shall in this paper throw together some reflections on that particular art, which has a more immediate tendency than any other, to produce those primary pleasures of the imag ination, which have hitherto been the subject of this dis

course.

LESSON_LXIV.

DOES greatness secure persons of rank from infirmities either of body or mind? Will the head-ach, the gout, or fever, spare a prince any more than a subject? When old age comes to lie heavy upon him, will his engineers relieve him of the load? Can his guards and centinels, by doubling and trebling their numbers, and their watchfulness, prevent the approach of death? Nay, if jealousy, or even ill humour, disturb his happiness, will the cringes of his fawning attendants restore his tranquil lity? When the pangs of the gout, or stone, extort from him screams of agony, do the titles of Highness or Majesty come sweetly into his ear? If he be agitated with rage, does the sound of Serene, or Most Christian, prevent his staring, reddening, and gnashing with his teeth like a madman? Would not a twinge of the tooth-ach, or an affront from an inferior, make the mighty Cæsar forget that he was emperor of the world?

LESSON LXV.

NOTHING is more amiable than true modesty, and nothing more contemptible than the false. The one guards virtue; the other betrays it. True modesty is a shamed to do any thing that is repugnant to the rules of right reason; false modesty is ashamed to do any thing that is opposite to the humour of the company. True modesty avoids every thing that is criminal; false modesty, every thing that is unfashionable. The latter is only a general undetermined instinct; the former is that instinct, limited and circumscribed by the rules of prudence and religion.

II. How different is the view of past life, in the man who is grown old in knowledge and wisdom, from that of him who is grown old in ignorance and folly! The latter is like the owner of a barren country, that fills his eye

ith the prospect of naked hills and plains, which produce nothing either profitable or ornamental: The former be holds a beautiful and spacious landscape, divided into delightful gardens, green meadows, fruitful fields, and can scarce cast his eye on a single spot of his possessions, that is not covered with some beautiful plant or flower.

IT is owing to our having early imbibed false notions of virtue, that the word Christian does not carry with it, at first view, all that is great, worthy, friendly, generous, and heroick. The man who suspends his hopes of the reward of worthy actions till after his death; who can bestow, unseen; who can overlook hatred; do good to his slanderer; who can never be angry at his friend, never revengeful to his enemy, is certainly formed for the benefit of society.

II. Though we seem grieved at the shortness of life in general, we are wishing every period of it at an end. The minor longs to be of age; then to be a man of business; then to make up an estate; then to arrive at honours; then to retire. The usurer would be very well satisfied, to have all the time annihilated that lies between the present moment and the next quarter day; the politician would be contented to lose three years in his life, could he place things in the posture, which he fancies they will stand in after such a revolution of time; and the lover would be glad to strike out of his existence, all the mo ments that are to pass away before the happy meeting,

SO

AS there is a worldly happiness, which God perceives to be no other than disguised misery; as there are worldly honours, which, in His estimation, are reproach; there is a worldly wisdom, which, in His sight, is foolishness. Of this worldly wisdom, the characters are given in the scriptures, and placed in contrast with those of the wisdom which is from above. The one is the wisdom of the crafty; the other, that of the upright; the one ter

E

minates in selfishness; the other, in charity; the one is full of strife and bitter envying; the other of mercy and good fruits.

II. True honour, though it be a different principle from religion, is that which produces the same effects. The lines of action, though drawn from different parts, terminate in the same point. Religion embraces virtue, as it is enjoined by the laws of God; honour, as it is graceful and ornamental to human nature. The religious man fears, the man of honour scorns, to do an ill action. The latter considers vice as something that is beneath him; the former, as something that is offensive to the Divine Being: the one, as what is unbecoming; the other, as what is forbidden.

