Any discussion on the fine arts, unless we can produce new observations of our own.
Any account of our travels, except the subject is introduced by others.
It is singular how ill, in general, men bear little talents and accomplishments, and how much more overweening they are made by them than by great ones. This seems to justify what one considers at first an English prejudice—the sort of contempt that excelling in ornamental branches of education is so apt to bring on a man, unless managed with great address and apparent indifference to them; and, indeed, even then I believe they rather take from his dignity.
The moral uses of pain and sickness. Humility, patience, courage, sympathy, and compassion. A just appreciation of beauty, strength, rank, talents, and riches. A willingness to think no assistance to our fellow-creatures too considerable to be given, or too small to be received. An extraordinary increase and development of the social affections. Besides these general uses, sickness has often the particular advantage of breaking vicious or dangerous connexions, and arresting us in the career of guilt and folly.
Why should a ready laugh, a general shake of the hand, and that difficulty of living alone or in a family circle which makes all new comers equally welcome, constitute a good-natured man? Good nature is no great laugher. Nine laughs out of ten spring from a contemptuous feeling toward their object, or a triumphant consciousness of superiority. Good nature is too affectionate to shake hands with every new comer in the same cordial manner; and above all, good nature can cheerfully pass her time alone; for her hours, always sweetened by the kindliness of her feelings, cannot be tinctured with ennui, while she can either serve or gratify another.
The liberty of the press acts like a perpetual alterative, curing, or lessening by imperceptible degrees, the ailments of the body politic.
TO CHARLES MANNERS ST. GEORGE, ESQ.,
FRANKFORT.
Bursledon Lodge, Feb. 18, 1816.