I am very much pleafed with the passage of Antiphanes, a very ancient poet, who lived near an hundred years before Socrates, which represents the life of an under this view, as I have here tranflated it word for word. Be not grieved, fays he, a bove measure for thy deceafed friends. They are not dead, but have only finished that journey which it is neceffary for every one of us to take: We ourselves must go to that great place of reception in which they are all of them affembled, and in this general rendezvous of mankind, live together in another state of Being.

I fhall not here take notice of thofe beautiful metaphors in fcripture, where life is termed a pilgrimage, and thofe who pass through it are juftly called ftrangers and fojourners upon earth; but fhall conclude this serious differtation with a story, which I have fomewhere read in the travels of Sir John Chardin: That gentleman, after having told us, that the inns which receive the caravans in Perfia, and the eastern countries, are called by the name of Caravanfaries, gives us a relation to the following purpose.

A Dervife, travelling thro' Tartary, being arrived at the town of Balk, went into the king's palace by mistake, as think

ing

ing it to be a publick inn or caravanfary. Having looked about him for fome time, he entered into a long gallery, where he laid down his wallet, & fpread his carpet, in order to repofe himself upon it after the manner of the eastern nations. He had not been long in this pofture before he was discovered by fome of the guards, who asked him what was his bufinefs in that place? The Dervife told them he intended to take up his night's lodging in that caravanfary. The guards let him know, in a very angry manner, that the house he was in, was not a caravanfary, but the king's palace. It happenned that the king himfelf paffed through the gallery during this debate, and fmiling at the mistake of the Dervife, asked him how he could poffibly be fo dull as not to diftinguifh a palace from a caravanfary; Sir, fays the Dervife, give me leave to ask your majefty a queftion or two. Who were the perfons that lodged in this house when it was first built? the king replyed, his ancestors. And who, fays the Dervife, was the laft perfon that lodged here? The king replied, his father. And who is it, fays the Dervife, that lodges here at prefent? the king told him that it was he himself. And who, fays the dervife, will be here after you? The

་159 king anfwered, the young prince his fon. "Ah "fir, faid the Dervife, a houfe that changes "its inhabitants fo often, and receives fuch a perpetual fucceffion of guefts, is not a palace but a caravanfary.

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66

The Waste of Life. From Dr.Watts's Mifcel laneous Thoughts.

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NERGUS was a young gentleman of a good eftate, he was bred to no bufinefs, & could not contrive how to wafte his hours agreeably; he had no relish for any of the proper works of life, nor any tafte at all for the improvements of the mind: He spent generally ten hours of the four and twenty in his bed; he doz'd away two or three more on his couch, and as many were diffolved in good liquor every evening, if he met with if he met with company of his own humour. Five or fix of the reft he fauntered away with much indolence: The chief bufinefs of them was to contrive his meals, and to feed his fancy before-hand with the promise of a dinner and a fupper; not that he was fo very a glutton, or fo entirely devoted to appetite; but chiefly because he knew not how to employ his thoughts better, he let 'em rove about the fuftenance of his body. Thus he had made

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a fhift to wear off ten years fince the paternal eftate fell into his hands: And yet, according to the abuse of words in our day, he was call'd a man of virtue, because he fcarce ever was known to be quite drunk, nor was his nature much inclin'd to lewdnefs.

One evening, as he was mufing alone, his thoughts happened to take a most unufual turn, for they caft a glance backward, and began to reflect on his manner of life. He bethought himself what a number of living Beings had been made a facrifice to fupport his carcass, and how much corn & wine had been mingled with thofe offerings. He had not quite loft all the arithmetick that he learn'd when he was a boy, and he fet himself to compute what he had devoured fince he came to the age of man.

Above a dozen feather'd creatures, Small and great, have one week with another (faid he) given up their lives to prolong mine, which in ten years time amounts to at least fix thoufand.

Fifty Sheep have been facrificed in a year, with half a becatomb of black cattle, that I might have the choiceft part offered weekly upon my table. Thus a thousand beafts out of the flock and the herd have been fain in ten years time to feed me, befides what the forrest and

and the park have fupply'd me with. Many hundreds of fifbes have in all their varieties, been robbed of life for my repast, and of the fmaller fry as many thousands.

A measure of corn would hardly afford fine flour enough for a month's provifion, and this arifes to above fixfcore bufbels; and many hog fbeads of ale and wine, and other liquors, have paffed through this body of mine, this wretched ftrainer of meat and drink.

And what have I done all this time for GOD or man? What a vast profufion of good things upon an useless life, and a worthless liver? There is not the meanest creature among all these which I have devoured, but bath anfwered the end of its creation better than I. 'Twas made to fupport human nature, and it hath done fo. Every forimp and oyfter I have eat, and every grain of corn I have devoured, hath filled up its place in the rank of Beings with more propriety and honour than I have done: O fhameful waste of life and time!

In fhort, he carried on his moral reflections with so just and severe a force of reafon, as constrain'd him to change his whole courfe of life, to break off his follies at once, and to apply himself to gain fome useful knowledge, when he was more than thirty years of age: He lived many following Y

years,