IMPRIMATUR Liber, qui inscribitur Occasional Reflections, etc. quem Censeo reliquis ab eodem Cl. Autore Scriptis (neque enim quicquam ●ajus de eo dicere possum, nec minus ●ebeo) nequaquam cedere.  
●…dib. Lambetha●…s. Feb. ●. 1664 Tho. Cook, Reverend. in Christo Patri ac Dom. Dom. Gilberto Cant. Archiepisc. Sacellanus Domesticus.   

OCCASIONAL Reflections UPON SEVERAL SUBJECTS. Whereto is premised A Discourse About such kind of Thoughts.  
Omnibus Rebus, omnibusque Sermonibus, aliquid Salutare miscendum est. Cum imus per occulta Naturae, cum divina tractamus, vindicandus est à malis suis animus, ac subinde firmandus.  Sen. Natural. Quaest. Lib. 2. cap. 5 9 
LONDON, Printed by W. Wilson for Henry Herringman, and are to be sold at his Shop at the Anchor in the Lower-walk in the New Exchange. Anno Dom. MDCLXV.   

TO 
* 'Tis the name given to the same Lady, in the II. Section of the following Meditations.  SOPHRONIA.  
My Dearest Sister,  
YOu receive in this Effect of my Obedience, one of the highest Proofs I can give You of its Greatness. For when You Command but things that tend to Your Service, the Performance is wont to be accompanied with a Satisfaction, that suffers me not to find it uneasy. But I confess it was not without Reluctancy, that I was prevailed with to venture abroad Composures, wherein, even when I publish Them, I decline Owning them, and which, (if our Names be discovered) may I fear, not only hazard the Reputation (if it have any) of my Pen; but, (where You are less known) bring into Question that of Your Judgement. 'Twas easy for me to represent to You how unfinished and unpolished the Trifles you called for, were, especially considering that the Immatureness of some of them would not probably be the Chief thing that would make many think they come forth Unseasonably, since they avowedly Aim at the Persuading and Teaching men to Improve their Thoughts, as well as Husband their Time, at a season, when both those Precious Things are so Neglected, or so Misemployed, that the chief use, which too many make of the Former, is to devise ways to get rid of the Later. But though to my Vnreadiness to Publish these very long neglected Papers, at the same time when a Prae-engagement obliged me to Dispatch another Treatise of a quite different Nature, I added all those other dissuading Considerations that I have mentioned in the Preface to the Reader; yet what I represented proved as Vnavailable, as what I had written was Incomplete. For, whilst You fancied that the following Reflections (such as they are) had Fewer Faults, and were like to do More Good, than I can presume; Your Charity for others, and Partiality for me, made you so resolute and pressing to have me run a Venture, which you are pleased to think but a very Small One; that I judged it more excusable to present you Green Fruit, than, by obstinately Refusing what you seemed almost to Long for, lose an opportunity of Evincing, That Your Commands can Prevail, both where those of Others would have been wholly Ineffectual, and when they required me to present You (some, if not many,) things that are so little worthy of You, that perhaps they are scarcely so, even of me.  
Wonder not, Dear Sophronia, that I appear so Solicitous to manifest the Greatness of my Obedience; since That implies an urgency in your Commands, that it highly concerns me to have taken notice of. For those that, having the Happiness to converse with You, shall chance to cast their Eyes upon the following Papers, will probably think that I show as little Discretion in the Address, as I have shown Skill in the writing, of these Reflections; when I expose such Censurable Things to the Judgement of a Person that has so piercing a One, and present Trifles to one, that deserves the Noblest Productions of (what she is so great a Mistress of) Wit, and Eloquence. Upon whose Account she is wont to persuade Piety as Handsomely in her Discourses, as she expresses it Exemplarily in her Actions; and might, if her Modesty did less confine her Pen to Excellent Letters, both make the Wits of our Sex envy a Writer of Hers; and keep Our Age from envying Antiquity, for those Celebrated Ladies, who, by their Triumphant Eloquence, Ennobled the People of Rome, and taught their Children to Sway those Rulers of the World.  
But when I can plead, that not only Your Commands, but even Your Importunity engaged me (though not to the Address, yet) to the Publication of these Papers; I may reasonably hope, that among those many considerable Persons to whom Your Attainments are not unknown, not only my Dedication will be Excused, but even my Book will not be so hastily Condemned.  
But I dare not prosecute so Fruitful a Subject, for fear of offending Your Modesty; since that predominant Virtue gives You so great an Vndervaluation for all Your other Qualities, that it is as much Your Custom to look even upon Small Praises as Flatteries, as it is Your Prerogative to keep Great ones from being so. And I should therefore have omitted that little itself which I have said, if, on This occasion, my Interest did not as well Oblige me, as the known Truth Warrant me, so to Consider Your Modesty, as not to be altogether Injurious to Your other Excellencies; since the Reader's knowledge of These (if he be not a stranger to You) will promise me this Advantage, that divers of the Critics themselves will choose rather to Absolve my Writings, than Condemn Your Judgement: and that at least, the Devout, to whom Your Practice has afforded so many other Examples, will be scrupulous to be more Severe to these Papers, than a Person in whom, upon the score of her own Style, Severity were more justifiable than in most Readers (without excepting the Eloquent Ones) and will imitate Her, in Considering, that this Book pretends to present them Thoughts, rather than Words, and in Supporting, for the sake of the Design, the Manner in which it is prosecuted.  
And certainly, my Lady R's. Approbation, is a Happiness which divers sorts of Considerations may render as Advantageous as Welcome to me. For if any of these Thoughts, do (which yet I can scarce hope) derive it from Your Justice, that great measure of Esteem You do not only Merit, but Possess, may both Assure them of a General One, and much contribute to Procure it them. But if all of them owe your Approbation (as I fear they do) to your Partiality; since that must not be▪ Small to be able to pervert such a Judgement, This itself will prove an Evidence of the Blessing of Your Affection; which is a Felicity, that I know You enough to value above all the Praises I can miss of: since Applause can make me happy but in other men's Opinion, but Your Friendship can make me so in my own. Yet, apprehend not, Sister, That I should here endeavour, by a solemn Character of You, to justify what I have been saying: For, though to write a Dedicatory Epistle, without a Panegyric, be grown of late very Unfashionable; yet since 'tis as much so, to take the Praises wont to be profusely given in such Letters for Measures of any thing but the Writers Wit, I must rather reserve the Acknowledgements I owe Your Merit and Your Favours to some Occasion, where they may not be liable to pass for a Tribute paid to Custom, not a Debt due to You; than draw a needless Suspicion upon the Sincerity of our Friendship, by endeavouring to express my Affection and Esteem in a Dedicatory Letter; and by choosing to Profess, upon an Occasion where Custom allows men to Say what they do not Think, so Great and Real a Truth, as that of my being, far more upon the Account of Esteem and Gratitude, than of Nature itself,  
My Dearest Sister, Your most Affectionate, and most Faithful Servant. R. boil▪   

AN INTRODUCTORY PREFACE.  
WHen I consider the Disadvantages, with which the following Trifles come abroad, in an Age, that is not only so Censorious, but so Intelligent, as this of ours; neither the Partiality of my Friends, nor the favourable Reception that the public has hitherto vouchsafed to what hath been presented it, of mine, is able to give me a Confidence, (though they almost create a Hope) That these Papers will meet with as kind an Entertainment, as those of the samehand that have preceded them. And yet, without being wanting to myself, I cannot but add, that by the help of Their suggestions, who have urged the Publication of these Thoughts, I am not unfurnished with (at least) Tolerable Excuses for the things that seem likely to stand in need of any.  
I shall not much wonder to find it said, That the Book is, in general, far short of being an Exact and Finished Piece. For perhaps few Readers will be more of that mind, than the Author is. But by way of Apology, it may be represented, That most of the following Papers, being written for my own private Amusement, a good deal of Negligence in them may appear as pardonable, as a Careless Dress, when a man intends not, nor expects, to go out of his study, or let himself be seen. And that which I now publish being designed, not to satisfy the Critics, but to gratify the Devout, I hope it will be thought a Venial Crime, if in some of these Meditations I have not aimed to express Eloquence, but only to cherish Piety. I say, in some, because there may be others (where a different style was thought fitter) in whose Favour I would produce such Suffrages, as would not be slighted, if I were concerned to do any more for those Papers, than Excuse them.  
And perhaps they that shall take the pains to try their skill in making Meditations, Indifferently upon the Occurrences that shall happen, and wander no further from the Circumstances of their Themes, nor lard them any more with Sentences & other Passages borrowed from the Fathers, or the Poets, than in most of the following Papers, I have done: will not find the Task so easy, but that they will think it reasonable to be Mild in their Censures, and will discern, that in such Composures, some Unaccurateness is so hard to be Avoided, that it should not be hard to be Forgiven.  
I know the want of Uniformity in the style of the ensuing Reflections, may speciously enough be censured. For, not to mention that some of them are very long, and others very short; it will be said, that some are written in a very Neglected, and others even in a Luxuriant strain; & there may (perchance) appear betwixt some of them, as great an Inequality as can easily be found, betwixt Composures that are none of them Excellent. Besides, that the Incoherence of the Subjects, together with the differing Ways wherein they are handled, may make them look so little of kin to one another, as scarce to appear the Productions of the same Pen. But this Uneven way of writing will possibly be rather pardoned than wondered at, by those that shall be informed.  
That the nature of this kind of Composures requires not any other than a loose and Desultory way of writing.  
That these Reflections are very far from coming abroad in the Order of Time wherein they were set down: but in that Casual order, wherein, when I was engaged to tack them together, I was able to light on them among my loose and forgotten Papers. Many of which being discovered to have been lost when some of the rest were to be at the Press; I was fain, for the completing of the number, to insert here and there some of a much fresher date, among those that were made (as some know who then read them) sixteen or seventeen years ago; when my Style could hardly be other than differing enough from what it now is.  
And lastly, That the differing Natures of several Subjects required, that the Reflections on some of them should be far Longer than on others; and As my want of Leisure, and sometimes of Dispos'dness to write, induced me to make some of my Considerations but short: So I thought fit to let them pass for Their sakes, to whom, for want of Time or Skill, the Brevity of those, may make them the fitter, and the more recommend them.  
Besides, what has been alleged against the Style ' I know it may be objected, That in some of the Meditations, the Subjects are very Mean, and Trivial, and that such I hemes are not Worthy the being descanted on. And indeed, if I aimed at the Writer's advantage, more than the Reader's, I could easily have left them out, and have substituted in their places some others that lie by me, less liable to Contempt. But I confess, I did not think myself obliged, to publish no Meditations, but the least Censurable ones that I had made; and divers of those intimated in the objection, were purposely inserted, when I was prevailed with to bundle up these loose sticks into Faggots. For Then, designing this Treatise for the Benefit of the Generality of Devout Readers, I thought it not amiss, amongst divers Reflections (such as most of the IId and of the IVth Sections) more suited to those Perusers that are either of the more intelligent sort, or good Proficients already; to insert some few Meditations, of more familiar sort, & easier to be lighted on; to 〈…〉 from being discouraged, from trying to ma●● Occasional Reflections, who may chance to have either Barrenner Fancy's, or more unpractised Pens, than even I had then: And those (perhaps) who, without such easily imitable Examples would not be invited to make Occasional Meditations, may, by the Practice of composing them, grow such Proficients in the Art, as to surpass some that despise such humble Beginnings.  
But as I send abroad these Papers without the Author's name, that I may have the greater Opportunity to hear other men's Opinions of them, and the less Temptation to wave the complying with those that shall seem Reasonable: so if I shall find, That such Readers as I esteem competent Judges in an Affair of this Nature, shall think that those Reflections wherein I have complied with the weaker sort of Perusers, may be better Spared, than Inserted: I can silly repair that fault in the next Edition (if these Trifles shall be thought worthy of another). In the mean time, I presume that those devout Readers who may be concerned in this matter, will take it kindly that I have for their sakes adventured to treat of Subjects too mean and barren to furnish me with almost any thing considerable; save the Opportunity's of manifesting, how low I can stoop to gratify such Persons.  
I know it is a new thing, That I have ventured to put some Occasional Reflections into Dialogues. But the Reader will be less startled at my deviating in this, and other things, from Bishop Hall's way of writing Occasional Meditations, if I acknowledge that not to Prepossess or Bias my Fancy, I purposely (till of late) forbade myself, the perusing of that Eloquent Praelates devout Reflections. Which Intimation being premised, I shall subjoin, That when I wrote for my own Divertisement, I sometimes took Pleasure to imagine two or three of my Friends to be present with me at the Occasion, that set my thoughts on work, and to make them Discourse as I fancied Persons, of their Breeding and tempers, would talk to one another on such an Occasion. And one of these, whom I call Eusebius, being a Dr. of Divinity; two others (Eugenius and Genorio) being Travellers and fine Gentlemen; and the fourth, (whom I name Lindamor) being a Learned Youth, both well Born and well Bred; I was apt to think, that some of their Conferences, might be allowed to pass among the other Papers; both because Novelty, and Variety, are wont to be not unwelcome things, and because this way of writing allows a Scope for diversity of Opinions, for Debates, and for Replies, which mostcommonly would be Improper, where only a single speaker is introduced: Not to add, that possibly if this way of writing shall be Liked & Practised, by some Famed & happier Pen, that were able to Credit and improve it; it may afford useful Patterns of an Instructive and not unpleasant Conversation; and such Reflections, being of the nature of short and Occasional Essays, may afford men the opportunities, of saying the Handsomest things they know, on several Subjects, without saying any thing Else of them, or filling above a Sheet, or perhaps a Side of Paper at a Time. And the Liberty that this way of introducing Speakers, allows, brings with it a Conveniency, which 'tis more Easy for an Intelligent Reader to conjecture at, than 'twere Discreet for the Writer to mention expressly.  
Another Novelty will probably be taken notice of, in the following Papers, where the second and fourth Sections, though by far the longest in the whole Book, are entirely taken up, the Former only by Meditations on Accidents relating to an Ague that once afflicted me, and the Latter by those that occurred to some Anglers by the River side. But for this Matter, I presume, it will not be difficult to Apologise. For having observed Men to be inclinable, either openly to Object, or at least tacitly to Suspect, That in Occasional Meditations, that may hold true, which is (perchance not altogether undeservedly) said of Epigrams, That in most of them the Conceits were not Suggested by the Subjects, but Subjects were Pretended, to which the Conceits might be Accommodated; I thought, that to manifest, that (at least, some) Writers of this kind of Composures need not have recourse to the suspected Artifice; the fittest way I could take was, By putting together what the Accidents of my Ague, and of my Angling Journey, had suggested to me, to show, that 'tis very Possible for a person, that pretends not to a very pregnant Fancy, to Discourse by way of Reflection upon the several Circumstances that shall happen to occur to his Consideration, though one Subject should require above fifteen differing Meditations; and the other above twenty. Not to add, That 'twas rather Weariness and Design, then want of Thoughts upon other passages relating to the same Subjects, that kept me from increasing the Number of those Reflections.  
As for the Similitudes, though some would make me hope that they will be at least excused; and though it were perhaps no great Vanity, for one that does assiduously enough converse with the Works of Nature and the Productions of Art, to think he has the means of furnishing himself with pretty store and variety of Comparisons; yet for all this, I am not willing to quit my Pretensions to a share in the wont Effects of that common Equity which forbids to exact too accurate a likeness in the making of Comparisons, which Orators confess aught to be judged with Indulgence, and without exacting a Conformity in Other Attributes betwixt the things compared, provided there be a competent Likeness in reference to the Particular wherein the Collation or Parallel is made.  
And if I have, on some occasions, prosecuted the Resemblance through all the particularities wherein the Parallel could be made to hold, more fully and nicely than is usual in ordinary Comparisons; and if in so doing I may have at any time a little Strained the Similitude, the better to accommodate it to my present Theme, and Design; I have this to represent, That to Display Resemblances to the full, and Insist on their particular Circumstances, is oftentimes no more than the Nature of these Composures does allow, if not require; and that, on such occasions, to stretch the Parallel as far as it can well be made to reach, is but a venial fault, which many Readers are disposed not only to Pardon, but to Like. As if, in some Cases, it fared with Similitudes as with Bows, which though they may be bend so forcibly as to be thereby broken or spoiled; yet by being strained somewhat more than ordinarily, they acquire a greater strength, and enable the Arrow to Pierce farther, and to make a smarter Impression, than else it would.  
The Protasis (as Rhetoricians call the first part of a Comparison) may in some of the following Reflections appear to be too much amplified, and needlessly to lengthen the Meditation. But not to urge, that sometimes the more conspicuous Adjuncts of the Subject were so mean and barren, that there was a kind of necessity to Exaggerate, or to Exspatiate upon little Circumstances to invite Attention; The Protasis, wherein we display and consider the minute particularities of the Theme, being the Groundwork of all the rest, and it being far more easy to say Little, than Much, with equal pertinency upon a Subject; I thought it not amiss, to afford unpractised Readers, the most assistance of Examples in such Cases, wherein 'tis probable they will most need it; especially since he that has accustomed himself to write Copiously, may easily Contract his Discourse when he will, by Omitting as many passages as he pleases; and 'tis far more difficult for a Beginner to supply Barrenness, than retrench Superfluities. Which are not always such Faults, but that I remember some great Masters in the Art of Oratory, have pronounced Redundancy to be a good Sign in a Young Writer, as taking it for a mark of a fruitful and exuberant Fancy, that, in its Productions, there is something to be cut off. So that if there should be found any Luxuriant Expressions in some of those Thoughts that were written down, when I had not yet attained my 19th or 20th year, when I might be allowed to write not always to employ, but sometimes to amuse myself; I may hope, that the same Youth that was my Temptation to write them, may prove my excuse for having written them; as it may for leaving them Unexpunged; That as I desire to invite as well young Gentlemen as other Readers, to pen Occasional Meditations; So I find that some of the Readers I am willing to pleasure, do as little dislike that Luxuriant way of writing Now, as I did Then: as Youths and Ladies oftentimes better relish Must than Wine.  
I know too, that there may be found in some of those Protases, divers passages, and particularly some Descriptions (that often make a great part of them) which to some Readers will not seem Noble and Gaudy enough. But to such Perusers it may be represented, that a sutableness to the Theme, how mean soever it be, may very well, as a piece of Decorum, be allowed to a Writer, and in few Cases more than in point of Descriptions; and that These being but Pictures drawn (with Words instead of Colours) for the Imagination, the skilful will approve those most, that produce in the mind, not the Finest Ideas, but the Likest: as a Critic in Limning will more prise the Picture of an old meager Sibyl, where the Wrinkles, and the sallow skin are drawn exactly to the Life, than a dozen ordinary Pictures of the Spring, (which yet are wont to charm Vulgar eyes) though the Youthful face which represents that Florid season, have as Gaudy Colours upon the Cheeks and Lips, as embellish the Roses and Lilies, which compose the Chaplet that adorns the Head.  
And possibly there will be found other Readers (and those too, skilled in Rhetoric) that will accuse some other of our Meditations, as being too Elaborate, or too Pompous, for the Themes whereunto they are accommodated. But having laid by a competent number of those lately mentioned Reflections, wherein I aimed chiefly at inviting and assisting Readers of meaner Capacity: I confess, that in the Other Meditations, aiming either at my own Divertisement, or the gratifying Another sort of Persons, I allowed myself to make choice of such applications of the objects I considered, as I thought every body would not so easily light on. And, provided the Reflections were not strained, nor too far fetched, I thought it not amiss they should be somewhat surprising: that I might, by the way of Handling the Subjects I was to treat of, engage an Attention, which otherwise I could scarce expect for such unpromising Themes. I know that if the Judgement of some severe Critics, were as Infallible as themselves think it, the style of some of the following Reflections would seem disproportionate to such mean and trifling Subjects. I do not perhaps ignore what Rhetoricians are wont to teach of what they call, the three differing Characters of Writing; I have read those Discourses that Cornificius proposes as the Patterns of the Sublime, the moderate, and the humble way of expressing one's self on differing Occasions; and I have been taught, and willingly acknowledge, that all Themes are not so well capable of that Character which they call Sublime; and that according to the Nature and Dignity of the Subjects that one treats of, the Manner of handling them aught to be varied. But if I were much concerned in this matter, I might reply, that notwithstanding all this, I know, That even the Artists themselves do not so perfectly agree about the defining of these matters, and the grand Rule about these Characters being only, That the Laws of Decorum (or, as the French call it Bien-seance) be not violated, in the Estimate of that Decorum, I see no great Reason to confine myself to the Magisterial Dictates of either Ancient or Scholastic Writers. For, living in this Age, and in This part of the World, where we are not like to have those for Readers that died before we were born, I see not why one may not judge of Decorum by the Examples and Practices of those Authors of our own Times and Countries, whose Writings are generally esteemed by Judicious Men.  
And certainly, in the judging of what is Decent on particular Occasions, we must as well consider, Who it is that is introduced as the Speaker, as what it is he speaks of. And though it be Improper to do what those have done, that have unadvisedly made Shepherds and Nymphs discourse like Philosophers or Doctors of Divinity; yet when the Writer either speaks Himself, or introduces any whom he represents as intelligent Persons; they may be allowed, even about things Ordinary and Mean, to talk like themselves, and employ Expressions that are neither mean, nor ordinary. As Virgil, in his admired Georgics, 
It nigrum campis Agmen.  does in some passages, where he treats of contemptible Infects, speak of them in so noble & lofty a strain, That when he mentions Multitudes of Ants, one would think he were speaking of an Army of Moors: and when he gives an Account of Bees, his Expressions about their Common Wealth would scarce mis-becom the Majesty of that of Rome. Such passages do, notwithstanding the great disparity of Themes, make the Style of his Georgics, as well Noble (if not strictly Heroic) as that of his Aeneids; and when he writes of Ants and Flies, he does it in a Strain worthy of the same Pen, that so loftily describes the Destruction of Troy, and the Adventures of that Hero whom he would have to be (though not immediately) the Founder of Rome.  
I will not say, that since there is a Mode in Language as well as in clothes, I see not why the fashion, that now a-dayes allows our Gallants to wear fine Laces upon Canvas and Buckram, might not warrant the tricking up of slight subjects, with the richer Ornaments of Language: nor will I examine whether Men may not Except against the Authority of some Jejune Writers, that taking upon them to prescribe the Laws of Styles, make so many of their Precepts Negative, that one may suspect them indicted not so much by Skill, as Envy, which makes such assuming Lawgivers mistake the Impotence of a Barren Fancy for the Skilfulness of a Critical Judgement, and (Valuing only the Ideas they think they can Reach) Condemn whatever they despair to Imitate. And, from those that would be thought to censure the Moderns, but out of a Veneration for the Ancients, one might methinks reasonably expect but Light Censures for employing upon occasion, that noble Figure of Rhetoriok called Hyperbole; since I should be loath to use it Often, with no more Reserve than those great Orators Tully and Isocrates have Sometimes done before me. But a just debate of the Rules of Estimating Decency, would take up so much room as must make it improper for this place, where all I contend for, is, That though when one treats of Various Subjects, somewhat Differing Styles are indeed to be accommodated to them; yet this is to be so done as still to preserve a certain Dignity in Expressions: So that a Writer may be sometimes engaged by his Subject to use a Lofty Style, but without ever being obliged to employ an Abject one; though indeed in some cases he may be allowed to stoop below what he is bound to, and forbear Soaring, as well as avoid Creeping. Nor am I, for my own part much concerned to Insisthere on the Subject I just now declined to Debate. For if I mis-remember not, Cicero himself, as well as some succeeding Orators, allow in divers cases to Shift Characters, even in the same Discourse, according to the differing Particulars that happen to fall under consideration: and some of them add this reason, That hence there will arise variety, which is wont to be a welcome thing. And to apply this to the Occasional Reflections that may be concerned in this Debate, I must desire the Reader to take notice of these two things. The one, that though the Thing itself, which sets a man's thoughts awork may be but Mean in Other regards, yet that which the Reflector pitches upon to consider, may be of another Nature; as though the Glow-worm, which afforded me the I. Vth Reflection of the Vth Section, be but a small and contemptible Insect, yet the Light which shines in his Tail, and which makes the chief Theme of the Meditation, is a noble and heavenly Quality, and might have justified the having many things said of it, for which the Sublime Character would have been the most proper. The other particular I meant to point at, is, That oftentimes, when the Protasis, or former part of a Reflection, is spent upon considering some mean and Trivial subject; the Apodosis, or Reddition, contains such an Application of what one was taking notice of in the Subject, that the thing Pointed at, may be some important Moral Instruction, or perhaps some Theological Mystery; and consequently may Require and Justify, Another than the former humble Style, and admit all the Quickness of Expression and the richest Ornaments, that belong to those two higher Characters which Rhetoricians call the Subtle, and the Magnificent. But if I should now and then deviate from Bounds, which, not being Conspicuous, 'tis difficult Never to swerve from; I have this Peculiar Apology to make for such Aberrations; That writing for the most part of Themes wholly New, and untreated of by others, I must needs want the assistance of Examples to Regulate or Authorise my Expressions: about which I need not yet be very Solicitous, if I may trust a Learned and applauded Writer (whose censure I desired) that is both able to judge skilfully, and wont to judge freely.  
These things I have the more carefully Insisted on, because I would not have those Ingenious Persons, that may chance to cast their Eyes on these Papers, to be tempted by any imperfections of mine, to think otherwise of Occasional Meditations, than that though there be some, yet there are not very many, of their Themes so Low and Contemptible, but they are capable of affording Reflections of Another nature to Them, that are dexterous in making Applications of things. And I would not have such discouraged from hoping to find in many Themes, that seem despicable at first sight, some Hint or other that may give those that have Wit or Eloquence, Opportunity enough to display those Qualities. For as there is a great difference betwixt Such Writers, and Common ones, so 'tis very material by what Pens the Subject is treated of; and Extraordinary persons, in Estimating what they are like to perform, must not only consider the unpromising Nature of their Subject, but the Activity of their own Fancy, and the Pregnancy of their own Wit. For though the Stars cannot, the Luminaries can, cloth the light and wand'ring vapours of the Air, with the colour of Gold, and of Roses; And the Sun, by his piercing and improving Beams, cannot only make Diamond sparkle, and Rubies flame, but by his action upon an obscure Cloud can make even That exhibit all those Glorious and charming Colours, for which we admire the Rainbow.  
And, that the following Papers may prove to such Persons the lesser Temptations to undervalue and mis-judge of this kind of Composures; I am first to advertise the Reader, that they are capable of so much greater Variety, than the following Treatise presents, that besides the vast multitudes of particulars unmentioned in it, that may be added under those Heads to which the ensuing Meditations are referred, there are several distinct sorts or kinds of Occasional Thoughts (such as those that are Made upon Texts of Scripture, or Relate to less familiar points of Divinity, or other Learning, or contain Historical Applications, etc.) upon which I have, out of haste, and other Reasons, purposely forborn (though not to write, yet) to publish Reflections. And in the next place, I must here frankly acknowledge, that many of the ensuing Reflections are so far from being the Best, that en'n no better a Pen than Mine could make, that they are much Inferior to divers that I have already Made; though (for allowable Considerations) I have for born to Publish them. And I must confess, that I am more beholden to my Occasional Reflections, than they are to me. For, whereas they have furnished me with Divers of the Thoughts, which have been the favourablyest entertained by the Readers of my other Books of Devotion, I did much impoverish these Papers, that professedly contain my Occasional Reflections, by not only leaving, but taking out of them several things, which were the most likely to have recommended them; that I might accommodate other Writings, for which I had a greater Kindness or Concern.  
As for the Discourse of Occasional Reflections, all that I shall say of it, is, That considering how early I attempted that Subject, and that I was fain to repair, as well as I could, the unseasonable Miss of divers Papers belonging to it, when I dispatched it to the Press; considering these things (I say) I despair not but that it will be thought, that I have not said nothing in favour of a Subject that hitherto had so little said to recommend it, That even the Eloquent Bishop Hall, 
* In the latter part of his Proem, whereof the whole amounts not to one Page of this Preface.  employing but some Lines, not Pages, upon the Prize and Utility of it, (which he mentions but in very General Terms) left me to find out, by my own Thoughts and Experience, the various Considerations, by which I have endeavoured to Display the Usefulness of the way of thinking I would invite to. Which I have further manifested, by applying to that Scope, divers passages of Scripture, (which the Reader must therefore not wonder, if he do not now meet with) as Texts, that either by way of Example, or upon other Accounts, belong to what I have written about the Method of making Occasional Reflections.  
'Tis true, the Discourse may seem somewhat Incomplete, because of the Omission of this Way (that is more than once mentioned in it.  
But though the loose Papers, wherein that Method, and divers Examples of it, are set down, were lying by me, when I tacked up those that now come abroad; yet my Occasions easily prevailed with me to continue to suppress them. For though I did not much scruple to comply with my haste, and Avocations, by forbearing to swell a Book, whose Bulk already much exceeded my Intention; because, that, as the Papers that now appear, were extorted from me; so I confess, that I was not fond of exposing those that I had an expedient to keep back, but that I think it very fit to observe, first, whether the Reception that the following Meditations will find, will make me and others think it worth while, to have the ways published, that I was wont to use in making them.  
I had almost forgot to intimate, That some urgent Avocations having obliged me to send the following Treatise to the Press without reading it over myself, I now find that my haste will make me need an Apology to those Readers, that expect to have the passages and Phrases of Scripture printed in a discriminating Letter, and quoted in the Margin. For though in Books of Positive, or of Controversial Divinity, I confess I have often observed, a Margin stuffed with a multitude of Citations, to contain divers so unconcluding, if not impertinent, That the Number does better show the Author's Memory than his judgement, yet in Books of Devotion, I am not much averse from complying with the generality of Readers, who expect to be informed by the Margin, where they may find those Stories, and Expressions, which their being borrowed from an inspired Book, make more Operative and Emphatical. But I must on this Occasion further intimate, That as to those Citations of Passages of scripture wherein I may seem to have misrecited the Words of the Text; though as to some of them that were set down when I had not a Bible or Concordance at hand, my Memory may have deceived me as to the words (which is no more than has often happened to the Fathers themselves in the like case, and is a venial fault, where Dogmatical or Polemmical Divinity are not concerned) yet oftentimes my variations from the English Version, were made on purpose. For having had the Curiosity to get myself instructed, as well by Jews as Christians, in the Eastern Tongues (especially the Hebrew) I thought I need not strictly confine myself to the words of our Translators, when ever I could render the meaning of a Text in such terms as to me seemed proper or expressive; or without injuring the sense of the Hebrew or the Greek, could better accommodate my presence purpose.  
Now whereas some may think that in this Preface I employ Excuses that seem (some of them) not to agree with one another; I desire it may be considered, That the Meditations they relate to, being not only written upon differing Subjects, but (which is more) designed for very differing uses (some of those Discourses being intended to invite the more unskilful, and Encourage the more Despondent sort of Readers; and Others, to entertain Proficients) it was but Requisite that I should by very Differing, (and perchance seemingly Repugnant) Considerations give an Account of such differing Ways of writing of them, as such distant Subjects, and my Scope, required.  
But what if it should far with me Now as it has done on other Occasions, on which my friends have accused me, of framing more Objections against myself, than were afterwards made against me by my Readers? I dare not say it is impossible but that this may prove the case. But if it do so, I shall not yet think myself to have Altogether missed my aim in what I have hitherto represented. For I have Mentioned the more particulars, and Discoursed the more largely of them, that if they prove not needful Apologies for my Reflections, they may prove useful Considerations for those whom I would invite to exercise their Pens in some such way of Writing: Divers of whom will probably be encouraged to venture upon making such composures, when they find Excuses for divers of those things that are the most likely to be thought to Blemish such Essays, (or drhearten Beginners from attempting them) to be disawn up already to their Hands. But as for my own particular, if I could make none of the Apologies now insisted on, for the Imperfections imputable to this Treatise; yet I should not be destituted of a very just Excuse for the Publication of it. For divers Devout Persons, that had more Partiality for these Writings, and less Tenderness of my Reputation, than I could have wished; having long solicited the Publications of those they had in their Hands, were at length so Resolved to effect it, that, in spite of the promises I at length made them to comply with their desires, when some other Writings I was then about, should be Dispatched: I was fain to make use of a Legal Artifice to hinder for a while at the Stationer's Hall the Publication of divers Papers that I had not so much as read over.  
But I confess I take notice of these passages, rather to excuse these imperfections, which Hast may have Occasioned in these immatue Productions, them to Apologise for writing on Such a Subject. For so many Advantages that may accrue to a Devout and skilful Person, by assiduously making of Occasional Meditations, have been displayed in the Discourse that is premised to those that follow; that I hope the former Part of this Book will sufficiently Apologise, for my having written the later: Especially if to the Other particulars proposed in the newly named Discourse, as things fit to Recommend that kind of Thoughts, I here be allowed to add, That a man's Devotion may not alone be cherished by Occasional Meditations, upon the Account of those which every private Christian makes for Himself, but by the help also of those which he finds made By others, or intends for them. For not only whilst pious Reflections are making, they are proper to Instruct the Mind, 
Would we but keep our wholesome Notions together Mankind would too rich. Bp. Hall in his Proem.  and Warm the Affections; but the Objects upon which such Meditations have been made already, either by ourselves or others, do Revive the Memory of those good Thoughts, that were suggested by them. So that when Diligence and Proficiency in the Practice of our Meleteticks, shall have supplied us with Religious and handsome Reflections, upon the most Obvious Works of Nature, and the most Familiar Occurrences of humane Life; Devout persons will have the Advantage to live almost Surrounded either with Instructours, or Remembrancers. And when they want Skill, or are indisposed to extract Spiritual things out of Earthly ones, they may, without racking their Invention, be furnished with good Thoughts, upon many Objects by their Memory. For, (as I elsewhere more fully declare,) those Truths and Notions that are dressed up in apt Similitudes, pertinently applied, are wont to make durable Impressions on that Faculty, insomuch that though I am far from Pretending any of the Reflections to be met with in the following Treatise, to be of that Nature; yet such as they are, divers Considerable persons of differing Ages and Sexes, have been pleased to say (which is an Advantage may richly recompense more trouble than those Writings cost me) That they scarce ever see such or such particular Things on which I have written Reflections, without remembering both those Thoughts, and their Author. So that They who have so easily attainable ●hings, as Happier Pens than Mine, in setting down Occasional Meditation, may have the Satisfaction of making almost the whole World a great 
* So they call a certain Room, Arficially furnished with Pictures or other Images of things, whereby to help the Memory,  Conclave Mnemonicum, and a well furnished Promptuary, for the service of Piety and Virtue, and may almost under every Creature and Occurrence lay an Ambuscade against Sin and Idleness.  
Nor is this Indirectway of instructing men, Unlawful for a Christian, or Unworthy of him. For in the spiritual Warfar, where our Adversary is the old Serpent, Stratagems are as Lawful as Expedient, and he that gets the victory, whether or no he Wins Reputation by the Manner, is sure to obtain (a greater Recompense) Glory, by the Success. A Teacher is not obliged to imitate Alexander, who upon a Disputable Punctilio of Gallantry, that was neither Wise, nor Charitable, refused to steal a Victory: For the Prophet Nathan scrupled not to Deceive David, that he might Reclaim him; and surprise him into a Confession of the Criminousness of his fault. And the Apostles being termed by their Masier, Fishers of Men, were warranted to make use of Baits as well as Hooks, and Nets. And our Saviour himself, by the Parable of the Wicked Husbandman that usurped the Vine, drew the Pharisees to an Acknowledgement, which they started from as soon as they perceived what they had done. And the same Divine Teacher, did so frequently employ Fictions to teach Truths, that to condemn Figurative and Indirect ways of conveying even Serious and Sacred matters, is to forget How often Christ himself made use of Parables. And I am the less troubled to see some Thoughts of mine, which, though unpolished, have an natural tendency to Inveigle men (if I may so speak) into Piety and Virtue, thrust abroad into the World; Not only because I see no reason to Despair, that even as to the most Obnoxious of these Meditations, the Examples they afford may make them Useful, when the Things they contain, do not make them Considerable and Equitable, Readers will rather pity, than Admire to find, that an Author does not Soar whilst he is Clogged or Depressed by the Meanness of his Subject: but because some Experience seems to promise, that their Novelty and Variety, will procure the Book in the general, a favourable Entertainment; And, indeed if I had written in a more usual or a more solemn way, I should perchance have had no Readers but Divines, or Humanists, or Devout Persons, or Despisers of the World, or (in a word) the Masters, or Lovers of that one kind of Learning, to which my Subject did belong: But treating as I do, of Whatever chanced to come in my way, and consequently of many very Differing, and Unusual things, Curiosity will probably invite both the Learned and the Devout; both Gentlemen, and Ladies; and, in a word, Inquisitive Persons of several Kind's & Condition's, to cast their Eyes upon these Reflections; which, by their Variety and Shortness, will have this advantage, towards the making them entertained with Patience, that scarce any of them will give him that peruses them, above half a quarter of an hours Exercise of it.  
And as I thought it not any Fault to have a Regard to what was like to Please a good part of the Readers I wrote for, (though it would not else perhaps have pleased me, any more than it will the nicer palates of the Critics;) So if these Trifles chance to meet with half so kind a Reception from the Public, as they have had from Particular Persons, I shall not, perhaps, want the Consolation, which may be derived from the Judgement of a great Master of Wit, who scrupled not to affirm, That he had rather his Entertainments should please the Guests, than the Cooks. Though they that would complete the Good Fortune of these Papers, may do it more effectually, by Addicting themselves, as considerable Persons have been of late induced to do) to Write Occasional Reflections (how excellent soever they may prove) than by being Kind to These; since having written them, not to get Reputation, but Company, I cannot but be Unwilling to travel alone: and had rather be outgone, than not at all followed, and Surpassed, than not Imitated.   

An Advertisement touching the IV. Section.  
A Reader that is not Unattentive, may easily collect from what he will meet with in some of the ensuing Discourses, That they were written several years ago, under an Usurping Government, that then prevailed. And this may keep it from appearing strange, That in Papers, which contain some things not likely to be Relished by those that were then in Power, the Author should take occasion to speak of himself as of Another person, as well to avoid the being Suspected by them, in case his Papers should come into any of their hands, as to comply with the Design he then had; That if these Discourses should happen to be made public, the Reader might be left to guess, whether or no he were entertained with a Fiction or a true Narrative. And though a Change of Circumstances, has occasioned the Publication of these Papers, which should have come forth by themselves (if at all) in such a way as will make most Readers look upon them as containing a Story purely Romantic: Yet they may have in them much less of Fiction, than Such will ('tis like) Imagine. For being really a great Lover of Angling, and frequently diverting myself at that sport, sometimes alone, and sometimes in Company; the Accidents of that Recreation, were the true Themes, on which the following Discourses were not the Only Meditations I had made. Nor is the Intimation given at the end of this (4 th') Section, of a further Continuation of such Discourses, an Artifice or shift, to steal away from a Conversation I was unable to Continue, without seeming to do so; there being in readiness divers Reflections relating to our Anglers, which had furnished Eusebius and his Friends with Discourses for the Afternoon, if I had judged, that to invite an Addition to so Prolix an Account as I had given of them already, nothing could be requisite but a Supply of Thoughts.   

A DISCOURSE Touching Occasional Meditations.  

SECT. I.  

CHAP. I.  
THE way of Thinking, whose Productions begin to be known by the name of Occasional Meditations, is, if rightly practised, so advantageous, and so delightful, that 'tis Pity, the greatest part, even of serious and devout Persons, should be so unacquainted with it: And therefore, Dear Sister, your Desire to bring this way of Meditation into Request, with some of our Friends, is that which I cannot disapprove. But I am so far from having the Vanity to think, that the Trifles of this kind, your Commands make me trouble you with, would recommend Occasional Reflections to those, whose Eyes they were not meant for, that I think myself obliged to premise something touching the Usefulness of this way of Meditating, lest the careless and unpolished Instances you will I fear meet with, among those I now present you, should disparage and bring a Prejudice upon Composures of this kind in general; Wherefore, judging it requisite, to premise something touching this way of thinking, I shall forthwith apply myself to that Task: And I should judge it a very natural Distribution to divide the following Discourse into two parts, the first of which should contain some Invitations to the Cultivating this sort of Meditations, and the latter should offer something by way of Method, towards the better framing of them. But lest I should at this time be hindered from treating of each of them distinctly, I will at present omit that Division, and endeavour in recompense so to deliver the Motives I am to propose, that the first part of the Discourse may not appear maimed, though it be unattended by the second, and yet the Particulars that might compose the second, may (if it prove convenient to mention them at this time) be commodiously enough inserted in opportune places of the first.  
Of Inducements to this Exercise, I might perhaps name many, but for order sake, I shall comprise them in the ensuing five; the first whereof will take up the present Section, and the remaining four, as many others.   

CHAP. II.  
ANd first, the way of Meditating, I would recommend, conduces to keep the Soul from Idleness, and Employments worse than Idleness; for while a Man's thoughts are busied about the present subjects of his Reflections, our Ghostly Adversary is discouraged to attempt that Soul, which he sees already taken up, with something that is at least innocent, if not good. If I had not elsewhere displayed the Evil and Danger of Idleness, and represented it as a thing, which, though we should admit not to be in itself a sin, yet may easily prove a greater mischief than a very great one, by at once tempting the Tempter to tempt us, and exposing the empty Soul, like an uninhabited place, to the next Passion or Temptation that takes the opportunity to seize upon it: If (I say) I had not elsewhere discoursed at large against Idleness, I might here represent it as so formidable an Enemy, that it would appear alone a sufficient Motive to welcome our way of Meditation; That it banishes Idleness. He that is versed in making Reflections upon what occurs to him; He that (consequently) has the works of Nature, and the actions of Men, and almost every Casualty that falls under his Notice, to set his Thoughts on work, shall scarce want Themes to employ them on: And he that can (as it were) make the World vocal, by furnishing every Creature, and almost every occurrence, with a Tongue to entertain him with, and can make the little Accidents of his Life, and the very Flowers of his Garden, read him Lectures of Ethics or Divinity; such a one, I say, shall scarce need to fly to the Tavern, or a worse place, to get a Drawer, or a Gamester (perhaps no better qualified) to help him to get rid of his time, such a one will rather pity, than pursue those, who think it their Privilege to spend their whole Life in Diversions from the main Business of it; and out of an unskilful, and ill governed self-love, are come to that pass, that they cannot endure to be with themselves. Such a one will not need to frequent the company of those Gamesters, that are sure to lose that, which all their win will never be able to buy, or to redeem, and expose themselves coldly to as many Casualties, as even War could threaten; and voluntarily tempt those Passions, it is the Task of Wisdom to decline, and a Virtue to suppress; losing nothing but their time, without losing their Patience too, and commonly a great part of that Reverence and Submission they owe to him, of whom the Scripture tells us, 
Prov. 16. 33.  that even of Lots themselves, the whole disposal is his. Nor will he need, for want of knowing what to do when he is alone, to make it his almost daily Employment, to make impertinent Visits, to unsanctifyed Companies, where sometimes he may lose his good Name, often his Innocence, oftener his Zeal, and always his Time.  
And, as the Exercise, I would persuade, will help to keep us from Idleness, so will it, to preserve us from harbouring evil Thoughts, which there is no such way to keep out of the Soul, as to keep her taken up with good ones; as Husbandmen, to rid a piece of rank Land of Weeds, do often find it as effectual a Course to sow it with good Seed, as to cut them down, or burn them up. And indeed, the Thoughts of many a Person, are oftentimes so active, and restless, that something or other they must, and will perpetually be doing; and like unruly Soldiers, if you have not a care to employ them well, they will employ themselves ill.  
Wherefore, when a Man hath once rendered this way of Thinking, familiar, sometimes the subject of his Meditation will lead him to Thoughts, and excite Affections, full of Serenity, and Joy, like those fair Mornings, where the cloudless Beams, and cherishing warmth of the Sun, inviting the Lark to aspire towards Heaven, make her at once mount, and sing; and when the Mind is raised to such a welcome and elevated state, to listen to an ordinary Temptation, a Man must forgo his Pleasure, as well as violate his Duty, and in the difference betwixt the Employment that busies him, and that whereto he is solicited to stoop, he will easily discern, that his Innocence will not be the only thing that he would lose by so disadvantageous a Change; And sometimes too, whether or no the Employment that busies his Thoughts, happen to be so delightful, it will however appear to be so considerable, that it will seasonably furnish him with that excellent Answer of Nehemiah, to those that would have diverted him from building of the Temple, to come to a Treaty with them, 
Nehemiah 6. 3.  I am doing a great Work, (and such indeed is the serving God, and the improving the Mind, whether we consider its Importance, or its Difficulty) so that I cannot come down; why should the work cease, whilst I leave it, and come down to you? Which last Expression suits very well with the present case, since, when a pious Soul is once got upon the wing of Contemplation, she must descend and stoop to exchange her converse with Heavenly objects, for one with Earthly vanities, and much more must she debase and degrade herself, if the things she is tempted to, be Lusts, which she will thence clearly discern, to be as Low as the Hell they belong to, and deserve.  
And as these Objects will afford Employment enough to our Reflector, so will the wholesome Instructions they will suggest, incline him to shun those ways of wasting his time, which they enable him easily to avoid: For I have observed this Difference, betwixt Ghostly dangers, and ordinary ones, that, whereas in Military hazards, those that are the most forward to thrust themselves into dangers, are commonly the best able to surmount them; they on the contrary, are wont to be the most fearful of Temptations, that are the most resolved, and best qualified to resist them.   

CHAP. III.  
NOr will the Meleteticks (or way, and kind of Meditation) I would persuade, keep Men alone from such gross and notorious Idleness, that they may be asked the Question, proposed by the Housholder in the Gospel, 
Matth. 20. 6.  Why sit ye here all the Day idle? But this way of Thinking, may in part keep Men from the loss of such smaller parcels of Time, as though a mere moralist would not perhaps censure the neglect of them in others, yet a Devout person would condemn it in himself: For betwixt the more stated Employments, and important Occurrences of humane Life, there usually happen to be interposed certain Intervals of Time, which, though they are wont to be neglected, as being singly, or within the Compass of one day inconsiderable, yet in a Man's whole Life, they may amount to no contemptible Portion of it. Now these uncertain Parentheses, (if I may so call them) or Interludes, that happen to come between the more solemn Passages (whether Businesses, or Recreations) of humane Life, are wont to be lost by most Men, for want of a Value for them, and even by good Men, for want of Skill to preserve them: For though they do not properly despise them, yet they neglect, or lose them, for want of knowing how to rescue them, or what to do with them. But as though grains of Sand and Ashes be a part, but of a despicable smallness, and very easy, and liable to be scattered, and blown away; yet the skilful Artificer, by a vehement Fire, brings Numbers of these to afford him that noble substance, Glass, by whose help we may both see ourselves, and our Blemishes, lively represented, (as in Looking-glasses) and discern Celestial objects, (as with Telescopes) and with the Sunbeams, kindle disposed Materials, (as with Burning-glasses) So when these little Fragments, or Parcels of Time, which, if not carefully looked to, would be dissipated, and lost, come to be managed by a skilful Contemplator, and to be improved by the Celestial fire of Devotion, they may be so ordered, as to afford us both Looking-glasses, to dress our Souls by, and Perspectives to discover Heavenly wonders, and Incentives to inflame our hearts with Charity and Zeal; And since Goldsmiths and Refiners are wont all the year long carefully to save the very sweep of their Shops, because they may contain in them some Filings, or Dust of those richer Metals, Gold and Silver; I see not why a Christian may not be as careful, not to lose the Fragments and lesser Intervals of a thing incomparably more precious than any Metal, Time; especially, when the Improvement of them, by our Meleteticks, may not only redeem so many Portions of our Life, but turn them to pious Uses, and particularly to the great Advantage of Devotion.  
And indeed, the Affairs and Customs of the World, the Employments of our particular Callings, the allowable Recreations, that Health, or Weariness requires, and the Multitude of unfore-seen, and scarce evitable Avocations, that are wont to share our Time among them, leave us so little of it, to employ in the set and solemn Exercises of Devotion, and make those so unfrequent, that our Hearts are in great Danger, of being, by the Business, and Pleasures, and Hurry of the World, if not perverted from Aspiring to, at least too long diverted from Enjoying, Communion with God, and kept too much Strangers to Him, if in the long Intervals of our more solemn Exercises of Devotion, we be not careful to lay hold on the short, and transient Opportunities of Cherishing, and reviving, that Grace in us, and do not by the Rises given us by the Things that occur, take occasion to make frequent, though but short Flights Heaven-wards, in extemporary Reflections, serious Soliloquies, piercing Ejaculations, and other mental, either Exercises, or Expressions of Devotion, by which means, we may make those very objects, and occasions, that would Discourage, or at least Distract, our Minds, elevate and animate them: As Jonathan made those very things, whereby his Enemies, the Philistims, sought to entrap, or destroy him, Encouragements to fight with them, and Omens of his Victory over them. And as scarce any Time is so short, but that things so Agile, and asspiring as the Flames of a Devout Soul, may take a flight to Heaven, (as Nehemiah could find time to dart up a successful Prayer to the Throne of Grace, whilst he stood waiting behind the King of Persia's Chair) so by these extemporary Reflections, as well as by other mental Acts of Piety duly made, a Devout Soul may not only rescue these precious Fragments of Time, but procure Eternity with them.    

SECT. II.  

CHAP. I.  
A Second Inducement to the Practice of making Occasional Meditations, is, that for an Exercise of Devotion, 'tis very delightful, and that upon sundry accounts.  
For first, Variety is a thing so pleasing to humane Nature, that there are many things, which it, either alone, or chiefly, recommends to us, and 'tis rarely seen, that we love the same things very much, and very long; and of things that else would appear equally good, we usually think that the better, which happens to be another. Now, a Person addicted to make Occasional Meditations, may be supplied with Subjects, whose Variety is scarce imaginable: For the works of Nature, and of Art, are not the only Objects that often present themselves to our Reflector's Consideration; The Revolutions of Governments, the Fates of Kingdoms, the Rise and Ruin of Favourites; and on the other side, the most slight and trivial Occurrences: And in short, all that he sees happen from the highest Transactions, to the slightest Circumstances, incident to humane affairs, may afford matter of Contemplation to a Person disposed to it. The mind of Man is so comprehensive, and so active a faculty, that it can force its passage into those imaginary spaces, that are beyond the outermost part of the outermost Heaven, and can in a moment return back, to consider the smallest Circumstances of the meanest of humane affairs; so that the thinking faculty, being equally fit, and disposed to reflect upon the works of God, and the actions of Men, how unlikely is it, that it should want Variety of Subjects to be employed on, whilst the whole World makes but a part of its Object: And the several Productions of Nature, and Art, of the Providence of God, and the Will of Man, may be so many ways considered, and 〈◊〉 ●●riously compounded, that they may 〈◊〉 be supposed capable of affording Occasions to Notions, and Reflections, far more numberless than themselves; so that the most vigorous, and the most active Soul, is in less danger of wanting fresh Game, than Thoughts to pursue such endless Variety of it.  
Besides, whereas Men are wont, for the most part, when they would Study hard, to repair to their Libraries, or to Stationer's Shops; the Occasional Reflector has his Library always with him, and his Books lying always open before him, and the World itself, and the Actions of the Men that live in it, and an almost infinite Variety of other Occurrences being capable of proving Objects of his Contemplation; he can turn his Eyes no whither, where he may not perceive somewhat or other to suggest him a Reflection.  
But, that which may much endear such Meditations, is, their suprizing even him, whose Thoughts they are: For one of the chief accounts, upon which Wit itself is delightful, is, in very many cases, the unexpectedness of the things that please us; that unexpectedness being the highest Degree of Novelty, which, as I freshly noted, does exceedingly gratify most Men's minds. We need not in this case, as in most others, make an uneasy Preparation to entertain our Instructors; for our Instructions are suddenly, and as it were cut of an Ambuscade, shot into our Mind, from things whence we never expected them, so that we receive the advantage of learning good Lessons, without the trouble of going to School for them, which, to many, appears the greatest trouble that is to be undergone, for the Acquist of Knowledge. But though these Irradiations of Light, be oftentimes sudden, as that which we receive from flashes of Lightning, yet 'tis not always upon the single account of this suddenness, that the Instructions, presented us by Occasional Meditations, have an unexpectedness; for oftentimes, the Subject that is considered, appears not to be any thing at all of Kin to the Notion it suggests. And there are many of these Reflections, whose Titles, though they name the occasion of them, do so little assist, even an ingenious Reader, to guess what they contain, that if you tell him what is treated of, he will scarce imagine, how such Thoughts can be made to have a Relation to such remote Subjects; And the Informations we receive from many Creatures, and Occurrences, are oftentimes extremely distant from what, one would conjecture to be the most obvious, and natural Thoughts those Themes are fitted to present us, though, when the Circumstances are throughly examined, and considered, the Informations appear proper enough: Thus, when a Navigator suddenly spies an unknown Vessel afar off, before he has hailed her, he can scarcely, if at all, conclude what he shall learn by her, and he may from a Ship, that he finds perhaps upon some remoter coast of Africa, or the Indies, meet with Informations concerning his own Country, and affairs; And thus sometimes a little Flower may point us to the Sun, and by casting our eyes down to our feet, we may in the water see those Stars that shine in the Firmament or highest visible Heaven.   

