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except under the pilotage of ardent religion. Long was Coleridge the sport of the wayward winds of passion; but he found at last the quiet harbour. Doctor, can you remember his opium, when you read his letter to little Kinnaird?"

"When I call to mind," said Dr. Gauden, "the history of the Popes and Spensers of another day, and the Scotts and Southeys of our own, I must hesitate before I admit that genius always requires this special dispensation. If you would compare the moral tone of true genius with spurious,—of that poetical ability which springs from the soundness of the head, with that which is generated by the corruption of the heart,-contrast Lord Byron with Mr. Southey. Byron's enervating interest is like the fatal sweetness of the panther's breath and body; Southey's untainted vigour has the fragrance of the free mountain air of virtue: the one degrades and belittles the reader; the other exalts and strengthens him: the one is naturally inclined to believe the worst, which is the certain mark of a mean spirit and a wicked soul;' the other is generous with 'the princely heart of innocence.' Southey is of the royal lineage of ancient genius, and has the robust and warrior-blood of the old kings of wisdom with the lascivious pleasing of modern favourites,-the perfumed softness of these immortals of a season, he has no kindred. Most of us destine only that time of age to goodness, which our want of ability will not let us employ in evil' Southey has consecrated to virtue the best vigour of his manly days. With one or two ex

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ceptions, I confess that I rarely trouble myself to open any of these late volumes of elegant literature; and when I do, I usually find that no faculty is exercised except my memory. The remains of the old temples at Athens have served as the materials of all the structures that have been erected there during many centuries, and the quarry of Pentelicus has not been opened since Phidias and Praxiteles digged beauty from its bosom. The material condition is but an emblem of the intellectual; the moderns have never visited nature as their ancestors did, but have been contented to trans

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pose, to vary, and reset the gems which their bold predecessors seized from the treasury of her wealth. While I allow the moderns to dictate upon all subjects relating to the economy of life,-since, that matter being founded on experiment, the latest production is likely to be the best,- for all that adorns and charms existence,-for elegance in poetry, and purity and strength in prose composition, we must turn to the models of another time. The throne of science may be founded in cities, the resorts of manhood; but the shrine of the muses is in the valley of our childhood. Thither will we retire from the mechanical and busy hum of men,' to listen to those masters who instruct without clamour, and heal without stripes.' The fresh vapours that curled about the mountain-tops, melted in the morning of our existence into streams of crystal purity, with which the narrow and muddy rivulets that gurgle at midday, may not be compared. Life is not long enough for all knowledge, and while we linger among the moderns, we may be neglecting the wisdom of antiquity for ever. Non refert quam multos, sed quam bonos habeas libros; multitudo librorum onerat non instruit, et satius est paucis auctoribus te tradere, quam errare per multos. I am at least sure of meeting among the ancients, what will neither vitiate my principles, nor deprave my passions; but much that will better fit me for the duties of life, the only thing that is valuable in life. The sounding extravagances of Byron and his fellows, are to me but as music to a deaf man's ear; and I could wish," added the doctor, rising, "that on my tomb might be inscribed a sentiment, like that on Evelyn's; 'In an age of extraordinary events and revolutions, he learned that all is vanity which is not honest, and that there is no solid wisdom but in real piety.'

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CHAPTER XI.

"Fits of sprightly malice do but bribe
The languid mind into activity,

Sound sense, and love, itself, and mirth, and glee,
Are fostered by the comment and the gibe."

WORDSWORTH.

I HAD accepted an invitation to a dance at Mrs. It was late when I entered the rooms, and they were fully crowded by the thousand and one persons whom all manner of motives call together on such occasions. Mingling in the streams which flowed devious around the dancing parties like the water around the eyotts of the Bosphorus, I submitted to "roll darkling down the torrent of my fate," till the destinies of the voyage at length brought me to a corner where I effected a landing, and paused to make my observations. My meditations were interrupted by the gay voice of my old friend Seward.

