with the feafon of youth does the peril to reafon or revelation. I know the end. To the impetuofity of youthful de- " courfe of life I am in is wrong; I know fire, fucceed the more fober, but no lefs" that I am engroffed by the world-that dangerous, attachments of advancing "I have no time for reflection, nor for the years; when the paffions which are con- "practice of many duties which I acnected with intereft and ambition begin "knowledge to be fuch. But I know not their reign, and too frequently extend their "how it is-I do not find that I can alter malignant influence, even over thofe periods "my way of living."-Thus they coolly of life which ought to be most tranquil. and contentedly give themselves up to a From the first to the laft of man's abode conftant courfe of diffipation, and a general on earth, the difcipline muft never be re- worthleffneís of character, which, I fear, is laxed, of guarding the heart from the do- as little favourable to their happiness here minion of paffion. Eager paffions, and or hereafter, as the occafional commiffion violent defires, were not made for man. of crimes at which they would fart They exceed his fphere: they find no and tremble. The habitual neglect of all adequate objects on earth; and of courfe that is most valuable and important, of can be productive of nothing but mifery. children, friends, fervants-of neighbours The certain confequence of indulging and dependants-of the poor-of Godthem is, that there fhall come an evil day, and of their own minds, they confider as when the anguish of disappointment fhall an excufable levity, and fatisfy themselves drive us to acknowledge, that all which with laying the blame on the manners of we enjoy availeth us nothing. the times. Blair. $104. Enthufiafm lefs pernicious to the Mind, than Coldness and Indifference in Religion. If a modern lady of fashion was to be time, I imagine her defence would run in called to account for the difpofition of her this ftyle: I can't, you know, be out "of the world, nor act differently from "every body in it. The hours are every "where late-confequently I rife late. I "have fcarce breakfafted before morning "vifits begin, or 'tis time to go to an "auction, or a concert, or to take a little "exercise for my health. Dreffing my "hair is a long operation, but one can't "appear with a head unlike every body "elfe. One mult fometimes go to a play, "or an opera; though I own it hurries "one to death. Then what with necef But whatever abfurdities may arife from the fancied ardours of enthusiafin, they are much less pernicious than the contrary extreme of coldness and indifference in religion. The spirit of chivalry, though it led to many romantic enterprizes, was nevertheless favourable to true courage, as it excited and nourished magnanimity and contempt of danger; which, though fometimes wafted in abfurd undertakings, were of the greatcft ufe on real and proper occafions. The nobleft energies of which fary vifits-the perpetual engagements we are capable, can scarcely be called out "to card-parties at private houfes-and without fome degree of enthusiasm, in "attendance on public affemblies, to whatever caufe we are engaged; and thofe "which all people of fashion subscribe, fentiments which tend to the exaltation of "the evenings, you fee, are fully difpofhuman nature, though they may often ex- "ed of. What time then can I poffibly cite attempts beyond the human powers, "have for what you call domeftic duties? will, however, prevent our flopping fhort "You talk of the offices and enjoyof them, and lofing, by careless indolence "ments of friendship-alas! I have no and felf-desertion, the greatest part of that "hours left for friends! I muft fee them ftrength with which we really are en. « in a crowd, or not at all. As to cultidued. "vating the friendship of my husband, we How common is it for those who profefs" are very civil when we meet: but we are (and perhaps fincerely) to believe with both too much engaged to spend much entire perfuafion the truth of the gospel, to" time with each other. With regard to declare that they do not pretend to frame their lives according to the purity of its moral precepts! I hope," fay they, "I am guilty of no great crimes: but the "cuftoms of the world in these times will "not admit of a conduct agreeable either "my daughters, I have given them a "French governefs, and proper mafters "I can do no more for them. You tell "me, I should inftruct my fervants"but I have not time to inform myself, "much lefs can I undertake any thing of "that "that fort for them, or even be able to "guefs what they do with themselves the greatest part of the twenty-four hours. "I go to church, if poffible, once on a Sunday, and then fome of my fervants "attend me; and if they will not mind "what the preacher fays, how can I help "it?-The management of our fortune, "as far as I am concerned, I must leave "to the fteward and housekeeper; for I find I can barely fnatch a quarter of an hour just to look over the bill of fare *when I am to have company, that they may not fend up any thing frightful or old-fashioned-As to the Chriftian duty of charity, I affure you I am not ill "natured; and (confidering that the great expence of being always dreft for com"pany, with loffes at cards, fubfcriptions, and public fpectacles, leave me very little to difpofe of) I am ready enough "to give my money when I meet with a "miferable object. You fay I should en"quire out fuch, inform myfelf thoroughly of their cafes, make an acquaintance "with the poor of my neighbourhood in "the country, and plan out the best "methods of relieving the unfortunate and afifting the induftrious. But this "fuppofes much more time, and much more money, than I have to bestow.