CHAP. II.  
AND, lastly, the pleasantness of these Meditations, to him that hath attained skill in making them, will, if he be not much mortified, be much increased by their being Proofs, as well as Effects, of Skill. To be able to take up Instructions in Books that are replenished with them, and where they are purposely and distinctly exhibited in the form of Instructions, requires rather that a man be docile than ingenious, but to be able to collect Moral and Spiritual Documents out of a Book of Hieroglyphics, or from a Lanscape or a Map, is more than every attentive considerer can do, and is that which argues something of Dexterousness and Sagacity that is not very ordinary. And so, from Ethical or Theological Composures, to take out Lessons that may improve the Mind, is a thing much inferior to the being able to do the like out of the Book of Nature, where most Matters that are not Physical, if they seem not to be purposely veiled, are at least but darkly hinted. And methinks there is such a difference betwixt him that but takes up Instructions in Books of Morality and Devotion, and him that by Occasional Reflections derives them from the Book of Nature, and the Accidents he chances to take notice of, as there is betwixt an Ant that contributes nothing either to the Production or Improvement of the Corn she lays up and feeds on, but only carries away that which she finds ready formed into its little Granary or Repository, and the Industrious Bee, who, without stealing from Flowers any thing that can prejudice them, does not only gather, but improve and transform, her food, and live on that which otherwise would be useless, and besides, not only has the pleasure to gather its food from Flowers, and from variety of them, but lives upon Honey, an Aliment that is as sweet and delicious as nutritive. 'Twas doubtless a very great pleasure to Aesop, that by his ingenious Fictions he could, in a manner, lend Reason and Speech to Lions, Foxes, Crows, and other Animals, to whom Nature had denied both; and I know not why it should be less delightful, by Occasional Reflections, to turn not only Birds and Beasts, but all kinds of Creatures in the world, as well mute and inanimate, as irrational, not only into Teachers of Ethics, but oftentimes into Doctors of Divinity, and by compelling senseless Creatures to reveal Truths to us, that they were never acquainted with themselves, perform really something like that, which was but pretended by the ancient Augurs and other Diviners the Heathen world admired, who took upon them, by the casual flights of Birds, and the Inspection of the entrails of Beasts, to learn the Will of Heaven. 'Tis a piece of skill, for which Mathematicians have been deservedly admired, and which is little less pleasing to those that have it, than wonderful to those that have it not, that as if Artists were able to prescribe to the Sun and Moon, and the rest of the luminous Globes of Heaven, both their pace and their stages, they can make that inexhausted Fountain of Light, at so immense a Distance, by the Shadow of a little Gnomon, fitly placed, give us an exact account of all the Journeys he performs in the Zodiac; but perhaps, 'tis neither a less noble nor a less delightful piece of skill, to be able, by an innocent kind of Necromancy, to consult the dead, and conjure up wormeaten Carcases out of their Mossy Graves, without fearing to hear from them such dismal Discourses as Saul had from dead Samuel, and to make, not the Stars only, but all the Creatures of Nature, and the various occurrences that can fall under our notice, conspire to enrich us with Instructions they never meant us; since the Motion of the celestial lights are known, certain, and invariable; but these particulars are neither to be defined by number, nor limited by Rules. Not to say, that this Secret does as much excel that other, which recommends Astronomy, as Wisdom does Science, and is as much the more useful of the two, as to know how to pass away our time is more profitable, than to know how our time passes away.  
But there is a fourth particular, which, though somewhat less directly than the three I have already discoursed of, may be reduced to the Pleasantness of Occasional Meditations; and it is, That whereas our innate Self-love is wont to make any thing that minds us of our faults exceedingly uneasy and unwelcome: in the Discoveries that, by this way of thinking, are made us of what is amiss, the uneasiness is very much allayed, and the Pill very well gilded. For there are two main things that conduce to the sweetening of Reproofs▪ and to keep men from being offended at them; The one is, when they come from a person whom we love, and whom we believe to love us, and to have no other design in displeasing us than that of serving us: And the other is, That the Discovery that is made us of our faults be sweetened by Acknowledgements of our having Qualities of a commendable Nature, whence wise Reprovers usually mingle, and, as it were, brew their Reprehensions with Praises. Now, both these pleasing Vehicles, if I may so call them, and Correctives of Reproofs, concur in those we meet with in making Occasional Reflections. For, in these cases, being our own Instructors, and our own Consciences being the Makers of the Application, we cannot suspect the Reprehensions to come from Persons, that either mistake us, or are partial against us; and that Truth which a man's Conscience applies to him, being found out by the sagacity of his own Understanding, extracting from Objects that which every Considerer would not have picked out thence; it may very often happen, that the same Reflection will discover to a man his Excellencies, as well as make him take notice of his faults; and that which makes him condemn the Disorders of his Affections, may argue, and thereby commend, the Goodness of his Parts.   

CHAP. III.  
I Know, it may be objected against the pleasantness of the Mental Exercise I have been speaking of, That to make Occasional Meditations is a work too difficult to be delightful.  
In Answer to this, I might represent, That there are employments wherein their being attended with somewhat of difficulty, is so far from deterring us, that it recommends them: as we see that in Hunting and Hawking, the toil that must be undergone is so much an indearment of the Recreation, of which it makes a great part, that when it happens that we do not meet with difficulties enough, we create new ones, as when Huntsmen give the Hare Law, (as they speak) for fear of killing her before they have almost killed their Horses, and perhaps themselves, in following her: Yet I shall rather choose to make a more direct Answer, by observing, That the difficulties imagined in the practice I am treating of, seem to arise, not so much from the nature of the thing itself, as from some prejudices and misapprehensions that are entertained about it, especially the following two.  
The first is a needless Scruple, which makes some fancy themselves obliged to confine their thoughts to the subject that set them on work. And this dwelling long upon one Theme is to many men a thing uneasy and tedious enough. But for my part, I see no necessity of such a strictness; and I have often observed the thoughts successfully to follow objects of a quite differing nature from those that were first started, from which, perhaps, though more obstinately pursued, very little instruction or advantage would have been obtained, and it not unfrequently happens, that men trouble themselves in vain to make any profitable use of the considerations of those first objects, where the thoughts being licenced to expatiate themselves, they do often at length pitch upon somewhat or other that is instructive, and at which, perhaps, they aimed at the very first, though they attained it but by degrees, and pursued it by winding and untraced ways. As when we let a Greyhound loose in a Warren, we confine him not to the first Rabbit he makes after, since we see it frequently happens, that one sets him a running, and another proves his Quarry. Nor do I conceive such a practice disagreeable to the nature of Occasional Meditations, nor to be excluded by their name, for that appellation may well enough be applied to those emergent thoughts which fortuitous Occasions did awaken or suggest to us, nor is it necessary that our thoughts be always calculated for the subject that excited them, provided we thence took occasion to think: So that in some cases, the Occasion is not so much the Theme of the Meditation, as the Rise. For my part, I am so little scrupulous in this matter, that I would not confine Occasional Meditations to Divinity itself, though that be a very comprehensive Subject, but am ready to allow men's thoughts to expatiate much further, and to make of the Objects they contemplate not only a Theological and a Moral, but also a Political, an Oeconomical, or even a Physical use. And I doubt whether the groundless Imagination, that Occasional Reflections ought to be confined to matters of Devotion, or, at furthest, of Morality, have not much helped to keep our Meleteticks so little cultivated as hitherto they have been. And indeed there is so perfect an harmony, and so near a kindred, betwixt Truths, that, in many cases, the one does either find out, or fairly hint, or else illustrate or confirm, the other. And 'tis no wonder that divers of them should belong to the same Object, and be deduced from it. And if men were solicitous to apply the things they take notice of in Occasional Objects, to the discovery or illustration of Oeconomical, Political, or Physical matters, it would probably bring such kind of thoughts more into request with several sorts of men, and possibly conduce to the improvement of those parts of Knowledge themselves.   

CHAP. IU.  
THE other thing I proposed to mention, as that which discourages many from the addicting themselves to make Occasional Meditations, is a fancy, That to practise this kind of thinking, one is obliged to the trouble of writing down every Occasional Reflection that employs his thoughts; and they conclude it far easier to forbear making any, than to write down all: But, to do this, were to undertake a task no less unnecessary than tedious. Those Meditations indeed that have some Excellency in them, that fits them to instruct others, should for that purpose be kept from perishing, and those that were not conceived without some extraordinary Affection in a man's self, should be carefully pursued, as Bellows to blow or rekindle Devotion, by reminding us of the devout thoughts the like Objects had excited in us. But for the rest of our Occasional Reflections, though they fill our heads, they need not employ our hands, as having performed all the service that need be expected from them within the mind already.  
Nor would I have any man be discouraged from this way of thinking, that cannot express so much wit or eloquence in Occasional Meditations, as perhaps he may aspire to. For, besides that much subtlety of wit is not to be expected, or at least exacted, in this kind of composures, where we commonly make use of things rather out of haste than choice, as frequently being but the first thoughts we meet with, not the best we have; besides this, I say, that which ought most to endear this sort of Reflections to a Christian, is rather that they cherish piety, than that they express wit, and help to make the man good, whether or no they make his style be thought so. 'Twere injurious to nature to fancy, that the Figtree derives no benefit from the Rain and Sun, because they do not make it, like other Trees, flourish with Blossoms, more gaudy than necessary, though without praevious Buds it brings forth welcome Fruits. Not to add, that the difficulty of framing Occasional Meditations, need not be estimated by that which we find when we first addict ourselves to the making of them; for practice will by degrees so much lessen that difficulty, that after a while we shall find, that Occasional thoughts will need but small invitation to frequent those minds where they meet with a kind entertainment. And though men should be reduced to purchase this habitude at the rate of a little difficulty, I doubt not but they will find the benefit of it, when gotten, richly to recompense the trouble of acquiring it. Nor will the practice, that must contribute to the attainment of a reasonable degree of skill in making them, be half so troublesome when those Exercises but make up the habitude, as they will prove facile and delightful when they flow from it.    

SECT. III.  

CHAP. I.  
THe third grand Advantage that may be derived from the custom of making Occasional Meditations, is, That it conduces to the exercise and improvement of divers of the faculties of the mind. And this it may do upon several accounts.  
1. For, in the first place, it accustomes a man to an attentive observation of the Objects wherewith he is conversant. Whereas there is scarce any thing that may not prove the subject of an Occasional Meditation, so the natural propensity we have to manage well the Themes we undertake to handle, unperceivably engages us to pry into the several attributes and relations of the things we consider, to obtain the greater plenty of particulars, for the making up of the more full and complete Parallel betwixt the things whose resemblances we would set forth. By which means a man often comes to discover a multitnde of particulars even in obvious things, which, without such an engagement to attention, he would never have minded, and which common beholders take no Notice of. And though it may seem, that the habit, produced by the practice of Occasional meditating, should accustom a man to heed only such Objects as are like to suggest to him devout thoughts; yet, not to mention now that I shall advertise you anon, that there is no necessity of confining occasional meditations, to matters Devout, or Theological, I shall only represent, that, since we know not, before we have considered the particular Objects that occur to us, which of them will, and which of them will not, afford us the subject of an Occasional Reflection, the mind will, after a while, be engaged to a general and habitual attention, relating to the Objects that present themselves to it. Besides, that though we should at first apply our heedfulness to circumstances of only some few sorts of Objects, yet the habit, being once acquired, would easily reach to others than those that first occasioned it; as men, that by Learning to sing Anthems, are come to have critical ears, will be able to judge, much better than they could before, of the resemblances and differences of Tones in other Songs, and will take Notice of divers particularities in Voices, which would not be heeded by an unpractised Ear: And as we have made it appear, that the way of thinking we would recommend, does very much dispose men to an attentive frame of mind; so, that such a frame or disposition is a great advantage in the whole course of a man's life, will not appear improbable to him who duly considers, that since attention, like a magnifying glass, shows us, even in common Objects, divers particularities, undiscerned by those who want that advantage, it must needs make the things he is conversant with, afford the considerer much more of instruction than they obtrude upon the ordinary regardless beholder, and consequently, this exercise of the mind must prove a compendious way to Experience, and make it attainable without grey-hairs; for that, we know, consists not in the multitude of years, but of observations, from Numbers and variety of which it results: nor is there any reason, why prudence should be peculiarly ascribed to the Aged, except a supposition that such persons, by having lived long in the World, have had the opportunity of many and various occurrences to ripen their judgement; so that if one man can by his attention make, as well he may in a small compass of time, as great a number of Observations as less heedful Persons are wont to do in a longer, I see not why such a man's Experience may not be equal to his, that has lived longer; for it matters not much whether a man make a competent Number of Observations, in much time or in little, provided he have made them well.   

CHAP. II.  
II. THe Practice I would recommend, accustoms a man to make Reflections upon the things he takes notice of, and so, by exercising, improves his reasoning Faculty. For, as most men have much more strength and Agility in the right hand than in the left, and, generally speaking, those Limbs of the body that are most exercised, are stronger than the rest of the same kind, so the faculties of the mind are improved by Exercise, and those that we frequently employ, grow thereby the more vigorous and nimble. And, for my part, I have been often inclined to think, that the chief advantage that the reasoning faculty derives from the Institution received in Logick-Scholes, comes not so much from the Precepts themselves, which are pretended to make up an Art of reasoning, as from the frequent exercises that, by occasion of such Precepts, the Students are put upon; and perhaps, if men were obliged to read the controversies of subtle Wits, and to engage in frequent Disputations, both premeditated and extemporary, it would add little less of readiness and acuteness to their wits, though they disputed of other matters than such as properly belong to Logic, and were not before imbued with the Precepts of that Art; as we see, that the use of singing with those that can sing well, does much improve one's Voice, both as to strength and clearness, whatever the Tunes or Songs be that are sung, and how little soever those with whom one sings make it their Business to teach him the art of Music.  
But this is only Conjecture; and whether it be true or no, yet this I am confident is so, That the bringing of a man to be a thinking and a reflecting Person, is to procure him so great an Advantage, as though it were the only one may justly endear to him the custom of making Occasional Meditations; and he that could bring this practice into the Request it deserves, would do a greater piece of service, not only to the particular Persons he persuades, but to mankind in general, than the greater part of good men themselves seem to be aware of. For though God having been pleased to make Reason the chief part of our Nature, among the various Objects that daily occur to us, it can scarce be but that some or other will in a manner obtrude some Notions even upon the unattentive; yet certainly, all that has been found worthy of Mankind in Mathematics, Philosophy, and other kinds of Learning, has been attained by thinking Men, or by a frequent and regular Practice of employing the thoughts: And lest it should be objected, that these various, and Elaborate effects of assiduous meditation were the productions only of Philosophers or other men of speculative heads; Let us but consider, that though Gallants and Courtiers do seldom love to tyre themselves with thinking, and are as seldom fond of writing Books, not to add, fit to write them, and though love be not the fruitfulest Theme that may be pitched on, yet that Passion, and some Particulars relating to it, frequently busying their thoughts, and being several ways considered by them, has been displayed and contrived even by such writers as I have been just now mentioning, into those numerous Play's that daily employ the Stage, and those Voluminous Romances that are too often the only Books which make up the Libraries of Gallants, and fill the Closets of Lady's. He that most truly called himself, the Truth, tells us, that the Devil is not only a Liar, 
Jo. 8. 44.  but the Father of Lies, that is, the great Patron and Promoter of falsehood, and, as such, he studiously opposes all useful Truths; not only those for which we must be beholden to Revelation, but those also which may be attained by Ratiocination, and the well regulated exercise of our natural Faculty's; And he were much less an Adversary and an Old Serpent than he is, if his Enmity to God and Man, did not justly make him think that scarce any thing is more his interest than solicitously to divert men from thinking, and discourage them in it, there being few things whereby he could more effectually oppose at once, both the Glory of God and the good of Men. And sure, if so subtle an Adversary did not think it very much his Interest to be solicitous about this matter, it could not be that men should choose for a Privilege, the laying aside that faculty of Meditating which is indeed so much their Privilege, that, if Experience did not convince the contrary, I could never suspect that the Non-employing of their thoughts could be their Choice rather than their Punishment, and that rational Creatures, especially professing Christianity, should either keep idle, or confine to Employments worse than Idleness; so noble and improvable a Faculty, that enables an Ingenious Man to pry into the innermost Recesses of mysterious Nature, and discover there so much of the Wisdom; Power, and Goodness, of the Author, as are most fit to give the Discoverer a high and devout Veneration for those Excellencies. A Faculty, whereby an Inquisitive Soul may expatiate itself through the whole Immensity of the Universe, and be her own Teacher in a thousand cases, where the Book is no less delightful than the Lessons are Instructive. A Faculty (to conclude) by whose help the restless mind having dived to the lowermost parts of the Earth, can thence in a trice take such a Flight, that having traversed all the corporeal Heavens, and scorned to suffer herself to be confined with the very Limits of the World, she roves about in the ultra-mundane spaces, and considers how far they reach.   

CHAP. III.  
III. BEsides the two already mentioned Advantages, which the Intellectual part of the Mind may derive from the practice of Occasional Reflections, I should not scruple to add a third, if there were not too just Cause of apprehending, that my Writings may discredit any thing that comes proposed of that Nature, by no better a Pen, and that the manner of what I am about to deliver, may disparage the Matter. But since, from the Experience even of purblind and dim-sighted Persons, good Perspectives may be, not improperly, nor unsuccessfully, recommended, though their Native and peculiar Debility of Sight keep them from being able to see as clear, and as far, through such Glasses, as other Men can do, if themselves can, by the use of them, do far more than they could without them. I will adventure to speak of an improvement I cannot boast of, lest by suppressing the mention of an Advantage, because I cannot make it, I should seem either Vain, or Envious, as well as Dull. I shall then take notice, that the Meleteticks we are considering, may, where it finds a capable and disposed Subject, much improve that nimble and acceptable Faculty of the Mind, whereby some Men have a readiness, and subtlety, in conceiving things, and a quickness, and neatness, in expressing them, all which the custom of speaking comprehends under the name of Wit, which pleasing, and (if well managed) useful, Quality, the exercise I am discoursing of, may three or four several ways promote.  
For (first) the accustoming one's self to make Extemporal Reflections, and that upon all kind of Occasions, does by degrees bring the Mind to a readiness of Conception, which keeps a Man from being easily surprised by the Subject he has occasion to consider, and enables him oftentimes to surprise his Hearers; and that such a kind of surprise is one of the most endearing Circumstances of the productions of Wit, he must not have much considered the Nature of them, that ignores.  
Next, the same Exercise inures a Man to draw his Conceptions from the very Nature of the thing he speaks of, which, among those that can judge of Wit, is held a far greater sign of it, than the saying things more specious, and elaborate, that appear to be Ancienter than the Occasion, as is usual in Epigrams, and other solemn premeditated pieces of Wit, where oftentimes the Thoughts were not made for the Themes, but before them: Whereas, the suddenness of a good Occasional Reflection, and its congruity to that which gave it Rise, persuades the Hearers, that the Speaker's Wit is of its own growth, and is rather suggested by the Occasion, than barely applied to it.  
A third way, whereby our Meleteticks may conduce to Wit, is, by bringing those that use to write their Thoughts, to what may be called a certain Suppleness of Style; for when a Man treats of familiar, or of solemn Subjects, he is so much assisted by the received phrases and manners of speaking, that are wont to be employed about them, that being seldom at a loss for convenient expressions, his Wit is seldom distressed how to furnish him with words fit for his turn. But the Subjects that invite Occasional Reflections, are so various, and uncommon, and oftentimes so odd, that, to accommodate one's Discourse to them, the vulgar and received forms of Speech will afford him but little assistance, and to come off any thing well, he must exercise his Invention, and put it upon coining various and new Expressions, to suit that variety of unfamiliar Subjects, and of Occasions, that the Objects of his Meditation will engage him to write of: And by this difficult exercise of his Inventive faculty, he may by degrees so improve it, and, after a while, attain to so pliant a Style, that scarce any Thought will puzzle him to fit words to it, and he will be able to cut out Expressions, and make them sit close to such Subjects, as a Person unaccustomed to such kind of Composures, would find it very difficult to write of, with any thing of propriety.   

CHAP. IU.  
IT remains, that I mention one way more, and that a considerable one, whereby the practice of Occasional Reflections may contribute to the Improvement of Wit; and that is, by supplying Men with store and variety of good Comparisons.  
How great, and how acceptable, a part of Wit that is, which has the advantage to be expressed by apt Similitudes, every Man's own experience, if he please to consult it, may, in some measure, inform him. And certainly, there is no one part of Wit that is so generally applicable to all kind of Persons; for good Comparisons serve equally to illustrate, and to persuade; the greatest Wits disdain them not, and even ordinary Wits are capable to understand them, and to be affected by them; and if a Sermon, or a long Discourse, be enriched with one apt Comparison, what part soever else be forgotten, that will be sure to be remembered. And, a but plausible Argument, dressed up in fine Similitudes, shall be more praevalent among the generality of Men, than a Demonstration proposed in a naked Syllogism; and therefore, the ancient Sages did so much choose to employ a Figurative way of delivering their Thoughts, that when they could not furnish themselves with Resemblances fit for their turns, they would devise Parables, and Apologues, to recommend what they said to the attentention and memory of those they would work upon. And those famous Orators, who, though they Lived in Commonwealths, did, by their Eloquence, exercise a more than Monarchical Government there, and who, by their enchanting Tongues, ruled those Warlike people, whose Swords had made them Masters of the World; those imperial Wits, I say, whose Oratory performed such Wonders, performed them chiefly by the help of their happy Comparisons, which alone contributed more to their success, than almost all the other persuasive Figures of their Triumphant Rhetoric: Lucky Comparisons being indeed those parts of Wit, that as well make the strongest Impressions upon the Mind, as they leave the deepest on the Memory. Now, as the being furnished with apt Comparisons, does so very much conduce to the making a Man's Discourses and Writings appear Witty, so there is scarce any thing more fit and likely to supply a Man with store and variety of Comparisons, than the Custom of making Occasional Meditations: For he that uses himself to take notice of the properties and circumstances of most things that Occur to him, and to reflect on many of them, and thereby observes the relations of things to one another, and consequently discerns, how the properties or circumstances of one may be accommodated, by way of Resemblance or Dissimilitude, to somewhat that relates to the other, will often find, besides those things which afford him his Occasional Reflection, divers others, which, though less fit for the Meditation, that invited his taking notice of them, may be very fitly applicable to other subjects, and purposes, and will easily furnish him with Resemblances, wherewith he may, if he pleases, much increase the Books of Similitudes, already extant: And the Comparisons that may be this way lighted on, may sometimes prove strange, and unobvious enough, to be surprising even to Himself, as well as to his Auditors, or his Readers.   

CHAP. V.  
BUt, besides those Similitudes, we may be furnished with, by the things we observe, without turning them into Occasional Meditations, we may find in those very Subjects, whereon we do make Reflections, Circumstances, that, though improper, or at least unnecessary, to be taken into the Occasional Meditation, may be very fitly accommodateD to other things, and plentifully contribute to the store and variety of Comparisons we lately mentioned; this must appear so much a Truth, to any that is exercised in making Occasional Reflections, that I should perhaps forbear to illustrate it, by any particular example, but that this part of my Discourse recalls into my Mind some Thoughts that were suggested to me, by one of the last Occasions I had, to make Reflections of this Nature. I shall add then, that being all alone, and diverted a pretty while by a sudden storm of Thunder, Lightning, Wind, and Rain, from the employments I had designed myself to, I had the unwelcome leisure to make some Reflections upon the rude Objects that obtruded themselves upon my Observation.  
And the chief thing that presented itself to my Thoughts, was, a resemblance betwixt Profane or Atheistical wits, and the black Clouds that then overcast the Sky: For, as those Clouds are raised to an elevated Station, and do afford flashes of Light; so these Irreligious wits are oftentimes conspicuous enough, and may bring forth Notions that are surprising, and instructive; but as the same Clouds, whilst they give us but their own momentany Light, obscure (by darkening the Sky) and hinder us, as much as they can, from receiving that of the Sun, which reaches further, and is many other ways preferable to vanishing Coruscations; so these Wits, whilst they seem to enlighten those they dazzle, with their own new Opinions, do really deprive them of the true Heavenly Light, that would else shine forth to them in the revealed Word of God: And as the Light that we do receive from the Clouds, may dazzle and astonish us, but is not sufficient for us to Travel by; so the admired reasoning of these Sophisters may surprise and amaze us, but will never prove sufficient to be, like the Scripture, a constant Lamp unto our feet, 
Psal. 119. 105.  and Light unto our paths. And as the Light afforded by such Clouds, is not only wont to be attended with affrighting Thunder, and hurtful Storms, but burns, and destroys, or at least scorches, and blacks, where it passes, and oftentimes falls upon Churches, Hospitals, Colleges, and brings such frights and ruins wheresoever it comes, that 'twere a great deal better Men wanted the Light of such flashes, than that they should be exposed to such inconveniencies by them: So the insolent and irregular Wits, I am speaking of, do not only make an unwelcome Noise in the World, but do oftentimes so denigrate the Reputation of them that oppose them, and bear so little respect even to things sacred, or useful to Mankind, without sparing the Church or Seminaries of Learning, if either come in their way, that they do far more Mischiefs by their errors, or their practices, than the little Instruction they give us, is able to make amends for.  
This, if I forget not, was the substance of the Occasional Meditation, suggested to me by the Storm; but, besides that, there are in this some particulars, which are not necessary to the Meditation itself, and may be fitly enough accommodated, by way of Comparisons, to other Occasions. I remember, the same Subject (the Storm) had other Circumstances in it, fit to afford Similitudes, applicable to other Subjects, and some of them unobvious enough: For instance, 'tis not easy to find so illustrious a Comparison, to set forth, how the most contrary Qualities may proceed from the same Subjects, as that which we may be supplied with, by considering, that, from the same Clouds, we derive both Light and Darkness; and a noble Comparison of contraries, conjoined in one Subject, may be borrowed from the same Clouds, which afford us Lightning, and Rain, show, that they contain in them two of the eminentest and seldomest consistent contraries of Nature, Fire and Water. And another Comparison may be derived from the differing productions of these Clouds, to illustrate those things which do at once both much good, and much mischief, or sometimes the one, and sometimes the other: For the same Clouds both produce the Thunder, and the Lightning, and thereby blast Trees, kill Men and Beasts, fire Houses, and ruin the noblest Buildings, without sparing Churches themselves; and, on the other side, plentifully afford us those refreshing and fertilizing Showers, that correct the heat of the sultry Air, and cure the barrenness of the parched Earth. And one that is skilled in framing Comparisons out of Dissimilitudes, and exercised in the other ways of turning and winding of Similes, may easily enough find, in the Subject we have been considering, Circumstances capable of being conveniently enough accommodated to more subjects and purposes, than I have leisure now to take notice of. And since, as the being able to find the latent resemblance betwixt things seemingly unlike, make up a great part of what we are wont to call Wit; so the being able to discern the unobvious disparities of things manifestly resembling, is one of the chief things that displays the Faculty, Men call Judgement; and since both these are very much assisted by the Custom of making Reflections, wherein we must take notice of the several properties, wherein things either are alike, or disagree; Methinks it should not a little manifest the usefulness of our Meleteticks towards the improvement of Men's parts, that they not only instruct the more serious faculty of the Soul, but sharpen the more subtle.   

CHAP. VI  
IU. BUt the Practice I have all this while been recommending, does not only dispose us to Attention, in observing the things that occur to us, and accustom us to reflect on them seriously, and express them fitly, but does also, though insensibly, suggest to us Ways and Methods, whereby to make the Objects we consider informative to us.  
For by Example, Analogy, or some of those other ways which we may be invited, on another occasion, to insist on, we are, as it were, led by the hand to the discovery of divers useful Notions, especially Practical, which else we should not take any notice of. And indeed, the World is the great Book, not so much of Nature, as of the God of Nature, which we should find even crowded with instructive Lessons, if we had but the Skill, and would take the Pains, to extract and pick them out: The Creatures are the true Egyptian Hieroglyphics, that under the rude forms of Birds, and Beasts, etc. conceal the mysterious secrets of Knowledge, and of Piety. And as Chemists boast of their Elixir, that 'twill turn the ignoblest Metals into Gold; so Wisdom makes all Objects, on which it operates, enrich the Possessor with useful and precious Thoughts: And since, even the illiterate Husbandman can, with the most abject Dung itself, give a flourishing growth to the most useful Grains, to Medicinable herbs, and even to fragrant Flowers; why may not a wise Man, by the meanest Creatures, and slighted'st Object, give a considerable Improvement to the noblest Faculties of the Soul, and the most lovely Qualities of the Mind?  
But the particular Method of deriving Instruction from the Subjects we consider, will be more fit to be particularly insisted on, when we shall have more time, or some other opportunity, to treat of the manner of making Occasional Meditations, and show, how they may be fetched from Example, Analogy, Dissimilitude, Ratiocination, and other Topics, which we must not now take any further notice of.    

SECT. IV.  

CHAP. I.  
HItherto we have considered the Benefits that may be afforded by the practice of Occasional Meditations to the Intellectual Faculties. We will now proceed to the Advantages that may accrue from the same Practice to the Will and Affections. These advantages being not only the most valuable in themselves, but those upon whose account I have been engaged in the present Undertaking.  
V. The last therefore and greatest Benefit I shall take notice of, in the practice I would invite you to, is, That it awakens good thoughts, and excites good motions, in the Will and Affections. For since we have already manifested, that it is wont to suggest variety of Notions to the Meditator, and such as are usually accompanied with delight: This friendly property to Devotion, which I now ascribe to our Melecticks, is a very easy and genuine offspring of the marriage of the two others: The Beams of Knowledge, acquired by such Reflections, having in them, like those of the Sun, not only Light but Heat. And indeed it were somewhat strange, as well as sad, if a person disposed and accustomed to observe and consider, conversing with such instructive Books as those of God's Creatures and his Providence, with an intention to take out practical Lessons, should not find them. For amidst that rich variety of Objects that in differing manners proffer themselves to his consideration, and suggest to him a great diversity of Reflections, it cannot reasonably be imagined that he should not find subjects or circumstances, that are proper, either to afford him Examples to imitate, or show him the Danger, or Unhandsomeness, or Inconvenience of some thing that he should avoid, or raise his thoughts and affections Heaven-wards, or furnish him with some new practical consideration, or show him some known Truth in a varied and delightful dress, or (at least) recall some Notions his frailty makes him need to be put in mind of, or, in a word, either refresh his memory, or otherwise cherish his Devotion. Let us suppose a person, who being qualified and accustomed to reflect upon various objects that occur to him, mainly designs, in the exercise of that faculty, the warming of his Affections, and the improvement of his Piety, and we shall scarce doubt, but when he looks about him in the world, he will find it, what one of the Fathers loftily styled it, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, (a School for Rational Souls to learn the knowledge of God.) There is scarce any thing that Nature has made, or that men do or suffer, though the Theme seem never so low and slight, whence the devout Reflector cannot take an occasion of an aspiring Meditation; as in a hopeful morning the humble Lark can, from the lowest furrow in the field, take a soaring flight towards Heaven, and ascend thitherward with a melody that delights both herself and her hearers. If such a person considers how amongst such an admirable Variety, and such odd Antipathies of the numberless Creatures that compose the Universe, the constant observation of the Laws of their Nature makes them universally, and, as it were, unanimously, to conspire to make the Author of it appear wonderful in it, he cannot but be willingly possessed with such an awful admiration of the matchless wisdom of their great Disposer, as made the Psalmist cry out, upon a somewhat what like occasion, 
* So Junius and Tremelius translate the place, quam ampla sunt opera tua, O Jehova, quam ea omnia sapienter fecisti? and so the Original will bear, if the Hebrew Ma, be made applicable as well to the latter, as to the former part of the words.  How manifold are thy works, 
Ps. 104. 24.  O Lord, how wisely hast thou made them all? If he have occasion to consider the merciful Dispensations of Divine Providence to the Godly, or to take notice of the severe Inflictions of Divine Justice on the Wicked, he will find himself powerfully engaged to rely on the one, and to apprehend provoking the other. If he take notice that the World is but our Storehouse, and that multitudes of admirable Creatures seem to have had a being given them, principally for the use of undeserving Man, insomuch that many of the Beasts, and Birds, and Fishes, are but our Caters for one another, he will burst out into Mental, if not Vocal, expressions of Thankfulness and Humiliation to the Father of Mercies, for so unmerited and ill returned a Bounty, and will be apt to say with David, 
Ps. 144. 3.  What is man that thou takest knowledge of him? or the son of man that thou makest account of him? And if he compare this Munificence of God, in daily giving so many Creatures, that never violate the Laws of their Nature, nor endeavour to disappoint him of his Ends in creating them, for the necessities, nay, for the pleasures, of rebellious and unthankful Man, he will resent an ingenuous shame, and a noble disdain, That that Creature should be of all the least grateful that has received the most Benefits, and that he should of all others prove the most unruly, who alone has been endowed with Reason to rule himself withal. If in a Starry night he looks upon the Firmament, and considers how many fixed Stars there are, and how many thousand times more there might be without wanting room, the least of which Astronomers teach us to be far bigger than the whole Earth, which yet, by the probablest computation, contains above ten thousand millions of Cubick Germane Leagues, (and consequently above threescore times as many English miles of solid measure) he will find abundant cause to exclaim with David, 
Psal. 8. 3, 4.  When I consider thy Heavens, the work of thy hands, the Moon and Stars which thou hast ordained, What is man that thou shouldst be mindful of him, or the Son of man that thou visitest him?   

CHAP. II.  
ANd since our Discourse has led us to the mention of a Text, where the truly inspired Poet (who, by his omitting to speak of the Sun, seems to have composed this Psalm in the night) makes the Moon the chief subject of his Meditation, it will not perhaps be amiss, if, on this occasion, we add a few short Reflections on the same Theme, and thereby confirm what we lately noted about the differing Reflections, and Similitudes, which may be afforded by the same subject, as its several Attributes may be differingly considered.  
If then, in the first place, when our Contemplator takes notice of the greatest Brightness of the Moon, he remembers too, that 'tis when she is at the Full, that she is subject to be Eclipsed, it would put him in mind of the mutability of humane things, and that oftentimes Prosperity proves never the more secure for appearing the more full and resplendent.  
Next, our Reflector may find in the Moon, a lively Emblem of a true Minister of the Gospel. For, as the Moon communicates to the Earth, the Light, and that only, which she receives from the Sun; so the Apostles, and first Preachers of Christianity, and (in their measure) their true Successors, communicate to Mankind, the Light, which themselves have received from the bright Sun of righteousness. And the Similitude may be advanced, by adding, that as the Moon shines not on the Earth, with any other Beams, than those she derives from that fountain of Light, the Sun; so the true Preachers of the Heavenly Doctrine mingle not their own Inventions, or humane Traditions, with that pure and sincere Light of Revelation, they are employed to dispense; it being safest, and most desirable, for the Church, that Christians should receive the Bread of Life, as the Jews are recorded to have received the material Bread, 
Mat. 15. 36▪  in a passage of St. Matthew's Gospel, where 'tis said, that Christ first broke, and gave to the Disciples, the Bread, which they afterwards, from Him, distributed to the People; so that they might each of them, in a literal sense, employ that expression of St. Paul, 
1 Cor. 11. 3.  I have received of the Lord, that which I delivered unto you.  
And as though the Moon be destitute of native light, yet by virtue of that borrowed one, which she plentifully receives from the Sun, she affords more to Men than any of the Stars, which, upon the score of their vast distance from the Sun, are, by modern Naturalists, supposed to shine by their own Light, so those illiterate Fishermen, whom the Sun of Righteousness called, and made the Light of the world, did, by virtue of the copious Irradiations he vouchsafed them, diffuse far more Light to mankind, than the greatest Philosophers, that, being unassisted by Divine Revelation, had only their own native beams to shine with.  
And as oftentimes the same Subject, but variously considered, may afford both somewhat fit to be shunned, and somewhat fit to be imitated; so, in that which we suppose our Reflector now considering, he may easily discern the Emblem of an ungrateful person: For as the Moon, though she receive all the Light that ennobles her from the Sun, does yet, when she is admitted to the nearest Conjunction with him, eclipse that bright Planet, to which she owes all her splendour; so unthankful men abuse those very favours that should endear to them their Benefactors, to the prejudice of those that oblige them.  
And 'tis like that our Reflector may, by the way, take notice, That as what passes betwixt the Moon and the Sun, does thus afford him a Simile, whereby to set forth Ingratitude; so what passes betwixt the Moon and the Sea, may supply him with an example of the contrary quality, and put him in mind, that a thankful man will be true and obsequious to his Benefactor, though the person that obliged him have lost that Prosperity that before made him conspicuous, and attracted vulgar eyes, as the Sea follows the course of the Moon, not only when she shines upon it with her full Light, but when at the Change she can communicate little or no light to it.  
To the two abovementioned Attributes, upon whose account the Moon afforded a comparison for humane Prosperity, and another for Preachers of the Gospel, we will now add, That she may afford us a Similitude to set forth a liberal Person by: For as the Moon freely communicates to the Earth, the Light she receives from the Sun, so the bountiful person imparts to indigent men the Largesses he receives, from the exuberant goodness of God. And as to Intellectual Communications the Parallel will hold further, since as the Moon enjoys not the less of Light, for her imparting so much to the Earth; so in Mental Communications Liberality does not impoverish, and those excellent gifts cease not to be possessed, by being imparted. And 'tis very possible, (to add that upon the By) That after the light of the Moon has (according to what I lately noted) represented to our Contemplator the qualifications of a Preacher, it may also put him in mind of the Duty of a Hearer. For, as it were very foolish in us, and unthankful towards the Father of Lights, not to make use of the great Light we receive from the Sun, by the Moon, or not to acknowledge the Moon to be a very useful Creature, upon the score of that Light, wherewith she shines upon the Earth, though, in her, that Light be destitute of Heat; so it were unwise and ungrateful for Hearers to refuse to acknowledge, or to be guided by, the conspicuous Endowments of Learning and Eloquence, that God vouchsafes to great Scholars, though they themselves were but illustrated, not warmed, by the Beams they reflect. But therefore, as Oysters, and other Shellfish, are observed to thrive at the Increase of the Moon, though her Light be unattended with Heat, and though even when she is at Full, she wants not her spots, so devout Hearers will be careful to prosper proportionably to the Instructions they receive even from those Preachers, whose Illuminations are unaccompanied with Zeal and Charity, and who, when they shine with the greatest Lustre, are not free from their Darknesses, as to some Points, or from notorious Blemishes.  
And as the Moon may thus furnish our Contemplator with Similitudes, to set forth both a Virtue and a Vice of the Mind, so may it supply him with an Emblem of its Condition: For as the Light of the Moon is sometimes Increasing, and sometimes in the Wane, and not only is sometimes totally Eclipsed, but even when she is at the Full, is never free from dark Spots; so the mind of Man, nay, even of a Christian, is but partly enlightened, and partly in the dark, and is sometimes more, and sometimes less, Illustrated by the Beams of Heavenly Light, and Joy, and not alone now and then quite Eclipsed by disconsolate Desertions, but even when it receives the most Light, and shines the brightest, knows but in part, and is in part blemished by its native Darknesses, and Imperfections. And these Resemblances are not so appropriated to the mind of Man, but that they might easily be shown to be applicable to his condition, in point of outward Prosperity, and Adversity. And to these Resemblances other Reflections on the several Adjuncts of the Moon might be also added, together with several Examples of this nature on other Subjects, were it not that I think myself to have spent time enough already upon a Theme, that fell but incidentally under my consideration; and were it not also, that the Reflections which might here be annexed upon the Attributes of other Objects, may be more properly subjoined to what may be on another occasion presented you, by way of Illustration of some Particulars, that belong to the fourth part of the precedent Section, in which my haste, and some other reasons, made me content myself, to give some few general Hints about such Reflections, and an Intimation of the Topics whence I am wont to fetch them.   

CHAP. III.  
ANd having given you this Advertisement, en passant, we may now proceed a little further, and add, that if we suppose our Contemplator's thoughts to descend from Heaven to Earth, the far greater multitude and variety of Objects, they will meet with here below, will suggest to them much more numerous Reflections. But because so spacious a Field for Meditation as the whole Earth, would afford us too vast a Theme to be attempted on this occasion, we will confine our Contemplator to his Garden, or rather to any one of the Trees of it, and take notice, not of all the Meditations he might fetch thence, but only of four or five of the considerablest of those, that the viewing it, may, as he walks by at several times, supply him with.  
In then, in the Spring of the Year, our Reflector see the Gardener pruning a Fruit-tree, we may suppose him invited by that Object, to reason thus within himself: Though one that were a Stranger to the Art of Gardening, would think, that that Man is an Enemy to this Tree, and goes about to destroy it, since he falls upon and wounds it, with a sharp Iron, and strikes off several of its Youthful parts, as if he meant to cut it in pieces; yet, he that knows, that the Gardener's arm is not set on work by Anger, but by Skill, will not conclude that he hates the Tree he thus wounds, but that he has a mind to have it Fruitful, and judges these harsh means the fittest to produce that desirable Effect. And thus, whatever a Man, unacquainted with the ways and designs of Providence, may surmise, when he sees the Church not only exposed to the common Afflictions of humane Societies, (for that is but like our Trees being exposed to be weatherbeaten by Winds, and Rain) but distressed by such Persecutions, as seem to be Divine Inflictions, that invite Men to say of the Body, what the Prophet foretell should be said of the Head, 
Isaiah 53. 4.  We esteemed him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. Whatever, I say, a carnal, or a moral, Man would be apt to imagine, upon sight of the Church's distresses; the knowing Christian will not from thence infer, that God hates Her, or that he has abandoned Her, since 'tis He, that loved his Church so well, as to give Himself for it, who declares, that as many as He loves, He rebukes, and chastens. And this is so fitly applicable also to particular Believers, 
John 15. 2.  that the Divine Son of the great 
* That is, Cultivator of the Ground.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 does not only give us cause to think, that Afflictions do not suppose God's Hate, but to hope that they may not always suppose Man's Gild, but sometimes rather aim at his Improvement; since they are the memorable words of our Saviour, speaking of his Father, 
John 15. 2.  Every branch in me, that beareth not Fruit, he taketh away, and every Branch that beareth Fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more Fruit. And it may somewhat illustrate the Similitude, to add, that the Husbandman uses only to prune the Trees of his Garden, not those that grow wild in his Woods: But though he oftener wound these, yet he wounds the other more fatally, employing but the pruning Hook to pair off the superfluous twigs, or, at most, Branches, of the one, whilst he lays the Axe to the root of the other, to fell the Tree itself.  
But these are not the only Thoughts, which the pruning of a Fruit-tree may suggest to our Reflector: For if he considers, That by cutting off several of the parts of the Tree, and by Nailing many of the rest to the Wall, the Gardener does not only secure the Tree from being blown down, or torn, by the rudeneness of boisterous Winds, but makes it look well shaped: So the Divine Husbandman, (as we have lately seen God styled in the Scripture) by the wise, and seasonable, though seemingly rigorous, and usually unwelcome, Culture, he employs upon those Children of his whom he afflicts, does not only protect them from several dangers, whereto, without those harsh restraints, they would be exposed; but as he makes them amends in point of Safety, for what he denies them in point of Liberty, so he adorns them by Wounding them. His kind and skilful strokes adding as much to the Beauty of a Christian's Mind, as they cut away from the Superfluities of his Fortune: For the pressures of Affliction do give so much smoothness and gloss to the Soul that bears them patiently, and resign'dly, that the Heathen Moralist ventured to say, That if there were any Spectacle here below noble enough, and worthy to entertain the Eyes of God, it was that of a Good Man, generously contending with ill Fortune. And the Hyperbole (though after this manner somewhat loftily expressed) will appear the less strange to him that considers, That Job had not only his Patience, when it had been tried to the uttermost, crowned with a Fortune double to that which had been the fairest in the East; but before his constancy was tried near so far, received that much higher recompense of an Honour never vouchsafed to Mortals until then, when God himself did not only approve, but (if I may so speak with reverence) make his boast of, a Man. Hast thou considered (says he to Man's great Enemy) my Servant Job, 
Job 2. 3.  that there is none like him in the Earth, a perfect, and an upright Man, one that feareth God, and escheweth Evil? and still he holdeth fast his Integrity, although thou moved'st me against him to destroy him without cause. Sure one may call him more than happy Job, since, if, as David tells us, the Man is happy whose sins God is pleased to cover; 
Psal. 32. 1.  what may that Man be accounted, whose Graces he vouchsafes to proclaim?   

CHAP. IU.  
ANd as the consideration of the pruning of Trees, under the Notion of that which wounds them, may afford our Contemplator the Reflections already pointed at; so the considering of the same Action, under another Notion, may lead him to Reflections of another Nature: For if he observes, that, in certain cases, Gardeners oftentimes do not only prune away all the Suckers, and many of the Luxuriant sprigs, but cut off some of the Branches themselves, provided they spare the Master boughs; and yet these Amputations, though they take much from the Tree, are designed to add to the Fruit, as accordingly they are wont to do: If, I say, our Reflector takes notice of this, it may easily supply him with an illustration of what he may have observed among some Men, who, by Afflictions, even in point of Fortune, are brought to be far more charitable than they would have been, if their peace and plenty had continued unimpaired. As, besides that Saint Paul, speaking of the Macedonian Churches, 
2 Cor. 8. 2.  gives them this Character, That in a great trial of Affliction, the abundance of their Joy, and their deep Poverty, abounded unto the Riches of their Liberality; We have in Zacheus a memorable Instance to our present purpose, since, after his Repentance had, 
Luk. 19  by his own consent, cut off from his Estate more than all that Slander, Oppression, and other unjust ways of Getting, (which used to bring in but too great a part of a Publicans) had added to it; he gave away more, out of the Remainder of his Estate, than every liberal Man would have done out of the Whole. His Wealth, like a skilfully pruned Tree bore the more Fruit to Piety; for having had some parts of it cut away, he grew Rich (in good works) by being despoiled, and his Charity increased as much as his Fortune was lessened.  
If, towards the end of the Spring, our Reflector see the Ground under his Tree strewed with the Blossoms, that Time and Winds may have cast down thence, 'tis like it would furnish him with this consideration, That, as though the Blossoms are in themselves great Ornaments to a Tree, and oftentimes both useful and pleasant things, yet to be seasonably deprived of them, is not a mischief to the Tree that loses them; since, till the Blossoms are gone, the Fruit, which is a better and more lasting thing, and more principally intended by Nature, cannot be had: So it will not always follow, that because certain things are in their kind desirable, and therefore may be reckoned among Goods, the loss or depravation of them must necessarily be an Evil. And so, though a fair and healthy Body may be looked upon as a Blessing, yet it will not follow, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  that a Death (as the Scripture speaks) either in or for the Lord, because it throws this flourishing Body to the Ground, 
Revel. 14. 13.  and makes it rot there, must needs be a deplorable Evil; since, as the Blossoms falling off, is, according to the course of Nature, necessarily praevious to the formation, or at least the perfection, of the Fruit: So the being deprived of this Life, is, according to God's Ordination, a necessary Antecedent to our being enriched with those more solid and durable blessings of perfect Virtue and Happiness.  
And if, whilst our Contemplator's Tree is adorned with Leaves, as well as Blossoms, (as we often see several of the former come before all the latter are gone) he chance to take notice how busy the Bees are in sucking these, whilst they leave the others untouched, he may peradventure make this, or some such other Reflection on it; That, though the Leaves be not only Ornaments of a Tree, but Productions, often useful to shade and shelter the Fruit, and are of a more solid Texture, and a more durable Nature than the Blossoms, which seem to be of a slighter make, and rather gaudy and delightful than lasting; yet 'tis not about the Leaves, but the Blossoms, that the industrious Bee assiduously employs her time, as sucking from those gaudy productions of the Tree, store of that Honey which the Leaves would not afford her.  
Thus, though the Books written about Dogmatical and Controversial points in Divinity, may be in their kind valuable and useful productions of skill in Theology, and may seem more strong and substantial Composures, and likely to retain their Reputations longer, than Books of Devotion; yet 'tis of these, rather than those, that the devout Christian will be a solicitous Peruser; since 'tis not from barren, though solid Assertions or Disputes, but from florid and pathetical Books of Devotion, which first allure the Reader, and then affect him, that the devout Soul extracts her Honey, I mean those Celestial pleasures that result from, as well as maintain, a free communion with God, which does at once both exercise her Devotion, and recompense it, and afford her, as Flowers do the Bee, an Aliment equally Nutritive and Delicious.  
And he may somewhat illustrate, as well as continue, the Allusion further, by considering, That Silkworms that live upon Leaves, and Bees that feed on Flowers and Blossoms, do indeed both of them thrive upon their respective Aliments, and are thereby enabled to present Men with useful productions, but with this difference; That the subtle threads of Silkworms serve principally to clothe others, whereas the Honey that is elaborated by the Bee, does not only supply others with a healing and cleansing Medicine in some Distempers, but affords a great deal of pleasure to the Bee herself: For thus, though as well the diligent Studiers of Speculative and Polemical Divinity, as the careful Perusers of Books of Devotion, may be advantaged by what they Study, yet this difference may be observed betwixt them, that the former may, by the Discourses they read, be assisted to write others of the like Nature, whereby their Readers may be enabled to talk with more Acuteness, and Applause, but the latter may not only be assisted by making such Composures as they assiduously converse with, to contribute to the cleansing of Men's Consciences from Dead works, and as well pacific the troubles of their Minds, as heal the Wounds which Schism or Scandal may have given to the Church; but do often, in the first place, feel themselves all the Joys, and Advantages, they would procure to others, and they happily find Pious Reflections, Devout Soliloquies, Ardent Ejaculations, and other Mental Entertainments of a Religious Soul, to be of a Nature not only so sweet, but so improving, and so advantageous, that whilst many other laudable Employments recommend us to the Students of Theology, these more especially recommend us to the Author of it, and endear us to God himself.  
If when our Fruit-tree has changed its white Livery for a Green, our Considerer chance to take notice how thick 'tis set with Leaves, of which it had not one some Months before, it may possibly put him in mind of the Instability of their condition, that are undeservedly envied for a Numerous train of such seeming Friends, and gaudy Attendants, as are so to the Fortune, rather than the Person: For, as in the Sun-shiny months of Summer, when the fair weather would keep the Tree warm enough without the help of Leaves, it is wont to be covered with those Verdant Ornaments, but loses them all in Winter, when it needs their shelter from the Rigours of that Cold season: So those, that during the Sunshine of prosperity, are beset with seeming Friends, of which they had no need, find themselves left naked, and forsaken of them all, when Adversity would make their Company of some Advantage. If our Contemplator chance to observe how his Tree flourishes with verdant Leaves, and gaudy Blossoms, at that Season of the Year, when it is providing to bring forth Fruit, it may put him in mind of the pleas'dness and alacrity, with which a Charitable person should set himself to the doing of good, and mind him, That as the God of Nature loves a cheerful Giver, so the temper of a liberal Person is pointed out by Nature herself, in a Tree, which seems to triumph in all the Ornaments it can put on, when it is about to exhaust the greatest part of its own stock of Sap to produce Fruits which only others are to eat.  
If he take notice of the order wherein 'tis usual for the Leaves and Blossoms to precede the Fruit, it may possibly invite him to look with a more favourable Eye upon the green and immature Essays of early Writers, if they discover, that the Author aims at good things, though he does not yet perform great ones: For, however these Youthful productions of the Pen are commonly rather pleasing and florid, than otherwise considerable, yet if they be good for their Season, and in their Kind, though that kind itself be not of the usefullest, they may deserve pardon, and perhaps encouragement; since, though they be not yet solid, they may promise something that will be so; and even the best Trees present us their Blossoms, before they give us their Fruit.  
If the same Contemplator happens to see young people first shake the Tree in vain, and then climb it to gather unripe Fruit, it may afford him a representation of Men's over-eager and untimely persuits of several desirable things, and especially of Honour: For, as green Fruit, though of a good Kind, will not easily be shaken down by them that would gather it, but reduces them either to climb the Tree, or forcibly strike it off, which commonly bruises, and disfigures what it procures; and as the Fruit, when thus obtained, is but sour, and unwholesome, being neither sweetened nor concocted by Maturity, so that it usually both sets the Teeth on edge, and breeds Sickness in the Body, whereas, if the same Fruit were let alone till it were fully Ripe, and in Season, it would both readily drop into the Eater's mouth, and prove delicious, and more wholesome Food: So, when we greedily pursue after Honour, and Pleasure, of which this Life is not the proper Season, we not only meet with Difficulties in acquiring them, but find not, in possessing them, either that Satisfaction, or that Advantage, that the Eagerness of our unruly Appetites promises us; whereas, if we would stay contentedly till God's time be come, (which is always the best, and fittest) we should not steal, or force, but receive unfading Honours, and uncloying Delights, by being presented with Incorruptible Crowns of Glory, 
1 Pet. 5. 4.  by him, with whom there is fullness of Joy, and at whose right hand (the Station designed for those that overcome the World's Allurements, 
Psal. 16. 11.  and their own Impatience) there are Pleasures for evermore; that is, Eternal ones.  
Lastly, if towards the end of Summer, or of Autumn, our Reflector, coming to visit his Instructive Tree, find it present him store of Fruit, and perhaps observes it to be grown taller since the last Winter, each Bough will afford him a lively Emblem of a true Believer. For, as the loaded Branch makes use of the moisture it attracts from the dirty ground, to recede as much as it can from the Earth, and spends its sap in shooting up towards Heaven, and bearing Fruit for Men: so the devout Christian improves the Blessings he receives of this inferior World, to elevate his mind above it: And the use that he makes of earthly Goods, and Advantages, is to raise his grateful Soul nearer to God, and dispense them by works of Charity to men.   

