 does not consider himself as standing alone in the universe. The infraction of established rules may, it is possible, in some cases, be productive of mischief; yet, it is difficult to state any rule so precise and determinate, as to be alike applicable to every situation: what, in one instance, might be a vice, in another may possibly become a virtue:—a thousand imperceptible, evanescent, shadings, modify every thought, every motive, every action, of our lives—no one can estimate the sensations of, can form an exact judgment for, another.

'I have sometimes suspected, that all mankind are pursuing phantoms, however dignified by different appellations.—The healing operations of time, had I patience to wait the experiment, might, perhaps, recover my mind from its present distempered state; but, in the meanwhile, the bloom of youth is fading, and the vigour of life running to waste.—Should I, at length, awake from a delusive vision, it would be only to find myself a comfortless, solitary, shivering, wanderer, in the dreary wilderness of human society. I feel in myself the capacities for increasing the happiness, and the improvement, of a few individuals—and this circle, spreading wider and wider, would operate towards the grand end of life—general utility.'

Again I repeated to myself—'Ascetic virtues are equally barbarous as vain:—the only just morals, are those which have a tendency to increase the bulk of enjoyment. My plan tends to this. The good which I seek does not appear to me to involve injury to any one—it is of a nature, adapted to the disposition of my mind, for which every event of my life, the education both of design and accident, have fitted me. If I am now put out, I may, perhaps, do mischief:—the placid stream, forced from its channel, lays waste the meadow. I seem to stand as upon a wide plain, bounded on all sides by the horizon:—among the objects which I perceive within these limits, some are so lofty, my eyes ache to look up to them; others so low, I disdain to stoop for them. One, only, seems fitted to my powers, and to my wishes—one, alone, engages my attention! Is not its possession worthy an arduous effort: Perseverance can turn the course of rivers, and level mountains! Shall I, then, relinquish my efforts, when, perhaps, on the very verge of success?

'The mind must have an object:—should I desist from my present pursuit, after
