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says, I need you no longer; and that he would, if he could, betray the interests of the man who had kindly taken him to his heart. Happy for society, though this enemy may, for a time, lurk about in search of victims, he soon meets with his destruction, and from the very means by which he hopes to conquer and destroy. Men, though they may contemn the weaknesses of the betrayed, fear and hate the betrayer; and the insidious assassin of his friend no sooner be. comes marked and known, than he is hunted with a general cry of indignation into the same obscure corner from which he had emerged, neglected, and despised.

I believe that the goodness of Providence seldom interferes more greatly than to prevent and destroy the designs of the private enemy, and that it is a proof of any man's having its particular protection when his enemies have no power to succeed against him.

Envy seems to resemble the scorpion, which if confined in the limits of a small circle of live ashes, seeks to enlarge its dominion at all points, till unable to succeed, it at length fixes its own sting within its back, and expires. Hatred dies in much the same way ; unable to hurt, it runs, like the swine possessed with the evil spirit to the sea side, and destroys itself. Malice may exist longer, as it may creep insidiously to stab in bye corners; but truth is the sun from which, at length, malice must retire, and then it sickens into a state of corruption that is too offensive to be suffered, and the hideous object is avoided by all.

There are some leading features in the character of this enemy by which, notwithstanding his mask and cloak, he may be known; the principal one is, that in speaking of others he is inconsistent. At one time his reports are favourable, and at another he depreciates from the merits of the very man he had praised before; in short, he blows hot and cold with the same breath. It is always sufficient cause to shun a man if we find he has the habit of speaking ill of another who is not present; and much as you may be entertained with his severities, you may rest assured that you will have also your share the first opportunity. Another feature is, that he is never open and candid, that he sculks, as it were, along a wall, ashamed to look any body in the face; his actions resemble those of a thief, because he is the worst of thieves, seeking to rob and supplant every one he meets. If he gives praise, it is only to introduce some observation that stabs at the same time; it is administering honey and arsenic; and if he flatters you, it is the flattery of the devil, and meant only the better to tempt and deceive.

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I shall not dismiss the subject of enemies without describing another species, which is composed of the public and private characters; I mean that of the venal or partial critic, for the effects of venality or undue partiality are alike. Partiality always presumes prejudice, and prejudice is almost always unjust. The unjust critic is at once the private and public enemy of society; he robs honest talent of its due, and enriches the blockhead with the offerings of praise; he

fills the trumpet of fame with fallacious sounds of undeserved panegyric, and leaves the man of merit without his fair proportion of honourable mention. How often does it happen that one of these admirable critics exclaims, I do not know this author; and instead of seeking him where he is to be found, in the pages of his work, takes his character second-hand from some conceited sucker of literature, who allows talent to nobody but himself. How different from the just and impartial critic, who snatches from the impertinent group the book of genius, peruses its pages with attention, seeks anxiously for the beauties of truth, nature, character, morals, and design, allows the full measure of merit to the claimant, but honestly disdains to fill up more than he deserves; and at the same time, with liberal and friendly remark and observation, instructs him how he might have succeeded better, and have asked for more of public fame.



DEAR MR. MAN IN MOON, “ Do you know that I am in such a taking--I understand it is your intention to withdraw yourself for a time from us inhabitants of the earth, and I was frightened to death for fear I should not be in time to ask your advice and assistance. You know very well what a flustration we have all been thrown into by Mr. Buonaparte; but as he has stood shilly shally about it so long, I have recovered myself a little. To be sure I was in a sad flutter, when Captain Biscuit, my cousin Lieutenant Jelly, and Ensign Putty, were called out by a drum beating to arms the other night; but, thank heaven, it was only a neighbour's house on fire, so I turned about and went to sleep again very quietly. Pray, do you think Administration are informed of any thing? and do you imagine if the French come, that they will rack, and ravage, and turn every thing topsyturvy, as the newspapers say? I am sure I would go out to meet them, if I thought they would do any such thing; but to the subject of my letter, for what I have said is a mere preamble. I have noticed that in your papers (I am sorry you have given up writing) you have neglected very much to speak of the tender passion of love, which, as it employs a great many hands and heads in this realm, is rather extraordinary; but, certainly, as you are a profest physician of minds, you ought to be acquainted with the nature of an epidemic that has withstood the power of medicine from age to age, and which bids fair to be farther encouraged by the Vaccine inoculation. You shall know my history presently, though I tremble all over to make the discovery-to be plain, Mr. Man in the Moon, I am afraid that I am in love, and I wish you very much to examine me as to that point. I am, sir, a milliner, and the men tell me, a very pretty one; but I have, besides, a taste for literature, and should like very much to publish a novel, at Lane's. I think that I could write three volumes in a week. You must know, that I lodge in a house where they let one room next to mine ready furnished, to single men, I wishi it had remained empty to this hour. I was sitting very thoughtful, Mr. Man in the Moon, last Friday was three weeks, hemming a pocket handkerchief, and humming “ Ye streams that round my prison creep,” when I was answered from within the other apartinent, by a responsive melody that put me all in a flutter, which sounds were at length succeeded by the music of a flute. I was quite astounded, as Milton says, and the cambric handkerchief, which I was hemming, dropt from my fingers ends. I got up from my chair, lost my thimble, had to hunt for my thread paper, and overturned a bason of milk upon the bureau, which I had taken in for tea. Presently I heard no more sweet sounds; but I heard the lock of the young gentleman's room door move, and you may be sure that I was determined to take a peep. I was just in time to observe a smart young man in black, with a handsome face and good figure, descend the stairs. The next day (Sunday) it happened that I saw him coming in at the street door, so I was determined to be going out; the consequence was that we met on the stairs, and he bowed with so much complaisance, that I could not help giving him a smile in return. He usually spends his evenings at home; so the other day my fire somehow or other went out, and I was at a loss for a light--it struck me, that if I knocked at his room door he would have the politeness to give me one; it turned out exactly as I expected, he did so, and he asked me, moreover, to sit down: this put me all in a flutter; but, nevertheless,

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