tion, indeed, must inevitably be destroyed by the revolution of time, which brings with it the object that we have in view: and if our hopes then prove to have been ill grounded, the chagrin of frustrated expectations is a consequence too obvious to need being mentioned: but if we are even fortunate enough to meet with a full completion of our wishes, it does not equally follow, that we should enjoy the happiness proposed: perhaps, after all, we shall find a kind of disappointment even in the gratification of our desires; for appearances of happiness fill the eye with fancied grandeur at a distance, but, contrary to other objects of sight, gradually diminish upon the nearness of our approach. But the idea of felicity being derived from hope, will appear still more groundless if we consider the uncertainty which must necessarily attend it. When we rely upon events which are yet to come, we submit ourselves to the direction of an arbitrary and capricious fortune; and shall, perhaps, to our misfortune experience, that the best concerted schemes, and most probable expectations, are easily frustrated by innumerable casualties, which it is not in our power to foresee, nor, if we foresee, to prevent. It is not, however, requisite to enlarge upon that most trite of all topics, the instability of human events; enough, I think, has been said to prove, that whatever bliss we may propose to ourselves in contemplating the bright appearances of our future life, and "in fancy swallowing up the space between," it cannot possibly be either permanent or self-derived; which qualities, though they be not of themselves able to

form a complete system of happiness, are yet so far necessary, as to render any system incomplete which is without them.

I shall now take a view of those pleasures which 'arise from a retrospect of our past lives, and endeavour so to contrast them with those already considered, as may make them appear with additional beauty from the comparison.

It must, however, be allowed that, situated as we are in this world, subservient to the smiles and frowns of fortune, a serene tranquillity is the highest happiness we have reason to expect, and that that subtle pleasure, which is pursued with so much avidity by the gay and the dissipated, is a mere phantom, without any other existence than in the imaginations of its eager votaries. Hence the pleasures which originate from a cool and dispassionate use of our reason must be more satisfactory than those which we derive from the violent emotions of our most forcible passions. But in no exercise can we employ our reasoning faculty to greater advantage, than when we conjecture with superior certainty upon future events, by well considering and reflecting upon those which we have already experienced.

We have before seen that in our views of futurity, we are liable to be made miserable by the dread of bad fortune, as well as happy by the sanguine preoccupation of good. Here then the pleasures of reflection evidently prove themselves superior; for the review of past happiness does not convey to us any higher satisfaction than the remembrance of difficulties which we have surmounted. It is here at last, that, freed from the shackles of fortune,

and every other external power which may have before entangled us, we make all our happiness centre within ourselves; and, like the industrious bees that produce honey as well out of bitter herbs as sweet, even out of the evils of life we extract the choicest and most refined bliss. Indeed, in the midst of our misfortunes we may be consoled by the consideration of being at some future period entertained with the thoughts of what now gives us pain; as Æneas is represented supporting his dejected companions by a similar consolation:

Forsan et hæc olim meminisse juvabit-Virg.

And as this bliss is self-derived and independent of any thing external, so is it also durable; for, as it is drawn from those transactions which we are conscious have already taken place, it is evident that nothing can put a period to its existence but the annihilation of that consciousness and faculty of remembering whence it was originally derived. From this consideration, it is plain, that a life of activity and exertion is so much the more preferable to a life of indolence and repose, as it affords more room for the exercise of this faculty. Our happiness, we have before seen, arises from the recollection of past pleasures, proportionably chequered with the remembrance of hardships which we have surmounted. Now the engagements of society so intersperse an active life with the anxious vicissitudes of hope and fear, that we must unavoidably meet with many difficulties unknown in the still path of retirement, which, though disagreeable when encountered, nevertheless convey a

secret satisfaction to the mind in reflecting on them when subdued. The man, indeed, who secludes himself from the cares of the world, remains at the same time unroused by the pleasing emotions which others enjoy; and in the decline of age will look back upon the continued sameness of his past life with a listless indifference; for if in the sunshine of youth his happiness glow with a warmth scarcely vital, how can the remembrance of it as faintly reflected by a lukewarm imagination cheer his drooping spirits in the winter of old age? In opposition to this languor of a life worn out in inaction, it may, perhaps, be needless to instance with what lively spirits the aged votaries of ambition or wealth indulge themselves in ease after the toils of a long and laborious pursuit after their respective objects; with what pleasure the soldier dwells upon the narrative of his honourable though dangerous exploits; how the sailor rejoices whilst he recounts the rocks and tempests which he has so perilously surmounted.

-Gaudent ut vertice raso

Garrula securi narrare pericula nautæ.—Juv.

But as all human happiness must inevitably be alloyed by some mixture of evil, and as the above view of the pleasure of reflection may seem to imply a species of happiness more perfect than is consistent with our present state, after having seen the joys which attend it, let us now examine into its concomitant evils; let us consider whether the debauchee, when the decay of his faculties prompts him to indulge in an indolent repose, looks back

with solid satisfaction upon those vicissitudes of pleasure and pain, the former of which he is conscious of having purchased at the expense of his innocence, the latter of having merited by his guilt; whether the remorse, arising from a consciousness of having violated every principle of justice and generosity, be compensated to the miser, by considering with what labour he has amassed his accumulated hoards: and, if upon this inquiry we find that the review of his past conduct serves rather to increase than to alleviate his present pains, we shall be led to infer, that the testimony of a good conscience is another requisite towards completing that happiness which we have in view. He, who by his worldly wisdom is enabled to withstand the most violent attacks of fortune, if he possess not this cheerful companion within his breast, will still be a stranger to any true peace or comfort; he will view even the smiles of prosperity without satisfaction, and, finding naught but a turbulent confusion in his own bosom, will shrink back with horror from himself. It appears then, that though many accidental circumstances may contribute to heighten the beauties of this review, the essential requisite is a mind conscious of unerring rectitude; and, as this is entirely dependent upon ourselves, that we have it in our power, by our own conduct, to provide for the decline of age, when our natural infirmities require an additional consolation, a never-failing source of true and placid enjoyment.

I have seen it somewhere recommended, that, in order to enjoy the pleasures of the imagination in our nightly dreams, we should be able to rest upon