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TIME once paft never returns: the moment which is loft, is loft for ever.

There is nothing on earth fo ftable, as to afsure us of undisturbed reft; nor fo powerful, as to afford us conftant protection.

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

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

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

Charity, like the fun, brightens every object on which it fines: a cenforious difpofition cafts 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 virtue 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 fame. In no one fentiment were ever mankind more generally agreed.

The appearances of our fecurity are frequently deceitful. When our sky seems most settled and ferene, in fome unobferved quarter gathers the little black

cloud, in which the tempeft ferments, and prepares to difcharge itself on our head.

The man of true fortitude may be compared to the castle built on a rock, which defies the attacks of furrounding waters: the man of a feeble and timorous fpirit, to a hut placed on the fhore, which every wind fhakes, and every wave overflows.

Nothing is fo inconfiftent with felf-pofsefsion as violent anger. It overpowers reafon; confounds our ideas; diftorts the appearance, and blackens the colour, of every object. By the ftorm which it raifes within, and by the mifchiefs which it occafions without, it generally brings on the pafsionate and revengeful man, greater mifery than he can bring on the object of his refentment.

The palace of virtue has, in all ages, been repre fented as placed on the fummit of a hill; in the afcent of which, labour is requifite, and difficulties are to be furmounted; 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 fpirit of charity and candour. But in judging of ourselves, we ought to be exact and fevere.

Let him that defires to fee others happy, make haste to give while his gift can be enjoyed; and remember, that every moment of delay, takes away fomething from the value of his benefaction. And let him who propofes his own happiness reflect, that while he forms his purpose, the day rolls on, and "the night cometh, when no man can work."

To fenfual perfons, hardly any thing is what it appears to be: and what flatters moft, is always farthest from reality. There are voices which fing around

them; but whofe ftrains allure to ruin. There is a banquet spread, where poison is in every difl. There is a couch which invites them to repofe; but to flumber upon it, is death.

If we would judge whether a man is really happy, it is not folely to his houfes and lands, to his equipage and his retinue, we are to look. Unless we could fee farther, and difcern what joy, or what bitternefs, his heart feels, we can pronounce nothing concerning him.

The book is well written; and I have perufed 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, lastly, that it is most conducive to our happiness.

There is certainly no greater felicity, than to be able to look back on a life ufefully and virtuously employed; to trace our own progress in existence, by fuch tokens as excite neither shame nor forrow. It ought therefore to be the care of those who wish to pass the last hours with comfort, to lay up fuch a treasure of pleafing ideas, as fhall fupport the expenfes of that time, which is to depend wholly upon the fund already acquired.


WHAT avails the fhow of external liberty, to one who has loft the government of himself?

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

Can we esteem that man profperous, who is raised

to a fituation which flatters his pafsions, but which corrupts his principles, diforders his temper, and, finally, overfets his virtue?

What mifery does the vicious man secretly endure! Adverfity! how blunt are all the arrows of thy quiver, in comparison with thofe of guilt!

When we have no pleasure in goodnefs, we may with certainty conclude the reason to be, that our pleasure is all derived from an oppofite quarter.

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

How many have had reafon to be thankful, for being difappointed in defigns which they earneftly pursued, but which, if fuccefsfully accomplished, they have afterwards feen, would have occafioned their ruin?

What are the actions which afford in the remembrance a rational fatisfaction? Are they the purfaits of fenfual pleasure, the riots of jollity, or the difplays of show and vanity? 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 prefent employment of time fhould frequently be an object of thought. About what are we now bufied? What is the ultimate fcope of our present pursuits and cares? Can we juftify them to ourselves? Are they likely to produce any thing that will furvive the moment, and bring forth fome fruit for futurity?

Is it not ftrange, (fays an ingenious writer,) that fome perfons fhould be fo delicate as not to bear a difagreeable picture in the house, and yet, by their behaviour, force every face they fee about them, to wear the gloom of uneafinefs and difcontent?

If we are now in health, peace, and fafety; without any particular or uncommon evils to afflict our condition; what more can we reafonably look for in this vain and uncertain world? How little can the greatest profperity add to fuch a state? Will any future fituation ever make us happy, if now, with fo few caufes of grief, we imagine ourfelves miferable? The evil lies in the ftate of our mind, not in our condition of fortune; and by no alteration of circumftances is likely to be remedied.

When the love of unwarrantable pleasures, and of vicious companions, is allowed to amuse young perfons, to ingrofs their time, and to ftir up their pafsions; the day of ruin,-let them take heed, and beware!-the day of irrecoverable ruin, begins to draw nigh. Fortune is fquandered; health is broken; friends are offended, affronted, eftranged; aged parents, perhaps, fent afflicted and mourning, to the duft.

On whom does time hang fo heavily, as on the flothful and lazy? To whom are the hours fo lingering? Who are so often devoured with spleen, and obliged to fly to every expedient, which can help them to get rid of themselves? Inftead of producing tranquillity, indolence produces a fretful reftlefsnefs of mind; gives rife to cravings which are never fatisfied; nourishes a fickly effeminate delicacy, which fours and corrupts every pleasure.


We have seen the husbandman scattering his feed upon the furrowed ground! It fprings up, is gathered

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