-I have had hopes indeed that my fummers would have afforded me more leifure; "but we itay pretty late in town; then "we generally pafs feveral weeks at one or other of the water-drinking places, where every moment is spent in public; and, for the few months in which we "reâide at our own feat, our houfe is "always full, with a fucceffion of com"pany, to whofe amufement one is obliged "to dedicate every hour of the day." " moft cordial love is to conftitute your happinefs, where is the heart which thould enjoy this delightful intercourfe of affection? -Has your's been exercised and refined to a proper capacity of it during your ftate of difcipline, by the energies of generous friendship, by the meltings of parental fondnefs, or by that union of heart and foul, that mixed exertion of perfect friendship and ineffable tenderness, which approaches nearest to the full fatisfaction of our nature, in the bands of conjugal love?-Alas! you fcarce knew you had a heart, except when you felt it fwell with pride, or flutter with vanity!-Has your piety and gratitude to the Source of all Good, been exercifed and ftrengthened by conftant acts of praife and thanksgiving? Was it nourished by frequent meditation, and filent recollection of all the wonders he hath done for us, til! it burst forth in fervent prayer?-1 fear it was rather decency than devotion, that carried you once a week to the place of public worship-and for the reft of the week, your thoughts and time were fo very differently filled up, that the idea of a Ruler of the univerfe could occur but feldom, and then, rather as an object of terror, than of hope and joy. How then fhall a foul fo dead to divine love, fo loft to all but the most childish pursuits, be able to exalt and enlarge itself to a capacity of that blifs which we are allowed to hope for, in a more intimate perception of the divine prefence, in contemplating more nearly the perfections of our Creator, and in pouring out before his throne our ardent gratitude, love, and adoration ?—What kind of training is the life you have paffed through, for fuch an immortality? So here ends the account of that time which was given you to prepare and educate yourself for eternity-Yet you believe the immortality of the foul, and a fature ftate of rewards and punishments. Ak your own heart what rewards you deferve, or what kind of felicity you are fitted to enjoy Which of thofe faculties or affections, which heaven can be fuppofed to gratify, have you cultivated and improved?If, in that eternal world, the ftores of knowledge fhould be laid open before you, have you preferved that thirft of knowledge, or that tafte for truth, which is now to be indulged with endlefs information?-If, in the fociety of faints and angels, the pureft benevolence and And dare you look down with contempt on those whom trong temptation from natural paffions, or a train of unfortunate circumstances, have funk into the commiflion of what you call great crimes?--Dare you fpeak peace to your own heart, becaufe by different circumstances you have been preferved from them--Far be it from me to wish to leffen the horror of crimes; but yet, as the temptations to thefe occur but feldom, whereas the temptations to neglect, and indifference towards our duty, for ever furround us, it may be neceffary to awaken ourselves to fome calculation of the proportions between fuch habitual omiflion of all that is good, and the commiffion of more heinous acts of fin; between wafting our own life in what is falfely falfely called innocent amufement, and dif gracing it by faults which would alarm fociety more, though poffibly they might injure it lefs. Mrs. Chapone. $105. Of the Difference between the Extreme of Negligence and Rigour in Religion. How amazing is the distance between the extreme of negligence and felf-indulgence in fuch nominal Chriftians, and the oppofite excess of rigour which fome have unhappily thought meritorious! between a Pafcal (who dreaded the influence of pleafure fo much, as to wear an iron, which he preffed into his fide whenever he found himfelf taking delight in any object of fenfe) and those who think life lent them only to be fquandered in fenfelefs diver fions, and the frivolous indulgence of vanity! what a frange compofition is man! ever diverging from the right line -forgetting the true end of his being or widely mistaking the means that lead to it. If it were indeed true that the Supreme Being had made it the condition of our future happiness, that we should spend the days of our pilgrimage here on earth in voluntary fuffering and mortification, and a continual oppofition to every inclination of nature, it would furely be worth while to conform even to thefe conditions, however rigorous and we fee, by numerous examples, that it is not more than human creatures are capable of, when fully perfuaded that their eternal interefts demand it. But if, in fact, the laws of God are no other than directions for the better enjoyment of our existence-if he has forbid us nothing that is not pernicious, and commanded nothing that is not highly advantageous to us-if, like a beneficent parent, he inflicts neither punishment nor conAtraint unneceffarily, but makes our good the end of all his injunctions-it will then appear much more extraordinary that we fhould perverfely go on in conftant and acknowledged neglect of thofe injunc tions. Is there a fingle pleasure worthy of a rational being, which is not, within certain limitations, confiftent with religion and virtue? And are not the limits, within which we are permitted to enjoy them, the fame which are preferibed by reafon and nature, and which we cannot exceed without manifest hurt to ourselves, or others?It is not the life of a hermit that is enjoined us: it is only the life