which led to eminence, that like a quickſand ſinks as he aſcends, diſappointing his hopes when almoſt within his graſp, would he not leave to others the honour of amuſing them, and labour to ſecure the preſent moment, though from the conſtitution of his nature he would not find it very eaſy to catch the flying ſtream? Such ſlaves are we to hope and fear!
But, vain as the ambitious man's purſuits would be, he is often ſtriving for ſomething more ſubſtantial than fame—that indeed would be the verieſt meteor, the wildeſt fire that could lure a man to ruin.—What! renounce the moſt trifling gratification to be applauded when he ſhould be no more! Wherefore this ſtruggle, whether man is mortal or immortal, if that noble paſſion did not really raiſe the being above his fellows?—
And love! What diverting ſcenes would it produce—Pantaloon's tricks muſt yield to more egregious folly. To ſee a mortal adorn an object with imaginary charms, and then fall down and worſhip the idol which he had himſelf ſet up—how ridiculous! But what ſerious conſequences enſue to rob man of that portion of happineſs, which the Deity by calling him into exiſtence has (or, on what can his attributes reſt?) indubitably promiſed: would not all the purpoſes of life have been much better fulfilled if he had only felt what has been termed phyſical love? And, would not the ſight of the object, not ſeen through the medium of the imagination, ſoon reduce the paſſion to an appetite, if reflection, the noble diſtinction of man, did not give it force, and make it an inſtrument to raiſe him above this
