same.

would find him, if pleased at all, taking pleasure in some of those simple enjoyments which they can command as well as he. They would find him amongst his children, in his husbandry, in his garden, pursuing some rural diversion, or occupied with some trifling exercise, which are all gratifications, as much within the power and reach of the poor man as of the rich; or rather more so.

from his usual course of moderation and tem- | grandeur of their houses, dress, equipage, and perance a quickness of perception and delight attendance, they only envy the rich these which the unrestrained voluptuary knows no- things because they do not know the rich. thing of. Habits of all kinds are much the They have not opportunities of observing with Whatever is habitual, becomes smooth what neglect and insensibility the rich posand indifferent, and nothing more. The lux sess and regard these things themselves. If urious receive no greater pleasures from their they could see the great man in his retiredainties, than the peasant does from his home-ment, and in his actual manner of life, they ly fare. But here is the difference: The peasant whenever he goes abroad, finds a feast, whereas the epicure must be sumptuously entertained to escape disgust. They who spend every day in diversions, and they who go every day about their usual business, pass their time much alike. Attending to what they are about, wanting nothing, regretting nothing, they are both, whilst engaged, in a state of ease; but then, whatever suspends the pur- To learn the art of contentment, is only to suits of the man of diversion, distresses him, learn what happiness actually consists in. Senwhereas to the labourer, or the man of busi-sual pleasures add little to its substance. Ease, ness, every pause is a recreation. And this is a vast advantage which they possess who are trained and inured to a life of occupation, above the man who sets up for a life of pleasure. Variety is soon exhausted. Novelty itself is no longer new. Amusements are become too familiar to delight, and he is in a situation in which he can never change but for the worse.

if by that be meant exemption from labour, contributes nothing. One, however, constant spring of satisfaction, and almost infallible support of cheerfulness and spirits, is the exercise of domestic affections; the presence of objects of tenderness and endearment in our families, our kindred, our friends. Now, have the poor any thing to complain of here? Are they not surrounded by their relatives as ge nerally as others? The poor man has his wife and children about him; and what has the rich more? He has the same enjoyment of their society, the same solicitude for their welfare, the same pleasure in their good quali ties, improvement, and success: their connexion with him is as strict and intimate, their attachment as strong, their gratitude as warm. I have no propensity to envy any one, least of all the rich and great; but if I were disposed to this weakness, the subject of my envy would be, a healthy young man, in full possession of his strength and faculties, going forth in a morning to work for his wife and children, or bringing them home his wages at night.

Another article which the poor are apt to envy in the rich, is their ease. Now here they mistake the matter totally. They call inaction ease, whereas nothing is farther from it. Rest is ease. That is true; but no man can rest who has not worked. Rest is the cessation of labour. It cannot therefore be enjoyed, or even tasted, except by those who have known fatigue. The rich see, and not without envy, the refreshment and pleasure which rest affords to the poor, and choose to wonder that they cannot find the same enjoyment in being free from the necessity of working at all. They do not observe that this enjoyment must be purchased by previous labour, and that he who will not pay the price cannot have the gratification. Being without But was difference of rank or fortune of work is one thing; reposing from work is more importance to personal happiness than it another. The one is as tiresome and insipid is, it would be ill purchased by any sudden or as the other is sweet and soothing. The one, violent change of condition. An alteration of in general, is the fate of the rich man, the circumstances, which breaks up a man's haother is the fortune of the poor. I have heard bits of life, deprives him of his occupation, reit said, that if the face of happiness can any moves him from his acquaintance, may be calwhere be seen, it is in the summer evening of led an elevation of fortune, but hardly ever a country village; where, after the labours of brings with it an addition of enjoyment. They the day, each man at his door, with his child- to whom accidents of this sort have happened, ren, amongst his neighbours, feels his frame never found them to answer their expectations. and his heart at rest, every thing about him After the first hurry of the change is over pleased and pleasing, and a delight and com- they are surprised to feel in themselves listplacency in his sensations far beyond what ei-lessness and dejection, a consciousness of sother luxury or diversion can afford. The litude, vacancy, and restraint, in the place of rich want this; and they want what they must cheerfulness, liberty, and ease. They try to never have.

