fream when it is fwoln by the torrent, and ruffled by the winds; the other refembles it when running within its bed, with its natural force and velocity. The influence of temper is more filent and imperceptible than that of paffion; it operates with lefs violence ; but as its operation is conftant, it produces effects no les confiderable. It is evident, therefore, that it highly deferves to be confidered in a religious view.

Many, indeed, are averfe to behold it in this light. They place a good temper upon the fame footing with a healthy conftitution ef body. They confider it as a natural felicity which fome enjoy; but for the want of which, others are not morally culpable, nor accountable to God: and hence the opinion has fometimes prevailed, that a bad temper might be confiftent with a state of grace. If this were true, it would overturn that whole doctrine, of which the gofpel is fo full, that regeneration, or change of nature, is the effential characteristic of a Chriftian.' It would fuppofe that grace might dwell amidst malevolence and rancour, and that heaven might be enjoyed by fuch as are ftrangers to charity and Love.It will readily be admitted that fome, by the original frame of their mind, are more favourably inclined than others, towards certain good difpofitions and habits. But this aford's no juffification to those who neglect to oppofe the corruptions to which they are prone. Let no man imagine, that the human heart is a foil altogether unfufceptible of culture! or that the worft temper may not, through the affiftance of grace, be reformed by attention and difcipline. Settled depravity of temper, is always owing to our own indulgence. If, m place of checking, we nourish that maligwas of difpofition to which we are inclined, all the confequences will be placed to our account,

and every excufe, from natural constitution, be rejected at the tribunal of Heaven. Blair. 8

28. That Difcipline which teaches to moderate the Eagerness of worldly Paffions, and to fortify the Mind with the Principles of Virtue, is more conducive to true Happiness than the Poffeffion of all the Goods of Fortune.

That difcipline which corrects the eagerness of worldly paffions, which fortifies the heart with virtuous principles, which enlightens the mind with useful knowledge, and furnishes to it matter of enjoyment from within itself, is of more confequence to real felicity, than allthe provifion which we can make of the goods of fortune. To this let us bend our chief attention. Let us keep the heart with all diligence, feeing out of it are the iffues of life. Let us account our mind the most important province which is committed to our care; and if we cannot rule fortune, ftudy at leaft to rule ourselves. Let us propofe for our object, not worldly fuccefs, which it depends not on us to obtain, but that upright and honourable difcharge of our duty in every conjuncture, which, through the divine affiftance, is always within our power. Let our happiness be fought where our proper praise is found; and that be accounted our only real evil, which is the evil of our nature; not that which is either the appointment of Providence, or which arifes from the evil of others.

Ibid.

the minds of men, and to draw them from that favage rufticity which engenders many vices, and difcredits the virtues themfelves. But when men had experienced the benefit of this complying temper, and further faw the ends, not of charity only, but of felf-intereft, that might be anfwered by it; they confidered no longer its juft purpose and application, but ftretched it to that officious fedulity, and extreme fervility of adulation, which we too often obferve and lament in polished life.

Hence, that infinite attention and confideration, which is fo rigidly exacted, and fo duly paid, in the commerce of the world: hence, that proftitution of mind which leaves a man no will, no fentiment, no principle, no character; all which disappear under the uniform exhibition of good manners: hence, thofe infidious arts, thofe ftudied difguifes, thofe obfequious flatterers, nay, thofe multiplied and nicely-varied forms of infinuation and addrefs, the direct aim of which may be to acquire the fame of politenefs and good-breeding, but the certain effect, to corrupt every virtue, to foothe every vanity, and to inflame every vice of the human heart.

These fatal mischiefs introduce themselves under the pretence and femblance of that humanity which the feriptures encourage and enjoin but the genuine virtue is easily diftinguished from the counterfeit, and by the following plain figns:

True politenefs is modeft, unpretending, and generous. It appears as little as may be; and when it does a courtefy, would willingly conceal it. It choofes filently to forego its own claims, not officiously to withdraw them. It engages a man to prefer his neighbour to himfelf, because he really esteems him; becafe he is tender of his reputation; becaufe he thinks it more manly, more Chriftian, to defcend a little himself, than to degrade an

other. It refpects, in a word, the credit and eftimation of his neighbour.

The mimic of this amiable virtue, false politenefs, is, on the other hand, ambitious, fervile, timorous. It affects popularity is folicitous to please, and to be taken notice of. The man of this character does not offer, but obtrude his civilities; becaufe he would merit by this affiduity; becaufe, in defpair of winning regard by any worthier qualities, he would be fure to make the moft of this; and laftly, because of all things, he would dread, by the omiffion of any punctilious obfervance, to give offence. In a word, this fort of politenefs refpects, for its immediate object, the favour and confideration of our neighbour.

2. Again; the man who governs himself by the fpirit of the Apoftle's precept, expresses his preference of another, in fuch a way as is worthy of himself; in all innocent compliances, in all honeft civilities, in all decent and manly condefcenfions.

On the contrary, the man of the world, who refts in the letter of this command, is regardless of the means by which he conducts himself. He refpects neither his own dignity, nor that of human nature. Truth, reafon, virtue, all are equally betrayed by this fupple impoftor. He affents to the errors, though the moft pernicious; he applauds the follies, tho' the moft ridiculous; he foothes the vices, though the most flagrant, of other men. He never contradicts, though in the fofteft form of infinuation; he never difapproves, though by a refpectful filence; he never condemns, though it be only by a good example. In fhort, he is folicitous for nothing, but by fome ftudied devices to hide from others, and, if poffible, to palliate to himself the groffness of his illiberal adulation.

Laftly; we may be fure, that the ultimate ends for which thefe different objects are pur

fued,

fed, and by fo different means, must alfo lie wide of each other.