CHAP. V.  
THese (Sophronia) are some, and but some, of the Thoughts, which the Occasional Consideration of a Fruit-tree might suggest to a Considering Person. And if we should lead our Reflector from the Garden to the Woods, or to the River side, or into the Fields, or to the Street, or to a Library, or to the Exchange, or, in a word, to I know not how many other places I could name, I have some reason to think, that each of them would supply him with variety of Occasional Meditations. Wherefore, since the want of Themes will not, 'tis fit that somewhat else should, place Bounds to this Discourse. And since, by finding, that I myself begin to be weary of writing, I have too much cause to fear that you are quite tired with reading, I think it high time to hasten to a Conclusion: Only, before I make one, I must do our Meleteticks the right to advertise you, that you would do them wrong if you should imagine, that in the passed Discourse I have either carefully enumerated, or fully displayed, the Advantages, which a devout and ingenious Contemplator may derive from the Exercise of the ways of Thinking I have been treating of. For, though I have in the past Discourse, especially those parts of it that are contained in the 3d d precedent, and in this present 4th Section, said enough to recommend the Subject to any that is not much indisposed to be prevailed with; yet I will not deny, but that, even in those two Sections, I have left much unsaid.  
For, besides the several Advantages and ways of making Occasional Meditations already pointed at, there are other accounts upon which the practice I would persuade may both benefit a pious Soul, and be made use of by an ingenious one. For the respects one thing may have to another are so numberless, and the mind of a rational man, versed in Meditations, may compound and disjoin Notions so many ways, and may make such Inferences from them, and such Applications of them, that it frequently happens, that besides the Reflection, suggested by that which gave the first Rise to his Meditations, he lights upon Conceits differing enough from them, and perhaps better than they: As when Hounds, hunting a Hare, meet in their way with a Stag. For, though Philosophers seem to have justly enough rejected the Opinion, attributed to Plato, That all Knowledge is but Reminiscence, yet certainly the Mind of a Man well furnished with variety of Notions, is, by the Analogy or Contrariety of Things and Notions, in reference to each other, so easily and readily excited to lay them together, and discourse upon them, that he is oftentimes by any sleight occasion helped to light (and that with a strange and almost surprising facility) upon things that he would else have scarce taken the least notice of. When the Mind is once set on work, though the Occasion administered the first Thoughts, yet those thoughts themselves, may, as well as the Object that excited them, become the Themes of further Meditation: and the Connection of Thoughts within the Mind, may be, and frequently is, so latent, and so strange, that the Meditator will oftentimes admire to see how far the Notions he is at length lead to, are removed from those which the first Rise of his Meditation suggested. And by these Incidental Excursions he may sometimes be as much delighted and surprised, 
Judges 14. 8.  as Samson was, when going aside to look upon the Carcase of a Lion, he met with a Stock of Honey.  
But I can add one thing towards the inducing you to exercise yourself in the way of Thinking, we have all this while been speaking of, which though I had almost forgot to take notice of, it will, I doubt not, seem important to Sophronia, to whom it need not be a discouragement from aiming at one of the noblest uses of Occasional Reflections, that it supposes not a bare acquaintance with them, but springs from an entire and (if I may so speak) intimate familiarity with our Meleteticks. For this use of Occasional Meditations, though it do but gradually differ from some of those that have been already mentioned, will perhaps by the devout (and consequently by Sophronia) be esteemed the highest Advantage that this way of Thinking can confer; and it is, That the custom of making Occasional Reflections may insensibly, and by unperceived degrees, work the Soul to a certain frame, or temper, which may not improperly be called Heavenly Mindedness, whereby she acquires an aptitude and disposition to make pious Reflections upon almost every Occurrence, and oftentimes without particularly designing it. But as this privilege will, as I was intimating, scarce fall to the share of any but those that, by long or frequent Exercise, have so accustomed their minds to reflect upon what they see, that they continue that practice, as it were, of their own accord; so when once, by such a constant kindness and hospitableness to such thoughts, that they will, as it were, come to the mind without calling, and make themselves its guests, without particular Invitations, the Soul has attained that desirable Frame we lately called Heavenly mindedness, which is a Disposition and a Readiness to make Spiritual uses of Earthly things, both the Advantage and the Delight of that frame of heart cannot but be extraordinary. It must surely afford a great deal of satisfaction to an Ingenious and Devout person, to be able to make the world both his Library and his Oratory. And which way soever he turns his eyes (not only upon unobvious things, but even upon the most familiar ones) to behold something that instructs, or that delights him. And to find that almost every object that presents itself to his notice, presents also good Thoughts to his Mind, to be gathered with as much Innocency and Pleasure, and with as little prejudice to the things that afford them, as Honey is gathered by the industrious Bee from the differing Flowers she meets with in her way. Certainly, if we would carefully lay hold on, and duly manage, this help, it would prove a powerful Remedy to prevent or cure much of that Dulness and Drousiness, that do so frequently smother or blemish our Devotion. There would scarce any thing pass us, out of which we would not strike some spark or other of that Heavenly Fire, or that would not contribute something, either to kindle it, or to feed it, or to revive it. If but half the precious time we impertinently trifle, or squander away, upon Employments that will be sure to cost us either Tears or Blushes, were carefully laid out in the cultivating of this kind of Thoughts, it might often save our Ministers the labour of insisting so long upon the Uses of their Doctrines, when the whole World would be a Pulpit, every Creature turn a Preacher, and almost every Accident suggest an Use of Instruction, Reproof, or Exhortation. No Burial but would toll a Passing-bell to put us in mind of our Mortality: No Feast but would make us aspire to the Marriage-feast of the Lamb: No Cross but would add to our Desires to be dissolved and to be with Christ: No Mercy but would be a fresh Engagement unto Obedience to so good a Master as the Author of it: No Happiness of others, but would prove an Encouragement to serve him that can give That, and much greater: No Misery of others, but would awake and heighten our Gratitude, that we are privileged from It: No Sin in our Neighbours, that would not dissuade us from what we see looked so unhandsomely in others: Nor any Virtue of theirs, but would excite our Emulation, and spur us on to imitate or surpass It. In a word, when the devout Soul is come to make that true use of the Creatures, as to look upon them as men do upon water, that the Sun gilds with his Beams, that is, not so much for itself as for the Reflective virtue it has to represent a more glorious Object; and when she has, by long practice, accustomed herself to spiritualise all the Objects and Accidents that occur to her, I see not why that practice may not be one of the most effectual means for making good that magnificent Assertion of the Apostle, That all things work together for good to them that love God. 
Rom. 8. 28.  A devout Occasional Meditation, from how low a Theme soever it takes its Rise, being like Jacob's Ladder, whereof though the foot leaned on the Earth, 
Gen. 28. 12.  the top reached up to Heaven.     


OCCASIONAL REFLECTIONS.  
The I. SECTION.  

REFLECTION I.  
Upon his manner of giving Meat to his Dog.  
IGnorantly thankful Creature, thou beg'st in such a way, that by what would appear an antedated Gratitude, if it were not a designless Action, the manner of thy Petitioning, beforehand rewards the Grant of thy Request; thy Addresses and Recompense being so made and ordered, that the Meat I cast thee may very well feed Religion in me. For, but observe this Dog, I hold him out Meat, and my inviting Voice loudly encourages and invites him to take it: 'Tis held indeed higher than he can Leap; and yet, if he Leap not at it, I do not give it him; but if he do, I let it fall half way into his Mouth. Not unresemblingly deals God with us; He shows and holds forth to us (the Soul's true Aliment) Eternal Glory, and his most Gracious Word summons and animates us to attempt it. Alas! it is far above the reach of our Endeavours, and our Deserts, and yet if we aspire not to it, and strive not for it, in vain do we expect it; but if we faithfully do what in us lies, and our Endeavours strain themselves to their utmost, God mercifully allows the Will for the Effect, measures our performances by what they aimed at, and favourably accepting what we can do, for what we should do, He supplies the imperfections of our faint, but yet aspiring Attempts, by stooping Condescensions; and what our Endeavours want of reaching up to, his Grace and Acceptation brings down. Piety is the condition, though not the price, of Heaven; and (like the Wedding Garment in the Parable) though it give us not a Right to the Beatific Feast, is, yet, that without which none shall be admitted as a duly qualified Guest: For though we cannot reach Heaven by our good Works, we shall not obtain it without them.   

REFLECTION. II.  
Upon his distilling Spirit of Roses in a Limbick.  
ONe that knew how well I love the scent of Roses, and were ignorant of the Uses of this way of Distillation, would, questionless, think me very ill advised, thus hastily to deprive myself of the Flowers I most love, and employ Art to make them wither sooner than Nature would condemn then to do; but those that know, both the fading condition of Flowers, (which, unimproved by Art, delight but whilst they are, what they cannot long be, fresh) and the exalting Efficacy of this kind of Distillation, will think this Artificial way, that Chemists take, of spoiling them, is an effect as well of their Providence as their Skill: For that pleasing and sprightly scent, that makes the Rose so welcome to us, is as short-lived and perishing, as the Flower, that harbours it, is fading; and though my Limbick should not, yet a few days inevitably would, make all these Roses wither. But by this way of ordering my Roses, though I cannot preserve them, I can preserve that Spirituous and Ethereal part of them, for whose sake it is, that I so much prize and cherish this sort of Flowers; which, by this means, I preserve, not indeed in the fading Body, but in the nobler and abstracted Quintessence; which purer and lastinger Portion of them, will be more highly fragrant than ordinary Roses are wont to be, even whilst they are fresh, in that Season, when those Flowers, that have not been thus early and purposely destroyed, will, according to the course of Nature, whereto they are left, whither and putrify.  
Thus he that sees a charitable Person, liberally part with that Money, which others are so fond of, if he be a stranger to the Operations of Faith, and the Promises of the Gospel, he will be apt to mistake the Christian's Liberality for Folly, or Profusion, and to think that he is fallen out with his Money: But he that remembers how clear a Prospect, and how absolute a Disposal of the future, the Scripture of Truth (to use an Angel's expression) ascribes to him, that bid his Disciples make themselves Friends with the uncertain (or unfaithful) Mammon, (for so the use I sometimes meet with of the Greek word, together with the Context, invites me to render it) That when we fail, they may receive us into everlasting Habitations; and he that shall likewise consider, not only the transitory Nature of Worldly Possessions, (from which their Perishing, or ours, will be sure e'er long to Divorce us) but the inestimable Advantage, with which we shall receive in Heaven whatever we employ in pious Uses here on Earth, will conclude this way of parting with our Wealth, the surest and gainfullest way of preserving it; since the Christian, by parting but with what (however) he could not long keep, shall, through God's munificent Goodness, obtain a much more valuable Treasure, that he shall never lose: So that thus to sacrifice Wealth to Charity, is not an early loss of it, but the right way of securing it; for by this gainful way, when we shall, in another World, be past the possibility of possessing our Riches in Kind, such an Employment of them may help us to enjoy them, though not in the capacity of Riches, yet in that noble capacity of Goods, under which Notion alone they are desirable; and thus laid up, they may there procure us, what they could never here afford us, Happiness.   

REFLECTION III.  
Upon his being in great Danger wand'ring, on Mendip Hills, among covered Lead Mines that he knew not of.  
HOw have I travelled all this while upon the Brink of the Grave! I thought only to be out of my Way, but little dreamed to be so near the end of all my Journeys, in that of my Life; by Traversing to and fro amongst those deep and covered Pits, upon any one of which if my Horse had but chanced to stumble, (and the very Mine-men I at length met with, think it a kind of Miracle he did not) I had been Killed and Buried at once, and my Fate had been for ever as much concealed from my Friends as my Body: And all this escape a Work so totally of God's Goodness, that I did not so much as know my Danger till I was passed it; so that it seemed, sent, but to give me occasion of rejoicing in my Deliverance. How vast a Debt of Gratitude then do I owe to God? and how extremely do I fall short of acquitting myself of it? since, besides, that I make him but very unsuitable Returns for the Blessings I know I have received, I receive from him signal Blessings, that I do not so much as know of, and which consequently I am very unlike particularly to acknowledge. But this gracious Rescue, from so great and unexpected a Hazard, shall, I hope, teach me henceforth to beware, both of security, since I often fall into Dangers that I know not, and of Distrusts of God's Providence, since I have found it so watchful to deliver me from those that I feared not.   

REFLECTION IU.  
His Horse stumbling in a very fair way.  
HEre is a patch of way, to which any less smooth than a Bowling-green were rugged, and in which it seems not only so unlikely, but so difficult, for a Horse to trip, that nothing could have made me believe a Horse could have stumbled here, but that mine has dangerously done so. This Jade has this very Evening carried me safely through ways, where stumbles were so much to be expected, that they were to have been forgiven; and now in a place so smooth, that sure he could not falter in it, only out of Curiosity and Trial, he falls under me so Lubberly, that I as much admired my Escape as Danger: But 'tis too usual with us, unfaultringly to traverse Adversities rough ways, and stumble in Prosperities smoothest paths. The Observation is almost as Old as Prosperity, That Fortune ruins more Persons whilst she Embraces them, than whilst she would Crush them: But though the Observation be very common, it is not more so, than 'tis to see even those that make it, add to the instances that justify it. I have seldom yet been so fortunate as to be obnoxious to that less frequently pitied than disarming Danger: Fortune has seldom yet vouchsafed to turn Siren to pervert me; and she has hitherto given me much more Exercise for my Constancy than for my Moderation. I think too, that without slandering myself, I may confess, that I have sometimes wished myself in the Lists with that bewitching Enemy, Prosperity; and increased the Number of those many, who never think so fair an Adversary formidable till they find themselves Vanquished by her: But upon second Thoughts, I judge it better, to leave the choice of my Antagonist to him, who not only best knows my Strength, but gives it me; especially, when I consider, that as we are all of us naturally such Stumblers, that (as Solomon speaks in somewhat another sense) even the just Man falls seven times a Day, Pro. 24. 16. so it is observed in Stumblers, that they are most so in fair way; into which, if Providence lead my steps, I shall think it seasonable to pray, and lead us not into Temptation; and shall not think it unseasonable to remember, That Ice is at once the smoothest and the slipperest of ways, and that (the Jadishness of our Natures well considered) there is no way wherein we ought to Travel with more heed, than that whose treacherous Evenness would divert us from taking heed to our way.   

REFLECTION V.  
Upon two very miserable Beggars, begging together by the Highway.  
BEhold this fore-most Wretch, whose strange Deformity and ghastly Sores equally exact our Pity and our Horror; he seems so fit an Object for Compassion, that not to exercise it towards him can scarce proceed from any other Cause than the not having any at all: The sadness of his Condition is augmented by his want of Eyes to see it; and his Misery is such, that it calls for an increase of Pity, by his being so Distracted, as to desire a longer Life, or rather longer Death: He sues more movingly to the Eye than to the Ear; and does Petition much less by what he says, than what he is: Each several Member of his tortured Body is a new Motive to Compassion, and every Part of it so loudly pleads for Pity, that (as of Scolds) it may (in another sense) be said of him, that he is all Tongue. But yet this other Beggar thinks not his Condition the less deplorable for his Companions being the more so: He finds in the Diseases of his Fellow as little Consolation, as Cure; nor does he at all think himself supplied with a deficient hand, because the other wants one. And therefore, he is as importunate for Relief, as if all Miseries were not only heaped on him, but confined to him: His fellows Burden lightens not his Load; and if Fortune never had persecuted any other, he could not more deplore nor resent her Persecutions; so that, if we should judge of their Miseries rather by the Ear than by the Eye, this latter's sadder Complaints would move us to decree him the Advantage in point of Wretchedness.  
Translate now (O my Soul) all this unto Spirituals; and as we measure the straightness of Lines, not by a Ramms Horn, but a Ruler; so be not thou so Rash, as to infer thy Health from others more forlorn and desperate Diseases: Let not the greater difficulty of another's Cure, lessen the solicitousness of thy Care for thine, nor make thee the less earnest in the Imploring and Labouring for Relief. In so depraved an Age as Ours, one may (and perhaps in vain too) search Hell to find wickeder Men than are to be, but too frequently, met with upon Earth: He will scarce be innocent, that will think himself so as long as he finds a Man more culpable than he; and he shall scarce ever judge himself Guilty, whom the sight of a Guiltier will absolve: Nor will that Man (till 'tis perhaps too late) be apt to attempt an Escape from the Pollutions of the World, that stays till he can see none more inextricably entangled in them than himself. Do not therefore, O my Soul, content thyself with that poor comparative Innocence that in Heaven (which it will never bring thee too) has no place, by reason of the absence of all vicious Persons; and in Hell itself (which it secures not from) can afford only the ill Natured consolation of not being altogether as Miserable as the wretchedest Person in that place of Torment.   

REFLECTION VI.  
Sitting at ease in a Coach that went very fast.  
AS fast as this Coach goes, I sit in it so much at Ease, that whilst its rapid Motion makes others suspect that I am running for a Wager, this lazy Posture, and this soft Seat, do almost as much invite me to Rest, as if I were A-bed. The hasty Wheels strike fire out of the Flints they happen to run over, and yet this selfsame swiftness of these Wheels, which, were I under them, would make them Crush my Bones themselves into Splinters, if not into a Jelly, now I am seated over them, and above their reach, serves but to carry me the faster towards my Journey's end. Just so it is with outward Accidents, and Conditions, whose restless Vicissitudes but too justly and too fitly resemble them to Wheels: When they meet with a Spirit that lies prostrate on the Ground, and falls Grovelling beneath them, they disorder and oppress it: But he, whose high Reason, and exalted Piety, has, by a noble and steady Contempt of them, placed him above them, may enjoy a happy and a settled Quiet, in spite of all these busy Agitations, and be so far from resenting any prejudicial discomposure from these inferior Revolutions, that all those changes, that are taken for the Giddy turns of Fortune's Wheel, shall serve to approach him the faster to the blessed Mansion he would arrive at.   

REFLECTION VII.  
Upon the Sight of a Windmill standing still.  Genorio, Eusebius, Lindamor. Gen. 
YOur Eyes, Gentlemen, have been so long fixed upon this Windmill, that in spite of the Barrenness of the Subject, I cannot but suspect it may have afforded one, or each of you▪ an Occasional Meditation.  Euseb. 
To justify your Conjecture, Genorio, I will confess to you, That I was considering with myself, that if one, who knew not the Miller's Trade, and Design, should look upon this Structure, he would think the Owner worthy of so incommodious a Mansion, if not of a Room in Bedlam; for we see he has chose to erect this Fabric in a Solitary place, and upon the cold and bleak top of a swelling Ground, where nothing shelters it from the Violence of a Wind, whilst its high Situation exposes it to the successive Violences of them all: But he that is acquainted with the Exigencies of the Miller's Design, and Trade, will think he has made a very proper choice, in seating himself in a place where no Wind can blow, that he shall not be able to make an Advantage of. And having considered this, Genorio, my Thoughts, when you interrupted them, were making this Application of it, That we ought not to be too forward to censure Men, otherwise Virtuous, and Discreet, for engaging themselves upon some accounts to troublesome and unsettling Employments; for if th' end be not mischosen, the means are to be estimated by their tendency thereunto; and though a calmer condition of Life, might be in itself more desirable, yet when a more exposed one, can make him that is qualified for such Employments more serviceable in his Generation, this may, upon that account, be more Eligible than the other, since, as it exposes him to more hardships, so, in those very hardships, it affords him more Opportunities of prosecuting his Aims, so that his Station is recommended to him by those very Circumstances that make other Men dislike it.  Gen. 
But may not I also know what Thoughts this worthy Theme suggested to Lindamor?  Lind. 
I was, Genorio, taking notice, that this whole Fabric is indeed but a large Engine, where almost every thing, as well as the Sails and the Wheels, is framed and fitted for the Grinding of Corn: But, though this whole Structure be Artificially enough contrived, yet it can now do nothing in order to its end, for want of such a light and Airy thing as a breath of Wind, to put all this into Motion; And, Genorio, this Windmill, thus considered, brought into my Mind the condition of a great Lord, that you and I not long since Visited, and who is far from being the only Person to whom the Reflection may be applicable; for one that not knowing his Humour, and his Aims, should see how great a Provision his plentiful Fortune, and his Skill to manage it, have laid together, of those things which are wont to be thought the chiefest Instruments (and perchance the chief Parts) of Happiness, would be apt to envy his Condition, as discerning nothing that is wanting to it. But alas! the Man expects and covets Esteem, and Reputation; and though Fame have these Resemblances to the Wind, that 'tis an Airy and Unsolid thing, which we must receive from others, and which we are not only unable to procure for ourselves, but know not how long we shall keep it when we have it, yet the want of this alone makes all the rest utterly insufficient for his satisfaction. Thus the not so Great, as Ambitious Alexander, after all the Blood he had spilt in Conquering the World, is said to have shed Tears, that he had Conquered but one, when a Philosopher told him there were more. And all the Favours that the greatest Potentate upon Earth, could heap upon proud Haman, were, by his own Confession, unable to make him think himself happy, as long as he could not neglect a Captives neglect of him; all his Greatness did him no good, if but one Man had the Courage not to Bow to it; and an unsatisfied Appetite of Revenge, quite spoilt the Relish of the great Monarch's Favours, and the fair Hester's Banquets. Nor do I doubt, Genorio, that we often marvel, if not repine, at Providence upon a great Mistake; for by refusing to be God's Servants, Men usually become▪ so to their own unruly Passions, and Affections. And therefore, we often very causelessly Envy the Great and Rich, as if they were as happy as the Advantages vouchsafed them, would make a wise and good Man; whereas perhaps the Man courts a Reputation, that is not to be acquired by what Men have, but by what they are, and do; or else he is in love with a Lady that loves not him, or loves another better: And the Coyness of a Mistress, the greater Title of a Neighbour, or some such trifling accident, that another would either not be subject to, or not be much concerned for, will keep him from Enjoying any of those very things, for which Bystanders Envy him: So just it is, that in Estimating a Man's condition, we should not only consider what Possessions he has, but what Desires.   

REFLECTION VIII.  
Upon his Paring of a rare Summer Apple.  
HOw prettily has curious Nature painted this gaudy Fruit? Here is a green that Emeralds cannot, and Flora's self might boast: And Pomona seems to have affected, in the fresh and lively Vermilion that adorns this smooth Rind, an Emulation at Rubies themselves, and to have aimed at manifesting, That she can give her Vegetable productions, as Lovely, and Orient, though not as lasting, Colours as those that make Jewels precious Stones; and if, upon the hearing the Praises this Scarlet deserves▪ her Blushes ennoble her own Cheeks with so Vivid a Colour▪ perhaps such a Livery of her Modesty might justify her Pride. In a word, such pure and tempting Green and Red die this same polished Skin, that our Vulgar boldness must be no longer questioned, for rendering that Fruit an Apple, that inveagled our first Parents: But though these winning Dyes delight me strangely, they are Food for my Eye alone, and not my Stomach; I have no Palate for Colours, and to relish this Fruit well, and know whether it performs to the Taste what it promises to the Sight, and justify that Platonic definition which styles Beauty the Lustre and Flower of Goodness; all this Gay outside is cut and thrown away, and passes but for Parings. Thus in Opinions, though I look with Pleasure on that neat fashionable Dress, that smother Pens so finely clothe them with, and though I be delighted with the pretty and spruce Expressions, that Wit and Eloquence are wont to trick them up with; yet when I mean to examine their true Relish, that, upon liking, I may make them mine, I still strip and divest them of all those flattering Ornaments (or cheating Disguises rather) which so often conceal or misrepresent their true and genuine Nature, and (before e'er I swallow them) after they have been admitted by the more delusible faculty we call Fancy, I make them pass the severer scrutiny of Reason.   

REFLECTION IX.  
Upon his Coaches being stopped in a narrow Lane.  
HEre, for aught I can guests, my stay is like to be long enough, to afford me the leisure of a Reflection on it: For I have found already, in this narrow Lane, a very large Scene to exercise my Patience in; and this Churlish Dray-man seems resolved to be as tedious to me, as Ludgate-hill is to his Horse, when his Cart is overloaden. They that are going on Foot to the same place this Coach should carry me to, find not their Passage hindered, or their Way obstructed by that which keeps me here; and were I disposed to leave my Coach behind, and Foot it after them, I might in their Company sooner reach the place my Designs and Affairs call me to, than I shall (probably) be supplied with hopes of getting quickly out from hence. Alas! How frequently falls it out thus in our Journeys towards Heaven? Those whom their adverse Fortune, or a Noble Scorn, hath stripped of, or released from, these troublesome and intangling Externals, may tread the Paths of Life nimbly, and cheerfully, being unstopped by many Obstacles, that intercept the Progresses of others. But those stately Persons, whose Pride or Effeminacy will not permit them to move an Inch towards Heaven, unless they may be carried thither in Pleasure's easy Coaches, and who will not bate a Superfluity, or lay by the least Circumstance or Punctilio of Grandezza, to lessen themselves into a capacity of entering in at the straight Gate, may soon find these treacherous and over-loved Conveniences turned into cumbersome Clogs, and real Impediments, that will, if not Block up, at least Obstruct the passage to the Seat of so much Joy; that even to be cast Ashore there, by Shipwreck, were a Blessing; and that he is thought unworthy to be admitted there, that cannot think it his Happiness to reach that place himself, though he leave all behind him to get thither.   

REFLECTION X.  
Looking through a Perspective Glass upon a Vessel we suspected to give us Chase, 
Sailing betwixt Rotterdam and Gravesend on Easter-day, 1648.  and to be a Pirate.  
THis Glass does indeed approach the distrusted Vessel, but it approaches her only to our Eyes, not to our Ship; if she be not making up to us, this harmless Instrument will prove no Loadstone to draw her towards us, and if she be, it will put us into a better readiness to receive her. Such another Instrument in relation to Death, is the Meditation of it; (by Mortals so much, and so causelessly, abhorred) for though most Men as studiously shun all Thoughts of Death, as if, like nice Acquaintances, he would forbear to Visit where he knows he is never thought of, or as if we could exempt ourselves from being Mortal, by forgetting that we are so; yet does this Meditation bring Death nearer to us, without at all lessening the real distance betwixt Us and Him: If that last Enemy be not yet approaching us, this innocent Glass will no more quicken his pace, than direct his steps; and if he be, without hastening his Arrival, it will prepare us for his Reception: For my part, my Beardless Chin allows me to presume, that by the course of Nature, I have yet a pretty stock of Sand in the upper part of my Hourglass; Wherefore, though I am too Young to say with Isaac, behold, now I am Old, And I know not the Day of my Death, Gen. 27. 2. yet since the Youngest and Lustiest of us all, has cause to say with the Mirror of Patience, When a few Years are come, then shall I go the way whence I shall not return, Job. 16. 22. and since 'tis the wise Man's Counsel, Not to boast ourselves of to Morrow, because we know not what a Day may bring forth. I will endeavour (to use our Saviour's terms) To take heed to myself, least at any time that Day come upon me unawares, Luke 21. 34. And as the only safe Expedient in order thereunto, I will (in imitation of holy Job) All the Days of my appointed time wait till my Change come, Job 14. 24.    

The II. SECTION, Containing OCCASIONAL REFLECTIONS, Upon the Accidents of an Ague.  

MEDITATION I.  
Upon the first Invasion of the Disease.  
THis Visit, (Dear 
* A name often given by the Author to his excellent Sister R. who was almost always with him during his Sickness.  Sophronia) which you intended but for an act of Kindness, proves also one of Charity; for though it be not many hours since we parted, and though you left me free from any other discomposure than that which your leaving me is wont to give me; yet this little time has made so great a change in my Condition, as to be, I doubt not, already visible in my Looks: For whilst I was sitting quietly in my Chamber, and was as far from the Thoughts of Sickness, as from any such disorders as are wont to be the occasions of it; and whilst I was delightfully entertained, by an Outlandish Virtuoso that came to Visit me, with an Account of the several attempts that are either made, or designed▪ in foreign Parts, to produce Curiosities, and improve Knowledge; I was suddenly surprised with a Chillness, and a Shivering, that came so unexpected, and increased so fast, that it was heightened into a downright Fit of an Ague, before I could satisfy myself what it was. But I confess, that this unwelcome accident had not amazed me, as well as troubled me, if I had sufficiently considered to what a strange number and variety of Distempers these frail Carcases of ours are Obnoxious; for, if I had called to mind what my Curiosity for Dissections has shown me, and remembered how many Bones, and Muscles, and Veins, and Arteries, and Grisles, and Ligaments, and Nerves, and Membranes, and Juices, a humane Body is made up of, I could not have been surprised, that so curious an Engine, that consists of so many pieces, whose Harmony is requisite to Health, and whereof not any is superfluous, nor scarce any insensible, should have some or other of them out of order, it being no more strange that a Man's Body should be subject to Pain, or Sickness, than that an Instrument with above a thousand Strings (if there were any such) should frequently be out of Tune, especially since the bare change of Air may as well discompose the Body of a Man, as untune some of the Strings of such an Instrument; so that even the inimitable Structure of humane Bodies is scarce more admirable, than that such curious and elaborate Engines can be so contrived, as not to be oftener out of order than they are; the preservation of so nice and exact a Frame being the next wonder to its Work-man-ship. And indeed, when I consider further, how many outward accidents are able to destroy the Life, or, at the least, the Health, even of those that are careful to preserve them; and how easily the Beams of a warm Sun, or the Breath of a cold Wind, or too much, or too little Exercise, a Dish of green Fruit, or an infectious Vapour, or even a sudden Fright, or ill News, are able to produce Sickness, and perhaps Death; and when I think too, how many evitable Mischiefs our own Appetites, or Vices, expose us to, by acts of Intemperance, that necessitate the Creatures to offend us, and practices of Sin, whereby we provoke the Creator to punish us; when I say, I consider all this, and consequently how many Mischiefs he must escape that arrives at Gray-hairs; I confess, the commonness of the Sight cannot keep me from thinking it worth some wonder, to see an Old man, especially if he be any thing Healthy. But these kinds of Thoughts (Sophronia) are seldom entertained, unless they be excited by some unwelcome Occasions; and when we are long accustomed to Health, we take it for granted, that we shall enjoy it, without taking it for a Mercy that we are so; we are not sensible enough of our continual need and dependence on the divine Goodness, if we long and uninterruptedly enjoy it; and by that unthankful heedlessness we do, as it were, necessitate Providence to deprive us of its wont supports, to make us sensible that we did enjoy, and that we always need them: It being but fit that Mercies should cease to be constant, which, their constancy only, that should be their indearment, keeps us from entertaining as Mercies; I will therefore (Sophronia) endeavour to derive this advantage from this sudden Fit of Sickness, to make me thankful for Health, when God shall be pleased to restore it me, and to keep me from reckoning confidently upon the lastingness of it: For though we are very unapt to take even the Wise man's Counsel, where he forbids us to boast ourselves of to Morrow, because we know not what a Day may bring forth; yet by such accidents I find, that Solomon spoke much within compass, and had not done otherwise, if for a Day he had substituted an Hour: For so many, and so various are the unfore-seen accidents to which we poor Mortals are exposed, that the continuance of our Health, or Prosperity, do much more merit our thanks, than the interruption of them can deserve our wonder. And I must confess, (Sophronia) that though my falling Sick may be but my unhappiness, my being so much surprised at it was my fault.   

MEDITATION II.  
Upon the immoderate Heat and Cold of the Aguish Fit.  
ONe that, not knowing what Ails me, should come in, and see me in this soft Bed, not only covered, but almost oppressed, with clothes, would confidently conclude, that, whether or no I be distressed by the contrary Quality, I cannot at least be troubled with Cold; and if he himself were so, he will be apt to Envy me. And if instead of coming in my Cold fit, he should Visit me in my Hot one, and see me with my Shoulders and Arms quite uncovered, and nothing but the single Sheet on the rest of my Body; he would be apt to think, that I must lie very cool. But alas! in spite of all that lies upon me, an internal Frost has so diffused itself through every Part, that my Teeth chatter, and my whole Body does shake strongly enough to made the Bed itself do so; and, though I still wish for more clothes, yet those that are heaped on me, can so little control this preternatural Cold, that a Pile of them might sooner be made great enough to Crush than to Warm me: So that when I Travelled even in frosty Nights, the Winter had nothing near so strong an Operation on me. And as that external Cold was far more supportable whilst it lasted, so it was incomparably more easy for me, by Exercise, and otherwise, to deliver myself from it.  
Thus, when a Great or Rich Man's mind is distempered with Ambition, Avarice, or any immoderate Affection, though the Bystanders, that see not what disquiets him, but see what great store of Accommodations fortune has provided for him, may be drawn to Envy his Condition, and be kept very far from suspecting that he can want that Contentment, the means of which they see him so Richly supplied with: And yet alas! as the Colder heat of the external Air is much less troublesome to a Man in Health, though furnished with an ordinary proportion of clothes, than the Cold or Hot fit of an Ague, with a pile of Blankets first, and then a single Sheet; so to a Vigorous and Healthy constitution of mind, External inconveniences are much more supportable than any Accommodations can make the condition of a distempered Soul. Let us not then judge of Men's happiness, so much by what they have, as by what they are, and consider both, that Fortune can but give much, and it must be the Mind that makes that much enough: And that, as 'tis more easy to endure Winter, or the Dog-days in the Air, than in the Blood; so a Healthful mind, in spite of Outward inconveniences, may afford a Man a condition preferable to all External accommodations without that.   

MEDITATION III.  
Upon the Succession of the Cold and Hot Fit.  
WHen the cold Fit first seized me, me-thought it was rather melted Snow than Blood that Circulated in my Veins, where it moved so Inordinately, and maintained the vital Flame so Penuriously, that the greatest Sign which was left to distinguish this Cold from that of Death, was, its making me shake strong enough to shake the Bed I lay on. I called for more and more clothes, only because I needed them, not because I found any relief by them: I fancied the torrid Zone to be of a far more desirable Constitution than that we call the Temperate; and as little as I am wont to reverence vulgar Chemists, I then envied their Laborants, whose employment requires them to attend the Fire: But when the Cold Fit was once over, it was quickly succeeded by a Hot one, which after a while I thought more troublesome than it. I threw off the clothes much faster than my former importunity had procured them to be laid on me; and I, that could a little before scarce feel all that had been heaped on me, could not now support a single Sheet, but thought its weight oppressed me.  
I envied the Inhabitants of Norway, and Iceland, far more than those that dwell either in the richest Province of East-India, or of the Golden Coast itself: And of all Creatures, not Rational, I thought the Fishes the happiest, since they Live in a cool Stream, and, when they please, may Drink as much as they List.  
If then (Sophronia) the selfsame Person may, within less than two hours, have such different apprehensions of his own Condition, as now to complain of that as a sad Grievance, which but an hour before he wished for as a Relief; we may well acknowledge, that we frequently mistake in estimating the Hardships and Afflictions we complain of, and find them not so uneasy as we make them, whilst we not only endure the whole Affliction that troubles us, but often increase it, by repining at the envied Condition of others.  
An afflicted Man is very apt to fancy, that any kind of Sickness, that for the present troubles him, is far less supportable than if it were exchanged for another Disease; and imagines his case to be so singular, that one cannot say to him in Saint Paul's Language, No Temptation has befallen you, but that which is common to Men, 1 Cor. 10. 13. He presumes, that he could far more easily support his Crosses, if instead of his present Disease, he had this or that other, though, if the Exchange were made, he would perchance wish for his first Sickness, if not be as much troubled at his own Folly, as with the Disease. He that is tormented with the Gout, is apt to envy any Sick man that is exempted from that Roaring pain, and able to Walk about; He that is swelled with the Dropsy, fancies all Persons happy whose Diseases allow them Drink to quench their Thirst: And the Blind man envies both these, and thinks no Persons so miserable in this World as those that cannot see the World. Fever's burn us, Agues shatter us, Dropsies drown us, Frenzies unman us, the Gout tortures us, Convulsions wrack us, Epilepsies fell us, colicks tear us; and in short, there is no considerable Disease that is not very troublesome in itself, how ever Religion may sanctify and sweeten it: For as a Fortress, whose Defendants are not Treacherous, can scarce be taken otherwise than either by Famine, or Storm; so Life, for whose preservation Nature is so faithfully solicitous, cannot be extinguished, unless either Chronical Diseases do Lingeringly destroy, or some Acute do hastily snatch it away. And indeed, if a Disease prove Mortal, 'tis no more than is to be expected, if it tyre out the Patient with tedious Languishments, or else dispatch him with dismal Symptoms: Nor is it in point of Sickness only, that we are often more unhappy than we need, by Fancying ourselves more unhappy than we should be, if we were allowed to exchange that which now troubles us, for any thing which does not. But there are Evils, which, though exceeding contrary in appearance, and circumstances, do yet agree in being extremely troublesome; as the possessed Wretch our Saviour cured in the Gospel, though he were sometimes cast into the Fire, and sometimes into the Water, yet in both states was tormented by the same Devil, who in variety of Inflictions still expressed the same Malice. But we should make a righter Estimate of suffering, if we did but consider, that much uneasiness is annexed to an Afflicted condition in general; and that therefore, which we are sensible of, may proceed rather from the general nature of Sicknesses, and Crosses, than from the particular Kind and Degree of ours. And indeed, if a Man were permitted to exchange his Disease with those of others, he would often find his granted wishes to bring him a variety of Mischiefs, rather than an Exemption from them; and many of those that we Envy, as thinking them far less Sufferers than ourselves, do look with invidious Eyes on us, and do but dissemble their Grievances more handsomely than we, not find them more easy than ours. And that of Saint Peter may be more generally applied, than most Men think, where he exhorts to constancy, upon this consideration, That the same Sufferings are accomplished upon our Brethren in the World, 1 Pet. 5. 9 For 'tis all one as to the Efficacy of this Lenity, whether our Afflictions be the same with those of others, in Kind, or not Superior to them in Degree: And I doubt not, but we should support many of our Grievances as easily as those for which we wish them exchanged, if the chief account upon which they trouble us, were not rather that they are the present ones, than the greatest.   

MEDITATION IU.  
Upon the being let Blood.  
ONe of the most troublesome Symptoms in almost all Feverish Distempers, is wont to be Thirst; and in mine it was importunate to a degree, that made me very much so, in frequently soliciting those that were about me for Drink, which, in the heat of the Fit, seemed so desirable an Object, that it then much lessened my wonder at that parched King's agreement, who, urged with Thirst, sold his Liberty for a full Draught of cold Water. But alas! I sadly found, that the Liquor I swallowed so Greedily, afforded me but a very transient Relief, the latter being gone almost as soon as the former had passed thorough my Throat, so that not only it did but amuse me, not Cure me; but, which is worse, Drinking itself increased my Thirst, by increasing the Fever, whose uneasy Symptom that was. Wherefore, seeing all the cooling Juleps that could be administered, did free me from nothing but the Expectation of being much relieved by such slight and palliative Medicines; the Doctor thought himself this Day obliged to a quite contrary, and yet a more generous Remedy; and ordered, that, instead of giving me Drink, they should take away Blood, as judging it the best and far the surest course to take away the uneasy Symptom, by removing that which Foments the cause.  
Thus when the Mind is distempered with turbulent Commotions, and the disquieted Appetite does too restlessly and eagerly crave Objects, which, though perhaps in themselves not absolutely Bad, are at least made, by a Conjunction of Circumstances, unfit and dangerous for the Person that longs for them: We, like unskilful or unruly Patients, fond imagine, that the only way to appease our Desires, is, to grant them the Objects they so Passionately tend to. But the wise and sovereign Physician of Souls, who considers not so much what we do wish, as what we should wish, often discerns, that this preternatural Thirst indicateth and calls for a Lancet, rather than a Julep, and knows it best to attempt the Cure, rather by taking away somewhat that we have than by giving us that which only a Spiritual superfluity reduces us to want: And in effect, we often see, that as a few Ounces of Blood taken away in a Fever, does cool the Patient more than the giving him ten times as much Drink would do; so a few Afflictions, by partly letting out, and partly moderating our corrupt Affections, do more compose and appease a Mind molested with inordinate Appetites, than the Possession of a great many of the Objects we impotently desire. Whilst our Appetites are roving, and unreasonable, and insatiate, the obtaining of this or that particular Object does but amuse the Patient, not take away the Disease; whereas seasonable, and sanctify'd Crosses, that teach us to know ourselves, and make us sensible how little we deserve, and how little the things we are so Greedy of could make us happy, if obtained, may reduce us to a Resignation, and Tranquillity of Mind, preferable to those overvalued things, which, as it keeps us from enjoying, so it keeps us from needing. Thus Zacheus, who, whilst a Publican never thought he had enough, when he had once entertained our Saviour, though he offered to make a quadruple Restitution of what ever he had fraudulently acquired, was, upon a sudden, by being freed from Avarice, grown so Rich, that he was forward to give no less than half he had to the Poor; as if his Divine Guest had wrought upon his Goods, such Miracles as he had done upon the five Loaves, and two Fishes, of which the Remains amounted to more than the whole Provision was at first.   

MEDITATION V.  
Upon the Taking of Physic.  
THe last bitter Potion that I took, (Sophronia) was, I remember, sweetened with the hopes were given me with it, that it might prove the last I should need to take, and would procure me a settled and durable Health: But I find by sad Experience, That the benefit I derived from it is nothing near so lasting as it was welcome; for I am now reduced to take Physic again, and I fear must often do so, before I shall be able to dislodge this troublesome Ague that haunts me: For though the last Physic I took, wrought so well, that I hoped it had brought away not only the ill Humours themselves, but the very sources of them; yet by the effect of what I took this Morning, I not only find there is as much to be purged away now as there was then, but, what is sadder, I can scarce hope this Physic will excuse me from the need of taking more again ere long: But though 'tis a troublesome thing, and must be often repeated, yet 'tis a salutary thing too, and cannot be more unpleasant than 'tis useful; and as Loathsome as it is, a Sickness were far worse. Thus when a relenting Sinner has endeavoured to wash away his Sins with his Tears, he may possibly think himself so throughly washed in that abstersive Brine, (which yet owes its cleansing Virtue not to its own Nature, but to the Blood of Christ) that if he be a new Convert, and be entertained with those Ravishing delights wherewith God is often pleased to engage such returning Prodigals, (as the Kind Father welcomed his Riotous Son with Feasting, and with Music) that he is apt to fancy Repentance to be like Baptism, which, being received once for a Man's whole Life, needs never be renewed. But though, during such transports, an unexperienced Convert may be apt to cast the Gauntlet to the World, saying in his Spiritual prosperity, that he shall never be moved; yet, as our Saviour speaks, The Spirit indeed is willing, but the Flesh is weak; and too commonly our Resolutions flag with our Joys, and those that a while before imagined they despised the World, find themselves Worsted, if not Captivated, by it; and find it far more difficult than they thought it, to Live in the Company of Sinners without being of their Number, and in so defiled a World without being spotted by it.  
And as the same David, who said in his Prosperity, he should never be moved, said in his Distress, he should one Day perish by the hand of Saul: So many of those, that whilst their Tears of Repentance, and of Joy, are not yet dried off their Eyes, are apt to defy and contemn all the Ghostly enemies, and difficulties, that oppose their present zealous Resolutions, will perhaps in a while after, when they meet with unexpected Impediments, and foils, change their confidence into despair, and think those very Enemies, whom they lately looked on as Despicable, to be Insuperable: But as Physic, that does good for a time, ought not to be rejected, because it does good but for a time; nor should we reject the only sure means of our present Recovery, for fear of future Relapses; so, though we sadly find that Repentance must be repeated, and that after we have practised it often, we must have need of it again; yet since 'tis the only proper means to recover a Soul out of a state of Sin, which is worse than any Disease, and leads to the worst of Deaths, we must never suffer ourselves to be so far Discouraged, as to forgo so necessary and so profitable a Duty, and must not more frequently Relapse into faults, than renew our Sorrow for them, and our Resolves against them: For Innocence indeed is far more desirable than Repentance, as Health is than Physic. But as Physic is more Eligible than the continuance of Sickness, so is Repentance more Eligible than continuing in the state of Sin: And as the Drinking even of a bitter Potion is a less Evil than the heat, and thirst, and restlessness of an Ague; so to lament for Sin here, is a far less uneasy thing than to do it in a place where there is nothing but remediless Wailing, and Gnashing of Teeth. 'Tis true, that our Souls are in this too like our Bodies, that our whole Lives are spent betwixt Purging away of naughty Humours, and accumulating them: And methinks I hear the Flesh still saying unto the Spirit, as Ruth did to Naomi, The Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but Death part thee and me, Ruth 1. 14. But although there are Defilements, which, though often washed off, will as often come again to blemish us; 
Rom.. 8. 13.  and though the Deeds of the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Body, will scarce all of them perfectly be put to Death, but with the Body itself; yet next to an uninterrupted state of Health, frequent and early Recoveries are desirable: And though the shameful necessity of needing to beg many pardons for the same fault, may justly make an ingenious Christian cry out with Saint Paul, O! Wretched Man that I am, who shall deliver me from the Body of this Death; yet the same sense of his own frailty, that puts this Exclamation into his Mouth, may comfort his Heart, by its being a pledge, that he shall one Day be able Exultingly to say with the same Apostle in another place, Thanks be to God which giveth us the Victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ, 1 Cor. 15. 57   

MEDITATION VI.  
Upon the Syrups and other sweet things sent him by the Doctor.  
THis complaisant Physician (Sophronia) is you see very solicitous, that his Remedies should as well gratify the Patient, as oppose the Disease: And besides, that this Julip is tinged with Syrup of Clove-gilly-flowers, that it may at once delight the Palate, and the Eye; some of these other Remedies are sweetened with as much Sugar, as if they came not from an Apothecary's Shop, but a Confectioners. But my Mouth is too much out of Taste to relish any thing that passes through it; and though my Sickness makes this Flattering of the Palate almost necessary to the rendering these Medicines takable by me, yet upon the account of the same Distemper, all that the Doctor's tenderness and skill could do to make them Pleasant, can at most but keep them from being Loathsome. And therefore, you will easily believe, Sophronia, that I enjoy these sweet things upon a score, that if it does Embitter them, does at least, as to me, deprive them of their Nature: So that he, that for the sake of these Syrups, and Electuaries, should, notwithstanding the Malady that needs them, envy me, might be suspected to be troubled with a worse Disease than an Ague is, a Frenzy.  
Thus there are many Favourites of Fortune, whose seeming Enjoyments may perchance be Envied by those that do but Gaze on their Condition, whilst 'tis rather pitied by those that know it: To be brought by Greatness of Power, or Riches, and Effeminacy of Mind, to that pass, that they seldom hear any thing but their own Praises, even when their Actions merit Reprehension, and that they can relish nothing that is not sweetened with so much of Flattery, as quite to disguise, and perhaps pervert, its Nature. These, as I was going to say, and such other unhappy Privileges, are things, which (whatever Fools may think) will not recommend Greatness to a considering Man, and are far more fit to procure the Possessour's ruin, than wise Men's envy: And besides, that a vain and impotent Soul is, by those disquieting Qualities, molested with greater Distempers than those Gratifications can make amends for, and which often hinder the full Relishing of these or any other Pleasure. The delight these treacherous Delicacies afford, is so much less considerable than the Weakness they suppose; that 'tis far more Eligible to be without them than to need them.   

MEDITATION VII.  
Upon the want of Sleep.  
AH! Dear Sophronia, in spite of all the care, and officiousness of those diligent Attendants, that you were pleased to send to watch with me, I have Slept all Night as little as I do now, or as I shall desire to do whilst you stay here.  
This unwelcome leisure brought me as much a Necessity as an Opportunity to spend the time in entertaining my Thoughts, which on this occasion were almost as Various, and seemed too as Wild, as, if I had Slept, my Dreams themselves would have been: And therefore, I presume you will not wonder, if I can now recall but few of them, and if the rest be as easily Vanished out of my Memory, as they came abruptly into my Mind.  
The first Thought that I remember entertained me, was that which was the most naturally suggested by the condition I was in: For when I found how tedious and wearisome each hour was, and observed how long a time seemed to intervene betwixt the several Divisions that the striking of the Clock made of a Night, that must at this time of the Year be much shorter than the Day, I could not but consider, how insupportable their condition must be, to be cast into outer Darkness, where tormented Wretches lie, not as I do upon a soft Bed, but upon Fire and Brimstone, where no attendance of Servants, or kindness of Friends, is allowed them, that need it as much as they deserve it little; and, which is worst of all, where no Beam of hope is permitted to Consolate them, as if the Day should Dawn after so Dismal a Night, though protracted to Millions of Ages, each of whose miserable hours appears an Age.  
The next thing I was considering, was, How defective we are in point of Gratitude to God; I now Blush that I cannot call to Mind the time, when I ever thought that his having vouchsafed me the power of Sleeping, deserved a particular Acknowledgement. But now I begin to see that 'tis our Heedlessness, not their Uselessness, that keeps us from daily being thankful for a multitude of Mercies, that we take no notice of; Though it be injurious, That that only commonness that heightens the Benefit, should keep us from being sensible of the Greatness of it. I confess I was very lately one of them, who looked upon Sleep as one of those inconveniencies of humane Nature, that merit a Consolation; and I very little apprehended, that I should ever complain of the want of Sleep, as of a Grievance, the necessity of it being what I always looked upon under that Notion: But I now perceive, he was a Wise man, who said, That God made every thing Beautiful in its Season. And yet, when I consider the Affinity betwixt Sleep and Death, whose Image it is, I cannot but think it very unlikely, that this Life should be designed for our Happiness, since not to lose almost half of it were an Infelicity.  
Another thing I remember I was considering, was this, That though want of Sleep be one of the uneasiest accidents that attend on Sickness, yet in many cases it proves as useful as it can be unwelcome: For there is a sort of Jolly people, far more Numerous than I could wish them, who are at utter defiance with Thinking, and do as much fear to be alone, as they should to do any course that is naturally productive of so unmanly a fear: And the same Sinful employments, or Vain pastimes, that make them afraid of being alone, do so much keep them from the necessity of being so, that they keep them almost from the very Possibility of it: For in the time of Health, Visits, Businesses, Cards, and I know not how many other Avocations, which they justly style Diversions, do succeed one another so thick, that in the Day there is no time left for the distracted Person to converse with his own Thoughts: And even, when they are Sick, though they be debarred of many of those wont Diversions, yet Cards and Company will give them enough to prove a Charm against Thinking, which the Patient is so willing, or rather solicitous, to decline, the need of that Sickness less troubles him, as it keeps his Body from going abroad, than as it tends to drive his Thoughts home; so that Sickness does little or nothing towards the making such Men consider, by casting them upon their Beds, unless it also hinder them from Sleeping there. But in the long and tedious Nights, when all the Praters, and the Gamesters (who are usually called good Companions, but seldom prove good Friends) are withdrawn, and have left our Patient quite alone, the Darkness of the Night begins to make him discern, and take some notice of his own Condition▪ and his Eyes, for want of outward Objects, are turned inwards, he must, whether he will or no, during the Silence of the Night, hear those Lessons, which by the Hurry and Avocations of the Day he endeavoured to avoid. And though this be a very unwelcome Mercy, yet 'tis a Mercy still, and perhaps the greater for being so unwelcome: For if he could Sleep in Sickness, as he used to do in Health, he were in great danger of having his Conscience laid Asleep, till it should be Awaked by the Flames and Shriecks of Hell. And the design of God in chastening, being to reclaim and amend us, we not only do, by our want of Reflecting, endure the trouble of Sickness, without reaping the benefit of it, but also by our shunning to consider, we are so Ill-natured to ourselves, as to lengthen the Sickness, we are so Impatient of; which is in us as foolish as 'twould be in a nice Patient, after having been made to take a bitter, but a salutary Potion, to send unseasonably for Cordials and Julips to hinder the working of it, and so by such unruliness lose the benefit of the Operation, and lengthen his Pain and Sickness, to avoid the far less trouble of complying with the Nature of the Medicine, and the Designs of the Physician: So that Repentance being necessary to Recovery, and the considering of a Man's own ways as necessary to Repentance, the want of Sleep, which both allows us time, and imposes on us a necessity to think, may well be looked upon as a happy Grievance, since it very much tends to the shortening of our Afflictions, by the disposing us to Cooperate towards God's aims in sending them.   

