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by a heavenly messenger from his devoted city. When "all flesh had corrupted their way upon the earth," then lived Noah, a righteous man, and a preacher of righteousness, He stood alone, and was scoffed by a profane crew. But they by the deluge were swept away; while on him, Providence conferred the immortal honour, of being the restorer of a better race, and the father of a new world. Such examples as these and such honours conferred by God on them who withstood the multitude of evil dcers, should often be present to our minds. Let us oppose them to the numbers of low and corrupt examples, which we behold around us; and when we are in hazard of being swayed by such, let us fortify our virtue, by thinking of those who, in former times, shone like stars, in the midst of surrounding darkness, and are now shining in the kingdom of heaven, as the brightness of the firmament, for ever and ever. BLAIR.

SECTION.Χ.

The Mortifications of Vice greater than those of Virtue. THOUGH no condition of human life is free from uneasiness, yet it must be allowed, that the uneasiness belonging to a sinful course, is far greater, than what attends a course of well doing. If we are weary of the labours of virtuę, we may be assured, that the world, whenever we try the exchange, will lay upon us a much heavier load, It is the outside only, of a licentious life, which is gay and smiling. Within, it conceals toil, and trouble, and deadly sorrow. For vice poisons human happiness in the spring, by introducing disorder into the heart. Those passions which it seems to indulge, it only feeds with imperfect gratifications: and thereby strengthens them for preying, in the end, on their unhappy victims.

It is a great mistake to imagine, that the pain of selfdenial is confined to virtue. He who follows the world, as much as he who follows Christ, must "take up his cross;" and to him assuredly, it will prove a more oppressive burden. Vice allows all our passions to range uncontrolled; and where each claims to be superior, it is impossible to gratify all. The predominant desire can only be indulged at the expense of its rival. No mortifications which virtue exacts are more severe than those, which ambition imposes upon the love of ease, pride upon interest, and covetousness upon vanity. Self-denial, therefore, belongs, in common, to Ivice and virtue; but with this remarkable difference, that the passions which virtue requires us to mortify, it tends, to weaken; whereas, those which vice obliges us to deny it, at the same time, strengthens. The one diminishes the pain of self denial, by moderating the demand of passion; the other increases it, by rendering those demands imperious and violent. What distresses, that occur in the calm life of virtue, can be compared to those tortures, which remorse of conscience inflicts on the wicked; to those severe humiti ations, arising from guilt combined with misfortunes, which sink them to the dust; to those violent agitations of shame and disappointment, which sometimes drive them to the most fatal extremities, and make them abhor their existence ? How often, in the midst of those disastrous situations, into. which their crimes have brought them, have they execrated. the seductions of vice; and, with bitter regret, looked back to the day on which they first forsook the path of inno

cence!

SECTION XI.

On Contentment.

BLAIR.

CONTENTMENT produces, in some measure, all those effects which the alchymist usually ascribes to what he calls the philosopher's stone; and if it does not bring riches, it does the same thing by banishing the desire of them. If it cannot remove the disquietudes arising from a man's mind, body, or fortune, it makes him easy under them. It has indeed a kindly influence on the soul of man, in respect of every being to whom he stands related. It extinguishes all murmur, repining, and ingratitude, towards that Being who has allotted him his part to act in this world. It destroys all inordinate ambition, and every tendency to corruption, with regard to the community wherein he is placed. It gives sweetness to his conversation, and a perpetual serenity to all his thoughts.

Among the many methods which might be made use of for aequiring this virtue, I shall mention only the two following. First of all, a man should always consider how much he has more than he wants; and secondly, how much more unhappy he might be than he really is..

First, a man should always consider how much he has more than he wants. I am wonderfally pleased with the reply which Aristippus made to one, who condoled with him npon the loss of a farm; "Why," said he, "I have three farms still, and you have but one; so that I ought rather to be afflicted for you than you for me." On the contrary, foolish

men are more apt to consider what they have lost, than what they possess; and to fix their eyes upon those who are richer than themselves, rather than on those who are under greater difficulties. All the real pleasures and conveniences of life lie in a narrow compass: but it is the humour of mankind to be always looking forward; and straining after one who has got the start of them in wealth and honour. For this reason, as none can be properly called rich who have not more than they want, there are few rich men in any of the politer nations, but among the middle sort of people, who keep their wishes within their fortunes, and have more wealth than they know how to enjoy. Persons of a higher rank live in a kind of splendid poverty; and are perpetually wanting because, instead of acquiescing in the solid pleasures of life. they endeavour to outvie one another in shadows and appear ances. Men of sense have at all times beheld, with a greal deal of mirth, this silly game that is playing over their heads and by contracting their desires, they enjoy all that secre satisfaction which others are always in quest of. The truth is, this ridiculous chase after imaginary pleasures, cannot be sufficiently exposed, as it is the great source of those evils which generally undo a nation. Let a man's estate be what it may, he is a poor man, if he does not live within it; and naturally sets himself to sale to any one that can give him his price. When Pittacus, after the death of his brother who had left him a good estate, was offered a great sum of money by the king of Lydia, he thanked him for his kindness; but told him he had more already by half than he knew what to do with. In short, content is equivalent to wealth, and luxury to poverty; or to give the thought a more agreeable turn, "Content is natural wealth," says Socrates; to which I shall add, luxury is artificial poverty. I shall therefort recommend to the consideration of those, who are alwar aiming at superfluous and imaginary enjoyments, and who wil not be at the trouble of contracting their desires, an excellent saying of Bion the philosopher, namely, "That no mal has so much care, as he who endeavours after the most happiness."

