have an interest in opposition to yours. Amongst those who are much older, or younger than yourself? Their feelings and pursuits will be widely different from yours. Are there not, then, some circumstances favourable, and others essential, to the formation of friendship ?" Undoubtedly there are," answered Demetrius. "May we not enumerate," continued Socrates, "< amongst the circumstances favourable to friendship, long acquaintance, common connections, similitude of age, and union of interest?" "I acknowledge," said Demetrius, "the powerful influence of these circumstances: but they may subsist, and yet others be wanting, that are essential to mutual amity." And what," said Socrates," are those es sentials which are wanting in Timon?" "He has forfeited my esteem and attachment," answered Demetrius. "And has he also forfeited the esteem and attachment of the rest of mankind?" continued Socrates. "Is he devoid of benevolence, generosity, gratitude, and other social affections ?" "Far be it from me," cried Demetrius, "to lay so heavy a charge upon him. His conduct to others, is, I believe, irreproachable; and it wounds me the more, that he should single me out as the object of his unkindness." Suppose you have a very valuable horse," resumed Socrates, "gentle under the treatment of others, but ungovernable, when you attempt to use him; would you not endeavour, by all means, to conciliate his affection, and to treat him in the way most likely to render him tractable?—Or, if you have a dog, highly prized for his fidelity, watchfulness, and care of your flocks, who is fond of your shepherds, and playful with them, and yet snarls whenever you come in his you attempt to cure him of his fault, by angry looks or words, or by any other marks of re'sentment? You would surely pursue an opposite course with him. And is not the friendship of a brother of far more worth, than the services of a horse, or the attachment of a dog? Why, then, do you delay to put in practice those means, which may reconcile 66 you to. Timon ?" Acquaint me with those means," answered Demetrius, "for I am a stranger to

way; would

ney

them." "Answer me a few questions," said Socrates. "If you desire, that one of your neighbours should invite you to his feast, when he offers a sacrifice, what course would you take?"-"I would first invite him to mine." "And how would you induce him to take the charge of your affairs, when you are on a jour?" "I should be forward to do the same good office to him, in his absence." "If you be solicitous to remove a prejudice, which he may have received against you, how would you then behave towards him?"" I should endeavour to convince him, by my looks, words, and actions, that such prejudice was ill-founded." "And if he appeared inclined to reconciliation, would you reproach him with the injustice he had done you ?"-" No," answered Demetrius; "I would repeat no grievances." Go," said Socrates, "and pursue that conduct towards your brother, which you would practise to a neighbour. His friendship is of inestimable worth; and nothing is more lovely in the sight of Heaven, than for brethren to dwell together in unity." Percival.

On the Abuse of Genius, with reference to the Works of Lord Byron.

I have endeavoured to show, that the intrinsic value of genius is a secondary consideration, compared with the use to which it is applied; that genius ought to be estimated chiefly by the character of the subject upon which it is employed, or of the cause which it advocates-considering it, in fact, as a mere instrument, a weapon, a sword, which may be used in a good cause, or in a bad one; may be wielded by a patriot, or a highwayman; may give protection to the dearest interests of society, or may threaten those interests with the irruption of pride, and profligacy, and folly of all the vices which compose the curse and degradation of our species. I am the more disposed to dwell a little upon this subject, because I am persuaded that it is not sufficiently attended tonay, that in ninety-nine instances out of a hundred, it is not attended to at all! That works of imagination

are perused, for the sake of the wit which they dis play; which wit not only reconciles us to, but endears to us, opinions, and feelings, and habits, at war with wisdom and morality-to say nothing of religion. In short, that we admire the polish, and the temper, and the shape of the sword, and the dexterity with which it is wielded, though it is the property of a lunatic, or of a bravo; though it is brandished in the face of wisdom and of virtue ; and, at every wheel, threatens to inflict a wound, that will disfigure some feature, or lop some member; or, with masterly adroitness, aims a death-thrust at the heart! I would deprive genius of the worship that is paid to it, for its own sake. Instead of allowing it to dictate to the world, I would have the world dictate to it-dictate to it, so far as the vital interests of society are affected. I know it is the opinion of many, that the moral of mere poetry is of little avail; that we are charmed by its melody and wit, and uninjured by its levity and profaneness; and hence, many a thing has been allowed in poetry, which would have been scouted, deprecated, reviled, had it appeared in prose: as if vice and folly were less pernicious, for being introduced to us with an elegant and insinuating address; or, as if the graceful folds and polished scales of a serpent, were an antidote against the venom of its sting.

