and which finds its way into the most sequestered corners, a wise recluse has only to shut his door against it; unless he shall choose to give admittance to a very few ingenious fictions, which, by a striking display of the world in its vanities and its sorrows, may help to weaken his attachment to it.

I shall conclude this section with a general remark or two concerning virtue: first, as it is the product of action; and secondly, of contemplation.

The former, as it is much conversant with human affairs, is apt to acquire a human character, and to be more disposed to acts of beneficence and temporal utility than of devotion and piety; and thus, in its progress towards a better world, is very liable to interception, and to have its ardour wasted by a separate attention to the duties of the present life; whilst of the latter we may observe, that though it seems to partake more of divinity, to be

more disengaged from the earth, and to abound more in devout affections, there is danger lest, in its apparent approach to the worship of angels, it should fail in that practical benevolence towards men, without which it can have no just claim to the character of a solid piety.

Again: When a man's course of action is narrow and confined, as it always must be to the far greater part of the world, that virtue which results from it will generally partake of the limitation. He who has spent his days in some laborious employment within the bounds of his own parish, which is the case of multitudes, is not likely to feel much interest in what passes at a distance, though in his own contracted sphere he may display a high degree of moral worth. The same observation may be extended to every man who is trained up to active life; his principles may be just and pious, but their exercise, however exemplary, will commonly be limited by his exterior circumstances. On the other

hand, he who has been bred up in a contemplative retirement is less restricted by time or place, he can more easily transfer his attention to every period and region of the globe we inhabit, and, through the medium of history or prophecy, receive the impression of every interesting event from the beginning to the end of time; and soar aloft with a less obtructed wing above this sublunary state, and all contingent existence, to the contemplation of objects immutable and eternal.—Thus it appears, that neither an active or contemplative institution of life is so absolutely complete in itself, that each of them may not derive considerable assistance from a participation with the other. Happy then is he who can properly unite them both; who can behold the face of his Father in heaven, while he ministers to the welfare of his fellow-creatures upon earth; and whose virtue bears at once the impression of man and of the universe.

SECTION III.

On some Evils particularly incident to a retired Life, and which are contrary, or at least unfavourable, to Virtue; with a few Hints respecting their Remedies.

THE state of man here on earth is so beset with innumerable dangers, that he can, seldom make his escape from those which press hardest upon him, without exposing himself to others equally importunate. All the various conditions of human life, besides what they share in common, are each accompanied with their peculiar difficulties and temptations. Were there any exception to this remark, it might seem to be in favour of retirement with a competency; yet even this situation, highly privileged as it appears, is not without its particular incidental evils; among which we may enumerate the following:

I. Idleness.-The love of ease is natural to man, and influences his conduct in all

circumstances; but especially when, by abstraction from the world, he is placed at a distance from many of those objects which are suited to call forth his voluntary exertions; and when, at the same time, he is exempted by his fortune from the necessity of labour.

Let us suppose an independent country gentleman, who is content with his paternal acres, and never wanders from the ancient family residence. Since he has nothing to engage him at court, or in the city, he must endeavour to strike out some occupation which may preserve him from the evil of which we are speaking. Perhaps he may commence a sportsman, he may traverse the woods with his fowlingpiece, or halloo to his dogs in the chase; but, as these diversions can only be had at certain seasons of the year, and are also further suspended on good health and fair weather, they must subject their votary to many listless intervals. Like the savage in the wilderness, he will be in continual dan

P