as public characters, men of no principle, but of great talent, and men of no talent, but of one principle, that of obedience to their superiors. In fact there will never be a deficiency of this second class; persons who, like Doddington, have no higher ambition than that of sailing in the wake of a man of first rate abilities; "I told the duke of Newcastle, says he, (in the account he gives us of himself, in his Diary,) that it must end one way or the other, and must not remain as it was; for I was determined to make some sort of figure in life. I earnestly wished it might be under his protection, but if that could not be, I must make some figure; what it would be I could not determine yet, I must look around me a little, and consult my friends, but some figure I was resolved to make." Indeed, it is lamentable to think, what a gulph of impracticability must ever separate men of principle, whom offices want, from men of no principle, who want offices. It is easy to see that a Hampden, or a Marvell, could not be connected for one hour, with a Walpole*, or a Mazarin. Those who would conscientiously employ power for the good of others, deserve it, but do not desire it; and those who could employ it for the good of themselves, desire it, but do not deserve it.

XLIII.

IT is more easy to forgive the weak, who have injured us, than the powerful whom we have injured. That conduct will be continued by our fears, which commenced in our resentment. He that has gone so far as to cut the claws of the lion, will not feel himself quite secure, until he has also drawn his teeth. The greater the power of him

It is but justice to say of this great minister, who went such lengths in corrupting others, that there were some instances, in which he was himself incorruptible. He refused the sum of sixty thousand pounds, which was offered him to save the life of the earl of Derwentwater.

that is injured, the more inexpiable and persevering must be the efforts of those, who have begun to injure him. Therefore a monarch, who submits to a single insult, is half dethroned. When the conspirators were deliberating on the murder of Paul Petrowitz, emperor of Russia, a voice was heard in the anti-chamber, saying, "you have broken the egg, you had better make the omlet."

XLIV.

THAT cowardice is incorrigible, which the love of power cannot overcome. In the heat and frenzy of the French revolution, the contentions for place and power, never sustained the smallest diminution; appointments and offices were never pursued with more eagerness and intrigue, than when the heads of those who gained them, had they been held on merely by pieces of sticking plaister, could not have sat more loosely on their shoulders. Demagogues sprung up like mushrooms, and the crop seemed to be fecundated by blood; although it repeatedly happened that the guillotine had finished the favourite, before the plaisterer had finished the model, and that the original was dead, before the bust was dry.

XLV.

A MAN may arrive at such power, and be so successful in the application of it, as to be enabled to crush and to overwhelm all his enemies. But a safety, built upon successful vengeance, and established not upon our love, but upon our fear, often contains within itself the seeds of its own destruction. It is at best a joyless and a precarious safety, as short-lived as that of some conquerors, who have died from a pestilence, excited by the dead bodies of the vanquished.

XLVI.

MANY men fail in life, from the want, as they are too ready to suppose, of those great occasions wherein they might have shewn their trust-worthiness, and their inte grity. But all such persons should remember, that in order to try whether a vessel be leaky, we first prove it with water, before we trust it with wine. The more minute, trivial, and we might say vernacular opportunities of being just and upright, are constantly occurring to every one; and it is an unimpeachable character in these lesser things, that almost invariably prepares and produces those very opportunities of greater advancement, and of higher confidence, which turn out so rich a harvest, but which those alone are permitted to reap, who have previously

sown.

XLVII.

OF all the passions, jealousy is that which exacts the hardest service, and pays the bitterest wages. Its service is—to watch the success of our enemy, -its wages-to be sure of it.

XLVIII.

PEDANTRY prides herself on being wrong by rules; while common sense is contented to be right, without them. The former would rather stumble in following the dead, than walk upright by the profane assistance of the living. She worships the mouldering mummies of antiquity, and her will is, that they should not be buried, but embalmed. She would have truth herself bow to the authority of great names; while common sense would have great names bow to the authority of truth. Folly disgusts us less by her ignorance, than pedantry by her learning; since she mistakes the nonage of things for their virility; and her creed is, that darkness is increased, by the accession of

light; that the world grows younger by age; and that knowledge and experience are diminished, by a constant and uninterrupted accumulation.

XLIX.

THERE is but one pursuit in life which it is in the power of all to follow, and of all to attain. It is subject to no disappointments, since he that perseveres, makes every difficulty an advancement, and every contest a victory; and this is the pursuit of virtue. Sincerely to aspire after virtue, is to gain her, and zealously to labour after her wages, is to receive them. Those that seek her early, will find her before it is late; her reward also is with her, and she will come quickly. For the breast of a good man is a little heaven commencing on earth; where the Deity sits enthroned with unrivalled influence, every subjugated passion, "like the wind and storm, fulfilling his word."

L.

EVEN human knowledge is permitted to approximate in some degree, and on certain occasions, to that of the Deity, it's pure and primary source; and this assimilation is never more conspicuous that when it converts evil, into the means of producing its opposite good. What for instance appears at first sight to be so insurmountable a barrier to the intercourse of nations as the ocean; but science has converted it into the best and most expeditious mean, by which they may supply their mutual wants, and carry on their most intimate communications. What so violent as steam? and so destructive as fire? What so uncertain as the wind? and so uncontrolable as the wave? vet art has rendered these unmanageable things, instrumental and subsidiary to the necessities, the comforts, and even the elegancies of life. What so hard, so cold, and so in

sensible as marble? Yet the sculptor can warm it into life, and bid it breathe an eternity of love. What so variable as colour? so swift as light? or so empty as shade? Yet the pencil of a Raphael can give these fleeting things, both a body and a soul; can confer upon them an imperishable vigour, a beauty that increases with age, and which must continue to captivate generations. In short, wisdom can draw expedient from obstacle, invention from difficulty, safety from danger, resource from sterility, and remedy from poison. In her hands all things become beautiful, by their adaptment; subservient by their use; and salutary by their application.

LI.

AS there are none so weak, that we may venture to injure them with impunity, so there are none so low, that they may not at some time be able to repay an obligation. Therefore what benevolence would dictate, prudence would confirm. For he that is cautious of insulting the weakest, and not above obliging the lowest, will have attained such habits of forbearance and of complacency, as will secure him the good-will of all that are beneath him, and teach him how to avoid the enmity of all that are above him. For he that would not bruise even a worm, will be still more cautious how he treads upon a serpent.

LII.

THE only things in which we can be said to have any property, are our actions. Our thoughts may be bad, yet produce no poison, they may be good, yet produce no fruit. Our riches may be taken from us by misfortune, our reputation by malice, our spirits by calamity, our health by disease, our friends by death. But our actions must follow us beyond the grave; with respect to them alone, we can