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the affectionate zeal from which they flow, that gives them their best and most valuable recommendation. It is fo far indeed from being verified by fact, that a fense of our wants is the original cause of forming thefe amicable alliances; that on the contrary, it is obfervable, that none have been more diftinguifhed in their friendships than thofe, whofe power and opulence, but, above all, whofe fuperior virtue (a much firmer fupport) have raised them above every neceffity of having recourfe to the affiflance of others.

The true diftinction then, in this question is, that “although friendship is certainly productive or utility, yet utility is not the primary motive of friendship." Thofe felfifh fenfualifts, therefore, who, lulled in the lap of luxury, prefume to maintain the reverfe, have furely no claim to attention; as they are neither qualified by reflection, nor experience, to be competent judges of the fubject.

Is there a man upon the face of the earth, who would deliberately accept of all the wealth, and all the affluence this world can bestow, if offered to him upon the fevere terms of his being unconnected with a fingle mortal whom he could love, or by whom he fhould be beloved? This would be to lead the wretched life of a detefted tyrant, who, amidit perpetual fufpicions and alarms, paffes his miserable days a ftranger to every tender fentiment; and utterly precluded from the heartfelt fatisfactions of friendfhip. Melmoth's tranflation of Cicero's Lælius.

SECTION VI.

ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.

I was yesterday walking alone, in one of my friend's woods; and loft myfelf in it very agreeably, as I was running over, in my mind, the feveral arguments that establifh this great point; which is the bafis of morality, and the fource of all the pleafing hopes and fecret joys, that can arife in the heart of a reasonable creature. I confidered thofe feveral proofs drawn,

First, from the nature of the foul itself, and particularly its immateriality; which, though not abfolutely neceffary to the eternity of its duration, has, I think, been evinced to almost a demonftration.

Secondly, from its paffions and fentiments; as, particularly, from its love of exiftence; its horror of annihilation; and its hopes of immortality; with that fecret fatisfaction which it finds in the practice of virtue; and that uneafinefs which follows upon the commiffion of vice.

Thirdly, from the nature of the Supreme Being, whose juftice, goodness, wisdom, and veracity, are all concerned in this point.

But among thefe, and other excellent arguments for the immortality of the foul, there is one drawn from the perpetual progrefs of the foul to its perfection, without a poffibility of ever arriving at it which is a hint that I do not remember to have feen opened and improved by others, who have written on this fubject, though it seems to me to carry a very great weight with it. How can it enter into the thoughts of man, that the foul, which is capable of fuch immenfe perfections, and of receiving new improvements to all eternity, fhall fall away into nothing, almost as foon as it is created? Are fuch abilities made for no purpose? A brute arrives at a point of perfection, that he can never pafs; in a few years he has all the endowments he is capable of; and were he to live ten thousand more, would be the fame thing he is at prefent. Were a human foul thus at a stand in her accomplishments; were her faculties to be full blown, and incapable of farther enlarge ments; I could imagine the might fall away infenfibly, and drop at once into a state of annihilation. But can we believe a thinking being, that is in a perpetual progress of improvements, and travelling on from perfection to perfection, after having just looked abroad into the works of its Creator, and made a few difcoveries of his infinite goodnefs, wifdom, and power, muft perifh at her firft fetting out, and in the very beginning of her inquiries?

A man, confidered only in his prefent ftate, feems fent into the world merely to propagate his kind. He provides himfelf with a fucceffor; and immediately quits his post to make room for him. He does not feem born to enjoy life, but to deliver it down to others. This is not fur prifing to confider in animals, which are formed for our ufe, and can finish their business in a fhort life. The filkworm, after having fpun her talk, lays her eggs and dies. But a man cannot take in his full measure of knowledge,

has not time to fubdue his paffions, establish his foul ins virtue, and come up to the perfection of his nature, before he is hurried off the ftage.. Would an infinitely wife Being make fuch glorious creatures for fo mean a purpose? Can he delight in the production of fuch abortive intelligences, fuch fhort lived reasonable beings? Would he give us talents that are not to be exerted? capacities that are never to be gratified? How can we find that wisdom which fhines through all his works, in the formation of man, without looking on this world, as only a nursery for the next; and without believing that the feveral generations of rational creatures, which rise up and disappear in fuch quick fucceffions, are only to receive their first rudiments of existence here, and afterwards to be tranfplanted into a more friendly climate, where they may fpread and flourish to all eternity?

