perance, imprudence, and the neglect of
precautions, which often arises from carelessness, but much
oftener from ignorance of those precautions.

Physiological ignorance is, undoubtedly, the most abundant source
of our sufferings; every person accustomed to the sick must have
heard them deplore their ignorance of the necessary consequences
of those practises, by which their health has been destroyed: and
when men shall be deeply convinced, that the eternal laws of
nature have connected pain and decrepitude with one mode of life,
and health and vigour with another, they will avoid the former and
adhere to the latter.

It is strange, however, to observe that the generality of mankind
do not seem to bestow a single thought on the preservation of
their health, till it is too late to reap any benefit from their
conviction: so that we may say of health, as we do of time, we
take no notice of it but by its loss; and feel the value of it
when we can no longer think of it but with retrospect and regret.

When we take a view of the human frame, and see how admirably each
part is contrived for the performance of its different functions,
and even for repairing its own injuries, we might at first sight
imagine, that such a structure, unless destroyed by external
force, should continue for ever in vigour, and in health: and it
is by mournful experience alone that we are convinced of the
contrary. The strongest constitution, which never experienced the
qualms of sickness, or the torture of disease, and which seems to
bid defiance to the enemies of health that surround it, is not
proof against the attacks of age. Even in the midst of life we are
in death; how many of us have contemplated with admiration the
graceful motion of the female form; the eye sparkling with
intelligence; the countenance enlivened by wit, or animated by
feeling: a single instant is sufficient to dispel the charm: often
without apparent cause, sensation and motion cease at once; the
body loses its warmth, the eyes their lustre, and the lips and
cheeks become livid. These, as Cuvier observes, are but preludes
to changes still more hideous. The colour passes successively to a
blue, a green, and a black; the flesh absorbs moisture, and while
one part of it escapes in pestilential exhalations, the remaining
part falls down into a putrid liquid mass. In a short time no part
of the body remains, but a few earthy and saline principles; its
other elements being disp