ity in preferring that, which is of less consequence, to that which is of greater. We are always to endeavour, as before observed, to view things in the light, they may be supposed to appear in to the All-comprehensive Mind. But I cannot bring myself to believe, that my life appears to the Supreme Mind of such importance, that it ought to be preserved to the prejudice of sacred and eternal truth; that it is better, the people should perish for one man, than one man for the people.

If the heroes and sages among the Heathens, who had no such sure prospect of a future existence as we have, or may have; if they, whose views of a life to come, were rather strong desires, than well established hopes; if they showed such a contempt of the present life, as to give it up with joy and triumph for the service of their country, and for the sake of truth; of which history furnishes instances almost innumerable; it were to be expected, that we should, in the contempt of life, greatly exceed them; which, to our shame, is far from being the case.

A competency of the good things of life being necessary for the support of life, it is evident, that a reasonable degree of care, industry, and frugality, is altogether proper; of which I have treated pretty copiously in the first part of this work. Whenever this care for the conveniences of life proceeds to such a length, as to produce a love of riches for their own sake, it is then, that a man shows himself bewildered and lost to all rational and judicious views, and enchanted with a mere imaginary object of no real value in itself. That a man should bestow his whole labour in heaping up pieces of metal, or paper, and should make his very being wretched, because he cannot get together the quantity he aims at, which he does not need, nor would use, if he had them in his possession; is much the same wisdom, as if he spent his life in filling his magazines with cockle-shells, or pebbles. If it be likewise remembered, that every passion indulged, becomes in time an unconquerable habit, and that a fixed love of sordid riches is altogether unsuitable to the spiritual, immortal state, for which we were intended, where gold and silver will be of no value; if it be considered, that a great degree of avarice is wholly inconsistent with every generous sentiment, and even with common honesty; and that any

constant pursuit whatever, which engages the whole attention, and takes it off from those sublime views of futurity, and those preparations for immortality, which are absolutely necessary toward our being found fit for that final state, is highly criminal; if these, and various other considerations, be allowed their due weight, it will appear, that covetousness is a vice altogether unsuitable to the dignity of our nature, and that the safe side to err on, with regard to riches, is, To be too indifferent, rather than too anxious about them.

If the sole design of the appetite of hunger be, to oblige us mechanically, by means of pain, to take that due care of supporting the body by proper nourishment, which we could not have been so agreeably, and effectually brought to, by pure reason; it is obvious, that the view we ought to have in eating, is the support of life. That kind of food, which is fittest for nourishing the body, and the least likely to breed diseases, is evidently the best. And if artificial dishes, unnatural mixtures, and high sauces, be the least proper for being assimilated into chyle and blood, and the most likely to produce humours un friendly to the constitution; what is commonly called rich feeding is, in truth, slow poison. It is therefore very strange, that men should have so little command of themselves, that for the sake of the trifling pleasure of having their palates tickled with a savoury taste, they should venture the shortening of their days. At the same time, that the enormous expense of a rich table might be spared, and the same or indeed a much higher pleasure, in eating, might be enjoyed, if people would but give themselves time and exercise to acquire a hearty appetite. But I really believe, that is what some have never experienced, and consequently have no conception of.

The vices we are in danger of running into, by which our table may become a snare to us, bestowing too great expense, or too much time at our meals, over-gorging nature, or hurting our health by a wrong choice of food. Nothing seems more evident, than that to waste or squander away the good gifts of Providence, especially in so sordid a manner, as upon the materials of gluttony, is altogether unjustifiable. The only rational notion we can form of the design of Providence in bestowing riches upon

some, and sinking others in poverty, is, That men are placed in those different circumstances with a view to the trial and exercise of different virtues. So that riches are to be considered as a stewardship, not to be lavished away in pampering our vices, and supporting our vanity, but to be laid out in such a manner as we shall hereafter be able to answer for, to Him, who entrusted us with them. And whoever bestows yearly in gorging and gluttony, what might support a great many families in industry and frugality, let him see to the consequences.

Again, if we be really spirits, though at present embodied; it seems pretty plain, that the feeding of the body ought not to engross any great proportion of our time. If indeed we look upon ourselves as more body than spirit, we ought then to bestow the principal attention upon the body. But this is what few will care to own in words; which makes their declaring it by their practice the more absurd, and inconsistent.

If it be our duty to preserve our health and life for usefulness in our station, it can never be innocent in us to pervert the very means appointed for the support of the body, to the destruction of the body. We are here upon duty, and are to keep upon our post, till called off. And he who trifles with life, and loses it upon any frivolous occasion, must answer for it hereafter to the Author of Life.

