Tipsy dance and revelry.

There are slight habits which may be contracted by genius, which assist the action of the mind; but these are of a nature so trivial, that they seem ridiculous when they have not been experienced:  but the imaginative race exist by the acts of imagination.  HAYDN would never sit down to compose without being in full dress, with his great diamond ring, and the finest paper to write down his musical compositions.  ROUSSEAU has told us, when occupied by his celebrated romance, of the influence of the rose-coloured knots of ribbon which tied his portfolio, his fine paper, his brilliant ink, and his gold sand.  Similar facts are related of many.  Whenever APOSTOLO ZENO, the predecessor of Metastasio, prepared himself to compose a new drama, he used to say to himself, “Apostolo! recordati che questa e la prima opera che dai in luce.”—­“Apostolo! remember that this is the first opera you are presenting to the public.”  We are scarcely aware how we may govern our thoughts by means of our sensations:  DE LUC was subject to violent bursts of passion; but he calmed the interior tumult by the artifice of filling his mouth with sweets and comfits.  When GOLDONI found his sleep disturbed by the obtrusive ideas still floating from the studies of the day, he contrived to lull himself to rest by conning in his mind a vocabulary of the Venetian dialect, translating some word into Tuscan and French; which being a very uninteresting occupation, at the third or fourth version this recipe never failed.  This was an art of withdrawing attention from the greater to the less emotion; by which, as the interest weakened, the excitement ceased.  MENDELSSOHN, whose feeble and too sensitive frame was often reduced to the last stage of suffering by intellectual exertion, when engaged in any point of difficulty, would in an instant contrive a perfect cessation from thinking, by mechanically going to the window, and counting the tiles upon the roof of his neighbour’s house.  Such facts show how much art may be concerned in the government of our thoughts.

It is an unquestionable fact that some profound thinkers cannot pursue their intellectual operations amidst the distractions of light and noise.  With them, attention to what is passing within is interrupted by the discordant impressions from objects pressing and obtruding on the external senses.  There are indeed instances, as in the case of Priestley and others, of authors who have pursued their literary works amidst conversation and their family; but such minds are not the most original thinkers, and the most refined writers; or their subjects are of a nature which requires little more than judgment and diligence.  It is the mind only in its fulness which can brood over thoughts till the incubation produces vitality.  Such is the feeling in this act of study.  In Plutarch’s time they showed a subterraneous place of study built by Demosthenes, and where he often continued for two