the beginning of the creation;" because the general system of the world is carried on with constancy and regularity, therefore there is no alteration or succession of the individuals that compose it. They stop their ears against the mighty voice of the Creator proclaiming to all flesh that is upon the earth, "dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return;" and they shut their eyes to the operations of nature, while carrying into effect this solemn mandate of her Sovereign. And hence, as it was in the days of Noah with the great mass of mankind, so has it continued to be ever since, even to these latter days: they are guilty of the strange inconsistency, at one time of confining their attention to the present moment altogether, and at another of allowing to their worldly prospects an extent indefinitely great; "they eat and drink, they marry and are given in marriage," "the harp and the viol, the tabret and pipe, and wine are in their feasts;" and, "to-morrow," say they, "shall be as this day, and much more abundant;" or, with more distant reference to futurity, they resolve to "go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy, and sell, and get gain ;" they lay up for themselves stores of good things to last beyond the limits of the most protracted life; but they very seldom bestow a thought on what they are to do in the end thereof.

What, then, are the reasons of that neglect, so

very common among mankind, of all consideration respecting their own mortality?-First; there is a certain mode, in which we are accustomed to regard examples of mortality, when they do occur, which has the effect of breaking their force,—of leaving a wrong impression on the mind, and even of diverting the attention from the subject altogether. When we hear that any one has paid the debt of nature, we immediately set ourselves to account for the fact; we say his constitution was weak, or in some particular respect faulty; we talk of his having died of this or that disease, occasioned by such or such a cause; and we often infer, that the result might have been different, if a different course of treatment had been pursued, or if earlier attention had been paid to the complaint. Now, all these things may be very true; we may be quite correct as to the proximate causes we have assigned for the fact in question; but then this manner of thinking and speaking has the tendency of keeping out of sight, and sinking the important truth, that the particular occurrence before us is only an individual instance of the operation of a general system, the laws of which are invariable, however the effects of them be modified by occasional circumstances. No one certainly, from the belief that the death of another person might have been retarded, would directly and openly conclude that his own may be there

fore altogether prevented; and yet, however extravagant it may seem, a practical notion to this effect is really engendered in the mind, though tacitly, and imperceptibly to the person himself who forms it, in consequence of viewing death in this partial and imperfect light; for that, which may happen in the case of another, as to prevention or remedy, we naturally infer may equally happen in our own, especially as we are so deeply interested in bestowing all possible care and attention upon ourselves; and, if death may be dismissed once, disappointed of his hope, why not again and again? and thus his final triumph over us is considered as an event which may be deferred to an indefinite period, and, being seen only in distant and dim perspective, becomes too faint to excite the attention, or to leave any permanent traces on the mind.

Again, the opinion that death is an evil, occasions an unwillingness to examine it more frequently or minutely than we are obliged to do. But this is the result of a very short-sighted policy, and only augments the mischief which it was intended to prevent; for terrific objects of every kind, when thought of at all, acquire additional horror from being veiled in obscurity; and the mind, when uncertain of the extent of the evil it apprehends, has the more scope and the stronger propensity for investing it with all the

formidable imagery of fancy. The mode, which prudence no less than courage would suggest, for meeting danger to the greatest advantage, is to meet it fairly and openly: to observe an enemy, whom we are destined to encounter, as often and as narrowly as we can; to view him on all sides, and in different directions, that we may discover what are his means of annoyance, and wherein his principal strength consists, are the only methods by which we can prepare ourselves, when the hour of action shall arrive, for advancing to the combat with any rational prospect of obtaining the victory. It is the adoption of a contrary course of conduct in anticipation of the conflict, which they must one day maintain with the King of Terrors, that reduces a large portion of mankind to that lamentable condition in which we find them; unable to enjoy the present from their dire forebodings of the future, and continuing, “through fear of death, to be all their lifetime subject to bondage."

But the more immediate and particular cause, perhaps, which stifles all such inquiries in the outset, is the notion that they must naturally lead to melancholy: the valley of the shadow of death is conceived to be a region which admits of no pleasurable excursions; where nothing is to be seen but nakedness and gloom, and nothing heard but sounds of lamentation and woe. The truth,

however, is, that the nature of the prospects which it presents, depends upon ourselves, and the temper and purposes with which we view them. While engaged in such researches with pious motives, we doubtless tread on solemn and holy ground, but diversified with objects so grand and yet so softened, that while they elevate, they tranquillise the mind, and bring it into sweet accordance with the character of the surrounding scene. Now in such a temper of sober serenity, there is nothing whatever adverse to rational enjoyment; or, rather, there is much that has a tendency to promote it, by repressing, on the one hand, that mad impetuosity of mirth, which speedily consumes itself, and is succeeded by languor and sadness; and, on the other, by purifying the cup of pleasure from those noxious ingredients, whose taste is bitterness, and whose nourishment is poison. The turn of feeling and thought, which is produced by frequent reflections on mortality, will certainly deaden the sense to such criminal enjoyments as are pursued in the midnight orgies of intemperance and licentiousness, but it will cast no gloom whatever over the sprightly freedom of refined conversation, the honest warmth of friendly intercourse, and the mild endearments of domestic life.

Let us enter, then, upon this deserted though