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demning the idle man, and reprobating a spirit of procrastination. It runs thus :


and as

Incipe,–Vivendi recte qui prorogat horam,
Rusticus expectat dum defluat Amnis; at ille
Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis EVUM,

Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise;
He who defers this work from day to day,
Does on a river's bank expecting stay,
Till the whole stream which stopp'd him should be gone,

for EVER will run on.

COWLEY. Deriving so much gratification from the contemplation of this elysium of England, interspersed with the mansions of the great and wealthy, it gives you a kind of property in every thing brought within the sphere of vision. Thus, “ when I ate in the country," says the amiable Bishop Berkeley, “all the fine seats near the place of my residence, and to which I have access, I regard as mine. The same I think of the groves where I walk. In a word, all I desire is the use of things, let who will have the keeping of them. By this means I am grown one of the richest men in Great Britain, with this difference, that I am not a prey to my own cares nor to the envy of others." Innumerable indeed are the mistakes made about the nature of human happiness. It does not consist in abundance; it arises not from the multitude of our possessions. What is external, does not always penetrate within, or sink down into the region of the heart



Virtue alone has that to give,
Which makes it joy to die or live;
Whilst Vice can only that supply,
Which makes it pain to live or die!

The mind, the immortal mind, is the Hell of suffering, or the Heaven of enjoyment. Nor is it actual possession, but anticipation of future good that enters into the essence of human felicity. Hence, a modern writer has observed, with equal justice and beauty, * " . Hope is in fact the paradise of all. Hence the following inscription might not inappropriately be placed on the portico of a TEMPLE, commanding a rich and variegated prospect :


1. “If, oh stranger, thou art wronged by fortune or injured by men, bowed down with age or rendered loathsome by disease, in this temple shalt thou find ạ refuge and a sanctuary.

“ And yet, stranger, what can I do for thee?

“ If thou art hungry I can give thee no meat; if athirst I can give thee no drink ; if poor no wealth have I to shower upon thee; and if thou art sick or in

age I have no balsam or elixir to administer.

* See an interesting publication, entitled Amusements in Retirement, or the Infuence of Science, Literature, and the Liberal Arts, on the Manners and Happiness of Private Life. By the Author of the Philosophy of Nature.




Ah! stranger! what then can I do for thee


“Freely enter into this my temple, place a confidence in all that I shall whisper to thee; then though thou shalt eat nothing, drink nothing, see no honours heaped upon thee, or feel no riches showered upon thee,-yet shouldst thou be blind, sick and lame, indigent, miserable, and an outcast; from the recesses of this sanctuary shalt thou not depart without the energy of a new existence : for

“ 'I am Hope, and this is my

Temple !'”

Hope, indeed, is the master passion of the soul : “ Travelling along with us throughout the journey of life, nor quits us when we die.” But then, Hope, threefold in its constitution must be well founded, having for its object a real good, a distant good, and a good of probable attainment. Thus springs up in every condition a pure and equable felicity.

But so deceptive are terrestrial objects, that our attachment becomes the source of grief and sorrow. The Christian Religion is the alone dispenser of that Hope which maketh not ashamed; for Young truly exclaims

He that builds on less than an immortal base,
Fond as he seems, condemns his joys to death!



And a female writer has these neat and expressive lines

Yes, gentle Hope! sweet cheering pow'r,

Thou never prov'st unkind;
At thy approach, the fiend despair,

Swift flies the tortur'd mind.

What though afliction's storm seems long,

Yet with this life 'twill cease;
Time soon will bring me to the tomb,

Where I shall rest in peace.
Beyond the Grave, that soon must close

Around my mould'ring clay,
My kind conductress leads me on

To realms of ENDLESS DAY. * The Supreme Being is the only source and consummation of human enjoyment. “Converting matter into life, and death into eternity, no power and no time effect a change in him! Grasping all the past, the present and the future, he is the Father of all causes, sole origin of beauty, order and sublimity, immutable and ineffable! His moral perfections relieve us from the grandeur of his power; and having no beginning, and incapable of self-annihilation, his existence is in infinity, his duration is a past and future present, his power implies omnipotence, and his knowledge omniscience, and his essence being

* See an excellent little volume, entitled Poems on Moral and

Subjects, third edition, by Alice Flowerdew This lady now presides over a respectable Seminary for young ladies, at Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk.



invisible, and his nature inconceivable, his character involves a great, a good, and an infinite unknown, whose transitions are from light to light, from GLORY to GLORY, from PERFECTION to PERFEC

TION " *

The rapid circulation of the wheel soon brought us to TWICKENHAM, It lies in the hundred of Isleworth, and county of Middlesex; ten miles distant from the metropolis; containing about 600 houses and 3000 inhabitants. The church is a modern, plain building, in the erection of which the Doric order was followed. The interior is decorated with some neat monuments; but Mr. POPE's monument is most deserving of attention :

Brilliant fancy, judgment clear,
Melody beyond compeer,
Quick intelligence of mind,
Reason strong and thought refin'd,
All that genius, all that art
Can of magic force impart,
Varied beauties to display,
Meet in Pope's enchanting lay!

Lady Manners.

It appears that the parents of Pope were interred in the same vault, and the son gratefully placed a tablet to their memory. Much to his honour he

* See note, p. 107.

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