of a rational being, formed for fociety, capable of continual improvement, and confequently of continual advancement in happiness. Sir Charles and Lady Worthy are neither gloomy afcetics, nor frantic enthufiafts; they married from affection no long acquaintance, and perfect efteem; they therefore enjoy the beft pleasures of the heart in the highest degree. They concur in a rational scheme of life, which, whilft it makes them always chearful and happy, renders them the friends of human-kind, and the bleffings of all around them. They do not defert their station in the world, nor deny themfelves the proper and moderate ufe of their large fortune; though that portion of it, which is appropriated to the ufe of others, is that from which they derive their higheft gratifications. They fpend four or five months of every year in London, where they keep up an intercourse of hofpitality and civility with many of the moft refpectable perfons of their own, or of higher rank; but have endeavoured rather at a felect than a numerous acquaintance; and as they never play at cards, this endeavour has the more eafily fucceeded. Three days in the week, from the hour of dinner, are given up to this intercourfe with what may be called the world. Three more are spent in a family way, with a few intimate friends, whofe taftes are conformable to their own, and with whom the book and workingtable, or fometimes mufic, fupply the intervals of useful and agreeable converfation. In thefe parties their children are always prefent, and partake of the improvement that arifes from fuch fociety, or from the well-chofen pieces which are read aloud. The feventh day is always spent at home, after the due attendance on public worship; and is peculiarly appropriated to the religious inftruction of their chil dren and fervants, or to other works of charity. As they keep regular hours, and rife early, and as Lady Worthy never pays or admits morning vifits, they have feven or eight hours in every day, free from all interruption from the world, in which the cultivation of their own minds, and those of their children, the due attention to health, to economy, and to the poor, are carried on in the most regular manner. Thus, even in London, they contrive, without the appearance of quarrelling with the world, or of fhutting themselves up from it, to pass the greatest part of their ! time in a reasonable and ufeful, as well as an agreeable manner. The rest of the year they spend at their family feat in the country, where the happy effects of their example, and of their aiduous attention to the good of all around them, are still more obfervable than in town. Their neighbours, their tenants, and the poor, for many miles about them, find in them a fure refource and comfort in calamity, and a ready affiftance to every fcheme of honeft induftry. The young are inftructed at their expence, and under their direction, and rendered ufeful at the earliest period pothble; the aged and the fick have every comfort administered that their ftate requires; the idle and diffolute are kept in awe by vigilant infpection; the quarrelfome are brought, by a fenfe of their own intereft, to live more quietly with their family and neighbours, and amicably to refer their difputes to Sir Charles's decifion. This amiable pair are not lefs highly prized by the genteel families of their Reighbourhood, who are fure of finding in their house the most polite and chearful hospitality, and in them a fund of good fenfe and good humour, with a conftant difpofition to promote every innocent plea fure. They are particularly the delight of all the young people, who confider them as their patrons and their oracles, to whom they always apply for advice and affiftance in any kind of diftrefs, or in any scheme of analement. Sir Charles and Lady Worthy are feldon without fome friends in the houfe with them during their stay in the country; but, as their methods are known, they are never broken in upon by their guests, who do not expect to fee them till dinner-time, except at the hour of prayer and of breakfft. In their private walks or rides, they fually visit the cottages of the labouring poor, with all of whom they are perfonally acquainted; and by the fweetness and fieadlinefs of their manner, as well as by their beneficent actions, they fo entirely poffefs the hearts of thefe people, that they are made the confidants of all their family grievances, and the cafuifts to fettle all their fcruples of confcience or difficulties in conduct. By this method of converfing freely with them, they find out their different characters and capacities, and often dicover and apply to their own benefit, as well as that of the perfon they diftin guish, talents, which would otherwise have been for ever loft to the public. From this flight sketch of their manner of living, can it be thought that the practice of virtue cofts them any great facrifices? Do they appear to be the fervants of a hard mafter?—It is true, they have not the amufement of gaming, nor do they curfe themselves in bitterness of foul, for lofing the fortune Providence had beftowed upon them: they are not continually in public places, nor tifled in crowded affemblies; nor are their hours confumed in an infipid interchange of unmeaning chat with hundreds of fine people who are perfectly indifferent to them; but then, in return, the Being whom they ferve indulges them in the best pleasures of love, of friendship, of parental and family affection, of divine beneficence, and a piety, which chiefly confifts in joyful acts of love and praife!