If he had proceeded in his project, and fixed his habitation in the most delightful part of the new world, it may be doubted, whether his distance from the _vanities_ of life, would have enabled him to keep away the _vexations_. It is common for a man, who feels pain, to fancy that he could bear it better in any other part. Cowley having known the troubles and perplexities of a particular condition, readily persuaded himself that nothing worse was to be found, and that every alteration would bring some improvement: he never suspected that the cause of his unhappiness was within, that his own passions were not sufficiently regulated, and that he was harassed by his own impatience, which could never be without something to awaken it, would accompany him over the sea, and find its way to his American elysium. He would, upon the trial, have been soon convinced, that the fountain of content must spring up in the mind: and that he who has so little knowledge of human nature, as to seek happiness by changing any thing but his own dispositions, will waste his life in fruitless efforts, and multiply the griefs which he purposes to remove[34]. [Footnote 34: See Dr. Johnson's Life of Cowley.] No. 7. TUESDAY, APRIL 10, 1750. _O qui perpetuâ mundum ratione gubernas,_ _Terrarum cœlique sator!----_ _Disjice terrenæ nebulas et pondera molis,_ _Atque tuo splendore mica! Tu namque serenum,_ _Tu requies tranquilla piis. Te cernere, finis,_ _Principium, vector, dux, semila, terminus idem._ BOETHIUS, lib. iii. Metr. 9. O Thou, whose pow'r o'er moving worlds presides, Whose voice created, and whose wisdom guides, On darkling man in pure effulgence shine, And cheer the clouded mind with light divine. 'Tis thine alone to calm the pious breast With silent confidence and holy rest: From thee, great God, we spring, to thee we tend, Path, motive, guide, original, and end. JOHNSON. The love of Retirement has, in all ages, adhered closely to those minds, which have been most enlarged by knowledge, or elevated by genius. Those who have enjoyed every thing generally supposed to confer happiness, have been forced to seek it in the shades of privacy. Though they possessed both power and riches, and were, therefore, surrounded by men who considered it as their chief interest to remove from them every thing that might offend their ease, or interrupt their pleasure, they have soon felt the languors of satiety, and found themselves unable to pursue the race of life without frequent respirations of intermediate solitude.