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CHARACTER OF MR. SHERIDAN.

MR. R. SHERIDAN having earned and acquired a character by his comic poetry, surpassing that of any writer since the time of Congreve, betook himself to the senate, to display a genius that had procured him such applause on the theatre. Penetrating acuteness of discernment, fertility of invention, variety, abundance, and brilliancy of wit, force and justness of humour, Sheridan possesses above most men. His powers he directs with great dexterity, so as to give them all possible effect. He is an elegant classical scholar, and has an exquisite taste. His mind, however, is not enriched by knowledge equal to its capacity: hence his eloquence, though manifesting great ingenuity in occasional observation, seldom contains a considerable quantity or variety of new information. That he can reason, well, appears often in the strength and shrewdness of his remarks and inferences; but his speeches cannot be said to have argumentation for a leading characteristic. His arguments are singly forcible, rather than collectively chained.

Sheridan displays a very thorough knowledge of human nature; not indeed so much of the anatomy of mind, as of its active powers, and the springs that set them in motion. His writings do not only exhibit manners and the surface of life; but character, sentiment, and passion; with their causes and their operation. Men of genius, in imitative performances, as they advance in experience, knowing Nature better, copy from her more closely. This has been the case with Sheridan in his first comedy: ingenious and able as it is, some of the principal characters either do not at all resemble any to be found in real life, or resemble thein very slightly; of the first sort is Acres, of the second is Lydia Languish. In the School for Scandal there is not a character of which originals are not to be daily found in real life. This progression from fancy to actual existence is, in imitative performances, analogous to that in philosophical researches from abstraction, to experience. The Rivals is the work of great genius, operating on somewhat scanty materials, collected partly only from observation, and therefore having recourse to fancy: the School for Scandal is the work of great genius, matured in the knowledge of that class of objects on which its exertions are employed, and taking real conduct for its archetype.

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FASHIONABLE MANNERS.

A MUCH greater part of mankind acts more rarely from original reflection and choice than from imitation: it is therefore of the highest importance, that the conduct of those should be innocent and virtuous, whose example is most likely to be imitated. We most naturally imitate those whom we admire, whether justly or unjustly. The example of several classes of the Great influences the pursuits and choice of many of those who aspire at a resemblance to any of the different kinds of greatness. Numbers of the votaries of literature would have formed and disseminated opinions on the authority of Hume, of Johnson, or of Burke. It was unfortunate to several inferior pursuers of learning, and their followers, that the authority and example of Hume induced them to admit very hurtful doctrines: fortunate to inferior pursuers of learning, that the example and authority of Johnson led them to form the justest notions concerning religion, virtue, and criticism; and that of Burke impressed them with the most salutary opinions on every branch of moral and political philosophy. Similar consequences may be deduced from the character of distinguished personages in the various departments of society. The principles, sentiments, actions, and modes of some one, to whom all look up, become current in the class to which he belongs. Nor is it in serious occupations only that the principle of imitation operates, or even that its operation is important. In diversions, in amusements, in the intercourse of fashionable society, its consequences are obvious. On some eminent personages does it generally depend what the character of public amusements and private parties is; whether, on the whole, the manners, first of polished society, and afterwards of the much more numerous classes of their imitators, be frivolous or rational, vicious or virtuous, hurtful or beneficial.

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Gaming, that lies in wait for the young, the inexperienced, the weak in judgment, the deficient in skill, and the maddened with wine; that pernicious vice that stifles every affection, that destroys every tie of blood, every obligation of gratitude; that abuses the confidence of a relation, a guardian, a friend, to defraud credulity; that uses the hospitality of a house as means of robbing its children; that violates every principle of moral duty; was long predominant in this country, and produced the most direful effects, in private profligacy and public corruption. Persons of very high rank, and persons of very high talents, taking the lead either in infatuation or in profiting by

