sends forth a bulky addition to their reading, to encum- | possesses, in prose, many of those peculiarities of man

ber and perplex the science, and make it more and more a riddle to common minds.

The volume before us, besides these more general objections, is liable to at least another special one. Many of its cases are inordinately voluminous. That of Hannah K. Chase fills 30 pages--Lingan v. Henderson 47 pages--Cunningham v. Browning 33 pages--Owings' case 40 pages--and "the Chancellor's case" 92 pages! The third one of these cases involves no principle that can probably affect any mortal out of Maryland, and the last is not even a judicial decision in Maryland! It is a mere determination of the legislature of that state, touching the salary of a judge. They might all, we are full sure, have been shortened by two-thirds, with great advantage to their perspicuity, as well as to the reader's time, patience and money.

ner, which in so great a measure distinguished, and we must say disfigured, the author's poem of the Cirreide. Here are the same affectations, the same Tacitus-ism, and the same indiscriminate elevation of tone. The edition of this book by Saunders and Otley is well printed, with a clear large type, and excellently bound.

MADRID IN 1835.

Madrid in 1835. Sketches of the Metropolis of Spain and its Inhabitants, and of Society and Manners in the Peninsula. By a Resident Officer. Two volumes in one. New York: Saunders & Olley.

One portion of this title appertains to volume the first, the other to volume the second. Of Madrid, the author has managed to present a vivid picture by means of a few almost scratchy outlines. He by no means goes over the whole ground of the city, nor is he more defi

There are no running dates on the margin, showing in what year each case was decided. But in other res-nite than necessary; but the most striking features of pects, the getting up of the book is uncommonly good. The paper, typography, and binding, are all of the first order. We are sorry however that these appliances were not bestowed to better purpose.

LUCIEN BONAPARTE.

the life and still-life of the Metropolis are selected with judgment, and given with effect. The manner of the narrative is singularly à la Trollope—and this we look upon as no little recommendation with that large proportion of readers who, in laughing over a book, care not overmuch whether the laugh be at the author or with him.

with his subject. Such passages as the following, however, are perhaps somewhat overcolored :

Memoirs of Lucien Bonaparte, (Prince of Canino,) The sketches, here, of the manners and social habits written by himself. Translated from the original manu- of Madrid are done with sufficient freedom, and a startscript, under the immediate superintendence of the author. Part the First, (from the year 1792, to the year 8 of the Re-ing degree of breadth; yet the details, for the most part, have an air of profound truth, and the conviction will public.) force itself upon the mind of the reader that the "ReIn the publication of these memoirs the Prince of Ca-sident Officer" who amuses him is thoroughly conversant nino disclaims any personal views. "I do it," he says, "because they appear to offer materials of some value to a history so fruitful in great events, of which the seNo place offers such perfect social facility as the rious study may be useful in future to my country." In Spanish tertulia. Any body presented by any other the commencement of the brief introduction from which body at all known to the master of the house, is sure to these words of his are quoted, he complains, but with- be politely received, and, unless in some very peculiar out acrimony, of the pamphleteers who have too often case, offered the house-the usual compliment paid to a stranger or new acquaintance. The great demoralizamade him the subject of their leisure. Revelations, tion of society in Spain, may be attributed, in no small secret memoirs, collections of anecdotes, the fruits of degree, to this unbounded admission of a nameless imaginations without shame or decency, have not spared crowd, destitute even of the slightest pretensions to me. I have read all of them in my retirement, and I birth, talent or character, into the best houses of the was at first surprised how I could have drawn upon my-by, the most distinguished individuals in the nation-on capital and country, where they elbow, and are elbowed self so many calumnies, never having offended any per- a footing of the most perfect equality. . . . . A deBut my astonishment ceased when I had better cent coat and look, and the show of a few ounces, are appreciated my position-removed from public affairs, much better passports to society than the best character without influence, and almost always in silent or open and station. The master of the house is frequently ig opposition to the powers, though sufficiently near to The usual answer to the query "Do you know that norant of the quality and circumstances of his guests. keep them constantly in fear of my return to favor, how man?" is "No, I know nothing at all about him; he was it possible for the malice of the courtiers to leave was introduced by so-and-so, who comes here often, but me in repose?" he appears a buen sujeto, muy fino y atento.”

son.

