prefer a very considerable share of ignorance, to pedantry. It costs me a less effort to accomodate my conversation to a person of the most rude and uncultivated mind, than it does to accommodate my feeling to one, who, without any compassion for me, is constantly pouring into my ears a string of scientific discoveries, and classical allusions.

Make it a rule never to use an expression which will be unintelligible to the persons with whom you converse; and never to step out of your way, for the sake of making a remark, which shall discover your learning. The least effort of this kind, is always discovered; and the loss to your character, in point of discretion, will be greater than the gain, with respect to intelligence. One great secret in avoiding the imputation of pedantry, lies in the manner. A remark made with an easy and careless air, might leave no unfavourable impression; while the same observation, repeated with a look of self-complacence and self-confidence, might procure for you the reputation of an accomplished pedant.

But the evil, against which you ought, perhaps, to be more vigilant than any other, which relates to your conversation, is a disposition to sarcasm and satire. This is the more serious, because its consequences are not confined to yourself; and by the same act, you may injure your own reputation, and wound the sensibility or character of another. There is, perhaps, no talent, which is more liable to abuse than this: it creates a strong temptation to appear witty and brilliant, and sometimes even at the expense of friends.

But, you may rely upon it, that the indulgence of this propensity, while it involves the grossest injustice to the person who is the object of your sarcasm, will always be regarded by others as indicating an unhappy flaw in your character. The very persons who seem to applaud your wit, by laughing at it, will express their disapprobation to others, and will have the less confidence in your friendship for it will be no unreasonable conclusion, that the same sportive artillery, which they see employed with so much effect upon the characters of others, may, in different circumstances, be levelled against their own.

I advise you, therefore, if you find you have a talent for sarcasm, to keep it under the most active restraint.

The reputation which you will gain, by frequently exhibiting it, will come at a dearer price than you can afford to pay. It will be no less expense than an abatement of the esteem of your friends, a dread of being in your company, and a needless multiplication of enemies.

You cannot be too cautious how you treat characters, especially when you are thrown into the company of strangers. Many persons have subjected themselves to severe mortification, by an improper freedom of this kind, and have discovered, when it was too late to correct their errour, that those who were the subjects of their remarks, were listening to them. Never express an unfavourable opinion of any individual, unless you have good evidence that the opinion is well founded, and that no improper use can be made of it. By a single indiscreet remark, you may do an injury to a character, which it will never be in your power to retrieve. As you value your own reputation, therefore, treat with lenity the characters of others.

LESSON XXX.

Conversation.-COWPER.

A STORY, in which native humour reigns,
Is often useful, always entertains:
A graver fact, enlisted on your side,
May furnish illustration, well applied;
But sedentary weavers of long tales
Give me the fidgets, and my patience fails.
'Tis the most asinine employ on earth,
To hear them tell of parentage and birth,
And echo conversations, dull and dry,
Embellish'd with-He said, and So said I.
At ev'ry interview their route the same,
The repetition makes attention lame :
We bustle up with unsuccessful speed,
And in the saddest part cry-Droll indeed!
The path of narrative with care pursue,
Still making probability your clue :
On all the vestiges of truth attend,

And let them guide you to a decent end.
Of all ambitions man may entertain,
The worst, that can invade a sickly brain,
Is that, which angles hourly for surprise,
And baits its hook with prodigies and lies.
Credulous infancy, or age as weak,
Are fittest auditors for such to seek,
Who to please others will themselves disgrace,
Yet please not, but affront you to your face.
A great retailer of this curious ware
Having unloaded and made many stare,
Can this be true?—an arch observer cries,
Yes, (rather mov'd) I saw it with these eyes;
Sir! I believe it on that ground alone;
I could not, had I seen it with my own.

A tale should be judicious, clear, succinct;
The language plain, and incidents well link'd;
Tell not as new what ev'ry body knows,
And, new or old, still hasten to a close;
There, cent'ring in a focus round and neat,
Let all your rays of information meet.
What neither yields us profit nor delight
Is like a nurse's lullaby at night;
Guy, Earl of Warwick and fair Eleanor,
Or giant-killing Jack, would please me more.

LESSON XXXI.

God Omnipresent.-JAMES EDMESTON.

WHERE can I go from thee,

All present Deity!

Nature, and time, and thought thine impress bear; Through earth, or sea, or sky,

Though far afar I fly,

I turn and find thee present with me there.

The perfume of the rose,
And every flower that blows,

All mark thy love, in clusters of the vale;
The corn that crowns the fields,

The fruits the garden yields,

Proclaim the bounties that can never fail.

The vapour, and the cloud,
The thunder bursting loud,
Speak of thy majesty in words of flame;
The ocean as it roars,

Lashing the rocks and shores,
Declares from what a mighty hand it came.

The vasty globes that roll,
Each on its own firm pole,
Through all the boundless fields of space alone,
Prove that indeed thou art

The life wheel, and the heart
Of systems to our little world unknown.

From thee I cannot fly;
Thine all observing eye,

Marks the minutest atom of thy reign;
How far soe'er I go,

Thou all my path wouldst know,

And bring the wanderer to this earth again.

But why should I depart?
'Tis safety where thou art;
And could one spot thy being hold,
I, poor, and vain, and weak,
That sacred spot would seek,
And dwell within the shelter of thy fold.

LESSON XXXII.

Earthly Fame.-POLLOK.

Or all the phantoms fleeting in the mist Of time, though meagre all, and ghostly thin, Most unsubstantial, unessential shade, Was earthly Fame. She was a voice alone, And dwelt upon the noisy tongues of men. She never thought; but gabbled ever on;

Applauding most what least deserved applause :
The motive, the result was nought to her:
The deed alone, though dyed in human gore,
And steeped in widow's tears, if it stood out,
The prominent display, she talked of much,
And roared around it with a thousand tongues.
As changed the wind her organ, so she changed
Perpetually; and whom she praised to-day,
Vexing his ear with acclamations loud,
To-morrow blamed, and hissed him out of sight.
Such was her nature, and her practice such :
But, O! her voice was sweet to mortal ears;
And touched so pleasantly the strings of pride
And vanity, which in the heart of man
Were ever strung harmonious to her note,
That many thought, to live without her song
Was rather death than life: to live unknown,
Unnoticed, unrenowned! to die unpraised!
Unepitaphed! to go down to the pit,

And moulder into dust among vile worms!
And leave no whispering of a name on earth!

Such thought was cold about the heart, and chilled
The blood. Who could endure it? who could choose,
Without a struggle, to be swept away

From all remembrance? and have part no more
With living men? Philosophy failed here;
And self-approving pride. Hence it became
The aim of most, and main pursuit, to win
A name to leave some vestige as they passed,
That following ages might discern they once
Had been on earth, and acted something there.

Many the roads they took, the plans they tried:
But all in vain. Who grasped at earthly fame,
Grasped wind: nay worse, a serpent grasped, that thro'
His hand slid smoothly, and was gone; but left
A sting behind which wrought him endless pain;
For oft her voice was old Abaddon's lure,
By which he charmed the foolish soul to death.