the infatuation of others, rendered this vice most extensively and fatally prevalent. From the first predicament they generally proceeded to the second; from being dupes they became knaves. Persons of distinguished genius became partners in schemes for getting into their hands, the property of others, without compensation, and in banks, as repositories of the earnings of unjustifiable avarice; of most fraudulent artifice and wicked imposition, from rashness, ignorance, and folly, and from unsuspecting confidence. Persons of noble rank digested nefarious designs and schemes of deceit into a regular consistent plan, branching into many departments, and to be carried on by a variety of means; but all directed to one single end-plunder. Every object that could please the taste, charm the fancy, and gratify the senses, were made instruments for promoting the success of these FIRMS OF FRAUD. But the example of the HIGHEST IN RANK and HIGHEST IN TALENT, with the general good sense of the nation, prevented gaming to so destructive an extent from engrossing the most respectable parties in the polished circles. The proprietors of Faro-banks are now branded with the merited infamy. It would not be difficult to shew that much of the conjugal infidelity, as well as of the swindling and felonies of the present age, have arisen from gaming.

A very agreeable substitute for this destroyer of property and subverter of morals is now becoming frequent in the fashionable circles. The elegant and animating dance, that gives health, vigour, agility, and grace to the person; that inspires the eyes of beauty with a still more animated and animating expression; that suffuses beauty's cheeks with a brighter and more impressive tint; that exhibits symmety of figure, gracefulness of attitude, gesture, and motion, with such efficacy as to make their effects irresistibly engaging, now takes the place of gaming, which disfigured the most charming faces and countenances, which made them pale with fear, trembling with anxiety, swollen with rage, or deadened with despair. Such parties are peculiarly favourable to virtuous attachments, terminating in most respectable connections. They are also friendly to agreeable and social conversation; they tend to diffuse unmixed pleasure and happiness; whereas the consequence of gambling meetings is certain regret and probable ruin to many of the company.

The recent prevalence of parties of so very agreeable a species has been owing to no personage so much as to the DUTCHESS of GORDON, whose influence and example have stamped their fashionable character on parties so conducive to the purposes of social and elegant enjoyment, and the melioration of manners.

POETRY.

ADDRESS TO THE TOOTH ACHE:

BY THE LATE

ROBERT BURNS.

MY curse upon your venom'd stång,
That shoots my tortur'd gums alang ;
And thro' my lugs gi'es mony a twang,
Wi' gnawing vengeance;
Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang,

Like racking engines!

When fevers burn, or ague freezes,
Rheumatics gnaw, or cholic squeezes,
Our neighbour's sympathy does ease us
Wi' pitying moan;

But thee, thou Hell o' a' diseases,

Ay mocks our groan !

Ah! down my beard the slavers trickle!

I throw the wee stools o'er the mickle,

As round the fire the giglets

keckle,

To see me loup;

While, raving mad, I wish a heckle

Were in their doup!

O' a' the num'rous human dools,

Ill harvests, daft bargains, CUTTY STOOLS,
Or worthy friends rak'd i' the mools,

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O thou grim mischief-making Chiel,
That gars the notes o' DISCORD squeel,
'Till daft mankind aft dance a reel

In gore a shoe-thick;

Gie a' the foes o' SCOTLAND's weal

A towmond's tooth-ach.

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MARY.

LOOK, with what pure vermillion glows

The bud of yonder opening rose-
But hark! the patting rain!

See now the lately blooming flow'r,
Yielding to the oppressor's pow'r,
Ne'er lifts the head again.

So Mary liv'd, an artless maid,
With each endearing charm array'd;

Whose breast was Virtue's choice.
Her form not Envy's self could wrong,
Nor could lone Philomela's song
Surpass sweet Mary's voice.

One stormy night, a wand'ring youth,
Whose mien bespoke a seeming truth,
Claim'd shelter till the morn.
Paternal watchfulness he cheats,
He violated Virtue's sweets,

And Mary's bosom felt the thorn.
The hapless maid, unus'd to shame,
And losing happiness with fame,
Forsakes her native cot.

Oft has it been my lot to meet
Poor Mary pacing the cold street,
Neglected and forgot!

Oh! ye, with plenty, affluence blest,'
By friends protected and caress'd,

Incline a pitying ear!

Let me the trembling sigh excite,

Let sensibility invite

The sympathizing tear.

Hark! the wind blows, the house-top shakes,

And in white descending flakes

Comes down the driving snow.

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