more than ordinary kindness, to amuse him a little; and then, in the midst of the flattering calm, to burst upon him like an earthquake, and overwhelm him with the sense of his own baseness. This being resolved upon, my wife undertook to manage the business herself, as she really had

some talents for such an undertaking. We saw him approach he entered, drew a chair, and sat down. "A fine day, Mr. Burchell."-"A very fine day, doctor; though I fancy we shall have some rain, by the shooting of my corns."—"The shooting of your horns," cried my wife, in a loud fit of laughter, and then asked pardon for being so fond of a joke. "Dear madam," replied he, "I pardon you with all my heart; for I protest I should not have thought it a joke, had you not told me."-"Perhaps not, sir," cried my wife, winking at us; "and yet I dare say you can tell us how many jokes go to an ounce." fancy, madam," returned Mr. Burchell, "you have been reading a jest-book this morning, that ounce of jokes is so very good a conceit: and yet, madam, I had rather see half an ounce of understanding."-"I believe you might," cried my wife, still smiling at us, though the laugh was against her. "And yet I have seen some men pretend to understanding, that have very little."-"And no doubt," replied her antagonist, "you have known ladies set up for

"I

وو

wits that had none.' I quickly began to find, that my wife was likely to gain but little at this business; so I resolved to treat him in a style of more severity myself. "Both wit and understanding," cried I," are trifles without integrity; it is that which gives value to every character; the ignorant peasant, without fault, is greater than the philosopher with many; for what is genius or courage without a heart?

"An honest man 's the noblest work of God."

"I always held that hackneyed maxim of Pope," returned Mr. Burchell," as very unworthy a man of genius, and a base desertion of his own superiority. As the reputation of books is raised, not by their freedom from defect, but the greatness of their beauties; so should that of men be prized, not from their exemption from fault, but the size of those virtues they are possessed of. The scholar may want prudence, the statesman may have pride, and the champion ferocity; but shall we prefer to these the low mechanic, who laboriously plods on through life without censure or applause? We might as well prefer the tame correct paintings of the Flemish school, to the erroneous, but sublime animations of the Roman pencil."

"Sir," replied I, "your present observation is just, when there are shining virtues and minute defects; but when it appears that great vices are opposed in the same mind to as extraordinary virtues, such a character deserves contempt."

66 "Perhaps," ," cried he, "there may be some such monsters as you describe, of great vices joined to great virtues; yet, in my progress through life, I never yet found one instance of their existence. On the contrary, I have ever perceived, that where the mind was capacious, the affec

tions were good. And, indeed, Providence seems kindly our friend in this particular, thus to debilitate the understanding where the heart is corrupt, and diminish the power where there is the will to do mischief. This rule seems to extend even to other animals. The little vermin race are ever treacherous, cruel, and cowardly; while those endowed with strength and power are generous, brave, and gentle."

"These observations sound well," returned I," and yet it would be easy this moment to point out a man," and I fixed my eye steadfastly upon him, "whose head and heart form a most detestable contrast. Ay, sir," continued I, raising my voice," and I am glad to have this opportunity of detecting him in the midst of his fancied security. Do

"that

you know this, sir, this pocket-book?" "Yes, sir," returned he, with a face of impenetrable assurance; pocket-book is mine, and I am glad you have found it."— "And do you know," cried I, "this letter? Nay, never falter, man, but look me full in the face; I say, do you know this letter?"-"That letter," replied he, "yes; it was I that wrote that letter." "And how could you," said I, "so basely, so ungratefully, presume to write this letter?" "And how came you," replied he, with looks of unparalleled effrontery, "so basely to presume to break

open this letter? Don't you know, now, I could hang you all for this? All that I have to do is, to swear at the next justice's that you have been guilty of breaking open the lock of my pocket-book, and so hang you all up at this door." This piece of unexpected insolence raised me to such a pitch that I could scarce govern my passion. "Ungrateful wretch! begone, and no longer pollute my dwelling with thy baseness. Begone! and never let me see thee again. Go from my door; and the only punishment I wish thee is an alarmed conscience, which will be a sufficient tormenter!" So saying, I threw him his pocket-book, which he took up with a smile, and shutting the clasps, with the utmost composure, left us quite astonished at the serenity of his assurance. My wife was particularly enraged that nothing could make him angry, or make him seem ashamed of his villanies. "My dear," cried I, willing to calm those passions that had been raised too high among us, we are not to be surprised that bad men want shame. They only blush at being detected in doing good, but glory in their vices.

66

"Guilt and Shame (says the allegory) were at first companions, and in the beginning of their journey inseparably kept together; but their union was soon found to be disagreeable and inconvenient to both.

frequent uneasiness, and Shame often

Guilt gave Shame

betrayed the secret

conspiracies of Guilt. After long disagreement, therefore, they at length consented to part for ever. Guilt boldly walked forward alone, to overtake Fate, that went before in the shape of an executioner; but Shame, being naturally timorous, returned back to keep company with Virtue, which in the beginning of their journey they had left behind. Thus, my children, after men have travelled througn a few stages in vice, Shame forsakes them, and returns back to wait upon the few virtues they have still remaining."

CHAPTER XVI.

The family use art, which is opposed by still greater.

WHATEVER might have been Sophia's sensations, the rest of the family were easily consoled for Mr. Burchell's absence by the company of our landlord, whose visits now became more frequent and longer. Though he had been disappointed in procuring my daughters the amusements of the town, as he designed, he took every opportunity of supplying them with those little recreations which our retirement would admit of. He usually came in the morning, and while my son and I followed our occupations abroad, he sat with the family at home, and amused them by describing the town, with every part of which he was particularly acquainted. He could repeat all the observations that were retailed in the atmosphere of the play-houses, and had all the good things of the high wits by rote, long before they made their way into the jest-books. The intervals between conversation were employed in teaching my daughters picquet; or, sometimes, in setting my two little