twenty or thirty years. Afterwards, in the course of a walk with this same clergyman, I had an opportunity of seeing somewhat of the state and culture of Mr. Wilfull's estate. The barn-yards were but thinly stored, and the farm-houses but in indifferent repair. Several of the farms were in a state of open uncultivated wildness, with here a patch of broom, there a corner of furze, and now and then a ridge or two of rushes and thistles. A' person of a sportive imagination might have traced an analogy between Mr. Wilfull's principles and the state of his grounds: Xerxes chained the Hellespont because he was accustomed to govern slaves: Mr. Wilfull, one might say, left the very soil at liberty, and neither constrained it by culture, nor fettered it by inclosures.

This state of his private property, however, my companion partly accounted for from Mr. Wilfull's attention having been for some time much occupied by some public and national concerns, in which his love of liberty had involved him. There was a little town in the neighbourhood of his estate, in which it' seems he had, from patriotic motives, projected a thorough reformation. It was at present, according to the parson's account, in the hands of about a dozen people, who Mr. Wilfull complained, had the entire disposal of it. He wished its government to be in the people at large; by which, however, the clergyman frankly confessed his patron meant, if possible, to get the management of it to himself.Meantime he had taught the inhabitants, every soul of them, proper ideas of freedom and independence; in cultivating these indeed they had lost some others, which people who don't know the value of liberty might reckon as useful. There were formerly one or two thriving manufactures in the town; but they had of late been driven out of it as hostile to its free

now carried on there? Oh! now, Sir,' said he, 'they are all busy in making-reforms.'

In short, Mr. Louuger, (for I am afraid of tiring you with my recital,) I found from this day's infor mation, as well as my own experience during another which I spent at Mr. Wilfull's, that this gentleman is so very fond of liberty, that he is inclined to monopolize it entirely to himself. Not caring either to suffer in silence or to quarrel with my kinsman by asserting my freedom, I contrived some apology for putting an end to my visit on the morning of the fourth day; and I confess was very happy to leave this champion for independence, to return to the government of an elderly aunt, who keeps house for me; who, though of old-fashioned Tory principles,. is yet very fond of her nephew, very indulgent to the servants, and very hospitable to the neighbours ; and who, though she does not trouble herself about the good of her country, feeds the best fowls, makes the best mince-pies, and brews the best ale in the world. I am, &c.

Z

LIBERCULUS,

N° 66. SATURDAY, MAY 6, 1786.

SIR,

To the AUTHOR of the LOUNGER.

No complaints are more commonly made, or more readily listened to, than those of genius neglected, of talents unrewarded, of merit overlooked.

That

these complaints should often be made on slight pretences, may easily be accounted for from the effects of self-love and of conceit; and that people should attend to them with indulgence will not be wondered at, when we reflect that we are naturally inclined to favour those whose circumstances do not awaken our envy, especially if they furnish us with the means of decrying others whose situation excites it.

But even where genius is actually found to languish in obscurity, or to pine in indigence, the world is not always to be blamed for its neglect. Genius is often too proud to ask favours which the world is too proud to offer; or too bashful to display abilities which others are too busy to seek out. Besides that the splendid qualities of which it boasts are of ten less fitted for the province it has chosen than much more moderate abilities, it sometimes allows them to be mixed with failings, which render their possessor less easily made happy, and those around him less disposed to contribute to his happiness. Temper, moderation, and humility, a toleration of folly, and an attention to trifles, are, endowments necessary in the commerce with mankind; often as useful, and generally more attractive, than wisdom, learning, eloquence, or wit, when attended with ar rogance, ill-nature, an ungracious manner, or a forbidding address.

It will likewise be considered, that, in general, those inferior minds, whom genius and talents are apt to despise, are much more easily made happy than those who occupy the rank above them. The measure of our desires is commonly enlarged in proportion to the comprehensiveness of our minds, and the catalogue of our evils frequently increased in proportion to the range of our imaginations. In many occurrences of life, genius and fancy discover evils

licacy of feeling mars that pleasure which thoughtless vivacity would perfectly enjoy.

You gave, in one of your earlier papers, an account of two gentlemen, both fortunate in life, but very differently affected by their good fortune: one who was above the enjoyment of any ordinary good; the other, on whom every attainment conferred happiness, who had no eye for deformity, and no feeling for uneasiness. Allow me to illustrate the same power of a constitutional difference of temper upon the opposite situation, from the example of two persons, whose characters some late incidents gave me a particular opportunity of tracing.

Tom Sanguine and Ned Prospect, like your friends Clitander and Eudocius, were school-fellows. Sanguine was the first boy in the school in point of learning, and very often its leader in every thing. The latter distinction it cost him many a black eye to maintain, as he generally had a battle with every lad who disputed his pre-eminence, or who objected to any project he had laid down for his companions. Sometimes he was thrown entirely out of his command, and would be whole days in a state of proscription from his fellows, attended only by one or two little boys, whom he either awed or bribed to continue of his party.

Prospect had a certain influence too, but it was acquired by different means. He had no pretensions to learning, and almost constantly neglected or failed in the tasks that were set him-yet he was a favourite with his masters, from a certain liveliness which looked like genius, and a certain attention to them which looked like application; and with the boys he was always ready to join any plan which the forward could devise or the bold could execute. He was in friendship with every one, and did not care with whom he was in friendship; of jealousy or rivalship

he was perfectly devoid, and often returned the as" sistance which Sanguine afforded him at their exercises, by conciliatory endeavours to accommodate differences between him and some of their companions. As for himself he never remembered quarrels or resented affronts; disappointments of every kind he forgot; indeed, if a school allusion may be allowed, there was scarce a past tense in his ideas; they always looked to the future.

When they rose into manhood and life, the two young gentlemen retained the same characteristic difference as when at school. Sanguine was soon remarked for his abilities, and easily flattered himself that every advancement would be open to them. He looked to the goal in business or ambition, without troubling himself to examine the ground between. Full of that pride and self-importance to which he thought his talents entitled him, he would not degrade them by an application to the ordinary means by which inferior men attain success. He would not stoop to solicit what he thought his merit him gave a right to expect: to conciliate the great, he called servility; to be obliged to his equals, he termed dependence. In argument, he was warm and dogmatical; in opposition haughty and contemptuous; he was proud to shew the fallacy of reputed wisdom, and sought for opportunities of treating folly with disdain. His inferiors he loved to awe into silence; and in company with those above him, he often retired into a proud indignant silence himself. To be easily pleased or amused, he thought the mark of a light and frivolous mind; and, as few people cared to be at the expence, he seldom received either pleasure or amusement. When he might have bestowed these on others, he often did not think it worth his while to bestow them. For