SHOULD the greater part of people sit down and draw up a particular account of their time, what a shameful bill would it be! So much in eating, drinking, and sleeping beyond what nature requires; so much in revelling and wantonness; so much for the recovery of last night's intemperance; so much in gaming, plays, and masquerades so much in paying and receiving formal and impertinent visits; so much in idle and foolish prating, in censuring and reviling our neighbours; so much in dressing out our bodies and in talking of fashions; and so much wasted and lost in doing nothing at all.

II If we would have the kindness of others we must endure their follies. He who cannot persuade himself to withdraw from society, must be content to pay a tribute of his time to a multitude of tyrants; to the loiterer, who makes appointments he never keeps-to the consulter, who asks advice he never takes-to the boaster, who blusters only to be praised-to the complainer, who whines only to be pitied to the projector, whose happiness is to entertain his friends with expectations which all but himself know to be vain-to the economist, who tells of bargains and settlements-to the politician, who predicts the consequences of deaths, battles, and alliances-to the usurer, who compares the state of the different funds-and to the talker, who talks only because he loves to be talking.

MODESTY is a polite accomplishment, and generally an attendant upon merit: It is engaging to the highest degree, and wins the heart of all our acquaintance. On the contrary, none are more disgustful in company, than the impudent and presuming. The man who is, on all occasions, commending and speaking well of himself, we naturally dislike. On the other hand, he who studies to conceal his own deserts, who does justice to the merits of others, who talks but little of himself, and that with modesty, makes a favourable impression on the persons he is conversing with, captivates their minds, and gains their

esteem.

II. Modesty, however, differs widely from an awkward bashfulness, which is as much to be condemned as the other is to be applauded. To appear simple is as ill-bred as to be impudent. A young man ought to be able to come into a room and address the company, without the least embarrassment. To be out of countenance when spoken to, and not to have an answer ready, is ridiculous to the last degree.

Ignorance and vice are the only things we need be ashamed of; steer clear of these, and you may go into any company you will: Not that I would have a young man throw off all dread of appearing abroad; as a fear of offending, or being disesteemed, will make him observe a proper deCHESTERFIELD.

corum.

ONE of the chiefest beauties in a female character is that modest reserve, that retiring delicacy, which avoids the publick eye, and is disconcerted even at the gaze of admiration.-1 do not wish you to be insensible of ap. plause. If you were, you must become, if not worse, at least, less amiable women. But you may be dazzled by that admiration which yet rejoices your hearts. When a girl ceases to blush, she has lost the most powerful charm of beauty. That extreme sensibility which it indicates,

may be a weakness and incumbrance in our sex, as I have too often felt ; but in yours it is peculiarly engaging. Pedants, who think themselves philosophers, ask why a woman should blush, when she is conscious of no crime. It is a sufficient answer, that nature has made you to blush when you are guilty of no fault, and has forced us to love you because you do so. Blushing is so far from being necessarily an attendant on guilt, that it is the usual com. panion of innocence. GREGORY.

THOUGH the duties of religion, strictly speaking, are equally binding on both sexes, yet certain differences in their natural character, and education, render some vices in your sex particularly odious The natural hard. ness of our hearts, and strength of our passions, inflamed by the uncontrolled licence we are too often indulged with in our youth, are apt to render our manners more dissolute, and make us less susceptible of the finer feelings of the heart. Your superior delicacy, your modesty, and the usual severity of your education, preserve you, in a great measure, from any temptation to those vices, to which we are most subjected. The natural softness and sensibility of your dispositions particularly fit you for the practice of those duties where the heart is chiefly concerned. And this, along with the natural warmth of your imaginations, renders you particularly susceptible of the feelings of devo

tion.

II. There are many circumstances in your situation that peculiarly require the supports of religion to enable you to act in them with spirit and propriety. Your whole life is often a life of suffering. You canhot plunge into business, or dissipate yourselves in pleasure and riot, as men too often do, when under the pressure of misfortunes. You must bear your sorrows in silence, unknown and unpitied. You must often put on a face of serenity and cheerfulness, when your hearts are torn with anguish, or sinking in despair. Then your only resource is in the consolations of religion. GREGORY.