There is not, in my opinion, a more pleafing and triumphant confideration in religion, than this of the perpetual progrefs, which the foul makes towards the perfection of its nature, without ever arriving at a period in it. To lock upon the foul as going on from ftrength to ftrength; to confider that the is to fhine for ever with new accelions of glory, and brighten to all eternity; that fhe will be ftill adding virtue to virtue, and knowledge to knowledge; carries in it fomething wonderfully agreeable to that ambition, which is natural to the mind of man.. Nay, it must be a profpect pleafing to God himself, to fee his creation for ever beautifying in his eyes; and drawing nearer to him, by greater degrees of refemblance...

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Methinks this fingle confideration, of the progrefs of a finite fpirit to perfection, will be fufficient to extinguish all envy in inferior natures, and all contempt i fuperior. That cherub, which now appears as a god to as human foul, knows very well that the period will come. about in eternity, when the human foul thall be as perfec as he himself now is: nay, when the shall look down upon that degree of perfection as much as fhe now falls fhort of it. It is true, the higher nature ftill advances, and by that means preferves his distance and fuperiority in the fcale of being; but he knows that, how high foever the station is of which he ftands poffelled at present, the inferior nature will at length mount

up to it and fhine forth in the fame degree of glory. With what aftonishment and veneration, may we look into our own fouls, where there are fuch hidden ftores of virtue and knowledge, fuch inexhaufted fources of perfection! We know not yet what we fhall be; nor will it ever enter into the heart of man, to conceive the glory that will be always in referve for him. The foul, confidered with its Creator, is like one of those mathematical lines, that may draw nearer to another for all eternity, without a poffibility of touching it and can there be a thought fo tranfporting, as to confider ourfelves in these perpetual approaches to HIM, who is the ftandard not only of perfection, but of happiness !

ADDISON..

m2 Bs

AMONG

CHAP. V.

DESCRIPTIVE PIECES.

SECTION I.

THE SEASONS.

MONG the great bleffings and wonders of the creation, may be claffed the regularities of times and feafons. Immediately after the flood, the facred promife was made to man, that feed time and harvest, cold and heat, fummer and winter, day and night, fhould continue to the very end of all things. Accordingly, in obedience to that promife, the rotation is conftantly prefenting us with fome ufeful and agreeable alteration; and all the pleafing novelty of life arifes from thefe natural changes : nor are we lefs indebted to them for many of its folid comforts. it has been frequently the tafk of the moralift and poet, to mark, in polifhed periods, the particular charms and conveniences of every change; and, indeed, fuch difcriminate obfervations upon natural variety, cannot be undelightful; fince the bleffing, which every month brings along with it, is a fresh inftance of the wildom and bounty of that Providence, which regulates the glories, of the year. We glow as we contemplate; we feel a propenfity to adore, whilft we enjoy. In the time of feed fowing, it is the feafon of confidence: the grain which the

husbandman trufts to the bofom of the earth fhall, haply, yield its fevenfold rewards. Spring prefents us with a fcene of lively expectation. That which was before sown, begins now to difcover figns of fuccefsful vegetation. The labourer obferves the change, and anticipates the harvest: he watches the progrefs of nature, and smiles at her influence; while the man of contemplation walks forth with the evening, amidst the fragrance of flowers, and promises of plenty; nor returns to his cottage till darkness clofes the scene upon his eye. Then cometh the harvest, when the large wifh is fatisfied, and the granaries of nature are loaded with the means of life, even to a luxury of abundance. The powers of language are unequal to the description of this happy season. It is the carnaval of nature: fun and fhade, coolnefs and quietude, cheerfulnefs and melody, love and gratitude, unite to render every scene of fummer delightful. The divifion of light and darkness is one of the kindest efforts of Omnipotent Wifdom. Day and night yield us contrary bleflings; and, at the fame time, affift each other, by giving fresh luftre to the delights of both. Amidst the glare of day, and buftle of life, how could we fleep? Amidst the gloom of darkness, how could we labour?

How wife, how benignant, then, is the proper divifion! The hours of light are adapted to activity; and those of darkness, to reft. Ere the day is paffed, exercife and nature prepare us for the pillow; and by the time that the morning returns, we are again able to meet it with a smile. Thus, every season has a charm peculiar to itself; and every moment affords fome interesting innovation.

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MELMOTH.

THE CATARACT OF NIAGARA, IN CANADA, NORTH AMERICA.

THIS amazing fall of water is made by the river St. Lawrence, in its paffage from lake Erie into the lake Ontario. The St. Lawrence is one of the largest rivers in the world; and yet the whole of its waters is discharged in this place, by a fall of a hundred and fifty feet perpendicular. It is not eafy to bring the imagination to correspond to the greatnefs of the fcene. A river extremely deep and rapid, and that ferves to drain the waters of al

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