-not to mention the delights they derive from a taste uncorrupted and ftill alive to natural pleafures; from the beauties of nature, and from cultivating thofe beauties joined with utility in the fcenes around them; and above all, from that flow of fpirits, which a life of activity, and the conftant exertion of right affections, naturally produce. Compare their countenances with thofe of the wretched flaves of the world, who are hourly complaining of fatigue, of liftleffnefs, diftate, and vapours; and who, with faded cheeks and worn-out conftitutions, ftill continue to haunt the scenes where once their vanity found gratification, but where they now meet only with mortification and difguft; then tell me, which has chofen the happier plan, admitting for a moment that no future penalty was annexed to a wrong choice? Liften to the character that is given of Sir Charles Worthy and his Lady, wherever they are named, and then tell me, whether even your idol, the world, is not more favourable to them than to you. Perhaps it is vain to think of recalling thofe whom long habits, and the eftablished tyranny of pride and vanity, have almoft precluded from a poffibility of imitating fuch patterns, and in whom the very defire of amendment is extinguished; but for those who are now entering on the stage of life, and who have their parts to choose, how earneftly could I wish for the fpirit of perfuafion-for fuch a warning voice" as fhould make itfelf heard amida all the gay gay buftle that surrounds them! it should cry to them without ceafing, not to be led away by the crowd of fools, without knowing whither they are going-not to exchange real happiness for the empty name of pleasure not to prefer fashion to immortality-and, not to fancy it poffible for them to be innocent, and at the fame time useless. Mrs. Chapone. § 106. Virtue Man's true Interest. I find myself existing upon a little fpot, furrounded every way by an immenfe unknown expanfion-Where am I? What fort of place do I inhabit? Is it exactly accommodated, in every inftance, to my convenience? Is there no excefs of cold, none of heat, to offend me? Am I never annoyed by animals, either of my own kind, or a different? Is every thing fubfervient to me, as though I had ordered all myfelf?-No-nothing like it-the fartheft from it poffible.-The world appears not, then, originally made for the private convenience of me alone?-It does not.But is it not poffible fo to accommodate it, by my own particular induftry? If to accommodate man and beaft, heaven and earth, if this be beyond me, 'tis not poffible-What confequence then follows? or can there be any other than this-If I feek an interest of my own, detached from that of others, I feek an intereft which is chimerical, and can never have existence? How then must I determine? Have I no intereft at all?—If I have not, I am a fool for ftaying here. 'Tis a fmoky houfe; and the fooner out of it the better.-But why no intereft?-Can 1 be contented with none, but one feparate and detached? Is a focial intereft, joined with others, fuch an abfurdity as not to be admitted?-The bee, the beaver, and the tribes of herding animals, are enow to conceive me, that the thing is fomewhere at leaft poffible. How, then, am I affured that 'tis not equally true of man?-Admit it; and what follows? If fo, then honour and juftice are my intereft; then the whole train of moral virtues are my intereft; without fome portion of which, not even thieves can maintain fociety. But, farther ftill-I ftop not here-I purfue this focial intereft, as far as I can trace my feveral relations. I pass from my own ftock, my own neighbourhood, my own nation, to the whole race of mankind, as difperfed throughout the earth. -Am I not related to them all by the mutual aids of commerce, by the general intercourse of arts and letters, by that common nature of which we all participate? Again-I must have food and cloathing-Without a proper genial warmth, I inftantly perifh-Am I not related, in this view, to the very earth itself? to the diftant fun, from whofe beams I derive vigour? to that ftupendous course and order of the infinite host of heaven, by which the times and feafons ever uniformly pafs on?-Were this order once confounded, I could not probably furvive a moment; fo abfolutely do I depend on this common general welfare.-What, then, have I to do, but to enlarge virtue into piety? Not only honour and juftice, and what I owe to man, is my intereft; but gratitude alfo, acquiefcence, refignation, adoration, and all I owe to this great polity, and its greater governor our common parent. Harris. § 107. On Gratitude. There is not a more pleasing exercise of the mind, than gratitude. It is accompanied with fuch inward fatisfaction, that the duty is fufficiently rewarded by the performance. It is not like the practice of many other virtues, difficult and painful, but attended with fo much pleasure, that were there no pofitive command which enjoined it, nor any recompence laid up for it hereafter-a generous mind would indulge in it, for the natural gratification that accompanies it. If gratitude is due from man to manhow much more from man to his Maker? The Supreme Being does not only confer upon us thofe bounties which proceed more immediately from his hand, but even thofe benefits which are conveyed to us by others. Every blaffing we enjoy, by what means foever it may be derived upon us, is the gift of Him who is the great Author of good, and Father of mercies. If gratitude, when exerted towards one another, naturally produces a very pleafing fenfation in the mind of a grateful man; it exalts the foul into rapture, when it is employed on this great object of gratitude, on this beneficent Being, who has given us every thing we already poffefs, and from whom we expect every thing we yet hope for. Moft of the works of the Pagan poets were either direct hymns of their deities, or tended indirectly to the celebration of |