love one as much as the other, that they love one another too, and love me as much as I love them, does multiply in friendship the most single and united of all things, and wherein, moreover, one alone is the hardest thing in the world to find."

What follows is abridged, with alterations, from Moir's Discourses:

: " Though sensibility, on the whole, affords full as much pleasure as pain, exceptions in particular cases are by no means uncommon. Warm hearts are always cautious in their preferences, and, for that reason, suffer most. Objects of real worth are not very frequent. We are often dazzled by the mere blaze of a tinselled outside; and though an artful impostor, like a glow-worm, allures and bewilders us at a distance, a nearer view undeceives us. The discovery will cost us a pang, but that pang may save us thousands: for, depend upon it, things are all ordered with so much wisdom, and so much benignity, that the heart never gets a probe-never bleeds-in vain. Indeed, the great and difficult art in this, as well as in most other things in life, is discrimination. Similarity in parts, in pursuits, in talents, in temper, in every thing, conciliates affection, and misleads us: but, assuredly, true friendship implies many sensations which vicious minds cannot feel, and a thousand sentiments which they do not possess; for it is a sacred union of souls, in which all the qualities of the head and the heart are aptly and equally blended. Here probity, and all the purest principles of action, are not only necessary, but a reciprocal conviction of them is essential to reciprocal trust. Happiness has no being when security is uncertain. To feel delight, in the highest sense, supposes absolute security and ease; and I cannot with safety put any thing in his power, in whom I could not cheerfully confide my all. How shall a bad man be a good friend. For he whose sense of duty is not sacred and universal, is liable to sport with the greatest as well as the least and they risk their lives, who lie at his mercy whose character is doubtful. Virtue and honour are the only things about human nature, on which there can be any solid and lasting dependence.

"Besides, in such a connection as this, a breach, whatever should be the consequences, must take place: and the human affections, like barbed arrows, can never be extracted or recalled, without the most insufferable anguish. The perfidy of an apparent friend is the last truth that strikes a feeling mind with conviction; and, when every thing conspires to realize it, with what weight does it fall on his aching heart!

His officious memory, by the strangest coincidence of felicities in the world, chases and hunts up that only, which, of all other things, he is the most solicitous to suppress. Under such a disappointment, who can tell what he suffers? He breathes vexation, looks distracted, and melancholy haunts, perhaps, and overwhelms him, while he lives. Prínciple is the foundation on which geperosity, which is the structure of Friendship, must rest. Principle without generosity, is bigotry; and generosity without principle, mere profusion. Were I to give a definition of Friendship, I would call it a tacit, but heartfelt junction of two congenial minds, in which they mutually and implicitly engage to sacrifice their interests and inclination to one another; to put up with every inconvenience, to encounter every hardship, which a cause deeply and dearly interesting to both may require; or, whatever talents a man may possess, if he has not generosity enough to master his passions, and relinquish self-love; you may take him for a companion if you will, but I pity you from my soul, if you make him a friend. The imperfections of friends are often too palpable to be overlooked, but never too gross to be forgiven; for our attachment ends the moment we harbour a grudge. Every man has foibles, which adhere as closely to his manners, as the shadow does to his body; and his taste must be wonderfully fastidious indeed, who cannot pardon in others what he feels so frequently in himself. I see a thousand things in my friend, and he in me, which we could both very well spare, but which, because not essentially connected with intellectual and moral worth, are beneath serious correction, and rather a subject of merriment than censure. Mutual happiness must be the ultimate end of all our attentions, assiduities, and anxieties. As our intercourse refers to interest as well as to sentiment, the least degree of reservation is criminal. We must now stop at nothing. Our correspondence extends to all we have, and equally involves our smallest and greatest concerns. We must have no cares, no sorrows, no sympathies, which are not common; for what can we dread from his knowledge, in whose bosom our very hearts are secure? Every spark of suspicion is injurious to the faith we owe him. In the most unpromising circumstances he is entitled to absolute credit; and nothing less than full demonstration can justify the least doubt to his disadvantage. People who deal much in secrecy and concealment, are seldom honest. Nothing, so like heaven as Friendship is, can have the least connection with shade. Candour is open as the face of day, and a heart without design is a stranger to disguise. But there may be principle and generosity too, where delicacy is wanting, than which, however, nothing is more essential to this

