life or its enjoyments without fettled principles, laudable purposes, mental exertions, and internal comfort ? It is a ftate worfe than non-entity, fince it poffeffes a restless power of action, productive of nothing but mifery. I very feriously recommend, therefore, to all who wish to enjoy their existence, (and who entertains not that wish?) that they fhould acquire not only a power of bearing, but of taking a pleasure in temporary folitude. Every one muft, indeed, fometimes be alone, Let him not repine when he is alone, but learn to set a value on the golden moments. It is then that he is enabled to study himself and the world around him. It is then that he has an opportunity of feeing things as they are, and of removing the deceitful veil, which almost every thing affumes in the busy scene of worldly employments. The foul is enabled to retire into herfelf, and to exert those energies which are always attended with fublime pleasure. She is enabled to fee the dependent, frail, and wretched state of man as the child of nature, and incited by her discovery to implore grace and protection from the Lord of the universe. They, indeed, who fly from folitude, can feldom be religious, for religion requires meditation. They may be faid to live without God in the world; not, it is true, from atheistical principles, but from a careleffness of difpofition; a truly deplorable state, the consciousness of which could not fail to cloud the gaiety of those halcyon beings, who fport in the funfhine of unremitted pleasure. I may, I believe, affert, that the love of pleasure, the follies of fashion, and the extravagancies of diffipation, are greater enemies to religion, than all the writers who have endeavoured to attract notice by attacking Chriftianity. Many, it is to be feared, have lived and died in the regions of gaiety, without ever having felt a fenfe of religion. Not only religion, virtue, and prudence, will be promoted by occafional folitude, but a relish will be given to to the rational enjoyments of a pleafurable life. Viciffitude is effential to every ftate of durable enjoyment. He who has spent a little part of his time in his closet or in his groves, will partake of the gaieties of the affembly with fresh delight; as a man, when he is hungry, finds an additional flavour in his daily food, But it must be remembered, that, in recommending folitude, I mean only occafional folitude. There is no doubt but man is made for action, and that his duties and pleasures are often moft numerous and most important amidst the "bufy hum of men." Many vices, and many corrupt difpofitions, have been foftered in a folitary life. But nothing without moderation is durable or wife. Let there be a fweet interchange of retirement and affociation, of repofe and activity. A few hours fspent every day by the votaries of pleasure in ferious meditation, would render their pleasure pure, and more unmixed with mifery. It would give them knowledge, fo that they would fee how far they might advance in their purfuit without danger; and refolution, fo that they might retreat when danger approached. It would teach them hove to live; a knowledge, which indeed they think they poffefs already; and it would alfo teach them, what they are often too little folicitous to learn, how to die. The Journey of a Day, a Picture of Human Life; the Story of Obidah. BIDAH, the fon of Abenfina, left the caravanfera early in the morning, and purfued his journey through the plains of Indoftan. He was fresh and vigorous with reft, he was animated with hope, he was incited by defire; he walked fwiftly forward over the vallies, and faw the hills rifing gradually before him. As he paffed along, his ears were delighted with the morning fong of the bird of paradife; he was fanned by the last flutters of the finking breeze, and fprinkled with dew by groves of fpices; he fometimes contemplated the towering height of the oak, monarch of the hills; and fometimes caught the gentle fragrance of the primrose, eldest daughter of the fpring: All his fenfes were gratified, and all care was banished from the heart. Thus he went on till the fun approached his meridian, and the increafing heat preyed upon his ftrength; he (9) he then looked round about him for fome more commodious path. He faw, on his right hand, a grove that seemed to wave its fhades as a fign of invitation; he entered it, and found the coolness and verdure irrefiftably pleasant. He did not, however, forget whither he was travelling, but found a narrow way bordered with flowers, which appeared to have the fame direction with the main road, and was pleased that, by this happy experiment, he had found means to unite pleasure with bufinefs, and to gain the rewards of diligence, without fuffering its fatigues. He, therefore, ftill continued to walk for a time, without the least remission of his ardour, except that he was fometimes tempted to stop by the mufic of the birds, whom the heat had affembled in the fhade, and fometimes amused himself with plucking the flowers that covered the banks on either fide, or the fruits that hung upon the branches. At laft the green path began to decline from its firft tendency, and to wind among hills and thickets, cooled with fountains, and murmuring with water-falls. Here Obidah paufed for a time, and be gan to confider whether it were longer fafe to forfake the known and common track; but remembering that the heat was now in its greatest violence, and that the plain was dufty and uneven, he refolved to pursue the new path, which he fuppofed only to make a few meanders, in compliance with the varieties of the ground, and to end at last in the common road. Having thus calmed his folicitude, he renewed his pace, though he fufpected that he was not gaining ground. This uneafinefs of his mind inclined him to lay hold on every new object, and give way to every fenfation that might foothe or divert him. He liftened to every echo, he mounted every hill for a fresh profpect, he turned afide to every cafcade, and pleafed himself with tracing the courfe of a gentle river that rolled among the trees, and watered a large region with innumerable circumvolutions. In thefe amufements the hours paffed away unaccounted; his devia tions had perplexed his memory, and he knew not towards what point to travel. He ftood penfive and confused, afraid to go forward left he fhould go wrong, yet conscious that the time of loitering was now past. While he was thus tortured with uncertainty, the sky was overfpread with clouds, the day vanished from before him, and a fudden tempeft gathered round his head. He was now roufed by his danger to a quick and painful remembrance of his folly; he now faw how happinefs is loft when eafe is confulted; he lamented the unmanly impatience that prompted him to feek shelter in the grove, and despised the petty curiofity that led him on from trifle to trifle. While he was thus reflecting, the air grew blacker, and a clap of thunder broke his meditation. He now refolved to do what remained yet in his power; to tread back the ground which he had paffed, and try to find fome iffue where the wood might open into the plain. He proftrated himself on the ground, and commended his life to the Lord of nature. He rofe with confidence and tranquillity, and preffed on with his fabre in his hand, for the beafts of the desert were in motion, and on every hand were heard the mingled howls of rage and fear, and ravage and expiration; all the horrors of darkness and folitude furrounded him; the winds roared in the woods, and the torrents tumbled from the hills. Work'd into sudden rage by wint'ry showers, Thus forlorn and diftreffed, he wandered through the wild without knowing whither he was going, or whether he was every moment drawing nearer to safety or to deftruction. At length, not fear, but labour began to overcome him; his breath grew fhort, his knees trembled, and he was on the point of lying down in refignation to his fate, when he beheld through the brambles the glimmer of a taper. He advanced to ward's |