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where amidst affected smoothness and complaisance, fuspicious looks and sudden starts of passion betray the mutual jealousies which burn within them, and which are every moment ready to burst out through all the restraints which the presence of the company imposes?

Those amiable paflions, even when they are acknowledged to be excessive, are never regarded with aversion. There is something agreeable even in the weakness of friendship and humanity. The too tender mother, the too indulgent father, the too generous and affectionate friend, may fometimes, perhaps, on account of the softness of their natures, be looked upon with a species of pity in which, however, there is a mixture of love, but can never be' regarded with hatred and averfion, nor even with contempt, unless by the most brutal and worthless of mankind. It is always with concern, with sympathy and kindness, that we blame them for the extravagance of their attachment. There is a helpnessness in the character of extreme humanity which more than any thing interests our pity. There is nothing in itself which renders us either ungraceful or disagreeable. We only regret that it is unfit for the world, because the world is unworthy of it, and because it must expose the person who is endowed with it as a prey to the perfidy and ingratitude of insinuating falfhood, and to a thousand pains and uneasinesses, which, of all men , he the least deserves to feel, and which generally too he is, of all men, the least capable of supporting. It is quite otherwise

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with hatred and resentment. Too violent a propensity to those detestable paflions, renders a perfon the object of universal dread and abhorrence, who, like a wild beast, ought, we think, to be hunted out of all civil fociety.

CH A P. V.

of the selfish Pasions. BESIDES those two opposite sets of paffions, the social and unsocial, there is another which holds a sort of middle place between them ; is never either so graceful as is sometimes the one set, nor is ever so odious as is fometimes the other. Grief and joy, when conceived upon account of our own private good or bad fortune

or bad fortune, conftitute this third set of passions. Even when excessive, they are never fo disagreeable as exceflive resentment, because no opposite sympathy can ever intereft us against them: and when most suitable to their objects, they are never so agreeable as impartial humanity and just benevolence; because no double sympathy can ever intereft us for them. There is, however, this difference between grief and joy, that we are generally most disposed to sympathize with small joys and great sorrows. The man who, by some sudden revolution of fortune, is lifted up all at once into a condition of life , greatly above what he had formerly lived in, may be assured that the congratulations of his best friends are not

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all of them perfectly fincere. An upstart, though of the greatest merit, is generally disagreeable, and a sentiment of envy commonly prevents us from heartily sympathizing with his joy. If he has any judgment, he is sensible of this, and instead of appearing to be elated with his good fortune, he endeavours, as much as he can, to smother his joy, and keep down that elevation of mind with which his new circumstances naturally inspire him. He affects the same plainness of dress, and the same modesty of behaviour, which became him in his former ftation. He redoubles his attention to his old friends, and endeavours more than ever to be humble asliduous, and complaisant. And this is the behaviour which in his situation we most approve of; because we expect, it seems, that he should have more sympathy with our envy and averfion to his happiness, than we have with his happiness. It is seldom that with all this he succeeds. We suspect the fincerity of his humility, and he grows weary of this constraint. In a little time, therefore, he generally leaves all his old friends behind him, some of the meanest of them excepted who may, perhaps, condescend to become his dependents: nor does he always acquire any new ones; the pride of his new connexions is as much affronted at finding him their equal, as that of his old ones had been by his becoming their fuperior: and it requires the most obftinate and persevering modesty to atone for this mortification to either. He generally grows weary too soon, and is provoked, by the sullen and suspicious pride of the one, and by the saucy contempt of the other, to treat the first with neglect, and the second with petulance, till at last he grows habitually insolent, and forfeits the esteem of all. If the chief part of human happiness arises from the consciousness of being beloved, as I believe it does, those sudden changes of fortune seldom contribute much to happiness. He is happiest who advances more gradually to greatness, whom the public destines to every step of his preferment long before he arrives at it, in whom, upon that account, when it comes, it can excite no extravagant joy, and with regard to whom it cannot reasonably create either any jealousy in those he overtakes, or any envy in those he leaves behind.

Mankind , however, more readily sympathize with those smaller joys which flow from less important causes. It is decent to be humble amidst great prosperity ; but we can scarce express too much satisfaction in all the little occurrences of common life, in the company with which we spent the evening last night, in the entertainment that was set before us, in what was said and what was done, in all the little incidents of the present conversation, and in all those frivolous nothings which fill up the void of human life. Nothing is more graceful' than habitual cheerfulness, which is always founded upon a peculiar relish

upon a peculiar relish for all the little pleasures which common occurrences assord. We readily sympathize with it: it inspires us with the fame joy, and makes every trifle turn up to us in the fame agreeable aspect in which it presents itself to

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the person endowed with this happy disposition. Hence it is that youth, the season of gaiety, so easily engages our affections. That propensity to joy which seems to animate the bloom, and to sparkle from the eyes of youth and beauty, though in a person of the same sex, exalts, even the aged, to a more joyous mood than ordinary. They forget, for a time, their infirmities, and abandon themselves to those agreeable ideas and emotions to which they have long been strangers, but which, when the presence of so much happiness recals them to their breast, take their place there, like old acquaintance, from whom they are sorry to have ever been parted, and whom they embrace more heartily upon account of this long separation.

It is quite otherwise with grief. Small vexations excite no sympathy, but deep afliction calls forth the greatest. The man who is made uneasy by every little disagreeable incident, who is hurt if either the cook or the butler have failed in the least article of their duty, who feels every defect in the highest ceremonial of politeness, whether it be shown to himself or to any other person, who takes it amiss that his intimate friend did not bid him good-morrow when they met in the forenoon, and that his brother hummed a tune all the time himself was telling a story; who is put out of humor by the badness of the weather when in the country, by the badness of the roads when upon a journey, and by the want' of company, and dulness of all public diversions when in town; such a person, I say, though he should have some

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