thank heaven with the same kind of gratitude that he ought to feel who experiences the comforts of being born in a delightful and temperate climate. My fellow-countrymen, I think, are many of them deficient in that airy pleasantness, and cheerful temper, that distinguishes this quality and as our climate, while it answers all the purposes of use and plenty, yet seldom affords us blue skies, or tempts us to cool grots and purling streams, to lie down on the damp grass, or to those other rural delights so often mentioned by the poets; so the English themselves, though overflowing with humanity and benevolence, suffer clouds of gloomy thoughts to come over their minds, and, however they must be allowed to be good-natured, are seldom remarkable for being good-humoured. Yet this half virtue is worth cultivation, as it bestows new charms on that real one. Good humour is the fair weather of the soul, that calms the turbulent gusts of passion, and diffuses a perpetual gladness and serenity over the heart; and he that finds his temper naturally inclined to break out into sudden bursts of fretfulness and ill humour, should be as much upon his. guard to repress the storm that is for ever beat-, ing in his mind, as to fence against the inclemencies of the season. We are naturally attach

t

ed even to animals that betray a softness of disposition. We are pleased with the awkward fondness and fidelity of a dog: Montaigne could discover agreeable music in the good-humoured purring of his cat: and though our modern grooms and jockies bestow all their attention on make, colour, eyes, and feet, yet the best writers on horsemanship consider a good temper as one of the best qualities in a horse.

We should be the more attentive to encourage and preserve this pleasing quality, because many people lose it by little and little in the progress of their lives. The thought of interest frequently proves a growing rust and canker in the mind; and the many troubles and embarrassments attending worldly pursuits, often sour the temper, and entirely destroy the spirit of cheerfulness and good humour that prevailed in the artless and undesigning season of our youth. I do not know a more disagreeable companion, than a man who, having set out in life with vast and vain hopes of advancement, together with a mighty consciousness of his own merit, has not been able to sustain the shock of disappointment, but has permitted his misfortunes to embitter his disposition. Such a man overflows with gall on every occasion, and discharges the spleen, that rises within him, on all his fellow

He disturbs the

creatures. He disturbs the peace of the family to which he belongs, and poisons the happiness of every company to which he is admitted. But the disquiet that he brings with him, wherever he comes, is nothing but an evidence of his own misery and weakness of soul. How much more is he to be imitated, who meets the strokes of fortune with an even temper, who suffers neither reproach nor distress to ruffle his good humour, and is, as Hamlet describes his friend, "As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing." Life is like a game at backgammon; and if an unlucky throw comes, we must make the best of it, and play on without grumbling at our ill luck; but who would venture to sit down to the table with a man who could not bear an adverse cast without turning over the board in a fury and throwing the dice-box at the head of his companion? The character of Sir Thomas More, though peculiarly illustrious for unshaken integrity, was in no instance more winning and amiable than in true pleasantry and good humour. His cheerful behaviour on the scaffold, and in every particular relative to his death, is familiar to all; but there is no circumstance in which the evenness of his mind is more truly delineated, than his behaviour to his family on his resignation of the chancellorship. The way

in which he discovered it to his wife bespoke the most genuine good humour. When he went out of church it was always usual for some of his officers to go to his lady and acquaint her of his departure: but the Sunday after his resig. nation, he went himself up to her pew, and, bowing, gravely said, "Madam, my lord is gone." She, who was accustomed to the facetiousness of his manner, did not immediately comprehend his meaning; but on his explaining the matter to her, as they went home, she began to upbraid him for his shameful inattention to his interest: upon which, without being at all disconcerted by this conjugal lecture, he took occasion to turn the discourse, by finding fault with some part of her dress.-This absolute command of temper, and pleasant vein, is surely to be envied; and he who sees the goods of fortune fall from him, not only without shaking his fortitude, but also without abating the gaiety of his heart, may fairly be said to possess an uncommon share of good humour.

Surly is a man of an easy fortune, humane and benevolent in his nature, and, as Dogberry says, "honest as the skin between his brows;" but he has contracted a kind of habitual peevishness, and every common occasion of life affords him

C 2

matter of offence.

The instant he rises in the

morning he is disquieted with the appearance of the weather, and pours forth execrations on the climate; and when he sits down to breakfast, the water is smoked, the butter rank, the bread heavy, the newspaper dull and insipid, and his servant sulky or impertinent: yet all the while he has no malice in his mind, and means no harm to any creature in the world. He has a thousand good qualities, which the quickness of his temper converts into petulance and ill humour. He is a great lover of wit, but cannot bear the least piece of pleasantry on himself; and the most innocent jest touches him to the quick. He will bestow twenty pounds in an act of charity, or do the kindest offices to serve an acquaintance in distress, and next moment quarrel with his friend for disturbing his reflections by humming an opera tune. Thus Surly lives, much esteemed, and little beloved; and though every body thinks well of him, there are very few that care to cultivate his acquain

tance.

But if the want of good humour is so conspicuous in a man, of how many charms does it deprive one of the other sex! softness is their distinguishing characteristic; but though, like