MEDITATION VIII.  
Upon telling the Strokes of an ill-going Clock in the Night.  
THe same Violence of my Fit, that made me very much need Sleep, allowed me so little of it, that I think I missed not hearing one stroke of the Clock all the Night long. But since you know, Sophronia, that the Clock is kept by the Soldiers that are Quartered in the place where it stands, you will easily believe, that 'tis not very carefully looked to, especially since they are not only wont to let it go Ill, but do oft times make it do so on purpose, and as may best comply with the Officers occasions, and as they would have the Guards that are to be set here, or to be sent hence, sooner or later Relieved. Of this uncertain going of the Clock, I never had occasion to take so much notice as the last Night, when, lying too constantly awaked, I began to observe, that though all the hours were so tedious, as to seem every one of them extraordinary long, yet they manifestly appeared to me not to be equally so; and therefore, when the Clock struck Eleven, to satisfy myself whether it did not mis-inform me, I called to one that sat up by me for the Watch I use to measure the time with in nice Experiments, and found it to want but very little of Midnight; and not much above an hour after, when by my Watch it was but about one, those that kept the Clock, whether out of Negligence, or Design, or to make amends for past Slowness, made it strike two, which seemed to me to hint a not unuseful Rule in estimating the length or shortness of Discourses: For there are Cases, where the difficulty or importance of the Subject is such, that though it cost a Man many words, yet, if what he says be not sufficiently fitted to the Exigency of the Occasion, and the Theme, he may speak much, without saying enough. But on the other hand, if (as it often happens) a Man speak either Unseasonably, Erroneously, or Impertinently, he may, though he say little, talk too much; The paucity or number of Words, is not, as many think it, that which is in such cases to be chiefly considered; for 'tis not many, or few, that are required, but enough. And, As our Clock struck not so often as it should have done, when it struck Eleven, and yet struck a while after too often when it struck but two, because the first time it was Midnight, and the second time it was but one of the Clock; so to estimate whether what is said have its due length, we are not so much to look whether it be little, or much, as whether a Man speak in the right time, and say neither more nor less than he should.   

MEDITATION IX.  
Upon comparing the Clock and his Watch.  
THe occasion I had (Sophronia) to compare the Clock and my Watch, suggested to me this other Reflection, That the Dyal-plate of the Clock being I know not how many times larger than that of the Watch, the Circle on which the hours were marked in the one, did by vast Odds exceed the correspondent Circle of the other: And yet, though the Index of the Clock had then past through a far greater quantity of space than that of the Watch, this little Index, being, when it was indeed Midnight, arrived at the mark of the twelfth hour, when the greater Index was come but to that of the eleventh, I justly concluded, That the Watch did not only go truer, but more forward than the Clock.  
Thus in estimating Men's Lives, there is something else to be looked at than the mere duration of them: For there are some Men, who having Loitered and Trifled away very many Years in the World, have no other Argument of their Age, than the Church-books of their Gray-hairs; and as little do they indeed Live, that waste a number of insignificant Years in successive or perpetual Diversions from the true business and end of Life. These, and many other kinds of Persons, that consume much Time to little purpose, may be said rather to have Lasted long, than to have Lived long: As the careless Wanderer, who, instead of Travelling, does nothing but stray from one wrong way to another, though he do so at Midsummer from Mornning to Night, may be said to have been long a Horseback, but not to have performed a long Journey; whereas he, that by thriftily Husbanding his time, and industriously Improving it, has early dispatched the business for which he was sent into the World, needs not Gray-hairs to be reputed to have Lived long enough, and consequently longer than those that wear Gray-hairs, only because they were Born many Years before him. In a word, to one of these sorts of Men we may attribute a longer Time, but to the other a longer Life; (for even the Heathen could say, Non est vivere sed valere Vita) and within how narrow a compass soever a Man's Life be confined, if he have Lived so long, as before he comes to the end of Life he have reached the ends of Living; The attainment of that Measure of Knowledge, and the practice of those Graces and Virtues that fit a Man to glorify God in this short Life, and to be Glorified by him in that which shall have no End.   

MEDITATION X.  
Upon a Thief in a Candle.  
THe silence of the Night, and my being unable to Sleep, disposing me to have my attention very easily excited; I chanced to take notice, that the Dim light of the Candle, which the Curtains were not drawn so close as to exclude every where out of the Bed, was on a sudden considerably increased, and continued so long in that condition, that, for fear of some mischance, I put my Head out of the Bed to see whence it was that this new and unexpected increase of Light proceeded; but I quickly found, that 'twas from a Thief (as they call it) in the Candle, which by its irregular way of making the Flame blaze, had melted down a good part of the Tallow, and would have spoiled the rest, if I had not called to one of those that Watched with me, to rescue the remains by the removal of the Thief. But I had scarce done this, when, I confess to you, (Sophronia) I found myself invited to make some Reflections upon what I had done, and to read myself a new Lesson by the Beams of this new Light: For though this Thief made the Candle shine more strongly, and diffuse a much greater Light than it did before; yet because it made a great and irregular waste of the Candle, I ordered it to be taken away; and on this occasion me-thought I might justly make use of that saying of Pharaoh's forgetful Butler, I do remember my Faults this Day, Gen. 41. 9 For though I find no great difficulty in abstaining from other kinds of Intemperance, yet to that of Studying, my Friends, and especially my Physicians, have often accused me of being too Indulgent: Nor can I altogether deny, but that in mental Exercises, there can be Exorbitancies, and Excesses, I may have sometimes been Guilty of them; and that the things for which I think Life valuable, being the satisfaction that accrues from the improvement of Knowledge, and the exercise of Piety, I thought it allowable, if not commendable, to consume or hazard it for the attainment of those Ends; and esteemed Sickness more formidable for its unfitting me to learn, and to teach, than for its being attended with pain and danger, and looked upon what it made me forbear, as far more troublesome than what ever else it made me endure. But I find my Body is a Jade, and tires under my Mind, and a few hours fixed Contemplation does sensibly so spend my Spirits, as to make me feel myself more weary that the Riding post for twice as many hours has ever done. Wherefore, since, though the proper use of a Candle be to consume itself, that it may give others Light, I yet thought fit to have the Thief taken away, because, though it made the Candle give more Light, it would have wasted it too fast, and consequently made it expire too soon; I see not how I can resist their persuasions, that would have me husband better the little stock of strength Nature has given me, and the rather, by a moderate expense of it, endeavour to make it shine long, though but Dimly, then consume it to fast, though for a while to keep up a Blaze: I will therefore endeavour to learn of this Sickness, and of this Accident, what the Doctors hitherto could never teach me, and enjoin myself an Abstinence, which to me is more uneasy, than if Wine, or Women, or other sensual Pleasures were to be the Objects of it; but if in so difficult an Exercise of Self-denial, I do not always perform what I am now persuaded to, 'tis like I shall easily forgive myself, for but a little hastening the end of my Life to attain the ends of it.   

MEDITATION XI.  
Upon the being in danger of Death.  
I Know that Physicians are wont after their Master Hypocrates, to tell us, That Fevers which intermit are devoid of Danger: But though an Ague, whilst it continues such, could not be a mortal Disease; yet why may it not degenerate into such a one? And for my part, who take the Prognostics of Physicians to be but Guesses, not Prophecies, and know how backward they are to bid us fear, till our Condition leave them little hopes of us: I cannot but think that Patient very ill advised, who thinks it not time to entertain thoughts of Death, as long as his Doctor allows him any hopes of Life; for in case they should both be deceived, 'twould be much easier for the mistaken Physician to save his Credit, than for the unprepared Sinner to save his Soul.  
Wherefore, Sophronia, finding my Disease attended with unusual threatening Symptoms, not knowing where they would end, I last Night thought it fit to suppose they might end in Death: And two things especially made me the more ready for such an entertainment of my Thoughts.  
One, That we can scarce be too careful and diligent in fitting ourselves for the Acting of a part well, that we can never Act but once; For where the Scripture tells us, It is appointed for all Men once to Dye; it is immediately subjoined, That after that comes Judgement; and if we Dye ill once, we shall never be allowed to Die again, to see if we would Die better the second time than we did the first: But as the Wise man Allegorically speaks, Where the Tree falls there shall it lie: So that the faults committed in this last and importantest of humane Actions, being irreparable, I think the only safe way is to imitate him, who, having said, If a Man Dye, shall he Live again? presently annexed by way of Inference and Resolution: All the Days of my appointed Time will I wait till my Change come.  
The other consideration that recommended to me the Thoughts of the Grave, was this, That we may be often solicitous to provide against many Evils and Dangers that possibly may never reach us; and many endure from the Anxious fears of contingent Mischiefs that never will befall them, more Torment than the apprehended Mischiefs themselves, though really suffered, would inflict. But Death will sooner or later infallibly come, and never finally deceive our Expectations, and therefore the fore-thoughts of it are an employment which may prove, we know not how soon, of use, and will (however) prove of excellent Advantage: The frequent Meditation of the end of our Lives, conducing so much to make us lead them well, that the expectation of Death brings not less Advantages to those that scape the Grave, than to those that descend into it.  
Such like considerations (Sophronia) having put me upon the thoughts of Death, I presume you may have some Curiosity to know what these Thoughts were; and therefore, though I have neither Fitness, nor Inclination to mention to you those that almost every Sober person would have upon a Deathbed, as a Man, and as a Christian, I will only take notice to you of those few that were suggested to me, by the less general Circumstances of my condition. And I am the more willing to satisfy you Curiosity now, because I have myself been very inquisitive on the like occasion: For the approach of Death will (if any thing can) make Men serious and considerate, being for good and all to go off the Stage; they make a truer and sincerer Judgement of the World they are ready to leave, and then have not the wont Partiality for the pleasures and profits of a Life they are now abandoning. And as the Mind looks with other Eyes upon the World, when Death is ready to shut those of the Body; so Men are then wont as well to speak their Thoughts more frankly, as to have them better grounded. Death stripping most Men of their Dissimulation, as well as of other things it makes them part with; and indeed it is then high time for the Soul to put off her Disguises, when she is ready to put off the very Body itself.  
One thing then that I was considering, (Sophronia) was, in how wretched a condition I should now be, if I had been of the same Mind with the generality of those, who are of the same Age with me: For these presume, That Youth is as well made for Pleasures, as capable of them, and is not more a Temptation to Vanity, than an Excuse for it. They imagine themselves to do a great Matter, if, whilst Youth lasts, they do so much as resolve to grow better when it is gone; and they think, That for a Man to be otherwise than Intentionally Religious before his Hair begin to change Colour, were not only to lose the privileges of Youth, but to encroach upon those of old Age. But alas! How few are Destroyed by that incurable Disease, in comparison to those that Dye before they attain it? And how little comfort is it upon a Death Bed, to think, that by the course of Nature, a Man might have Lived longer, when that very Thought might justly prove Dismal to an unprepared Man, by suggesting to him, that this early Death may argue the Measure of his Iniquities exceeding great, and that this untimely End is not so much a Debt due to Nature, as a Punishment of Sin. All the fruition of these deluding Pleasures of Sin, cannot countervail the Horror that a Dying Man's Review of them will create, who not only sees himself upon the point of leaving them for ever, but of suffering for them as long. And on the contrary, the Review of Youthful pleasures declined for Virtue's or Religion's sake, will afford a Dying Man far higher Joys than their Fruition would ever have afforded him.   

MEDITATION XII.  
Upon the same Subject.  
ANd one thing more there is, (Sophronia) that I dare not conceal from you, how much cause soever I have to blush at the disclosing it; And it is, That I judge quite otherwise of a competent preparation for Death now I am near it, than I did when I was in health. And therefore, if one, that, since his Conscience was first thoroughly awakened, still resolved to be a Christian, and though he too often broke those good Resolutions, never renounced them, but tripped and stumbled in the way to Heaven, without quitting his purpose of continuing in it, finds a formidableness in the approach of Death: How uncomfortable must that approach be to those that have still run on in the ways of Sin, without once so much as seriously intending to forsake them? A Youth free from Scandal, and sometimes productive of Practices that were somewhat more than Negative piety, is not so frequent among those that want not opportunities to enjoy the Vanities and Pleasures of the World, but that the Charity of other being seconded by that great inward flatterer Self-love, made me imagine that I was in a Condition fitter to wish for Death, than to fear it. But now I come to look on Death near at hand, and see beyond the Grave, that is just under me, that bottomless Gulf of Eternity; methinks it is a very hard thing to be sufficiently prepared for a Change, that will transmit us to the Bar of an Omniscient Judge, to be there Doomed to an endless state of infinite Happiness or Misery. There is no Art of Memory like a Death-Bed's Review of ones Life; Sickness, and a nearer Prospect of Death, often makes a Man remember those Actions wherein Youth and Jollity made him forget his Duty; and those frivolous Arguments, which when he was in Health, and free from Danger, were able to excuse him to his own indulgent Thoughts, he himself will scarce now think Valid enough to excuse him unto God, before whom, if the sinless Angels cover their Faces, sinful Mortals may justly tremble to be brought to appear. When the approach of Death makes the Bodily eyes grow Dim, those of the Conscience are enabled to discern, That as to many of the Pleas we formerly acquiesced in, it was the prevalence of our Senses that made us think them Reason: And none of that Jolly company, whose examples prevailed with us to join with them in a course of Vanity, will stand by us at the Bar to excuse the Actions they tempted us to: And if they were there, they would be so far from being able to justify us, that they would be condemned themselves. 'Tis true, (Sophronia) if we consider Death only as the conclusion of Life, and a Debt all Men sooner or later pay to Nature, not only a Christian, but a Man, may entertain it without Horror: But if one consider it as a change, That after having left his Body to rot in the Grave, will bring his Soul to the Tribunal of God, to answer the miscarriages of his whole past Life, and receive there an unalterable Sentence that will Doom him to endless and unconceivable Joys, or everlasting and inexpressible Torments; I think 'tis not inconsistent either with Piety or Courage, to look upon so great a change with something of Commotion: And many that would not fear to be put out of the World, will apprehend to be let into Eternity.   

MEDITATION XIII.  
A further Continuation.  
ANother thing, Sophronia, which my present state suggested to me, was, a Reflection on the great mistake of those that think a Deathbed the fittest and opportunest place to begin Repentance in: But sure these Men are very little acquainted, either with the disadvantages of a dangerous Sickness, or the nature of Repentance. 'Tis true, that Sin and Death do more easily frighten one, when they are looked on as both together: But I much doubt whether the being frighted by Hell, be sufficient to give a Man a well-grounded hope of Heaven: For when we see Sin and Torment at one view, and so near one to another, 'tis not so easy to be sure which of the two it is that, as we presume, scares the Sinner towards Heaven. And surely Repentance, which ought to be the change of the whole Man, and in some sense the work of the whole Life, is very improperly begun, when Men have finished that course, which it should have guided them in: Nor have Men cause to presume, that when God is severely punishing them for their Sins, he will vouchsafe them so great a Grace as that of Repentance, which they would none of, till it could not make them serviceable to him. And as for the oppornity 'tis hoped an expiring State may give Men for Repentance, they must needs be great Strangers to great Sicknesses, that can promise themselves so unlikely a matter: Who can secure them, that the Acuteness of the Disease will not invade the Brain? and as Deliriums and Frenzies are not unfrequent in Fevers, and other acute Diseases, so in case they happen to persevere, the Wretched patient is cast into a desperate condition, even on this side the Grave, and as near as the Body is to its Dissolution, the Man may be Dead a pretty while before it.  
But supposing he escape these Accidents, which make Repentance impossible, a dangerous Sickness has other Circumstances enough to make it very uneasy: For the Organical faculties of the Mind cannot but be dulled and prejudiced by the Discomposure of the Spirits, by which their Functions are to be exercised; and the sense of Pain, the troublesome prescriptions of Physicians, the loathsome and bitter Potions, the weakening Operation of Physic, the Languishments produced by want of Spirits, the Restlessness proceeding from Heat and want of Sleep, the distracting Importunity of those interested Persons, especially if any of them be suspected to hover about the Dying Man's Bed, as Birds of Prey that wait for a Carcase, the Sighs and Tears of Friends and Relations that come to take their last Farewell, and to Embitter it, The Lawyer that must be directed to draw up the Will, the Divine that must be allowed to say something concerning the Soul, and the affrighted Conscience, that alone brings more disquiet than all the rest put together, do make a Dying Man's condition so Amazing, so Dismal, and so Distracting, that to think this an Opportune time to begin such a work, (which may well enough employ the whole Man in his calmest state of mind) is a Madness as great as any, that even a Deathbed can, by the translation of the Humours into the Brain, occasion: For my part, I think it so wild, and so unadvisable a thing to put off the beginning to provide all Graces to a Deathbed, that I think it uneasy enough so much as to exercise then those that were acquired before; Men being in that state commonly unable so much as to Reap the consolation they have been Sowing all along a pious Life.  
And this (Sophronia) brings into my mind a consideration, which being taken from the very nature of a Deathbed Repentance, should methinks very much deter Men from resolving before hand to rely on it; And it is this, That granting those (Socians, and others) to be mistaken, that think so late a Repentance to come too late to be available; yet the Dying Sinner, though he may be kept from despair of passing to Heaven, can scarce in an ordinary way have a comfortable assurance of getting thither! For though it be said, That a true Repentance cannot come too late, yet it is a hard thing to be certain, that so late a Repentance is true. Since Repentance confessedly importeth an abandoning and renouncing of Sin, at least in Hearty purpose and resolution; 'tis very difficult for an habitual Sinner, that remembers what vows and purposes of change of Life, Sicknesses or Dangers have formerly induced him to make, which were forgotten, or violated, when the apprehensions that occasioned them were over; 'tis hard I say for such a One to be sure, that his present Repentance is not of the same ignoble and uncurrent kind, since he has no Experience to satisfy him that it would be ordinarily, though not constantly, prevalent over the opposite Temptations; and since also (which is mainly to be considered) 'tis so easy for a Man to mistake for the true hatred of Sin, and the love of God, a horror of Sin springing from the present painful sense of the Mischief procured by it, together with the great fear of the approaching Torments that it threatens, and a strong desire of going to Heaven, when seeing himself unable to stay any longer on Earth, he must get thither to escape Hell. And as it is thus difficult, when a Man already feels much Punishment for Sin, and sees himself in danger of more, to discern clearly upon what account it is, that he is sorry for what he has committed; so it must be certainly a state unspeakably anxious and uncomfortable to find one's self dragged to the Grave, without knowing whether the last Trumpet shall call him thence to Heaven, or to Hell: And if he should be deceived in judging of the Validity of his Repentance, the fatal error would be remediless, and the mistake far sadder and more horrid than that of the Syrians, who, when they thought they were arrived Victorious at Dothan, found themselves at the mercy of their Enemies in Samaria, 2 Kings 6. 18. To conclude, (Sophronia) he that resolves not to renounce his Sins, till he thinks Christ ready to renounce him for them, may very probably lose his Soul, and has most certainly lost his Ingenuity; and that will appear a very sad loss for a Man, that being by Death denied the opportunities of actually leading a new and pious Life, must derive his comfort from the assurance that he sincerely intends it.   

MEDITATION XIV.  
Upon the Apprehensions of a Relapse.  
I Have now at length, Eusebia, by the goodness of God, regained that measure of Health, which makes the Doctor allow me to return to my former Studies, and Recreations, and Diet; and in a word, to my wont course of Life, so that the Physician having dismissed himself, nothing seems more seasonable and pertinent to my present Condition, than that of our Saviour to the Paralytic Man, to whom he gave both Recovery, and an Admonition, which, if he obeyed, he found the more advantageous of the two; Behold, thou art made whole, Sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee. But I am not so free from the apprehensions of an Ague, as my Friends think me from the danger of it: For having sadly Experienced the uneasiness of Sickness, I am thereby brought, though at no easy Rate, to set a high Value upon Health, and be a very Jealous Preserver of so great a Blessing; and those petty Chilnesses that formerly I regarded not, but was apt to impute to nothing but Fumes of the Spleen, or Melancholy Vapours, are now able to give me hot Alarms, and make me apt to fancy them the forerunners, if not the beginners, of the Cold fit of an Ague, the first Invasion of that Disease having been preceded by the like Distempers; and accordingly, I carefully avoid the least Irregularities in point of Diet, or of any other kind that may any ways endanger a Relapse into the Disease that once handled me so ill. But why should I be more apprehensive for my Body than my Mind; and if at any time (as it may but too often happen) any Sin should come to be prevalent in my Mind, why should I not be solicitously afraid of all the occasions and approaches of it, and tremble at these Commotions of the Appetite, which would not else perhaps be formidable to me, in case I have found that such Beginnings indulged or neglected have ended in actual Sin, the real Disease of the Soul; and as dangerous Sicknesses do for the most part leave a crazy Disposition behind them, which threatens Relapses, so Sins once prevalent, though afterwards suppressed, do yet leave behind them a secret Disposition or Propensity to the Repetition of the same faults; and as 'tis less difficult to find examples of Bodily Diseases, than of Spiritual ones, where the Patient is protected from Relapses, so I think we should be more watchful against falling back into the Sins, than into the Sicknesses, we have once found ourselves subject to, unless we would think, that a greater Danger, and of a Nobler part, deserved less of our care.   

MEDITATION XV.  
Upon his Reviewing and Tacking together the several Bills filled up in the Apothecary's Shop.  
EIther my Curiosity, Sophronia, or my Value of Health, has made it my Custom, when I have passed through a course of Physic, to review the particulars it consisted of; That taking notice by what Remedies I found most good, and by what, little or none; if I should fall into the like Distemper for the future, I might derive some advantage from my past Experience. In compliance with this Custom, as I was this Day reviewing and putting together the Doctor's several Prescriptions sent me back by the Apothecary; Good God said I, in myself, what a multitude of unpleasant Medicines have I been ordered to take: The very Numbering, and Reading them were able to Discompose me, and make me almost Sick, though the taking of them helped to make me Well. And certainly, if when I was about to enter into a course of Physic, all these loathsome Medicines, and uneasy Prescriptions, had been presented to me together, as things I must take, and comply with, I should have utterly despaired of a Recovery that must be so obtained, and should not perhaps have undertaken so difficult and tedious a Work, out of an apprehension that it would prove impossible for me to go thorough with it. Thus when a Man considers the Duties, and the Mortifications, that are requisite to a recovery out of a state of Sin, into a state of Grace, he must be resolute enough, if he be not deterred from undertaking the conditions that Piety requires, by so many and great difficulties as will present themselves to his affrighted Imagination: But let not this make him Despondent; for 'tis true, that these discomposing Medicines, if I must have taken so much as a tenth part of them in one Day, would have either dispatched me, or disabled me to endure the taking any the next. But then, although I now see these troublesome Prescriptions all at once, I did not use them so, but took only one or two harsh Remedies in one Day, and thereby was enabled to bear them, especially being assisted by moderate intervals of Respite, and supported both by other seasonable Cordials, and by that highest Cordial, the Hope that the use of these troublesome means of Recovery would soon free me from the need of them. And thus, though the hardships of Piety are, by the Ghostly and Carnal enemies of it, wont to be represented to one that begins to grow a Convert, so great and formidable a Multitude as to be insuperable; yet if he consider, that though his foresight meet with them all at once, yet he will need to grapple with them but one after another, and may be as well able to overcome a Temptation this Day, or to Morrow, as he did another Yesterday: So that to this case also may in some sense be applied, that (either Counsel, or Precept) of our Saviour, not to be solicitous for to Morrow, but to charge no more upon a Day than the trouble that belongs to it. And if he considers too, That as a wise Physician has always a great care, that his Remedies be not disproportionate to the Patient's Strength, and after harsh Physic to relieve him with Cordials, so God will not suffer those that intrust themselves to him to be tempted above what they are able; but will allow them Cordials after their Sufferings, in case he do not turn the Sufferings themselves into Cordials. If (I say) our new Convert shall consider things of this Nature, he will not be much discouraged by the appearance of difficulties, that will as much ennoble and endear his success, as they can oppose it; and he will never despair of Victory in an engagement, where he may justly hope to have God for his Second, and Heaven for his Reward.    

OCCASIONAL REFLECTIONS.  
The III. SECTION.  

REFLECTION I.  
Upon the sight of some variously Coloured Clouds.  
THere is amongst us a sort of vain and flaunting Grandees, who for their own Unhappiness, and their Age's, do but too much resemble these painted Clouds; for both the one and other are Elevated to a Station, that makes most Men look upon them, as far above them; and their Conspicuousness is often increased by the bright Sunshine of the Prince's favour, which, though it really leaves them Creatures of the same frail Nature that it found them of▪ does yet give them a Lustre and a Gawdiness, that much attracts the Eyes, and perhaps the Envy and Respect of those superficial Gazers upon things, that are wont to be Amused, if not Dazzled, with their insignificant Outsides. But the Parallel holds further; for as, in spite of these Clouds sublimity and conspicuousness, they are but Aery and Unsolid things, consisting of Vapours, and steered by every Wind: So the fine People I am comparing them too, in spite of their Exaltation, and of all the Show they make, are really but slight Persons, destitute of intrinsic and solid worth, and guided either by their own blind Lusts, and Passions, or else by Interests as fickle as those, (to which it will be no addition to say) or as variable as the Wind. And as these Clouds, though they seem Vast as well as High, and are perhaps able, for a while, to make the Sky somewhat Dark, have usually but a short duration, and either quickly fall down in Rain, or are quite dissipated, and made to disappear: So these Titled persons, what Show soever their Greatness makes, do oftentimes, either by a voluntary Humility and Repentance, as it were, descend of their own accord, and, by doing of good, endeavour to expiate and make amends for their former Uselessness, if not Mischiefs; or else, after having been for a while stared at, they do (some of them more slowly, and some more abruptly) vanish, without leaving behind them any thing that can so much as entertain our Sight in the very place, where before they Ingross'd it: And this Ruin sometimes happens to the most Elevated persons, from that very Prince, whose favour made them attract so many Eyes; as Clouds are oftentimes dispersed before Night, by the same Sun that had raised and gilded them in the Morning.   

REFLECTION II.  
Upon his making of a Fire.  
HOW many fruitless Blasts have I been spending upon this sullen Fire! 'Twas not, though, the Greenness of this Wood▪ that made it so uneasy to be Kindled; but, 'twas alone the greatness of the Logs, on which the Fire could take no hold, but by the intervention of such smaller Sticks as were at first wanting here: Witness▪ that I had no sooner laid on a little Brush-wood, but the Flame, from those kindled twigs, invading and prevailing on the Billets▪ grew suddenly great enough to threaten to make the House itself part of its Fuel, and turn it to such Ashes as it makes haste to reduce the Wood into. Methinks the blaze of this Fire should light me to discern something instructive in it: These Blocks may represent our Necessary, these Sticks our less important, Religious practices, and this aspiring Flame, the subtle Inhabitor of that of Hell. 'Twil be but succeslesly, that the Devil can attempt our grand Resolves, till he have first Mastered our less considerable ones; and made his successes against these, not only Degrees, but Instruments, in the Destroying of the other: Our more neglected and seemingly trivial Affections, having once received his Fiery impressions, do easily impart them to higher Faculties, and serve to Kindle solider Materials. It is therefore the safest way, to be faithful even to our lesser Determinations, and watchful over our less predominant Passions, and whensoever we find ourselves tempted to violate the former, or neglect the latter, not so barely to cast one Eye upon the seeming inconsiderableness of what we are enticed to, as not to fix the other upon the Consequences that may attend it; and therein, to consider the importance of what such slighted things may, as they are managed, prove Instrumental, either to endanger, or preserve.   

REFLECTION III.  
Upon my Spaniell's Carefulness not to lose me in a strange place.  
DUring my stay at Home, whilst every Body this Cur chanced to meet, made so much of their Landlord's Spaniel, that they seemed to have added to Oracles that Proverb of Love me, love my Dog, the cajoled Cur would never keep at home; but being welcomed to so many places abroad, made me few Visits, that cost me not the trouble of sending for him. But now, that we are in a place, where he sees not more Men than Strangers, he stirs not from my Heels, and waits so close, and carefully, that it were now more difficult to lose him, than it was formerly to keep him from wand'ring. Thus doth it generally fare with us; whilst we are Environed with numerous outward Objects, which, smiling on us, give our Gadding to them, the Temptation of an inviting welcome; how inclined are we to forget and wander from our great Master: But when we are deprived of those Enveigling Courters, our Maker too is freed from those seducing Rivals, and our undistracted Affections are brought to settle on their noblest Object, by the removal, and the displacing, as well as they would be by the Knowledge and the Undervaluation, of inferior ones. Lord! when I lose a Friend, or any outward Idol of my Fondness, teach me to reduce him to leave thee his Heir, by taking that loss for a Summons, to transfer and settle my whole Love on Thee; and if Thou but vouchsafe to make me so happy, I shall think myself enough so, not to Envy him, to whom the loss of his Asses proved an occasion of his finding a Crown; and shall not so much Regret what thy Dispensations shall have taken from me, as Gratulate to myself their having reduced me unto Thee.   

REFLECTION IU.  
Upon the prodigiously wet Wether, which happened the Summer that Colchester was Besieged. (1648.)  
HOw strangely unseasonable is this Melancholy weather! and how tedious a Winter have we endured this Summer? More than these few last Weeks have not afforded us half as many Days, wherein we were neither troubled with Showry, or threatened by Cloudy, weather; and we in England have great Temptations to envy Nature's Kindness unto Rhodes, 
At Rhodes the Air is never so Dim and Cloudy, but one hour or other the Sun shineth out, Pliny, l. 2. c. 62. Where he also says the same of Syracuse.  if it be true what Geographers relate of that Island, that 'tis a Rarity for the Inhabitants to see a Day pass without their seeing the Sun: For among us, the Confusions of our Country seem to have infected our very Air, and Serenity is as great a Rarity in the Sky, as in Men's Consciences; so that those, who are wont to make Fires, not against Winter, but against Cold, have generally displaced the florid, and the verdant Ornaments of their Chimneys, and think Vulcan more proper there than Flora; and some begin to doubt, whether our Almanacs be not mistaken, by calling this Month July instead of November. But notwithstanding all this appearance of Winter above our Heads, yet whilst we see, that Cherries, and Strawberries, and other Summer fruits, do grow, and, though but slowly, make a Progress towards Maturity in our Orchards, we doubt not that 'tis Summer, and expect that these Fruits, though they will not be Early ones, will at length come to be Ripe ones.  
Thus, for Reasons, which, though we know not yet, our knowing of God may assure us to be both Wise, and Just, a pious Soul may sometimes be reduced to so sad a Condition, that the Face of Heaven does to Her appear perpetually overcast; and the Tokens of God's Displeasure do so closely follow one another, that, to borrow Solomon's Phrase, The Clouds return after the Rain: But if, notwithstanding all this, the seemingly deserted Soul, do, like the good Ground mentioned in the Gospel, bring forth Fruit with Perseverance; if Prayer, Charity, Resignation, and those other Divine Graces, that are wont to be the proper and genuine Productions of God's Spirit, do flourish, and prosper in the Soul, we may safely conclude that Soul, though never so Disconsolate, to be in the state of Grace, and that she really receives the blessed Assistances of Him, who can alone give the Increase (to the Seeds of Piety and Virtue) though not in the glad and conspicuous way of an unclouded Heaven, yet in the effectual, though secret, Method of fructifying Influences; and we may reasonably hope, That He that has not only begun a good Work, but carried it on thorough such Impediments, and Disadvantages, will perfect it, by bringing the slow, but yet gradually, ripening Fruit to the due Perfection: For those that are the humble Christian's proper Graces do so much depend upon the Author, that, if they Flourish, his hiding himself in Clouds need not make us doubt the Fruits we see, to be the Productions of the Son of Righteousness, though we see Him not. We must not hastily conclude it Winter with the Soul, though the Heaven be Lowering, provided the Earth be Fruitful; but remember, that the saving Influence of God's Spirit may be, where his comfortable Presence is not perceived: The Living in sensible Comforts and Joys, is rather a part of our Reward, than of our Duty; and that (consequently) it may save many Modest and Pious persons a great deal of Disquiet, if they would learn to judge of their Spiritual condition, rather by the Duties, and Services, they pay God, than by the present Consolations he vouchsafes Them; or, in a word, rather by what they do, than by what they feel.   

REFLECTION V.  
Upon his being Carved to at a Feast.  
Thorough many hands hath this Plate passed, before it came to mine; and yet, though I bowed to every one of those that helped to Convey it, I kept my chief and solemnest Acknowledgement for the fair Lady that sent it. Why shouldst thou not, O my Soul, instruct thy Gratitude to tread in the steps of thy Civility? When thou receivest any Blessing from that Father of Lights, from whom every good and perfect Gift comes down, pay a fitting share of thy thanks to them that hand it to thee; but thorough all those means, look principally to that God that sends it: Let not the Pipe usurp upon the Spring, (that were as absurd, as 'twere for me to Kiss my hand to the Plate, or at best, to those that helped to convey it, with a neglect of the Lady) but so pay thy due Acknowledgement to the Reachers, that thou be sure to reserve thy principal Thanks, and highest strains of Gratitude, for the Giver.   

REFLECTION VI.  
Upon the sight of a Looking-glass, with a rich Frame.  Eugenius, Lindamor, Eusebius. Lind. 
THis Glass, has a Frame so curious, and so rich, that though I could scarce, if I would, withhold my Eyes from Gazing here; yet, I believe, the Operation it has on my Curiosity, is no more than what it generally has on that of others; and by the attention with which I saw, even you, gentlemans, survey it, I am easily persuaded, that one needs not be a Lady, not to pass by such a Looking-glass without repairing to it.  Eug. 
I am much of your opinion, Lindamor, and such a sight as this has often made me a greater Friend, than many severer Persons are, to Eloquence in Sermons: For as if this very Glass had been placed here in a mean or common Frame, it would scarce have stopped us in our Passage through the Room, or have invited us to consult it; so a Sermon, may, by the nicer sort of Auditors, be left unregarded, though it be for Substance excellent: When, as the Frame, though it be not part of the Glass, nor shows us any part of our Faces, does yet, by its curious Work-manship, attract our Eyes, and so invite us to consult the Glass, that is held forth in it; so the Wit, and fine Language, wherein it is Dressed up, though it be no Essential or Theological part of the Sermon, yet it is often that which invites Men to hear, or read it.  Lind. 
I think indeed, Eugenius, that Wit and Eloquence do highly recommend Sermons, and devout Composures, to the Curiosity and Attention of some, that else would scarcely mind them; and upon that account, I allow of your Comparison, but give me leave to carry it on a little further, by observing, That as the curious Frame doth as well please, as attract, the Eye, without representing to it the lively Image of the beholder's Face; so the fine Expressions you applaud, are commonly parts of a Sermon that have no specular Virtue in them, I mean, that have no Power, like a good Looking-glass, to acquaint the Beholder with the true Image or Representation of his own Complexion, and Features: Nor will this Gaudy frame show him what is otherwise than it should be, the discovery of which, nevertheless, in order to the rectifying what is amiss, is the principal and genuine use of a Looking-glass; and therefore, as no skilful Man will judge of the goodness of a Glass, by the fineness of the Frame, but rather by its giving him a true Representation of his Face, without liking it the worse, for showing him its Moles, and Warts, or other Blemishes, if it have any; so no wise Christian will judge of a rousing Sermon, rather by the Language, than the Divinity, or will think the worse of a good Book, for discovering his Faults, or making him think the worse of his own, or other Men's, ill courses.  Euseb. 
Let me add, Gentlemen, that as when a Glass has a rich and gaudy Frame, Child's Eyes are oftentimes so entertained and amused with it, that they are regardless of any thing else; and for the sake of that part, which they can but see, they are unmindful to consult that usefuller part, whose Office it is, to discover to them, themselves: So, when there is too much of Rhetoric in a Sermon, many, that should not be Children, have their Attention, not only so attracted, but so detained, by that, that they are not thereby invited to consult, but diverted from regarding, the more instructive part of the Discourse. And the more Witty and Critical sort of Auditors, are so much more accustomed to judge of Sermons, than to judge of themselves by them, that they deal with them, as if, in this Glass, a Man should only praise or discommend the Work-man-ship of the umbossed Images of the Frame, without caring to make use of the Glass itself, to mend any thing he finds out of order about him: For thus, these Fastidious and Censorious hearers, make no other Use nor Repetition of Sermons, than to censure or applaud the Expressions, and Contrivance, (which should be looked upon but as the Ornaments of it) without minding the Doctrine, or caring to amend what that has discovered to be amiss in them. But it must be confessed, though I must Grieve and Blush, it can be truly so, that it is but too often, as the Scripture somewhere complains, like People, like Priest; and that there is a sort of Preachers, and those of the most Celebrated, who take a Course more likely to encourage, than reform, such Hearers, and which would, perhaps, make Men such, if it did not find them so: For one of this sort of Preachers (for I am loath to call them Divines) appears more solicitous to make his Expressions, than to make his Hearers, good. And whereas, these that are concerned for the winning, or the saving, of Souls, think it a less sure sign of a good Sermon, that it makes the Hearers applaud the Preacher, than that it makes them condemn themselves: The Orator I am mentioning, had much rather hear their Praises, than their Sighs; and accordingly, is more solicitous to tickle their Ears, than, how much need soever there be of it, to lance their Consciences: He may, with far more Truth than Piety, invert the Profession of Saint Paul, and say, that he Preaches not Christ crucified, but himself; and though now and then he seem very Vehemently to declaim against Vices, yet one may easily enough perceive, that 'tis but a personated Anger, and that he rather fences with Sin, than is concerned to Destroy it, and speaks against it rather to show Skill, than to exercise Hatred; and as he affects to appear rather an Orator, than a Divine, so he is well enough content, his Auditors should rather admire his good Language, than follow his best Counsel: And, as if all that belongs to Ministers, and their Flocks, could be performed in the Pulpit, and the Pew, he is more careful to remember his Sermons before he has delivered them, than to keep his Auditors from forgetting them afterwards; and unconcerned for their Proficiency, seeks but their Praises, scarce ever aiming at so much as his own Discharge. In a word, in such kind of Sermons, there is little spoken, either from the Heart, or to the Heart; the Orator and the Auditory tacitly agreeing to deceive themselves; and the Conversion of Sinners, being neither the effect, nor the aim, of such florid, but unedifying, Discourses, the business is translated on both sides, as if the Preacher thought he had done his part, when he has shown his Wit, and the Hearers thought they had done theirs, when they have commended it.   

REFLECTION VII.  
Upon my Spaniell's fetching me my Glove.  
POor Cur! How importunate is he to be employed about bringing me this Glove? and with what Clamours, and how many Fawn, does he court me to fling it him? I never saw him so eager for a piece of Meat, as I find him for a Glove: And yet he knows it is no Food for him, nor is it Hunger that creates his Longings for it; for now I have cast it him, he does nothing else with it, but (with a kind of Pride to be sent for it, and a satisfaction which his glad Gestures make appear so Great, that the very use of Speech would not enable him to express it better) brings it me back again; as he meant to show me, he desired it not to keep it for himself, but only to have it in his power, to return it as a present to his Master. But he must not bring me thus an empty Glove; it is in thee, my Soul, to fill this Accident with Instruction, by learning from Religion, as disinteressed a Behaviour towards God, as Nature taught this Brute Creature towards me. I will in my addresses, for Externals, less earnestly implore them for the service they may do me, than for the service I may do God with them; and (as Prince's Commands are looked upon by Courtiers as Honours, and as Favours) contenting myself with the Satisfaction of being trusted, and employed by Him, I will rejoice at the liberaller Expressions of his Love, as they may be improved into proportionable Expressions of mine, and will beg no Largess of his Bounty, without a design of referring it to his Glory.   

REFLECTION VIII.  
Upon the taking up his Horses from Grass, and giving them Oats before they were to be Ridden a Journey.  
JUst so does God usually deal with his Servants; when he vouchsafes them extraordinary Measures of Grace, they are to look for Employments that will exercise it, or Temptations that will try it.  
Thus that great Captain of our Salvation, Heb. 12. 2. whom the Scripture so much and so deservedly exhorts us to have our Eyes on, When at his solemn Inauguration into his Prophetic Office, the Heavens were opened, from whence the Spirit of God did in a Bodily shape, descend like a Dove upon him, accompanied with a Heavenly Voice, proclaiming him the Beloved Son of God, in whom the Father is well pleased, Matth. 4. Then, I say, that is (as Saint Mark tells us) immediately, 
Merit 1. 12.  Jesus (being, as another Evangelist has it, full of the Holy Ghost, Luk. 4. 1.) was led up of the Spirit into the Wilderness to be Tempted of the Devil. That wise and merciful Disposer of all things, who will not suffer his Children to be Tempted above what they are able, seasonably fortifies them by these preparatory Provisions and Consolations, for the Labours and Difficulties they are to be exposed to. But whereas, if these Horses had reason wherewith to foresee the Journey in order whereunto the Provender is so plentifully given them, they would (if not be troubled at their good Cheer) at least lose much of the Pleasure of it, by thinking of the Labour to ensue; with the Servants of God the case is much otherwise. For such is his Goodness to those he is pleased thus to deal with, in proposing and reserving them a Crown in some sort proportionate to, and yet inestimably outvaluing, the Toils and Difficulties requisite to obtain it; that as advantageous, and as welcome as his Preparatory Vouchsafements can be, the pious Soul may well think them less Favours upon their own Account, than as they enable the Receiver to do the more Service to the Giver.   

REFLECTION IX.  
Upon the making of a Fire with Charcoal.  
THose that Lust fascinates are apt to imagine, that if they can suppress its visible Effects, and sensible Heat, that will be sufficient to free them from all the Mischiefs, they need fear from it: But Lust is so pernicious a Guest, that not only he is very watchful to intrude again where he has once been entertained, but, notwithstanding his Absence, he may continue to do Mischief to those that seem to have quite expelled him. For as Wood that is once thoroughly set on Fire, may afterwards have that Fire quite choked, and extinguished, and yet by those changes be turned into Charcoal, whereby it is not only made Black, but disposed to be far more easily Kindled, and Consumed than before; so those, who have once had their Hearts thoroughly possessed by the pernicious Flames of Lust, (which is indeed, to employ an inspired Expression, to be set on Fire of Hell) even when they have stifled these criminal Flames, and feel no more of their Heat, may not only have their Reputation irrecoverably blemished by what is past, but commonly carry about with them an unhappy Disposition to be re-inflamed, and to have by a few Sparks, and a little Blowing, those destructive Fires so rekindled, as to Rage more fatally than ever.   

REFLECTION. X.  
Looking through a Prismatical or Triangular Glass.  
THis more than flattering Glass, adorns all the Objects I look on thorough it, with a Variety of Colours, whose Vividness does as much charm my Sense, as their Nature poses my Reason; Without the help of the Sun, and Clouds, it affords me as many Rain-bows as I please. And not only when I look on Trees, and Meadows, and Gardens, and such other Objects that are of themselves acceptable to the Sight; this Glass lends them Ornaments above any they are beholden for, either to Nature, or Art: But when I cast my Eyes upon courser, and homely things, and even on Dunghills, this favourable Interposer presents them to me in such curious and gaudy Colours, that it does not so properly hide their Deformities, as make them appear Lovely; so that which way soever I turn my Eyes, I find them saluted, as if I were in some Rich Jeweller's Shop, with Saphires, Topazes, Emerauds, and other Orient Gems, the Vividness of whose Colours, may justify those that think Colours to be but disguised Light, which, by these various Reflections, and Refractions, comes to be rather Died than Stained.  
But this Glass must as well afford me Instruction, as Delight, and even by deceiving me, teach me: For thus, sinful Christians, when God looks upon them in themselves, must needs seem too Polluted, and Disfigured, not to appear Loathsome to Him, Who is of purer Eyes than to behold Inquity without Abhorrency; but when Christ interposes betwixt his Eyes and Us, we then seem far other things than otherwise we should, and not only we do not appear Filthy, but we do appear Lovely, if not Glorious. And as though, some Objects, as things purely White, and Flames, look better through this Glass, than homely and dirty ones; yet even these, looked upon through this Glass, are more Richly adorned, than the others beheld without it: So, whatever Difference there may be betwixt Persons that are either Innocent, or Exemplary, upon the bare account of Morality; and those ignorant or frail Children of God, that, in themselves considered, would be much inferior to those newly mentioned; yet when these are looked upon thorough Christ, they are much more acceptable in God's Eyes, than the others considered out of him. And I shall add this further, that, whereas my looking upon Objects through the Prism, however it makes them appear to my Eyes, does work no real Change in the things themselves, but leaves those that were homely and foul before, foul and homely still; God's gracious looking upon us in Christ, makes us by degrees become fit for his Goodness to take delight in, and has an improving and transfiguring Power on us, like the Sun, that cherishes Green and unblown Flowers, and paints them with their curiousest Colours, by his looking on them. Since then, the Scripture tells us, that we are not only reconciled to God, but, if I may so express it, are ingratiated and endeared to him in the Beloved; How much do we owe to that blessed Saviour, upon whose Account we enjoy the invaluable Privilege to appear (and grow fit to do so) pleasing in God's Eyes? which besides, that it is the highest Honour, leads to the highest Happiness; or rather, is the one as well as the other.    

OCCASIONAL REFLECTIONS.  
The IV. SECTION. Which treats of Angling Improved To Spiritual Uses.  

DISCOURSE I.  
Upon the being called upon to rise early on a very fair Morning.  
THe Sun had as yet but approached the East, and my Body as yet lay moveless in the Bed, whilst my roving Thoughts were in various Dreams, rambling to distant places, when, me-thought, I heard my name several times pronounced by a not unknown Voice; This noise made me, as I was soon after told, half open my Eyes, to see who it was that made it, but so faintly, that I had quickly let myself fall asleep gaain, if the same Party had not the second time called me louder than before, and added to his Voice the pulling me by the Arm. But though this waked me so far, as to make me take notice that I was called upon to rise, yet my Drowsiness, and my Unwillingness to forgo a not unpleasant Dream, keeping me from discerning distinctly, who it was that called me, made me briskly enough bid him, what ever his business were, let me alone; But though at the same time I turned away my Head to shun the Light, though dim, which at the half opened Curtain shone in upon me, yet the Party instead of complying with my desires, did by throwing open the Curtains, further let in so much more Light upon my Face, that finding it would not serve my turn to keep my Eyes shut, I opened them to see who it was that gave me this unwelcome Disturbance. This I had no sooner done, than I perceived that 'twas Eusebius, who with Lindamor, and two or three other Friends, was come to call me to go a Fishing, to a place, where by appointment we were to meet about Sunrising. The respect I paid Eusebius, and the value I placed upon his Conversation, covered me with Blushes to be thus surprised by him, and obliged me to satisfy him as well as I could, how much I was troubled and ashamed to have the favour of his Company brought me to my Bedside, which I ought, and intended to have waited on him. And thus, whilst I was making him my Apologies, and he was pleasantly reproaching me for my Laziness, and Laughing at the disorder I had not yet got quite out of, I made a shift hastily to get on my clothes, and put myself into a condition of attending him and the Company to the Riverside.  
Whilst we were walking thither-ward, and Lindamor was minding Eusebius of the promise he had made the Day before, to exercise, upon most of the things that should occur to us, his Art of making Occasional Reflections, I was delighting myself with the deliciousness of that promising Morning, and indeed the freshness of the Air, the verdure of the Fields and Trees, and the various and curious Enammel of the Meadows, the Music of the numerous Birds, that with as melodious as cheerful Voices welcomed so fair a morning. The curious and orient Colours wherewith the rising Sun embellished the Eastern part of the Sky, and above all that source of Light, who, though he shows us all that we see of glorious and fair, shows us nothing so fair and glorious as himself, did so charm and transport me, that I could not hold expressing my satisfaction in terms that, Eugenius was after pleased to say, needed not Rhymes to make them Poetical. And the sense of this invited me to add, that I now would not for any thing have missed being waked, and thought myself hugely obliged to Eusebius' freedom, that would not suffer me to sleep out so glorious a Morning, nor lose the satisfaction of such desirable Company.  
Eusebius, who was but a little way off in discourse with Lindamor, overhearing a good part of what I had said, thought fit to take thence a Rise, to begin complying with his Friends requests, and accordingly, walking up towards me, and addressing himself to me, he told me, you are unconcerned enough, Philaretus, in what I am about to say, to make it allowable for me to tell Lindamor, that what has this Morning happened to you, puts me in mind of what I have several times observed on another occasion. For when a Man is so lulled asleep by sensual pleasures, that like one that sleeps, he has but the faculty, not the exercise of Reason, and takes his Dreams for realities, if some serious Divine, or other devout Friend, concerned for the Sinner's soul, or his glory that Died to redeem it, endeavour to awaken him, and rouse him out of that State wherein he lies so much at ease; such attempts are wont at first to be looked upon by the lazy Sinner, enamoured of his ease, and present condition, but as pieces of unseasonable, if not uncivil officiousness, and entertaining the Light itself but as an unwelcome Guest, he obstinately shuts his Eyes against that which alone makes them useful, and instead of looking upon the Attempter as his Friend, he checks him, and expostulates with him, and uses him almost as an Enemy; Insomuch, that too often those that love the welfare of Souls too little, or their own ease too much, forgo, with their hopes, their endeavours to reclaim him. But if by God's blessing, upon the constancy of this kindness, and the letting in of so much Light upon the Sinner, that he finds himself unable to continue his Slumber any longer with it, he comes to be thoroughly awaked, he quickly grows sensible that he is brought out of the Kingdom of Darkness into a true and marvellous Light, and instead of those empty fleeting Dreams, which did before amuse and delude him, and which to relish, and be fond of, the Eyes of his Mind must be as well closed as those of his Body, he is admitted to noble and manly entertainments, such as Reason chooses, Conscience applauds, and God himself approves. And this change of his condition he finds so advantageous, that he would not for all the World return again to that, he was at first so angry to be dissuaded from, and he does not forgive, but thank the Person that disquieted him, and blushes at the Remembrance of his having reduced others to importune him to be happy: And betwixt shame and gratitude, the sense of his present, and of his past condition possessing him, how much he has reason to make his Rescuer as well amends for what he endured, as retributing for what he acted for him, he does perchance, especially in the first fervours of his Zeal, think himself as much obliged to his Awakener, as Philemon was to Saint Paul, to whom the Scripture says, that he owed even himself. And sometimes such a new Convert, as I am speaking of, will think his Obligation to the Instrument of his change so suitable to the transcendent satisfaction he finds in the change itself, that he would despair of seeing his Benefactor sufficiently recompensed, if he did not remember a saying of the Prophet, (That those that turn others to Righteousness, shall shine as the Stars for ever and ever,) that gives him ground to hope that God himself (whose plenty as well as bounty is inexhausted) will make the Recompense his work. Wherefore, concludes Eusebius, if you chance to have any Friends, (as 'tis odds most Men have) that stand in need of this as great as unwelcome expression of kindness, let us not be too soon discouraged, by finding the effects of our friendship coldly received, and possibly too looked upon as disturbances; for besides, that the less they are desired, and the worse they are entertained, the more they needed: a Christian is not bound so much to concern himself in the success of his endeavours, as to leave it in the power of every one that will be obstinate, to make him unhappy, when the business one way or other come to an end, he may miss his aim, without losing his labour, since he serves a Master that is as ready to reward, as able to discern Intentions; and in case your endeavours do succeed, you will at once make a Man your Friend, and worthy to be so. And you shall scarce ever find Men more affectionate to you, than those you have made your Friends, by making them Enemies to Vice.   

DISCOURSE II.  
Upon the Mounting, Singing, and Lighting of Larks.  
THe agreement we had made at our setting forth, that the motion of our Tongues should not hinder that of our Feet towards the Riverside, was the cause, that the past Discourses not having discontinued our Walk, by that time they were ended, we began to Traverse certain plow'd Lands, that lay in the way betwixt us and the River. But we had scarce entered those Fields, when our Ears were saluted with the melodious Music of a good number of Larks, whereof some mounted by degrees out of Sight, and others hover and singing a while over our Heads, soon after lighted on the ground, not far from our Feet.  
After we had a while enjoyed this costless, and yet excellent Music, both Eusebius and I, chancing to cast our Eyes towards Eugenius, observed that his did very attentively wait upon the motions of a Lark, that, singing all the way upwards, and mounting by degrees out of sight, not long after descended and lighted among some clods of Earth, which being of the colour of her Body, made us quickly loose sight of her. Whereupon Eusebius, who was full as willing to hear as speak, and in the Occasional Reflections that he made, was wont at least as much to aim at the exciting others thoughts, as the venting of his own, begged Eugenius to tell us what it might be, which his attentiveness to the motions of the Lark made us presume he was thinking on.  
Eugenius after a little backwardness, which he thought Modesty exacted of him, soon answered us in these terms.  
Among all Birds that we know, there is not any that seems of so elevated, and I had almost said Heavenly a Nature as the Lark, scarce any give so early and so sweet a welcome to the Springing day. And that which I was just now gazing on, seemed so pleased with the unclouded Light, that she sung as if she came from the place she seemed to go to, and during this charming Song, mounted so high, as if she meant not to stop, till she had reached that Sun, whose Beams so cherished and transported her; and in this aspiring flight she raised herself so high, that though I will not say, she left the Earth beneath her very Sight, yet I may say, that she foared quite out of Ours. And yet when from this towering height she stooped to repose or solace herself upon the Ground, or else when to seize upon some worthless Worm, or other wretched Prey, she lighted on the Ground, she seemed so like the Earth that was about her, that I believe you could scarce discern her from its Clods. And whereas other Birds that fly not half so high, nor seem any thing near so fond of the Sun, do yet build their Nests upon Trees, the Lark does as well build hers upon the Ground, as look like a part of it.  
Thus I have known, in these last and worst times, many a Hypocrite, that when he was conversant about sublimer Objects, appeared, as well as he called himself, a Saint; nothing seemed so welcome to him as new Light; one might think his Lips had been touched with a coal from the Altar, his Mouth did so sweetly show forth God's praise, and sacred dispensations. In sum, take this Hypocrite in his fit of Devotion, and to hear him talk, you would think, that if he had not been already in Heaven, at least he would never leave mounting, till he should get thither.  
But when the Opportunities of advantaging his lower Interests called him down to deal about Secular affairs here below, none appeared more of a piece with the Earth than he, for he looked as if he had been besmeared all over with the Earth round about him, and he seemed, in providing for his Family, to be of a meaner and a lower Spirit, than those very Men whom in discourse he was wont to undervalue, as being far more Earthy than himself.  
Since we know, says Eusebius, that the best things corrupted prove the worst, it can be no disparagement to Piety, to acknowledge that Hypocrisy is a Vice which you cannot too much condemn. And when the pretending of Religion grows to be a thing in request, many betake themselves to a form of Religion, who deny the Power of it; And some perchance, have been preferred less for their jacob's voice, than for their Esau's hands.  
But, Eugenius, let us not to shun one extreme, fond run into the other, and be afraid or ashamed to profess Religion, because some Hypocrites did but profess it; His course is ignoble, and preposterous, that treads the paths of Piety, rather because they lead to Preferment than to Heaven; But yet 'tis more excusable to live free from scandal for an inferior end, than not to live so at all: And Hypocrites can as little justify the profane, as themselves. It may be, that all that own Religion are not Pious; but 'tis certain, that he that scorns to own it must less be so. And if scoffers at Piety should succeed the Pretenders to it, they cannot be said (as sometimes they would be thought) to be an innocent sort of Hypocrites, that are better than they seem; for Scandal is a thing so criminal, and contagious, that whosoever desires, and endeavours to appear evil, is so: To refuse to be Religious, because some have but professed themselves to be so, is to injure God, because he has been injured. A skilful Jeweller will not forbear giving great rates for Necklaces of true Pearl, though there be many Counterfeit for one that is not so; Nor are the right Pearls a whit the less Cordial to those that take them, because the artificial Pearl made at Venice, consisting of Mercury and Glass, for all their fair show, are rather Noxious, than Medicinal. And indeed our knowledge, that there are Hypocrites, ought rather to commend Piety to us, than discredit it with us; since as none would take the pains to counterfeit Pearls, if true ones were not of Value; So Men would not put themselves to the constraint of personating Piety, if that itself were not a noble Quality. Let us then, Eugenius, fly as far as you please from what we detest in Hypocrites: But then let us consider, what it is that we detest; which being a bare, and therefore false pretence to Religion, let us only shun such a pretence, which will be best done by becoming real Possessors of the thing pretended to.   

