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than a grain of sand upon the sea-shore. The bulk of which they consist, and the space which they occupy, are so exceedingly little in comparison of the whole, that their loss would scarcely leave a blank in the immensity of God's works.

9 If then, not our globe only, but this whole system, be so very diminutive, what is a kingdom, or a country? What are a few lordships, or the so much admired patrimonies of those who are styled wealthy? When I measure them with my own little pittance, they swell into proud and bloated dimensions: but when I take the universe for my standard, how scanty is their size! how contemptible their figure! They shrink into pompous nothings.

SECTION XV.

ADDISON.

On the power of custom, and the uses to which it may be applied. There is not a common saying, which has a better turn of sense in it, than what we often hear in the mouths of the vulgar, that "Custom is a second nature." It is indeed able to form the man anew; and give him inclinations and capacities altogether different from those he was born with.

2 A person who is addicted to play or gaming, though he took but little delight in it at first, by degrees contracts so strong an inclination towards it, and gives himself up so entirely to it, that it seems the only end of his being. The love of a retired or busy life will grow upon a man insensibly, as he is conversant in the one or the other, till he is utterly unqualified for relishing that to which he has been for sometime disused..

3 Nay, a man may smoke, or drink, or take snuff, till he is unable to pass away his time without it; not to mention how our delight in any particular study, art, or science, rises and improves, in proportion to the application which we bestow upon it. Thus, what was at first an exercise, becomes at length an entertainment. Our employments are changed into diversions. The mind grows fond of those actions it is accustomed to; and is drawn with reluctancy from those paths in which it has been used to walk.

4 if we attentively consider this property of human nature, it may instruct us in very fine moralities. In the first place, I would have no man discouraged with that kind of life, or se ries of actions, in which the choice of others,or his own necessities, may have engaged him. It may perhaps be very dist

greeable to him, at first; but use and application will certainly render it not only less painful, but pleasing and satisfactory.

5 In the second place, I would recommend to every one, the admirable precept, which Pythagoras is said to have given to his disciples, and which that, philosopher must have drawn from the observation I have enlarged upon : "Pitch upon that course of life which is the most excellent, and custom will render it the most delightful.".

6 Men, whose circumstances will permit them to choose their own way of life, are inexcusable if they do not pursue that which their judgment tells them is the most laudable. The voice of reason is more to be regarded, than the bent of any present inclination: since, by the rule above mentioned, inclination will at length come over to reason, though we can never force reason to comply with inclination.

7 In the third place, this observation may teach the most sensual and irreligious man, to overlook those hardships and difficulties, which are apt to discourage him from the proseeution of a virtuous life. "The gods," said Hesiod, "have placed labour before virtue; the way to her is at first rough and difficult, but grows more smooth and easy the farther we advance in it." The man who proceeds in it with steadiness and resolution, will, in a little time, find that "her ways are ways of pleasantness, and that all her paths are peace." 8 To enforce this consideration, we may further observe, that the practice of religion will not only be attended with that pleasure which naturally accompanies those actions to which we are habituated, but with those supernumerary joys of heart, that rise from the consciousness of such a pleasure: from the satisfaction of acting up to the dictates of reason; and from the prospect of a happy immortality,

9 In the fourth place, we may learn from this observation which we have made on the mind of man, to take particular care, when we are once settled in a regular course of life, how we too frequently indulge ourselves in even the most innocent diversions and entertainments; since the mind may insensibly fall off from the relish of virtuous actions, and by degrees exchange that pleasure which it takes in the performance of its duty, for delights of a much inferior and an unprofitable nature.

10 The last use which I shall make of this remarkable property in human nature, of being delighted with these actions to

Part 1. which it is accustomed, is, to show how absolutely necessary it is for us to gain habits of virtue in this life, if we would enjoy the pleasures of the next. The state of bliss we call heaven, will not be capable of affecting those minds which are not thus qualified for it: we must, in this world, gain a relish for truth and virtue, if we would be able to taste that knowledge and perfection, which are to make us happy in the next. The seeds of those spiritual joys and raptures, which are to rise up and flourish in the soul to all eternity, must be planted in it during this its present state of probation. In short, heaven is not to be looked upon only as the reward, but as the natural effect of a religious life.—ADDISON. SECTION XVI. •

