and acquirements, the mass of misery, corruption, and rankling at their base, has also continued progressively to be enlarged, until it may be truly said, that the foundations of society are laid in wretchedness, and that there is no addition made to the superstructure of luxury and of wealth, without a more than corresponding enlargement of the sphere of misery below.-Mudie. DCCCLXXIX. Origin of Government and Laws. The same self-love, in all becomes the cause DCCCLXXX. Pope's Essay on Man. Conscience is a dangerous thing; it makes a man a coward; a man cannot steal, but it checks him. It is a blustering shame-faced spirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one with obstacles; it beggars any man that keeps it; it is turned out of towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man that means to live well, VOL. II.-17 endeavours to trust to himself, and live without it.Shakspeare. DCCCLXXXI. Consciousness is the immediate knowledge which the mind has of its sensations and thoughts, and in general of all its present operations. We cannot properly be said to be conscious of our own existence; it being only suggested to us by those sensations and operations of which we are conscious.-Wollaston. DCCCLXXXII. A Wit.-A wit is a very unpopular denomination, as it carries terror along with it; and people in general are as much afraid of a live wit in company, as a woman of a gun which she thinks may go off of itself, and do her mischief. Their acquaintance is, however, worth seeking, and their company worth frequenting; but not exclusively of others, nor to such a degree as to be considered only as one of that particular set.-Chesterfield. DCCCLXXXI. Conversation.-The laws of conversation are, in genc. ral, not to labour over any subject, but to pass over easily, without effort or affectation, from one to another; to speak occasionally on frivolous as well as on serious subjects: to remember that conversation is a relaxation, and not a fencing school, nor a game of chess; in a word, to allow the fancy to range at freedom. You are not to engross the discourse to yourself, nor to deliver your opinions in a magisterial tone; as this must be very disgusting to the hearers, and prepossesses them against you. There can be no situation in which we are less able to conceal our self-love than in conversation; and we are always sure to lose by mortifying the pride of others, who will naturally be desirous of revenging themselves; and their ingenuity seldom fails instantly to discover an opportunity. Another defect to be shunned is, speaking like one reading, and having what is called a well-written conversation. A conversation ought no more to be like a written discourse, than the latter like a conversation. What is pretty singular is, those who fall into the former blemish, seldom escape the other; because being in the habit of speaking as they would write, they imagine they ought to write as they speak. It should be a rule, that a man cannot be too much on his guard when he writes to the public, and never too easy towards those with whom he converses.— D'Alembert. DCCCLXXXIV. Precept and Example.-Example works more cures than precept; for words without practice are but councils without effect. When we do as we say, it is a confirmation of the rule: but when our lives and doctrines do not agree, it looks as if the lesson were either too hard for us, or the advice not worth following. If a priest design to edify by his sermons, concerning the punishment of the other world, let him renounce his lust, pride, avarice, and contentiousness; for whoever would make another believe a danger, must first show that he is apprehensive of it himself. DCCCLXXXV. Industry.-There is no art or science that is too diffi cult for industry to attain to; it is the gift of tongues, and makes a man understood and valued in all countries, and by all nations; it is the philosopher's stone, that turns all metals, and even stones into gold, and suffers no want to break into its dwellings; it is the north-west passage, that brings the merchant's ships as soon to him as he can desire, in a word, it conquers all enemies, and makes fortune itself pay for contribution.-Clarendon. DCCCLXXXVI. Ennui, or the Wearisomeness of Inaction.-The ennui, or the wearisomeness of inaction, is a more general and powerful spring of action than is imagined. Of all pains this is the least; but nevertheless it is one. The desire of happiness makes us always consider the absence of pleasure as an evil. We would have the necessary intervals that separate the lively pleasures always connected with the gratification of our natural wants, filled up with some of those sensations that are always agreeable when they are not painful: we, therefore, constantly desire new impressions, in order to put us in mind every instant of our existence; because every one of these informations affords us pleasure. Thus the savage, as soon as he has satisfied his wants, runs to the banks of a river, where the rapid succession of the waves that drive each other forward make every moment new impressions upon him: for this reason, we prefer objects in motion to those at rest; and we proverbially say, that fire makes company; that is, it helps to deliver us from the wearisomeness of inaction. Men search with the greatest eagerness for every thing capable of putting them in motion; it is this desire that makes the common people run to an execution, and the people of fashion to a play; and it is the same motive in a gloomy devotion, and even in the austere exercises of penance, that frequently affords old women a remedy against the tiresomeness of inaction; for God, who by all possible means endeavours to bring sinners to himself, commonly uses with respect to them that of the wearisomeness of inaction. A man of literature had for his neighbour one of those indolent people who are the pest of society; who being tired of himself, went one day to pay a visit to the man of letters, who received him in a very agreeable manner, and with great politeness continued tired of him, till being weary of staying any longer in the same place, the idler took his leave, in order to plague somebody else. He was no sooner gone, than the man of learning returned to his studies and forgot his vexation. Some days after he was accused of not having returned the visit he had received, and taxed with want of politeness; upon which he, in his turn, went to see the idler: "Sir," said he, "I am informed that you complain of me: however, you know that it was being weary of yourself that brought you to me. I, who tired nobody, received you as well as I could; it is then you who are obliged, and I who am taxed with unpoliteness. Be yourself the judge of my proceedings, and see whether you ought not to put an end to complaints that prove nothing, but that I have not, like you, occasion for visits; and have neither the inhumanity to plague my neighbour, nor the injustice to defame him after I have tired out his patience."—Helvetius. DCCCLXXXVII. Digressions in a book are like foreign troops in a state, which argue the nation to want a heart and hands of its |