16

THE CHARACTER OF A SNARLER.

"Next in succession to the peevish fellow is the snarler or growler. This gentleman deals mightily in what is called irony; and as these sort of people exert themselves most upon people below them, you perceive their humour best, in their talk to their servants: for instance- That is so like you, you are a fine fellow, thou art the quickest head-piece,' and the like. One would think the hectoring, the storming, the sullen, and all the different species and subordinations of the angry should be cured, by knowing they live only as pardoned men; and how pitiful is the condition of being only suffered !”

In illustration of the above, we have the following pleasant scene of anger:-" There came into the shop," says the Spectator," a very learned man with an erect and solemn air, and though a person of great parts otherwise, slow in understanding any thing that makes against himself. The composure of the faulty man, and the whimsical perplexity of him that was greatly angry is perfectly new. After turning over many volumes, said the seller to the buyer, 'Sir, you know I have long asked you to send me back the first volume of French Sermons I formerly lent you.'

"Sir,' said the chapman, I have often looked for

it, but cannot find it; it is certainly lost, and I know not to whom I lent it, it is so many years ago."

“Then, sir,' retorted the other, here is the other volume, I will send you home that, and please to pay for both.'

"My friend,' replied he, canst thou be so senseless as not know that one volume is as imperfect in my library as in your shop?"

"Yes, sir, but it is you who have lost the first volume, and, to be short, I will be paid.'

"Sir,' responded the chapman, 'you are a young man; your book is lost; and learn by this little loss to bear much greater adversities, which you must expect to meet with.'

"Yes, sir, I will bear them when I must, but I have not lost now, for I say you have it, and shall pay me.'

"Friend, you grow warm, I tell you the book is lost, and I foresee in the course even of aprosperous life, that you will meet afflictions to make you mad, if you cannot bear this trifle.'

"Sir, there is in this case no need of bearing, for you have the book."

"I say, sir, I have not the book; but your passion will not let you hear enough to be informed that I have it not. Learn resignation of yourself to the distresses of this life: nay, do not fret and fume; it is my duty to tell you that you are of an impatient spirit, and an impatient spirit is never without woe.'

"Was ever any thing like this?"

"Yes, sir, there have been many things like this; the loss is but a trifle; but your temper is wanton, and incapable of the least pain; therefore, let me advise you; be patient, the book is lost, but do not you for that reason lose yourself.""

SECTION IV.

ON THE INDULGENCE OF GRIEF.

And grief destroys what time a-while would spare.

РОРЕ.

Of all the human passions which most affect the health, grief is not only the most destructive, but the most permanent; and, when it takes deep root in the mind, generally proves fatal. Anger and fear being of a more violent nature, seldom last long; but grief often turns into a fixed melancholy, and preys upon the spirits, and wastes the constitution. This passion ought not to be indulged. It may generally be conquered in the beginning; but when it has gained strength, all attempts to move it are vain.

It is out of the power of every one to prevent the calamities of life; but it evinces true magnanimity to bear up under them with serenity. The indulgence of grief is made a merit of by man, and where misfortunes happen, obstinately refuse all consolation, till the mind oppressed with melancholy, sinks under the weight; such conduct is not only destructive to health, but inconsistent with reason, religion, and common sense. "There are," says Dr. South, "what may be called the ceremonies of sorrow, the pomp and ostentation of

effeminate grief, which speak not so much the greatness of the misery as the smallness of the mind."

To persevere

In obstinate condolement, is a course
Of impious stubborness, unmanly grief.
It shews a will most incorrect to Heav'n,
A heart unfortified, a mind impatient;
An understanding simple and unschool'd.

SHAKSPEARE.

Change of ideas is as necessary for health as change of posture. When the mind dwells long upon one subject, especially upon one of a disagreeable nature, it injures all the functions of the body. Hence the indulgence of grief spoils the digestion, and destroys the appetite; by which means the spirits are depressed, the nerves relaxed, and the bowels inflated with wind; the humours, also, for want of a fresh supply of chyle become vitiated. Thus many an excellent constitution has been ruined by a family misfortune, or any thing that occasions excessive grief. It is, indeed, utterly impossible that any person of a dejected mind should enjoy health. Life may, in fact, be dragged along for a few years. But whoever would live to a good old age, must be good-humoured and cheerful. This, however, is not altogether in our power; yet, our temper of mind, as well as our actions, depends greatly upon ourselves. We can either associate with cheerful or melancholy companions, mingle in the offices and amusements of life, or sit still, and brood over our calamities, as we choose. These, and many