The pleasures resulting from a proper use of our faculties. Happy that man, who, unembarrassed by vulgar cares, master of himself, his time, and fortune, spends his time in making himself wiser; and his fortune, in making others (and therefore himself) happier: who, as the will and understanding, are the two ennobling faculties of the soul, thinks himself not complete, till his understanding is beautified with the valuable furniture of knowledge, as well as his will enriched with every virtue; who has furnished himself with all the advantages to relish solitude, and enliven conversation; who, when serious, is not sullen; and when, cheerful, not indiscreetly gay; whose ambition is, not to be admired for a false glare of greatness, but to be beloved for the gentle and sober lustre of his wisdom and goodness. 2 The greatest minister of state, has not more business to do, in a public capacity, than he, and indeed every other man, may find in the retired and still scenes of life. Even in his private walks, every thing that is visible, convinces him there is present a Being invisible. Aided by natural philosophy, he reads plain, legible traces of the Divinity, in every thing he meets: he sees the Deity in every tree, as well as Moses did in the burning bush though not in so glaring a manner; and when he sees him, he adores him with the tribute of a grateful heart.

SECTION XVII.

Description of candour.

SEED.

True candour is altogether different from that guarded, poffensive language, and that studied openness *****

haviour, which we so fequently meet with among men of the world. Smiling, very often, is the aspect, and smooth are the words of those, who, inwardly, are the most ready to think evil of others. That candour which is a Christian virtue, consists, not in fairness of speech, but in fairness of heart.

2 It may want the blandishment of external courtesy, but supplies its place with a humane and generous liberality of sentiment. Its manners are unaffected, and its professions cordial. Exempt, on one hand, from the dark jealousy of a suspicious mind, it is no less removed, on the other, from that easy credulity which is imposed on by every specious pretence. It is perfectly consistent with extensive knowledge of the world, and with due attention to our own safety. 3 In that various intercourse, which we are obliged to carry on with persons of every different character, suspicion, to a certain degree, is a necessary guard. It is only when it exceeds the bounds of prudent caution, that it degenerates into vice. There is a proper mean between undistinguished credulity, and universal jealousy, which a sound understanding discerns, and which the man of candour studies to preserve.

4 He makes allowance for the mixture of evil with good, which is to be found in every human character. He expects none to be faultless: and he is unwilling to believe that there is any without some commendable qualities. In the midst of many defects, he can discover a virtue. Under the influence of personal resentment, he can be *just to the merit of an enemy.

5 He never lends an open ear to those defamatory reports, and dark suggestions, which, among the tribes of the censorious, circulate with so much rapidity, and meet with so ready acceptance. He is not hasty to judge; and he requires full evidence before he will condemn.

6 As long as an action can be ascribed to different motives, he holds it as no mark of sagacity to impute it always to the worst. Where there is just ground for doubt, he keeps his judgment undecided; and, during the period of suspense, leans to the most charitable construction which an action can bear. When he must condemn, he condemns with regret; and without those aggravations which the severity of others adds to the crime. He listens calmly to the

apology of the offender, and readily admits every extenuating circumstance, which equity can suggest.

7 How much soever he may blame the principles of any sect or party, he never confounds, under one general censure, all who belong to that party or sect. He charges them not with such consequences of their tenets, as they refuse and disavow. From one wrong opinion, he does not infer the subversion of all sound principles; nor from one bad action, conclude that all regard to conscience is overthrown.

8 When he "beholds the mote in his brother's eye," he remembers "the beam in his own." He commiserates human frailty; and judges of others according to the principles, by which he would think it reasonable that they should judge of him. In a word, he views men and actions in the clear sunshine of charity and good nature; and not in that dark and sullen shade which jealousy aud party-spirit throw over all characters.

SECTION XVIII.

BLAIR.

On the imperfection of that happiness which rests solely on worldly pleasures.

The vanity of human pleasures, is a topic which might be embellished with the pomp of much description. But I shall studiously avoid exaggeration, and only point out a threefold vanity in human life, which every impartial observer cannot but admit; disappointment in pursuit, dissatisfaction in enjoyment, uncertainty in possession.

2 First, disappointment in pursuit. When we look around us on the world, we every where behold a busy multitude, intent on the prosecution of various designs, which their wants or desires have suggested. We behold them employing every method which ingenuity can devise; some the patience of industry, some the boldness of enterprise, others the dexterity of stratagem, in order to compass their ends.

3 Of this incessant stir and activity, what is the fruit? in comparison of the crowd who have toiled in vain, how small is the number of the successful? Or rather, where is the man who will declare, that in every point he has completed his plan, and attained his utmost wish?

4 No extent of human abilities has been able to discover a path which, in any line of life, leads unerringly to success. "The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the

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