"My good fellow, how d'ye do? I am glad in sooth that you are here, for the evening is so warm that I was about to melt, thaw and resolve into adieu! but I shall cool near you, for you are looking as frigid as the faith of Zeno."

"Your presence is to me," said I, "as manna in the desert. I am half a stranger here, and as you know every body by nature whether you have ever seen them or not, pray give me a catalogue raisonneé of this goodly companie."

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Any catalogue of the women," said Seward, looking deliberately around the room, "of the unmarried ones that is, would be a sale catalogue, I suspect, rather than a rational one. To begin, this is an article in front of us to which I would call the attention of purchasers; a volume in magnificent preservation, and lettered, but wholly free from gilt. Years of hours has passed over

her, like their index over the clock's face, recording changes, itself unchanged."

"Perhaps,” said I, "she has lived so long that she has passed from the influence of time, into the changeless regions of Eternity."

"One would be afraid to touch that woman," continued Seward, "lest she should crumble to dust at the contact. Were you to meet her in the vestibule of the British Museum, you would imagine that you had stumbled by mistake on the Egyptian room. Pettigrew would be in ecstasies with her. If she should happen to lose her title to life, which is generally a copyhold at the will of the Lord, she might continue to hold by prescription."

"Her memoirs would form an interesting volume."

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I am told that she is preparing her reminiscences of the court of Cleopatra. Next to her is a lady who should figure in Dr. Askew's catalogue; she squints like the queen in a pack of cards, and has a bitter pride of soul corresponding.

Full sixty years the world has been her trade;
No passion gratified, not e'en her hate.

She has thorough experience of life, and that experience has made her temper as stinging as coloquintida. It is the unpartaken privilege of the loftiest minds to know the world without being disgusted with it. Earth has seen but one man who could draw a Falstaff after having painted a Timon."

"What a contrast," said I, "to the bright scene which we now behold, would be exhibited, if we could have the inner bosom of this company laid before us!”

"Yes," replied Seward, "gay as these people seem, many a smiling face is but the mask of cheerless misery, or ferocious passion. Here is the mother's desperate game; the neglected wife's sad counterfeit of joy; the heart-sickness of the unnoticed well-born poor, and the embittered struggle of the low-born rich; the weary disappointment and renewed mortification of the fading beautywithering on the thorn;' and the anxious jealousy of the rivalled belle. It is a fortunate thing, my 13

VOL. I.

dear Pulteney, that Momus' plan of a windowed breast was not adopted. Every heart knoweth its own bitterness, and heaven bears witness that that knowledge sufficeth. Do you see that blushing rose-bud of forty ?" Yes, does she not paint?"

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"She is now only party-coloured; she is blue in the morning, and vermilioned at night. Though awkward and ugly she is a charming intellectual woman, being like a Corinthian column, chiefly ornamented at the top. If her mother had not been, like St. Paul, in labours most abundant, she would have formed a very desirable connexion; but as it is, instead of getting a handsome estate of entail, she will only get the beggarly tale of an estate."

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Society and the law," said I, "in this country, agree like a miser and his son; the sole object of the one being to collect, and of the other to dissipate."

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"The involuntary respect which the world pays to rich men," said Seward, "has always been to me a matter of marvel. We despise power when we are beyond its reach, and we hate the man of blood; but we pay studious homage to rich men who we know can never possibly benefit us; we crook the knee to wealth where no thrift can follow fawning.' Now there is a fat brute; the very Mount Blank of the human intellect; vulgar, low-born, and illiterate; yet he commands more deference and attention than any man in the room, 'or woman either;' and all through a successful voyage to the Indies. The cause of this passes my understanding."

"The reason," said I," is, that definite superiority is always more impressive than indefinite, though the latter be greater; hence blood is more respected than talent, and money more than blood."

"There is a cant," said Seward, "of believing that wealth is more potent in this country than in others; but that, like all popular talk, is false. Gold every

where is magical; there is not a government in the world which is not essentially a chrysocracy. Aladdin's lamp we may be sure was of silver."

"The reason of the mistake," said I," is, that in other

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