Accordingly, the true polite man would, by all proper teftimonies of refpect, promote the credit and eftimation of his neighbour; because he fees that, by this generous confideration of each other, the peace of the world is, in a good degree, preferved; because he knows that thefe mutual attentions prevent animofities, foften the fiercenefs of men's manners, and difpofe them to all the offices of benevolence and charity; besaufe, in a word, the interefts of fociety are beft ferved by this conduct; and because he understands it to be his duty to love his neighbour.

The falfely polite, on the contrary, are anxious, by all means whatever, to procure the favour and confideration of thofe they converfe with; because they regard, ultimately, nothing more than their private intereft; because they perceive, that their own felfifh defigns are beft cried on by fuch practices; in a word, because they love themselves.

Thus we fee, that genuine virtue confults the honour of others by worthy means, and for the nobleft purpofes; the counterfeit folicits their favour by dishonest compliances, and for the baseft end. Hurd.

§ 30. The Temple of virtuous Love. The ftructure on the right hand was (as I afterwards found) confecrated to virtuous Love, and could not be entered, but by fuch as received a ring, orfome other token, from a perfor who was placed as a guard at the gate of it. He wore a garland of rofes and myrtles on his head, and on his fhoulders a robe like an imperial mantle white and unfpotted all ever, excepting only, that where it was clafped his breaft, there were two golden turtle doves that buttoned it by their bill, which

were wrought in rubies: he was called by the name of Hymen, and was feated near the entrance of the temple, in a delicious bower, made up of feveral trees that were embraced by woodbines, jeffamines, and amaranths, which were as fo many emblems of marriage, and ornaments to the trunks that fupported them. As I was fingle and unaccompanied, I was not permitted to enter the temple, and for that reafon am a ftranger to all the myfteries that were performed in it. I had, however, the curiofity to obferve, how the feveral couples that entered were difpofed of; which was after the following manner; there were two great gates on the backside of the edifice, at which the whole crowd was let out. At one of thefe gates were two women, extremely beautiful, though in a different kind; the one having a very careful and compofed air, the other a fort of fmile and ineffable sweetnefs in her countenance: the name of the first was Difcretion, and of the other Complacency. All who came out of this gate, and put them. felves under the direction of these two fifters, were immediately conducted by them into gardens, groves, and meadows, which abound. ed in delights, and were furnished with every thing that could make them the proper feats of happiness. The fecond gate of this temple let out all the couples that were unhappily inarried; who came out linked together by chains, which each of them strove to break, but could not. Several of these were fuch as had never been acquainted with each other before they met in the great walk, or had been too well acquainted in the thicket. The entrance to this gate was poffeffed by three fifters, who joined themselves with thefe wretches, and occafioned most of their miferies. The youngeft of the fifters was known by the name of Levity; who, with the inno

C

cence

cence of a virgin, had the dress and behaviour of a harlot the name of the second was Contention, who bore on her right arm a muff made of the fkin of a porcupine, and on her left carried a little lap-dog, that barked and fnapped at every one that paffed by her. The eldeft of the fifters, who feemed to have an haughty and imperious air, was always accompanied with a tawny Cupid, who generally marched before her with a little mace on his fhoulder, the end of which was fafhioned into the horns of a ftag: her garments were yellow, and her complexion pale: her eyes were piercing, but had odd cafts in them, and that particular diftemper which makes perfons who are troubled with it fee objects double. Upon enquiry, I was informed that her name was Jealoufy.

Tatler.

§ 31. The Temple of Luft. Having finished my obfervations upon this temple, and its votaries, I repaired to that which stood on the left hand, and was called the Temple of Luft. The front of it was raised on Corinthian pillars, with all the meretricious ornaments that accompany that order; whereas that of the other was compofed of the chafte and matron-like Ionic. The fides of it were adorned with several grotesque figures of goats, fparrows, heathen gods, fatyrs, and monfters, made up of half men, half beaft. The gates were unguarded, and open to all that had a mind to enter. Upon my going in, I found the windows were blinded, and let in only a kind of twilight, that ferved to difcover a prodigious number of dark corners and apartments, into which the whole temple was divided. I was here ftunned with a mixed noife of clamour and jollity: on one fide of me I heard finging and dancing; on the other, brawls and clafhing of fwords: in fhort, I

was fo little pleafed with the place, that I was going out of it; but found I could not returu by the gate where I entered, which was barred against all that were come in, with bolts of iron and rocks of adamant; there was no going back from this temple through the paths of pleasure which led to it: all who passed through the ceremonies of the place, went out at an iron-wicket, which was kept by a dreadful giant called Remorfe, that held a fcourge of fcorpions in his hand, and drove them into the only outlet from that temple. This was a paffage fo rugged, fo uneven, and choaked with fo many thorns and briars, that it was a melancholy fpectacle to behold the pains and difficulties which both fexes fuffered who walked through it: the men, though in the prime of their youth, appeared weak and infeebled with old age: the women wrung their hands, and tore their hair, and feveral loft their limbs, before they could extricate themfelves out of the perplexities of the path in which they were engaged.---The remaining part of this vifion, and the adventures I met with in the two great roads of Ambition and Avarice, must be the fubject of another paper. Ibid.

32. The Temple of Virtue.

With much labour and difficulty I paffed through the first part of my vifion, and recovered the centre of the wood, from whence I had the profpect of the three great roads. I here joined myfelf to the middle-aged party of mankind, who marched behind the standard of Ambition. The great road lay in a direct line, and was terminated by the Temple of Virtue. It was planted on each fide with laurels, which were intermixed with marble trophies,carved pillars,and states of lawgivers, heroes, statesmen, philosophers, and poets.

The