There is not a more prolific scurce of human error, than that railing at the world, which obtrudes itself so frequently upon our attention, in the perusing of Lord Byron's poems-that sickness of disgust, which begins its indecent heavings, whensoever the idea of the species forces itself upon him. The species is not perfect; but it retains too much of the image of its Maker, preserves too many evidences of the modelling of the hand that fashioned it, is too near to the hovering providence of its disregarded, but still cherishing Author, to excuse, far less to call for, or justify, desertion, or disclaiming, or revilings, upon the part of any one of its members. I know not a more pitiable object, than the man, who, standing upon the pigmy eminence of his own self-importance, looks round upon the species, with an eye that never throws a beam of satisfaction

on the prospect, but visits with a scowl, whatsoever it lights upon. The world is not that reprobate world, that it should be cut off from the visitation of charity; that it should be represented, as having no alternative, but to inflict or bear. Life is not one continued scene of wrestling with our fellows. Mankind are not for ever grappling one another by the throat. There is such a thing as the grasp of friendship, as the outstretched hand of benevolence, as an interchange of good offices, as a mingling, a crowding, a straining together, for the relief, or the benefit of our species. The moral he thus inculcates, is one of the most baneful tendency. The principle of self-loveimplanted in us for the best, but capable of being perverted to the worst of purposes-by a fatal abuse, too often disposes us to indulge in this sweeping depreciation of the species, founded upon some fallacious idea of superior value in ourselves; with which imaginary excellence we conceive the world to be at war. A greater source of error cannot exist. We are at once deprived of the surest prop of virtue-distrust of our own pretensions, and compound, as it were, with our fellows, for an interchange of thwartings, and jostlings; or else withdrawing from all intercourse with them, commune with rocks, and trees, and rivers; fly from the moral region of sublimity and beauty, to the deaf, voiceless, sightless, heartless department of the merely physical one.

Harley's Death.

Anon.

There are some remembrances (said Harley) which rise involuntarily on my heart, and make me almost wish to live. I have been blessed with a few friends, who redeem my opinion of mankind. I recollect, with the tenderest emotion, the scenes of pleasure I have passed among them-but we shall meet again, my friend, never to be separated. There are some feelings which perhaps are too tender to be suffered by the world. The world, in general, is selfish, interested, and unthinking, and throws the imputation of romance, or melancholy, on every temper more sus

ceptible than its own. I cannot but think, in those regions which I contemplate, if there is any thing of mortality left about us, that these feelings will subsist :-they are called-perhaps they are-weaknesses, here; but there may be some better modifications of them in heaven, which may deserve the name of virtues." He sighed, as he spoke these last words. He had scarcely finished them, when the door opened, and his aunt appeared, leading in Miss Walton. My dear (says she) here is Miss Walton, who has been so kind as to come and inquire for you herself." I could perceive a transient glow upon his face. He rose from his seat.-" If to know Miss Walton's goodness (said he) be a title to deserve it, I have some claim." She begged him to resume his seat, and placed herself on the sofa beside him. I took my leave. His aunt accompanied me to the door. He was left with Miss Walton alone. She inquired anxiously after his health. "I believe (said he) from the accounts which my physicians unwillingly give me, that they have no great hopes of my recovery." She started, as he spoke; but, recollecting herself immediately, endeavoured to flatter him into a belief that his apprehensions were groundless. "I know (said he) that it is usual with persons at my time of life, to have these hopes which your kindness suggests; but I would not wish to be deceived. Το meet death as becomes a man, is a privilege bestowed on few: I would endeavour to make it mine :-nor do I think, that I can ever be better prepared for it than now:-'tis that chiefly which determines the fitness of its approach." "Those sentiments," answered Miss Walton," are just; but your good sense, Mr. Harley, will own, that life has its proper value. As the province of virtue, life is ennobled; as such, it is to be desired. To virtue has the Supreme Director of all things assigned rewards enough, even here, to fix its attachments."

The subject began to overpower her. Harley lifted up his eyes from the ground-" There are (said he, in a low voice)-there are attachments, Miss Walton." -His glance met hers-they both betrayed a confu