DISCOURSE III.  
Upon the Sight of a fair Milkmaid singing to her Cow.  
EUgenius, who was not at all indisposed to listen to Exhortations of this Nature, not only embraced this made him by his Friend, but with earnestness enough continued the Conference to explain his meaning, and satisfy Eusebius, that he did not think Piety fit to be discountenanced, though he thought Hypocrisy was so, and that he was no Enemy to the Profession of Religion, but to those that blemished it by unsuitable Practices. And with such kind of Discourses we continued our Walk, till being come to a Style, over which we were to pass out of one Meadow into another, I chanced to stop, and turn about to pay Lindamor the Respect of desiring him to lead me the way over: But not finding him there, I hastily cast my Eyes all over the Field, till at length they discovered him a good way off, in a Posture that seemed extremely serious, and wherein he stood as immovable as a Statue. This sight soon carried me towards him, and I had dispatched half my way before his changing his Posture gave him an opportunity to discover me, which as soon as he did, he immediately came to meet me, and almost before I had asked him the occasion of what I had seen; Whilst (replied he) Eugenius was purging himself from a fault that none that knows him will suspect him to be guilty of, I was detained a little behind you by the Music of one of those Larks, whose melody was so charming, that I could not find in my heart to make haste from it: But whilst I was listening to it, my Attention was diverted by a nobler Object, for I heard, from the further corner of this Meadow, a Voice, which, though not governed with Skill, did so repair the want of it by its native sweetness, that Art was absent without being missed, and I could not but have some Curiosity to see who was the Possessor of so much power to please; turning then my steps towards that part of the Field whence the Voice came, my Eyes quickly ceased to envy my Ears, for they discovered, kneeling by a Cow, and singing to her whilst she milked her, a Person, who, in the habit of a Milkmaid, seemed to disguise one of those Nymphs that Poets are wont to describe us. And that you may not wonder, continues Lindamor, at what I shall say to you of a country Girl, Know, that methought I saw in her Face something more like Hermione, before she proved inconstant, than I expected to find in any of her Sex: I will not tell you, that this fair Creature had the Blushes of the Morning in her Cheeks, the Splendour of the Sun in her Eyes, the freshness of the Fields in her Looks, the whiteness of the Milk she expressed in her Skin, and the melody of the Larks, we were admiring, in her Voice, lest you should think Mr. Boils Seraphic Love had lost its Operation on me. But I may perhaps without much Hyperbole, give you this Account of her, that though her clothes are almost as course as cleanly, and though they are suited to her Condition, yet they are very ill suited to her Beauty, which, as if Nature intended a Triumph over Fortune, has, without any assistance of Ornament, more distressed my Liberty, than others have been able to do with all their most curious Dresses. And this fair Creature, continues Lindamor, as she is rich in Nature's bounty, appeared as well by the cheerfulness of the Tune she sung, as by the manner of her Singing it, so satisfied with the unpurchased Treasures she possesses, that she seemed almost as much pleased as I was to look upon her. This Character of Lindamors inviting me to go see, whether or no it were deserved, and the frequent Experience I have had, that even upon such bright Eyes as Poets, and Lovers, called Suns, I could gaze undazzled enough to approve myself a right Eagle, assuring me I might safely do it, I fearlessly, but softly, approached the place where the fair Milkmaid was soliciting the Udder of a fresh Cow, and I found, that though indeed some Resemblance she had to Hermione, had made Lindamor flatter her, yet she looked at once so innocently, and prettily, that she seemed like to do Mischief, without at all intending it; and I could not but fancy, that if some Ladies that are much cried up, and are very imperious Mistresses, because they are so, were bound to change Dresses with this unsophisticated and unadorned Maid, the one would appear to owe her Beauty to Art, and the other to be beholden for hers to nothing but Nature. But, Lindamor, who is not naturally indisposed to be Amorous, did not think that this Imagination of mine did that pretty Creature right: for when I told him she would eclipse a hundred of our fine Ladies, if she had but the Dress of one of them; Why, that (replies he, with a kind of Indignation) she can do without it, and perhaps, subjoins he, as much as with it: For her present habit leaves her most herself, and Bravery would but disguise, or hide what it cannot adorn. And I am confident, (continues he) that should such a genuine Beauty appear among the Gallants, she would really captivate many, even of those wary ones that do but pretend to be so, to the designing and applauded Ladies: For though Skill may encounter the Wiles of Art, it would scarce be able to resist the Charms of Nature. But whilst Lindamor was thus Complementing with what he fancied the Picture of his once loved Hermione, and had his Eyes as much fixed upon her, as dazzled ones could be, the lovely Milkmaid, (who, all this while having not taken notice of us, was as regardless of Lindamor, as he seemed to be of all things but her) having dispatched what she was doing, took up her Pail to carry it homewards: But her way chancing to lie by that part of the Meadow where we were yet standing, she could not but discover us, and judging by our clothes, and more by Lindamors Mere, that we were of a Quality differing from theirs she was wont to converse with, she gave us a Salute low enough to let us see that she forgot not her Condition, but attended with so much Gracefulness, as made Lindamor conclude she merited a better, and, as she passed by him, to return the gesture of Respect, which he thought so much Beauty had a right in any habit to exact; she vouchsafed him a Smile, which, I after told him, would have made him happy, if he had thought it had proceeded from Kindness, not Civility; and she went away with a Look so serene, as well as taking, that she seemed to carry home with her far more quiet, than she left him possessed of. But I that had lost sight of her, without losing any thing with it, save the expectation of seeing in haste so fair a Milkmaid, was going to railer with Lindamor, about what had passed, when I was restrained, by perceiving that the sight of a Person that seemed so contented, together with the native pleasantness of that place, and of that glorious Morning, had such an operation upon him, that he could not forbear to celebrate the happiness and innocency of a Country life. And after he had with much Transport, and Fluency, repeated the substance of what Ovid and other ancient Poets had in their strain delivered concerning the felicity of the Golden Age, he began to apply as much of it as the Matter would bear, to the recommending of a Rural life, and was very solicitous to make me acknowledge, that though we are wont to look upon Villagers as an inferior and wretched sort of People, yet they are the persons of the World, whose condition is the most proper, not only to keep them innocent, but to make them happy: Their cheap and simple way of Living, allowing them to rest contented, with what bounteous Nature has provided for them, or an easy Industry can procure them. Whereas among Men nobly Born, or Persons of Quality, 'tis looked upon as want of Breeding, for a Man not to think himself unhappy, as long as he hath not a thousand Pound a Year.  
Lindamor, though he here made a Pause to take breath, would yet perhaps have prosecuted his Discourse, had he not been prevented by the intervening of Eusebius, who a while after we had left him, having missed us, had followed us to the palace he found us in, and who, when he drew nigh, having overheard Lindamor speaking, stood still a while at some distance off, to listen to what he said, and so became an unsuspected Auditor of the last part of his Friends Discourse. Whereupon taking him by the hand, and leading him towards the River, he told him, with a serious, not to call it a severe Look; I had thought, Lindamor, you had made righter Estimates of the several courses of Life, than, by what I have newly overheard you say, I now suspect you do. Know then, Lindamor, (adds he) That Innocence and Contentment depend more upon a Man's mind, than upon his condition: To manifest this to you, I shall in the first place observe, that 'tis not always the Occasion, or the Object, but rather the Degree that makes an Affection of the Mind unruly and troublesome; Nor is it according to the intrinsic value of things, which none save the Wise can discern; but the Rate, how unskilfully soever fixed, which we put upon them, that they operate upon our passions. And therefore, you shall see a Child take on more sadly for the escape of a Sparrow, or the breaking of a Rattle, than some will do for the loss of a good Estate, nay, of a Friend; and Haman, for the want of a Bow from Mordecai, complained more in his Place, than Job, till his miserable comforters had exasperated his grief, did for the loss of the biggest Fortune in the East, and of the Children he reserved it for, and valued far above it.  
And then, Lindamor, (continues Eusebius) do not imagine, that though Courtiers and Gallants have more spendid and glittering Temptations to Sin and Discontent, Country people are exempted from Temptation to either: Theirs may be as great, though not the same, nor so specious as the other; their Faults and Infelicities are indeed less taken notice of, because their Persons and Conditions are obscure, and their Poverty conceals their Vices, as well as their Virtues, from our Eyes; as in a sharp Winter the Snow does as well hide their Dunghills, as cover their Gardens. But if your Quality allowed you to acquaint yourself with the true state of this inferior sort of People, you would soon perceive, that even of rural Families, there is scarce any, that, as far as their Wits will reach, has not its several Parties, and little Intrigues; Nor is there any Cottage so low, and narrow, as not to harbour Care, and Malice, and Covetousness, and Envy, if those that dwell in it have a mind to entertain them: And what Envy alone may do to produce Crimes and Discontents, we may conjecture by what happened betwixt Cain and Abel, since their being heirs to the whole World, could not keep two Brothers at peace, whilst one of them was envious: And there are some sordid Vices, which are more incident to the meaner and more necessitous sort of Men, as Spiders and Cobwebs are wont to abound more in thatched Cabins, than in great men's houses. I should perhaps (says Eusebius) think these people happy, if I found they thought themselves so; but the Pomp and Vanities of the World have oftentimes stronger allurements for them, than for the Grandees and Courtiers themselves: For those that are possessed of these imaginary Joys, are disabused by their own Experience; and those that live among these Theatrical persons, are near enough to discern that they are but causelessly envied. As (for my part) when I had occasion to be conversant in great men's Families, and the honour to preach in Prince's Courts, the sight of their course of Life did as thoroughly convince me of the Vanity of the World, as my Sermons endeavoured to convince them. Whereas Country people see but the glittering and deluding outside of Greatness, and beholding it but at a distance, see it in the favourablest light which Men can behold it in, and consequently are strongly tempted to envy what they admire, and repine at their own condition, for the want of it: Nay, every gaudy trifle, that those that live in Towns and Cities chance to make show of, is wont to make a Country man envy, as well as gape; And 'tis odds, but that very Milkmaid, whose condition you are pleased to think so happy, envies some Neighbouring Farmer's Daughter for a piece of taudry Ribbon, or a black Hood: Nor are they so much more privileged from the assaults of Temptation, than Men of higher rank; For 'tis not so much a Man's outward condition, as his inward disposition and temper of mind, that makes Temptations either to sin, or to discontent, prevalent, or unsuccessful. When Joseph was sold into Egypt, and solicited by a Woman that would needs be his Mistress upon more scores than one, though his condition exposed him more to hopes and fears, than almost any other condition could expose another Man, And though his Youth made him very capable of relishing the pleasures that his Beauty made him courted to receive, by giving them; yet this chaste Youth chose rather to be Imprisoned any where, than in a fair Ladies Arms, and preferred the being made a Captive, before the Captivating of his amorous Mistress. But whilst young Joseph was thus chaste in the Egyptian Potiphar's House, his eldest Brother Reuben was Incestuous in good Jacobs whose Family was then the visible Church of God; and Lot, who was chaste and temperate in Sodom itself, was Drunk and committed Incest in a Cave; so much more does the success of Temptations depend upon the temper of a Man's mind, than upon the place he lives in.  
I know not (says Eugenius) whether the Innocence of Rural people be more easy than that of great Men, but sure it is not so commendable: For as a Woman that has never yielded, because she was never solicited, may be called rather Innocent than Virtuous; so their condition, that owe their not being Inveigled by the Vanities of the World, to their Ignorance of them, has more in it of good fortune than of merit. I thank you for that consideration, (subjoins Eusebius) for I confess I think there is a great Disparity betwixt an unacquaintedness with the bewitching pleasures of the World, and a contempt of them. And he is the truly heroic Spirit, that can (as David could) plentifully enjoy all those sensual Delights and Vanities he chose to reject: For he could feast a Nation, and prefer Temperance before all that Abundance; He could gain strange Victories at once over his outward Enemies, and over the Temptations he was exposed to by such successes; He could Build stately Palaces, and then profess himself to be but a Stranger, and a Sojourner upon Earth; He could afford Humility room to sit with him on his Throne, and could listen to her Memento's amidst all the Acclamations of his People, and the Panegyrics of his Courtiers; He was not to be resisted by Beauties, that to others were irresistible, when he postponed the fairest Objects that could here charm his Eyes, to such as were visible only to those of Faith; He had got together the greatest Treasure, that for aught I remember we read of in any History, and yet seems never to have been much pleased with it, but when he dedicated it to the Building of the Temple, and made the fruits of his Valour the oblations of his Piety. To be short, he was the greatest Person upon Earth, when he was content to leave it; and was willing to descend from the Throne into the Grave, whilst he looked upon that as the place whence he must ascend to the Mansion of his God; so much did he, even whilst he wore an earthly Crown, aspire to an Heavely one. And though (continues Eusebius) we must now a days as little expect to meet with a Man of David's condition, as of his temper, yet proportionably we may put a vast Difference betwixt those that but escape the sight of the World's allurements, and those that reject the Proffers of them.  
Eusebius was in this part of his Discourse, when we were come near enough to the River, to discover it within a little way of us: And therefore finding by his silence, that he thought it seasonable to desist, I only ventured to tell him, with a low Voice, as we continued our Walk, that I suspected, that in some of the things he had been saying, he had a design rather to check Lindamor a little, and keep up the Discourse, than to deny, that a retired and rural Life has great advantages towards Contentation: To which, that he might conclude what he had to say, before we reached the River, he made haste to reply in the same Tone, That I was not altogether mistaken: For (says he) I think the case may be pretty well represented, by saying, that as there are some Airs very much wholesomer than others, and fitter to preseve Men from Diseases; so a very private and quiet condition of Life, does much more easily than a more exposed and turbulent one, protect most sorts of Men from Vices and Disquiets. But then on the other side, as there are some Men of such sound and strong Constitutions, that they will enjoy their Health in the worst Airs, when Men of tender and vitiated Complexions will be Sickly in the best; so there are some generous and steady Souls, that will pass thorough the most troublesome and most exposed courses of Life, with more of both Innocence and Contentment, than others can enjoy in a condition far remoter from Disturbances and Temptations. And, annexes Eusebius, (purposely raising his Voice) as for these Villages that Lindamor thought so happy, I must descent from him as long as I see they can admire, and almost worship, a Man for wearing a Gaudy suit of clothes, or having two or three Footmen behind his Coach, before they know whether he be not a Knave, or a Fool, or both: For I shall scarce think, that he, who is himself possessed with Envy, deserves mine.   

DISCOURSE IU.  
Upon Fishing with a counterfeit Fly.  
BEing at length come to the Riverside, we quickly began to fall to the sport, for which we came thither, and Eugenius finding the Fish forward enough to bite, thought fit to spare his Flies, till he might have more need of them, and therefore tied to his Line a Hook, furnished with one of those counterfeit Flies, which in some Neibouring Countries are much used, and which being made of the Feathers of Wildfowl, are not subject to be drenched by the water, whereon those Birds are wont to swim. This Fly being for a pretty while scarce any oftener thrown in, than the Hook it hid was drawn up again with a Fish fastened to it, Eugenius looking on us with a smiling Countenance, seemed to be very proud of his success; which Eusebius taking notice of, Whilst, (says he) we smile to see, how easily you beguile these silly Fishes, that you catch so fast with this false Bait, possibly we are not much less unwary ourselves; And the World's treacherous pleasures do little less delude both me and you: For, Eugenius, (continues he) as the Apostles were Fishers of men in a good sense, so their and our grand adversary is a skilful Fisher of men in a bad sense; And too often in his attempts, to cheat fond Mortals, meets with a success as great and easy, as you now find yours. And certainly, that Tempter, as the Scripture calls him, does sadly delude us, even when we rise at his best Baits, and, as it were, his true Flies: For, alas! the best things he can give, are very worthless, most of them in their own nature, and all of them in comparison of what they must cost us to enjoy them. But however, Riches, Power, and the delights of the Senses are real goods in their Kind, though they be not of the best Kind: Yet alas, many of us are so fitted for deceits, that we do not put this subtle Angler, to make use of his true Baits to catch us! we suffer him to abuse us much more grossly, and to cheat us with empty titles of Honour, or the ensnaring Smiles of great ones, or disquieting Drugeries disguised with the specious names of great employments. And though these, when they must be obtained by sin, or are proposed as the recompenses for it, be, as I was going to say, but the Devils counterfeit Flies; Yet, as if we were fond of being deceived, we greedily swallow the Hook, for Flies, that do but look like such; so Dim-sighted are we, as well to what Vice shows, as to what it hides. Let us not then (concludes Eusebius) rise at Baits, whereby we may be sure to be either grossly, or at least exceedingly deceived; For who ever ventures to commit a Sin, to taste the luscious sweets, that the fruition of it seems to promise, certainly is so far deceived, as to swallow a true Hook for a Bait, which either proves but a counterfeit Fly, or hides that under its alluring show, which makes it not need to be a counterfeit one to deceive him.   

DISCOURSE V.  
Upon a Fishes struggling after having swallowed the Hook.  
FOrtune soon offered Eusebius a fair Opportunity to confirm this last part of his Reflection, for he had scarce made an end of it, when a large Fish, espying the Fly that kept my Hook swimming, rise swiftly at it, and having greedily chopped it up, was hastily swimming away with it, when I struck him, and thereby stopped for a while his Progress; but finding himself both Arrested and Wounded, he struggled with so much violence, that at length he broke my slender Line, (that was fitted but for weaker Fishes) and carried away a part of it, together with the annexed Hook, and Bait. If Philosophers (says hereupon Eusebius) be not too liberal in allowing Brutes to think, we may well suppose that this Fish expected a great deal of Pleasure from the Bait he fell upon so greedily, and that when once he had got it into his Mouth, he might well look upon it as his own, and those other Fishes that saw him swallow it, and swim away with it, did probably envy his good Fortune; but yet indeed he does not enjoy his wish, though he seem to have the thing wished for within his power, for by the same action in which he sucked in the Fly, he likewise took in the Hook, which does so wound and tear his tender Gills, and thereby put him into such restless pain, that no doubt he wishes that the Hook, Bait, and all, were out of his torn Jaws again, the one putting him to too much torture to let him at all relish the other. Thus men, which do what they should not, to obtain any Object of their sensual Desires, whatever Pleasure they may before hand fancy to themselves in their success, are oftentimes, even when they obtain then ends, disappointed of their expectations; sometimes Conscience, Reason, or Honour, making them, even when their desires are not of the worst sort, do as David did, when he had, more vehemently than became a pious General, longed for Water out of the Well at Bethlehem, and by the strange Venterousness of his bold and affectionate Officers obtained it, could not find in his heart to Drink it, but poured it untasted on the Ground. But when the things we so long for must be criminally obtained, than it not only often fares with them, as it did with Amnon, who immediately upon the incestuous fruition of his ravished Sister, hated her more than before he had loved her; but it sometimes happens to those that sin more heinously in this matter, as it did to Judas, who, after having betrayed a Master, that was incomparably more worth than all the World, and thereby for ever lost himself for a few pieces of Silver, seemed to have it in his power, without having it in his will, to enjoy them, and in a desperate, but unseasonable, fit of anguish and remorse, did of his own accord disburden himself of that Money, which he had sold his Conscience to get; so that though he had what he sought, he had not what he expected: And when what he coveted was in his possession, he had the guilt of acquiring it, without the power of enjoying it. And even in cases far less heinous, (concludes Eusebius) when Men seem to have got what they aimed at, and to have carried it away as their Booty, in spite of all opposition, the Wound thereby inflicted on injured Conscience, puts them to so much of deserved pain, that the wishes they are thus criminally possessed of, they do not enjoy, but detest.   

DISCOURSE VI.  
Upon the sight of ones Shadow cast upon the face of a River.  
THe fight of some Fishes playing to and fro upon the top of the Water, diverted us from prosecuting our Conference, and drew us to apply ourselves attentively to the catching of them, in which accordingly we spent some part of the Morning; yet whilst we continued Angling, not far from one another, we often cast our Eyes (as is usual in such cases) upon each others fishing Corks, to learn as well the successes of our Friends, as in what places the Fish were forwardest to bite: As I chanced to look towards that Cork at which Eusebius' Hook was hanging, I perceived that it was divers times drawn under Water, without his endeavouring thereupon to strike that Fish that made thus bold with his Bait; wherefore laying down my Angle a while, I went softly towards Eusebius, to see what it was that made him so regardless of his Sport, whilst yet, by the posture be continued in, he seemed to be intent upon it: But approaching near enough, I quickly perceived, That instead of minding his Hook, his Eyes were fixed sometimes upon his own Picture, reflected from the smooth Surface of the gliding stream, and sometimes upon the Shadow projected by his Body, a little beside the Picture upon the same River.  
The unwilling noise I made in coming so near, having obliged Eusebius to take notice of me, I thought fit, since I found I was discovered, to ask him smilingly, whether he were Narcissus-like, making Love to his own Shadow.  
Eusebius guessing by these words, that I had conjectured what he was doing, answered me with a look somewhat more serious than that I had spoken to him with; I was indeed, Philaretus, attentively enough considering, sometimes my Picture, which the Water presents me with, and sometimes the Shadow, which the Sun and I together cast upon the Water; But (says he, with a half Smile) I looked upon both these, not with the Eyes of a Narcissuss, (for that would make me much Madder than he was) but with those of a Christian: For I was considering, that one of the Differences betwixt the Law, and the Gospel, might not be ill represented by the Difference betwixt a common Looking-glass, and that afforded me by this Crystal stream: For though both being specular Bodies, I can see my Face in either; yet if my Face be spotted with Dirt, or grown Pale by reason of the Faintness usual in such hot weather, a common Looking-glass will indeed discover those things to me, but will not otherwise assist me to remedy them; whereas, when I consult this Stream, if it show me any spots in my Face, it supplies me with water to wash them off, and by its cooling, and refreshing Waters, can relieve me from that Faintness that reduces me to look Pale.  
Thus the Law, which is commonly, and which seems even by an Apostle to be compared to a Looking-glass, shows us indeed the pollutions of our Souls, and discovers to us the effects of our spiritual I anguidness, and Faintness; but the Gospel does not only do so, but tells the Embracers of it, by Saint John's mouth, If any Man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father Jesus Christ, the Righteous, who is the Propitiation for our sins, and whose Blood cleanses us from all sin. And the Author of the same Gospel invites all those, that find themselves tired and thirsty, to come unto him, and to be refreshed.  
By this time, Lindamor, who was Angling not very far off, perceiving us stand together, as if we were engaged in some Discourse, laid by his Rod a while, and came to listen to what he expected he might learn from Eusebius; who pausing here, I put him in mind, that he had also mentioned to me the sight of his Shadow upon the face of the River, as another object of his Contemplations, and that therefore my curiosity (wherein I knew Lindamor, as soon as I should acquaint him with the occasion, would share) made me very desirous to know what thoughts had been suggested to him, by a Subject that seemed so slight and barren.  
Since you will needs know, (replies Eusebius) I will confess to you, that my Thoughts were Theologically enough employed, and therefore, lest you should think, I affect to Preach out of the Pulpit, I will but succinctly mention some of these Various things, that this Shadow, as despicable as you think it, suggested to me: But since I was only entertaining and exciting myself, not discoursing with Naturalists, or disputing with Atheists, I presume you will not wonder, that I take the Doctrine of the Creation for granted, as it is acknowledged by Christians in general, and particularly by You.  
I was then considering, that this Shadow, related to me, might in some particulars be no unfit one of the Universe in reference to God: And indeed, perhaps the World may without much extravagance be termed the Shadow of him, of whose Attributes, or Perfections, it exhibites to an attentive considerer divers excellent Impresses, and the resemblance may thus far be advanced, that as though it represents the Shape and Out-lines of my Body, which projects it, yet it represents but them, and consequently this Shadow in reference to it is but a superficial and worthless thing; so the World, though it be not destitute of several Impresses, and as it were Lineaments or Features of the Divine Wisdom and Power, yet for all this, its representations of the Divine Author of it, are but very Imperfect, Superficial, and Dark, and the Excellency of the Adorable Author of things, keeps him infinitely above all the works that he has made.  
But to mention some of the Comparisons I took notice of: In the first place we may consider, that I make this Shadow here without taking the least pains to do so, 
Psal. 33. 9  and with as little toil God made the World: He spoke, and it was done; He commanded, and it stood fast, (says the Psalmist, speaking of the Creation) and elsewhere the Scripture says, 
Isaiah 40. 28.  That the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the Earth fainteth not, neither is weary, and therefore that Rest ascribed him on the seventh Day, is to be understood but a Cessation from Creating, not a Repose from Labour, for all disproportions to the power of created Agents, are so equally inconsiderable, in reference to one that is Infinite, that Omnipotence may make even the World without Toil.  
Secondly, To make this Shadow, I neither use nor need Colours, nor Pencil; I dig no Quarries, nor fell no Trees to perfect this work, and employ no Materials about it; As little had God any Pre-existent matter to contrive into this vast Fabric: Our Creed proclaims him the Creator of Heaven and Earth; 
Revel. 10. 6.  the Angel, that holds the Book, in the Revelations, describes him resemblingly; and the Apostle tells us, That through Faith we understand that the Worlds were framed by the word of God; 
Hebr. 11. 8.  so that things which are seen, were not made of things that do appear: And indeed it became an Omnipotent Architect, not to be beholden but to himself for his Materials. He that calleth things that are not, as though they were, makes them by calling them; He brought forth Light out of Darkness, by calling for Light, and there was Light; he spoke it, and it was done, says the Psalmist; and the World was, if I may so express it, but the real Echo of that productive, FIAT.  
The next thing, I was considering, was, that, to destroy this Shadow, I needed neither Sword, nor Pistol, the withdrawing of myself under the Neighbouring Trees being sufficient to make the Shadow disappear, and leave behind as little shape of it, as if there never had been any. And thus, as the World could not have had a beginning, without having been provided by God, so for the continuance of the Being it enjoys, it depends altogether, and every moment, upon the will and pleasure of its first Author, of whom Saint Paul tells us, That in Him, we not only live, and move, but have our being; and to the same purpose I think one may allege that place, where the Scripture says of God, not only, 
Nehemiah the 9 and the 6.  That he has made Heaven, the Heaven of Heavens with all their Host, the Earth and all things that are thereon, the Seas and all that is therein; but adds, That he preserveth them all, as our Translatours English it; for in the Hebrew I remember it is, Vivifies them all, that is, sustains them in that improper Kind of Life, or that Existence, which, whilst their Nature lasts, belongs unto it; so that if God should at any time withdraw his preserving Influence, the World would presently Relapse, or Vanish into its first Nothing, as there are many Notions of the Mind such, as that of Genus, and Species, which are so the Creatures of Reason, that they have no longer an Existence in the nature of things, than they are actually upheld therein, by being actually thought upon by some Intellectual Being; And God is so the preserver of all his Creatures, that one may say of the rest, as the Psalmist speaks of many of them, where addressing himself to God, he says, Thou hidest thy Face, 
Psal. 104. 29, 30.  they are troubled; Thou takest away their Breath, they Dye, and return to their Dust; Thou sendest forth thy Spirit, they are Created, etc.  
I was also taking notice, (pursues Eusebius) that to produce what changes I pleased, in all, or any part of this Shadow; I needed not employ either Emissaries, or Instruments, nor so much as rouse up myself to any difficult Exertion of my own strength, since, by only moving this or that part of my own Body, I could change at pleasure in the twinkling of an Eye, the figure and posture of what part of the Shadow I thought fit: And thus, when God had a mind to work those Miracles, we most admire, as when at Josuah's prayer he stopped the course of the Sun, and at Hezekiah's, made him go back, we Men are apt to imagine that these prodigious Effects must needs cost their Author much, and that he must strain his Power, and be necessitated to a troublesome Exertion of his Omnipotence, to be able to produce them, whereas to that Divine Agent, those things that would be to all others impossible, are so far from being difficult, and the Creatures have so absolute and continual a dependence on him, that 'tis as easy for him to effect the greatest Alterations in them, as to resolve to do so, And even those Miraculous changes of the course of Nature, that do the most astonish us, do so naturally and necessarily flow from the Motions of his own Will, that to decree, and to execute, (whether or no they require powers otherwise than Notionally differing) are alike easy to him: And that irresistible Agent finds as little more difficulty to produce the greatest changes among the Creatures, than to produce the least; as I find it harder to move the whole Arm of my Shadow, than to move its little Finger. And this consideration (subjoins Eusebius) might be, methought, consolatory enough to his Church, who by reposing an entire trust in her God, entitles herself to the protection of him, that can as easily produce changes in the World, as resolve on them, and can with the same facility destroy her and his greatest Enemies, as decree their Destruction.  
I was also further considering, (says Eusebius) That though the little wat'ry Bodies, that make up this River, and consequently those that glided along by me, were in a restless Motion, the hindmost always urging on, and chase those that were before them, yet my Shadow was as complete and stable upon the fugitive Stream, as if it had been projected on the water of a Pond, or rather as if all the parts of Water, whereon 'twas Visible, had been fixed and moveless; of which I made this Application, that though we may say with Solomon, in a larger sense than his, That one Generation goes, and another comes, the World being maintained by perpetual Vicissitudes of Generation and Corruption, yet the Wisdom and Providence of God does so far confine the Creatures to the established Laws of Nature, that though vast Multitudes of individuals are always giving place to others, yet the particular Creatures, which do at any time make up the World, do always exhibit the like Picture of its divine Original.  
But yet lastly, (says Eusebius) I was considering too, that though this Shadow have some kind of resemblance to that, whose Shadow it is, yet the Picture is but very superficial and obscure; And if we should suppose, the Fishes that inhabit this Stream, to be endued with reason, they could even from Lindamors shadow but collect, that the Original is a Man, and not a Brute; but they could not hence make any discovery of what manner of Man he is, nor know any thing of his Virtues, or his Thoughts, or his Intention, nor consequently have that Notion of him, that I (pursues Eusebius, turning to him, and a little Smiling on him) do harbour and cherish, who having the happiness to converse with him, have the opportunity and the justice to admire him. Thus, where I formerly ventured to call the World God's Shadow, I did not forget, how imperfect a Picture a Shadow is wont to be: And though this dark Representation, that God has vouchsafed Men of himself in the Universe, be sufficient to convince us, that it was not made by chance, but produced by a Powerful and Intelligent Being; the eternal Power and Godhead of the Great Author of Nature, as the Scripture seems to teach us, being manifested to attentive and rational Considerers, in the visible productions of his Power and Wisdom; yet how short and dim a Knowledge must they have of him, that have no other than these Corporal Instructors. How many of his glorious Attributes are there, for whose Knowledge we must be beholden, rather to his Written, than his Created Word? and how little will humane Intellects, without Revelation, discover of that manifold Wisdom of God, which the Scripture teaches us, 
Ephes. 3. 10.  That even to the Angels it must be made known by the Church. And if those Illuminated persons, such as Moses and Saint Paul himself, who had both extraordinary Revelations from God, and intimate Communion with him, confessed, that in this Life they saw him but Darkly, and, as it were, in a Glass; sure the Dim light of mere Nature will give us but extremely imperfect, and detracting Ideas of him, whom the like Limitedness of our Nature will allow us to know but very imperfectly, in Heaven itself, though as we shall there see him Face to Face, our apprehensive Faculties will as well be enlarged, as the dazzling and ravishing Object be disclosed.  
But, (says Eusebius) though I forget, that I am not in the Pulpit, I hope you remember, that I told you at first, how little I pretended these kind of Reflections would endure a rigorous Philosophical Examen, and that I am not so Indiscreet, as to expect that they should work Conviction in an Infidel, though I hope they may excite good Thoughts in a Believer.  
These last words of our Friend being not followed by any other; Lindamor, having waited a while to ascertain himself, that Eusebius had ended his Discourse, began another, by saying:  
I perceive, Eusebius, with much more satisfaction than surprise, that the same Subject, and at the same time, did, as 'twas fit, suggest very differing considerations to you and me; for whilst your Shadow afforded you the rise of sublime Speculations, I was making but a moral Reflection upon mine: For taking notice, (continues he) that the Shade my Body projected, near Noon, was almost as much shorter than it, as in the Morning it was longer, prompted me to think, how foolish it were for me, who know by sure ways of measuring my own Statute, that it is moderate enough, not to be either proud of, or complained of, should imagine that I am either as Tall as a Giant, or as Low as a Dwarf, because I see my Shadow either exceeding long, or extremely short; and I was further considering, pursues Lindamor, that if Philosophers, as well as the Vulgar, have rightly called Fame or Glory the Shadow of Virtue, it would be as irrational to estimate one's self not by the testimonies of one's Conscience, which is the Authentic standard of Intrinsic worth, but by the sickle Opinions of others, (which oftentimes flatter, and oftener detract) but very seldom give a just and impartial estimate of merit: The Fame may have its increase, and decrements, whilst the Person continues the same, and loses nothing of substance with the Shadow. And for a Man that should examine himself, and judge of himself by his own designs, and actions, not other men's words, to suffer himself to be puffed up by vulgar applause, or dejected by unmerited censures, were to mistake a Shadow for a Standard.   

DISCOURSE VII.  
Upon a Fall occasioned by coming too near the River's Brink.  
IT was not long after this, that Eugenius chancing to spy a little Nook, which seemed to promise him a more convenient Station for his Angling, he invited Lindamor to share the advantage with him, and began to walk thitherward along the River's Brink, which the abundant moisture of the Waters that glided by it, had adorned with a pleasant Verdure; But he had not marched very far, when chancing to tread on a place, where the course of the Water had worn off the Bank, and made it hollow underneath, he found the Earth falter under him, and could not hinder his Feet from slipping down with the Turf that betrayed him; nor could he have escaped so, had not his endeavours to cast the weight of his Body towards the Bank been assisted by Lindamor, who though not so near the Brink as to be in danger, was not so far off but that he was able to catch hold of him, and draw him to the firm Land. The noise that Lindamor made, when he saw his Friend falling, quickly drew Eusebius and me thither, where, after I had a while made myself merry with the Disaster, I found to have been so harmless; Eusebius (who arrived there a little later) ased him how he came to fall, and Eugenius answering, that he thought he had trod upon firm Ground, because he saw the Bank look to the very edge as if it differed not from the rest of the Field, which it terminated; Eusebius took occasion from thence to tell him, You may from this take notice, that 'tis not safe Travelling upon the confines of what is Lawful, and what is Sinful, no more than upon the Borders of two Hostile Nations: When we suppose, that thus far we may go towards that which is Sinful, without committing it, we are wont with more boldness than considerateness to conclude, that we need not scruple to venture, or rather that we shall run no venture, having firm footing all the way. But 'tis much to be feared, that when we allow ourselves to come as far as the utmost Verge of what is Lawful, and to do that which in the Casuists Language, is, tantum non to Sin, the natural Proclivity of our minds to Evil, which carries them downwards, as weight does our Bodies, will sometime or other make us find hollow Ground, where we presume to find it firm: He that to Day will go towards Sin as far as he thinks he may, is in danger of going to Morrow further than he should; And it is far more easy for him to be secure than to be safe, that walks upon the Brink of a Precipice. He was a wise Man, that as soon as he had forbidden his Son to enter into the path of the Wicked, and to go in the way of Evil men, subjoins, as the best course to conform to the Prescription, avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass away: God's indulgence leaves us a Latitude to comply with our Infirmities, and Necessities, and to give us opportunities of exercising a pious Jealousy over ourselves, and of showing how much we fear to offend him. But a wary Christian will say in this case, as Saint Paul did in almost a like, All things are Lawful for me, but all things are not Expedient; And he must often go further than he can with Prudence, that will always go as far as he thinks he can with Innocence.   

DISCOURSE VIII.  
Upon the Good and Mischief that Rivers do.  
THis Discourse being ended, we All, as it were, by common Consent, applied ourselves again to prosecute the Sport that had invited us to the River: But we had not Angled very long, before we were Disturbed by a loud and confused Noise, which we soon discovered to proceed from a Ship, that, together with some Barges, and other lesser Boats, were, by the help of a favourable Breath of Wind, Sailing up the River towards London. The sight of these Laden-Vessels, together with the prospect of the Thames, Which, (as it happened in that place) seemed, in various Windings and Meanders, wantonly to fly, and to pursue itself: This sight, I say, together with that of the rich and flourishing Verdure, which the Waters, in their passage, bestowed upon all the Lands that were on either side any thing near their Banks, invited Eugenius, to fall upon the praises of that Excellent River, which not only imparts Fertility and Plenty, here at home, by Enriching all the places that have the advantage to be near it; but helps to bring us Home, whatever the Remoter parts of the World, and the Indies themselves, whether East or West, have of Rare or Useful.  
Lindamor, having both applauded and recruited these Commendations, Methinks, (says he) That amongst other good things, wherewith this River furnish us, it may supply us with a good Argument against those Modern Stoics, who are wont, with more Eloquence than Reason, to Declaim against the Passions, and would fain persuade Others, (for I doubt whether they be so persuaded themselves) That the Mind ought to deal with its Affections, as Pharaoh would have dealt with the Jews-Males, whom he thought it wise to Destroy, lest they might, one Day, grow up into a condition to Revolt from him. But, because the Passions are (sometimes) Mutinous, to wish an Apathy, is as unkind to us, as it would be to our Country, To wish we had no Rivers, because (sometimes) they do Mischief, when great or sudden Rain swells them above their Banks.  
When I consider, (says Eusebius) That of the Immaculate and Divine Lamb himself, 'tis recorded in the Gospel, That He looked round about, upon certain Jews, with Indignation, being grieved for the Hardness of their Hearts; So that two Passions are ascribed to Christ himself in one Verse: And when I consider too, the Indifferency, and (consequently the Innocence) of Passions in their own Nature, and the Use that Wise and Virtuous Persons may make of them, I cannot think we ought to throw away (or so much as wish away) those Instruments of Piety, which God and Nature has put into our Hands: But am very well content we should retain them, upon such conditions as Abraham did, Those Domestics he bought with his Money, whom the Scripture tells us, He both Circumcised, and kept as Servants.  
But, (continues Eusebius) As I do not altogether disallow Lindamors Comparison, between Rivers and Passions, so he must give me leave to add this to it, That as Rivers, when they overflow, Drown those Grounds, and Ruin those Husbandmen, which whilst they flowed Calmly betwixt their Banks, they Fertilized and Enriched: So our Passions, (when they grow Exorbitant and Unruly) destroy those Virtues, to which they may be very Serviceable whilst they keep within their Bounds.  
Instances of this truth, (pursues Eusebius) are but too Obvious; 'tis said, That Valour is Anger's Whetstone; and our being Counselled by the Apostle, To be Angry, and not to Sin, argues, that Passion not to be Incompatible with Innocence, whilst 'tis confined within the limits of Moderation. But when once Anger is Boiled up into Rage, or Choler into an habitual Fury, or appetite of Revenge, it makes more Havok in the World than Beasts and Inundations: The greatest part of those Rivers of Blood, that are shed in Battles, (though spilt by Anger) do rather Irritate than Appease the unnatural Thirst of that insatiate Fury: The burning of Cities, the sinking of Fleets, and the Desolations of Provinces, and of Kingdoms, make but part of the Tragic effects of this Inhuman Passion, when it once thoroughly possesses those that wield Sceptres, and handle Swords.  
I will not tell Lindamor, That even that noblest and best of Passions, Love, as gentle and amiable as it appears, when once it comes to degenerate by growing Unruly, or being Misplaced, is guilty of far more Tragedies than those that have the fortune to be Acted on Theatres, or to furnish the Writers of Romances; and that which (perchance at first) seems to be but an Innocent Love, being not duly watched, and regulated, may, in time, grow to disobey, or deceive Parents, to violate Friendships, to send Challenges, and fight Duels, to betray the Honour of harmless Virgins, and of the noblest Families, to Rebel against Kings, procure the Ruin of Monarchies and Commonwealths; And, in a word, To make thousands miserable, and those it possesses most of all, and thereby to bring Credit to, if not also to Surpass, the Fictions of Poets, and the Fabulous stories of Romances.  
And as for the desire of Excelling others, as great and noble things as it makes Men undertake, whilst it aspires only to a Transcendency in Virtue, and in Goodness, when that Passionate desire, by making Men too greedy of Superiority in Fame and Power, degenerates into Ambition; How many Vices are usually set a work by this one Passion! The contempt of the Laws, the Vilation of Oaths, the Renouncing of Allegiance, the Breach of Leagues and Compacts, the Murder of ones nearest Relation, (if they be more nearly related to a Crown) and all the other Crimes and Miseries, that are wont to beget or attend civil Wars, are the usual as well as dismal Productions of this aspiring Humour in a Subject; Nor does it less Mischief when Harboured in a Prince's Breast, for the Undoing of his own People, the Subversion of his Neighbour's States, the Sacking of Cities, the Slaughter of Armies, the Dispeopling of some Provinces, and the Peopling of others with Widows and Orphans, are Sacrifices that are more frequently offered up to Ambition, than able to satisfy it: For what can quench his Thrust of Rule and Fame, or hinder the Attempts to which it stimulates him, that can find in his Heart to destroy Armies, and ruin Provinces, only that he may be taken notice off to be able to do so.  
Certainly (subjoins Eusebius) he knew very well the Frame of humane Spirits, that said by the Pen of an Apostle; From whence comes Wars and Brawling among you? 
James 4. 1.  Come they not hence, even of your Lusts that War in your Members: And I doubt whether Plagues, Wars and Famines have done more mischief to Mankind, than Anger and Ambition, and some other inordinate Passions; for these do frequently bring upon Men those public and other fatal Calamities, either as Judgements, which they provoke God to Inflict, or as Evils, which as proper consequents naturally flow, from those Mischievous practices, to which unbridled Passions hurry the criminally unhappy Persons they have Inflaved.  
Wherhfore, (concludes Eusebius, casting his Eyes upon Lindamor) As the usefulness of a River hinders us not from making good the Banks, and, if need be, making dams, to confine it within its Limits, and prevent its Inundations; So the usefulness of the Passions should not hinder us from watchfully employing the Methods and Expedients afforded us by Reason and Religion, to keep them within their due Bounds, which they seldom overflow without showing to our Cost, that, as 'tis observed of Fire and Water, they cannot be so good Servants, but that they are worse Masters.   

DISCOURSE IX.  
Upon the comparing of Lands, seated at differing distances from the River.  
THis last Discourse, to which the River had afforded the occasion, inviting me to Survey as much of it as was within my View, a little more attentively, gave me the opportunity of taking notice of a manifest difference betwixt the Lands that lay near it, and those whose Situation was remoter from it, and having acquainted Eusebius with what I had observed, which his own Eyes could not but presently bear witness to; One (says he) that should only consider how swiftly this Stream runs along these flowery Meadows, and how great a quantity of Water passes through them, and from them, towards the Sea, would be apt to conclude, that certainly these Grounds retain none of the Water which runs from them so hastily, and so plentifully, especially since we can see no Channels, nor other manifest Inlets, and Receptacles, that should divert and retain the fugitive Water, so that the Grounds confining on the River, must be but little advantaged by its Neighbourhood. But, (continues Eusebius) though these Grounds have not any patent Passages, whereby to derive Water and Fatness from the River, and therefore must suffer the greatest part of it to run by them undiverted, yet still some of the Cherishing and Fertilizing moisture is from time to time soaked in by the Neighbouring Ground, and (perhaps by blind Pores, and crooked Channels) so dispersed thorough the whole Fields, that they have thereby Water, and in that vehicle Fertility conveyed to them, which you will not doubt, if you do but with me take notice, how much the Lands that lie on both sides near the Course of the River, are more Verdant, and Flourishing, and more Rich than those less happy Grounds, to whom their Remoteness denies the advantage of so improving a Neighbourhood.  
Thus (resumes Eusebius) many a pious Person that is an Assiduous attendant on the means of Grace, and has a care to place himself as it were in the way, by which the Ordinances of God, especially those of Reading, and Expounding of the Scriptures, are wont freely and copiously to flow, is (especially upon any fit of Melancholy, or distress of Mind) apt to be extremely discouraged from prosecuting that course of Duties, and by looking upon the little that he remembers of so many excellent Sermons as he has heard, he is often inclined to conclude not only he has lost all the good Sermons that he has heard already, but that at least for such as he there is little to be expected from them for the future.  
But though to lose so much of a thing, so precious as the Doctrine of Salvation, be that, which is oftentimes a fault, and always an unhappiness, yet 'tis a far less Mischief to forget Sermons than to forsake them, the one may be but an effect of a weak Memory, the other is that of a depraved Will, perverted by Laziness, Impatience, or some greater fault, we should scarce allow it for a Rational proceeding; if one in a Consumption, or Disentery, because he grows not Fat with Feeding, should resolve to renounce Eating and Drinking.  
But this (says Eusebius) is not that which I chiefly intended: For Pious, but melancholy Persons, are oftentimes too Partial against themselves, to be competent Judges of their own Estate, they seem not to forget any Sermon so much as that, Charity should begin at home; And they are much more careful not to accuse any body wrongfully than themselves, though they might remember, that in the Estimate of Christ himself, all Grounds are not equally Fruitful that are good, some bringing forth hundred, some sixty, some but thirty Fold, and yet to all he vouchsafes the title of Good; and though, as mad Men that have quite lost their Wits, seldom or never complain of the want of them; so those that have forfeited, or are devoid of Grace, rarely bemoan themselves of the weakness of it. And 'tis no mean sign of Proficiency in Piety, to be apt to deplore one's unproficiency; 'Tis true, that Preaching is not always, and I fear not so much as often, the Savour of Life unto Life, the Perverseness of the Hearers making it but too frequently the Savour of Death unto Death. But yet, speaking in the general, though it aggravate the Sins committed in spite of it, yet it usually hinders many others from being committed; and he that twice a Week is told of God, and Duty, and Heaven, and Hell, has his Conscience more awaked than he that never hears of any of these things. And if you but compare one of these despondent Christians, we are considering, with the careless Sensualists, that fly a rowzing Sermon, as they should do what it would deter them from; you will easily discern a sufficient disparity between them, to invite you to conclude, that the Instructiveness of Preaching may, like the moisture of the River, be conveyed but by little and little at a time, and by unperceived Passages, and yet be able to impart Fertility: For though much run by, yet commonly something will stick, which we may safely conclude, if though we can discern it no other way, it disclose itself by the Effects; for 'tis not always to those that remember the most of them, that Sermons do the most good, as Water retained in Ponds makes not the Bottom flourishing, but the Banks, and the Efficacy of a Sermon is better to be collected from the Impression it has on the Understanding, and Affections, than from that it leaves on the Memory, whether we retain the Particulars faithfully or no, and carry them home with us; yet if a Sermon leave us Devouter than it found us, if we go from God's Ordinances, with a love to them, and a relish of them, and a purpose to frequent them, we may be Despondents, but are not altogether Non-proficients; that incorruptible Seed by which we are Regenerated, being once thrown into an honest Heart, may, as our Saviour intimates, grow up we know not well how, and though perhaps by insensible degrees, yet at length attain Maturity. To dispatch, (concludes Eusebius) whether or no a Man can orderly repeat all the Particulars that composed the Sermon, it does him good, if it either makes him good, or keeps him so: And its Operation is to be estimated, not so much by what we Remember, as by what we Resolve.  
What you have been saying, (subjoins Lindamor) when he perceived that Eusebius had done speaking, suggests to me a Reflection, that till now I did not dream of; And though it differ from that wherewith you have been pleased to entertain us, yet because 'tis applicable to the same purpose, and occasioned by the same River, I shall without scruple, though after your Discourse, not without Blushes, tell you, that it is this; I, among many others that Live near it, have often resorted in hot Wether to this River, to bathe myself in it, and after what I have been hearing, I now begin to consider, that though incomparably the greater part of the River run by me, without doing me any good, and though when I went out of it, I carried away little or none of it with me; yet whilst I stayed in it, that very Stream, whose Waters run so fast away from me, washed and carried off whatever Foulness it might find sticking to my Skin: And besides, not only cooled me, and refreshed me, by allaying the intemperate heat that discomposed me, and made me faint, but also helped me to a good Stomach for some while after.  
Thus (resumes Lindamor) I have sometimes found, that a moving Sermon, though it did not find me qualified to derive from it the Advantages it questionless afforded better Auditors, and when I went from it, I found I had retained so little of it, that it seemed to have almost totally slipped out of my Memory, yet the more Instructive and Pathetic passages of it had that Operation upon me, as to cleanse the Mind from some of the Impurities it had contracted, by Conversing to and fro in a defiling World, without suffering Pollutions to stay long, and settle where they began to be Harboured; And besides, I found that a course of such Sermons, as I have been mentioning, did oftentimes (and if it had not been my own fault, would have always done so) both allay those Inordinate heats that tempting Objects are but too apt to Excite; refresh my drooping Spirits, that continually needed to be revived, and raise in me an Appetite to the means of Grace, which are Piety's (and consequently the Soul's) true and improving Aliments. So that, (concludes Lindamor) though I seldom let Sermons do me all the good they may, and should, yet I dare not forsake them, because I forget them; since 'tis to do a Man some good, to make him less bad than he was, and to give a Value and Inclination for the means of growing better than he is.   

DISCOURSE X.  
Upon a Fishes running away with the Bait.  
THis Reflection of Lindamor's was soon followed by another of the same Gentleman's, who seeing many Fishes rise one after another, and bite at Eugenius' Bait, which he let them sometimes run away with, that he might be the surer to be able to draw them up, as he afterwards did several of them; See, (says Lindamor, as one of the Fishes had just swallowed the Hook) how yonder silly Fish, having at length seized the beloved Bait, he has been Courting, posts away with it as his obtained wish, little dreaming of being himself taken: Thus (continues the same Speaker) when greedy Mortals have an opportunity to obtain forbidden things, they joyfully run away with them as the Goods they aimed at, and when they fond think they have caught, they are so, and whilst they imagine themselves to carry away a Booty, they become a Prey; for that he is in his Judgement that never errs, who, whatever he gets into the Bargain, loses himself.  
The Scripture, (subjoins Eusebius) mentions, among other properties of Vice, that which it calls the Deceitfulness of Sin. And the wise Man tells us, that Wine is a Mocker; and it may be one of the reasons of these Expressions, that when we think ourselves possessed of a sinful Pleasure, we are indeed possessed by it, as Doemeniacks are possessed by the Devil, who serves many other Sinners, though less perceivedly, as he serves Witches, whom he gets the Power to command, by seeming to obey them, and to comply with their criminal desires; And, if we compare this, with what I was just now observing to you, on the occasion of the counterfeit Fly, we may add, That even when Sin seems the Kindest and most Obsequious to us, and to answer if not exceed our Desires, our case may be but like the Canaanitish General's, who though he had Milk brought him by Jael instead of the Water he only requested, was but thereby invited to Sleep the Sleep of Death, 
Judges 4. 29.  and to have his Fears more surpassed than his Desires had been.  
But, (pursues Eusebius) this may supply us with another Reflection; for though this Fish seems to have devoured the Hook and Bait it swallowed, yet in effect it is taken thereby; so the Devil, when he had played the Serpent and the Lion, when he had brought the Jews and Gentiles to conspire against their common Saviour, and had made Herod and Pilate friends to make them joint Enemies to Christ, and when by these means he seemed to have obtained his end, by employing their hands to Kill the formidablest of all his Enemies, this pursued Prey destroyed the seeming Conqueror; and Death appearing to swallow the Lord of Life, was, if I may so speak, choked by the Attempt, since he not only was quickly able to say in the Apostles Triumphant Language: O Death, 
2 Cor. 15. 15.  where is thy Sting? 
Hebr. 2. 14, 15.  O Grave, where is thy Victory? but did by Death conquer him that had the power of Death, that is, the Devil; nay, and made all his followers so much sharers in the advantages of his Conquest, as by the same way (which we are informed by the same Text) to deliver those whom the restless fear of Death perpetually kept from relishing the Joys of Life.   

