could give inspiration to smart sarcasms on an obnoxious measure in a popular assembly, for the ability which is to balance the interest of kingdoms, and investigate the latent sources of national superiority.  With the administration of such men the people can never be satisfied; for besides that their confidence is gained only by the view of superior talents, there needs that depth of knowledge, which is not only acquainted with the just extent of power, but can also trace its connection with the expedient, to preserve its possessors from the contempt which attends irresolution, or the resentment which follows temerity.”

* * * * *

[Here a considerable part is wanting.]

* * “In short, man is an animal equally selfish and vain.  Vanity, indeed, is but a modification of selfishness.  From the latter, there are some who pretend to be free:  they are generally such as declaim against the lust of wealth and power, because they have never been able to attain any high degree in either:  they boast of generosity and feeling.  They tell us (perhaps they tell us in rhyme) that the sensations of an honest heart, of a mind universally benevolent, make up the quiet bliss which they enjoy; but they will not, by this, be exempted from the charge of selfishness.  Whence the luxurious happiness they describe in their little family-circles?  Whence the pleasure which they feel, when they trim their evening fires, and listen to the howl of winter’s wind?  Whence, but from the secret reflection of what houseless wretches feel from it?  Or do you administer comfort in affliction—­the motive is at hand; I have had it preached to me in nineteen out of twenty of your consolatory discourses—­the comparative littleness of our own misfortunes.

“With vanity your best virtues are grossly tainted:  your benevolence, which ye deduce immediately from the natural impulse of the heart, squints to it for its reward.  There are some, indeed, who tell us of the satisfaction which flows from a secret consciousness of good actions:  this secret satisfaction is truly excellent—­when we have some friend to whom we may discover its excellence.”

He now paused a moment to re-light his pipe, when a clock, that stood at his back, struck eleven; he started up at the sound, took his hat and his cane, and nodding good night with his head, walked out of the room.  The gentleman of the house called a servant to bring the stranger’s surtout.  “What sort of a night is it, fellow?” said he.—­“It rains, sir,” answered the servant, “with an easterly wind.”—­“Easterly for ever!” He made no other reply; but shrugging up his shoulders till they almost touched his ears, wrapped himself tight in his great coat, and disappeared.

“This is a strange creature,” said his friend to Harley.  “I cannot say,” answered he, “that his remarks are of the pleasant kind:  it is curious to observe how the nature of truth may be changed by the garb it wears; softened to the admonition of friendship, or soured into the severity of reproof:  yet this severity may be useful to some tempers; it somewhat resembles a file:  disagreeable in its operation, but hard metals may be the brighter for it.”