confessed that he needed some stronger excitement than he had ever received, to rouse him from his lethargy. And what is the natural consequence of such a conviction of the judgment, combined with such a failure in the practice? Each morning, instead of being commenced with sentiments of gratitude to that kind and paternal Being who has added another day to his former mercies, is accompanied with a bitter reflection on his again becoming the slave of a habit which he detests, but is unwilling to relinquish. An effeminacy is spread over the mind, altogether inconsistent with the manly strength and vigour which the daily concerns of business require. A dissatisfaction with self is produced, which sours the temper, and is opposed to all that is amiable and pleasing. Every object that presents itself is veiled in gloom, invested with a peculiarly melancholy hue, and deprived of the power of bestowing that pleasure which, under other circumstances, it would not fail to afford. The mutual endearments of the social circle are suspended; and the brows of the more

aged are often knit into a frown at the artless cheerfulness of the young, arising from envy of that happiness, a near resemblance to which might have been enjoyed by themselves. It cannot be expected that the day thus commenced should be spent with satisfaction, or finished with self-approbation.

Before I conclude, my dear friend, I would also remind you of another beneficial effect of early rising. The day appears to have considerably advanced, when the night is just closing upon others; and on looking back during its later hours, it seems to have comprised even a longer space than it really has. The time that has been thus gained well deserves this appellation. It has been snatched from sleep, which did not indeed require it, but is so covetous a creature that it will take all that it can get. As we review with self-complacency the morning hours, the effect is something similar to that produced by a vista. The objects at the further extremity appear to be at a much greater distance than they actually are: whilst on each retrospective glance, we derive new

satisfaction from the delusive idea of our having passed over more ground, and advanced much farther, than we really have. If this description should not now be very intelligible to you, I hope an experimental acquaintance with the sensations described will in a few days render its meaning perfectly clear.

Yours sincerely.

MY DEAR SIR,

LETTER IV.

To the same.

IT has often been a subject of regret to you, that the attention which your mercantile engagements require, and the large proportion of your time which they occupy, in a great measure preclude you from the enjoyment of those literary pursuits which are so congenial to your taste, and an attachment to which is the natural result of your excellent education. Indeed, I have not unfrequently heard you express a wish, and that with a degree of earnestness which seemed likely to end in a determination, to give up your present lucrative connexions, and to devote the remainder of your life to an uninterrupted participation in your favourite amusements. But, however much I may feel inclined to concur with you in admiring the objects of your taste, and however anxious I may be for you to possess the

power of indulging it to a greater extent;

yet I can never advise my friend to suffer a propensity, though innocent in itself, and intellectual in its nature, to induce him to forget the duties which he owes to a numerous family, and to be regardless of the folly that would mark his conduct, if he were to throw away his present opportunities of usefulness, and materially diminish an influence that has hitherto been beneficially employed, merely to enjoy the gratifications which the mental powers may seem to require. An ancient writer has told us, that a man of business may talk of philosophy, and a man of leisure practise it." But I should be sorry if its discussion were confined to the former class, or its influence exclusively felt by the latter. Since the pristine curse has been extended from generation to generation, and the food of man has been obtained by the sweat of his brow, manual labour has become the lot of a large proportion of the human race; and the varied occupations of commercial or professional engagements serve only as milder inflictions of the sentence. Nor can I help reminding