A Guide to the Mount’s Bay and the Land’s End. By Dr. Paris.
As this must in all probability be the last time of my addressing the
inhabitants of my native county through the medium of any permanent
work, I shall so far presume as to offer a few lines respecting
myself, nearly in the words used by two among the most distinguished
of modern writers.
Since it has pleased Almighty God so to constitute the world, that the
human race should every where increase up to the very limit of
subsistence, all countries must witness by far the greater portion of
their inhabitants exposed to the dangers of privation, of poverty, and
of distress, incapable of being mitigated in any way, except by the
prudence, the care, and the general good conduct of the parties
themselves; but easily and fatally susceptible of being augmented,
almost to an unlimited degree, by the establishment of permanent
charities, by distributions in the shape of largesses, and above all,
by the greatest and most melancholy achievement of human weakness and
short-sighted folly, the English system of poor laws, extending
premiums to idleness and improvidence, on a basis of indefinite relief
to claimants multiplying without end.
“My lot might have been thrown among these; it might have
been that of a savage, or a slave: nor can I reflect without
gratitude on the bounty of Nature, which has cast my birth
in a free and civilized country, in a family decently
endowed with the gifts of Fortune, in an age of science and
of philosophy, where years outrun in discoveries and in
improvements the advances of former centuries.”
It is not for me to determine how far these advantages have been
improved by myself; but at the age of threescore years and ten, I may
justly say with the other writer alluded to――
“The retrospect of life recalls to my view many
opportunities of good neglected, much time squandered upon
trifles, and more lost in idleness and vacancy. I leave many
great designs unattempted, and many great attempts
unfinished; but, my mind being free from the burden of any
heavy crime, I compose myself to tranquillity: I endeavour
to abstract my thoughts from hopes and cares, which, though
reason knows them to be vain, still try to keep their old
possession of my heart: I humbly expect the hour which
Nature cannot long delay; and with the most profound
adoration of the Divinity, I hope to possess in a better
state of existence, that happiness which here I could not
find, and that virtue which here I have been unable to
attain.”