It is not our intention to speak at length of these me- Notwithstanding the greater variety and racy pictu moirs. Neither is such a course necessary in regard to resqueness of volume one, volume two will be found upon a work which will, and must be read, by every person the whole more entertaining. Here the author deals who pretends to read at all. The author professes to freely, and en connoisseur, with the Ministry, the Mosuppress all details that are foreign to public affairs-nasteries, the Clergy and their influence, with Prisons, yet he has not too strictly adhered to his intention. Beggars, Hospitals and Convents. This portion of the There are many merely personal and private anecdotes work includes also some memorabilia of the year 1835— which have a very shadowy bearing, if any, upon the the Cholera and the Massacre of July. A chapter on political movements of the times. That the whole the Spanish Nobility is full of interest. volume is of deep interest it is almost unnecessary to say-for this the subject is alone an assurance. The style of the Prince de Canino, is sufficiently well known to a majority of our readers. The book now before us

The work is a large octavo of 340 pages, handsomely printed and bound, and embellished with two good engravings-one of the Convent of the Salesas Viejas, the other of the Prado by twilight.

papers, I thought it right to rig myself out in somewhat better style than usual, so I put on my best bib and tucker and repaired to town and sought a barber's

Wouldst thou know, stranger, wherefore the vain cares, shop to get my hair cut and my beard shaved, humming,

And envious strifes, and ills of this sad world

Vex not my thoughts serene,

Nor fright my peace of soul?

Wherefore its wild commotions fret me not,
And the vain pageants of its summer smile,
(More fleeting than the light)
Nor dazzle, nor distract?

It is not that a swelling pride doth lift
My spirit 'bove the reach of changeful Fate,
Or shield me from the ills
To mortal lot assigned;

Or teach me with a scorn unwise to turn
From good on all bestowed, the boon of Heaven:-
'Tis not that spells I bear

By stern cold Reason wrought :

But in my spirit's inmost treasure-house
There is a blessed world, from evil free,
Nor wearying cares come nigh

The chambers of the soul!

In this fair home hath Thought her palace reared,
And planted living flowers; there flow the springs
Of Fancy, pure and bright,

In sweet rejoicing streams.

There bends the golden heaven of Poesy,

as I went along, the old song,

"I called to the barber, come shave me boy, do you hear, And I'll give you sixpence for to spend in ale or beer; Shave me, shave me, barber come shave me,

Make me look neat and spruce that Molly may have me."

Sixpence quotha!-it cost me four and sixpence, at the least. When I opened the door, I was so much astonished at the elegance of the apartment, that I drew back, and would have retired, thinking I had made some mistake, when two or three fellows flew out upon me, and began brushing my coat with such impetuous violence, that I could not escape from them; indeed, it was with much ado that I could prevent my ears from being brushed off, by their whizzing brooms. I was as restive, you may depend upon it, as my horse is under a cedar broom; twice they struck me severe blows on the cheek, but always begged pardon, so I could not be offended; and, indeed, I had made up my mind when I left home, not to betray my ignorance of present cusAll this time two small shavers were dusting my boots, and I protest it was with much difficulty I could keep my legs. After considerable suffering on my part, and repeated declarations of my being satisfied with their services, and paying each of them something, (for I saw they expected it,) they desisted. I now expressed a wish to be shaved and trimmed, and was immediately disrobed, and ushered to a high-backed chair, where my head was roughly thrown back, my chin tucked,

toms.

With gladdening sunlight fraught; there blandest airs and the operation of shaving performed in the twinkling

Breathe o'er the fragrant soil,

And palmy groves ascend.

Thus is it that Life's clamors and complaints,
And idle vaunts, unheeded pass me by,

Like the dull streamlet's voice,

Or inarticulate wind.

Amid the jarring storm's discordant strife,
O, searcher after rest! may'st thou too hear
That mightier melody

From chords attuned of Heaven!

of an ejaculation. It did not take long to cut my hair and strangle me with cologne water; but what was my surprise, when they were done with me, to find the whole of my occiput as bare as the palm of my hand, and nothing left upon my head but a few straggling locks at the side, time having already stripped naked my forehead. I was sadly vexed, but what could I say? I had voluntarily put myself in their power, and was devoutly glad when I got into the street, that I had escaped alive from their hands. Well, I had now paid four-and-sixpence; I had lost all my hair; my face had been scratched by brooms and lacerated by a razor, and I had learned in exchange, that barbers were different folks now-a-days from what they used to be, and that men were brushed down like horses-rather a bad speculation! I had not been in this world, it is true, "ever Forty years ago, I used to be a great traveller, and since king Pepin was a little boy," but I was pretty was pretty well acquainted with the means of trans-old, and had never been treated so unceremoniously in portation then in use; but about that time, I retired to my life. I had imagined when I entered the house, that the country and settled upon a small farm, where II was going into just such a shop as my old friend Kiphave, until lately, pursued the even tenor of my way. During the last summer, some business compelled me to set out for a distant point, and I left my little home with extreme reluctance. As I was to travel in a world about which I knew but little, except through the news

