makes no difference; as it is not what either possesses that constitutes the pleasure, but what one possesses more than the other.

Philosophy smiles at the contempt with which the rich and great speak of the petty strifes and competitions of the poor; not reflecting that these strifes and competitions are just as reasonable as their own, and the pleasure, which success affords, the same.

Our position is, that happiness does not consist in greatness. And this position we make out by fhewing, that even what are supposed to be the peculiar advantages of greatness, the pleasures of ambition and superiority, are in reality common to all conditions. But whether the pursuits of ambition be ever wise, whether they contribute more to the happiness or misery of the pursuers, is a different question; and | a question concerning which we may be allowed to entertain great doubt. The pleasure of success is exquisite; so also is the anxiety of the pursuit, and the pain of disappointment-and what is the worst part of the account, the pleasure is short lived. We soon cease to lock back upon those whom we have left behind; new contests are engaged in, new prospects unfold themselves; a succession of struggles is kept up, whilst there is a rival left within the compass of our views and profession; and when there is none, the pleasure with the pursuit is at an end.

II. We have seen what happiness does not consist in. We are next to consider in what it does consist.

In the conduct of life, the great matter is, to know beforehand, what will please us, and what pleasures will hold out. So far as we know this, our choice will be justified by the event. And this knowledge is more scarce and difficult than at first sight it may seem to be: for sometimes, pleasures which are wonderfully alluring and flattering in the prospect, turn out in the possession, extremely insipid; or do not hold as we expected; at other times pleasures start up, which never entered into our calculation;

and which we might have missed of by not foreseeing from whence we have reason to believe, that we actually do miss of many pleasures from the same cause. I say to know "beforehand," for after the experiment is tried, it is commonly im practicable to retreat or change; beside that shifting and changing is apt to generate a habit of restlessness, which is destructive of the happiness of every condi

tion.

By reason of the original diversity of taste, capacity, and constitution, observable in the human species, and the still greater variety, which habit and fashion have introduced in these particulars, it is impossible to propose any plan of happiness, which will succeed to all, or any method of life which is universally eligible or practicable.

All that can be said is, that there remains a presumption in favour of those conditions of life in which men generally appear most cheerful and contented. For though the apparent happiness of mankind be not always a true measure of their real happiness, it is the best measure we have.

Taking this for my guide, I am inclined to believe that happiness consists,

FIRST, In the exercise of the social affections.

Those persons commonly possess good spirits who have about them many objects of affection and endearment, as wife, children, kindred, friends. And to the want of these may be imputed the peevishness of monks, and of such as lead a monastic life.

Of the same nature with the indulgence of our domestic affections, and equally refreshing to the spirits, is the pleasure which results from acts of bounty and beneficence, exercised either in giving money, or in imparting to those who want it, the assistance of our skill and profession.

Another main article of human happiness is,

SECOND, The exercise of our faculties, either of body or mind, in the pursuit of some engaging end.

It seems to be true, that no plenitude of present gratifications, can make the possessor happy for a continuance, unless he have something in reserve-something to hope for, and look forward to. This I conclude to be the case, from comparing the alacrity and spirits of men, who are engaged in any pursuit which interests them, with the dejection and ennui of almost all, who are either born to so much that they want nothing more, or who have used up their satisfactions too soon, and drained the sources of them.

It is this intolerable vacuity of mind, which carries the rich and great to the horse-course and the gaming-table; and often engages them in contests and pursuits, of which the success bears no proportion to the solicitude and expense, with which it is sought. An election for a disputed borough shall cost the parties twenty or thirty thousand pounds a piece, to say nothing of the anxiety, humiliation, and fatigue of the canvass; when a seat in the House of Commons, of exactly the same value, may be had for a tenth part of the money, and with no trouble. I do not mention this to blame the rich and great, (perhaps they cannot do better) but in confirmation of what I have advanced.

Hope, which thus appears to be of so much importance to our happiness, is of two kinds, where there is something to be done towards attaining the object of our hope, and where there is nothing to be done, The first alone is of any value; the latter being apt to corrupt into impatience, having nothing in its power but to sit still and wait, which soon grows tiresome.

The doctrine delivered under this head may be readily admitted; but how to provide ourselves with a succession of pleasurable engagements, is the difficulty. This requires two things; judgment in the choice of ends adapted to our opportunities; and a command of imagination, so as to be able, when the judgment has made choice of an end, to transfer a

pleasure to the means; after which the end may be forgotten as soon as we will.

Hence those pleasures are most valuable, not which are most exquisite in the fruition, but which are most productive of engagement and activity in the pursuit.

A man who is in earnest in his endeavours after the happiness of a future state, has, in this respect, an advantage over all the world. For he has constantly before his eyes an object of supreme importance, productive of perpetual engagement and activity, and of which the pursuit (which can be said of no pursuit besides) lasts him to his life's end. Yet even he must have many ends, beside the far end : but then they will conduct to that, be subordinate, and in some way or other capable of being referred to that, and derive their satisfaction, or an addition of satisfaction, from that.

Engagement is every thing. The more significant, however, our engagements are, the better; such as the planning of laws, institutions, manufactures, charities, improvements, public works; and the endeav ouring, by our interest, address, solicitations, and activity, to carry them into effect or upon a smaller scale, the procuring of a maintenance and fortune for our families by a course of industry and application to our callings, which forms and gives motion to the common occupations of life; training up a child; prosecuting a scheme for his future establishment ; making ourselves masters of a language or a science; improving or managing an estate; labouring after a piece of preferment and lastly, any engagement, which is innocent, is better than none: as the writing of a book, the building of a house, the laying out of a garden, the digging of a fish-pond-even the raising of a cucumber or a tulip.

Whilst the mind is taken up with the objects of business before us, we are commonly happy, whatever the object or business be: when the mind is absent, and the thoughts are wandering to something else

than what is passing in the place in which we are, we are often miserable.

THIRD, Happiness depends upon the prudent constitution of the habits.

The art in which the secret of human happiness in a great measure consists, is to set the habits in such a manner, that every change may be a change for the better. The habits themselves are much the same; for whatever is made habitual, becomes smooth, and easy, and nearly indifferent. The return to an old habit is likewise easy, whatever the habit be. Therefore the advantage is with those habits which allow of indulgence in the deviation from them. The luxurious receive no greater pleasure, from their dainties, than the peasant does from his bread and cheese: but the peasant, whenever he goes abroad, finds a feast; whereas the epicure must be well entertained to escape disgust. Those who spend every day at cards, and those who go every day to plough, pass their time much alike; intent upon what they are about, wanting nothing, regretting nothing, they are both for the time in a state of ease but then, whatever suspends the occupation of the card-player, distresses him; whereas to the labourer, every interruption is a refreshment: and this appears in the different effect that Sunday produces upon the two, which proves a day of recreation to the one, but a lamentable burthen to the 'other. The man who has learned to live alone, feels his spirits enlivened whenever he enters into company, and takes his leave without regret; another, who has long been accustomed to a crowd, or continual succession of company, experiences in company no elevation of spirits, nor any greater satisfaction, than what the man of retired life finds in his chimney corner. So far their conditions are equal'; but let a change of place, fortune, or situation, separate the companion from his circle, his visitors, his club, common room, or coffee-house, and the differ