure, the riots of jollity, or the displays of show and vanity P No: I appeal to your hearts, my friends, if what you recollect with most pleasure, are not the innocent, the virtuous. the honourable parts of your past life.

The present employment of time should frequently be an object of thought. About what are we now busied ? What is the ultimate scope of our present pursuits and cares? Can we justify them to ourselves? Are they likely to produce any thing that will survive the moment, and bring forth som fruit for futurity ?

Is it not strange, (says an ingenious writer,) that som. persons should be so delicate as not to bear a disagreeabl picture in the house, and yet by their behaviour, force ever face they see about them, to wear the gloom of uneasines and discontent ?

If we are now in health, peace, and safety; without an particular or uncommon evils to afflict our condition; who more can we reasonably look for in this vain and uncerta world? How little can the greatest prosperity add to suck

J

state? Will any future situation ever make us happy, if now, with so few causes of grief, we imagine ourselves miserable? The evil lies in the state of our mind, not in our condition of fortune; and by no alteration of circumstances is likely to be remedied.

When the love of unwarrantable pleasures, and of vicious companions, is allowed to amuse young persons, to engross their time, and to stir up their passions; the day of ruin,— let them take heed and beware! the day of irrecoverable ruin begins to draw nigh. Fortune is squandered; health is broken; friends are offended, affronted, estranged; aged parents, perhaps, sent afflicted and mourning to the dust.

On whom does time hang so heavily as on the slothful and lazy? to whom are the hours so lingering? Who are so often devoured with spleen, and obliged to fly to every expedient, which can help them to get rid of themselves? Instead of producing tranquility, indolence produces a fret. ful restlessness of mind; gives rise to cravings which are never satisfied; nourishes a sickly effeminate delicacy, which sours and corrupts every pleasure.

SECTION VI.

We have seen the husbandman scattering his seed upon the furrowed ground! it springs up, is gathered into his barns, and crowns his labours with joy and plenty. Thus the man, who distributes his fortune with generosity and prudence, is amply repaid by the gratitude of those whom he obliges; by the approbation of his own mind, and by the favour of Heaven. Temperance, by fortifying the mind and body, leads to happiness intemperance, by enervating them, ends generally in misery.

Title and ancestry render a good man more illustrious; bat an ill one, more contemptible. Vice is infamous, though in prince; and virtue honourable though in a peasant.

An elevated genius, employed in little things, appears (to ise the simile of Longinus) like the sun in his evening delination, he remits his splendour, but retains his magnitude: and pleases more, though he dazzles less.

و

If envious people were to ask themselves, whether they yould exchange their entire situation with the persons envi(I mean their minds, passions, notions, as well as their rsons, fortunes, and dignities,)-I presume the self-love, smmon to human nature, would generally make them pretheir own condition.

We have obliged some persons: very well! what would