MODERN TRAVELLING.

pin used to keep, who received me with the profoundest of bows, and shaved me with a solemnity of manner that suited my temper exactly. No tawdry ornaments hung upon his walls; no mirrors flashed wheresoever you turned; no newspapers lay scattered around; no VOL. II-93

snoring and snorting around me; the intense heat, produced by the juxta-position of so many human bodies, effectually banished sleep from my eyelids; I was “in a state of dissolution and thaw," and wished myself any where else, even in "the Domdaniel caves under the roots of Ocean," if there were such a place, so that I could escape my present thraldom. How often have I wondered, said I to myself, that people could be so fool

Helen Jewetts or other engravings caught your eye. | severally peeped into it; at length, one prying more His walls were mute as "Tara's Halls"-a piece of earnestly than the others, exclaimed, “halloo, my broken looking-glass stood upon the table, and an old hearty, you are in the wrong box; you must come out.” shaving-can, encrusted with the smoke of a thousand | I made no reply, and he repeated his command to me fires, sat disconsolately in the chimney; but, nevertheless, to turn out-still I said nothing, and he turned to the these modern fellows cannot shave as Kippin "used captain: "I say captain, here's a Jackson man in my to could." There is too much hurry in every thing birth." "Yes," said I, feeling my dander rise, as honest now-a-days! It is true, shaving must be done by steam-Jack Downing says, "and I shall assume the responsithe water ought to be hot, but the razor travels too in- bility of staying in it." Alas! I reckoned without my continently fast, and the whirlpools in my beard cannot host, for the captain came up and desired me to evacuate be crossed over with such despatch-but pshaw! this the premises. "Why," said I, "captain, I thought possesis nothing to what I have to tell of the changes in this sion was cleven points of law." "None of your nonsense, world. My first trip was to be made in a steamboat sir," returned he, and took hold of my arm. Seeing which was to start (fly, perhaps, would be a better how matters stood, I fixed myself, Dentatus-like, with word) at ten o'clock at night. I had never been in one, my back to the side of the boat, and seizing my hickory having been of the same opinion with old what's his stick, defended myself manfully, but numbers prevailed name, who never could be induced to go on board, not over valor, and I was, at last, ignominiously dragged even when the boat was lying at the wharf without a forth, like Smith from the Chickahominy Swamp, to particle of fire-when urged to go, and told that there the no small amusement of the company, some of whom was no earthly danger, he always shook his head hurraed for old baldpate. Here was a pretty commencedoubtingly, and declared "there was no knowing when ment of my journey! In the end, I was compelled to accidents might happen." However, go I must; my bu-sleep upon a table, think o' that! and imagine my horsiness required despatch, and there was no mode of tra- ror when I found myself stretched out like a corpse, velling so expeditious. Accordingly, I went on board, with a sheet over me!! All my previous fears of being and passing the fire-room, where they were just firing scalded to death rushed upon my mind, and I made sure up, I stopped, with unfeigned horror, and asked myself that this was indeed my winding-sheet. The thumping if, indeed, I was prepared to die! I almost fancied my-of the boat; the groans of the lever above, leaping and self at the entrance of the infernal regions, and the fire-pitching like some vast giant struggling to be free; the men, all begrimed and black and covered with sweat, seemed like the imps of the devil, tossing the damned spirits into the flames. I shuddered and turned away, inwardly vowing if heaven would be graciously pleased to spare me this time, I would never again, voluntarily, put myself in the way of being burnt to death. I proceeded to the cabin, which I found, as yet, unoccupied, and you may be certain if the barber's shop had surprised me, my amazement was now complete, at finding my-hardy as to live at the foot of Mount Etna or Vesuvius,' self in the most splendid apartment I had ever beheld. where they are liable to be overwhelmed in a moment I shall not attempt any description, because I have no by burning lava; and here am I, lying near the crater of doubt, Mr. Editor, you have seen many a one; all I a volcano, without the hope of escape if there should be shall say is, that having examined every thing with as an eruption!! Overwhelmed by the oppressive weight much wonder as did parson Polyglott when "he din-of my thoughts, I sunk, from absolute exhaustion, ner'd wi' a Lord,” I laid myself down in a birth, and about daybreak, into a doze, from which I was almost could not satisfy myself of my personal identity, any immediately aroused by a bell, which I mistook for the more than could he who went once to see some great last trump, and springing up, perceived that it anman, and was treated with so much distinction, that nounced our arrival at the place of destination, and I when he retired to bed, he lay some time revolving all was forced to huddle on my clothes as fast as possible. that had passed, and the scene around him, and exclaim- [Such a scene of confusion and hurry as now presented ed, can this be me!" Putting his foot out of bed, (he itself, baffles my poor powers of description. Passenhad a remarkable foot,) egad! he cried, that is certainly gers, porters, trunks, wheelbarrows, hackmen, every my foot. Just so, clapping my hand to the back of my body and every thing, in one moving mass upon the head, and feeling that the barber had nearly scalped wharf, so completely confounded the few brains I had, me, I became assured that it was indeed your humble that I stood like a fool, while "hack, sir?" was bawled in servant, and was trying to compose myself, when I one ear, “hack, sir?” in another—“omnibus, sir? do you heard a cry of "the stage is come," and in a few mo-go in the omnibus ?" One pulled me by the right, anoments in walked the captain and seated himself at his writing-table, and immediately afterwards forty passengers, at least, rushed into the cabin, all talking in the loudest key, and dressed in every variety of mode, and seeming to strive with one another who should get first to the captain to pay his money. What does this mean? thought I; wherefore such hurry? "Why need they be so forward with death who calls not on them?" as Falstaff says. I soon found out the cause; they were securing births, and as they passed mine, they

