from which there is the greatest danger, and to stray, jf we must stray, towards thofe parts from whence we may quickly and easily return.

Among other oppofite qualities of the mind, which may become dangerous, though in different degrees, I have often had occasion to consider the contrary effects of presumption and despondency; of heady confidence, which promises victory without contest, and heartless pusillanimity, which shrinks back from the thought of great undertakings, consounds difficulty with impossibility, and considers all advancement towards any new attainment as irreversibly prohibited.

Presumption will be easily corrected. Every experiment will teach caution, and miscarriages will hourly shew, that attempts are not always rewarded with success. The most precipitate ardour will, in time, be taught the necessity of methodical gradation and preparatory measures; and the most daring confidence be convinced that neither merit, nor abilities, can command events.

It is the advantage of vehemence and activity, that they are always hastening to their own reformation; because they incite us to try whether our expectations are well grounded, and therefore detect the deceits which they are apt to occasion. But timidity is a disease of the mind more obstinate and satal; for a man once persuaded, that any impediment is insuperable, has given it, with resptct to himself, that strength and weight which it had not before. He can scarcely strive with vigour and perseverance, when he has no hope of gaining the victory; and since he never will try his strength,.

can can never discover the unreasonableness of his sears.

There is often to be found in men devoted to literature, a kind of intellectual cowardice, which whoever converses much among t.hem, may observe frequently to depress the alacrity of enterprise, and, by consequence, to retard the improvement of science. They have annexed to every species of knowledge some chimerical character of terror and inhibition, which they transmit, without much reflection, from one to another; they first fright themselves, and then propagate the panick to their scholars and acquaintance. One study is inconsistent with a lively imagination, another with a solidjudg. ment; one is improper in the early parts of lise, another requires so much time, that it is not to be attempted at an advanced age; one is dry and contracts the sentiments, another is disfuse and overburdens the memory; one i% insufferable to taste and delicacy, and another wears out lise in the study of words, and is useless to a wise man, who desires only the knowledge of things.

But of all the bugbears by which the Insantes barbati, boys both young and old, have been hitherto frighted from digressing into new tracts of learning, none has been more mischievously efficacious than an opinion that every kind of knowledge requires a peculiar genius, or mental constitution, framed for the reception of some ideas, and the exclusion of others; and that to him whose genius is not adapted to the study which he prosecutes, all labour shall be vain and fruitless, vain as an endeavour to mingle oil and water, or in the language of M 3 chemistry, chemistry, to amalgamate bodies of heterogeneous

principles.

'This opinion we may reasonably suspect to have been propagated, by vanity, beyond the truth. It is natural for thofe who have raised a reputation by any science, to exalt themselves as endowed by heaven with peculiar powers, or marked out by an extraordinary designation for their prosession; and to fright competitors away by representing the difficulties with which they must contend, and the necessity of qualities which are suppofed to be not generally conserred, and which no man can know, but by experience, whether he enjoys.

To this discouragement it may be possibly answered, tint since a genius, whatever it be, is like fire in the stint, only to be produced by collision with a proper subject, it is the business of every man to try whether his saculties may not happily cooperate with his desires; and since they whofe prosiciency he admires, knew their own force only by the event, he needs but engage in the same undertaking with equal spirit, and may reasonably hope for equal succels.

There is another species of false intelligence, given by thofe who prosess to shew the way to the summit of knowledge, of equal tendency to depress the mind with salse distrust of itself, and weaken it by needless solicitude and dejection. When a scholar whom they desire to animate, consults them at his entrance on some new study, it is common to make- flattering representations of its pleasantness and sacility. Thus they generally attain one os two ends almost equally desirable i they either incite

his industry by elevating his hopes, or produce a high opinion of their own abilities, since they are suppofed to relate only what they have sound, and to have proceeded with no less ease than they promise to their followers.

The student, inflamed by this encouragement, sets forward in the new path, and proceeds a sew steps with great alacrity, but he soon finds asperities and intricacies of which he has not been forewarned, and imagining that none ever were so entangled or fatigued besore him, finks suddenly into despair, and desists as from an expedition in which fate oppofes him. Thus his terrors are multiplied by his hopes, and he is deseated without resistance, because he had no expectation of an enemy.

Of these treacherous instructors, the one destroys industry, by declaring that industry is vain, the other by representing it as needless; the one cuts away the root of hope, the other raises it only to be blasted. The one confines his pupil to the shore, by telling him that his wreck is certain, the other sends him to sea, without preparing him for tempests.

False hopes and false terrors are equally to be avoided. Every man who proposes to grow eminent by learning, should carry in his mind, at once, the difficulty of excellence, and the force of industry; and remember that fame is not conserred but as the recompence of labour, and that labour, vigoroufly continued, has not often failed of its reward.

Numb. 26. Saturday, June 14, 1750

Ingentts dominos, et clara nominafamte,

llluftrique gravel nobilitatt domes
Dcvila, el longe cautussuge; contrahe vela,

Et te lit tori bus cymba prop in qua .vebat. StKKCA.

Each mighty lord, big with a pompous name,

And each high house of fortune and of same.

With caution fly; contract thy ample soils.

And near the shore improve the gentle gales. Elfhisstom.

Mr. Rambler,

IT is usual for men, engaged in the fame pursuits, to be inquisitive after the conduct and fortune of each other; and, theresore, I suppofe it wj!l not be unpleasing to you, to read an account of the various changes which have happened in part of a life devoted to literature. My narrative will not exhibit any great variety of events, or extraordinary revolutions; but may, perhaps, be not less usesul, because I shall relate nothing which is not likely to happen to a thoufand others.

I was born heir to a very small fortune, and left by my father, whom I cannot remember, to the care of an uncle. He having no children, always treated me as his son, and finding in me thofe qualities which old men easily discover in sprightly children, when they happen to love them, declared that a genius like mine should never be lost for want of cultivation. He theresore placed me, for the usual time,

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