than to love; and like the vine, it withers and dies, if it has nothing to embrace. Now this affection in the state of innocence was happily pitched upon its right object; it flamed up in direct fervours of devotion to God, and in collateral emissions of charity to its neighbour. It was a vestal and a virgin fire, and differed as much from that which usually passes by this name now-a-days, as the vital heat from the burning of a fever.

HATRED.

No rancour, no hatred of our brother: an innocent nature could hate nothing that was innocent. In a word, so great is the commutation, that the soul then hated only that, which now only it loves, i. e. sin.

ANGER.

ANGER then was like the sword of Justice, keen, but innocent and righteous. It did not act like fury, and then call it self-zeal. It always espoused God's honour: and never kindled upon anything but in order to a sacrifice. It sparkled like the

inclination to goodness is imprinted deeply in the nature of man, insomuch, that if it issue not towards men, it will take unto other living creatures; as it is seen in the Turks, a cruel people, who nevertheless are kind to beasts, and give alms to dogs and birds; insomuch, as Busbechius reporteth a Christian boy in Constantinople had like to have been stoned for gagging in a waggishness a long-billed fowl.

coal upon the altar, with the fervours of piety, the heats of devotion, the sallies and vibrations of a harmless activity.‡

JOY.

IN the next place, for the lightsome passion of joy. It was not that which now often usurps this name; that trivial, vanishing, superficial thing, that only gilds the apprehension, and plays upon the surface of the soul. It was not the mere crackling of thorns, a sudden blaze of the spirits, the exultation of a tickled fancy or a pleased appetite. Joy was then a masculine and a severe thing the recreation of the judgment, the jubilee of reason. It was the result of a real good suitably applied. It commenced upon the solidities of truth and the substance of fruition. It did not run out in voice or undecent eruptions, but filled the soul, as God does the universe, silently and without noise.

SORROW.

Had any

AND, on the other side, for sorrow. loss or disaster made but room for grief, it would have moved according to the severe allowances of prudence, and the proportions of the provocation. It would not have sallied out into complaint or loudness, nor spread itself upon the face, and writ sad stories upon the forehead. No wringing of

Ante, 43.

the hands; knocking the breast, or wishing one's self unborn; all which are but the ceremonies of sorrow, the pomp and ostentation of an effeminate grief: which speak not so much the greatness of the misery, as the smallness of the mind. Sorrow then would have been as silent as thought, as severe as philosophy. It would have rested in inward senses, tacit dislikes; and the whole scene of it been transacted in sad and silent reflections.†

FEAR.

It is now indeed an unhappiness, the disease of the soul; it flies from a shadow, and makes more dangers than it avoids: it weakens the judgment and betrays the succours of reason. It was then the instrument of caution, not of anxiety; a guard, and not a torment to the breast. It fixed upon him who is only to be feared-God; and yet with a filial fear, which at the same time both fears and loves. It was awe without amazement, dread without distraction. There was then a beauty even in its very paleness. It was the colour of devotion, giving a lustre to reverence and a gloss to humility.

THE BODY.

ADAM was no less glorious in his externals; he had a beautiful body, as well as an immortal soul.

+ See ante, 9.

See ante, 76.

Perfection.

The whole compound was like a well built temple, stately without, and sacred within.*

GRATITUDE AND INGRATITUde.

GRATITUDE is properly a virtue, disposing the mind to an inward sense and an outward acknowledgment of a benefit received, together with a readiness to return the same or the like, as the occasions of the doer of it shall require, and the abilities of the receiver extend to. David in the overflowing sense of God's goodness to him cries out in the 116 Psalm, verse 12, ،، What shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits towards me?" So the grateful person pressed down upon the apprehension of any great kindness done him, eases his burthened mind a little by such expostulations with himself as these: "What shall I do for such a friend, for such a patron, who has so frankly, so generously, so unconstrainedly, relieved me in such a distress; supported me against such an enemy; supplied, cherished, and upheld me,

when relations would not know me, or at least could not help me; and, in a word, has prevented my desires, and outdone my necessities ?"* Ingratitude is an insensibility of kindnesses received, without any endeavour either to acknowledge or repay them. Ingratitude sits on its throne, with pride at its right hand and cruelty at its left, worthy supporters of such a state. You may rest upon this as a proposition of an eternal unfailing truth, that there neither is, nor ever was any person remarkably ungrateful, who was not also insufferably proud; nor, convertibly, any one proud, who was not equally ungrateful. For as snakes breed in dunghills not singly, but in knots, so in such base noisome hearts, you shall ever see pride

* I subjoin a specimen of "GRATITUDE," as taught by the Moralist, the Historian, and the Poet.

THE MORALIST.

Examples of ingratitude check and discourage voluntary beneficence and in this the mischief of ingratitude consists. Nor is the mischief small; for after all is done that can be done, by prescribing general rules of justice, and enforcing the observation of them by penalties or compulsion, much must be left to those offices of kindness, which men remain at liberty to exert or withhold.-Paley's Moral Philosophy, 234.

THE HISTORIAN.

The father of Caius Toranius had been proscribed by the triumvirate. Caius Toranius, coming over to the interests of that party, discovered to the officers, who were in pursuit of his father's life, the place where he concealed himself, and gave them withal a description, by which they might distinguish his person, when they found him. The old man, more