ir existence. There is not any moment of the
lives of such men which is not injurious to others; both because they
leave the work undone which was appointed for them, and because they
necessarily think wrongly, whenever it becomes compulsory upon them to
think at all. The greater portion of the misery of this world arises
from the false opinions of men whose idleness has physically
incapacitated them from forming true ones. Every duty which we omit
obscures some truth which we should have known; and the guilt of a life
spent in the pursuit of pleasure is twofold, partly consisting in the
perversion of action, and partly in the dissemination of falsehood.

Sec. XXIX. There is, however, a less criminal, though hardly less
dangerous condition of mind; which, though not failing in its more urgent
duties, fails in the finer conscientiousness which regulates the degree,
and directs the choice, of amusement, at those times when amusement is
allowable. The most frequent error in this respect is the want of
reverence in approaching subjects of importance or sacredness, and of
caution in the expression of thoughts which may encourage like
irreverence in others: and these faults are apt to gain upon the mind
until it becomes habitually more sensible to what is ludicrous and
accidental, than to what is grave and essential, in any subject that is
brought before it; or even, at last, desires to perceive or to know
nothing but what may end in jest. Very generally minds of this
character are active and able; and many of them are so far
conscientious, that they believe their jesting forwards their work. But
it is difficult to calculate the harm they do, by destroying the
reverence which is our best guide into all truth; for weakness and evil
are easily visible, but greatness and goodness are often latent; and we
do infinite mischief by exposing weakness to eyes which cannot
comprehend greatness. This error, however, is more connected with abuses
of the satirical than of the playful instinct; and I shall have more to
say of it presently.

Sec. XXX. Lastly: The men who do not play at all: those who are so dull or
so morose as to be incapable of inventing or enjoying jest, and in whom
care, guilt, or pride represses all healthy exhilaration of the fancy;
or else men utterly oppressed with labor, and driven too hard by the
necessities of the world to be capable of any species of happy
relaxation.

Sec. XXXI. We have now to consider the w