absolute hermit seems the most extraordinary. To those who are knit together in any kind of community, who are within call one of another, and in case of distress can depend on mutual succour, there may be some prospect of a comfortable existence. But for a being such as man, beset with innumerable wants, and exposed to innumerable disasters, to withdraw into a desert, and deprive himself of all assistance from his fellow-creatures, appears to be almost the same thing with a banishment to hopeless misery. The event, however, to a truly devout hermit, might be very different. We are not to suppose him always moping in his cell, or rapt in visions and extasies; his daily subsistence would require much of his time, another portion might be usefully and agreeably employed (for we need not imagine him either illiterate or unprovided with books) in the perusal of a few learned and ingenious authors, and, when his hours of devotion were added, but few would remain to fill up the longest day. And though it is not probable he would immediately discover all his advantages, as the eye, upon a sudden transition from the open sun-shine into the deep shade of a forest, cannot at once perceive distinctly the objects before it, yet, as he grew accustomed to his situation, and gradually acquired a proper knowledge of his resources, he might find the wilderness to become a fruitful field, and streams to flow in the desert. There are few situations among those that come under the description of a devotional retirement, which seem, on the whole, to be more eligible than that of a pious clergyman, called to minister to a plain and serious people, in some sequestered part of the country; and whose time is divided between his closet, his church, and his parochial visits. This succession of duties must render each of them the more pleasing and useful; the devotions of the closet will be a happy preparation for public worship; which, in its turn, will make way for more personal counsels and admonitions in his private interviews; and these will supply him with fresh matter for his own prayers and meditations, and direct him in his addresses from the pulpit. Such a course of piety, private and public, amongst a people separated from the bustle and fashions of the world, and seriously disposed to receive instruction, as it could not fail to produce the happiest effects, must, to a good man who is so engaged, be a source of unspeakable satisfaction. If it is pleasing to the farmer, for his grounds continually to improve under his care, while some are taken from the waste, and converted into good arable and pasture, and the rest ameliorated and made more productive; it must be still more pleasing to the moral cultivator, to see the fruit of his labours in the conversion of sinners, and the edification of the righteous; to see the human field whiten to the harvest, and grow meeter for the heavenly garner; while he himself fully partakes in the general progress. And, lastly, if to this concordance of private devotion with external duties and their happy fruits, there is added the comfort of domestic life, little is wanting to fill up that measure of human felicity so elegantly described by the author of The Seasons: Oh, speak the joy, ye whom the sudden tear And nothing meets your eye but sights of bliss! Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, RURAL PHILOSOPHY. PART IV. IN WHICH A COMMON OBJECTION AGAINST A LIFE of RETIREMENT, NAMELY, THAT IT DESTROYS OR DIMINISHES USEFULNESS, IS PARTICULARLY CONSIDERED. SECTION I. Containing some Remarks on the Utility arising from Public Station. THAT to withdraw from the world is the way to become less serviceable, if not absolutely useless, is a notion which carries so much appearance of truth, that we ought not to wonder, if men who venture upon such a step usually incur the censure of those who still maintain their post in society. To moderate this censure, which I apprehend is often too severe, I would submit to the consideration of these more active citizens, a few remarks on the utility of their own |