the happiness of being drunk. The next attempt after happiness carried him into the field; for two or three years nothing was so happy as hunting, he entered upon it with all his soul, and leaped more hedges and ditches than had ever been known in so short a time. You never saw him but in a green coat, he was the envy of all that blow the horn, and always spoke to his dogs in great propriety of language. If you met him at home in a bad day, you would hear him blow his horn, and be entertained with the surprising accidents of the last noble chase. No sooner had Flatus outdone all the world in the breed and education of his dogs, built new kennels new stables, and bought a new hunting seat, but he immediately got sight of another happiness, hated the senseless noise and hurry of hunting, gave away the dogs, and was for some time after deep in the pleasures of building. Now he invents new kinds of dove-cotes, and has such contrivances in his barns and stables as were never seen before. He wonders at the dulness of the old builders, is wholly bent upon the improvement of architecture, and will hardly hang a door in the ordinary way. He tells his friends that he never was so delighted in anything in his life, that he has more happiness amongst his brick and mortar than ever he had at court, and that he is contriving how to have some little matter to do that way as long as he lives. The next year he leaves his house unfinished, complains to everybody of masons and carpenters, and devotes himself wholly to the happiness of riding about. After this you can never see him but on horseback, and so highly delighted with this new way of life that he would tell you, Give him but his horse and a clean country to ride in, and you might take all the rest to yourself. A variety of new saddles and bridles, and a great change of horses, added much to the pleasure of this new way of life. But, however, having after some time tired both himself and his horses, the happiest thing he could think of next was to go abroad and visit foreign countries; and there, indeed, happiness exceeded his imagination, and he was only uneasy that he had begun so fine a life no sooner. The next month he returned home, unable to bear any longer the impertinence of foreigners. After this he was a great student for one whole year, he was up early and late at his Italian grammar that he might have the happiness of understanding the opera whenever he should hear one, and not be like those unreasonable people that are pleased with they know not what. Flatus is very ill-natured, or otherwise, just as his affairs happen to be when you visit him; if you find him when some project is almost worn out you will find a peevish ill-bred man, but if you had seen him just as he entered upon his riding regimen, or begun to excel in sounding of the horn, you had been saluted with great civility. Flatus is now at a full stand, and is doing what he never did in his life before, he is reasoning and reflecting with himself. He loses several days in considering which of his cast-off ways of life he should try again. But here a new project comes in to his relief. He is now living upon herbs, and running about the country to get himself into as good wind as any running-footman in the kingdom. I have been thus circumstantial in so many foolish particulars of this kind of life, because I hope that every particular folly that you here see will naturally turn itself into an argument for the wisdom and happiness of a religious life. If I could lay before you a particular account of all the circumstances of terror and distress that daily attend a life at sea, the more particular I was in the account, the more I should make you feel and rejoice in the happiness of living upon the land. In like manner, the more I enumerate the follies, anxieties, delusions, and restless desires which go through every part of a life devoted to human passions and worldly enjoyments, the more you must be affected with that peace and rest and solid content which religion gives to the souls of men. If you but just cast your eye upon a madman or a fool, it perhaps signifies little or nothing to you, but if you was to attend them for some days, and observe the lamentable madness and stupidity of all their actions, this would be an affecting sight, and would make you often bless yourself for the enjoyment of your reason and senses. Just So, if you are only told in the gross of the folly and madness of a life devoted to the world it makes little or no impression upon you, but if you are shewn how such people live every day, if you see the continual folly and madness of all their particular actions and designs, this would be an affecting sight, and make you bless God for having given you a greater happiness to aspire after. So that characters of this kind, the more folly and ridicule they have in them, provided that they be but natural, are most useful to correct our minds, and therefore are nowhere more proper than in books of devotion and practical piety. And, as in several cases we best learn the nature of things by looking at that which is contrary to them, so, perhaps, we best apprehend the excellency of wisdom by contemplating the wild extravagances of folly. I shall, therefore, continue this method a little further, and endeavour to recommend the happiness of piety to you by shewing you in some other instances how miserably and poorly they live who live without it. But you will perhaps say that the ridiculous, restless life of Flatus is not the common state of those who resign themselves up to live by their own humours, and neglect the strict rules of religion; and that, therefore, it is not so great an argument of the happiness of a religious life as I would make it. I answer that I am afraid it is one of the most general characters in life, and that few people can read it without seeing something in it that belongs to themselves. For where shall we find that wise and happy man who has not been eagerly pursuing different appearances of happiness, sometimes thinking it was here, and sometimes there? And if people were to divide their lives into particular stages, and ask themselves what they were pursuing, or what it was which they had chiefly in view, when they were twenty years old, what at twenty-five, what at thirty, what at forty, what at fifty, and so on, till they were brought to their last bed; numbers of people would find that they had liked and disliked, and pursued as many different appearances of happiness, as are to be seen in the life of Flatus. And thus it must necessarily be more or less with all those who propose any other happiness than that which arises from a strict and regular piety. But secondly, let it be granted that the generality of people are not of such restless fickle tempers as Flatus; the difference then is only this, Flatus is continually changing and trying something new, but others are content with some one state: they do not leave gaming and then fall to hunting; but they have so much steadiness in their tempers that some seek after no other happiness but that of heaping up riches; others grow old in the sports of the field, others are content to drink themselves to death, without the least inquiry after any other happiness. Now, is there anything more happy or reasonable in such a life as this than in the life of Flatus? Is it not as great and desirable, as wise and happy, to be constantly changing from one thing to another as to be nothing else but a gatherer of money, a hunter, a gamester, or a drunkard, all your life? Shall religion be looked upon as a burden, as a dull and melancholy state, for calling men from such happiness as this, to live according to the laws of God, to labour after the perfection of their nature, and prepare themselves for an endless state of joy and glory in the presence of God? (p. 189). Β' FELICIANA UT turn your eyes now another way, and let the trifling joys, HER GEWGAW the gew-gaw happiness of Feliciana teach you how wise they are, what delusion they escape, whose hearts and hopes are fixed upon an happiness in God. HAPPINESS If you was to live with Feliciana but one half year, you would see all the happiness that she is to have as long as she lives. She has no more to come, but the poor repetition of that which could never have pleased once, but through a littleness of mind and want of thought. She is to be again dressed fine, and keep her visiting day. She is again to change the colour of her clothes, again to have a new head, and again put patches on her face. She is again to see who acts best at the playhouse, and who sings finest at the opera. She is again to make ten visits in a day, and be ten times in a day trying to talk artfully, easily, and politely about nothing. She is to be again delighted with some new fashion, and again angry at the change of some old one. She is to be again at cards and gaming at midnight, and again in bed at She is to be again pleased with hypocritical compliments, and again disturbed at imaginary affronts. She is to be again pleased with her good luck at gaming, and again tormented with the loss of her money. She is again to prepare herself for a birthnight, and again see the town full of good company. She is again to hear the cabals and intrigues of the town, again to have secret intelligence of private amours, and early notice of marriages quarrels, and partings. If you see her come out of her chariot more briskly than usual, converse with more spirit, and seem fuller of joy than she was last week, it is because there is some surprising new dress or new diversion just come to town. noon. These are all the substantial and regular parts of Feliciana's happiness; and she never knew a pleasant day in her life but it was owing to some one or more of these things. It is for this happiness that she has always been deaf to the reasonings of religion, that her heart has been too gay and cheerful to consider what is right or wrong in regard to eternity, or to listen to the sound of such dull words as wisdom, piety, and devotion. It is for fear of losing some of this happiness that she dares not meditate on the immortality of her soul, consider her relation to |