66

ther by the left, until my limbs were almost dislocated. At last, remembering a little of my latin, I concluded it must be right to go with all, and I cried out "omnibus!” "Your baggage, sir, where is it?" "God only knows, my friend," said I. "Is this it, sir ?" "Yes, yes." Into the omnibus they shoved me, with such despatch, that had I been the "stout gentleman” himself, I am sure none could have seen even the "broad disk of my pantaloons." It was the first time in my life, that I had ever travelled in a carriage without shutting the door, ex

cept once, upon compulsion, when my horses ran off with me; but if you will credit me, sir, there is no door to an omnibus; so I suppose omnibus means without a door, but in what language is more than I pretend to know. Perhaps it may be the Garamna language, but none but the author of the Doctor can tell that. If you should be acquainted with the tongue, Mr. Editor, just drop me a hint in your next number, and I shall be much obliged to you.

FRIENDSHIP,*

AN ESSAY.

Solem e mundo tollere videntur, qui amicitiam a vitâ tollunt; quâ a Diis immortalibus, nihil melius, nihil jucundius, habemus. Cicero de Amicitia.

Well, praised be heaven, I had escaped the death of a hog, and felt somewhat revived by the morning air. Away we whirled with great rapidity to the rail road depot, where the cars were ready to receive us. We were told that from some irregularity, I never knew what, we were to be drawn for some miles by horses, and I blessed my stars at the occurrence, as I had been anticipating, with some dread, that wonderful velocity of the engines of which I had heard and read so much; Pleasure, to be really such, must be the matter of but short-lived indeed was my joy, as it began to be a our own free choice and voluntary election; whatever is matter of interesting speculation whether the cars meet-commanded immediately becomes a duty; and though ing us, might not, peradventure, be driven by steam. by the goodness and wisdom of the commander, the We had not proceeded far, before our apprehensions paths of duty may lead to pleasure; yet strictly and were realized. Just as we turned an abrupt curvature properly speaking, pleasure can never be enjoined by in the road, there came the engine roaring and snorting any authority, can never submit to the bonds of obligaupon us!! Mr. Editor, I have been pursued in my tion.

affords, and though friendship may be recommended as the most valuable acquisition and the highest enjoyment, it cannot be enjoined as a duty, or as an indispensable obligation; so that, if, after our utmost researches in pursuit of it, we should be disappointed, we cannot be condemned as criminal, or deficient in what we owe to our own happiness.

