Innocence confers ease and freedom on the mind; and leaves it open to every pleasing sensation.

Moderate and simple pleasures relish high with the temperate in the midst of his studied refinements, the voluptuary languishes.

Gentleness corrects whatever is offensive in our manners; and, by a constant train of humane attentions, studies to allevi ate the burden of common misery.

That gentleness which is the characteristic of a good man, has, like every other virtue, its seat in the heart; and let me add, nothing except what flows from the heart, can render even external manners truly pleasing.

Virtue, to become either vigorous or useful, must be habitually active: not breaking forth occasionally with a transient lustre, like the blaze of a comet; but regular in its returns, like the light of day: not like the aromatic gale, which sometimes feasts the sense; but like the ordinary breeze, which purifies the air, and renders it healthful.

The happiness of every man depends more upon the state of his own mind, than upon any one external circumstance; nay, more than upon all external things put together.

In no station, in no period, let us think ourselves secure from the dangers which spring from our passions. Every age, and every station, they beset; from youth to grey hairs, and from the peasant to the prince.

Riches and pleasures are the chief temptations to criminal deeds. Yet those riches, when obtained, may very possibly overwhelm us with unforeseen miseries. Those pleasures may

cut short our health and life.

He who is accustomed to turn aside from the world, and commune with himself in retirement, will, sometimes at least, hear. the truths which the multitude do not tell him. A more sound instructor will lift his voice, and awaken within the heart those latent suggestions, which the world bad overpowered and sup pressed.

Amusement often becomes the business, instead of the relaxation of young persons; it is then highly pernicious.

He that waits for an opportunity to do much at once, may breath out his life in idle wishes; and regret, in the last hour, his useless intentions and barren zeal.

The spirit of true religion breaths mildness and affability. It gives a native, unaffected ease to the behaviour. It is social, kind, and cheerful; far removed from that gloomy and illiberal superstition, which clouds the brow, sharpens the tem

per, dejects the spirit, and teaches men to fit themselves for another world, by neglecting the concerns of this.

Reveal none of the secrets of thy friend. Be faithful to his interests. Forsake him not in danger. Abhor the thought of acquiring any advantage by his prejudice.

Man, alys prosperous, would be giddy and insolent; always afflicted, would be sullen or despondent. Hopes and fears, joy and sorrow, are therefore, so blended in his life, as both to give roem for worldly pursuits, and to recall, from time to time,

the admonitions of conscience.

SECTION IV.

TIME once past never returns: the moment which is lost, is lost for ever.

There is nothing on earth so stable, as to assure us of undisturbed rest; nor so powerful, as to afford us constant protection.

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

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

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

Charity, like the sun, brightens every object on which it shines; a censorious disposition casts every character into the darkest shade it will bear.

Many men mistake the love, for the practice, of virtué: and are not so much good men, as the friends of goodness.

Genuine virtue has a language that speaks to every heart troughout the world. It is a language which is understood by ail. In every region, every climate, the homage paid to it is the same. In no one sentiment were ever mankind more genes rally agreed.

The appearances of our security are frequently deceitful. When our sky seems most settled and serene, in some unob served quarter gathers the little black cloud, in which the tem pest ferments, and prepares to discharge itself on our head.

The man of true fortitude may be compared to the castle built on a rock, which defies the attacks of surrounding wa ters: the man of a feeble and timorous spirit, to a hut placed

on the share, which every wind shakes, and every wave overflows.

Nothing is so inconsistent with self-possession, as violent anger. It overpowers reason; confounds our ideas; distorts the appearance, and blackens the colour, of every object. By the storms which it raises within, and by the mischiefs which it accasions without, it generally brings on the passionate and revengeful man, greater misery than he can bring on the object of his resentment.

The palace of virtue has, in all ages, been represented as placed on the summit of a hill; in the ascent of which, labour is requisite, and difficulties are to be surmounted; 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 spirit of charity and candour. But in juiging of ourselves, we ought to be exact and severe.

