566 
CONCLUSION OF THE YEAR. 
Here’s to * and to his right ear, 
God send our maister a happy New Year; 
A happy New Year as e’er he did see — 
With my Wassailing Bowl I drink to thee. 
Come, butler, bring us a bowl of the best : 
I hope your soul in heaven will rest : 
But if you do bring us a bowl of the small, 
Then down fall butler, bowl, and all. 
The name of some horse. 
Conclusion of the Year. 
Dost thou know the price of a day, an hour, or a minute ? Didst 
thou ever examine the value of time 'i If thou hadst, thou wouldst 
employ it better, and not spend so many happy opportunities upon 
trifles ; and so easily and so insensibly part with so inestimable a 
treasure. What is become of thy past hours? Have they made 
thee a promise to come again when thou callest for them ? or canst 
thou shew me which way they went? No, no ; they are gone without 
recovery; and in their flight, methinks. Time seems to turn his head, 
and laugh over his shoulder in derision at those that made no better 
use of him, when they had him. Dost thou know that all the minutes 
of our life are but as so many links of a chain that has death at the 
extremity ; and every moment brings thee nearer thy expected dis- 
solution? Perchance while the word is speaking, it may be at thy 
very door. How stupid is he who dies while he lives, for fear of 
dying ! How insensible is he that lives as if he should never die, and 
only fears death when he comes to feel it ! — Quevedo, Vision 5th. 
To-morrow you will live, you always cry; 
In what far country does this morrow lie, 
That ’tis so mighty long ere it arrive ? 
Beyond the Indies does this morrow live? 
^Tis so far fetch’d this morrow, that I fear 
’Twill be both very old and very dear. 
To-morrow I will live, the fool does say; 
To-day itself’s too late, — the wise lived yesterday ! 
Martial, by Cowley, lib. v. 48. 
** Every year we behold proofs and symptoms of decay. All things 
around us are subject to dissolution, and are actually dissolving. The 
mountain oak, which flourished for ages, now stands a blighted trunk, 
inspiring melancholy. Places renowned of old for beauty and 
defence, are known to us now only by their names. Of Jerusalem and 
Mount Sion, of which such glorious things are said, there is not one 
stone left upon another. Babylon, the mighty Babylon, is fallen — is 
fallen. Families, and states, and empires, have their rise, and glory, 
and decline. The earth itself is waxing old. The sun, and stars, 
and elements, shall at last dissolve. Years, as they pass, speak us 
of the consummation of all things. Listen to their farting voice. In 
still, but solemn language, they speak of the Angel who shall lift up 
his hand to heaven, and swear by him that liveth for ever and ever — 
There shall be time no more'' 
