XX. For the more clear understanding this matter, and to enforce the argument we are using, it will be necessary to premise, that in this life, there is a heavy and mortal affliction, which is common to all men; but with respect to sinners, it is peculiarly and most severely felt by those who seem the most happy. This affliction, consists in the reflection, that we must one day die. There is no doubt, but every living creature feels horror, upon arriving at that fatal pass, and is naturally sad, whenever it occurs to him, that he must unavoidably go through it; but he will be more affected beyond comparison, who after having culled all the regales of fortune, has placed his whole happiness in the enjoyment of them. Let us contemplate a man, rich, powerful, respected, and obeyed, and to whom nothing is wanting, either for convenience or pleasure, and to whom, let his appetites be ever so vague, fortune has denied nothing that may enable him to gratify them. Such a man, whenever he thinks that he must die, which is a thought that will sometimes occur to him, without his being able to prevent it, cannot fail to be exceedingly afflicted. The thought of death, to whoever does not employ it for the amendment of his life, becomes a torturer. Let us admit, that he is a determined Atheist, so blinded, as not to entertain the least idea of the immortality of the soul, and consequently, has not the least apprehension of what will befall him in the world to come; yet he will at least consider death, as a merciless, and a savage tyrant, who will despoil him of all that is most dear to him; of the property which he possesses, of the banquet he regales himself at, of the chace which diverts him, of the music which delights him, and of the concubine whom he adores; all which will be lost at a stroke, never to be recovered any more. The greater the pleasures are which he enjoys, the more miserable this consideration will make him. The unhappy man, who is the outcast of fortune, and even he who is placed in a middle station of life, feels the light consolation, that death will relieve him from many vexations; but what comfort can he receive, whom it will only rob of enjoyments? Death strikes terror into all men, but to such a one, it is terrible in extreme. Every man is intensely fond of his own particular happiness, and in proportion to the ardour with which he loves it, will be his grief at losing it. Such a man, when he thinks himself arrived at the summit of felicity, and knows no other than that which he possesses, with what anguish must he reflect, that the whole, without the least reserve, will be one day lost!