which thus spring from the Deity, must be supposed to partake, in some degree, of the nature of their original fountain, to be pure, refined, innocent, and virtuous, and consequently, that no enjoyments are sanctioned by God's approbation, which do not bear upon them the impression of his amiable characteristics. Hence it follows, as an undeniable conclusion, that all those pleasures and diversions, which, though not essentially vicious in themselves, yet operate either immediately or indirectly as incentives to vice; which gradually wean the mind from useful, honourable, and serious pursuits; which, by little and little, extinguish its fire, deaden its energies, and destroy its elasticity; which excite a distaste for the pursuits of virtue and the offices of piety, a disgust at the composed pleasures of domestic life, and an horror at the necessary duties of solitary meditation and secret self-examination; that all these pleasures, diversions, and amusements, are neither pure nor refined, neither innocent nor virtuous; that they are unhallowed, pernicious, and dangerous to the soul, and that no intimacy can be found with them, without incurring the enmity of God.

Sorry am I, that the authoritive voice of truth compels me to confess, that if we may judge of the nature and tendency of modern amusements from the tinge which they give to the public character, we are bound to declare, that, for the most part, they deserve to be comprehended under one sweeping sentence of condemnation; since to their destructive influence must be attributed, in a great degree, that graceful frivolity and effeminacy of manners, that total want of steadiness and consideration, that general laxity or dissolution of firm, manly, and upright principles, which all perceive, which most condemn, but from whose contamination few, alas! escape. Hence it is, that home is considered as little better than a melancholy prison, unless it be filled with crowds whom its wretched thoughtless inmates can neither love, esteem, or respect. Hence it is, that the dear delights of family intercourse, the gentle charities of private life, the

sweet emanations of conjugal attachments, are ridiculed, despised, or forgotten. Hence it is, that the votaries of pleasure perpetually rush together into public crowds, to renew a stimulus, without whose action they would be wretched, and under whose operation they still find themselves dissatisfied and forlorn, experiencing the feeling of desolation in the midst of multitudes, and suffering the pains of disappointment in the very lap of expected enjoyment. Hence it is, that in the one sex the most licentious principles and profligate habits have been generated, matured, and stamped with the sanction of fashion, adopted in almost general circulation: in the other sex, the fine delicacy, the retiring diffidence, the feminine softness, and the attractive sensibility, which address at the same time the heart and the understanding, the feelings and the judgment, are in too many instances exchanged for boldness, confidence, and masculine affectation. The mistaken female, dropping all the peculiar graces of her sex, imitates, in levity of manners and impropriety of attire, the pitiable daughters of public pollution, who "forsaking the guide of their youth, and forgetting the covenant of their God," have fallen from their attractiveness, as well as their virtue and religion, and are at once rejected of society and condemned of Heaven.

The following excellent observations are extracted, with various alterations, from a sermon on the Necessity of Moderation in our Enjoyments, by the late Dr. Knox.

"Hast thou found honey; eat so much as is sufficient for thee. Neither reason nor religion require thee to throw it away, or to abstain from the enjoyment. It commands thee to eat, and to eat till thou art satisfied. There have been gloomy moralists, and austere teachers in religion, who have forbidden pleasure as inconsistent with virtue. But such prohibitions are often the effects, either of folly, hypocrisy, or enthusiasm. Enjoy pleasure with moderation. Happy would it be, if the united voice of reason and religion could be heard and obeyed in the eager enjoyment of pleasure and worldly prosperity. Pleasure loses its essence, when pursued beyond a certain boundary; and prosperity ceases to confer happiness,

when the insatiable mind thirsts after more, instead of acquiescing in the profusion which it has already obtained.

"In the early age of youth, the world appears with the grace of novelty. The senses are strong and lively. Things are perceived in their fullest beauties. The young and unexperienced imagine, that the enjoyment is without end, and without alloy. They little think, and seem unwilling to learn, that the best method of prolonging and exalting their delights, is to moderate their desires, and to taste them sparingly. The less frequent the indulgence, the greater the delight.

"Let us suppose a common case, that of a young man, just entered on the possession of an ample fortune. Like the prodigal son, he resolves to spend his inheritance in the purchase of pleasure. He has found himself possessed of a store of honey, and he is determined to satiate his eager appetite by unlimited indulgence. He says to his soul, Thou hast much goods laid up for thee; eat, drink, and be merry.' He looks round for companions, for solitary indulgences afford him but little delight. He is commendable in desiring to share with others the honey which he has found; but whom does he select? Not those who are remarkable for the goodness of their characters, and their exemplary conduct; but the loose, the profligate, the libidinous, the drunkard, and the glutton. These, indeed, seek his acquaintance, and find, from a similarity of taste, an easy access. They, on their part, furnish noisy conversation, and subjects of coarse mirth; and he, on his part, pays the expenses of the banquet. Riot and debauchery begin their reign. Reason and modesty are immediately discarded. A few years pass without thought, for noise and excess dispel all anxiety: but this state is very far from a pleasant one; and if it were, it would be of very transient duration. For expenses continued, inevitably occasion distress. The creditor will not be satisfied with promises; but the debtor by this time has nothing else to pay. He has this alternative. He must lose his liberty, or leave off his expensive amusements, or go into voluntary exile. His honey is all consumed; the companions who were attracted by its sweetness are gone; and he is left to suck the bitter dregs in solitude and obscurity.

