an iron chest, and fixed a padlock upon my clofet. I change my lodgings five times a week, and always remove at the dead of night.

Thus I live, in consequence of having given too great prooss of a predominant genius, in the solitude of a hermit, with the anxiety of a miser, and the caution of an outlaw; asraid to shew my sace lest it should be copied; asraid to speak, lest I should injure my character; and to write, lest my correspondents should publish my letters always uneasy lest my servants should steal my papers for the sake of money, or my friends for that of the publick. This it is to soar above the rest of mankind; and this representation I lay before you, that I may be insormed how to divest myself of the laurels which are so cumbersome to the wearer, and descend to the enjoyment of that quiet from which I find a writer of the first class so satally debarred.

Misellus.

Numb. 17. Tuesday, May 15, 1750.

Me nor: oracula certum,

Se,i mors ctrta facit. LuCAX*

Let thofe weak minds, who live in doubt and scar,

To juggling prictts for oracles repair;

One certain hour of death to each decreed,

My si.u, my certain soul from doubl has freed. Rowej

IT is recorded of some eastern monarch, that he kept an officer in his house, whofe employment it was to remind him of his mortality, by calling out every morning, at a stated hour, Remember, prince, that thou Jhait die. And the contemplation of the frailness and uncertainty of our present state appeared of so much importance to Solon of Athens, that he left this precept to future ages; Keep thine eye fixed upon the end of life.

A frequent and attentive profpect: of that moment, which must put a period to all our schemes, and deprive us of all our acquisitions, is indeed of the utmost efficacy to the just and rational regulation of ouf lives; nor would ever any thing wicked, or often any thing absurd, be undertaken or profecuted by* him who should begin every day with a serious reflection that he is born to die.

The disturbers of our happiness, in this worlds are our desires, our griess, and our sears, and to all these, the consideration of mortality is a certain 6 and

and adequate remedy. Think} fays Epictetus, frequently on poverty, banishment, and death, and thou wilt then never indulge violent desires, or give up thy heart to mean sentiments, wfi* Uncut- T«m»«*

l*5v/rLicrit art ayx» iTiSuurfffif rait.

That the maxim of Epictetus is founded; on juflb observation will easily be granted, when we reflect,. how that vehemence of eagerness aster the common objects of pursuit is kindled in our minds. We represent to ourselves the pleasures of some suture possession, and susfer our thoughts to dwell attentively upon it, till it has wholly engrossed the imagination, and permits us not to conceive any happiness but itr attainment, or any misery but its lofs; every other fatisfaction which the bounty of providence has scattered over lise is neglected as inconsiderable, in comparison of the great object which we have placed before us, and is thrown from us as incumbering our activity, or trampled under foot as standing in our way.

Every man has experienced how much of this ardour has been remitted, when a sharp or tedious sick.ness has set death besore his eyes. The extensive influence of greatness, the glitter of wealth, the praises of admirers, and the attendance of supplicants, have appeared vain and empty things, when the last hour seemed to be approaching; and the fame appearance they would always have, is the fame thought was always predominant. Weihould then find the absurdity of stretching out our arms incesfantly to grasp that which we cannot keep, and wearing out our lives in endeavours to add new turrets to the fabrick of ambition, when the foundation

itself

itself is shaking, and the ground on which it stands is mouldering away.

All envy is proportionate to defire; we are uneasy at the attainments of another, according as we think our own happiness would be advanced by the addition of that which he withholds from us; and theresore whatever depresses immoderate wishes, will, at the same time, set the heart free from the corrofion of envy, and exempt us from that vice which is, above most others, tormenting to ourselves, hatesul to the world, and productive of mean artifices, and sordid projects. He that considers how soon he must clofe his lise, will find nothing of so much importance as to clofe it well; and will, therefore, look with indifference upon whatever is useless to that purpofe. Whoever reflects frequently upon the uncertainty of his own duration, wilhtind out, that the state of others is not more permanent, and that what can conser nothing on himself very desirable, cannot so much improve the condition of a rival, as to make him much superior to thofe from whom he has carried the prize, a prize too mean to deserve a very obstinate opposition.

Even grief, that passion to which the virtuous and tender mind is particularly subject, will be obviated or alleviated, by the same thoughts. It will be obviated, if all the blessings of our condition are enjoyed with a constant sense of this uncertain tenure. If we remember, that whatever we posseis is to be in our hands but a very little time, and that the little which our most lively hopes can promise us, may be made less, by ten thousand accidents; we shall not much repine at a lofs, of which we cannot estimate

the the value, but of which, though we are not able to tell the least amount, we know, with sufficient certainty, the greatest, and are convinced that the greatest is not much to be regretted.

But, is any passion has so much usurped our understanding, as not to suffer us to enjoy advantages with the moderation prescribed by reason, it is not too late to apply this remedy, when We sind ourselves sinking under sorrow, and inclined to pine for that which is irrecoverably Vanished. We may then usesully revolve the Uncertainty of our own condition, and the folly of lamenting that from which, is it had stayed a little longer, we should ourselves have been taken away.

With regard to the sharpest and most melting sorrow, that which arises from the lofs of thofe whom we have loved with tenderness, it may be observed, that friendship between mortals can be contracted on no other terms, than that one must some time mourn for the other's death: And this gries will always yield to the survivor one consolation proportionate to his affliction; for the pain, whatever it be, that he himself seels, his friend has escaped.

Nor is sear, the most overbearing and resistless of all our passions, less to be temperated by this univerfal medicine of the mind. The frequent contemplation of death, as it shows the vanity of all human good, discovers likewise the lightness of all terrestrial evil, which certainly can last no longer than the subject upon which it acts; and according to the old observation, must be shorter, as it is more violent. The most cruel calamity which misfortune can produce, must, by the necessity of nature, be quickly at Vol. V. I an