while fo much remained to be learned at home? I immured myfelf for four years, and studied the laws of the empire. The fame of my fkill reached the judges; I was found able to fpeak upon doubtful questions; and was commanded to ftand at the footstool of the calif. I was heard with attention; I was confulted with confidence; and the love of praise fastened on my heart.

"I still wished to see diftant countries; listened with rapture to the relations of travellers, and refolved fome time to ask my difmiffion, that I might feast my foul with novelty; but my prefence was always neceffary; and the Stream of bufinefs hurried me along. Sometimes I was afraid left I fhould be charged with ingratitude; but I still propofed to travel, and therefore would not confine myself by marriage.

"In my fiftieth year, I began to fufpect that the time of travelling was paft; and thought it beft to lay hold on the felecity yet in my power, and indulge myself in domestic pleafures. But at fifty no man eafily finds a woman beautiful as the Houries and wife as Zobiede. I inquired and rejected, confulted and deliberated, till the fixty-fecond year made me alhamed of wishing to marry. I had now nothing left but retirement; and for retirement I never found a time, till disease forced me from public employ

ment.

"Such was my fcheme,and such has been its confequence. With an infatiable thirst for knowledge, I trifled away the years of improvement; with a reflefs defire of feeing different countries, I have always refided in the fame city; with the highest expectation of connubial felicity, I have lived unmarried; and with unalterable resolutions of contemplative retirement, I am going to die within the walls of Bagdat."

SECTION XI.

DR. JOHNSON.

The Pleafures of virtuous Senfibility.

THE good effects of true fenfibilty on general virtue and happiness admit of no difpute. Let us confider its effect on the happiness of him who poffeffes it, and the various pleasures to which it gives him accefs. If he is matter of riches or influence, it affords him the means of increafing his own enjoyment, by relieving the wants, or increafing the comforts of others. If he commands not these advan tages, yet all the comforts, which he fees in the poffeffion of the deferving, become in some fort his, by his rejoicing in

the good which they enjoy. Even the face of nature yields a fatisfaction to him, which the infenfible can never know. The profution of goodness, which he beholds poured forth on the universe, dilates his heart with the thought, that innumerable multitudes around him are bleft and happy. When he fees the labours of men appearing to profper, and views a country flourishing in wealth and induftry; when he beholds the fpring coming forth in its beauty, and reviv ing the decayed face of nature; or in autumn beholds the fields loaded with plenty, and the year crowned with all its fruits; he lifts his affections with gratitude to the great Father of all, and rejoices in the general felicity and joy.

It may indeed be objected, that the fame fenfibility lays open the heart to be pierced with many wounds, from the diftreffes which abound in the world; expofes us to frequent fuffering from the participation which it communicates of the forrows, as well as of the joys, of friendship. But let it be confidered, that the tender melancholy of fympathy is accompanied with a fenfation, which they who feel it would not exchange for the gratifications of the felfifh. When the heart is ftrongly moved by any of the kind affections, even when it pours itself forth in virtuous forrow, a fecret attractive charm mingles with the painful emotion; there is a joy in the midst of grief. Let it be farther confidered, that the griefs which fenfibility introduces are counterbalanced by pleasures which flow from the fame fource. Senfibility heightens in general the human powers, and is connected with acuteness in all our feelings. If it makes us more alive to fome painful fenfations, in return, it renders the pleafing ones more vivid and animated. The felfifh man languishes in his narrow circle of pleafures. They are con fined to what affects his own intereft. He is obliged to repeat the fame gratifications, till they bcome infipid. But the man of virtuous fenfibility moves in a wider fphere of felicity. His powers are much more frequently called forth into occupations of pleasing activity. Numberless occafions open to him of indulging his favourite tafte by conveying fatisfaction to others. Often it is in his power, in one way or other, to foothe the afflicted heart; to carry fome confolation into the house of woe. In the scenes of ordinary life, in the domestic and focial intercourses of men, the cordiality of his affections cheers and gladdens him. Every ap pearance, every defcription of innocent happiness, is enjoyed by him. Every native expreffion of kindness and affection

among others, is felt by him, even though he be not the object of it. In a circle of friends enjoying one another, he is as happy as the happieft. In a word, he lives in a different fort of world from what the selfish man inhabits. He poffeffes a new fenfe that enables him to behold objects, which the selfish cannot fee. At the fame time, his enjoyments are not of that kind which remain merely on the furface of the mind. They penetrate the heart. They enlarge and elevate, they refine and ennoble it. To all the pleafing emotions of affection, they add the dignified consciousness of virtue. Children of men! men formed by nature to live and to feel as brethren! how long will ye continue to eftrange yourselves from one another by competitions and jealoufies, when in cordial union ye might be fo much more bleft? How long will ye feek your happiness in felfifh gratifications alone, neglecting thofe purer and better fources of joy, which flow from the affections and the heart!

SECTION XII.

On the true Honour of Man.

BLAIR.