elegant and sublime connection. The mind often catches a certain temper and complexion from certain positions in which she is flung by education, constitution, or misfortunes. Then peevishness, petulance, and debility, are unavoidable. A look, a word, a gesture, or a tone of the voice, are then remarked, which in other circumstances she might not feel. We cannot regard him as a friend, whose inmost wishes and desires we are not careful to explore and supply. The least idea of inferiority would diminish the preference we give him; our closest intimacies must still retain a mixture of diffidence and respect: for the prices, at which we value one another, cannot be lowered in a single instance without danger. Gross familiarities beget disgust; and rudeness of every kind constantly instigates resentment. I can hear the pointless raillery of coxcombs with perfect indifference, and the dull insipid censures of low minds as though I heard them not; but the slight of a friend goes to the bottom of my soul, and the least appearance of a sneer from him sets my whole heart bleeding. The most frivolous improprieties may, at times, infringe the dignity of friendship. That divine sensibility which gives a lustre to all its parts, and sheds a softness over all its scenes, renders it so very tender to the touch, that the least shock at the extremities is also felt in the centre. It possesses, besides, a simplicity, of which the cunning have no conception; and a chasteness and purity to which the vulgar dare not aspire.

Without resolution, there is no truth, no dignity, no worth, in the human character. Some tempers are so exceedingly flexible and fluctuating, that within any given space of time, you are almost sure of finding them at every point of the compass. Individuals differ not more from one another, than they do from themselves at different times and in different situations. Their humours, tastes, attachments, and aver sions, like the fashions of the world, and the vicissitudes of nature, are in eternal rotation. Among the various objects around them, they choose and relinquish, like and dislike, at random. And would you confide in those, whom every knave may seduce to your ruin? How many fools can trample on the most hallowed sympathies of the heart, and sacrifice all the refinements of the most exalted nature to the mean indulgence of low-born humour! There is a restless solicitude in mankind to get acquainted with the most secret and intimate concerns of others. We should repel this busy inquisitive spirit, and whatever we do with our own affairs, maintain those of a friend inviolate. Let him always find us, if not in the same temper, at least in the same principles of untainted probity and uprightness, in

which he left us. The reprehensions of love, though sometimes necessary, are never ill to bear. We must both reject and withhold that unmanly adulation, which marks the intimacies of children and fools. Mean and vicious compliances are a tribute which true friendship never exacts. Indeed, whatever truckles to the trappings of exterior greatness, cringes to the tinselled trumpery of wealth, or bows to the gaudy plumage of fashion, is altogether incompatible with this endearing and dignified form.

"Thus an elegant and noble friendship has something in it too chaste and sanctified for those of impure and polluted sentiments, too sublime for the selfish, too refined for the low, too weighty for the weak. What a rare, what a valuable acquisition is HE, to whom, at all times, we may unbosom ourselves without reserve; who shares our sufferings, participates our joys, and, in all the vicissitudes of a vain and visionary life, mingles his feelings, affections, and tears, with ours! His heart is tender as the stem of the rising plant, and his feelings are habitually soft and salutary as the breath of heaven. He regards our infirmities with a pitying eye, and even looks on our crimes, though not without abhorrence, yet with reluctance and forgiveness. All his corrections are mingled with a tender severity, all his caresses with a prudent reserve. Whatever is great or virtuous in our characters, he regards not with the common cold approbation of others, but with a kind, self-interested concern, which he can seldom either stifle or conceal. Is he rich? dread not the approach of want, for his purse is as much yours as his heart; and the world can neither laugh him out of his generosity, nor chill him into churlishness. His knowledge brightens your understanding, his taste refines your affections, and his elegance polishes your manners. He neither loads you with compliment, nor tires you with ceremony; but his deeds are uniformly kind and benevolent. Having imbibed the true spirit of religion, he forms himself on its dictates, and makes it the governing principle of his life. As a master, he is meek and condescending-as a servant, diligent and faithful-as a relation, affectionate and bountiful-as a son, submissive and obliging -as a father, fond but not foolish; prudent but not parsimonious; neither so indulgent as to encourage petulance and impertinence, nor so severe as to create coolness and

aversion.

"Such is the man of experience and principle, whose friendship is a treasure more valuable than the Indies."

Moore, in his beautiful piece entitled "The Last Rose of Summer," bears ample testimony to the im

portance of love and friendship, as the powerful sweet

eners of human life :—

"Tis the last rose of summer,

Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone:
No flower of her kindred,
No rose-bud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh!

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,

To pine on the stem;

Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them!

Thus kindly I scatter

Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden

Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,

When friendships decay;
And from love's shining circle

The gems drop away

!

When true hearts lie wither'd,

And fond ones are flown;

Oh! who would inhabit

This bleak world alone?

The pleasures of Friendship extend to the regions beyond the grave; death only transplants them into a new scene, where they will be more pure and perfect. In that happy world we shall have nothing to fear from casual interruptions, the anguish of separation, the pang of absence, or the dart of death. There peace and joy inherit every breast; and the flame of love burns with an unfading lustre.

There pain and sickness never come;
There grief no more complains;
Health triumphs in immortal bloom,
And purest pleasure reigns.

There all the millions of the saints

Shall in one song unite;

And each the bliss of all shall share
With infinite delight.