"The rest of the sharper's story was contrived in such a way as best to answer his present inten tions. "As Henry returned home, he rejoiced in the acquisition of such valuable friends; and pleased himself with the anticipation of the many happy hours which he hoped to spend in their virtuous society. To me he was exuberant in their praises; but, the accomplishments of the young lady chiefly ingrossed his attention." She reminds me of my own Maria," said he," and as far as she comes short of her inimitable perfections, so far does she excell those of any other." Warm is her cheek with youth's enchanting bloom, "I was far from being displeased to perceive the happiness of the generous youth; especially as he had often, since his departure from Scotland, expressed his sorrow at the recollection of his fair friends, and lamented, in tenderest terms, the loss of female society. Not that in London he was excluded from the company of the ladies; for his rank and fortune gave him the privilege of being introduced to the most select parties, the gayest assemblies, and the most splendid balls. These were the emporium of beauties, under whose ban ners he might enlist, to attend their toilets in the morning, and in the evening to dangle in their train to the opera, or the play. But from these gay scenes, sir, the traces of nature were erased: for the voice of truth, was substituted the cant of affectation and flattery; and the expressions of friendship were exchanged for the grimace of unmeaning politeness. Fashion reigned sole arbitress; and, at the shrine of that insatiable and despotic Κ power, simplicity, decorum, candour, and even virtue itself, were sacrificed without remorse. "Were such qualities of head or heart congenial to Henry's soul? No; satiated and loathed, he soon turned away, and, with an aching heart, languished for the scenes that were past-those happy scenes of his early youth, when, with his beloved Maria leaning on his arm, he was wont to wander through the groves and on the mountains, surveying, with enraptured delight and gratitude, the variegated beauties of nature; and supremely blessed in the innocence and simplicity of a rural life; enjoying the sweet converse of her whom his soul adored, and not envious of the felicity of the most exalted mortal. "I sympathised with his feelings; and, indeed, I am fully convinced that, to an elegant and sensible mind, nothing can afford more exquisite pleasure than the conversation of a modest, accomplished, and virtuous female. "This new friendship, therefore, he sedulously cultivated; and what time was not devoted to study, or business, was commonly divided between the insinuating pair and me. To Henry, every new visit afforded additional testimonies of their merit; and not a day rolled over our heads but something was added to the accumulating fund of their praise. Although, to me, the superior excellency of their character did not appear in so strong a light, yet they were at least faultless; something, indeed, was perceptible to the prying eye of cool observation, but, unwilling to indulge malicious conjectures, I could attribute it only to that freedom, both of sentiment and action, which a residence in the metropolis soon renders familiar and undisgusting. Accordingly, at that time, I contented myself with making some general remark on the deceitfulness of appearance, and the artifice S of mankind, without any particular insinuations, which, I then thought, would have been equally illiberal and unjust. To such a pitch may the arts of dissimulation be carried; and so nicely may the vizor of virtue conceal the lineaments of a knave. (To be continued.) ON TRUTH.* In imitation of an Essay, by, Lord Bacon; or, rather his Essay on Truth in a different Style. THA HAT the mind of man naturally aspires at truth, is an assertion that admits of serious discussion. The mind may, indeed, suggest an enquiry after this virtue, but it seldom perseveres in the explication. We ask a question, but have neither patience or inclination to attend to the solution. We delight in giddiness, and consider it as a bondage to fix a belief; affecting free will in thinking, as well as in acting. Though the philosophers of this sect be nearly gone, yet there still remain discoursing wits, who are of the same veins; yet stored with less blood than those of the ancients. That lies should be in favour, arises not only from the difficulty of finding out truth, or when found, that it imposes on our thoughts, but from a natural and corrupt love of the lie itself. This compound propensity is ingeniously treated upon by the Grecian philosophers, who, by the bye, seem puzzled to conceive what should cause men to nourish lies, when they neither produce pleasure as *Of the Essays written by this distinguished noble- . man, there has lately been published a new and beautiful edition, embellished with an elegant portrait. We have been highly gratified in the perusal of this volume. See our Review for the present month. with the poet, nor advantage as with the merchant. I am equally undetermined as to the illustration of this query. Truth may, perhaps, be appreciated as the pearl which shines best by day; but it will not rise to the price of a diamond, or carbuncle, that appears to the greatest advantage in varied lights. A mixture of a lie not unfrequently adds pleasure. Were we deprived of vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, imaginations as one would, and the like, it would leave the minds of a number of men poor shrunken things, full of fear, melancholy, and indisposition. One of the fathers, in great severity, called poesy "vinum dæmonum," because it filleth the imagination, and yet it is but with the shadow of a lie. It is not the lie which darts through the mind; but the lie that sinketh in, that doth the hurt. You say, they are the same in their natures-they differ in their operations, the one resembles a fragment of a jetting rock suspended; the other, that fragment in its precipitation. But however these things are thus in man's depraved judgment and affections, truth, which only judges itself, teacheth that the enquiry of truth, which is the lovemaking, or wooing of it-the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it and the belief of truth, which is the enjoyment of it, is the sovereign good of human nature. *The first creature of God in the works of the days, was the light of the sense; the last was the light of reason, and his sabbath work ever since is the illumination of his spirit. * These two sentences are transcribed, verbatim, from the noble author. They might be rendered more pleasing, by omitting some of the articles and prepositions; but no words whatever could convey a more distinct idea along with them, than those to which we allude. First he breatheth light upon the face of matter, or chao's ; then he breatheth light into the face of man, and still he breatheth and inspireth light into the face of his chosen. The poet, that beautified the sect which was otherwise inferior to the rest, saith yet excellently well" Its a pleasure to stand upon the shore and see ships tost upon the sea:-a pleasure to stand on the window of a castle and to see a battle, and the adventures thereof below; but no pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage ground of truth, and to see the error and wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in the vale below." So always that this prospect be with pity, and not with self-sufficiency and pride. Surely, it is a heaven upon earth to have our minds move in charity, rest in providence, and turn upon the poles of truth; for there is in truth something so endearing, something so lovely and benignant, that the more we practise it ourselves, the more are we in love with it in others. To pass from theological and philosophical truth, to the truth of civil business, it will be acknowledged, even by those that practise it not, that clear and candid dealing is the honour of man's nature, and that a mixture of falsehood is like alloy in gold or silver, which may make the metal work the better, but it embaseth the coin; for these windings and crooked turnings are the goings of the serpent, which moves basely on its belly, and not upon its feet. There is no vice that doth so cover a man with shame, as to be found false and perfidious; nor any virtue that so dignifies a man, as truth, justice, and humanity. |