THE proper honour of man arifes not from fome of thofe fplendid actions and abilities, which excite high admiration. Courage and prowefs, military renown, fignal victories and conquefts, may render the name of a man famous, without rendering his character truly honourable. To many brave men, to many heroes renowned in ftory, we look up with wonder. Their exploits are recorded. Their praises are fung. They ftand as on an eminence above the rest of mankind. Their eminence, nevertheless, may not be of that fort, before which we bow with inward efteem and respect. Something more is wanted for that purpose, than the conquering arm, and the intrepid mind. The laurels of the warrior must at all times be dyed in blood, and bedewed with the tears of the widow and the orphan. But if they have been stained by rapine and inhumanity; if fordid avarice has marked his character; or low and gross fenfuality has degraded his life; the great hero finks into a little man. What at a distance, or on a superficial view, we admired, becomes mean, perhaps odious, when we examine it more clofely. It is like the coloffal ftatue, whofe immense fize ftruck the fpectator afar off with aftonishment; but when nearly viewed, it appears difproportioned, unfhapely,

and rude.

Obfervations of the fame kind may be applied to all the reputation derived from civil accomplishments; from the refined politics of the statesman, or the literary efforts of genius and erudition. These bestow, and within certain bounds, ought to bestow eminence and distinction on men. They discover talents which in themselves are fhining; and which become highly valuable, when employed in advancing the good of mankind. Hence they frequently give

rife to fame.

But a diftinction is to be made between fame and true honour. Theftatesman, the orator, or the poet, may be famous; while yet the man himself is far from being honoured. We envy his abilities. We wish to rivalthem. But we would not choose to be claffed with him who poffeffes them. Inftances of this fort are too often found in every record of ancient or modern history.

From all this it follows, that, in order to discern where man's true honour lies, we must look, not to any adventitious circumstance of fortune; not to any fingle sparkling quality; but to the whole of what forms a man; what entitles him, as fuch, to rank high among that class of beings to which he belongs; in a word, we must look to the mind and the foul. A mind fuperior to fear, to felfish, interest and corruption; a mind governed by the principles of uniform rectitude and integrity; the fame in profperity and adverfity; which no bribe can seduce, nor terror overawe; neither by pleasure melted into effeminacy, nor by diftress funk into dejection; fuch is the mind which forms the distinction and eminence of man. One, who in no fituation of life is either afhamed or afraid of difcharging his duty, and acting his proper part with firmness and conftancy; true to the God whom he worthips, and true to the faith in which he profeffes to believe; full of affection to his brethren of mankind; faithful to his friends, generous to his enemies, warm with compaffion to the unfortunate; felf-denying to little private interefts and pleasures, but zealous for public intereft and happiness; magnanimous, without being proud; humble, without being mean; juft, without being harsh; fimple in his manners, but manly in his feelings; on whofe words we can entirely rely; whofe countenance never deceives us; whofe profeffions of kindness are the effusions of his heart one, in fine, whom, independently of any views of advantage, we would choose for a fuperior, could truft in as a friend, and could love as a brother. This is the man, whom in our heart, above all others, we do, we must honour.

BLAIR,

"The race is

any line offe, leads unerringly to fuccefs. not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor riches to men of understanding." We may form our plans with the most profound fagacity, and the most vigilant caution may guard against dangers on every fide. But fome unforeseen occurrence comes acrofs, which baffles our wifdem, and lays our labours in the duft.

Were fuch difappointments confined to thofe who afpire at engroffing the higher departments of life, the misfortune would be lefs. The humiliation of the mighty, and the fall of ambition from its towering height, little concern the bulk of mankind. Thefe are objects on which, as on diftant meteors, they gaze from afar, without drawing perfonal inftruction from events fo much above them. But, alas! when we defcend into the regions of private life, we find difappointment and blafted hope equally prevalent there. Neither the moderation of our views, nor the juf tice of our pretenfions, can enfure fuccefs. But "time and chance happen to all." Against the stream of events, both the worthy and the undeferving are obliged to ftruggle ; and both are frequently overborne alike by the current.

Befides difappointment in purfuit, diffatisfaction in enjoyment is a farther vanity, to which the human flate is fubject. This is the fevereft of all mortifications, after having been fuccefsful in the purfuit, to be ba lied in the enjoyment itself. Yet this is found to be an evil still more general than the former. Some may be fo fortunate as to attain what they have pursued but none are rendered completely happy by what they have attained. Difappointed hope is mifery; and yet fuccefsful hope is only imperfe&t blifs. Look through all the ranks of mankind. Examine the condition of those who appear most profperous; and you will find that they are never just what they defire to be. I retired, they languifh for action; if bufy, they complain of fatigue. If in middle life, they are impatient for diftin&tion; if in high ftations, they figh after freedom and ease. Something is ftill wanting to that plenitude of fatisfaction, which they expected to acquire. Together with every wish that is gratified, a new demand. atifes. One void opens in the heart, as another is filled. On wishes, wishes grow; and to the end, it is rather the expectation of what they have not, than the enjoyment of what they have, which occupies and interests the most fuccessful.