How "low, flat, ftale, and unprofitable, feem all the uses of this world," when the mind, boldly foaring beyond this lower sphere, indulges the idea that the pleasures which result from a life of innocence and virtue may be faintly analagous to the felicities of Heaven! At leaft, I truft we may be permitted unoffendingly to conceive, according to our worldly apprehenfion, that a free and unbounded liberty of thought and action, a high admiration of the univerfal fyftem of Nature, a participation of the Divine Effence, a perfect communion of friendship, and a pure interchange of love, may be a portion of the enjoyments we hope to experience in those regions of eternal peace and happiness where no impure or improper fentiment can taint the mind. But notions like these, although they agreeably flatter our imaginations,* X 2

shed

* Men in general fondly hope to find in the next world all that is flattering to their taftes, inclinations, defires, and pasfions, in the present. I therefore entirely concur in opinion with M. Garve, a celebrated German philofopher, that those perfons, who hope that God will hereafter reward them with riches and honours, cannot poffefs true humility of heart. It was fentiments like thefe which occafioned an extremely beautiful young lady to wish the might be permitted to carry with her, when she died, a fine garment of filver tiffue, richly zoned with feathers, and to walk in Heaven on carpets of rofe leaves, fpread upon the firmament. It was alfo from fimilar fentiments, that, in a full affembly of women of fashion, where the question was agitated, Whether marriages were good to all eternity that they unanimously exclaimed, "God forbid it !"

fhed at present but a glimmering light upon this awful fubject, and muft continue, like dread and vifions of the mind, until the clouds and thick darkness which furround the tomb of mortality no Jonger obfcure the bright glories of everlasting life; until the veil fhall be rent asunder, and the Eternal fhall reveal those things which no eye hath feen, no ear has heard, and which passeth all understanding. For I acknowledge, with awful reverence, and filent fubmiffion, that the knowledge of eternity is to the human intellect like that which the colour of crimson appeared to be in the mind of a blind man, who compared it to the found of a trumpet.* I cannot, however, conceive, that a notion more comfortable can be entertained, than that eternity promises a conftant and uninterrupted tranquillity; although I am perfectly conscious that it is impoffible to form an adequate idea of the nature of that enjoyment which is produced by a happiness without end. An everlasting tranquillity is in my imagination the higheft poffible felicity, because I know of no felicity upon earth higher than that which a peaceful mind and contented heart afford.

SINCE, therefore, internal and external tranquillity is, upon earth, an inconteftable com

mencement

See Locke's Effay on the Human Understanding.

mencement of beatitude, it may be extremely useful to believe, that a rational and qualified feclufion from the tumults of the world may fo highly rectify the faculties of the human foul, as to enable us to acquire in "blifsful Solitude" the elements of that happiness we expect to enjoy in the world to come.

4

He is the happy man whofe life e'en now
Shows somewhat of that happier life to come,
Who, doom'd to an obscure but tranquil state,
Is pleas'd with it, and, were he free to choose,
Would make his fate his choice; whom peace, the
fruit

Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of faith,
Prepare for happiness; befpeak him one
Content, indeed, to fojourn while he muft
Below the skies, but having there his home,
The world o'erlooks him in her busy search
Of objects more illuftrious in her view;
And, occupy'd as earnestly as she,
Though more fublimely, he o'erlooks the world.
She fcorns his pleasures, for fhe knows them not;
He seeks not hers, for he has prov'd them vain.
He cannot skim the ground like such rare birds
Pursuing gilded flies, and fuch he deems

Her honours, her emoluments, her joys.

Therefore in Contemplation is his blifs,

Whose power is such, that whom the lifts from earth She makes familiar with a Heav'n unfeen,

And fhows him glories yet to be reveal'd,

FINIS.

Addifon, his calm and tranquil death, 302.

Adverfity, foftened by Solitude, 235.

Age, the advantages it derives from Solitude, 6.

Albano, its rural beauties and effect, 118.

Alexander, his fondness for reading, 44; a thirst of

knowledge led him into Afia, 66.

Anacreon, the error of his opinion respecting the em

ployment of time, 35.

Antifthenes, a faying of his, 80.

Antoninus, his opinion of the beauty of univerfal nature,

101.

Arrogance, fometimes the effect of Solitude, 12.

Attention, its importance, 18; only to be acquired in Solitude, 19.

Anthony, the confequences of his love of dissipation,

67.

Auguftus offers Horace the place of private secretary,

94.

Aufterity, the companion of Solitude, 12.

Authors, the advantages they derive from Solitude described, 25, 52; a fervile author reprobated, 37; to write well they must be infpired, 52; the advantages they enjoy, 60..