DISCOURSE XI.  
Upon a Danger springing from an unseasonable Contest with the Steersman.  
THis Discourse being ended, Eugenius, who was looked upon by us all as the most Experienced as well as concerned Angler among us, descrying at a good distance a place which he judged more convenient for our Sport, than that we there were in, where the Fish began to bite but slowly; He invited the Company to this new Station, but when we were come thither, finding in a short time, that either it was ill stocked with Fish, or that the Season of their Biting in the places thereabouts was over, he thought it concerned him to provide us some better place; and accordingly, whilst we were yet, by the pleasure of mutual conversation, endeavouring to keep the Fish's sulleness from proving an Exercise to our patience, he walked on along the River, till he lighted upon a Youth, that by his Habit seemed to belong to some Boat or other Vessel; and having enquired of him, whether he could not be our Guide to some place where the Fish would bite quick, he replied, that he easily could, if we would take the trouble of coming to a place on the other side of the River, which his Master, who was a Fisherman, had Baited over Night, and would questionless let us make use of for a small Gratification; Eugenius, being very well content, called away the Company, which were led by the Youth to a Boat belonging to his Master, into which being entered, the old Man, who was owner of the Boat, hoist up Sails, and began to steer the Boat with one of his Oars, to a place he showed us at a good distance off, but did it so unskilfully, that since a Mariner of his Age could scarce mistake so grossly for want of Experience in the River, we began to suspect, that he had too plentifully tasted a far stronger Liquor than that which was the Scene of his Trade; and as the old Man was half Drunk, so the Youth appeared to be a mere Novice, both which we had quickly occasion to take notice off: For some Clouds that were gathering out of the Sea, passing over our Vessel, raised in their passage, as is usual enough, a temporary Wind, that to such a slight Boat as ours was, might almost pass for a kind of Storm; For then the old Man gave out his directions so ill, and the Youth was so little able to execute them punctually, that two of the Company offended at their unskilfulness, began by angry and unseasonable Expostulations and Clamours, to confound the already disordered Boat-man, and being got up, with no small hazard to the Boat, they would perchance, by crossing the Watermens in their endeavours, have made it miscarry, had not Lindamor, whose Travels had made him well acquainted with such cases, earnestly requested them to sit still, and let the Watermens do their own work as well as they could, affirming, that he had seen more than one of those easily over-set Boats cast away by the confused and disagreeing endeavours of the Watermens and Passengers to preserve it: This counsel was thought very reasonable, since the greater the Wind was, and the less the Steerman's dexterity, the more necessary it appeared, that we should be orderly and quiet, and by leaning our Bodies sometimes one way, and sometimes another, as occasion required, do what in us lay to keep the Vessel upright, and herein we were so prosperous, that soon after the Cloud was passed, and the Shower it brought with it was over, the Wind grew moderate enough to allow us to make some calm Reflections on what had happened: This Lindamor, from the thanks that were given him for his advice, took occasion to do in these terms: Since Statesmen and Philosophers are wont to compare a Commonwealth to a Ship, I hope the Reflection suggested to us by what had just now happened, will be the easier pardoned. The skill of ruling Nations, is an Art no less difficult than noble; for whereas Statuaries, Masons, Carpenters, and other Artificers work upon inanimate Materials, a Ruler must manage free Agents, who may have each of them interests or designs of their own, distinct from those of the Prince, and many times repugnant to them: And the Prizes that are contended for in Government, either are, or (which is in our case all one) are thought, so Valuable, and the concurrents are so Concerned, and consequently so Industrious to drive on each his own design, that without mentioning any of those many other things which make good Government difficult, these alone may suffice to make it more our trouble than our wonder, that the Rulers of States and Commonwealths should oftentimes mis-govern them. But the public Infelicities of declining States, are not always wholly due to the Imprudence of the Ruler, but oftentimes those that most resent such Imprudency, even by those very Resentments, increase the public Disorders they appear so much troubled at; and it may be a question, Whether it be more prejudicial to Commonwealths, to have Rulers that are mean Statesmen, than to have a Multitude of Subjects, that think themselves to be Wise ones, and are forward to Censure what is done by their Magistrates, either because it is done by their Superiors, or because 'tis not done by themselves.  
Yet it may well be doubted, (says Eugenius) whether the Reverence and Submission we owe to Senates, or Princes, extend to our very Reasons, and our inward Thoughts: For the Right, and the Skill to Govern, are two very distinct things; nor does the one confer the other: A Crown, how precious soever, adorns but the outside of the Head, without enriching the inside; and its Splendour will scarce dazzle a Wise beholders Eyes, though it but too often does theirs that wear it: No, the Tribunal of reason has a Jurisdiction that reaches to Thrones themselves, and what you well observed just now concerning the difficulty of avoiding faults in Government, will, I presume, make you think it excusable, if I confess that I think, Sovereigns do now and then do what you confess 'tis so hard for them to avoid doing; Nor is it more a Breach of Loyalty, not to think a weak Governor a Prudent one, than not to think him Tall, or Straight, or Sharp-sighted, if Nature have made him Low, or Crooked, or Purblind. A Senate or a Monarch may indeed command my Life and Fortune; but as for my Opinions, whether of Persons, or things, I cannot in most cases command them myself, but must suffer them to be such as the Nature of the things I judge of requires; and therefore, the thinking all things done with Wisdom that are done by Men in Power, is too great an Impossibility to be a Duty; and besides, it would lessen the Merit of Obedience, which otherwise would not appear to be paid to the Authority of the Magistrate, since we readily obey the Injunction of Lawyers and Physicians, as long as we think them Prudently framed for our good, though we acknowledge not these Persons to have any right to Command us.  
But though (continues Eugenius) I take Reason to be so supreme a thing, that as even the greatest Princes Actions should be regulated by it, so they may be judged by it; yet I allow lawful Authority a Jurisdiction over my Actions, that I deny it over my Opinions; and though I can obey the Orders that have the Impresses of Wisdom, as well as the stamp of Authority, with more hope and alacrity, yet I can obey those wherein I think Power is unguided by Prudence, with no less Punctualness and Fidelity: I would not resist a Magistrate when I cannot esteem him; and though I dare discern Folly even in the greatest Princes, yet I can reverence Authority in the weakest.  
I know Eugenius too well (says Lindamor) not to believe him: But though I confess, that to do what you say, is to do much, and to do that which I fear is not usually done, yet methinks it were well if we did somewhat more; for whereas most humane Actions, especially about Matters political, are attended with great variety of Circumstances, according to some or other of which, they may be differingly considered, and estimated, as 'tis not very difficult to make many, if not most Actions appear politic or unwise, according as they are Clothed with those of their Circumstances, that may be applied to excuse them, or with those that are fit to discommend them; so I would take a care to put the favourablest Constructions on those public Counsels, that are capable of more Constructions than one, and use the Parents of my Country, as Noah's two dutiful Children did their distempered Father, whose Nakedness when they had once discovered, they covered too; and that in such a way, as showed they were unwilling to see more of it than was necessary to enable them to hide it. And I say this, (continues Lindamor) with Relation to Eugenius, and such as he; for as to the Vulgar, who yet make up the far greatest and loudest part of those that would intrude themselves into State-affairs, upon the pretence of their being ill managed by their Superiors; I cannot but think, that whatever the course of Affairs be, these cannot but be incompetent Judges of their being Politic, or the contrary: For to judge of things barely by success, were somewhat to forget that there is a supreme and absolute disposer of Events, and has been a practice always rejected by the Wise, as both discouraging Wisdom and affronting it; And as for the Counsels, by which indeed the Prudence or Imprudence of public Actions is to be estimated, the Vulgar is rarely admitted to have such a Prospect into the true State of Affairs, as is requisite to enable them to judge of the Expedience or unadvisedness of them, being unacquainted with the frame and Motives of the Prince's Counsels and Designs: Ordinary Men may often think that Imprudent, whilst they consider it only in itself, which its congruity to the rest of the Prince's designs may make Politic enough, and a private Whisper, or the Intimation from an unsuspected Spy, or an intercepted Letter, or divers other things unperceived, and perhaps undreamt of, by those that are not of the State-Cabal, may make it wise to do several things, which to those that look only at the Actions, without knowing the Motives, may appear Unpolitick, and would indeed be so, were it not for these Reasons, which yet ought to be as little Divulged as Disobey'd: So that the People's forwardness, to quarrel with the Transactions of their Prince, is usually compounded of Pride and Ignorance, and is most incident to those, that do not sufficiently understand either State-affairs or themselves; and whilst they judge upon incompetent Information, even when their Superiors are in the fault, they may be so, for censuring them.  
I must not now dispute, (says Eusebius) whether such as you, gentlemans, whom their Conditions, Parts and Opportunities qualify to discern the Interests and Designs of Princes, may not be allowed to judge of their Counsels, and see their Errors; As our late Astronomers, being assisted with good Glasses, are allowed to tell us, that they discern Spots even in the Sun itself. But certainly, the Ambition of Pragmatical Inferiors, to make themselves Statesmen, upon pretence that those that sit at the Helm do not Govern it as wisely as these would do, if they were in the same places, is a fault no less prejudicial to any State, than Epidemical in some of them: For whilst the Government is thus Decried, the same disadvantageous Representatations embolden Strangers and Foreigners to attempt the Subversion of a State, and make the dispondent Subjects despair of preserving it, little considering that there are scarce ever any Imprudences in a Government, that can prove any thing near so Prejudicial to the Generality of the Subjects, as would the Subversion of it, whether by Foreign Conquest, or by Intestine Jars; such changes seldom doing less than entail upon unhappy Countries the fears and mischiefs of Warr. And that though it be granted, that the right of Governing does not confer the Skill, yet 'tis much better to stick to the former, than oppose or desert it, because it wants the latter: For a right to a Crown, is that, which for the most part manifestly belongs but to one, and is seldom plausibly pretended to by above two or three, whereas the Skill to Govern is so undetermined, and so uncertain a thing, that men's Innate pride and Self-love would incline almost every Man to claim it for himself, especially, since by challenging that, he might put for no less than Sovereignty: And in a State thus abandoned to the craftiest or the strongest, there would never want disturbing Vicissitude of Governments, as well as Governors, since whoever could get Interest enough in the Soldiery, or the Multitude, would quickly devise and impose such a frame of Government, as may put the Management of Affairs into his and his Parties hands, and give them the Authority that have the Power. But (resumes Eusebius) I must remember, that not Politics, but Divinity is my Profession, and therefore without enlarging upon the confusion that is inevitable in a State, where the right of Governing being not heeded, or at least not ascertained, every Man would pretend to Counsel or Command, and none would think himself bound to Obey; I shall only mind you, that Magistracy having been instituted by God, for the good of Mankind, we may in obeying our Lawful Magistrates, though perhaps less Wise than we could wish them, not only participate the Advantages naturally accrueing from Obedience to Superiors, but divers peculiar Blessings that God oftentimes vouchsafes to our Obedience to his Vice-gerents, and his Institutions. Let Subjects therefore (says Eusebius) wish for wise Princes, but submit to those the Providence of God, and the Laws of their Country, may have given them: Let us, if by any just way we be called to it, assist a Prince with the wisest Counsels we can; if not, let us assist him to make the best of the unwise Counsels he has taken, without adding our Factiousness, or our Passions to his Misgovernment, remembering that, at least in my Opinion, to the happiness of a Commonwealth, it is not only requisite that the Prince know how to command well, but that the Subjects obey well; and that even weak Counsels, faithfully assisted, and as much as may be rectified or repaired by those that are to Execute them, may less prejudice the public, than the froward and jarring endeavours of Men, that perhaps would be wiser Rulers if they had a right to be so. It may be (continues Eusebius) that affection and diligence in the public Service, may, in spite of the Governments miscarriages, prevent, or at least retard and lessen, the Ruin of the State. But however, (concludes he) it will be no small satisfaction to an honest Man, and a loyal Subject, not to be conscious to himself of having contributed to the public Calamities, either by his own Provocations, or his Factious indignation at the Prince's faults; if a Man have done his utmost to hinder the Ruin he comes to be involved in, the public Calamity will be far lighter to him, being not clogged by private Gild; and he will support the misfortune of it with far the less trouble, if he be to support nothing else. Nay, since the Service we do to whatever Prince is rightfully set over us, upon the score of his being God's Vicegerent, is ultimately directed to that Supreme, and as the Scripture calls him, Only Potentate, whose Manificence is as inexhausted as his Treasure; we may safely expect, that whatever prejudice we here sustain upon the account of the Prince's commands, will hereafter be advantageously considered to us in the reward of our Obedience.   

DISCOURSE XII.  
Upon Clouds rising out of the Sea, and falling down in Rain not Brackish.  
THis Discourse had already lasted so long, that as well my Unwillingness that one Theme should detain us any longer, as my Desire to keep Eugenius from making any Reply, which on such an occasion might perchance have begot some Dispute, made me forward to divert the Discourse, by inviting the Company to take notice of a black Cloud that was coming towards us, which soon after, in its passage under the Sun, interposed betwixt our Sight and that gloriousest Object of it. Lindamor then having a while attentively enough considered it, took thence an occasion to say: This Cloud, Gentlemen, whensoever it shall fall down in Rain, will sufficiently show that it was before but Water, which whilst it lay mingled with the rest of the River, or the Sea, whence 'tis Exhaled, may be supposed as Clear and Limpid as any of the rest; but now that the Sun has by its powfull Beams elevated this Water in the form of Vapours, and drawn it near itself, we see it Composes a Cloud, which does no longer receive or transmit the Light, but robs the Earth of it, and eclipses the Sun that raised it, and sometimes too, produces dismal storms of Rain, and Wind, and Hail. Thus (pursues Lindamor) there are many, who while they continued in a low and private Fortune, were as blameless as others; and yet, when by a peculiar Vouchsafement of Providence, they are raised from that humble state to a conspicuous height, they seem to have as much changed their Nature as their Fortune, they grow as much worse than meaner Men, as their condition is better than that of such; and the principal things by which they make their Exaltation be taken notice of, are, the Prejudice they do to their Inferiors, and the Ingratitude they exercise towards that Monarch of the World, that raised them above others. Of so perverting a Nature, is so high a Station, that the gaining of an Earthly Crown, is very far from being a furtherance to the acquiring of an Heavenly one: And many, whom an humble condition of Life kept as Innocent as Lowly, are, by the highest Advancement in point of Fortune, impaired in point of Morality; and these supreme Dignities, which the ambitious World so fond Courts and Envies, do so often manifest those that have attained them, to be unworthy of them.  
I know not whether Eugenius imagined that Lindamor did in this Discourse make some little Reflection, upon what we had lately said on the behalf of Princes: But I afterwards suspected, that it was partly to reply to this Observation, as well as entertain the Company with a new one that he subjoined. As this Cloud has furnished Lindamor with one Reflection, so that which lately brought us the Shower of Rain, whose marks are yet upon our Hats, may supply us with another, which may show, that Themes of this Nature are applicable to very differing purposes, according as one or other of their Circumstances happens to be considered and employed: For as far (pursues he) as we can judge by the Neighbourhood of the Sea, and by that Cloud's being driven hither by a Wind blowing thence, it consisted of the Sea-water raised in the form of Vapours. But though the Water of the Ocean is Salt and Brackish, Unpleasant and Unwholesome whilst it lies there Unelevated; yet that Water which has the Advantage of being raised to the second Region of the Air, appears, when 'tis turned into Rain, to have left all its Brackishness behind it, and proves both wholesome for men's Bodies, and fertilizing to their Fields.  
Thus (continues Eugenius) we sometimes see, that Men, who in a private condition were subject to divers Vices, divest them when they are advanced to the honour of putting on Royal Robes, as Silkworms leave their Husks behind them, when by acquiring Wings they turn into (a nobler sort of Creatures) flying Animals; as most Men change, so some improve their Minds with their Condition, and seem to have misbehaved themselves in a lower Station, but because they were Born to a higher, and were, whilst beneath it, detained out of their proper Sphere. And indeed, as a Throne exposes those that sit on it to peculiar Temptations to Vice, so does it afford them peculiar Engagements to Virtue, as so Elevated a Station is apt to make Men giddy, so is it proper to make them circumspect, by letting them see that all the World sees Them; the Sublimity of such a Condition would make any Soul, that is not very mean, despise many mean things that too often prevail upon Inferior persons. If Princes have any sense of Shame and Honour, it will be a great Curb to them, to consider, that, as there are too many Eyes upon them to let their Vices be secret, so their Faults can as little escape Censure as Discovery; and Men will be the more severe to their Reputations, because 'tis the only thing wherein Subjects can punish their Sovereigns. If they have any thing of Generosity in their Natures, their very Condition, by placing them above other Objects, will make them aspire to Glory, and that is a Mistress, that even Monarches cannot successfully court, but with great and good Actions. And if they have withal a sense of Piety, they cannot, but, in Gratitude to him, whose Vicegerents they are, endeavour to promote his Interests that made them so, and so make themselves as like him as they can in his other Attributes of Clemency, Justice, and Bounty, as he has vouchsafed to make them in his Power and Authority: And besides, that the actual Possession of an Earthly Grown leaves them nothing worth aspiring to but a Heavenly one: The consideration of the great Advantages they have above other Men of doing Good, and the Exemplariness and Influence as well of their Vices as of their Virtues, will make them tremble at the thoughts of the Account they must one Day render of so many Thousands, perhaps of so many Millions, (of Subjects) committed to their Charge, if, as they are sure it will be a great one, they shall not make it a good one. Nor (pursues Eugenius) is History altogether unfurnished with Examples of those whom a Throne has as well Improved as Dignifyed: 
1 Sam. 10. 6. 9  Saul was not the only Person, who when he was created King had another Spirit, and became another Man; That Titus, who was the Head of it, was justly styled the Darling of Mankind, though his Virtue and Nobleness did, more than his Crown, keep the greatest part of Posterity from taking notice of any thing in him, but an Obligingness proportionate to his Greatness: Yet I find in some ancient Writers, to whom Truth was more dear than even this Favourite of Mankind, that before he came to that supreme Pitch of humane Dignity, his course of Life did not promise the Roman World the happiness it derived from his Government; His Life before he came to be Emperor, having not been so free from Blemishes of Lust and Blood: But that I may, in writing his Character, invert what the Roman Historian said of one of his Predecessors, and say, that Titus had been thought Indignus Imperio nisi imperasset. And, without going as far as Rome, our own History affords us a Henry the Fifth, who, before he came to the Kingdom, was scarce thought worthy to Live in it, and did so degrade himself to the Practices of the meanest Malefactors, that a Judge, that was then his Father's Subject, was fain to use him at that Rate; and yet this Prince, as soon as he had Seated himself in the Throne, did as suddenly as if the Place itself had some secret Virtue to improve those it admitted, behave himself as a Person worthy of it; and not only Conquered France, but, which was a Nobler, as well as a more difficult Victory, his own Resentments too, by preferring that Judge, when King, that had Imprisoned him, when Prince; and evincing by so memorable an Action, that he preferred Virtue above himself, and renouncing the Pleasure of Revenge, he scrupled not to promote one whom he could not commend without condemning himself; were it not, that in this Prince, according to what I was saying, the King was become another Man than the Subject. And perhaps, (concludes Eugenius, a little Smiling) I could proceed to give you other Examples enough to keep it from being improbable; that one main Reason, why there are but few good Princes, is, because there are but few Princes; were it not that I see the Waterman prepare to Land us: And in effect, we were now come so near the place, where the Fisherman designed to set us Ashore, that whether or no Lindamor had a mind to return any thing to what Eugenius had said, it would then have appeared unseasonable, either to resume the Debate, or prosecute the Discourse.   

DISCOURSE XIII.  
Upon drawing the Boat to the Shore.  
WHen we were now come to the place where we were to be Landed, lest the Boat should be carried away by the Stream before we could step Ashore, the Owner of it reached out his long Pole, and by means of the Crook, taking fast hold of the Bank, he drew the Pole towards him with all his might, and thereby brought the Boat to Shore. This endeavour of the VVater-man's, and the effect of it, inviting Eusebius to smile a little, gave me the Curiosity, as soon as we were Landed, to inquire why he did so: It is almost as ordinary, (answers Eusebius) for Men to think themselves wiser than God, as 'tis impossible for them really to be so. Those that study nothing but to obtain their Ends, and that scruple at nothing they judge conducive to them, do oftentimes lay their designs and plots with so much Artifice and Subtlety, that they do not doubt, that, whatever may become of God's designs, and of his promises, and threats, those which themselves have laid so Politicly cannot but succeed. And even pious and wellmeaning Persons, that have the opportunity to discern the Politic ways that these Men take to compass their Ends, are oftentimes tempted to needless Fears, that Divine providence will be puzzled and distressed by them; and to think, that for Reasons secret, though just, Providence may be put by these men's craft to play an aftergame in the World to come. But in such cases, it often fares with these grand Designers, as it did just now with our Waterman: He had fastened his Grapling-Iron to the Shore, and putting to his utmost strength, did so forcibly endeavour to draw it towards him, that one, that did not know that the Shore was fixed, might expect this Lusty Fellows endeavours capable to put into Motion whatever he so forcibly drew towards him: But the Shore being fixed, and immovable, instead of making that come to him, his very strainings drew him and his Boat to that. Thus the contrivers of the proud Pile of Babel, whereby they meant (not, as most imagine, to secure themselves against a second Flood; the Text being silent as to that Aim, and a Plain being a very improper place for such a purpose, but) to make themselves a Name, and prevent Dispersion. These ambitious Contrivers, who had laid their Plot so hopefully, that they had engaged no less than Mankind, and who probably had Designs as raised as their intended Fabric, since those Expressions of him, that knew their Hearts, 
Genes. 11. v. 6.  (And this they begin to do, and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do) seemed methinks to warrant my Conjecturing, that those had designs very aspiring, that intended but to make a Rise to their soaring flight of a Tower, whose Top should reach unto Heaven. But the Policy of these ambitious Builders being contrary to the charitable decree of God, to have the Earth Peopled, he made use of that very conspiracy, that brought them together, to effect that which they conspired to prevent; so, that now the remotest Parts of the Inhabited World are but the Colonies of Babel, whose scattered Architects have indeed made themselves a Name, but upon a quite contrary Account than they intended or expected. Thus the Purblind envy of Joseph's Brethren, having made them resolve to prevent his future Dreams of Superiority over them, made them think, that by Selling him for a Slave, they had taken sufficient Order he should never come to be their Master. And yet we see, that Joseph's being sold into Egypt, was made use of by the wise Orderer of humane Affairs, to make him in effect Lord of that rich and populous Kingdom; and thereby, of his envious Brethren, Pharoah's Dreams having advantageously made him amends for the hardships his own had exposed him to. So the proud Favourite of Ahasuerus questionless thought he could scarce miss his Ends, when, by the Counsel of his Friends, and, as he fond thought, of his Gods too, he provided for Mordecai that fatal Gibbet, which probably he might have escaped, if he had not erected it. Thus the High Priest and Sanhedrin of the Jews, seemed to Act with much Policy, though no Justice, when they resolved upon the Death of our Saviour, lest, as the Gospel tells us, the Romans should come and Destroy their Temple, and Nation, which whether indeed it did not rather procure than divert the coming of the Romans, the Church-History can inform you. Nay, the Old Serpent himself, that Arch-politician, that was the Instructor of those others I have been naming, even in his chiefest Masterpiece, found himself the most Overmatched by him, to whom the Scripture ascribes the taking of the Wise in their own Craftiness. For questionless, he highly applauded his own Subtlety, and seemed to have taken the directest and most prosperous way to his impious Ends, that could be devised, when, having made Herod and Pilate Friends upon such terms, that the Lamb of God should be the Victim of their new Confederacy, he had engaged both Jews and Gentiles in a ruinous and tragic Conspiracy to Kill the Prince of Life, and by that unparallelled Crime at once destroy the Devil's chief Enemy, and make God theirs: And yet the Event has sufficiently manifested, that the Apostle might well affirm, that Christ by his Death destroyed him that had the Empire of Death, the Devil, and that Satan's Kingdom never received so deadly a Wound, as that which pierced our Crucify'd Saviour's side. Wherhfore in short, (concludes Eusebius) the Decrees of Providence are too solid and fixed to have Violence offered them by humane Attempts, how specious soever they be; and those that think to bring God to their Bent, will find at long Running, that they have to do with One, whose Power and Wisdom are so overruling, that not only he can frustrate their utmost endeavours, but make those very endeavours frustrate themselves, and employ men's subtlest Policies to accomplish those very things they were designed to defeat.   

DISCOURSE XIV.  
Upon Catching store of Fish at a Baited place.  
AS soon as we were come to the place the Fisherman told us of, we found it as plentifully stored with Fish as he had foretell us, and caught more in some few Minutes than we had taken in a whole hour before: But we did not half so much marvel at this, as we were pleased with it, because the Fisherman informed us, that he had liberally Baited the place overnight with Corn, as well as Worms; whilst this pleasant Exercise lasted, Eusebius marking how great a Resort of Fishes there was in that place, and how fast we drew them up, upon comparing what he saw happen, with the Occasion of it, thus acquainted us with the thoughts thereby suggested to him. Those (says he) that Yesterday in the Evening might see this Man (pointing at the Fisherman) throw in his Baits by handfuls into this place, and then depart, as minding them no more, were probably, if they knew not his Design, and the Custom of Fishers, tempted to think him a wasteful Prodigal, or at best a venturous Fool, to bury his Corn in the River, and throw his Baits to be caught up by Fishes, that for aught he knew would never come back to thank their Host. But those that know (what we now find) how profitable a Course this is wont to prove, would, in stead of thinking such a practice a piece of Folly, look upon it as a piece of Pro●idence: For though he be sure not to recover in kind the things he cast upon the Waters, yet such a loss is wont to prove very gainful unto him, whilst he loses but a Grain of Corn, or a Worm, to obtain Fishes of far more Value. Thus, though the purblind World may think a liberal Almes-giver, or a generous Confessor, a Fool, or a Prodigal, whilst they only consider him as one that throws away what he has in present Possession, and seems not so much as to hope for the recovery of the same Goods, or any of the like Nature; yet those whose Eyes being Illuminated with a Heavenly light, are thereby enabled to look into the vast and distant Regions of the future, and to descry there the final Issues of all Temporal things, will be so far from thinking him unwise, for parting with unsatisfying Trifles, to procure the highest and most permanent Goods, that they will think his Proceedings far more justifiable in point of Prudence, than we now think the Fisher-man's: Nor will the parting with a greater Fortune, as freely as with a lesser, any more alter the Case, than the Fisherman's throwing in his bigger Worms, and grains of Corn, with no more scruple than his lesser: For Heaven does as well incomparably outvave the greatest, as the least Goods poor Morals can lay out for it; and he, who has all things to give, and is infinitely more than all himself, has promised, that those that Sow plentifully, shall Reap so too; and though the least of future Acquists would incomparably transcend the greatest Price that can be here given for it, yet the future Rewards will betwixt one another bear a proportion to the Occasions of them; and as the Fisherman is sure to lose what he throws into the Water, and is not sure to get by it any thing of greater Value than some Fishes; the Christian-Adventurer, (if I may so call him) may hope, though not confidently promise himself, in this World the hundred fold mentioned by our Saviour, as well as in the World to come Life everlasting. And therefore, if we do indeed in Saint Paul's Language, look, not to the things which are seen, which are but Temporary, but to the Invisible ones which are Eternal, we shall think that Exhortation of his very Rational, as well as very Pious, where, having Discoursed of the future and glorious State of the true Christians, he concludes, Wherefore, my beloved Brethren, be ye steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord; for as much as you know, that your Labour is not in vain in the Lord.   

DISCOURSE XV.  
Upon the Magnetical Needle of a Sun-Dyal.  
WE had not yet dismissed the Waterman, when Eugenius chancing to express a Curiosity, to know what a Clock it was, when we had freshly begun to Angle at our new Station; as Lindamor and the rest drew their Watches to satisfy his Question, so the Boat-man took out of his Pocket a little Sun-Dyal, furnished with an excited Needle to direct how to Set it, such Dial's being used among Mariners, not only to show them the hour of the Day, but to inform them from what quarter the Wind blows; upon the sight of this Dyal, my natural Curiosity invited me, after it had told me the hour, to try whether the Magnetic Needle were well touched, by drawing a little Penknife out of a pair of Twises I then chanced to have about me, and approaching it to the North point of the Needle, which according to the known custom of such Needles, readily followed it, or rested over against it, which way soever I turned the Penknife, or whereabout soever I held it still; Eusebius seeing me give myself this Diversion, came up to me to be a sharer in my sight, which no Familiarity can keep from being a Wonder: But after a while, he looked upon it in a way that made me think it presented him somewhat else than the hour of the Day, or the corner of the Wind; and I was confirmed in that thought, by seeing him apply to it the case of Lindamor's Watch, and then a Diamond-ring plucked from his own Finger, and in effect, he soon began to tell me; Methinks, Philaretus, this Needle may afford us a good direction in the choice of Companies: And that is a matter of such moment, that some Divines perhaps would question, whether or no the direction it gives Navigators to find the Poles, be of much greater Importance: For not only it has been truly observed, that the choice of ones Company does exceedingly discover whether a Man be Good, or Bad, Wise, or Foolish; but I shall venture to add, that it does very much contribute to make him what others say it declares him: For an assiduous Converse does insensibly dispose and fashion our Minds and Manners to a resemblance with those we delight to converse with, and there are few that have so much Resolution, as to disobey Customs and Fashions, especially when embraced by Persons that we love, and would be esteemed by, and from whose Opinions and Practices we can scarce descent constantly without impressing a Dislike, that threatens to make them dislike us. For my part, (says Lindamor) I have always thought there is great difference betwixt keeping Company with some Men, and choosing to do so; For whilst we Live in this World, we must often have to do with the Lovers of the World: But though to be cast by the Exigencies of our Callings upon bad Company, be an Infelicity without being a Fault, yet certainly, to choose such Company, and prefer it before that of wise and good Men, is in a high Degree both the one and the other. And I confess, (continues he) I cannot think, that the proper use of Conversation is but to pass away our time, not to improve it.  
You are certainly much in the right, (subjoins Eusebius) for though too many of those that are now cried up for good Company, do either so dissuade us from good and serious things, or so divert us from them, that 'tis oftentimes counted a piece of Indiscretion to say any thing that may either enrich Men's Understandings, or awaken their Consciences; yet I cannot but think, that Conversation may be, as well as aught to be, rescued from being an Instrument to promote Idleness and Vice; and, if Men were not wanting to themselves, I doubt not, it may be so ordered, that Conversation, which so often robs Men of their time, and so frequently of their Devotion, might be made a great Instrument of Piety, and Knowledge, and become no less Useful than 'tis wont to be Pleasant.  
To make Companies (replies Lindamor) such as you think they may be, they must grow very different from what most commonly they are: For, not to speak of those loose and profane ones, where Virtue and Seriousness are openly derided, and any thing, how contrary soever to Piety, or right Reason, may be used, not only with toleration, but applause, if Men can bring it out, I say not in Jest, (for they are seldom more in earnest) but neatly wrapped up in Raillery; even in those civiller sorts of Company, where Vice is not professedly maintained, you shall seldom, during a long stay, hear any thing that is really worth carrying away with you, or remembering when you are gone. And to Discourse of any thing that is Grave enough, either to exercise Men's Intellects, or excite their Devotion, is counted a piece of Indiscretion, that is wont to be more carefully avoided than almost any thing that is really such; so, that even in such Companies, the Innocentest use that we are wont to make of our time, is, to lose it: And really, (continues Lindamor) when I consider how ensnaring the worse sort of Companies are, and how little, even those that do not openly defy Piety and Knowledge, are wont to cherish either of them; I begin to be reconciled to Hermit's, who fly from such Conversations as are so apt to make Men either Vicious, or at least Idle into those Solitudes, where they are not like to be Tempted, either to renounce their Devotion, or to suppress it, to entertain idle Thoughts, or stifle good ones: Nor could I without much Scruple, as well as Impatience, allow myself to spend some part of my time in such kind of entertainments as many spend most of theirs in, were it not, that looking upon Civility as a Virtue, and Hospitality as in some cases a Duty, and upon both of them as things of good report, I can think those hours they make me spend, may be justly cast upon their account, and that the Ceremonious and Insignificant conversations whereto they oblige me, may be undergone upon some such account as that, on which serious Parents converse and oftentimes play with their Children; for, as though the things they do, are in themselves trivial, and useless, yet they may be justifiable Effects of a paternal care to still a Child, or keep him from harming himself; so the Duty of exercising of Civility makes me look upon as justifiable, though unpleasant, those Expressions of it, which, in themselves considered, I could not Reflect on without Indignation, and could not but think very much below any Man, whom Education has fitted for the exercise of Reason, or whom Religion has elevated to the hopes of Heaven.  
But it may (says Eusebius) on the other side be represented, that since 'tis scarce possible not to meet sometimes with Companies that are not of the best sort, we should look upon those Necessities, as calls of Providence, to improve those Opportunities for the advantage of them we are engaged to converse with; for Nature, as well as Christianity, teaches us, that we are not Born only for ourselves, and therefore, as we ought often to converse with the best Men, to acquire Virtue and Knowledge, so we must sometimes converse with others, that we may impart them, and learn how much we are beholden to God's Goodness, that has so much discriminated us from other Men; and though we do not find that our Conversation does immediately and visibly reform those we converse with, yet it will not presently follow, that it is altogether ineffectual on them: For, besides that the seeds of Virtue and Knowledge, as well as those of Plants, may long seem to lie dead, even in those Soils wherein they will afterwards Flourish and Fructify, there may be at present a Good, though not a Conspicuous, Effect of your Discourse and Example. For when Men are hasting to Hell, he does them no small Service, that does so much as Retard their course, as Cordials, and other Medicines, may do good even to decrepit Old men, whom they cannot perfectly cure.  
And trust me, Lindamor, 'tis no such useless performance as you may think it, for a Man of known Piety and Parts, by conversing with the Children of this Generation, To dare to own Religion among those that dare to deride it; To keep alive and excite a witness for God and Good things in their Consciences; To let them see, and make them (at least inwardly) acknowledge, the Beauty of a pious, Industrious, and well-ordered course of Life; To convince them, that it is not for want of knowing the Vanities they dote on, that he despises them; To show, that a Man, that denies himself their sinful Jollities, can Live contented without them: And, (to dispatch) To manifest, by a real and visible Demonstration, that a virtuous and discreet Life is no unpracticable, no more than Melancholy thing, even in Bad times, and among Bad men. And says, Eusebius, to me it seems very considerable, that our Saviour himself, the great Author of our Faith, and Exemplar of our Piety, did not choose an Anchorites, or a Monastique Life, but a sociable and an affable way of conversing with Mortals, not refusing Invitations, even from Publicans, or to Weddings, and by such winning Condescensions gained the Hearts, and thereby a Power to reform the Lives, of multitudes of those he vouchsafed to converse with.  
Other considerations (pursues Eusebius) might be represented to the same purpose with these: But since I promised you something of Direction, I suppose you will expect I should tell you, not what I could say, but what I do think. I will tell you then in few words, that though I think it as well possible as fit for Men of radicated Virtue, and fine Parts, to make sometimes a good use of bad Company, especially when their lawful occasions cast them into it; yet for others to be often engaged in such Company, though it may be but an Infelicity, is a very great one; and to choose such Company, is, what is worse than an Unhappiness, a Fault: But generally speaking, I would distinguish three sorts of Companies; for there are some, that not only are unable to improve me, but are unwilling to be improved themselves; A second sort there is, that are as well ready to learn, as able to instruct: And there are others, that, though they are not Proficients enough to teach me things worth my Learning, are yet desirous to be taught by me, the little that I know, and they ignore. Now, as the Magnetic Needle we were looking on, and which affords us the Theme of this Discourse, if you should apply a Loadstone to it, would be most powerfully attracted by that, because it can receive fresh Virtue from it; and even, if you approach a piece of Steel to it, the Needle will, though not so studiously, apply itself to it, from which, though it receives no Magnetic virtue, it can impart some to it: But if you offer it the Silver case of your Watch, or the Gold that makes up your Ring, or the Diamonds that are set in it, none of all these, how Rich or Glittering soever, will at all move the Needle, which suffers them to stand by unregarded; So I shall with the most of Cheerfulness, and Application, seek the Company of those that are qualified, to impart to me the Virtue or the Knowledge they abound with: Nor shall I refuse to entertain a Society with those few, that being such small Proficients as to need to learn of me, are also forward to do so. But those that can neither teach me any thing that is Good, nor are disposed to let me teach it them, how great a show soever they make, among those that make choice of their Companions by their Eyes; I may be cast-upon their Conversation, but shall very hardly choose it.   

DISCOURSE XVI.  
Upon the Quenching of Quicklime.  
I Had almost forgot to relate, that not far from the place where we went on Shore, and which we had not yet quitted, we saw divers heaps of Quicklime, some Smoking, and some that had not yet been Drenched in Water; and upon Enquiry of those that looked to it, we were soon informed, that the conveniency of the Neighbouring River, both for slacking of Lime, and conveying Mortar, had made the Owners bring their Lime thither, to be tempered and made fit for the Reparation of some Houses that we saw a little way off: But while we were talking, one of the Workmen began to throw Water upon one of the heaps that had not yet been Slacked, and afterwards poured on so much more as served quite to drown the Lime; and Eus●bius marking, both what he did, and what ensued upon it, took thence occasion to say to us; He that should see only the Effect of the first Effusion of cold Water upon quick Lime, would think, that by a kind of Antiperistesis, the Internal heat of the Lime is rather increased than suffocated by the Coldness and Moisture of the Water; for that which before was not taken notice of, to manifest any sensible warmth, as soon as its Enemy the Water begins to invade it, acquires a new heat and new forces in the Conflict, and not only shows a great Impatience, or Enmity, to that cold Liquor, by acting furiously upon it, and throwing off many parts into the Air, but prevails so far as to heat that cold Element itself, to that degree, as to make it Smoke and Boyl. But this Conflict is seldom near so lasting as 'tis eager; for if you have but the Patience to stay a while, you shall see the Lime, after it has spent its occasional Ardour, and after its Fire is quenched, lie quietly with, nay under, the Water, as cold and as moveless as it. Thus, when a devout Man, (especially if his Fervour be adventitious from Education, or Custom, as the Fire in the Lime from the Calcination) first falls into the Company of Persons, either Profane, or otherwise grossly Vicious, we often see, that his Zeal, instead of being smothered by such a rude and unaccustomed Opposition, seems rather to be excited and kindled thereby, and possibly seems more likely to impart the warmth of his Devotion to its Enemies than to lose any of it himself; but when he is constantly, or at least frequently, surrounded with such Company, you will too often see him lose as well his own Ardour as the endeavours of communicating it; and with those very Persons, that did at first kindle and exasperate his Zeal, you shall at last see him Live very quietly, and perhaps manifest as little of Religious warmth as they; and that which at first did so strangely exasperate and discompose him, becomes after a while so familiar, as not at all to move him.   

DISCOURSE XVII.  
Upon ones Talking to an Echo.  
WE had possibly dwelled longer upon such Reflections, had I not been suddenly diverted by the repeated Clamours of a Voice, which each of us imagined he had very often heard: Whereupon, as it were, by common consent, we began to look round about us, to see if any of our little Company were missing, and finding that Eugenius was so, we readily concluded the Voice we heard, though somewhat altered by distance, and other circumstances, to be his; and accordingly we hasted towards the place, whence we judged the Voice to proceed, that in case he were in any Distress, or had met with any Disaster, we might rescue or relieve him: But when we came near, we could now and then distinctly hear him speak some words so loud, and yet so incoherent and unable to complete a Sense, as if he meant that all thereabouts should hear him, and no Body understand him. This made us double our Curiosity, and our Pace, till at length we descried him all alone in a solitary corner, wherein yet his Loudness kept us from believing he sought privacy: But as soon as he discovered us, he seemed both surprised and troubled at it; coming to meet us, he first begged our pardon, if having been Louder than he thought, he had put us to a trouble he did not intend; and then Laughing, asked us, if we did not think him Mad: But Eusebius smiling, told him, that before we could answer that Question, we must ask one of him, which was, what he had been doing. Whilst you, (answers Eugenius) were (I doubt not) better employed, my natural Curiosity seduced me to spend some time in Ranging about the places near the Riverside, and as I was passing by this Field, the accidental Lowing of an Ox made me take notice, that this Neighbouring Hill and Wood, furnish this place with an excellent Echo, which I at first tried only by Whooping and Hollowing; but afterwards diverted myself by framing my Questions so, as to make that Babbling Nymph (for so you know the Poets will have Echo to be) to Discourse with me.  
For my part, (says Lindamor) I should by no means like her Conversation, because that two Qualities she has, which to me would very much discommend it: And to prevent our ask him what those Qualities were, One of them, (says he) is, that she vouchsafes to Discourse indiscriminally with all comers that Talk to her, provided that they make Noise enough.  
You are much in the right, (says Eugenius) for that easiness of admitting all kind of Company, provided Men have boldness enough to intrude into ours, is one of the uneasiest Hardships, (not to say Martyrdoms) to which Custom has exposed us, and does really do more Mischief than most Men take notice off; since it does not only keep impertinent Fools in countenance, but encourages them to be very troublesome to wise Men. The World is pestered with a certain sort of Praters, who make up in Loudness what their Discourses want in Sense; and because Men are so easy Natured as to allow the hearing to their Impertinencies they presently presume that the things they speak are none; and most Men are so little able to discern in Discourse betwixt Confidence and Wit, that like our Echo, to any that will but talk loud enough they will be sure to afford answers. And, (which is worse) this readiness to hazard our Patience, and certainly lose our Time, and thereby encourage others to multiply idle words, of which the Scripture seems to speak threateningly, is made by Custom an Expression, if not a Duty, of Civility; and so even a Virtue is made accessary to a Fault.  
For my part, (subjoins Eugenius) though I think these Talkative people worse public Grievances than many of those for whose prevention, or redress, Parliaments are wont to be assembled, and Laws to be enacted; and though I think their Robbing us of our time as much a worse Mischief than those petty Thefts for which Judges condemn Men, as a little Money is a less valuable Good than that precious Time, which no sum of it can either purchase or redeem; yet I confess, I think that those of our great Lords and Ladies, that can admit this sort of Company, deserve it: For if such Persons have but minds in any measure suited to their Qualities, they may safely, by their Discountenance, banish such pitiful Creatures, and secure their Quiet, not only without injuring the Reputation of their Civility, but by advancing that of their Judgement. And I fear, (continues Eugenius) that those who decline this Employment (and indeed Improvement) of their Titles, or other kinds of Eminency, do by their Remissness more harm than they imagine; For though the Judgement and Company of such Persons, be not always the best grounded, or the best chosen, yet their Quality or Station in the World makes it usually the most conspicuous, and the most considered. And I doubt not, there is no such Multitude of disinterest Lovers of Good things, but that there will be the fewer found Studious to express Wit and Virtue in Conversation, when they see, that in the Estimate of those that are looked upon as the chief Judges of what is or is not good Company, the most empty and impertinent Prattle with confidence, or loudness, procures a Man at least as good a Reception as the best and most rational Discourse without it. And, which is yet worse, that Tyrannous thing, which we misname Civility, has so degraded Reason, as well as displaced Piety, in Conversation, that if there be never so many Persons together, entertaining themselves with rational or instructive Discourse, in case there come in but one impertinent Creature that is below it, all these shall sink themselves to his Level, and as much debase their Discourse, as if they believed it fitter, that all the rational Conversers should forego the Exercise and the Benefit of their Wit and Virtue, than that a Fool should not appear to talk as wisely as any of them; and thus they seemed ashamed of their Attainments, instead of making him ashamed of his Ignorance, and reducing him to improve himself into a capacity of being fit for their Company; whereas, from a contrary practice, they might derive the great Advantage, either of freeing themselves from uninvited Companions, or of making them worth the having.  
But, (subjoins Lindamor) I remember I told you there was a second Quality, that I disliked in the Nymph I found you entertaining, and that is, that, when I will, I can make her speak to me, just what I please. I know (replies Eugenius) that a moderate degree of Complaisance, is not only in many cases allowed us by Discretion, but necessary to keep up the Pleasantness, not to say the very Peace, of humane Societies; For if all Men, at all times, spoke their Minds freely, and did not soften one another by concealing their mutual Dislikes, and Dissents, and by certain outward Expressions of Kindness, or Respect, made by Compliments and Gestures, Men have so many Imperfections, and so much Self-love with all, that scarce any two of them would endure one another; Nay, and in spite of that Indulgence, which provident Nature has implanted in all Animals, for the preservation of their Species, in that of the Individuals that compose it, and as much as our own Faultiness has added to that Fondness; yet, I doubt, we shall scarce find one Man of a thousand, that would endure so much as himself, if we did not for the most part exercise Complaisance within our own Breasts, and did not as much flatter ourselves, and disguise ourselves, to ourselves, as we flatteringly disguise ourselves to others.  
But, (continues Eugenius) when all this is said, I may endure, but I shall scarce choose and prise a Companion, that, like an Echo, uses no liberty of his own, but allows me to direct whatever I would have to be answered me: And I know not whether I could not better like one that would ever descent from me, than one that would never do so; I cannot look upon him either as my Friend, or as Person worthy to be made so, who never evinces his being more concerned to advantage me, than to please me, by making use of the liberty of a Friend, and thereby showing, that he considers not barely himself, but me; besides, that as there is no true Friendship where there is not an Union of Affections, so methinks there can be no good Company where there is not sometimes a Dissent in Opinions.  
Eusebius, that was a Friend to Seriousness, without being an Enemy to Pleasantness, gathering from the long Pause made by his Friends, that they designed not the prosecuting of this Discourse any further; Methinks, Gentlemen, (says he, Smiling) you are very severe to a harmless Nymph, who is so modest, and reserved, that she will never put you upon beginning a Conference with her, and so Complaisant in it, that 'tis your own fault if ever she says any thing to you, that displeases 〈◊〉, and for my part, (continues he) I have that opinion of humane things, that as I think there are very few so perfect, but that we may find something in them fit to be shunned, so there are not many so imperfect, but that they may suggest to us somewhat or other, that may not be unworthy of our imitation; and as Lindamor has taken notice of two Qualities in our Echo, which discommended it to him, so I have observed as many, that I rather approve than dislike.  
For, in the first place, 'tis evident, that our Nymph (however Eugenius has been pleased to miscall her a Babbler) is much less Talkative than most of her own Sex, or indeed of ours; for she never begins to talk with any Body, not speaking unless she be spoken to. He that considers how much of the Discourse that wastes Men's time, and entertains the most Companies with the most applause, consists of Talk that tends either to flatter those that are present, or detract from the absent, or to censure our Superiors, or our Betters, or to express our own Profaneness, or to excite the Pride or Carnality of others; and he that shall consider, that though by these and many other ways we are extremely apt to offend in words, yet we must give an Account for that kind of words, what sort soever bemeant by them, which our Translators render Idle ones; and that the Judge himself tells Men, that they shall by their words, as well as by their actions, be justified, or condemned; will easily believe, that if Silence were as much in Fashion as 'tis charitable to Mankind to wish it, the Regions of Hell would be far thinlier Peopled than now they are like to be.  
I could tell you, that Silence discovers Wisdom, and conceals Ignorance, and 'tis a property that is so much belonging to wise Men, that even a Fool, when he holdeth his peace, may pass for one of that sort; And I could easily add I know not how much in the commendation of this excellent Quality, if I knew how at the same time to praise Silence, and to practise it; so that it may well pass for an excellency in the Nymph, whose Apology I am making, that she does not speak but when it is necessary she should, I mean, when she is spoken to, in such a way as does exact her answer.  
But this is not all the good qualities of our Echo; for as she rarely speaks but when 'tis expected she should, so she seldom repeats above a small part of what is said to her; this I account a very seasonable piece of Discretion, especially in such treacherous and fickle times as ours, where, almost as if he thought himself fit to be an universal Statesman, such a one concerns himself very needlessly for almost all the public Quarrels in Christendom, and shows himself zealous for a party which will receive no advantage by his disquiets; and not content like a Merchant-venturer, his Passion may upon this account make him a Sufferer by what happens in the Remotest parts of the World; In our own fatal Differences, (which 'tis almost as unsafe to speak freely of, as 'tis unhappy to be involved in them) he will on needless occasions declare, with his Opinion, his want of Judgement, and perhaps Ruin himself with those under whose Protection he lives, by spreading Reports, and maintaining Discourses, that rendered him suspected among those, who think that a Man must wish their Forces should be beaten, if he can think they may have been so; Nay, I have known some, that, though put into considerable Employments, could not hold talking of their own Party, at a rate of freedom which those that have so much Innocence as not to deserve it, will scarce have so much Goodness as to support it: So that methinks, these Men deal with their Fortunes as Children oftentimes do with their Cards, when having taken a great deal of pains to build fine Castles with them, they themselves afterwards ruin them with their Breath.  
It may be a greater without being a more prejudicial price of Folly, to believe all that one hears, than to report all that one believes; and especially, those are to be censured for want of our Nymphs reservedness, by whom it loses that name; for though those kind of Men make sure by their way of Talking, to make others take notice how much they are confided in by their own party, yet sure they would take a discreeter course, if they did but consider, that the proof they give, that they are trusted with secrets, is, that they are unfit to be so.   

DISCOURSE XVIII.  
Upon a Giddiness occasioned by looking attentively on a rapid Stream.  
THese thoughts of Eusebius suggested so many to Lindamor, and me, that to entertain ourselves with them, we walked silently a good way along the Riverside; but at length, not hearing any more the Noise his Feet were wont to make in going, turning myself to see what was become of him, I perceived him to be a pretty way behind me upon the River's brink, where he stood in a fixed Posture, as if he were very intent upon what he was doing. And 'twas well for him, that my curiosity prompted me to see what it was that made him so attentive; for, before I could quite come up to him, me-thought I saw him begin to stagger, and though that sight added wings to my Feet, yet I could scarce come time enough to lay hold on him, and, by pulling him down backwards, rescue him from falling into the River. The shrieck I gave at the sight of my Friend's danger, was, it seems, loud enough to reach Eusebius' Ears, who, turning his Eyes towards the place whence the Noise came, and seeing Lindamor upon the Ground, made hastily towards us, and came up to us by that time I had helped Lindamor up, and before I had received from him the obliging Acknowledgements he was pleased to make me for a piece of service that I thought had in it more of Recompense than Merit. Eusebius hearing what passed betwixt us, joined his thanks to Lindamor's, and at the same time congratulated my Friend for his escape, and me for having, to use his Expressions, had the honour and satisfaction to be such a Person as Lindamor's Deliverer. But after our Expressions of Joy for his escape were over, Eusebius and I had both a curiosity to learn particularly the occasion of his Danger, which he told us in these words; As I was thinking, Eusebius, on your last Reflection, I was diverted from prosecuting my Walk in Philaretus' Company, by happening to cast my Eyes on a part of the River, where the Stream runs far more swiftly than I have all this Day taken notice of it to do any where else, which induced me to stop a while, to observe it the more leisurely: And coming nearer, I found the Rapidness of the Current to be such, notwithstanding the depth of the Water, that I stood thinking with myself, how hard it were for one to escape, that should be so unlucky as to fall into it: But whilst I was thus musing, and attentively looking upon the Water, to try whether I could discover the Bottom, it happened to me, as it often does to those that gaze too steadfastly on swift Streams, that my Head began to grow giddy, and my Legs to stagger towards the River, into which questionless I had fell, if Philaretus had not seasonably and obligingly prevented it. Something like this (says Eusebius) does not unfrequently happen in the unwary consideration of some sorts of sinful Objects, especially those suggested by Atheism and Lust: For not only we oftentimes consider Atheistical suggestions, and entertain Libidinous fancies, without any intention to quit our Station, or the secure and solid Basis of Religion, and Chastity; but we are often inclinable to think, that we converse with these Objects only to discern their Formidableness the better, and fortify our Resolutions to shun them. And yet such is the pernicious Nature of Atheism, and of Lust, that they turn our Brains, and oftentimes, if Providence, or Christian prudence, do not seasonably interpose, we may unawares fall into the Mischief, even by too attentively surveying its greatness, and may be swallowed up by the danger, even whilst we were considering how great it is. To parley with such fascinating Enemies, though with a design to refuse them, and strengthen our Aversion to them, is against the Laws of our Christian warfare: And though it be not as criminal, may often prove as fatal, as to hold Intelligence with the Enemy. 'Tis true, that the deformity of both these Sins is such, that all their Ugliness cannot be taken notice of at first sight: But the discovery is more dangerous than necessary, since a little knowledge of their Hideousness is enough to make every honest Heart abhor them. And since their less obvious Deformities are more dangerous to be pried into, than necessary to be known, let us fear to learn of these deluding Sins, more than we need know to hate them, and remember, that even those that are frighted by seeing Faces recently marked with the small Pox, may, notwithstanding that fear, catch the Disease with that sight.   

