principally concerned, a strong propensity to joy is certainly more pleasing, than a dull insensibility to the objects of amusement and diversion. We are charmed with the gaiety of youth, and even with the playfulness of childhood: but we soon grow weary of the flat and tasteless gravity which too frequently accompanies old age. When this propensity, in deed, is not restrained by the sense of propriety, when it is unsuitable to the time, or to the place, to the age, or to the situation of the person, when to indulge it, he neglects either his interest, or his duty; it is justly blamed as excessive, and as hurtful both to the individual and to the society. In the greater part of such cases, however, what is chiefly to be found fault with is, not so much the strength of the propensity to joy, as the weakness of the sense of propriety and duty. A young man who has no relish for the diversions and amusements that are natural and suitable to his age, who talks of nothing but his book or his business, is disliked as formal and pedantic; and we give him no credit for his abstinence even from improper indulgencies, to which he seems to have so little inclination."

"The principle of self-estimation," continues the same great Philosopher, "may be too high, and it may likewise be too low. It is so very agreeable to think highly, and so very disagreeable to think meanly of ourselves, that, to the person himself, it cannot well be doubted, but that some degree of excess must be much less disagreeable than any degree of defect. But to the impartial spectator, it may perhaps be thought, things must appear quite different

ly, and that to him the defect must always be less disagreeable than the excess. And in our compa nions, no doubt, we much more frequently complain of the latter than the former. When they assume upon us, or set themselves before us, their self-estimation mortifies our own. Our own pride and vani

ty prompts us to accuse them of pride and vanity, and we cease to be the impartial spectators of their conduct. When the same companions, however, suffer any other man to assume over them a superi. ority which does not belong to him, we not only blame them, but often despise them as mean spirited. When, on the contrary, among other people, they push themselves a little more forward, and scramble to an elevation disproportioned, as we think, to their merit, though we may not perfectly approve of their conduct, we are often, upon the whole diverted with it; and where there is no envy in the case, we are almost always much less displeased with them than we should have been, had they suffered themselves to sink below their proper station.”

With authority like this to sustain us, we need not fear being denounced as extravagantly paradoxical, in recommending less modesty to men of merit, and men in general, it being always understood, that Lawyers, Brokers, Stock-jobbers, and Politicians, are exceptions to the lesson we inculcate; for it cannot surely be affirmed that they are too modest.

THE

AUTHOR'S JEWEL,

NUMBER XX.

LITERARY CHARACTERS.

Achilles, grown a man the lyre essay'd
On his paternal hills, and while he play'd,
With trembling eyed the rod.—

Juvenal.

PERHAPS in no city in the world, has there ever flourished such a host of Literary Characters, as in this devoted, miserable metropolis, ycleped Athenian; so infested with the pestilence of attic wit, and exuberant genius. I have been struck with this conviction, by observing the swarms of dandies, both plain and gay, who hourly resort to the Atheneum, the City Library, the Coffee House, the Museum, the Philosophical Society, and the fashionable book-stores. "What a legion of Literary Characters, have we not," cried Rugged the other day! every reader of a newspaper now thinks himself entitled to that exalted appellation, without ever having studied the works of D' Israeli, or perused the Noble Author's of Walpole! I do not mean however, he added to degrade the former writer, by classing his productions with the latter; but a pretender to the literary character, should read the first, to see how difficult, Q.

operose, and various, is the knowledge, study and acquirements of a genuine man of Letters: and he should read Walpole, as he would look into a mirror, to see how shallow and frivolous, are the acquisitions of a Literary Coxcomb, not but that Walpole is great when he draws upon the profound resources of his genius; but then he is sometimes so frivolous, that you would infer him destitute even of the powers of mediocrity. I was wrung almost to death by laughter, the other evening, continued Rugged, by listening to the table-talk of a club of Wits at the door of the Atheneum. One was a little thick pursey fellow, whose eyes buried in fat, scarcely left them the small pig-twinkle of rationality. The other, a long, gaunt, and awkward Don Quixotte, as stiff as if cramped in armour. Another looked as if his life had been spent over a blacksmith's fire instead of a book. The fat-wit was the most voluble, with the least reason, or taste, and the gaunt gentleman, seemed sentimental in proportion to his spareness; while he, who most resembled a bottle of cogniac, appeared equally as strong and subduing in his observations, as an equal quantity of that essential.

"No city on the con-ti-nent, can produce so many Literary characters, said the Fat Wit, as ours. Look at our Phi-lo-soph-ical society; and our public library; and this here excellent institution, the Athene

um.

We ought to have a Literary Club. I'll head it myself, without a cent of reward. Here is an excellent place to meet. Here we would have the newspapers all ready. All the members of the Athe

neum, should be members of the Club. Only we should have our beer and cigars." "That, I'll be burnt would be necessary, said the man with the furnace face. "It would banish sentiment," said the gaunt man; "unless indeed in a song. I have some superb sentimental songs in my desk." Banish sentiment! said the fat wit, with contempt! poh? beer's the life of it. Look at Washington Irving-I mean his last book-Bracebridge Hall? hah? look there and see if beer banishes sentiment-banish a booby! But about our Literary Club. You know all our members are Literary Characters! well then we should have a Literary work, conducted by the members in rotation. I have thought of a grand title The Wits' Oracle, or the Attic Palace of Knowledge"-With the motto of 'flatter thyself,' said the gaunt man. "I know a better one, said furnace-face, "Confusion to the dunces. I dont like any of them," said Fat-wit. "My motto is an excellent thing, I have it from a book of rhymes.

They who dig too deep for wit,
Are sure by notions to be bit;

But they who hunt for sense and matter,
Had better only have a smatter.

"However, I think I'd rather have a new building, and the professors they talk of" "What professors," said furnace-face-"not physic d'ye mean. "No! why are you really so ignorant. The professors of law, politics, and Belles-Lettres. Mr. Adams, the next president is to be our Patron- S- the lawyer, is to teach us how to respect him, how to puff him, and how to support his election, by his lectures on