olours, draws with equal appearance of
reason, a contrary conclusion.

"You may pass well through any of the paths of life. In publick
assemblies are honours and transactions of wisdom; in domestick privacy
is stillness and quiet: in the country are the beauties of nature; on
the sea is the hope of gain: in a foreign land, he that is rich is
honoured, he that is poor may keep his poverty secret: are you married?
you have a cheerful house; are you single? you are unincumbered;
children are objects of affection, to be without children is to be
without care: the time of youth is the time of vigour, and gray hairs
are made venerable by piety. It will, therefore, never be a wise man's
choice, either not to obtain existence, or to lose it; for every state
of life has its felicity."

In these epigrams are included most of the questions which have engaged
the speculations of the inquirers after happiness; and though they will
not much assist our determinations, they may, perhaps, equally promote
our quiet, by showing that no absolute determination ever can be formed.

Whether a publick station or private life be desirable, has always been
debated. We see here both the allurements and discouragements of civil
employments; on one side there is trouble, on the other honour; the
management of affairs is vexatious and difficult, but it is the only
duty in which wisdom can be conspicuously displayed: it must then still
be left to every man to choose either ease or glory; nor can any general
precept be given, since no man can be happy by the prescription of
another.

Thus, what is said of children by Posidippus, "that they are occasions
of fatigue," and by Metrodorus, "that they are objects of affection," is
equally certain; but whether they will give most pain or pleasure, must
depend on their future conduct and dispositions, on many causes over
which the parent can have little influence: there is, therefore, room
for all the caprices of imagination, and desire must be proportioned to
the hope or fear that shall happen to predominate.

Such is the uncertainty in which we are always likely to remain with
regard to questions wherein we have most interest, and which every day
affords us fresh opportunity to examine: we may examine, indeed, but we
never can decide, because our faculties are unequal to the subject; we
see a little, and form an opinion; we see more, and change it.

This inconstancy and unsteadiness, to which we must