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Regarding neither fortune, pow'r, nor state,
THE middle state of life is beft,
A WISE Heathen was of opinion, that if mankind, in general, had the power given them to change their ftation in life, and at the same time were made acquaint
ed ed with the inconveniences attending every other state, as well as their own, they would unanimously choose to continue in the fituation they were at first placed in by Providence.
THE first ingredient in conversation is truth; the next good sense ; the third good humour; the last wit.
DISCREET people generally have a reserve of necessaries before-hand, that when the time comes for using them, there may be no hurry and confusion.
CIVILITY over-acted, is always fufpicious. blast of thorns begins in a blaze, and foon ends in a smoke; but a fire, made of proper materials, designed to be useful and lasting, at its first kindling breaks out from a cloud of smoke, and grows clearer and brighter as it burns.
PLUTARCH (in his book of Friendship) directs us, to “ make a trial of our friends, as of our money, " and to be equally cautious of choosing both.” Tacitus tells us, that is the longer a friendship is contracted, so “ much the surer and more firm it is.” From this we may collect, that an old friend is always to be most valued, the best to be loved, and the firit to be trusted.
THE duties that are owing to friends, are integrity, love, counsel, and affiftance. It is not intimacy, and frequency of conversation, that makes a friend, but a disinterested observance of these duties.
« NEVER admit,” says the philosopher Seneca, “ vain glory in your heart; for human glory is at best
no more than human folly."
THE pleasing gales that gentle summer yields,
Amid the gay profusion of his store ; The smiles of nature, and of verdant fields,
Are all, alas! but bleflings of an hour.
How vast the beauties they around display,
Till dreary winter re-assumes his reign, And sternly bids them vanish and decay,
And leave no traces on the pensive plain! The golden cowflip, on th' enameli'd mead,
Displays his youthful glories to the view; But soon he droops his folitary head,
And yields his virtue to the evening's dew.
And every heart-felt comfort we enjoy ;
Each hour attempts our blessings to destroy.
And time afferts an all-prevailing pow'r ; Expanding beauties to the morning's ray,
We bloom to wither, as the tender flow'r. Not so the foul-its views sublime and pure,
Where faith, and hope, and charity unite, Shall rise, and dwell eternally secure,
In Heaven's unfading manfions of delight.
MERE bashfulness, without merit, is aukward; and merit, without modefty, infolent: but modest merit has a double claim to acceptance, and generally meets with as many patrons as beholders.
XENOPHON, in his Cyrus, which he designed for the perfect idea of a good prince, represents him, in the last minutes of his life, addressing himself to God to this purpose :
" Thou knowest that I have been a lover “ of mankind; and now that I am leaving this world, “ I hope to find that mercy from thee, which I have “ Thewn to others.”
THE man who keeps the golden mean,
THE limits of our life, how like a shade
We die with every breath ; no calling back
WHAT impression can treasure and great possessions make upon the mind that is contemplating, seriously, on the kingdom of Heaven, and a crown of glory that never fades away? What are the pomp and majesty of an earthly court; the magnificence of palaces and crouded theatres, to one who has in view the glories of heaven; the triumphs of the saints; and the ineffable splendour of the angelic order ? What are feasts, sports, plays, and all the varieties of sensual pleasures and delights, to him who stedfasily fixes his eye on celestial bliss, and everlasting transports of joy?
HE that would pass the latter part of life with honour and decency, must, when he is young, consider that he thall one day be old, and lay up knowledge for his fupport, when his powers of acting shall forfake him; and remember when he is old, that he has once been young, and forbear to animadvert, 'with unnecessary rigour, on faults which experience only can correct.
Written in the Holy Bible.
Τ Ο THE MOTHER
The darling to your breast,
Are you entirely bleft ?
By turns your thoughts employ.;
And grief, lucceeds to joy. Dear innocent, her lovely smiles
With what delight you view ! But ev'ry pain the infant feels,
The mother feels it too. Then whispers busy, cruel fear,
“ The child, alas ! may die !” And nature prompts the ready tear,
And heaves the rising figh.
With more than equal pain,
On earth, we fix in vain ?
Since here we cannot reft ;