Ye giddy flutterers in the fantastic round of dissipation, who eagerly
seek pleasure in the lofty dome, rich treat, and midnight revel--tell
me, ye thoughtless daughters of folly, have ye ever found the phantom
you have so long sought with such unremitted assiduity? Has she not
always eluded your grasp, and when you have reached your hand to take
the cup she extends to her deluded votaries, have you not found the
long-expected draught strongly tinctured with the bitter dregs of
disappointment? I know you have: I see it in the wan cheek, sunk
eye, and air of chagrin, which ever mark the children of dissipation.
Pleasure is a vain illusion; she draws you on to a thousand follies,
errors, and I may say vices, and then leaves you to deplore your
thoughtless credulity.

Look, my dear friends, at yonder lovely Virgin, arrayed in a white robe
devoid of ornament; behold the meekness of her countenance, the
modesty of her gait; her handmaids are Humility, Filial Piety, Conjugal
Affection, Industry, and Benevolence; her name is CONTENT; she holds
in her hand the cup of true felicity, and when once you have formed an
intimate acquaintance with these her attendants, nay you must admit them
as your bosom friends and chief counsellors, then, whatever may be your
situation in life, the meek eyed Virgin wig immediately take up her
abode with you.

Is poverty your portion?--she will lighten your labours, preside at your
frugal board, and watch your quiet slumbers.

Is your state mediocrity?--she will heighten every blessing you enjoy,
by informing you how grateful you should be to that bountiful Providence
who might have placed you in the most abject situation; and, by teaching
you to weigh your blessings against your deserts, show you how much more