In the second place, every one ought to reflect how much more unhappy he might be than he really is. 'The former consideration took in all those who are sufficiently provided with the means to make themselves easy: this regards such as actually lie under some pressure or misfortune. These may receive great alleviation from such a comparison as the unhappy person may make between himself and others; of between the misfortune which he suffers, and greater mi fortunes which might have befallen him.

I like the story of the honest Dutchman, who, upon brea! ing his leg by a fall from the main-mast, told the standers it was a great merey that it was not his neck. To whie since I am got into quotations, give me leave to add the sa ing of an old philosopher, who, after having invited some his friends to dine with him, was ruffled by a person th came into the room in a passion, and threw down the tab that stood before them: "Every one," says he, "has h calamity; and he is a happy man that has no greater the this." We find an instance to the same purpose, in the li of doctor Hammond, written by bishop Fell. As this gos man was troubled with a complication of distempers, whe he had the gout upon him, he used to thank God that it wa not the stone; and when he had the stone, that he had n both these distempers on him at the same time.

I cannot conclude this essay without observing, that ther never was any system besides that of Christianity, whic could effectually produce in the mind of man, the virtue have been hitherto speaking of. In order to make us cor tented with our condition, many of the present philosopher tell us that our discontent only hurts ourselves, without bea ing able to make any alteration in our circumstances: oth ers, that whatever evil befalls us is derived to us by a fate necessity, to which superiour beings themselves are subject while others, very gravely, tell the man who is miserable that it is necessary he should be so, to keep up the harmon of the universe; and that the scheme of Providence woul be troubled and perverted, were he otherwise. These an the like considerations rather silence than satisfy a mar They may show him that his discontent is unreasonable, bu they are by no means sufficient to relieve it. They rathe give despair than consolation. In a word, a man might re ply to one of these comforters, as Augustus did to his friend who advised him not to grieve for the death of a persor whom he loved, because his grief could not fetch him again "It is for that very reason," said the emperor, "that grieve."

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On the contrary, religion bears a more tender regard to human nature. It prescribes to every miserable man the means of bettering his condition; nay, it shows him, that bearing his afflictions as he ought to do, will naturally end in the removal of them. It makes him easy here, because i can make him happy hereafter.

ADDISON

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SECTION ΧΙΙ.

Rank and Riches offord no Ground for Envy.

OF all the grounds of envy among men, superiority in rank nd fortune is the most general. Hence, the malignity which me poor commonly bear to the rich, as engrossing to themelves all the comforts of life. Hence the evil eye with which persons of inferior station scrutinize those who are bove them in rank; and if they approach to that rank their nvy is generally strongest against such as are just one step igher than themselves.-Alas! my friend, all this envious isquietude, which agitates the world, arises from a deceitful igure which imposes on the publiek view. False colours re hung out: the real state of men is not what it seems to

e.

The order of society requires a distinction of ranks to ake place; but in point of happiness, all men come much hearer to equality than is commonly imagined; and the circumstances, which form any material difference of happiness among them, are not of that nature which renders them grounds of envy. The poor man possesses not, it is true, sonte of the conveniences and pleasures of the rich; but in return, he is free from many embarrassments to which they are subject. By the simplicity and uniformity of his life, he is Jelivered from that variety of cares, which perplex those who have great affairs to manage, intricate plans to pursue, many enemies, perhaps, to encounter in the pursuit. In the tranquillity of his small habitation, and private family, he enjoys a peace which is often unknown at courts. The gratifications of nature, which are always the most satis. factory, are possessed by him to their full extent: and if he be a stranger to the refined pleasures of the wealthy, he is unacquainted also with the desire of them, and by consequence feels no want. His plain meal satisfies his appetite, with a relish probably higher than that of the rich man, who sits down to his luxurious banquet.-His sleep is more sound; his health more firm; he knows not what spleen, languor, and listlessness are. His accustomed employments or labours are not more oppressive to him, than the labour of attendance on courts and the great, the labours of dress, the fatigue of amusements, the very weight of idleness, frequently are to the rich. In the mean time, all the beauty of the face of nature, all the enjoyments of domestic society, all the gaiety and cheerfulness of an easy mind, are as open to him as to those of the highest rank. The splendor of retinue, the sound of titles, the appearances of high respect, are indeed soothing, for a