No offense to Joseph Addison (something Pope could not say, of course), but these are terrible times, and it's dark up in this hemisphere, and it's supposed to be getting Christmasy, so who has the stomach to enjoy what the anonymous Complier of this reading guide has served up for us today, an overelaborate metaphor about death? (Summary: life is a bridge that's supposed to be longer than it is, over a complicated countryside, also with trapdoors) The other essay is about being buried. Yesterday's reading was about Death too.
All I can imagine is that the Compiler received an unpleasant phone call from his girlfriend right before figuring out these readings.
It's all too much for me today. I recommend abandoning your homework and spending time enjoying items like the following:
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Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses?
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