in trade against falling into his errors. In fact, had Probus been content with abstaining from all open dishonesty, and not pushed his notions of virtue beyond those entertained by his neighbour Prudentius, he might have been considered as a man of equal worth, and acquired a similar degree of popularity. If the opinion of Aristotle,-that "virtue consists in mediocrity," be sufficiently corroborated by that mode of thinking and acting generally prevalent in the world, of which some specimens have been given in the above observations; it is easy to prove the converse of the proposition, viz. that "vice consists only in extremes." The example of Prudentius has shown that, in the way of trade, a little of what stricter moralists would denominate fraud, is considered as not at all inimical to virtue. A person may cheat his neighbour at pleasure, and yet be esteemed for his purity of principle, provided he abstain from any very flagrant and gross breach of faith or honesty. He may occasionally be found in a state of intoxication, and yet obtain the praise of sobriety and temperance, provided he does not transgress in this point more frequently than the generality of those around him. He may now and then indulge in a licentious amour, if he only manage it with some little attention to decency, and abstain from any dishonourable attempts on the wives or daughters of his neighbours and equals; and yet maintain an unsullied character for virtue. Perhaps by a sudden impulse of vanity or feeling, he may be led to contribute handsomely to some popular charity, which will ever after entitle him to the praise of humanity, liberality, and beneficence; although he is nearly regardless of these duties through the remainder of life, and substitutes for them, in his own immediate sphere, a series of cold, imperious, arbitrary, and unfeeling conduct, which yet does not break out into such extremes as the world thinks to be alone deserving of reprobation. In respect to religion, he may profess his acquiescence in the doctrines of christianity, and maintain a regular and decent deportment, which will generally procure him the reputation of being a very pious and virtuous character; but if he appear more anxious to reduce his opinions into practice than the rest of those around him, and manifest a stronger sense of the necessity of stricter purity of heart and life-his virtue, in the estimation of the world, immediately acquires the nature of vice, and his piety is pronounced to be enthusiasm. NUMBER 29. On parties now our fate depends, And frowns or smiles as these are foes or friends. -WHITEHEAD. THE long interval of time* which has elapsed since the publication of my last number, has occasioned several inquiries whether my periodical labours had quite closed or only experienced a temporary interruption. I have been repeatedly reminded that many topics yet remained for discussion; that various characters, estimable for their virtues, ridiculous for their follies, or detestable for their vices, might with great propriety be held up to public view, as models to be copied or examples to be shunned. Instances of gross misconduct in different individuals, have been pointed out as deserving of the severest reprehension; while, on the other hand, I have been called upon to do an act of justice to the public, * Viz, from January 17 to October 3. in circulating the knowledge of various benevolent and charitable deeds, which otherwise might probably sink into oblivion. These proofs of the estimation in which my labours have been held by a part at least of the community, have indeed given me considerable gratification, but my readers need not be afraid that they have in anywise rendered me vain ; for I must candidly confess, that I have been favoured with an equal number of communications of an opposite nature: some blaming my temerity in undertaking a periodical paper; and others congratulating me on having relinquished a task, to which my long silence proved I had found myself unequal. One correspondent, in particular, has kindly condescended to write my epitaph; although I am not only yet alive, but, to spare any of my friends that trouble, had actually, in a preceding number,* composed one for myself, containing as large a portion of eulogy as my modesty would allow me to claim. To the latter class of correspondents I would merely hint, that my silence may perhaps be satisfactorily explained, without recurring to any of those causes to which they have assigned it. It is not improbable, that I might be tempted to *No, 6. follow the precept of Pythagoras for a season, in order that the value of my communications might be better appreciated, and my subsequent effusions rendered more desirable, in consequence of my taciturnity. At any rate, it would have been more charitable to have ascribed the suspension of my labours to that mystic influence of the seasons, which we are often told operates upon the imagination and fancy of the poet. The vein of Milton, we are informed by one of his biographers, never happily flowed but from the autumnal to the vernal equinox. As there seems no just cause why this excuse for indolence ought to be considered solely as a poetical privilege, may not the prose writer be supposed to be liable to a similar affection, though probably at a different season? Another reason yet remains to be suggested. Certain periods, however pregnant with occurrences of a nature sufficiently important to arrest the observation of an impartial INSPECTOR, and afford him materials for censure or applause, are not the most favourable for ensuring a proper degree of attention to his remarks. While engaged in the bustle of an election contest, or immersed in the whirlpool of party violence, few men have the leisure, and still fewer perhaps the inclination, to contemplate any other subject. G g |