Lastly, if it be certain, that in the future world of spirits, to which we are all hastening, there will be no occasion for this appetite, nor any gratifying of appetites at all, nothing is more evident, than the absurdity of indulging it in such an unbounded and licentious manner, as to give it an absolute ascendant over us, and to work it into the very mind, so as it shall remain, when the body, for whose sake it was given, has no farther occasion for it. The design our Maker had in placing us in this state of discipline, was to give us an opportunity of cultivating in our selves other sorts of habits than those of gluttony and sensuality.

Of the many fatal contrivances, which our species, too fertile in invention, have hit upon for corrupting themselves, defacing the blessed Maker's image upon the mind, and perverting the end of their creation: none would ap

pear more unaccountable, if we were not too well accustomed to see instances of it, than the savage vice of drunkenness. That ever it should become a practice for rational beings to delight in overturning their reason; that ever men should voluntarily choose, by swallowing a magical draught, to brutify themselves; nay, to sink themselves below the level of the brutes; for drunkenness is peculiar to our species; this madness must appear to other orders of being, wonderfully shocking. No man can bear the least reflection upon his understanding, whatever he will upon his virtue. Yet men will indulge a practice, by which experience convinces them, they will effectually lose their understanding, and become perfect idiots. Unthinking people are wont to look with great contempt upon natural fools. But in what light ought they to view a fool of his own making? What can be conceived more unsuitable to the Dignity of Human Nature, than the drunkard, with his eyes staring, his tongue stammering, his lips quivering, his hands trembling, his legs tottering, his stomach heaving. Decency will not suffer me to pro ceed in so filthy a description. The swine, wallowing in the mire, is not so loathsome an object as the drunkard; for nature in her meanest dress is always nature: but the drunkard is a monster out of nature. The only rational being upon earth reduced to absolute incapacity of reason, or speech! A being formed for immortality sunk into filth and sensuality! A creature endowed with capacities for being a companion of angels, and inhabiting the etherial regions, in a condition not fit to come into a clean room, among his fellow creatures! The lord of this world sunk below the vilest of the brutes!

One would think all this was bad enough; but there is much worse to be said against this most abominable and fatal vice. For there is no other that so effectually and so suddenly unhinges and overturns all virtues, and destroys every thing valuable in the mind, as drunkenness. For it takes off every restraint, and opens the mind to every temptation. So that there is no such expeditious way for a person to corrupt and debauch himself, to turn himself from a man into a demon, as by intoxicating himself, with strong liquor. Nor is there, perhaps, any other habit so bewitching, and which becomes so soon uncon

querable as drunkenness. The reason is plain. There is no vice which so effectually destroys reason. And when the faculties of the mind are overturned, what means can the unhappy person use, or what course can another take with him, to set him right? To attempt to reform a confirmed drunkard, is much the same as preaching to a madman, or idiot. Reason, the helm of the mind, once destroyed, there is nothing remaining wherewith to steer it. It must then be left to run adrift.

It is deplorable to think of the miserable pretences made use of to apologize for this beastly vice. One excuses himself by his being necessarily obliged to keep company. But it is notorious that nothing more effectually disqualifies a man for company, than to have his tongue tied, and his brains stupified with liquor. Besides, no man is obliged to do himself a mischief, to do another no kindness. Another pretends he is drawn by his business or way of life, to taverns and places of entertainment. But a man must never have been drunk, nor even seen another drunk, to imagine that strong liquor will help him in driving bargains. On the contrary, every body knows, that one is never so likely to be imposed on as when he is in liquor. Nor is the pretence of drinking to drive away care, to pass the time, or to cheer the spirits, more worthy of a rational creature. If, by the force of strong liquor, a man's cares may be mechanically banished, and his conscience lulled asleep for a time, he can only expect them to break loose upon him afterwards with the greater fury. He who artificially raises his spirits by drinking, will find them sink and flag in proportion. And then they must be raised again; and so on, till at last he has no spirits to raise. For understanding, and fortune, and virtue, and health, all fall before this dreadful destroyer. As for drinking to pass the time, instead of an excuse, it is an aggravation. It is criminal enough to waste expense and health, without lavishing precious time besides.

Nor is the pretence of being odious among one's neigh. bours, and being looked upon as a precise fellow, for living temperately, any better than the others. Alas! we are not hereafter to stand or fall by the opinion of our neighbours. Besides, we ourselves in many cases show a neglect of the opinion of mankind; and do not cross our