flection as from a legion of devils. Oh! virtue thou art not an empty name! All that life can give—thou giveſt!
If much comfort cannot be expected from the friendſhip of a reformed rake of ſuperiour abilities, what is the conſequence when he lacketh ſenſe, as well as principles? Verily miſery, in its moſt hideous ſhape. When the habits of weak people are conſolidated by time, a reformation is barely poſſible; and actually makes the beings miſerable who have not ſufficient mind to be amuſed by innocent pleaſure; like the tradeſman who retires from the hurry of buſineſs, nature preſents to them only a univerſal blank; and the reſtleſs thoughts prey on the damped ſpirits[1]. Their reformation, as well as his retirement, actually makes them wretched becauſe it deprives them of all employment, by quenching the hopes and fears that ſet in motion their ſluggiſh minds.
If ſuch is the force of habit; if ſuch is the bondage of folly, how carefully ought we to guard the mind from ſtoring up vicious aſſociations; and equally careful ſhould we be to cultivate the underſtanding, to ſave the poor wight from the weak dependent ſtate of even harmleſs ignorance. For it is the right uſe of reaſon alone which makes us independent of every thing—excepting the unclouded Reaſon—'whoſe ſervice is perfect freedom.'
- ↑ I have frequently ſeen this exemplified in women, whole beauty could no longer be repaired. They have retired from the noiſy ſcenes of diſſipation; but, unleſs they became methodiſts, the ſolitude of the ſelect ſociety of their family connexions or acquaintance, has preſented only a fearful void; conſequently, nervous complaints, and all the vapouriſh train of idleneſſ, rendered them quite as uſeleſs, and far mere unhappy, than when they joined the giddy throng.
