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No. XII.

MONDAY, MARCH 4, 1816.

O Sensibility, great sensorium of the world, which vibrates, if a hair of our heads but falls on the ground, to the remotest desert of thy creation.

STERNE.

IN a former paper I have mentioned Indecision as the parent of numberless vices, although in our world rarely considered as a serious evil; and thus too the source of much real misery, is scarcely known by name at Westminster; I mean Excess of Sensibility. I am led to remark this by being intimate with one who is frequently subject to this malady, without being able to give any name to the cause of his sufferings.

There is no boy in the school that has

naturally a more contented and cheerful temper than Honorius; his abilities too are very considerable, and his frank and generous disposition makes him a general favourite; yet Honorius is far from happy, -for his feelings are so exquisitely fine, that every shaft of ridicule and malice, however ill directed, is sure to wound them to the quick. Nor is this all-he sees ridicule where none is intended, he mistakes the smile of good-nature for the sneer of contempt, and the condolence of friendship for the spiteful triumph of illnature. I have known him made uncomfortable for a whole evening by a wink of the eye or a whisper, which he obstinately took for granted could have no other subject but himself. Once I remember he was miserable for a day or two, because a good-for-nothing fellow, who is notorious for the delight he takes in giving pain to the feelings of his companions, told him he had overheard a conversation in which his character was made free with:-and

again, when I represented to him the real state of the case, (for on my remarking his melancholy, he frankly told me the whole story) he was just as wretched under the apprehension that I must despise his weakness of mind.

But there is a particular subject on which the excessive sensibility of Honorius is truly distressing to himself and his friends. About three years ago, his mother, whom he tenderly loved, was killed by the overset of a carriage. Ever since that melancholy event, whenever unruly horses, overturns of carriages, nay indeed any fatal accidents become the subject of conversation, or are even distantly alluded to, poor Honorius suffers unspeakable anguish. I, who am well acquainted with his temper, know very well, that on these occasions he is not only made wretched by such a misfortune be-ing recalled to his recollection, but his delicacy is hurt and his feelings are deeply wounded by the idea that all the

rest of the company are thinking on the same subject:-overpowered by pain and confusion he dare not look up, lest he should meet every eye full of that pity and condolence which he dreads.

I am almost convinced that it was Honorius who sent me the following note some short time back:

SIR,

I perfectly feel and acknowledge the truth of the portrait you drew of me in your ninth number-The instant I had read it, I saw whom you meant-Yes, Sir, I know very well-I am Eumenesand to own the truth, it was very exactly drawn; for not only I, but almost every one who has read the paper, sees, I am convinced, that it is meant for me. I have watched many reading the paper and stealing glances at me from time to time. -Nay, the other morning, I am almost sure I heard some one, after looking at me and laughing, say to a friend of his

in a low voice, "Eumenes." But pray sir, if you have any compassion, do not pick out any of my particular vices as a subject for a future paper, and I will be Your constant reader,

and very humble Servant, YOU KNOW WHO.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

I have to beg pardon of my correspondents for the non-insertion of their letters on the Pancake ceremony-but on second thoughts, the subject, I am afraid, would be uninteresting to the generality of my readers.

I should have been glad to insert the well written letter of Studiosus, but I have already published a letter of Tyro on the same subject.

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