DISCOURSE XIX.  
Upon ones Drinking water out of the Brims of his Hat.  
WE were by this time come back to the Baited places we had left, when Eugenius, to whom his Rambling up and down, added to the heat of the Day, had given a vehement Thirst, spying a place where the Banks were very low, and almost level with the Surface of the Water, left us for a little while to repair thither; and Kneeling upon the Ground, he took up with his Hat, which by Cocking the Brims he turned into a kind of Cup, such a proportion of Water that he quenched his Thirst with it; and carelessly throwing the rest upon the Ground, quickly returned towards the Company, which he found he had not left so silently, but that our Eyes had been upon him all the while he was absent; and that sight afforded Eusebius an occasion to tell us, Our friend Eugenius, might, if he had pleased, by stooping lower with his Head, have Drank immediately out of the entire River; but you see he thought it more safe, and more convenient, to Drink out of a rude extemporary Cup; and that this way sufficed him fully to quench his Thirst, we may easily gather, by his pouring away of some remaining Water as superfluous: And 〈◊〉 he should tell us, that he could not have quenched his Thirst with a sufficient quantity of Water, because he Drank it not out of the River, but out of his Hat; I doubt not, you would think him troubled with a more formidable Distemper than Thirst, and conclude him in a greater need of Physic than of Water.  
Thus (resumes Eusebius) to a sober Man, provided he have a Competency of Estate suited to his Needs and Condition, it matters not very much whether that Competency be afforded him by a moderate or by an exuberant Fortune, and oftentimes 'tis more safe and convenient, and no less satisfactory, to receive this Competency out of that which is but a little, than out of that which is a great deal more than enough; for not only the necessities of Nature are few, but her capacities are limited. And therefore, how much soever you have of Meat, and Drink, and the like accommodations; the Body of a Man can enjoy but a certain, and that too no very great, Measure of them, proportioned to the Cravings of our stinted Nature, by more than which 'tis not the Body, but the unruly Fancy, that is Gratified; as when the Stomach is satisfied, a Table full of untouched Dishes feeds but a Man's Eye, or his Pride; and if he should Cram a little part of it into his Stomach, it would but be Nauseated at first, and afterwards breed ill Humours and Diseases. And accordingly, 'tis no less than Solomon that says, When Goods increase, they are increased that Eat them; and what Good is there to the Owners thereof, saving the beholding of them with their Eyes? I dare not absolutely (pursues he) condemn those that think not the necessities of Nature the only Measures of a Competency of Fortune; for though he that wants not them, wants a just cause to quarrel with Providence, yet Custom has so Entailed some ways of Expense upon some Stations in the World, that since a Man can scarce Live without Them, and yet without Disgrace, there are but few who are so great Stoics, or such mortified Christians, as not to think, that what is more than enough for one, may be less than enough for another, and as not to estimate their having or wanting a Competency, not only by the Exigencies of Nature, but by those of a Man's particular Quality, or Station. But (subjoins Eusebius) he that has, in this liberal sense, a sufficiency of outward Goods, is methinks but ill advised, as well as unthankful, if he repine at his Portion, because it is inferior to those of the famously Rich: For though an unwieldy Affluence may afford some empty Pleasure to the Imagination, (for to the Body it scarce affords any at all) yet that small Pleasure is far from being able to countervail the Embittering cares that attend an overgrown Fortune: For whatever the unexperienced may imagine, the frequent and sad Complaints of the Rich themselves sufficiently manifest, that 'tis but an uneasy Condition, that makes our Cares necessary for things that are merely superfluous; and that Men, whose Possessions are so much spread and displayed, are but thereby exposed the fairer and wider Marks that may be hit in many places by misfortune. Nor will Carelessness secure them, since a provident concern of a Man's Estate, though it be great, being by the Generality of Men looked upon as a Duty, and a part of Prudence, he cannot suffer himself to be wronged or cheated of that, without losing, with his Right, his Reputation.  
For my part, (says Lindamor) I do the more wonder to see Men so greedy of Lading themselves, as the Scripture speaks, with thick Clay, that they Hoard up their Treasures from those uses which alone make Riches worthy the Name of Goods, and Live by a temper quite contrary to that of Saint Paul, As having all things, and possessing nothing. When I consider the things they pretend to by this as mean as unchristian Appetite; The two chief of these, are wont to be, The keeping of a great House, and the leaving their Children great Matches. As to the former, though others are too much advantaged by it not to extol it, and though it be sometimes indeed in some cases a decent, and almost necessary, piece of Greatness, yet 'tis in my opinion one of the most unhappy Attendants that retain to it; for the Laws of Hospitality, and much more those of Custom, turns him that keeps a great Table into an Honourable Host, subjects him to comply with the various and oftentimes unreasonable Humours of a succession of Guests, that he cares not for at all, and that care as little for him; it brings him in a world of Acquaintance, to whom he must own himself obliged, because they come to Eat his Meat, and must really requite them, by giving them the preciousest thing he has to part with, his Time: And a full Table, together with the Liberties that Custom allows at it, if not exacts there, tempt him both to Indulgence to his Appetite, prejudicial to his Health, and if they do not prevail with him to speak, do often at least to dispose him to hear, and to connive at, such free Discourses as are prejudicial to his Interests; so that there is more than one account upon which a great Entertainer may be involved in David's Curse, against his mortal Enemy, of having his Table become a Snare.  
And for the design (continues Lindamor) of laying up vast Estates for a Man's Children; if they be Sons, he thereby but increases their Temptation to wish the Father Dead, and provides Incentives to their Vice, and Fuel for their Excesses, when he is so: And if they be Daughters, not to repeat the newly mentioned Inconveniences; how many unhappy young Women have we seen, who, upon the score of the vast Portions left them by their Parents, have been betrayed, and sold by their Guardians, or by those Relations that should have been, as they were called, their Friends? and how often have we also seen, that an unwieldy Fortune has been so far from Purchasing the Heir to it a good Husband, that it has procured her a Bad one, by making her think herself obliged and qualified to Match with some high Title, and procuring her to be Haunted by some, whose Vices perhaps alone have reduced him to Sell himself to redeem his Fortune, and to make an Address which aims but at the Portion, not the Person; and accordingly, when he has got the one, he slights the other, and despises her for the want of that high Extraction she prized in him, and perchance hates her too, for confining him from some former and more than pretended Passion.  
I perceive then, Lindamor, (says Eusebius) that you are, as well as I, disposed to think him not a mere Fool, that prayed God to give him neither Poverty, nor Riches, but to supply him with things suitable to his Condition, Prov. 30. 8. (That seeming to be the meaning of the Hebrew Phrase;) A pinching Poverty, and a luxuriant Fortune (though different Extremes) being liable to almost equal Inconveniences, and a Competency affording us enough to engage us to Thankfulness, without Administering such Temptations to Sensuality and Pride.   

DISCOURSE XX.  
On seeing Boys swim with Bladders.  
THe Sun was yet so near the Meridian, that if the Attention Eusebius' Discouses excited, had not diverted us from minding the heat of the weather, we should have found it troublesome; and in effect, soon after we had left listening to the conferences I have been repeating, we begun to feel a heat, uneasy enough to oblige us to retire from it: But taking several ways, as Chance or Inclination directed us, to shun the same inconvenience, it was my Fortune to hold the same course with Lindamor, and both of us, by following no Guide, but the design of shunning all beaten Paths, and unsheltered Grounds, that being the likeliest way to reach our double end of Coolness and Privacy; after we had a while walked somewhat near the Riverside, we were at length brought to a Shady place, which we should have found, as well as we wished it, a Solitude, if others had not concurred with us in the same hopes; for the Expectation of Privacy had brought thither divers, whom the Sun's scorching heat invited to that cool and retired part of the River, where they hoped to shun all other Eyes, as well as that of Heaven; among those Swimmers we observed some Novices, who, to secure their first Attempts, had Bladders tied under their Arms, to keep them from sinking any lower. This sight (says Lindamor, after he had a while mused upon it) hath Circumstances in it, that methinks are applicable enough to the Education of many of the young Ladies of these times; of whose faults, the Excellent Celia, and all the others, that you and I can think worth our Concern, are free enough to let me entertain you without Rudeness of them; the Commonness of these Blemishes ennobling those few that are exempted from them. You cannot then (continueth Lindamor) but have observed with me, that many of those young Ladies, whose Parents, out of a mistaken Zeal, condemn that which at the Court was wont to be called good Breeding, and Principles of Honour, as things below a Christian, and insufficient to bring their Possessors to Heaven, are so unluckily Bred, and so ill Humoured, as well as Fashioned, that an almost equally unhappy Education is requisite to make their Company tolerable: Civility, which is almost as Essential to a complete Lady, as her Sex, they are perfect Strangers to, or rude Despisers of it; and not only their Minds are not Imbued with those Principles of Friendship, Generosity, and Honour, which make some of their Sex so Lovely, and so Illustrious in Story, and of which more Ladies would be capable, if more were taught them; but these are utterly uninstructed in the Laws of what the French call Bein scance, and are altogether unpractised in that Civility, and suppleness of Humour, which is requisite to endear Conversation, and is so proper to the softer Sex. I must confess, (pursues Lindamor) that I never have been more puzzled how to behave myself then in their Company: The serious sort of Discourse, (even such as is to be found in our fresher and more polished Romances) they are utterly incapable of; And in the trifling and pitiful Prattle that alone is not above them, they are so Unsociable, so Indiscreet, and oftentimes so Bold, that in spite of the respect, such as Celia gives me for her Sex, I find in their Conversations as much Exercise for my Patience as my Chastity, and being tempted to put off the respect that belongs to Ladies, as they do the modesty, I find it more difficult to retain my Civility than my Liberty. The Bladders (resumes Lindamor) which young Swimmers use, are, 'tis confessed, but light and empty things, that are easily made useless; nay, though they help beginners, they are Clogs to skilful Swimmers, and yet these Trifles are they that hinder Novices from sinking into the Mud: Thus Honour, though it be an Airy unsolid thing, nay, though it oftentimes proves a hindrance to great Proficients in Christianity, yet to Persons that have not yet attained to higher Principles, it is an excellent support, and hinders them from sinking into many Meannesses, and Miscarriages, into which, those especially of the fairer Sex, that want a due sense of Honour, are too apt to be precipitated: You know what Lord told his accused Lady, that he knew she was too proud to be a Whore. And certainly, though Principles of Gallantry include not all Virtues, yet they avert those they sway from grosser Vices: And though to be well Bred, be not to be a Saint, but incomparably inferior to it; yet to be both, is more desirable than to be the latter only: And they are very unwise, who, before they are sure their Children will admit the higher and more perfect Principles of Religion, neglect to give them that Education that may render Moral Accomplishments acceptable to Them, and Them to well bred Company, lest by proving indisposed to Spiritual graces, their not having been taught the Moral Ornaments of the Mind, leave them destitute of all good Qualities.    

THE TRANSITION Containing A DISCOURSE Upon the Sports being interrupted by Rainy weather.  
NOtwithstanding the Serenity and Promisingness of the Morning we came out in, we have already upon the Water had one proof of the unsettl'dness of the Wether, and now upon the Land we meet with another: For, by that time Lindamor was come somewhat near the end of his Discourse, he was obliged to hasten to it, by the approach of a Cloud, whose Largeness and Blackness threatened us with an imminent Shower: Nor did it give us a false Alarm, for by that time we could recover the next Shelter, the Shower we fled from, began to fall violently enough upon the Trees, we were retired to. And this unwelcome accident reducing us all to look about us, we quickly saw, to our Grief, that not only the Rain but the Clouds were increased, and the Sky being almost every where overcast, left us no way to escape the inconveniences it threatened us with, but the making with what haste we could towards the place, over which we perceived smoke enough, to conclude there was some Village beneath it: And finding at our Arrival thither, as good an Inn, as we could reasonably expect in such a place, after we had a while dried ourselves by the Fire, Eugenius (to whom Exercise and the time of the Day had given a good Stomach) moved the Company, that in spite of the meanness of the House, we might rest ourselves there, till we had Dressed the Fish we had taken, to make up the best Dinner the place would afford: This motion I did not alone readily assent to, but seconded it, by representing, that probably by that time we had Dined, we should either recover some fair Wether, or lose the hopes of regaining it for that Day. To which I added other considerations to persuade the Company, though, That indeed which prevailed with me, was, the expectation of having an opportunity while Dinner was providing, to retire, as I soon after did, into another Room, and set down in short hand, what I have hitherto been relating, lest either delay should make the particulars vanish out of my Memory, or they should be confounded there by the accession of such new Reflections, as, in case a fair Afternoon should invite us to return to the River, Eusebius would probably meet with Occasions of presenting us. But before I could handsomely slink away, I happened to be entertained a while with some things of the like Nature with those I was about to set down: For this unwelcome change after so glorious and hopeful a Morning, did naturally suggest to all of us, some thoughts of the Mutability and Fickleness of Prosperity, and how easily, as well as quickly, we may be deprived of that we cannot easily part with. But whilst the rest of us were entertaining themselves with these thoughts, Eugenius, who was more concerned than any other of us, for the sport he came for, having a good while looked with melancholy Eyes upon this change, began to repine and murmur at the interruption, which the persisting Rain continued to give him in it: Whereupon Lindamor took occasion to say, for my part, if I could dissipate these Clouds with a wish, I should scruple at the Ridding myself of them, even at so easy a Rate: For I see, that the Gaping clefts of the parched Ground do, as it were with so many Mouths, proclaim its need of the Rain you repine at. And I always (continues he) am ready to join with the Husbandman in his wish, as well for Rainy as for fair Wether, and am so much a Commonwealth's Man, that I had rather at any time not escape a Shower, than let him want it.  
You are I confess, (says Eugenius) now I think a little better on it, in the right, and have more reason to be discontented at my Impatience, than I at the Wether; for we should, even in these lesser Occasions, as well as on greater, Exercise self-denial, and prefer a public good to our private conveniences: And indeed it were far better, that I should miss some Fishes, than that thousands of Families should miss of Bread.  
Eusebius, that had hitherto listened to what was said, being unwilling, that his Friend's Ingenuity should make him any longer accuse himself, told him, (to divert the Discourse) This accident, Eugenius, was suggesting to me, a thought, wherewith I shall not scruple to acquaint you, and the Company. For (continues he) as pleasant, and as much desired, as fair Wether is wont to be, and as much as we use to be discontented at a lowering and dropping sky, yet the one is no less necessary nor useful in its season, than the other. For too uninterrupted a course of Heat, and Sunshine, would make the season fruitful in nothing, but in Caterpillars, (or such kind of Vermin) and in Diseases, and is far more proper to fill Graves, than Barns: Whereas seasonable vicissitudes of Clouds, and cloudy Wether, make both the Ground fruitful, and the Season healthful. Thus in our outward Condition, too long and constant a prosperity is wont to make the Soul Barren of all, but such Wantonnesses as 'tis ill to be fruitful of, and the interposition of seasonable Afflictions is as necessary, and advantageous, as it can be unwelcome. But (pursues Eusebius) the consideration that chiefly entertained me, was this, That as here, to make the Earth fruitful, the face of Heaven must be now and then obscured, and overcast, we must be deprived of the welcome pleasure of the Sun to receive the fertilizing Benefit of the Rain; so such is our condition here below, that our perverseness makes it necessary, that God should oftentimes appear to frown upon us, to make us fruitful in those Works, to which he is pleased to vouchsafe his smiles. But, Oh! (concludes Eusebius, lifting up his eyes and hands towards Heaven) how happy shall we be in that glorious and everlasting Day, when our Condition shall be as blessed in not requiring Vicissitudes as in not being subject to them. When the Sunshine alone shall perform all that is wont to be done here both by it, and by the Rain; and the Soul, like Egypt, being fruitful without the assistance of the Clouds, we shall not need to have our joys Eclipsed, to have our Graces kept from being so, or to make our Light shine the brighter: But each blessed Soul shall be emblem'd by that Vision in the Revelations, where St. John saw an Angel standing in the Sun, we shall not then need to have our Love weaned from inferior or undue Objects, by any Experience of their Imperfections; since the clear Discovery that God will vouchsafe us of his own Excellencies will abundantly suffice to confine our Affections to them: And since the works wherein we are to be fruitful in Heaven will be but to admire and thank him, that is infinite in Beauty, and in goodness, the perfecter sight and fruition we shall have of his astonishing as well as ravishing Attributes, will but proportionably increase our Wonder, and our Praises, and will naturally make us as Grateful For such a state as happy In It.   

OCCASIONAL REFLECTIONS.  
The V. SECTION.  

REFLECTION I.  
Upon the sight of N. N. making of Syrup of Violets.  
ONE that did not know the Medicinal Virtues of Violets, and were not acquainted with the Charitable Intentions of the skilful person, that is making a Syrup of them, would think him a very great Friend to Epicurism: For his Employment seems wholly designed to gratify the senses. The things he deals with are Flowers and Sugar, and of them he is solicitous to make a Composition that may delight more than one or two Senses; For in One Syrup he endeavours to please the Eye, by the loveliness of the Colour; the Nose, by the perfume of the Scent; the Taste, by as much sweetness as Sugar can impart. But he that knowing that Violets, though they please the Palate, can purge the Body, and notwithstanding their good smell, can expel bad humours, knows also that the Preparer of these fragrant Plants, in making their Juice into a Syrup, is careful to make it acceptable, that its pleasantness might recommend it, and invite even those to prove its Virtues, who had rather continue sick, than make Trial of a disgusting Remedy; will not blame his Curiosity, but commend his prudent Charity; since he doubly obliges a Patient, that not only presents him Remedies, but presents him Allurements to make use of them.  
If I see a person that is Learned and Eloquent, as well as Pious, busied about giving his Sermons, or other devout Composures, the Ornaments and Advantages which Learning or Wit do naturally confer upon those productions of the Tongue, or Pen, wherein they are plentifully and judiciously employed; I will not be forward to condemn him of a mis-expense of his Time or Talents; whether they be laid out upon Speculative Notions in Theology, or upon Critical Inquiries into Obsolete Rites, or Disputable Etymologies; or upon Philosophical Disquisitions or Experiments; or upon the florid Embellishments of Language; or (in short) upon some such other thing as seems extrinsical to the Doctrine that is according to Godliness, and seems not to have any direct tendency to the promoting of Piety and the kindling of Devotion. For I consider, that as God hath made man subject to several wants, and hath both given him several allowable appetites, and endowed him with various faculties and abilities to gratify them; so a man's Pen may be very warrantably and usefully employed, though it be not directly so, to teach a Theological Truth, or incite the Reader's Zeal.  
And, besides what I have been alleging, there is a further and more principal Consideration which belongs to this matter. For even wise men may prosecute the same design, without doing it all of them the same way; and the several Means and Methods they employ, notwithstanding a great Difference in other particulars, may agree in this, That the Respective Choosers of them had each of them a good Aim, and proceeded in a rational way. Though therefore I see a man of good parts, studious of learning, or of practising, the Precepts of Eloquence, and spend much time in reading florid Composures, or in making such; I dare not be forward to censure him, for an effeminate or useless Writer. For there are so many things pious or laudable, and so many ways whereby some or other of them may either be directly promoted, or indirectly served, by removing Objections, or other Impediments, that 'tis not easy to be sure that a Rational Man cannot have as well a Rational as a well-meant design to instruct, if not reform, in those very Composures that seem fitted only to delight. There being a Nicer sort of Readers which need Instruction (and to whom 'tis therefore a Charity to give it) who are so far from being likely to be prevailed on by Discourses not tricked up with Flowers of Rhetoric, that they would scarce be drawn so much as to cast their eyes on them.  
A while before Esther made that generous Attempt, wherein, to rescue the people of God, she hazarded a Throne, to which above an hundred other People's paid homage, and ventured at once the greatest Crown and the fairest Head in the world; One that had seen only what she was doing, without knowing why she did it, would perchance have thought her employed, more like a Disciple of Epicurus, than of Moses, whose People and her own was then in a forlorn and gasping condition. For the Scripture telling us, 
Est. 5. 1.  that she put on her Royal apparel, and the Tenor of the story intimating with what aim she did it, we may well suppose that she was not sparing in Jewels, and other of the richest Ornaments, on an Occasion where her Quality exacted that she should appear with a Magnificence befitting the greatest Princess in the world; and that she was very curious in a Dress that was to heighten her Beauty, when by That, with the Giver's assistance, she was upon her knees to dazzle the world's greatest Monarch on his Throne, and make Him pay Homage to her Charms, to whom above an hundred Nations had presented their fairest Productions, (the brightest Nymphs of the East.) And those that have read any thing of the Asiatic Luxury, will easily believe our pious Queen to have been also very solicitous about the choice and ordering of her Sweetmeats, when she was to treat an Asian Monarch, who had treated the whole People of the chief City of the world for many days together, and as many Princes as made up the Noblest part of Mankind for above twenty times as long: and yet this Magnificent Queen, th●a seemed busied about none but sensual Employments, had so commendable a Design both in her Ornaments and in her Banquets, that so meritorious an Employment of her Greatness showed her to be worthy of it; and as it appeared in the Event, that her Banquets did cooperate with her Fasts, and her Royal Robes with Mordecay's Sackcloth and Ashes, to that happy rescue of her Nation, for which, after so many Ages, it doth to this day yearly celebrate her Memory. So whilst she seemed busied to gratify others sensuality and her own pride, her Disposition of Mind was so worthy the Success that crowned her Attempt, that at the same time she was providing all that Pomp and those Delicacies, she was also providing to give them up, and sacrifice them, for the Interest of God's Church, and her People; generously venturing for the service of Heaven a Height of prosperity, for whose loss nothing but Heaven itself could make her amends.   

REFLECTION II.  
Upon the sight of a Paper-Kite in a windy day.  Eugenius, Lindamor. Eug. 
IF the Air were calm and quiet, this Kite would lie unregarded even by those very Youths, that now look at nothing else. But the wind that blows away straws and feathers, and throws down leaves, does even by its being contrary, help to raise this Paper-Engine to that admired height, which makes it be gazed at by many others, than Boys, and not only attract our eyes, but sometimes soar out of their reach. Thus, if a great Person, for Courage, or Parts, or both, have the ill fate to live in quiet, and peaceful times, he may long enough languish unregarded in an Age that needs him not. But if the times grow troublesome and dangerous, his generous spirit will not only surmount the difficulties that are wont to attend them, but be raised by them, and turn them into steps to Glory and Preferment.  Lind. 
Methinks, Eugenius, these Kites may afford us no less fit a resemblance of the fate of some Errors about Religion, especially if they chance to be maintained by Men that are resolute, and viceless. For there are some of these conceits so fond, and groundless, that they could not long subsist of themselves, and would soon cease to tempt a solemn Opposition, if they did not too soon meet with it. And as you were observing to another purpose, that these artificial Kites, which men take no notice of in calm weather, are both elevated and kept aloft by the blasts of contrary winds, so these erroneous Opinions I speak of, would, if they were let alone, grow quickly unregarded, whereas needless or ill managed Persecutions of Doctrine, not prejudicial to Government, (for 'tis only such that I mean) bring them into every body's Eye, and give them a Repute, that nothing else would have procured them, and make them be looked upon as things of a sublime and celestial nature, that lead to that Heaven, they seem to aspire to. To thrive by Persecution, though it be a great Advantage, yet it is not the incommunicable Prerogative of Divine Truths; And though it be certain that they get most by it, yet even Errors do often gain by it too, there being certain Advantages that accrue to Opinions, by being persecuted, without distinguishing whether they be true, or false. For men that are persecuted for their Religion, are generally careful to instruct themselves throughly in it, and furnish themselves with Arguments to defend it. The frowns of the Magistrate, and the watchful Eyes of their Adversaries, are strong dissuasives to them from doing any thing that may arm his hand, or provoke other's tongues against their Sect, to which they know their personal faults will be imputed. And above all this, their sufferings entitle them to popular commiseration, which is a thing that distress does so much invite, that even condemned Malefactors seldom want a share in it. And to some of these men Persecution is the more favourable, because it puts them upon fight with the weapons they can best handle. For some are far better at Suffering, than at Disputing, and can more easily endure a Prison, than answer a Syllogism. And as this Constancy is often their best Argument, so is it an Argument, that the Generality of Men best understand, and consequently is likely to be most wrought on by, so that the more harsh than effectual way wherein they are dealt with, gives them the opportunity to display a Resoluteness, that makes most men think them well meaning, and in earnest, and their own Party cry them up for Martyrs, or at least Confessors; which, in case that (as it happens in most States) scandalous sins be left unpunished at the same time, that Harmless Errors are so severely dealt with, gives them the fairer opportunity to insinuate into the minds of the people, that their Persecutors had rather see men vicious, than inquisitive. And, generally speaking, any personal sufferings that a wellmeaning man undergoes for what he judges his Conscience, is but such a kind of burden to his mind, as feathers are to an Eagle, or a Falcon, which though in themselves considered they have a weight, yet instead of clogging him, they not only help him to support himself, but enable him to soar towards Heaven, and reach a height that makes him praised or wondered at.   

REFLECTION III.  
Killing a Crow (out of a window) in a Hog's-trough, and immediately tracing the ensuing Reflection with a Pen made of one of his Quills.  
LOng and patiently did I wait for this unlucky Crow, wallowing in the sluttish Trough, (whose sides kept him a great while out of the reach of my Gun) and gorging himself with no less greediness, than the very Swinish Proprietaries of the Feast, till at length having guzzled and croaked enough, when by hover over his beloved Dainties, he had raised himself high enough, to prompt me to fire at him, my no less unexpected, than fatal shot, in a moment struck him down, and turning the Scene of his Delight into that of his Pangs, made him abruptly alter his Note, and change his triumphant Chant for a dismal and tragic Noise. This Method is not unusual to Divine Justice towards brawny and incorrigible Sinners, whose Souls no less Black, than this inauspitious Bird's feathers, do wear already the Livery of the Prince of Darkness, and with Greediness do the works of it, whose Delights are furnished (as the Feasts of Crows are by Carrion) by their own filthy lusts, or other people's faults, and who by the Oaths and Curses wherewith they offend Christian ears whilst they live, and by the ill odour they leave behind them when they are dead, do but too much justify my resembling them to these hateful Creatures. Such sensual and obdurate Epicures, I say, God ofttimes suffers to run on their long Carrier, in paths of their own choosing, without checking them in the fruition of those Joys, which are to be their only Portion, till at length their iniquity filling up the determinate measure, 
Gen. 15. 16  he cuts them off, in the height of their Enjoyments, and employing ofttimes their own sins for their Executioners, or at least Instruments of their Destruction, precipitates them headlong from the Pinnacle of their Delights, into the bottomless Pit, which one of their Predecessors (the rich man in the Parable) called, as he sadly found it, 
Luk. 16. 28  the Place of Torment, where the luscious sweets of sin, are so dearly reckoned for, and afford so much Bitterness in the latter end, 
2 Sam. 2. 26.  that their sense sadly convinces them, of (what their sensuality kept them from believing) the folly of gaining any thing at the rate of losing their own Souls. Thus the Israelitish Prince found a Nemesis bold enough to violate the Sanctuary, even of his Mistress' arms, and (regardless of its charms) enter that lovely Circle, their Kindness closed him in, 
Num. 25  to snatch him thence, and extinguish the lustful flames that lighted him thither, with the cold blasts of Death. Thus the mutinous Loathers of Manna, and lustres after flesh, had their wish severely granted, for they had indeed Quails served in by fieldsfull, but attended with so sudden and sharp a Reckoning, 
Num. 11. 33.  that whilst the flesh was yet between their teeth, ere it was chewed, Death hindered them to swallow it, choked them with it, and devoured them as greedily, as they did those Birds. Thus the insolent Philistines found themselves ill protected by their vainly celebrated God, 
Judges 16.  and his (much stronger) Temple, though in the latter there were thousands of them, without any other Enemy, than one, they had sent for to be a friend to their Mirth. For in the very midst of all the Triumphs of a solemn Festival (which had more properly been kept to Dililah) whilst they were insulting over captive Samson's Blindness, they could not see their own approaching Destiny, though it were then so near, that the next fit of Laughter had not time to pass to their Mouths, ere an unexpected Vengeance (the provoked Deity lending an Omnipotent Arm to Samson's hand) confounded in one Ruin, the Idol with the Worshippers, and suddenly turned the whole Temple into an Altar, with which the Priests themselves, fell surprised Sacrifices to that tragical Solemnity. And thus (to hasten from so sad a Theme) the revelling Belshazzar, in the midst of his Magnificent and Royal Feast, saw an intruding hand, which by its manner of appearing, as well as by what it wrote, was able to mar the Supper, without impairing the Dainties. And that Monarch, whom even a Siege could not reduce below a condition of Feasting, though he were carouzing in the consecrated Cups, had such a Brimmer of trembling put into his hand, as both presaged and perchance began the Destiny approaching him under the Ensigns of the Noble Cyrus, whose Conquering Sword, guided by Providence, and made the Sword of Justice, did that very same night, let out his Wine, and Blood, and Life together.  

Upon the same Subject.  
'TIs hard on such an occasion to avoid making some Reflection upon the Mutability of worldly Conditions! How little did this Crow imagine, a quarter of an hour since, that in so short a time, his Body should be as senseless, and as stinking Carrion, as that he was wont to feed it with; that his feathers should wear so unlucky a kind of Mourning for his Destruction, and that I should write his Epitaph with one of his own Quills! Sure since a few minutes can turn the healthiest Bodies into breathless Carcases, and put those very things into the hands of our Enemies, which were they that we principally relied on, for our safety, it were little less than Madness, to repose a distrustless Trust in these transitory Possessions, or treacherous Advantages, which we enjoy but by so fickle a Tenure. No; we must never venture to wander far from God, upon the Presumption that Death is far enough from us, but rather in the very height of our Jollities, we should endeavour to remember, that they who feast themselves today, may themselves prove Feasts for the Worms tomorrow.    

REFLECTION IU.  
Upon a Glow-worm that he kept included in a Crystal Viol. 
At Lees.   
IF this unhappy Worm had been as despicable as the other reptiles that crept up and down the Hedge, whence I took him, he might, as well as they, have been left there still, and his own Obscurity, as well as that of the Night, had preserved him from the confinement he now suffers. And if, as he sometimes for a pretty while withdrew that Luminous Liquor, that is as it were the Candle to this small dark Lantern, he had continued to forbear the disclosing of it, he might have deluded my search, and escaped his present Confinement.  
Rare Qualities may sometimes be Prerogatives, without being Advantages. And though a needless Ostentation of ones Excellencies may be more glorious, a modest Concealment of them is usually more safe: And an unseasonable disclosure of flashes of Wit, may sometimes do a Man no other service, than to direct his Adversaries how they may do him a mischief.  
And as though this Worm be lodged in a Crystalline Prison, through which it has the Honour to be gazed at by many Eyes, and among them, by some that are said to shine far more in the Day than this Creature does in the Night; yet no doubt, if he could express a sense of the Condition he is in, he would bewail it, and think himself unhappy in an excellency, which procures him at once Admiration and Captivity, by the former of which he does but give others a Pleasure, while in the latter he himself resents a Misery.  
This oftentimes is the fate of a great Wit, whom the Advantage he has of ordinary Men in Knowledge, the Light of the Mind exposes to so many effects of other Men's Importunate Curiosity, as to turn his Prerogative into a Trouble: The light that ennobles him, tempts Inquisitive Men to keep him, as upon the like score we do this Glow-worm, from sleeping: And his Conspicuousness is not more a Friend to his fame, than an Enemy to his quiet; for Men allow such much Praise, but little Rest. They attract the Eyes of others, but are not suffered to shut their own, and find, that by a very disadvantageous Bargain, they are reduced for that imaginary good, called Fame, to pay that real Blessing, Liberty.  
And, as though this Luminous Creature be himself imprisoned in so close a Body as Glass, yet the Light that ennobles him, is not thereby restrained from diffusing itself: So there are certain Truths, that have in them so much of native Light or Evidence, that by the personal Distresses of the proposer, it cannot be hidden, or restrained; but in spite of Prisons, it shines freely, and procures the Teachers of it Admiration, even when it cannot procure them Liberty.   

REFLECTION V.  
Upon a Courts being put into Mourning. 
Hague 1648.   
The I. PART. 
* For there was a second part of this Reflection, but when it was to be sent to the Press it could not be found, nor would the Presses haste, and the Author's occasions, allow him either to stay till it were found, or write a new one.   Genorio, Eusebius, Lindamor. Genor. 
MEthinks, you look, Eusebius, as if the change that Blacks have made in this place, since I last saw you here, tempts you to question whether or no this be the Court.  Lind. 
Yet, I fear, Eusebius will scarce doubt, that you, and these other Gentlemen are Courtiers, whilst he sees how much you dissemble in personating sadness: For though your clothes look mournful, your Faces do not, and you talk to one another as unconcernedly, as when you wore lighter Colours; and your Grief is so slight, that it has not an Influence so much as upon your looks, and words, which yet are things that Courtiers are said to be able to disguise without an over-difficult constraint.  Genor. 
But, I hope, Lindamor, I need not labour to persuade such as you, that, when we seem to mourn, without doing it, we may be thought guilty of dissimulation without being so: For what Duty is there, that you and I should be really troubled for the Death of a Prince, whose Subjects we were not, who never obliged us, and who perhaps did only keep the Power of doing Good, which himself never used, from a Successor that had the will to employ it. But you will demand, why then we put on Black, To which, the Answer is easy, that Custom having established that Ceremony in the Courts of Princes, in Amity with each other, the Omission would be looked upon as an Affront, and be a Provocation. And therefore, the Blacks we wear, are not meant to express a Grief for the Dead, but a Respect to their living Relations: And thus, this as heartless as solemn show of Mourning, is not put on by Hypocrisy, but by Prudence, or Civility. And in this case, I would appeal to Eusebius himself, but that I perceive some Object or other, has ever since we began to talk, engrossed his Attention, as well as sealed up his Lips.  Lind. 
I have taken notice of it, as well as you, Genorio, and I confess, I would give much to learn his Thoughts.  Euseb. 
'Tis odds then, Lindamor, that you would over-purchase so worthless a Knowledge: And to satisfy your Curiosity, at an easier rate, I will tell you, that I was observing, how a Gentleman, who, it seems, does not much frequent the Court, chancing to come in a Coloured suit, that, but last Week, would have been thought a fine one, was stared at by all in the room, except yourselves, whose Faces chanced to be turned from him, like a Man of another Country, (not to say of another World) which the poor Gentleman at length perceiving, he soon grew so sensible of it, that in spite of the Richness and Newness of his clothes, with many Blushes he slunk out of the Court, to which he found Men's gazing at him concluded him to be a Stranger.  Lind. 
But this, Eusebius, is only to tell us, what you observed, not what Reflections you made upon it, and you know, that which I was inquisitive after, was your Thoughts.  Euseb. 
I will add then, Lindamor, since you will have it so, that I was considering, that there has been no Law made by the State to forbid any, much less Strangers, to appear in this Court in Coloured clothes: And those, which the Gentleman I was speaking of, had on, were such, both for fineness, and fashionableness, as would very well become a greater Court, if it were not in Mourning. But, now the Prince, and those that have the Honour to belong to him, or to frequent this place, have put themselves into Blacks, to appear in another, though in a finer Habit, is, to betray ones not belonging to the Court, nor using to come to it; and among so many, that think they have a Right to give Laws in point of clothes, a Laced, or an Embroidered suit, though last Week in request, would now they have laid them by, make a Man look not so much like a Courtier, as a Player. And this Reflection invited me to consider further, what a strange Influence fashions have on Mankind, and what an happy change might be easily made in the World, if they, who have it in their Power to introduce Customs, would make it their Endeavour to introduce good ones.  Lind. 
I am so much of your mind, Eusebius, that I confess, I envy not Princes so much for the Splendour and the Pleasures that they live in, nor for the Authority of raising Armies, nor perchance for the Happiness of making them Victorious, as for the power of imposing and reforming of Fashions. And I think it a less improvable Prerogative, to be able to coin any Metal into money, or call it in at pleasure, than by the stamp of their Authority to introduce good Customs, and make them current.  Genor. 
But, do not Princes enough, when they take care to make good Laws, and see them well executed.  Lind. 
I will not dispute, whether by That, they do all they ought, but sure I am, they do not all they may: For humane Laws being made for the civil Peace of humane Societies, they are wont to be framed not for the making Men virtuous, but the restraining them from being mischievous; they consist far more of Prohibitions than Commands, and even their Prohibitions reach but to a little part of what is ill; the Business of Laws being to provide, not against all Evils, but those grosser ones, that are prejudicial to civil Societies: So that there are a thousand Rules of Reason, or Christianity, which States have not thought fit to turn into Laws. For Pride, Envy, Covetousness, Gluttony, Intemperance, Effeminateness, Oaths, Idleness, and I know not how many other Sins, contrary to the Laws of Nature, and of Christ, are so little provided against by humane Sanctions, that one may be a bad Christian, and a bad Man, without being a bad Citizen; There being nothing more easy, nor I fear more usual, than for Multitudes to pass uncited before Man's Tribunal, to receive their Condemnation at God's. But though a Prince can scarce, as a Legislator, prevent, or suppress such Sins, yet, as a Pattern, he may do much towards it: For by his Example, his Opinions, his Encouragements, and his Frowns, he may reform an hundred particular things, which the Laws do not (and perhaps cannot) reach. His declared Esteem of such and such Practices, joined with his particular Actions suited to it, and his professed dislike of those Sinful or Dishonourable courses, he finds the Rifest, backed with a steady and resolute discountenance of those that do not decline them, will, in a short time, bring those that are about him, to conform their Actions and Behaviour to what Men are satisfied, he desires, or likes. And those whom their nearness to Him, or their Employments, make the conspicuous and exemplary Persons, being thus modelled, their Relations and Dependants will quickly be so too, and then that which is in request at Court, being upon that very account looked upon as the Fashion, it will by degrees be imitated by all those on whom the Court has Influence; since, as we just now saw in the Instance of Eusebius' gaudy Gentleman, Men will be ashamed to be unlike those, whose Customs and Deportments pass for the Standards, by which those of other Men are to be measured.   

REFLECTION VI.  
Upon hearing of a Lute first tuned, and then excellently played on.  
THe Jarring strings made so unpleasant a noise, whilst the Instrument was tuning, that I wonder not at the Story that goes of a Grand Signior, who being invited by a Christian Ambassador to hear some of our Music, commanded the Fiddlers to be thrust out of his Seraglios, upon a misapprehension that they were playing, when they were but tuning. But this rare Artist had no sooner put an end to the short exercise he gave our Patience, than he put us to the Exercise of another Virtue: For his nimble and skilful Fingers make one of the innocentest Pleasures of the Senses to be one of the greatest, and this Charming melody (for which Orpheus or Orion themselves might envy him) does not so properly delight as ravish us, and render it difficult to moderate the Transports of our Passions, but impossible to restrain the praises that express our satisfaction: So that if this Musician had been discouraged by the unpleasant Sounds that were not to be avoided, whilst he was putting his Lute in Tune, from proceeding in his work, he had been very much wanting to himself, and to save a little pains, had lost a great deal of Pleasure and Applause.  
Thus, when the faculties and passions of the Mind, either through a native unruliness, or the remissness of Reason and Conscience are discomposed, he that attempts to bring them into order, must expect to meet at first but an uneasy Task, and find the beginning of a Reformation more troublesome, for the time, than the past disorders were: But he is very little his own Friend, if he suffers these short-lived difficulties to make him leave his Endeavours unprosecuted: For when once they have reduced the untuned Faculties and Affections of the Soul to that pass▪ which Reason and Religion would have them brought to, the tuned or composed Mind affords a satisfaction, whose greatness does even at present abundantly recompense the Trouble of procuring it, and which is yet but a praelude to that more ravishing Melody, wherein the Soul (already Harmonious within itself) shall hereafter bear a part, where the Harps of the Saints accompany the glad Voices that sing the Song of the Lamb, and the Hallelujahs of the rest of the Celestial Quire.   

REFLECTION VII.  
Upon being presented with a rare Nosegay by a Gardener.  Lindamor, Eusebius. Lind. 
HEre is indeed a Present, for which I must still think myself this fellow's Debtor, though he thinks I have over-paid him. 'Tis pity these Rarities were not more suitably addressed, and worn by some of Nature's other Masterpieces, with whom they might exchange a graceful Lustre, and have the Ornament they confer reflected back upon them. But one that had never been a Lover, would perhaps say, that that wish were more civil to the Flowers, than the Ladies, of whom there are few, which these soft polished Skins, and Orient Tinctures, would not easilier make Foils, than prove such to them: For (not to name the Rest) this Lovely fragrant Rose here, wears a Blush that needs not do so, at any Colour the Spring itself can, amongst all her Charming Rarities, show. Yes, here are Flowers above the flattery of those of Rhetoric; and besides, two or three unmingled Liveries, whose single Colours are bright, and taking enough to exclude the wish of a diversity; here is a variety of Flowers, whose Dyes are so dexterously blended, and fitly chequered, that every single Flower is a variety. I envy not Arabia's Odours, whilst that of this fresh Blusher charms my sense, and find my Nose and Eyes so ravishingly entertained here, that the Bee extracts less sweetness out of Flowers; which were they but less frail, I fear would make me more so (than yet I am.) Surely this Gardener leads a happy Life! He inherits nothing of Adam, but that Primitive profession that employed and recompensed his Innocence, and such a Gay and privileged Plot of his Eden, as seems exempted from the general Curse, and instead of the Thorns and Thistles that are the unthankful Earth's wont productions, brings him forth Lilies and Tulips, and gratefully crowns his Culture (for Toil I cannot think it) with chaplets of Flowers.  Euseb. 
I perceive, (Lindamor) that you judge of the Delightfulness of this Man's calling, only by these Lovely and Fragrant productions of it. And you see these curious Flowers in their prime, without seeing by what practices, and degrees, they have been brought from despicable seeds to this perfection and lustre. And perhaps, if you considered, that a Gardener must be digging in the violent heats of the Summer, and must be afraid of the bitter cold of the Winter, and must be watchful against surprising frosts in the Spring, and must not only prune, and water, and weed his Ground, but must, to obtain these gaudy and odoriferous Flowers, submit to deal with homely and stinking Dung; If (Lindamor) you would take notice of these and of some other Toils and Hardships that attend a Gardener's Trade, you would (I doubt not) confess, that his Employments, like his Bushes, bring him Thorns as well as Roses.  
And now give me leave (Lindamor) to tell you, that this may be applied to the condition of some studious persons, that you and I know. For when we hear a Learned or Eloquent Sermon, or read some Book of Devotion, or perhaps some Occasional Discourse handsomely written, we are apt to envy the Preacher or the Writer, for being able to say some things that instruct or please us so much. But alas, (Lindamor) though we see not these Productions of the Brain till they are finished, and consequently fitted to appear with their full Advantages abroad, yet to bring them to that pass, the Author may perhaps undergo many a trouble that we dream not of. For he that has to do with difficult or weighty Subjects cannot present us a good Book, or a Fine Discourse, with the same ease that a rich man can present us a fine pair of Gloves, or a fine Collation, which may be had at an hour's warning from the next Milliners or Confectioners. For to be able to write one good Book on some Subjects, a man must have been at the trouble to read an hundred: To grow capable to give a better rendering of a Greek Text, he must perchance have perused Suidas, Stephanus, Hesychius, and I know not how many Lexicographers and Scholiasts: To be qualified to make a Translation of an Hebrew Word or Phrase, that shall illustrate a dark Text, or clear a Difficulty, or more fitly agree with his notion, or accommodation of a place in Scripture, a man must have not only like a Schoolboy learned an Hebrew Grammar, and turned over Buxtorf's Schindler's, and other Dictionaries, but (which is worse) he must in many cases hazard his eyes and his patience in conversing with such Jewish Writings, not only as Elias his Tishbi, and Kimchi's Michlol; but to gain a little Rabbinical Learning, and find out some unobvious signification of a Word or Phrase, he must devour the tedious and voluminous Rhapsodies that make up the Talmud, in many of which he can scarce learn any thing but the Art of saying nothing in a multitude of words; and in others, which are not so useless, the most he will find in I know not how many dull pages, (written with as little Wit as Truth) will perhaps be an Account of some wild Opinion, or some obsolete Custom, or some superstitious Rite of a generation of people, whose Fancies and Manners scarce any thing makes worth our enquiring after, but their having lived many Ages since. And even when a man sets himself to write those smooth Composures, where Eloquence is conspicuous, and seems to be chiefly designed, the Author seldom comes by his Contentment on as easy terms as the Readers come by theirs. For, not to mention, that sometimes Periods that in a well printed Book look very handsomely, and run very evenly, were not in the written Copy without interlining and Transcriptions. Those that are Scholars themselves can hardly write without having an ambition, or at least a care, to approve their Discourses to them that are so too. And in the judgement of such Perusers, to be able to write well, one must not only have skill in the Subject, but be well skilled in the way of writing, lest the Matter be blemished by the manner of Handling it. And although to show one's self a Master in treating of variety of Themes with a florid style, and even in those Composures that are designed chiefly to express Wit and move Affections, one may think that Nature may be well let alone to supply any she has been kind to, with all they need, yet even in these cases there are some Toils and uneasinesses that are scarce to be avoided; since a discreet man, though never so rich in Natures' gifts, will think himself obliged to study Rhetoric, that he may be sure he does not transgress the Laws of It. For though an Author's Natural parts may make his Book abound with Wit, yet without the help of Art he will scarce make it free from faults. And to be well stocked with Comparisons, which when skilfully managed make the most taking passages of fine Pieces, one must sometimes survey and range through the works of Nature and Art, which are the chief Warehouses, where variety and choice of Similitudes is to be had, and to obtain those pleasing Ornaments there is oftentimes required no less pains than to devise useful Notions. As one must search the Ditches amongst Briars and Weeds, not only to find Medicinable Herbs, but to gather Prim-roses and Violets. So that (Lindamor) to conclude, if we consider the trouble that applauded Composures do oftentimes cost their Authors, we should be sensible we owe more than most men think we do to those to whom we owe good Books. But then unless they find some Recompense for their Labours, in the satisfaction of promoting piety, or in the well-natured Pleasure they feel themselves in pleasing others, I should scarce doubt but that some of the Writers, we think so happy, may rather deserve our Esteem than our Envy.   

REFLECTION VIII.  
Upon a Child that cried for the Stars.  
I Remember P. S. did once, upon just the like Theme, discourse to the following purpose.  
Amongst those numerous Eyes, that these fair Lights attract in so clear a night as this, there are not perhaps any that are more delighted with them, than this Child's seem to be. And those Persians that adored the rising Sun, could not be more charmed with that glorious Object, than this Child is with these twinkling Lights, that need his absence to become so much as visible. But his is a pleasure, that is not more great than unquiet, for it makes him querulous, and unruly, and because he cannot by his struggling, and reaching forth his little hands, get possession of these shining Spangles, 

Thus in a Starry night fond Children cry  
For the rich Spangles that adorn the sky.  Mr W.  that look so finely, their fires produce water in his eyes, and cries in his mouth, that are very little of kin to the Music the Platonists fancied in the Spheres he looks at. Whereas, though my inclinations for Astronomy make me so diligent a Gazer on the Stars, that in spite of my great Obnoxiousness to the inclemency of the nocturnal air, I gladly spend the coldest hours of the night in contemplating them; I can yet look upon these bright Ornaments of Heaven itself, with a mind as calm and serene, as those very nights that are fittest to observe them in.  
I know divers men for whom Nature seems to have cut out too much work, in giving them, in an unconfinedly amorous Disposition of mind, strong Appetites for almost all the fair Objects that present themselves to their sight: These amorous Persons may be, I grant, very much delighted when they first gaze upon a Corstellation of fair Ladies, but the Heart commonly pays dear for the Pleasure of the Eye, and the eager desires that Beauty creates, are in such men excited too often not to be frequently disappointed, and are wont to be accompanied with so many jealousies, and fears, and repulses, and difficulties, and dangers, and remorses, and despairs, that the unhappy Lovers (if those that love more than one can merit that Title) do rather languish than live, if you will believe either their own querulous words, or their pale and melancholy looks, which would make one think they were just entering into the Grave, or bade been newly digged out of it. Whereas a person that has his Affections, and Senses, at that command, which Reason and Religion require, and confer, can look upon the same Objects with pleased but not with dazzled Eyes: He considers these bright and curious Productions, as fair animated Statues of Nature's framing, and contenting himself to admire the workmanship, adores only the Divine Artificer, whose infinite amiableness is but faintly shadowed forth even by such lovely Creatures. And therefore what has been said of Mistresses, may be more justly applicable to all the other Objects of Men's too eager Passions. To be short, looking upon these curiousest Productions of Nature, with a Philosopher's and a Christian's Eyes, he can cast them on those bright Objects with pleasure, and yet withdraw them without trouble, and allowing Beauty to contribute to his Delight, without being able to create him any Disquiet; though it afford him a less transporting Pleasure than it sometimes does the Amorist, yet, all things considered, it may afford him a greater Pleasure, by being more innocent, more untroubled, and more lasting; And there may be such a Difference betwixt the Contentment of this calm admirer of Beauty, and that of a greedy and unconfined Prostituter of his Heart to it, as there is betwixt the unquiet Pleasure that the sight of the Stars gives to this Child, and the rational Contentment it may afford to an Astronomer.   

REFLECTION IX.  
Upon my Lady D. R. Her fine Closet. 
A. D. 1651.   Lindamor, Eusebius. Lind. 
IS not this Closet strangely fine, Eusebius? Here is such a variety of pretty and taking Objects, that they do as well distract the Eye as delight it; the abundance, the choice, and the Order, do as well disclose the fair Posssessors skill, as Her magnificence, and show at once, that she both has plenty, and deserves it, by knowing so well how to make use of it. Those things that are here solitary, or single, will scarce be elsewhere matched, and all the rest are so pretty, and so excellent in their several Kind's, that the number of fine things that make up this curious Collection, cannot hinder any of them from being a Rarity. And in a word, the Embellishments, that adorn and ennoble this delightful place, are such, that I believe the Possessor of them, as welcome as she is unto the best Companies, scarce ever looks upon finer things, than she can see in her Closet, unless when she looks into her Glass. But, methinks, Eusebius, you hear and view all this with a silent seriousness, which begins to make me suspect, that what I thought might be an Effect of your Wonder, may be so of your Dislike.  Euseb. 
The Collection, Lindamor, is, I confess, very curious in its Kind, and such, as if the Mistress of it were less handsome than she is, might give her as well Cause to be jealous of these fine things, as to be proud of them, since a Beauty, that were but ordinary, could not divert a Spectator's Eye from Objects, whereof many are not so. But, Lindamor, I must freely tell you, that I like both the Lady, and the Closet, much better than the Custom; such sights as these are introducing among Ladies of furnishing such Kind of Closets: I know that Youth may in certain cases, excuse some of the Impertinencies 'tis wont to occasion; And it is not strange to me, that Persons of the fairer Sex, should like, in all things about them, that handsomeness for which they find themselves to be the most liked; Nor would I forbid, even such of them, as are not of a very high Quality, to have a retiring place so neatly adorned, as may invite them to be alone, and withdraw to it, to read, or meditate, provided these Ornaments be not so costly, as to rob Charity, or so gaudy, as to distract the Devotion they should but accommodate. And in case Circumstances should so conspire, as that Youth and Quality should be attended by such a plentiful Fortune, as that after all, that either Justice, Prudence, or Decency can challenge, there remains yet enough, both to relieve the Poor, and purchase Rarities themselves: I will not be so severe, as to condemn Persons so circumstanced, nor fall out with those that are able to reconcile Sumptuousness and Charity. But the number of such Ladies, especially so soon after a long civil War, must needs be but small, and I fear much inferior to that of those, who will consider more what they see done before their Eyes, than they will the disparity of Circumstances betwixt their own Condition, and that of those they Emulate: And the greater appearance of Ingeniousness, as well as Innocence, there is in the practice I am disapproving, the more dangerous it is, and the more fit to be examined and decried. For as the old Serpent has variety of Wiles, so he fits them to the various tempers of the Persons he assays to work upon; and when he meets with Ladies virtuously disposed, since he cannot quite eradicate their inclinations to the best part of Religion, Charity, he will at least blast and render them fruitless; and he justly thinks, he has reached no small part of his end, if though he cannot seduce them to do ill, he can at least hinder them from doing good. And this he has of late attempted but too prosperously, by persuading us to take those for the standard and examples of our Expenses, that making none of the score of Piety, have the more left for their Vanities and their Appetites, which they gratify at such high rates, that those that think themselves bound to imitate them in those Excesses, that are misnamed Gallantry, shall have as little ability, as the other have will, to apply any considerable part of their Estates to those Uses, which chiefly God granted them those Estates for; and by that time, the Lady herself, and the House, and the Closet, are furnished with all the Ornaments that Vanity and Emulation call for, there is nothing left for Charity to dispose of, nay, perhaps not for Justice; the Creditor being oftentimes turned back empty as well as the Beggar, if not also made a Beggar by ruinous delays. And greater fortunes, than most Ladies have, may be exhausted, by gratifying such an ambition, as that of a Closet, to whose Costliness nothing can put limits, till Discretion do: Custom itself having not yet regulated a piece of Vanity, which, as imposing as Custom is wont to be, it has not yet dared to enjoin.  Lind. 
Methinks, Eusebius, you are somewhat forward to accuse those fair Creatures, that though they should want Innocence, would scarce want Advocates; and you are to good a Casuist to ignore, that they are wont to allege, that the Bravery you are so severe to, is no where expressly prohibited in the Scripture, and this unforbiddenness they think sufficient to evince, that the Sumptuousness you so condemn, is not absolutely, and in its own nature, Sinful.  Euseb. 
I can readily believe, that Lindamor has Wit and Amorousness enough to make him find it more easy to defend fair Ladies, than to defend himself against them: And I know, 'tis said, that these sumptuous Closets, and other Vanities, are not simply unlawful in their own Nature; but I know too, that divers things, not in their own Nature unlawful, may be made so by circumstances, and if so, than I fear, That that can be no other than ill, which makes a Man needlessy disable himself to do good. The Apostle, that discountenanced Woman's wearing of Gold, or precious things upon their Bodies, would sure have opposed their having more sumptuous Ornaments upon their Walls: These cannot pray for us, but the poor and distressed, they keep us from relieving, may either successfully pray to God for us, or cry to him against us. The Scripture that represents Dives in Hell, without saying that he oppressed or defrauded any, gives no other account of his Doom, than that living at a high rate, and going richly dressed, he neglected to relieve the starving poor. A few such Closets as this Ladies, might be easily enlarged, and contrived into an Hospital: A small part of these Superfluities would relieve the necessities of many Families, and a liberal Heart might purchase Heaven at an easier rate, than the furniture of this Closet cost the Owner of it. Nor is this practice so unallied to a fault, as to escape a punishment even in this World; these Courtiers of Applause being oftentimes reduced to live in want, even in the midst of a plentiful Fortune; these costly trifles so engrossing all that they can spare, that they must sometimes deny themselves things convenient, and perhaps almost necessary, to flaunt it out with those that are neither the one nor the other, and being frequently enough fain to immolate their own inclinations and desires, though perchance strong and innocent, to their Vanity. And those that have once found the happiness there is in making others happy, will think their Treasure better bestowed in feeding hungry Mouths, than idle Eyes: The costly Practice I am yet censuring, does not only offend Charity, but starve it, by substracting from it that which should feed it, and enable it to act like itself. And for my part, I think, he that devises, and by his Example brings Credit to, a new Expensive way of Vanity, does really destroy more Poor, than if he usurped an Alms-house, or ruined an Hospital. And by the ill Precedent he leaves, he takes the way to be uncharitable, even after Death, and so do harm, when Misers and Usurers themselves are wont (by their Legacies) to do some good. To conclude, 'tis no very Christian practice to disobey the Dictates of Piety, without having so much to plead for so doing, as the pretence of following the Dictates of Custom: And 'tis a great deal better to be without a gay Closet, than to be without Charity, which loveliest of Christian virtues, she must sure very much want, that will needlessly begin an new Example to give a bad one.   

