he alone is the fittest person to undertake the noble and often adventurous task of diverting the shafts of calumny from him who has been wounded without cause, has fallen without pity, and cannot stand without help. It is the possessor of unblemished character alone, who, on such an occasion, may dare to stand, like Moses, in the gap, and stop the plague of detraction, until Truth and Time, those slow but steady friends, shall come up, to vindicate the protected, and to dignify the protector. A good character, therefore, is carefully to be maintained for the sake of others if possible, more than ourselves; it is a coat of triple steel, giving security to the wearer, protection to the oppressed, and inspiring the oppressor with awe.

CCXCIX.

COURAGE is generosity of the highest order, for the brave are prodigal of the most precious things. Our blood is nearer and dearer to us than our money, and our life than our estate. Women are more taken with courage than with generosity, for it has all the merits of its sister virtue, with the addition of the most disinterested devotedness, and most powerful protection. Generosity enters so much into the constitution of courage, that, with the exception of the great Duke of Marlborough, we shall hardly find an instance of undaunted personal bravery, coexisting in the same breast, with great avarice. The self-denial of Christianity, the magnanimity of chivalry, all that is splendid in history, or captivating in romance, seems to have been made up of courage, or generosity, or of both. In fact, true courage, well directed, can neither be overpaid nor overpraised. An hero is not composed of common materials; his expence is hazard, his coin is blood, and out of the very

At a certain diplomatic dinner, where there were many foreigners of distinction, the duke gave for a toast, " My queen." One of the party who sat next to Prince Eugene, enquired of him, in a whisper, "what queen his grace had given ;" "I know of no queen that is his particular favourite," replied the prince, except it be "regina pecunia.”

impossibilities of the coward, he cuts a perilous harvest, with his sword. We cannot aspire to so high a character, on cheaper terms, otherwise Falstaff's soldiers might be allowed their claim, since they were afraid of nothing but danger. It is unfortunate, however, that presence of mind is always most necessary, when absence of body would be most desirable; and there is this paradox in fear, he is most likely to inspire it in others, who has none himself!

CCC.

NATURAL good is so intimately connected with moral good, and natural evil with moral evil, that I am as certain as if I heard a voice from Heaven proclaim it, that God is on the side of virtue. He has learnt much, and has not lived in vain, who has practically discovered that most strict and necessary connection, that does, and will ever exist, between vice and misery, and virtue and happiness. The greatest miracle that the Almighty could perform, would be, to make a bad man happy, even in Heaven; he must unparadise that blessed place to accomplish it. In its primary signification, all vice, that is all excess, brings its own punishment even here. By certain fixed, settled, and established laws of Him who is the God of Nature, excess of every kind destroys that constitution that temperance would preserve. The debauchee, therefore, offers up his body a living sacrifice" to sin.

CCCI.

TO know exactly how much mischief may be ventured upon with impunity, is knowledge sufficient for a little great man.

CCCII.

LOGIC is a large drawer, containing some useful instruments, and many more that are superfluous. But a wise man will look into it for two purposes, to avail himself of those instruments that are really useful, and to admire

L

the ingenuity with which those that are not so, are assorted and arranged.

CCCIII.

SOME have wondered that disputes about opinions should so often end in personalities; but, the fact is, that such disputes begin with personalities, for our opinions are a part of ourselves.

CCCIV.

MANY who find the day too long, think life too short; but short as life is, some find it long enough to outlive their characters, their constitutions, and their estates.

CCCV.

AS he gives proof of a sound and vigorous body, that accidentally transgressing the line of demarcation, is confined to a pest-house, and, at the end of his quarantine, comes out without being infected by the plague, so he that can live in courts, those hospitals of intellectual disease, without being contaminated by folly or corruption, gives equal proof of a sound and vigorous mind. But, as no one thinks so meanly of a conjuror as his own Zany, so none so thoroughly despise a court, as those who are thoroughly acquainted with it, particularly if to that acquaintance they also add due knowledge of themselves; for many have retired in disgust from a court which they felt they despised, to a solitude which they merely fancied they could enjoy, only, like Charles the Fifth, to repent of their repentance. Such persons, sick of others, yet not satisfied with themselves, have closed each eventless day with an anxious wish to be liberated from so irksome a liberty, and to retire from so melancholy a retirement; for it requires less strength of mind to be dissatisfied with a court, than to be contented with a cloyster, since to be disgusted with a court, it is only necessary to be acquainted with courtiers, but to enjoy a cloyster, we must have a thorough knowledge of ourselves.

CCCVI.

OCEANS of ink, and reams of paper, and disputes infinite might have been spared, if wranglers had avoided lighting the torch of strife at the wrong end; since a tenth part of the pains expended in attempting to prove the why, the where, and the when certain events have happened, would have been more than sufficient to prove that they never happened at all.

CCCVII.

THE most admired statues of the Pagan deities, were produced in an age of general infidelity; and the Romans, when sincere believers in their mythology, had not a single god tolerably executed; and yet Seneca observes, that these primitive "fictiles dei," these gods of clay, were much more propitious than those of marble, and were worshipped with an adoration more ardent and sincere. Something similar to what happened to the religion of imperial, has since happened to that of pontifical Rome. Formerly that altar was contented with utensils of wood, and of lead, but its rites were administered by an Austin and a Chrysostom-priests of gold! Things are now reversed; the altar of St. Peter, says Jortin, has golden utensils, but leaden priests.

CCCVIII.

IT rarely happens that the finest writers are the most capable of teaching others their art. If Shakespear, himself, had been condemned to write a system of metaphysics explanatory of his magic influence over all the passions of the mind, it would have been a dull and unsatisfactory work; a heavy task both to the reader, and to the writer. All preceptors, therefore, should have that kind of genius described by Tacitus, "equal to their business, but not above it;" a patient industry, with competent erudition; a mind depending more on its correctness than its originality, and on its memory, rather than on its invention. If we

wish to cut glass, we must have recourse to a diamond; but if it be our task to sever iron or lead, we must make use of a much coarser instrument. To sentence a man of true genius to the drudgery of a school, is to put a race horse in a mill.

CCCIX.

HISTRIONIC talent is not so rare a gift as some imagine, it is both over-rated and over-paid. That the requisites for a first rate actor, demand a combination not easily to be found, is an erroneous assumption, ascribable, perhaps, to the following causes: The market for this kind of talent must always be understocked, because very few of those who are really qualified to gain theatrical fame, will condescend to start for it. To succeed, the candidate must be a gentleman by nature, and a scholar by education; there are many who can justly boast of this union, but out of that many, how few are there that would seek or desire theatrical celebrity. The metropolitan theatre, therefore, can only be recruited from the best samples which the provincial theatres will afford, and this is a market, abundant as to quantity, but extremely deficient as to quality. Johnson told Garrick that he and his profession were mutually indebted to each other: "Your profession,” said the doctor, “ has made you rich, and you have made your profession respectable.” Such men as Smith, Garrick, Kemble, and Young, might do honour to any profession, and would, perhaps, have succeeded in any; but their attempting success in this department is much more extraordinary than their attaining it; for, in general, those who possess the necessary qualifications for an actor, also feel that they deserve to be something better, and this feeling dictates a more respectable arena. Neither is the title to talent bestowed by the suffrages of a metropolitan audience, always unequivocal. Such an audience is, indeed, a tribunal from which an actor has no appeal; but there are many causes which conspire to warp and to bias its judgment; and it often happens that it is more difficult to