As to some other things which the poor are disposed to envy in the condition of the rich, such as their state, their appearance, the

make up for what they have lost, sometimes by a beastly sottishness, sometimes by a foolish dissipation, sometimes by a stupid sloth; all which effects are only so many confessions.

that changes of this sort were not made for tion, I have not thought it necessary to introman. If any public disturbance should pro- duce religion into the inquiry at all; because duce, not an equality (for that is not the pro- I contend, that the man who murmurs and reper name to give it,) but a jumble of ranks and pines, when he has nothing to murmur and reprofessions amongst us, it is not only evident pine about, but the mere want of independent what the rich would lose, but there is also this property, is not only irreligious, but unreasonfurther misfortune, that what the rich lost the able, in his complaint; and that he would find, poor would not gain. I (God knows) could not did he know the truth, and consider his case get my livelihood by labour, nor would the la- fairly, that a life of labour, such, I mean, as is bourer find any solace or enjoyment in my led by the labouring part of mankind in this studies. If we were to exchange conditions country, has advantages in it which compento-morrow, all the effect would be, that we sate all its inconveniences. When compared both should be more miserable, and the work with the life of the rich, it is better in these of both be worse done. Without debating, important respects: It supplies employment, therefore, what might be very difficult to de- it promotes activity. It keeps the body in betcide, which of our two conditions was better ter health, the mind more engaged, and, of to begin with, one point is certain, that it is course, more quiet. It is more sensible of ease, best for each to remain in his own. The change, more susceptible of pleasure. It is attended and the only change, to be desired, is that with greater alacrity of spirits, a more congradual and progressive improvement of our stant cheerfulness and serenity of temper. It circumstances which is the natural fruit of affords easier and more certain methods of successful industry; when each year is some- sending children into the world in situations thing better than the last; when we are ena- suited to their habits and expectations. It is bled to add to our little household one article free from many heavy anxieties which rich after another of new comfort or conveniency, men feel; it is fraught with many sources of as our profits increase, or our burden becomes delight which they want. less; and, what is best of all, when we can af- If to these reasons for contentment, the reford, as our strength declines, to relax our la-flecting husbandman or artificer adds another bours, or divide our cares. This may be look-very material one, that changes of condition, ed forward to, and is practicable, by great num- which are attended with a breaking up and sabers in a state of public order and quiet; it is crifice of our ancient course and habit of living, absolutely impossible in any other. never can be productive of happiness, he will

If, in comparing the different conditions of perceive, I trust, that to covet the stations or social life, we bring religion into the account, fortunes of the rich, or so, however, to covet the argument is still easier. Religion smooths them, as to wish to seize them by force, or all inequalities, because it unfolds a prospect through the medium of public uproar and conwhich makes all earthly distinctions nothing. fusion, is not only wickedness, but folly, as And I do allow that there are many cases of mistaken in the end as in the means, that is not sickness, affliction, and distress, which Chris-only to venture out to sea in a storm, but to ventianity alone can comfort. But in estimating ture for nothing.

the mere diversitier of station and civil condi

SERMONS ON PUBLIC OCCASIONS.

SERMONS ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS

CAUTION RECOMMENDED IN THE USE AND APPLICATION OF

SCRIPTURAL LANGUAGE:

A SERMON,

PREACHED, JULY 17, 1777,

IN THE CATHEDRAL CHURCH OF CARLISLE,

AT

THE VISITATION

OF THE

RIGHT REVEREND LORD BISHOP OF CARLISLE.

ΤΟ

THE RIGHT REVEREND

EDMUND,

LORD BISHOP OF CARLISLE,

THIS DISCOURSE

IS INSCRIBED,

WITH SENTIMENTS OF GREAT RESPECT AND GRATITUDE.

BY HIS LORDSHIP'S MOST DUTIFUL,

AND MOST OBLIGED SERVANT AND CHAPLAIN,

W. PALEY.