A CHESTERFIELD.

Of all the accounts which are left us, of the latter end of those, who are gone before into the eternal state, several are more horrible, but few so affecting as that which is given us, by his own pen, of the late lord Chesterfield. It shows us incontestably, what a poor creature man is, notwithstanding the highest polish which he is capable of receiving, without the knowledge and experience of those satisfactions which true religion yields; and what egregious fools all those persons are, who squander away their precious time, in what the world, by a strange perversion of language, call plea

sure.

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"I have enjoyed all the pleasures of this world, and consequently know their futili ty, and do not regret their loss. I appraise them at their real value, which in truth, is very low; whereas those who have not ex, perienced, always over-rate them. They only see their gay outside, and are dazzled with their glare; but I have been behind the scenes. It is a common notion, and like many common ones, a very false one, that those, who have led a life of pleasure and business, can never be easy in retirement; whereas I am persuaded that they

are the only people who can, if they have any sense and reflection.-They can look back without an evil eye upon what they from knowledge despise ; others have always a hankering after what they are not acquainted with. I look upon all that has passed, as one of those romantic dreams that opium commonly occasions, and I do by no means desire to repeat the nauseous dose, for the sake of the fugitive dream. When I say that I have no regret, I do not mean that I have no remorse; for a life either of business, or still more of pleasure, never was, and never will be, a state of innocence. But God, who knows the strength of human passions, and the weakness of human reason, will, it is to be hoped, rather mercifully pardon, than justly punish, acknowledged errors. I have been as wicked and as vain, though not so wise as Solomon but am now at last wise enough to feel and attest the truth of his reflection, that all is vanity and vexation of spirit. This truth is never sufficiently discovered or felt by mere speculation: experience in this case is necessary for conviction, though perhaps at the experience of some morality.

My health is always bad, though some times better and sometimes worse; and my deafness deprives me of the comforts

of society, which other people have in their illnesses. This you must allow, is an unfortunate latter end of life, and consequently a tiresome one; but I must own too, that it is a sort of ballance to the tumultuous and imaginary pleasures of the former part of it. I consider my present wretched old age as a just compensation for the follies, not to say, sins of my youth. At the same time I am thankful that I feel none of those torturing ills, which frequently attend the last stage of life; and I flatter myself that I shall go off quietly, and with resignation. My stay in this world cannot be long: God, who placed me here, only knows when he will order me out of it; <but whenever he does, I shall willingly obey his command. I wait for it, imploring the mercy of my Creator, and deprecating his justice. The best of us must trust to the former, and dread the latter.-I think I am not afraid of my journey's end; but will not answer for myself, when the object draws very near, and is very sure: For when one does see death near, let the best or the worst people say what they please, it is a serious consideration. The divine attribute of mercy, which gives us comfort, cannot make us forget the attribute of justice, which must blend some fears

with our hope.Life, is neither a burden nor a pleasure to me; but a certain degree of ennui necessarily attends that neutral state, which makes me very willing to part with it, when He who placed me here, thinks fit to call me away. When I reflect, however, upon the poor remainder of my life, I look upon it as a burden that must every day grow heavier, from the natural progression of physical ills, the usual companions of increasing years; and my reason tells me, that I should wish for the end of it; but instinct, often stronger than reason, and perhaps oftener in the right, makes me take all proper methods to put it off. This innate sentiment alone makes me bear life with patience: for I assure you I have no farther hopes, but, on the contrary, many fears from it. None of the primitive Anachoretes in the Theebais could be more detached from life than I am. I consider it as one who is wholly unconcerned in it; and even when I reflect upon what I have seen, what I have heard, and what I have done myself, I can hardly persuade myself that all the frivolous hurry and bustle, and pleasures of the world, had any reality, but they seem to have been the dreams of restless nights. This philosophy, however, I thank God, neither makes me sour nor

melancholy; I see the folly and absurdity of mankind, without indignation or peevishness. I wish them wiser, and consequently better than they are."

The letters of this nobleman, which he wrote to his son, contain positive evidence, that, with all his honours, learning, wit, politeness, he was a thorough bad man, with a heart full of deceit and uncleanness. Those letters have been a pest to nations. It may be questioned whether Rochester's poems ever did more harm. This nobleman was accounted, not only the most polite and well-bred man of his time, but the greatest wit.

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This is the life, these are the mortifying acknowledgments, and this is the poor sneaking end of the best bred man of the age! Not one word about Mediator! He acknowledges, indeed, his frailties; but yet in such a way as to extenuate his offences. One would suppose him to have been an old heathen philosopher, that had never heard the name of Jesus, rather than a penitent christian, whose life had abounded with a variety of vices.