"Had he duly attended to the precepts of the wise, his honey might have furnished him with sweets during his life! Much of it might have been given to the poor, and much remained as an inheritance to his children. But he was not contented with eating only what was sufficient. Like the voracious and impure animal, which has ever been an emblem of gluttony, he must surfeit himself with food, and wallow in that which was intended to afford him a pure, a sweet, and a wholesome repast. There are others who have arrived at a state of

prosperity on a sudden, by the death of a wealthy relation, or by one of those unexpected events, which, in the language of the world, are called good fortune. They have found honey: their joy is great: they are inclined to believe, that all the ills of life which they have hitherto experienced, and many of which were the lot of human nature, are such as will be removed or mitigated by the possession of affluence. With this persuasion, it is no wonder that they triumph. Their exultation is, however, unbounded, and therefore inconsistent with the exercise of dispassionate reason and discretion.

They also, like the prodigal son, are of opinion that the stock of sweets is inexhaustible. They enter on life on too expensive a plan. Debts accumulate, and trouble springs up, where they flattered themselves they should find nothing but pleasure. Disappointed in prosperity, and perhaps reduced to their original indigence, they at last subscribe, with sincere regret, to the opinion of Solomon, which declares that all is vanity and vexation.'

"But had they eaten only as much as was sufficient, and used their opulence without abusing it, it would have contributed to sweeten life, for which gracious purpose it was designed by him who bestowed it.

Many are incapable of bearing any sudden increase of worldly honours or advantage, so that it is the mercy of Providence which keeps them in the condition out of which they are so anxious to emerge. If they should find that honey which they solicitously seek, they would eat till they destroyed themselves by repletion.

"Every man has it in his power to find honey, or rather to make it; for what is contentment? As the philosopher's stone was to turn baser metals into gold, so contentment possesses a power of turning even bitter things into sweet, of giving that, which without it might be deemed insipid, a pleasant taste. We cannot subdue things to our own minds, but we can subdue our own minds to the condition of things. Even out of poisonous flowers, a contented mind can, like the bee, extract a delicious flavour. And there is this advantage attending the honey extracted by a contented mind; it is of that pure sort which never becomes sour, nor insipid, nor bitter, by the operation of external accidents."

Pleasure, when under the control of nature, reason, virtue, and religion, is the object of rational and lawful pursuit. In whatever form it solicits our notice, accompanied with innocence and moderation, cold and insensible must be that breast which turns from it with disdain.

Behold the birds that wing the liquid sky,
Melodious throng! that neither spin nor toil,
Nor gather into barns th' autumnal spoil,
But ever chant their songs of grateful joy.

Say then, shall man, prince of this nether sphere,
For whom all nature smiles, yet smiles in vain,
Shall he become the weary drudge of care,

The heir of pleasure-yet the slave of pain?

Why in rich clusters hangs the circling vine,
Nor veils, with purple pride, its thick'ning leaves,
If ne'er he tastes its soul-enliv'ning wine,

Nor drinks the cup of bliss that Nature gives?
Or why the peach or apricot unfold

Their pulpy orbs, and shew their hues of blushing gold?

Why beams the eye, but on the charms to gaze
Of beauty, blessing only to be blest?

Why form'd the ear, but to the charms to list,
Of rapture-moving sound's commingling maze?
Or why was youth borne on so fleet a wing,
If we to joy give not the tripping hours?
Then let us cull each rose-bud of the spring,
And strew life's barren path with choicest flow's.

Fond as the wild bee on the desart vale,
From ev'ry blossom sips delicious dew,
Be ours on joys profusely to regale,

And feast on pleasures, various, sweet, and new.
Sure he who ever dwells in bliss complete
Delights to view our happiness the while;
For this he bade the varying seasons smile,
And each desire congenial objects meet;
For this bade fancy, with prophetic dream,
To passion give the wings of keen desire,
And made ev'n hope itself enjoyment seem,
And the slow mind with energy inspire.

Hail beauteous flowers! that blossom in the gale,
Hail, ye gay birds! that chaunt your morning song,
Hail, wanton flocks! that roam the vales among
Gay insect tribes, and sportive fishes, hail!

What time the sun looks from his rosy bow'r,
On the green earth, and shews his laughing face;
'Tis yours to give to joy each fleeting hour,
Till spent at eve, he close his weary chase.