with the greatest importunity, to be allowed to work; and often cried most heartily, if this favor was not instantly granted them. How sweet these tears were to me, can easily be imagined; and I always found that the joy they showed upon being permitted to descend from their benches, and mix with the working children below, was equal to the solicitude with which they had demanded that favor."

It is remarkable, when the body requires rest, the mind is very easily amused: after severe toil in hunting, or war, savages will remain whole days in a state of inactivity. Any thing which occupies the mind agreeably, or disagreeably, is an antidote to ennui: severe pain is not compatible with it. There is a story of a very respectable tradesman, who had retired from business, and who confessed to a friend of his, that the happiest month in the year to him, was the month in which his fit of the gout came on. He was so totally unable to fill up his time, that even the occupation afforded by pain was a relief to him.

There is no word in our language to signify the remembrance of evil that is past, as there is to signify the anticipation of the evil which is to come; no word contrasted to this meaning of fear: probably because the recollection of pain, is not very painful, as being contrasted with present ease; and because such recollection produces no events, and leads to nothing; whereas, fear the anticipation of evil-is a very remarkable passion, and immediately leads to a state of activity. Remorse is not the recollection of any past grief, but the sensation of present grief, for past faults now irremediable.

It appears, then, from this enumeration of the ungrateful passions, which lead men to act from feelings of aversion, that they are all referable to the memory of evil, the actual sensation, the future anticipation of it, or the resentment which any one of these notions is apt to excite. The remembrance of past evils, produces melancholy the sensation of present evils, if they be referred to the body, pain; if to the mind, grief. Envy, hatred, and malice, are all modifications of resentment, differing

in the causes which have excited that resentment, as well as in the degree in which it is entertained. Shame is that particular species of grief, which proceeds from losing the esteem of our fellow-creatures; fear, the anticipation of future evils. This is the catalogue of human miseries and pains; and it is plain why they have been added to our nature. By the miseries of the body, man is controlled within his proper sphere, and learns what manner of life it was intended he should lead: fear and suspicion are given to guard him from harm: resentment, to punish those who inflict it; and by punishment, to deter them. By the pain of inactivity, we are driven to exertion;-by the dread of shame, to labor for esteem. But all these pregnant and productive feelings are poured into the heart of man, not with any thing that has the air of human moderation,-not with a measure that looks like precision and adjustment,-but wildly, lavishly, and in excess. Providence only impels: it makes us start up from the earth, and do something; but whether that something shall be good or evil, is the arduous decision which that Providence has left to us. You can not sit quietly till the torch is held up to your cottage, and the dagger to your throat: if you could, this scene of things would not long be what it now is. The solemn feeling which rises up in you at such times, is as much the work of God, as the splendor of the lightning is His work; but that feeling may degenerate into the fury of a savage, or be disciplined into the rational opposition of a wise and a good man. You must be affected by the distinctions of your fellow-creatures,-you can not help it; but you may envy those distinctions, or you may emulate them. The dread of shame may enervate you for every manly exertion, or be the vigilant guardian of purity and innocence. In a strong mind, fear grows up into cautious sagacity; grief, into amiable tenderness. Without the noble toil of moral education, the one is abject cowardice, the other eternal gloom; therefore, there is the good, and there is the evil! Every man's destiny is in his own hands. Nature has given us those beginnings, which are the elements of the foulest vices, and the seeds of every sweet

and immortal virtue: but though Nature has given you the liberty to choose, she has terrified you by her punishments, and lured you by her rewards, to choose aright; for she has not only taken care that envy, and cowardice, and melancholy, and revenge, shall carry with them their own curse, but she has rewarded emulation, courage, patience, cheerfulness, and dignity, with that feeling of calm pleasure, which makes it the highest act of human wisdom to labor for their attainment.

LECTURE XXII.

ON THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.

OF THE AGREEABLE AND BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS, AND THEIR ORIGIN.OF THE NATURAL SIGNS OF THE PASSIONS.--OF THE AFFINITY BETWEEN THE PASSIONS. OF THE EFFECT OF CONTRARY PASSIONS ON EACH

OTHER.

IN In my last Lecture, I treated on such of the active powers as had the evil of others for their object; or were characterized by the pain which they inflicted on him, in whose mind they were observed. I come now to an opposite set of agents,-those which have the good of others for their object, or are characterized by the pleasure which they impart to that person, in whom they are observable. I am aware this division of the principles of our nature, which lead us to action, is not perfectly accurate; but it is accurate enough for that very general view which I propose to take of them, and which I believe is all that could be tolerated in a Lecture of this nature.

The origin of these benevolent affections, I should explain exactly after the same manner as their opposite, the malevolent feelings: the one proceed from pain, guided by association; the other, from pleasure, guided by association. To trace them up to this orgin, would be merely to repeat my last Lecture over again, with the alteration of a single word-pleasure for pain; and therefore I shall pass it over, presuming that Î have sufficiently explained myself on that subject.

The pleasing and benevolent affections of our nature, may be divided into the memory of past good; the enjoyment of present good; the anticipation of future good; and benevolence, or a desire to do good to others.

The memory of past good, and the memory of past evil, are both without a specific name in our language; though it should seem, that they require one, as much as hope or fear,-to which, in point of time, they are contrasted. We all know that present happiness is very materially affected by happiness in prospect: but, perhaps, it is not enough urged as a motive for benevolence.

Mankind are always happier for having been happy; so that if you make them happy now, you make them happy twenty years hence by the memory of it. A childhood passed with a due mixture of rational indulgence, under fond and wise parents, diffuses over the whole of life, a feeling of calm pleasure; and, in extreme old age, is the very last remembrance which time can erase from the mind of man. No enjoyment, however inconsiderable, is confined to the present moment. A man is the happier for life, from having made once an agreeable tour, or lived for any length of time with pleasant people, or enjoyed any considerable interval of innocent pleasure: and it is most probably the recollection of their past pleasures, which contributes to render old men so inattentive to the scenes before them; and carries them back to a world that is past, and to scenes never to be renewed again.

The recollection of pleasures that are past, is tinged with a certain degree of melancholy,-as every survey we take of distant periods of time always is. This gives it its peculiar characteristic, and distinguishes it from the animated sensations of present enjoyment: but still, such recollections is always one of the favorite occupations of the human mind; and, to many dispositions, the most fruitful source of happiness.

In the passion of fear there is always a mixed expectation of good and evil; but the evil preponderates. When all expectation of good ceases, the feeling which takes place is that of despair. In hope, the expectation of good preponderates. But there is no name for that feeling, when all expectation of evil ceases, and the good appears certain;-this is the opposite of despair. Upon this tendency to look forward to future happiness, or