and reproach. He, whom a doubtful promise of distant
good could encourage to set difficulties at
defiance, ought not to remit his vigour, when he has
almost obtained his recompense. To faint or loiter,
when only the last efforts are required, is to steer
the ship through tempests, and abandon it to the
winds in sight of land; it is to break the ground and
scatter the seed, and at last to neglect the harvest.

The masters of rhetorick direct, that the most
forcible arguments be produced in the latter part
of an oration, lest they should be effaced or perplexed
by supervenient images. This precept may be justly
extended to the series of life: nothing is ended with
honour, which does not conclude better than it began.
It is not sufficient to maintain the first vigour;
for excellence loses its effect upon the mind by
custom, as light after a time ceases to dazzle.
Admiration must be continued by that novelty which first
produced it, and how much soever is given, there
must always be reason to imagine that more remains.

We not only are most sensible of the last
impressions, but such is the unwillingness of mankind
to admit transcendant merit, that, though it be
difficult to obliterate the reproach of miscarriages by
any subsequent achievement, however illustrious,
yet the reputation raised by a long train of success
may be finally ruined by a single failure; for
weakness or errour will be always remembered by that