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

To sensual persons, hardly any thing is what it appears to be; and what flatters most is always farthest from reality. There are voices which sing around them; but whose strains allure to ruin. There is a banquet spread, where poison is in every dish. There is a couch which invites them to repose; but to slumber upon it is death.

If we would judge whether a man is really happy, it is not solely to his houses and lands, to his equipage and his retinue, we are to look. Unless we could see farther, and discern what joy, or what bitterness, his heart feels, we can pronounce little Concerning him.

The book is well written, and I have perused 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 usefully and virtuously employed; to trace our own progress in existence, by such tokens as excite neither shame nor sorrow. It ought therefore to be the care of those who wish to pass the last hours with comfort, to lay up such a treasure of pleasing ideas, as shall support the expences of

that time, which is to depend wholly upon the fund already acquired.

SECTION V.

WHAT avails the show of external liberty, to one who has lost the government of himself?

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

Can we esteem that man prosperous, who is raised to a situation which flatters his passions, but which corrupts his principles, disorders his temper, and, finally, oversets his virtue?

What misery does the vicious man secretly endure! Adversity! how blunt are all the arrows of thy quiver, in comparison with those of guilt!

When we have no pleasure in goodness, we may with cer tainty conclude the reason to be, that our pleasure is all derived from an opposite quarter.

How strangely are the opinions of men altered by a change in their condition!

How many have had reason to be thankful, for being disappointed in designs which they earnestly pursued, but which, if successfully accomplished, they have afterwards seen, would have occasioned their ruin!

What are the actions which afford in the remembrance a rational satisfaction? Are they the pursuits of sensual pleasure, the riots of jolity, or the displays 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 present employment of time should frequently be an object of thought. About what are we now busied? What is the ultimate scope of our present pursuits and cares? Can we justify them to ourselves? Are they likely to produce any thing that will survive the moment, and bring forth some fruit for fu turity?

Is it not strange, (says an ingenious writer,) that some pcrsons should be so delicate as not to bear a disagreeable picture in the house, and yet, by their behaviour, force every face they see about them, to wear the gloom of uneasiness and dis...... content?

If we are now in health, peace, and safety; without any par ticular or uncommon evils to afflict our condition; what incre can we reasonably look for in this vain and uncertain work!? How little can the greatest prosperity add to such a state! W

any future situation ever make us happy, if now, with so few causes of grief, we imagine ourselves miserable? The evil liesin the state of our mind, not in our condition of fortune; and by no alteration of circumstances is likely to be remedied.

When the love of unwarrantable pleasures, and of vicious companions, is allowed to anuse young persons, to engross their time, and to stir up their passions; the day of ruin-let them take heed and beware!-the day of irrecoverable ruin, begins to draw nigh. Fortune is squandered; health is broken; friends are offended, affronted, estranged; aged parents, perhaps, sent afflicted and mourning, to the dust.

On whom docs time hang so heavily, as on the slothful and lazy? To whom are the hours so lingering? Who are so often devoured with spleen, and obliged to fly to every expedient, which can help them to get rid of themselves? Instead of producing tranquillity, indolence produces a fretful restlessness of mind; gives rise to cravings which are never satisfied; nourishes a sickly effeminate delicacy, which sours and corrupts every pleasure.

SECTION VI.

We have seen the husbandman scattering his seed upon the furrowed ground! It springs up, is gathered into his barns, and crowns his labours with joy and plenty. Thus, the man who distributes his fortune with generosity and prudence, is amply repaid by the gratitude of those whom he obliges: by the approbation of his own mind; and by the favour of heaven.

Temperance by fortifying the mind and body, leads to hap piness: Intemperance, by enervating them, ends generally in misery.

Title and ancestry render a good man more illustrious; but an ill one, more contemptible. Vice is infamous, though in a prince; and virtue honourable, though in a peasant.

An elevated genius, employed in little things, appears (to use the simile of Longinus) like the sun in his evening declination: be remits his splendour, but retains his magnitude; and pleases more, though he dazzles less.

If envious people were to ask themselves, whether they would exchange their entire situations with the persons envied, (I mean their minds, passions, notions, as well as their persods, fortunes, and dignities,)-I presume the self-love com