Friendship, to adopt the definition given by Lord Shaftsbury, is that peculiar relation which is formed by a consent and harmony of minds, by mutual esteem and reciprocal affection. Friendship, therefore, can never be enjoined as a duty, since our lot in life may never be cast amongst those whose minds will harmonize with our own; it is rather to be considered a singular bles

time by a mad bull; I have been upon the point of being No virtue can be more amiable and excellent than tossed upon his horns; I have been in the imminent peril | friendship, no pleasures more refined than that which it of being run over by squadrons of wild horses which had taken the stampado; I have seen perils by sea and perils by land, but never had I felt such alarm, such destitution of all hope of escape as now. Our driver sprang from his seat, and had just time to unhitch his horses, but what were we to do? One man jumped out and broke his leg, the rest of us kept our seats. I could not leave mine-I was transfixed with horror-my eyes were starting from my head and my mouth wide open. Breathless, we awaited the shock, and soon it came like a thunder-crash. What happened to others I cannot tell. All I remember distinctly is that the concussion was so tremendous, that it brought my two remaining teeth so violently together, that they were both knocked out; they were the last of the Capulets, and I would not have taken a thousand dollars a piece for them; it is a wonder I did not die of fright-my hair, if I had had any, must have turned grey; but thanks to the barber, I had none. I was taken up more dead than alive, and nothing could induce me to hazard my life again. I consigned to the devil all cars, steamboats, rail-roads, their projectors and inventors, solemnly vowing never to be in a hurry again as long as I lived, but to remember the old maxin, festina lente-make haste slowly.

My business I abandoned in despair,-bought the dullest horse I could procure,-sold my trunk and got a pair of saddle-bags, and resolved to jog slowly and safely homeward. After a fatiguing journey, I reached my own house, where nobody knew me. When I told my wife who I was and what had occurred to me, she said it was a judgment upon me for being such a fool as to cut my hair in that fashion. She will never listen to me now when I attempt to repeat the particulars of my excursion, and that is the reason that I have concluded to trouble you with my history. If it should entertain you, and serve as a warning to my countrymen not to be in such a confounded hurry in doing every thing, I

*When New York was in possession of the English during the war of the revolution, the officers, to relieve the monotony of a garrison life, established a society in which some subject of a literary character was discussed at every meeting. Before this society was read this essay, by Mr. Gilchrist--which we print from his original MS. Of their author, personally, we know little, except that he was not an officer in either the army or navy, or a member of either of the learned professions, although a gentleman of literary taste and extensive acquirements. Henry K. White, in a letter to his brother Neville, mentions a Mr. Gilchrist as one of the contributors to the "Monthly Mirror," with Capel Lofft, Robert Bloomfield and others. If Mr. G. returned to England he was probably the author of most of the articles in the Monthly Mirror over the signature of Octavius. Judge Hoffman and Mr. Dunlap of New York, may be able to give some account of him, as well as of the "Literary Society,"

About this same time there existed, perhaps in opposition to, or in ridicule of the "Literary Society," a junto formed by the young ladies, together with the students of medicine, and other young men of New York, and called the "Dreaming Society” one or more of whose members were appointed at each meeting to prepare an essay for the next, (either in prose or verse,) which essay was either to be a dream, or to represent the essayist as having obtained it by means of a dream, or to have written it while asleep. The sisters of Lindley Murray; the late Dr. Samuel L. Mitchell; Mr. Dunlap, (we believe,) the author of the History of the American Theatre ;" and Judge Hoffman, were members.

Having taken a view of the difficulties to be met with, I shall next take notice of those qualifications which seem necessary to obtain real and permanent friendship: and here we shall find that virtue is the only sure

sing, vouchsafed, perhaps, to few, but when vouch- | whose principal maxinı is to suspect-nor can the cansafed, one of the most exquisite cordials in human life. dor and frankness of that man be much esteemed, who Intending man for social happiness, the author of his spreads his arms to human kind, and makes every man, nature, in great wisdom and goodness, hath given this without distinction, a denizen of his bosom. Such is impulse to the human heart; and the heart rarely errs, the picture of human disposition, drawn by the pen of or misleads us in its hints and admonitions. What a that great moral master. pleasure, what a comfort is it, to have one in perfect amity with us, to whom we can at all times unbosom ourselves with perfect confidence and safety, with wltom we can enjoy all the refinements and peculiar pleasures of rational conversation; one who will ten-solid basis on which it can be built: if founded on other derly enter into and share all our griefs, or kindly participate in all our joys; thus heightening the one, and alleviating the other. What pleasure to have a friend upon the wisdom of whose counsels we can safely rely in all our difficulties, in all our embarrassments; whose power and interest will always be at hand to succor and assist, or whose affection, at least, will always be forward to console and cheer us. Providence gives nothing in mortal life more valuable than such a friend; but the difficulty of the acquisition is in proportion to

the value.