REFLECTION X.  
Upon his seeing a Lark stoop to, and caught with, Day-nets.  Eusebius, Lindamor. Euseb. 
POor Bird! thou wert just now so high upon the Wing, that the tired Gazers feared thou hadst lost thyself in Heaven, and in thy fatal stooping seem'st to have brought us thence a Message, that so relishes of that place, that I should be troubled to see thee so rudely entertained, if that Circumstance were not necessary to the Instructions of thy Message; some Birds, you know, Lindamor, we usually beguile with Chaff, and others are generally drawn in by appropriated Baits, and by the Mouth, not the Eye. But the aspiring Lark seems composed of more sprightly, and refined Materials, she is ever a Natural, though no Native, Persian, and the Sun makes not a cloudless Visit to our Horizon, which that grateful Creature gives not a welcome to, both by Notes, which, could he hear them, he would think worthy of him, and by a flight as aspiring as if she meant he should hear them; and, in a word, so conspicuous is this Creatures fondness of Light, that Fowlers have devised a way to catch her by it, and pervert it to her Ruin: For placing broken Looking-glasses upon a movable Frame betwixt their Nets, the unwary Bird, while she is gazing upon that glittering Light the Glass reflects, and sporting herself in those Beams, which derive a new Glory from their very being broken, heedlessly gives into the Reach of the surprising Nets, which suddenly cover her, and which the Light itself kept her from seeing. The Devil is like this Fowler, Lindamor, and you, or I, had perhaps resembled the unhappy Lark, if sometimes Providence did not both graciously, and seasonably, interpose, and even when we were come near enough to have been covered by the Nets, rescued us from them; for it has ever been that old Serpent's Policy, and practice, to take the exactest measure of our Inclinations, that he may skilfully suit his Temptations to them; well knowing, that that Dexterity gains him a Devil within us, that conspires with him without us, to make us Instances of that Truth which represents Things divided against themselves as ruinous. If therefore, the Tempter find by Experience, that you are indisposed to be wrought upon by common Temptations, to forget the Practice of Religion, that you have unconcernedness enough not to be much distracted with the empty and trifling Chaff, Youth is wont to be caught with, (which perhaps seldom employ any of your Thoughts so much as those of Scorn, and Pity) that the very Gain and solider Goods of this World (for which many thought wise Men lose those of the next) cannot make you so greedy, nor so fond of them, as he desires. If, I say, the Devil have sufficiently observed how uneasy it were to entice you with common Baits, he will alter his Method straight, and attempt to catch you with Light. He knows as well as I do, that you have a Curiosity, or rather a Greediness of Knowledge, that is impatient of being confined by any other Limits than those of Knowledge itself; and accordingly, seldom, or perhaps never disturbing or frightning you, he will let you freely sport yourself about the glittering Intellectual Glass, Men call Philosophy, and suffer you not only to gaze upon all its pieces, and survey a pretty Number, but peradventure, pry into more than one; and among so numerous, and delighting Objects, I fear, that if you will frankly own what my own Gild makes me suspect you of, you must confess, That he had made you so share your Time, that you should scarce have left yourself any for Heavenly Themes, and the Meditation of Death, (which consequently might have then surprised you, had it invaded you) if Providence had not mercifully snatched you out from between the Nets you were allured to, before you were quite involved in them; and by Sickness, or else, by Means (in other cases) so unlikely, as outward Distractions, called your Thoughts home by driving them away from those enchanting Studies, whose Light might much likelier have betrayed you into the Net, than have shown it you.  Lind. 
Though I am not surprised to hear Eusebius, yet I am glad to hear a Scholar talk at this rate, and believe with you, that many a one that was neither Crow, nor Woodcock, has perished in this Snare; and we have known but too many great Scholars, so entirely taken up with writing, and reading of Books, with learning this Science, and with teaching that, that by setting themselves such Tasks, as required and employed the whole Man, Death has undiscernedly stolen upon them, and unawares intruded into their Studies, where their restless Ambition to enrich the Mind never left them the leisure to prepare it, to leave the Body, but either made them surprised Instances of that sad (but true) Observation of Seneca, Plerosque in ipso Vitae apparatu Vita destituit, or else made their Condition like that of Archimedes, who was so busy in tracing his Circles, that he took no notice of that victorious Enemy that came to dispatch him.  Euseb. 
I allow, that 'tis the Innocence, as well as Pleasure of Knowledge, that deceives those Learned Men; but they, as well as others, must remember, that even the wholsomest Meats may be surfeited on, and there is nothing more unhealthy, than to feed very well, and do but very little Exercise. And I take it to be as true of the Intellectual, as the Material World, that it profits not a Man if he gain the whole World, and lose his own Soul. Whatsoever therefore Philosophers do tell us, of a wise Man, that he is no where banished, because he is a Citizen of the World; I must think a Christian every where in Exile, because he is a Citizen of the Heavenly Jerusalem, and but a Stranger and a Sojourner here. It was not absolutely in the capacity of the Father of Lies, that the Devil boasted, that the Earth was his Dominion; for, as our Saviour himself styled him, The Prince of this World, I find, that he has all things here so much at his Devotion, that there is no place that he cannot lay an Ambush in, since he can pervert even Light itself, to hide his Snares. Let us, therefore, hereafter endeavour still to stand upon our Guard, as remembering ourselves to be in an Enemy's Country, where Distrust is the only Mother of safety; and since Providence has so graciously presented us a Lesson, our Books would not have taught us, against such a fondness of them, as is injurious to Piety, and dangerous to the Soul; Let us justify, better than this silly Lark has done, that saying of Solomon, Surely in vain the Net is spread in the sight of any Bird. Let not Philosophy any more take up our Life so, as not to leave us leisure to prepare for Death, and study a Science which shall most benefit us in another World, and which alone will do so there: No, we may visit Athens, but we should dwell at Jerusalem; we may take some turns on Parnassus, but should more frequent Mount Calvary, and must never so busy ourselves about those many things, as to forget that Unum Necessarium, that good part which shall not be taken away from us.    

OCCASIONAL REFLECTIONS.  
The Last SECTION.  

REFLECTION I.  
Seeing a Child picking the Plums out of a piece of Cake his Mother had given him for his Breakfast.  Eusebius. Lindamor. Euseb. 
THis Child is so much one in his humour, that despising mere Bread, though never so nourishing and wholesome, his Mother is fain to disguise the Materials of it into Cake, out of a belief that the toothsome, would make the nutritive part go smoothly down. But this liquorish Chit, I see, defeats her plot, and knows already how to nibble off the bait from the hook, and casting by the Meat, make his whole Meal of what was meant only for Sauce, to give a Relish to what he rejects for it. This puts me in mind of the unwelcome fate those Papers of mine, that treat of Devotion, have met with: For when I first was so unacquainted with the world, as to expect that Piety and Virtue were able, by their native charms, so much to endear my dress, as to win themselves adorers in a plain, or even a severe one; I ventured some of them abroad, though not in Print, yet among my Acquaintance, in a careless Matron-like habit, in which I soon found they almost frighted most of those I had designed them to work the quite contrary effects on. But when my Acquaintedness with the Genius of the Age had sadly taught me, that I was to alter my Method, that the Eloquence of Virtue's Sermons was that which must attract an Auditory, and engage Attention to them; and that those orders of hers, in which she employed not Rhetoric for her Secretary, could not be so much as listened to, much less obeyed, I endeavoured to clothe Virtue, though not in a gaudy, in a Fashionable Habit, and divesting her not only of her Sackcloth, but her Blacks, where I saw she appeared in them with Disadvantage, I endeavoured to give her as much of the modern Ornaments of a fine Lady, as I could without danger of being accused to have dressed her like a Courtesan. This Attempt having not proved so unsuccessful, but that many were pleased to assure me, I had not been unlucky in it, I spent some time in the selfdenying Exercise of minding Words, and improving a Style, I hoped to be able to improve to Virtue's service, and subduing my Inclinations to be fit to Teach, as I had done to Learn, her Precepts; I some times, for her sake, tried my Pen in a smother, and more florid style, than that which the nature of the Studies I was most addicted to, made the most familiar to me, flattering myself with a Belief, that since my Writings had usually the good fortune not to be ill approved, I might so happily mingle and interweave Instructions with Delight, as to necessitate my Readers to swallow both together, or at least bribe them by the latter to entertain the former.  Lind. 
You have better luck, as well as better skill, than many others, if you find it not often to far with the Fishers of Men as it did with those other Fishers, that first were honoured with that glorious Title, when they complained to our Saviour, that we have toiled all the night, 
Luke 5. 5.  and have taken nothing. For I see that men are grown witty enough to elude what they cannot despise, and resemble the deaf Adder that stops her spiritual ears from harkening to the voice of Charmers, be the Charmer never so cunning. And the best Reception that the moving'st Eloquence, that pleads for Piety, can obtain of them, is but such as may serve to make that applicable to the Preacher, which God once said to a Prophet, Lo thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well upon an Instrument; For they hear thy words, but they do them not. But the best is, that you serve a Master, that is as inclinable to reward, as able to discern, Intentions, and does not make his Estimates by Events, but judges of our Performances, not by the Effects they produce, but the Affections they flowed from, and the Ends they aimed at.  Euseb. 
The Disciple is not above his Master, nor the Servant above his Lord. And therefore, Lindamor, as I dare not repine at the unsuccessfulness of my Endeavours, so I dare think, that whilst it proceeds but from the Obstinacy of others, 'tis not likely to be imputed to me by Him that complained plain ' Himself, That all the day long he had stretched forth his hands to an unpersuadable and gainsaying people. Otherwise, I confess, I should not have much cause to be satisfied with the Return that all my Endeavours have hitherto brought me home. For I see that men can read a Book of Devotion as unconcernedly as they do a Romance or a Play, in both of them culling out only what they call Wit, and making no better use of it than either to exercise or improve their own. They hear the most pathetic Sermons, not as Christians but Orators, and if in such Discourses they have been so just as to praise the Rhetoric, they think they may well be excused if they overlook the Divinity: In short, nothing but what gratifies their Fancy can leave any Impressions on their Memory, and that itself, if it tend to reform them, makes none on their Affections. And some whose happier Pens allow them to do it far more justly than I can, do complain, That if a devout Book have not good store of witty passages, they will not mind it at all, and if it have, they will mind nothing else.  
So that, Lindamor, I should sometimes be discouraged from prosecuting Endeavours, which, though they now and then succeed, are ofttimes so unprosperous, if I did not think, with you, that they who labour to win Souls to God, are set on work by him, that having no need of our Performances, seeks in our services but the opportunities of exercising his own Goodness.   

REFLECTION II.  
Upon the sight of Sweetmeats, very artificially counterfeited in Wax.  
THE shape and colours of the best Sweetmeats of these kinds, are here so luckily represented by a skilful Hand, that Art seems to have designed rather to rival Nature, than barely to imitate Her, and a Lover of Junkets that approaches not too near to these, must have much quickness of sight, or but little of appetite, if such inviting Objects do not tempt him both to mistake and to desire them. But, though at this distance these alluring Sweetmeats appear very pleasing; yet if one should be so unadvised as to endeavour to eat them, instead of enjoying them more fully by the taste than he did by the sight, he would both spoil and disfigure them, and perhaps be so near choking himself, that he would more earnestly wish them out of his mouth, than ever he wished them in it.  
There are some pleasures and conditions too in the world, which make so fine a show at a distance, that in those that gaze at them aloof off, they frequently beget envy at them, and wishes for them; and yet he that calmly beholds them takes the best way of enjoying them: since that which whilst 'tis but aimed at, is expected to be very satisfactory upon a nearer and fuller fruition, would be so far from proving so, and would so little be as sweet to the palate as specious to the eye, that it would not only cease to afford them any delight, but would make them wish they had let those deluding Sweets alone, and would make attainments more uneasy and troublesome than even desire was.   

REFLECTION III.  
Upon the eating of Oysters.  Eugenius, Lindamor. Eug. 
WHilst every body else is commending these Oysters, either with his Tongue or with his Teeth, so that one of the Company sticks not to say, that they are as much worth as if they contained each of them a Pearl, you only seem as unconcerned a Spectator, as if you thought their proper use, like that of Flowers, were, rather to be looked on than to be eaten.  Lind. 
I confess, Eugenius, that I found myself more inclinable to reflect on what you are doing, than to keep you company in it, and whilst I saw such persons so gustfully swallow these extolled Fishes, the sight lead me to take more notice than perhaps you have done of the strange power of Education and Custom.  Eug. 
And what, I pray you, has Custom to do with Oysters?  Lind. 
You will soon know that, if I tell you, that I was considering, on this occasion, how forward we are to think other Nations absurd or barbarous for such practices, that either the same, or little better, may be found unscrupled at among ourselves; and I acknowledge it to be one of the chief advantages I account myself to have obtained by my Travels, that as I do not easily admire, so I am not forward to deride, the Practice of any People for being New, and am not apt to think, their Customs must be therefore worse than ours, because they widely differ from them.  
I could give you store of Instances to justify this impartiality, but because the circumstances of eating and drinking are those which make men, with the greatest confidence, term other Nations Brutish and Barbarous, I will confine may self to some Examples of that nature.  
We impute it for a barbarous custom to many Nations of the Indians, that like Beasts they eat raw Flesh. And pray how much is that worse than our eating raw Fish, as we do in eating these Oysters? Nor is this a practice of the rude Vulgar only, but of the politest and nicest persons among us, such as Physicians, Divines, and even Ladies. And our way of eating seems much more barbarous than theirs, since they are wont to kill before they eat, but we scruple not to devour Oysters alive, and kill them not with our Hands or Teeth, but with our Stomaches, where (for aught we know) they begin to be digested before they make an end of dying. Nay sometimes when we dip them in Vinegar, we may, for sauce to one bit, devour alive a school of little Animals, which, whether they be Fishes or Worms, I am not so sure, as I am, that I have, by the help of convenient Glasses, seen great numbers of them swimming up and down in less than a Saucer full of Vinegar.  
We detest and despise some other Nations, for feeding upon Caterpillars, Grass-hoppers, and other Infects; and others, for feeding upon Carrion, and stinking food.  
And do not many of us do as bad, when we not only eat, but extol, rotten Chief, whose Livid Colour sufficiently betrays its Putrefaction, and whose odious smell offends most men's Noses, and turns some men's Stomaches? Nay, when this Cheese is grown to that high degree of rottenness that our critical palates like it best in, we then devour whole hundreds of Mites, which are really crawling Infects, bred out of Putrefaction, and these too are so numerous and little, that our greediness makes us swallow many of them alive.  
Among the Savagest Barbarians we count the Cannabals, and as for those among them that kill men to eat them, their inhuman cruelty cannot be too much detested; but to count them so barbarous merely upon the score of feeding on man's flesh and blood, is to forget that woman's milk, by which alone we feed our sucking Children, is, according to the received Opinion, but blanched Blood; and that Mummy is one of the usual Medicines commended and given by our Physicians for falls and bruises, and in other cases too. And if we plead that we use not Mummy for food, but Physic, the Indians may easily answer, that by our way of using man's flesh, we do oftentimes but protract sickness and pain, whereas they by theirs maintain their health and vigour. And there is no reason why it should be allowable to eat Broth, for instance, in a Consumption, and be condemnable to feed upon it to maintain health.  
But lastly, as the highest degree of Brutishness, our Travellers mention the practice of the Soldanians at the Cape of Good hope, who not only eat raw meat, but, if they be hungry, eat the guts and all of their Cattle, with the Dung in them. I will not answer, that I know several among us, (and perhaps some fair Ladies too) that to prevent the Scurvy and the Gout, drink their own or Boy's Urine: nor that women themselves do oftentimes take Parmacitty inwardly, though the Latin name (Sperma Ceti) sufficiently declare what excretion of a Whale it is (though perhaps mistakenly) believed to be: nor yet that under the name of Album Graecum, Dog's dung is commonly given to Patients of all sorts and qualities against sore Throats: nor will I mention, that in Holland 'tis usual, as I have seen my self, to mingle Sheep's dung with their Cheeses, only to give them a colour and a relish: But I will rather demand, how much less we do ourselves, than what we abominate in those Savages, when we devour Oysters whole, guts, excrements, and all; nay, when not for Physic, but only for Delicacies, our Courtiers and Ladies themselves are wont to make sauce for the bodies of Lobsters of that green stuff, which is indeed their Dung: And to these I could add other Examples, if I were not afraid to divert you too long from so much pleasure as the Company seems to take in eating raw Fish.  Eug. 
You put me in mind of a fancy of your Friend Mr. boil, who was saying, that he had thoughts of making a short Romantic story, where the Scene should be laid in some Island of the Southern Ocean, governed by some such rational Laws and Customs as those of Utopia or the New Atlantis, and in this Country he would introduce an Observing Native, that upon his return home from his Travels made in Europe, should give an account of our Countries and manners, under feigned Names, and frequently intimate in his Relations, (or in his Answers to Questions that should be made him) the reasons of his wondering to find our Customs so extravagant and differing from those of his Country. For your Friend imagined, that by such a way of proposing many of our practices, we should ourselves be brought unawares to condemn, or perhaps laugh at them, and should at least cease to wonder to find other Nations think them as extravagant, as we think the manners of the Dutch and Spaniards, as they are represented in our Traveller's Books.  Lind. 
I dislike not the project, and wish it were prosecuted by some Body, that being impartial were more a friend to Fables. For when I consider, that the name of Barbarian was given by the two Noblest People's of the Earth, the Greeks and Romans, not only to all the rest of the World, but to one another, though both those Nations were highly civilised, and the courtly Persians, and other voluptuous asiatics, were perhaps no less so than they; I doubt that most Nations in stileing one another's Manners extravagant and absurd, are guided more by Education and Partiality than Reason, and that we laugh at many Customs of Strangers only because we never were bred to them, and prize many of our own only because we never considered them. And we may well believe that Custom has much a larger Empire than men seem to be aware of, since whole Nations are wholly swayed by it, that do not reckon themselves among its Subjects, nor so much as dream that they are so.   

REFLECTION IU.  
Upon a Lantern and Candle carried by, on a windy night.  
AS there are few Controversies more important, so there are not many, that have been more curiously and warmly disputed, than the Question, Whether a public or a private life be preferable? But perhaps this may be much of the nature of the other Question, Whether a married life or a single aught rather to be chosen? that being best determinable by the Circumstances of particular cases. For though indefinitely speaking, one of the two may have advantages above the other, yet they are not so great, but that special Circumstances may make either of them the more eligible to particular persons. They that find themselves furnished with Abilities to serve their Generation in a public capacity, and Virtue great enough to resist the Temptations, to which such a condition is usually exposed, may not only be allowed to embrace such an Employment, but obliged to seek it. But he whose parts are too mean to qualify him to govern others, and perhaps to enable him to govern himself, or manage his own private Concerns, or whose Graces are so weak, that 'tis less to his Virtues or to his ability of resisting, than to his care of shunning the occasions of sin, that he owes his escaping the Gild of it, had better deny himself some opportunities of doing Good, than expose himself to probable Temptations. For there is such a kind of difference betwixt Virtue shaded by a private, and shining forth in a public life, as there is betwixt a Candle carried aloft in the open air, and enclosed in a Lantern; in the former place it gives more light, but in the latter 'tis in less danger to be blown out.   

REFLECTION V.  
Upon the first Audience of the Russian Extraordinary Ambassador, at which he made his Emperor's Presents.  
I See the general Expectation that there will be here this night a Magnificent Appearance, has produced one. And as it often happens in public Shows, that the chief part of them is made by those that come to see them: so here, besides them whose Duty obliges them to attend at the Solemnity, there is a greater concourse of fine people of either Sex, than any thing of this nature has for these many years occasioned. And not only many of the Ladies wear in their Ribbons little less vivid colours, than those of their faces, and are set out with Jewels almost as sparkling as their Eyes, (which yet the Courtiers think were able to warm the Russian hearts, though all the Ice and Snow of their Country guarded them) but the Men themselves are many of them as finely and as richly dressed, as if even they came as well to be seen as to see. And if the Ambassador be, what a man of his Employment should be, (and what some say he is) a Person acquainted with the Manners of Men, he cannot but know, That we, as other's Nations, value our own Fashions enough, to look upon Men disguised by the Russian dress, as little better than Antics, if not as some new kind of Northern Animals. But for all this Gazing throng of Gaudy spectators, that were able to put an ordinary Stranger out of Countenance, to appear in a Habit differing from theirs; the Ambassador, and those that come along with him, think it not fit to decline the Russian habit or Ceremonies, for the English, but keep to the Ceremonies used in Muscovy, as strictly as if the Monarch of it that sent them hither saw them here; and are not discouraged from this Manly proceeding, by seeing themselves stared at for it by a number of Gawly spectators, that wear clothes, and use Ceremonies, so differing from theirs. And what ever those may think of the Ambassador, that are wont to estimate Men by the fashionableness of their clothes; yet the Wiser and more Intelligent do not blame him, for refusing to disparage the Fashions of his own people, by appearing ashamed of them; but, do rather think it prudent in him, to prefer the pleasing of his Master, and his own Countrymen, before the gratifying of Strangers, since 'tis not here, but at home, that he expects the recompense of his Behaviour, and Embassy.  
Thus, when a Christian, who belongs to a Celestial King, and whose Citizen-ship is in Heaven, being but a Stranger upon Earth, converses among the Men of the World, though in Matters indifferent, there is ofttimes required by Prudence, as much of Compliance as is allowed by Innocence; yet, when there happens an Occasion, wherein he cannot comply with the depraved Customs of those among whom he Lives, without disobeying Him for whom he Lives, and whose Servant he is, or doing something that would derogate from the Dignity of a Person related to such a Master, he will then less consider what may be thought of him by a Multitude, than what Account he is to render to him, who has forbidden Men to follow a Multitude to do Evil. And, as he knows, That his reward would be much less than he reckons upon, if it were a thing to be received on Earth, not in Heaven: So, how strange and unfashionable soever his Conformity to the Orders of his own Sovereign may appear, he chooses rather to displease Men than God, and acts, as both seeing, and being seen by, Him that is Invisible.  

A Continuation of the Discourse.  
ANd this aught to be more easy to him, than their Singularity is to the Russians, I have been mentioning; for whereas these, if they be knowing, and impartial, refuse our Modes and Rites, not because they are worse, but only because they are other than those of their Country; he refuses to conform to the forbidden fashions of this World, not for their being different from those of the Kingdom he belongs to, but for their being bad, and condemned by Him that cannot err: Whereas, of the opposite practices, the same infallible Judge pronounces by the mouth of a Person by him inspired, that these are the good things, and the profitable unto Men. 
Titus 3. 8.  And whereas, these Strangers see nothing in this magnificent Assembly, whose Fashions they decline, fit to be despised, but see some Persons in it, to whom they pay a great respect, and who deserve it upon another account, than that of their wearing Crowns; those that are Loyal to Virtue, have cause to look upon those they refuse to be like, with a noble, and just Indignation, as Persons that have degraded themselves, and by unworthy Practices blemished, and almost forfeited, the Dignity of their Nature, and the nobler Title of Christians. And, whereas these Muscovites are morally certain, that we shall never prefer their Fashions to our own; the Christian has as great an assurance, that those, whose Practices he dissents from, will one day repent, that theirs dissented from his, and will wish they had imitated what they now seem to scorn. And however, when he shall come to the celestial City he belongs to, he will be in no danger to be derided for the sake of Piety, since those, that deride Piety, will not be admitted there. And as these Russians could not take a better way than that of not sneaking, to avoid the having their Rites and Persons undervalued; so for a Christian, not to blush at his unfashionablest Practices, seems the hopefullest way to keep them and him from being scorned, especially with those, who having themselves no Quality better than Confidence, value it most in others. And sure it were a very unlikely way to keep others from despising the Customs of the Heavenly Jerusalem, for him that belongs to it to appear ashamed of them himself. Nor have pious Persons cause to be out of Countenance, at the singularity even of a strictly virtuous Deportment, since, being (as the Scripture tells us such Men in general are) fellow Citizens with the Saints and Domestics of God, they cannot justly be blamed, if they aspire to be as like as they can here, to those, whom they desire and hope to be perfectly like hereafter. And if the Angels (as the Scripture in several places seems to intimate) are witnesses of our Actions, the smallest number of unfashionable good Men, may, upon that score, say to one another, as the Prophet did to his Servant, upon the account of the Heavenly Host that surrounded him, Fear not, for they that be with us are more than they that be with them. 
2 Kin. 6. 16▪  And the approbation of these illuminated, happy, and glorious Spirits, is sure more considerable than that of mortal, and, which is worse, of sensual Men, whether we consider their Number, or their Judgements. And however, the Day will come, when those that despise his Singularity, will envy his Happiness; one welcoming smile from Christ will make him amends for all the scornful smiles of Sinful men; And the sentence of Absolution, and Bliss, solemnly pronounced before God, Angels, and Men, will not only recompense him for the World's Disesteem, but show that he did not deserve it.    

REFLECTION VI.  
Upon the sight of Roses and Tulips growing near one another.  
'TIs so uncommon a thing to see Tulips last till Roses come to be blown, that the seeing them in this Garden grow together, as it deserves my notice, so methinks it should suggest to me some Reflection or other on it. And perhaps it may not be an improper one, to compare the difference betwixt these two kinds of Flowers, to the disparity which I have often observed, betwixt the Fates of those young Ladies, that are only very handsome, and those that have a less degree of Beauty recompensed by the Accession of Wit, Discretion, and Virtue: For Tulips, whilst they are fresh, do indeed by the Lustre, and Vividness, of their Colours, more delight the Eye than Roses; but then they do not alone quickly fade, but as soon as they have lost that freshness, and gawdiness, that solv endeared them, they degenerate into things not only undesirable, but distasteful; whereas Roses, besides the moderate Beauty they disclose to the Eye, (which is sufficient to please, though not to charm it) do not only keep their Colour longer than Tulips, but when that decays, retain a perfumed Odour, and divers useful Qualities, and Virtues, that survive the Spring, and recommend them all the Year. Thus those unadvised young Ladies, that because Nature has given them Beauty enough, despise all other Qualities, and even that regular Diet which is ordinarily requisite to make Beauty itself lasting, not only are wont to decay betimes, but as soon as they have lost that Youthful freshness, that alone endeared them, quickly pass from being Objects of Wonder, and Love, to be so of Pity, if not of Scorn; Whereas those that were as solicitous to enrich their Minds, as to adorn their Faces, may not only with a mediocrity of Beauty be very desirable whilst that lasts, but notwithstanding the recess of that, and Youth, may, by the fragrancy of their Reputation, and those Virtues and Ornaments of the Mind, that Time does but improve, be always sufficiently endeared to those that have merit enough to discern, and value, such Excellencies; and whose Esteem and Friendship is alone worth their being concerned for. In a word, they prove the happiest, as well as they are the wisest, Ladies, that whilst they possess the desirable Qualities that Youth is wont to give, neglect not the acquist of those that Age cannot take away.   

REFLECTION VII.  
(Taken out of the 2d Book of the 
* An unpublished Piece of the Author's.  Martyrdom of Theodora, and turned into an Occasional Meditation.)  
Upon the sight of a Branch of Coral among a great Prince's Collection of Curiosities.  
THE present and future condition of a Christian, especially of a Martyr, is not ill represented by what we take notice of in Coral; for whilst that Shrub yet lives, and remains fastened to its native earth or soil, it grows in an obscure Region of the world, and is perpetually surrounded, and overflown, by the brackish and unpleasant waters of the Sea, and oftentimes exposed to the irregular agitations of its waves. Besides, the substance of this Plant (as those that should know inform us) is but soft and tender under water, and its colour but sad and unlively: nor is it, like the Tulip or the Rose-bush, adorned with any pleasant verdure, and much less does it flourish with gaudy colours. And whilst it remains under water, the excellency of it does so little disclose itself, that men sail over it without suspecting or dreaming they have any thing of precious under their feet; and by the fishes, in whose Region, or rather Element, it grows, 'tis passed by wholly unregarded: But when this unheeded Coral comes to be torn off from its root, and plucked out of his soil, and so is killed in the capacity of a Plant, it then exchanges the dark and unquiet place it was confined to, for a more elevated and lightsome Region; and instead of sharing the fate of common Shrubs and Flowers, first to degenerate into fading colours and offensive smells, and then to perish, either by rottenness or fire, our Coral, by the violence offered to it, acquires a delightful redness, together with a solidity and a durableness, that makes it a thing so lovely and immortal, that it serves for an Ornament, for the Cabinets of the Curious; and what stupid Fishes do not at all regard, those nobler Creatures, Men, do so highly prize, that oftentimes it finds place even among the Rarities of Princes.  
Thus, a true Christian, whilst he is yet confined to the Region of the Animal Life, lives oftentimes in an obscure and low condition, and far from that prosperous state wherein the world's Favourites are wont to flourish, he is almost perpetually exposed to pressures and afflictions, and either most men consider him not at all, or those that look at his outside only are apt to despise him because it is so homely. And he is not only in such a (seemingly forlorn) condition, as made the Psalmist complain of himself, that all the waves passed over him; but (like those Plants of Coral, that, not growing so near the shore, are constantly covered with water, as well as sometimes disordered by storms) the calamities that do, as it were, over-whelm him, are never altogether removed, even in the intervals of those tempestuous Fits which increase his Distresses: But when the violence of sickness, or the fury of a Persecutor shall have taken away his life, he must be then translated into a higher and happier Region, Afflictions and Distresses will be all left behind. And when the sensual Idolisers of their Bodies shall be condemned to have those as loathsome as were their Minds, and as restless as their guilty Consciences, His Body will obtain new and glorious Qualities like that of his Redeemer, and his Soul shall find no less happy a Transfiguration, 
* 2 Cor 5. 4.  the mortal part will be swallowed up of life, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  that perfection which is but in part shall be done away. And these newly acquired Excellencies of the whole man, will never after vanish or decay. And he that lived unregarded by the stupid Inhabitants of the earth, shall be joyfully welcomed into the blessed society of Celestial Spirits, and, what is infinitely more, be graciously welcomed and dignified by the Son of God himself. Men should not therefore, by a Christians present state, take their measures of his future fate, but rather should remember that he who said of such, 
Mal. 3. 17.  They shall be mine in the day when I make up my 
* Segullah.  special treasures, is one whose Estimate of Persons and Conditions we may safely rely upon, since he is able to make any of them infallibly such as he pleases to pronounce them, and consequently we may look upon the constant Christian's differing condition, with his eyes that said, 
Joh. 3. 2.  We are now the Sons of God, and it does not (indeed) yet appear what we shall be, but we know that when he shall appear, we shall be like HIM; who would be like himself alone, did not his goodness vouchsafe to exalt those that love him, to a likeness, which makes them very unlike the gloriousest things we here admire, by incomparably transcending them.   

REFLECTION VIII.  
Upon the sight of the effects of a Burning-glass.  
IT is a fault incident to many good men, to be too much indisposed to entertain the Precepts of Virtue, as such excellent things deserve, in case those that teach them do not practise them. There are too many that do not think themselves obliged to take even the wholesomest advice from those, whom they see more careful to give it others, than to follow it themselves. And some of them are so nice, that they will scarce read a Book of Devotion, unless it come, like that St. John eat in the Apocalypse, from the hand of an Angel. But for my part, though I hope I both value and desire Religious Preachers as much as the rest of my Brethren, yet I think it would be much to the injury of Scripture and of Reason, if we should suffer the personal faults of men to keep them from doing that good, their nature fits them for. The Etymology of the Gospel importing its being welcome news, 'tis pity that any one that teaches it should not have a title to the Character David gave Ahimaaz, of whom he said, that he is a good man, and brings good tidings. But my desirousness of piety in a Preacher is more for others sake than mine. For I know not why Truth, which is an intellectual thing, should lose its nature by any moral viciousness in the Proposer. I know there is something extraordinary in the case of Noah, who awoke from his Wine and immediately prophesied, and yet the Event verified his Predictions. Our Saviour instructing his Disciples about the Scribes and Pharisees, who sat in Moses' Chair, at the same time commands them to conform to their Doctrine, when he forbids them to imitate their Example. The Wisemen did not the less find Christ at Bethlehem, though the Priests and Pharisees sent them without accompanying them thither. And the Assyrian General was cured of his Leprosy by following the Prophet's prescription conveyed him by that Gehazi, who, by his unworthy carriage in that business, transplanted (if I may so speak) that foul Disease into himself and his posterity. I will therefore consider Sermons more than Preachers: For as in a Burning-glass, though the Sunbeams do but illustrate, not heat, it in their passage, they may yet, by its assistance, kindle subjects that are more disposed to receive their action: So those very Truths and Notions of a learned Preacher, which do but enlighten him, may inflame his Hearers, and kindle in their hearts the love of God. And as if a Perfume be set on fire by the Beams projected through a Burning-glass (which they do not so much as warm in their passage) the Scent is no less odoriferous and grateful, than if it had been produced by an actually burning coal. So neither is that Devotion which is kindled by the Eloquence of an indevout Preacher, any whit the less acceptable to God for their not being themselves affected with the Zeal they beget in others. And what the Book of Kings relates of Elisha's Bones, contains a far greater Miracle in the Historical, than in the Allegorical sense, in which 'tis no such wonder to see a man raised to life by a dead Prophet.   

REFLECTION IX.  
Upon the finding a Horse-shoe in the Highway.  
THe common people of this Country have a Tradition, that 'tis a lucky thing to find a Horse-shoe. And though 'twas to make myself merry with this fond conceit of the superstitious Vulgar, I stooped to take this up; yet now I observe in it a Circumstance that may, for aught I know, somewhat justify the Tradition. For I take notice, that though Horse-shoes are by travelling worn out, yet if they had a sense of their own condition, it might afford them some consolation in it, that the same Journeys that waste them make them both useful and bright. Whereas, though the Horse-shoe I have taken up have not been consumed upon the account of travelling, it has been eaten up by rust, which wastes it as well as Attrition would have done, but does not give it the lustre it would have received from that. I meet with many, who, very unmindful that He who was justly styled the Wiseman, whose counsel it was, that what ever our hand finds to do, we should do it with all our might, etc. make it the main business of their life merely to lengthen it, that are far more solicitous to live long, than well, and would not undergo the least labour, or endure the least hardship, to do the greatest Good, but had rather lose an hundred opportunities of serving God, or obliging Men, than one Entertainment, or an hours sleep, and all this under the pretence of minding their Health, and complying with the Dictates of Self-preservation. But I have often observed too, that even these jolly People that seldom have a serious Thought, but how to avoid serious Employments, may, by making their whole Lives a Succession of Divertisements, or rather a constant Diversion from the true end of them, make their Lives indeed thereby useless, but not at all immortal. And truly, Fevers, Pleurisies, and other acute Diseases, that are home-bread, besides those numerous fatal ones that are caught by Contagion, and a multitude of Casualties, do cut off so many before they reach old Age, in comparison of those, that the Diligence, and Industry, imposed by Religion, or Curiosity, destroy, that I think so great a fear of using the Body for the interests of the Soul, and of him to whom we owe both, does very little become his Disciples, who said, That 'twas his Meat to do the Will of God that sent him, 
Joh. 4. 34.  and to accomplish his Work. The trouble of Thirsting, and Sweeting, and Undressing, would to an ingenious Man be but just recompensed by the bare pleasures of Eating, and Drinking, and Sleeping, to confine an honest and inquisitive Person from those, which he looks upon as the almost only Manly employments, the exercise of Virtue, and the pursuit of Knowledge, by telling him, that such a forbearance may protract his Life, is, to promise a thing upon a condition that destroys the end and use of it; and he will look upon it, as if you should offer him a Horse, provided he will not ride him, or a Perspective-glass, upon condition he shall not draw it out, for fear the Air should, as it sometimes does, impair the Glasses. A Heavenborn Soul would scarce think it worth while to stay here below, if its work must be, not to employ the Body, but to tend it. Those that are so unreasonably afraid to spend their Spirits, are in some regards less excusable than Misers themselves; for though both hoard up things that cannot be better enjoyed than by being parted with, the chief uses for which they were entrusted with them; yet in this, those I blame are more censurable than the Covetous themselves, since these, by their Niggardliness, can avoid spending their Money, but the others, by their Laziness, cannot avoid the Consumption of their time. I know a Man may be Prodigal of himself, as well as his Estate, and that both those Profusions are faults, and therefore fit to be declined. But if I could not shun both the Extremes, certainly, since we all must Die, and the question is not whether or no we will Live for ever, (for the most that can be hoped for, is not to be privileged from Death, but only to be longer reprieved) but whether we will rather endeavour to lead a Life, mean, and unprofitable, a few more days, or a glorious Life, for a somewhat less number of them? I should rather choose to spend my Life quickly, than uselessly; for he that lays out himself for Eternity, if he lose any Portion of his time upon that account, is the sooner put into possession of an Inexhaustible stock of it; whereas those, who, that they may Live long, meanly forgo the ends of Living, and seek, by Laziness, to protract an insignificant stay on Earth, would, should they reach their Aim, add rather to their Years than to their Life.   

REFLECTION X.  
Upon the Shop of an ugly Painter rarely well stored with Pictures, 
At the Hague.  of very handsome Ladies.  Genorio, Lindamor, Eusebius. Genor. 
HEre is a deceitful Shop of Beauty, where many that come but to wonder, meet with Love, and even when they buy, not what they like, pay their Hearts for it; the Shop being so well furnished, that Beauty seems here to have assumed all the variety of Features, and Complexions, she can be dressed in, and so exquisitely to have fitted all Gazers, with proportionate and attractive Objects, that nothing but an absolute Incapability of Love, is here able to protect them from that Passion, which, not to resent among so many inspiring Wonders, were one. If in these Faces, the Originals equal the Transcripts, if Art have not flattered Nature, and attempted more to instruct than imitate her; and if the Painter have not elected, rather to have his Pieces liked, than like, here are Apologies for Love, that can procure it, not only Pardons, but Proselytes. I must (in that case) add, that there are more Suns than one, whose Brightness, even by Reflection, can dazzle; here are Princesses more illustrious for the Blood that lightens in their Cheeks, than for that which runs in their Veins, and who, like victorious Monarches, can conquer at a distance, and captivate by Proxy.  Euseb. 
I fear, Genorio▪ that you are so transported with your Text, that you will quite forget (if ever you intended it) to make a Homily upon it: For you talk at such a rate, as if you were about to lose, to the Pictures of Ladies, the liberty, your Friend Mr. boil would be thought to have ever defended against their Originals, and fancied, that it might add to the other Resemblances you so admire betwixt them, if both of them were made Enemies to seriousness.  Lind. 
I presume, Genorio will willingly allow me, to serve him at this turn; for whether or no he meant us a Reflection, some charms or other he has met with in these Pictures, seem to have so arrested his Thoughts, as well as his Looks, that we shall not have them hastily delivered from so pleasing a Captivity; and the Knowledge I alone, of us three, have of the Drawer of these Pictures, supplies me with a Circumstance, without which, I should not, when Eusebius is by, offer at an Occasional Meditation: But upon this advantage, I shall venture to tell you, That the thing I was considering, was, that though the Limner have drawn some Pieces, as handsome as Lovers think, or wish their Mistresses, and some (as they tell me) so like, that an actual Confrontation of the Artist's works, and Nature's, would scarce distinguish them, (since the former would appear to differ from the later, but in that silence, which the laters admiration, to see themselves so perfectly represented, would impose) yet is the Painter himself so deformed a Creature, that he might draw a lovelier Face even than any here, by drawing one perfectly unlike his own. Alas, this discloses the difference there may be betwixt the being able to write fine Characters of Virtue, and the possessing of it. How ridiculous should I esteem this Limner, if with all this ugliness, he should esteem himself handsome, because his Pencil can draw Faces that are so! As absurd were it for us, to grow proud of our devout Composures, and fancy Piety ours, because our Discourses can possibly enamour others of it. The Devil sometimes does unmolestedly suffer us to write well, if he can but persuade us we need do no more, and that good Pens may dispense us from good Actions. Our Paper-warrs against Vices, are oftentimes like Alexander's, against the Neighbouring Nations, not out of Hatred, but Glory, not to Extirpate, but to Conquer them, and manifest to the World the sufficiency of our Parts, by a Victory, after which, we often treat the vanquished Enemy with greater Courtesy, than those whose Quarrel we undertook. Discourses against Vices, may be as well indicted by Vanity, as by Zeal, and meant to express Wit, not persuade Piety. And if (as it chanceth but too frequently) we grow proud of them, we do, like Witches turning Exorcists, only comply with Satan to cast out the Devil.  Euseb. 
To second your pious, Reflection Lindamor, with some thoughts suitable to my Profession, I will add, that in the case you put, it happens to us as it once did to Gideon, 
Judges 8. 24. 25. 26. etc.  who, of the spoils of God and Israel's conquered Enemies, made an Idol, which proved, in the end, his, and his houses Snare. 'Twas a most instructive Check, and divine admonition, that our Saviour gave his Apostles, when, in the account they brought him of their Embassy, they joyfully related their exercised power, of dispossessing Devils; Notwithstanding (answered Christ) in this rejoice not, that Spirits are subject to you, but rather rejoice that your names are written in Heaven. In effect, though Judas were one of the Persons, invested with this miraculous power of casting Devils out of others, yet we read that Satan afterwards entered into Judas, and that it had been good for him, that he had never been born. And though, as Solomon tells us, He that winneth Souls, is wise, yet it is he only that shall do, as well as teach, the Commandments that shall be called great in the Kingdom of Heaven. 
Mat. 5. 19  And the Judge himself informing us, that, at the world's last day, many will plead their having in his name not only prophesied or preached, but cast out Devils, and shall yet be disclaimed by him; sufficiently intimates, 
Mat. 7. 22. 23.  that 'tis as possible, as unavailable, to do many wonderful works (for Religion) and to be workers of Iniquity. The true Christian should, Lindamor, be willing to impart any useful Discoveries that God shall please to vouchsafe him; but he will ever consider the taking'st Notions he can frame of virtue, more as Engagments to it, than Arguments of it; and since there is not any thing in which Charity ought more to begin at home than in devout Instructions, he will endeavour to make himself as much Piety's Votary, as Advocate; to imitate those truly Wisemen, that as they informed those of Jerusalem, of the Star they had seen in the East, did themselves follow it, till it brought them unto Christ; to entitle himself to that of our Saviour, A good man, 
Luk. 6. 45.  out of the good treasure of his heart, brings forth good things; and (finally) to take his Celebrations of virtue from his Experience, not his Fancy; as Nurse first feed themselves, to nourish their sucking Infants, to whom they give no meat, which they have not in their own Breasts first digested into Milk, lest (like the Carpenters that toiled to build the Ark to save Noah from the Deluge, themselves perished in,) 
1 Cor. 9 27.  when he has preached to others, himself should prove a Castaway.  

A Continuation of the Discourse.  Genor. 
SUre, Gentlemen, 'tis a happy thing to be able to convert the meanest things to the noblest uses, and make whatever one pleases, subservient to Piety, by skilfully employing even slight and unpromising Occasions, to represent her, which the Advantages of a varied and surprising Dress, whereby you may procure that Virtue lovers, and yourselves friends: For her Votary's are so ingenuous and disintressed in their Amours, that they have as well as kindness for their Rivals, as their Mistress.  Lind. 
I will not deny but that there may be Persons so inflamed with heavenly Love, that their Devotion is able, like the last fire, that is to refine or destroy the World, to turn all things into Fuel for its victorious flames, and who, when they are once engaged in Meditation, can make their pious thoughts excite themselves and flame up higher, and higher, without the assistance of other Incentives, than what their own fervency procures them; as 'tis observed, that when the fire has seized upon a Town, by how small a spark soever it have been kindled, if the flame come to be very great, though the air be very calm, the fire itself will produce a wind, that, without the help of Bellows, shall strongly blow it, and make it blaze the more, and aspire towards Heaven. But, Genorio, whenever (for I answer but for myself) I shall meet with any such happy Contemplators, I shall have the Justice to be one of their Admirers, without having the vanity to pretend to be one of their number.  Euseb. 
And I, for my part, shall tell you, Genorio, that though there may be divers charitable persons, besides yourself, that by the Expressions it becomes me to use in some of my Meditations, and other composures of the like Nature, may be apt to fancy that I am myself, as devout as I endeavour to make my Readers, yet you must not imagine that my mind, like one of those Writings, has no other thoughts than Religious, or at least moral ones; For those may be the productions, not of a constant frame of mind, but of Occasional Fits of Devotion: And you may read a greater number of such Reflections in an hour than perhaps I have made in a month, not to say, in a year. And I must ingeniously confess to you, that I think it more easy to make ten good Sermons than to practise one, and to declaim against all sins than to relinquish any: There goes much less self-denial to conform to the Precepts of Cicero, than to those of Christ, and I find it so much less difficult to excite other men's passions, than to command my own, that if you will not suffer your charity too much to injure your judgement, You must look upon the devouter passages you may have met with among my Composures, as Expressions of what I aim at, rather than of what I practise.    
The End of the last Section.    

THE TABLE.  

A Discourse touching Occasional Meditations. 1  
SECT. I. 
REFLECTION I. 
UPon his manner of giving meat to his Dog. 161  II. 
Upon his Distilling Spirit of Roses in a Limbeck. 163  III. 
Upon his being in great danger wand'ring, on Mendip hills, among covered Lead-mines that he knew not of. 167  IU. 
His Horse stumbling in a very fair way. 169  V. 
Upon two very miserable Beggars, begging together by the Highway. 172  VI. 
Sitting at case in a Coach that went very fast. 175  VII. 
Upon the sight of a Windmill standing still. 176  VIII. 
Upon his paring of a rare Summer-apple. 181  IX. 
Upon his Coaches being stopped in a narrow Lane. 182  X. 
Looking through a Perspective-glass upon a Vessel we suspected to give us Chase, and to be a Pirate. 184    
The II. SECTION, Containing Occasional Reflections upon the Accidents of an Ague. 
MEDITATION I. 
UPon the first Invasion of the Disease. 187  II. 
Upon the immoderate Heat and Cold of the Aguish Fit. 192  III. 
Upon the succession of the cold and hot Fit. 194  IU. 
Upon the being let Blood. 199  V. 
Upon the taking of Physic. 202  VI. 
Upon the Syrups and other sweet things sent him by the Doctor. 206  VII. 
Upon the want of Sleep. 209  VIII. 
Upon telling the strokes of an ill-going Clock in the night. 214  IX. 
Upon comparing the Clock and his Watch. 216  X. 
Upon a Thief in a Candle. 218  XI. 
Upon the being in danger of death. 221  XII. 
Upon the same Subject. 226  XIII. 
A further Continuation. 229  XIV. 
Upon the apprehensions of a Relapse. 235  XV. 
Upon his reviewing and tacking together the several Bills filled up in the Apothecary's Shop. 237    
The III SECTION. 
REFLECTION I. 
UPon the sight of some variously-coloured Clouds. 241  II. 
Upon his making of a Fire. 243  III. 
Upon my Spaniell's carefulness not to lose me in a strange place. 245  IU. 
Upon the prodigiously wet weather, which happened the Summer that Colchester was besieged. (1648) 246  V. 
Upon his being Carved to at a Feast. 250  VI. 
Upon the sight of a Looking-glass, with a rich Frame. 251  VII. 
Upon my Spaniell's fetching me my Glove. 256  VIII. 
Upon the taking up his Horses from Grass, and giving them Oats before they were to be ridden a Journey. 258  IX. 
Upon the making of a Fire with Charcoal. 260  X. 
Looking through a Prismatical or Triangular Glass. 261    
The IV. SECTION. 
DISCOURSE I. 
UPon the being called upon to rise early on a very fair morning. 1  II. 
Upon the Mounting, Singing, and Lighting of Larks. 8  III. 
Upon the sight of a fair Milkmaid singing to her Cow. 13  IU. 
Upon Fishing with a counterfeit Fly. 27  V. 
Upon a Fish's struggling after having swallowed the Hook. 30  VI. 
Upon the sight of ones Shadow cast upon the face of a River. 33  VII. 
Upon a Fall occasioned by coming too near the River's Brink. 47  VIII. 
Upon the Good and Mischief that Rivers do. 50  IX. 
Upon the comparing of Lands, seated at differing distances from the River. 56  X. 
Upon a Fishes running away with the Bait. 64  XI. 
Upon a Danger springing from an unseasonable Contest with the Steersman. 67  XII. 
Upon Clouds rising out of the Sea, and falling down in Rain not Brackish. 80  XIII. 
Upon drawing the Boat to the Shore. 87  XIV. 
Upon Catching store of Fish at a Baited place. 92  XV. 
Upon the Magnetical Needle of a Sun-Dyal. 95  XVI. 
Upon the Quenching of Quicklime. 105  XVII. 
Upon ones Talking to an Echo. 107  XVIII. 
Upon a Giddiness occasioned by looking attentively on a rapid Stream. 118  XIX. 
Upon ones Drinking water out of the Brims of his Hat. 122  XX. 
On seeing Boys swim with Bladders. 129    
THE TRANSITION Containing A DISCOURSE Upon the Sports being interrupted by Rainy-weather. 133  
The V. SECTION. 
REFLECTION I. 
UPon the sight of N. N. making of Syrup of Violets. 139  II. 
Upon the sight of a Paper-Kite in a Windy day 145  III. 


Killing a Crow (out of a Window) in a Hog's-trough, and immediately tracing the ensuing Reflection with a Pen made of one of his Quills. 149  
Upon the same Subject. 153    IU. 
Upon a Glow-worm that he kept included in a Crystal Viol. 154  V. 
Upon a Courts being put into Mourning. 156  VI. 
Upon hearing of a Lute first tuned, and then excellently played on. 162  VII. 
Upon being presented with a rare Nosegay by a Gardener. 165  VIII. 
Upon a Child that cried for the Stars. 171  IX. 
Upon my Lady D. R. Her fine Closet. 175  X. 
Upon his seeing a Lark stoop to, and caught with, Day-nets. 182    
The Last SECTION. 
REFLECTION I. 
SEeing a Child picking the Plums out of a piece of Cake his Mother had given him for his Breakfast. 188  II. 
Upon the sight of Sweetmeats, very artificially counterfeited in Wax. 193  III. 
Upon the eating of Oysters. 194  IU. 
Upon a Lantern and Candle carried by, on a Windy night. 201  V. 


Upon the first Audience of the Russian Extraordinary Ambassador, at which he made his Emperor's Presents. 203  
A Continuation of the Discourse. 206    VI. 
Upon the sight of Roses and Tulips growing near one another. 209  VII. 
Upon the sight of a Branch of Coral among a great Prince's Collection of Curiosities. 211  VIII. 
Upon the sight of the effects of a Burning-glass. 215  IX. 
Upon the finding a Horse-shoe in the Highway. 217  X. 


Upon the Shop of an ugly Painter rarely well stored with Pictures, of very handsome Ladies. 221  
A Continuation of the Discourse. 227       
FINIS.