tion in hazard; the ignorant always imagine themselves giving some proof of delicacy, when they refuse to be pleased; and he that finds his way to reputation through all these obstructions, must acknowledge that he is indebted to other causes besides his industry, his learning, or his wit."(-No. 2)*

What a solemn interdiction is this of all literary enterprize, and how pompously are probable miscarriages enumerated. Here, the juvenile mind would feel persuaded, that to cultivate intellect, is to incur all the miseries of want, dependance, and neglect. Does this arise from his own early failures in the career of literature? How unfit is such a moralist to form the early thought, or teach the road that leads to fame and happiness!

The

*It is a remarkable fact that this author was for ever anxious to dissuade the rising generation from cultivating knowledge. To repress this noble ardor and resplendent ambition, he sought for every argument that could be drawn from the wretchedness of life. He admitted no medium, nor would he allow any variation. He who commenced author must positively endure all that can embitter our existence, and make us execrate the society in which we exist. To expose the glaring fallacy of such reasoning, would be too gross an insult to the understanding of my readers.

The miseries of learning again come under his consideration, (No. 16.) and he draws with gloomy colours, the wretchedness of literary eminence, as exemplified in the history of Misellus. Dr. Johnson delighted to revel in the evils of existence, and to pourtray with all the energy of language and force of sentiment as inevitable, the uncertain anxieties and troubles to which we are obnoxious. Melancholy reflections from early indulgence had become habitual, and he beheld every enterprize and pursuit of life, through the mist of tears and remorse. This, though it gives an awful dignity to his writings, renders them less faithful delineations. What he had himself felt, he considered as unavoidable; and his prejudices would not suffer him to discard an opinion he had once assimilated to his mind.

The following quotation may be introduced without any comment; simply observing, that it is somewhat too definitive, as, indeed, many other of Dr. Johnson's positions are:

"The cure for the greatest part of human miseries is not radical but palliative.

liative. Infelicity is involved in corporeal nature, and interwoven with our being; all attempts, therefore, to decline it wholly are useless and vain: the armies of pain send their arrows against us on every side; the choice is only between those which are more or less sharp, or tinged with poison of greater or less malignity; and the strongest armour which reason can supply will only blunt their points, but cannot repel them."-(No. 32.)

To delight in exhibiting scenes of infelicity is a solitary and unenviable gratification. To labour to persuade mankind that all those by whom they are surrounded are actuated by avarice and sensuality; that they only wait the happy moment to ruin and overwhelm with infamy; that they caress and proffer only to deceive; and that they are slaves to the most venal passions, and incapable of any generous sentiment or atachment, is surely as reprehensible as the man who would falsely persuade you that your dearest friend wears a dagger for your destruction. All truth is valuable; and all moral truth inestimably so. Wit, genius,

and

and learning, if employed on the side of falsehood, are to be regarded as weapons turned against the bosom and interest of human nature. General conclusions are at all times liable to error; but when drawn from human actions, passions, or events, must inevitably be false. Even in the attainment of one peculiar object, every man will, perhaps, employ different means; and where such dissension exists, who can assure themselves that events

will be uniform ?

Dr. Johnson has laboured to demonstrate in the history of Almamoulin, the son of Nouradin, that riches are incapable of affording to their possessor any other gratifications than those of the mind. If they are employed to purchase magnificent buildings; to procure varieties of food or amusements; to open prospects, or to roll rivers through new channels, they produce only satiety and listlessness, and disgust: If they attract friends, or are dispensed so as to command gratitude, they find only fraud and deceit. In short, if they are applied to any other purpose than that of solely relieving

relieving the distressed, protecting the fatherless, clothing the naked, and sheltering the defenceless widow, they only retort upon their possessor the bitterness of contempt, and the anguish of remorse.

Almamoulin is young and wealthy. His father's death makes him master of immense possessions. He showers down silver on the populace. Nobles, sages, and heroes, are combined against him, and he appeases them with gold, gems, and supplication. He solicits princesses in marriage, but trembles in the presence of one who vouchsafes him an audience. He contracts his pleasures, but is soon invaded by languor and weariness; all novelties are soon exhausted, and he finds his heart vacant. He then determines to open his doors to all the votaries of idleness and pleasure. His house rings with merriment, and festivity and revelry mark the beginning and conclusion of each day. In the fulness of his heart, he exclaims-" I have at last found the use of riches; I am surrounded by companions, who view my greatness without envy; and I enjoy at once the raptures

of