or less worthy motives, its continuance is short and precarious: as those motives shift and vary, it will vary with them: Cicero, in the treatise from which I have taken the prefatory lines says, "Nec sine virtute, amicitia esse ullo pacto potest." Such unions deserve not the name of friendship; they are rather confederacies, so much the more dangerous and hurtful, as the uniting causes are mean and vicious.

To this mutual and virtuous complacency, is generally necessary, an uniformity of opinions, at least of those active and conspicuous principles which discrimi

differences in regard to these subsist, debates will arise; vehemence, acrimony and vexation, and, in time, an utter extinction of benevolence, will ensue. Intercourse of civilities may continue, but the poison of discord is infused, and though the countenance may preserve its smile, the heart is hardening and contracting; to use another quotation from the same author, "accedat autem suavitas quædam oportet sermonum atque morum, haudquaquam mediocre condimentum amicitie.”

I cannot express my sentiments better on the difficul-nate parties in government, or sects in religion. When ties which attend the acquisition of real friendship, than in the words of one of the most masterly writers of the age. When Socrates, says he, was building himself a house at Athens, being asked by one that observed the littleness of the design, why a man so eminent would not have an abode more suitable to his dignity, he replied, "That he should think himself sufficiently accommodated, if he could see that habitation, narrow as it was, filled with real friends." Such was the opinion of that great master of human life, concerning the unfrequency of such an union of minds as might deserve the name of friendship.

exquisite and generous sensibility-in short, all the dis. positions directly opposite to those before mentioned; partly the produce of a kind and indulgent nature, and partly of virtuous culture.

Let us not, however, forget, while we specify those good qualities necessary to be found in another, that we are under every obligation to cultivate them in our

Besides virtue and similarity of leading opinions and dispositions, there are many other qualifications necessary to the refinement of friendship; such as an openMultitudes are unqualified for a constant and warm ness and frankness of temper, joined with the greatest reciprocation of benevolence, by perpetual attention to faithfulness, prudence and discretion; a constancy and their interest, and unresisting subjection to their pas-firmness of mind; an evenness and uniformity of besions; many varieties of dispositions also, not incon- | havior, a suavity of manners, an absence of all jealousy, sistent with the common degrees of virtue, may exclude a readiness to overlook little faults and foibles, and an friendship from the heart. Some, ardent enough in their benevolence, are mutable and uncertain, soon at tracted by new objects, disgusted without offence, and alienated without enmity. Others are soft and flexible, easily influenced by reports and whispers, ready to catch alarms from every dubious circumstance, and to listen to every suspicion which envy and flattery shall suggest. Some are impatient of contradiction, more wil-selves; for as no friendship can either be real or lasting ling to go wrong by their own judgment, than to be indebted for a safer and better way to the sagacity of others, inclined to consider counsel as insult, and inquiry as want of confidence. Some are dark and involved, equally careful to conceal good and bad purposes, and pleased by showing their design only in the execution. Others are unusually communicative, alike open to every eye, and equally profuse of their own secrets and those of others, ready to accuse without malice, and to betray without treachery. Any of these may be useful to the community, and pass through the world with the reputation of uncorrupted morals, but they are unfit for close and tender intimacy. He cannot properly be chosen for a friend, whose kindness is exhaled by its own warmth, or frozen by the first blast of slander- To enumerate all the advantages and all the pleasures he cannot be a useful counsellor who will hear no opi- of friendship, were I equal to the task, would far exceed nion but his own-he will not much invite confidence, my limits-that friendship which gives to human life

which is not founded on virtue and the good qualities above enumerated, it follows that our entry into the union must encourage the cultivation of every right and amiable principle in the soul. Two virtuous minds will stimulate each other in every laudable pursuit, will guard each other from every wrong propensity, and criminal deviation; and never dare either of them to commit an action which the other would hear of with concern, or behold with a blush.

Nor is this union of less utility for the improvement of the lesser virtues, the graces of life, the arts of pleasing, the "amiable attentions"-as we will surely be solicitous to excel in those attentions, and to become amiable in proportion as we wish to be loved.