and ends with fire and flames. A judicious reader will observe an impropriety of this kind, in one of the late essays of the inimitable author last quoted, where he tells us, "that women were formed to temper mankind, not to set an edge upon their minds, and blow up in them those passions which are too apt to rise of their own accord." Thus a celebrated orator, speaking of that little blackening spirit in mankind, which is fond of discovering spots in the brightest characters, remarks, that when persons of this cast of temper have mentioned any virtue of their neighbour, "it is well, if, to balance the matter, they do not clap some fauit into the opposite scale, that so the enemy may not go off with flying colours." Dr. Swift, also, whose style is the most pure and simple of any of our classic writers, and who does not seem, in general, very fond of the figurative manner, is not always free from censure in his management of the metaphorical language. In his essay on the "Dissensions of Athens and Rome," speaking of the populace, he takes notice, that, "though in their corrupt notions of divine worship, they are apt to multiply their gods; yet their earthly devotion is seldom paid to above one idol at a time, whose oar they pull with less murmuring and much more skill, than when they shared the lading, or even hold the helm." The most injudicious writer could not possibly have fallen into a more absurd inconsistency of metaphor than this eminent wit has inadvertently been betrayed into, in this passage: for what connexion is there between worshipping and rowing, and who ever heard before of pulling the oar of an idol ? As there are certain metaphors which are common to all language, there are others of so delicate a nature, as not to bear transplanting from one nation into another. There is no part, therefore, of the business of a translator more difficult to manage, than this figure, as it requires great judgment to distinguish when it may, and may not, be naturalized with propriety and elegance. The want of this necessary discernment has led the common race of translators into great absurdities, and is one of the principal reasons that performances of this kind are generally so insipid. What strange work, for instance, would an injudicious interpreter make with the following metaphor in Homer? Νυν γαρ δη παντεσσιν επί ξυρου ισταται ακμης. IL. X. 173. But Mr. Pope, by artfully dropping the particular image, yet retaining the general idea, has happily preserved the spirit of his author; and, at the same time, humoured the different state of his own countrymen. Each single Greek, in this conclusive strife, And now, Orontes, do you not think it high time to be dismissed from this fairy land? Permit me, however, just to add, that this figure, which casts so much light and beauty upon works of genius, ought to be entirely banished from the severer compositions of philosophy. It is the business of the latter to separate resemblances, not to find them, and to deliver her discoveries in the plainest and most unornamented expressions. Much dispute, and, perhaps, many errors, might have been avoided, if metaphor had been thus confined within its proper limits, and never wandered from the regions of eloquence and poetry. I am, &c. XXV. TO PHILOTES. Aug. 5, 1744. Do not you begin to think that I ill deserve the prescription you sent me, since I have scarce had the manners even to thank you for it? It must be confessed, I have neglected to "honour my physician with the honour due unto him:" that is, I have omitted not only what I ought to have performed by good-breeding, but what I am expressly enjoined by my Bible. I am not, however, entirely without excuse; a silly one, I own; nevertheless, it is the truth. I have lately been a good deal out of spirits; but at length the fit is over. Amongst the number of those things which are wanting to secure me from a return of it, I must always reckon the company of my friend. I have, indeed, frequent occasion for you, not in the way of your profession, but in a better; in the way of friendship. There is a healing quality in that intercourse, which a certain author has, with infinite propriety, termed the "medicine of life." It is a medicine, which, unluckily, lies almost wholly out of my reach; fortune having separated me from those few friends whom I pretend or desire to claim. General acquaintances, you know, I am not much inclined to cultivate; so that I am at present as much secluded from society as if I were a "sojourner in a strange land." Though retirement is my dear delight, yet, upon some occasions, I think I have too much of it; and I agree with Balzac, que la solitude est certainement une belle chose; mais il y a plaisir d'avoir quelqu'un qui sache repondre; à qui on puisse dire de tems en tems, que la solitude est une belle chose. But I must not forget, that, as I sometimes want company, you may as often wish to be alone; and that I may, perhaps, be at this instant breaking in upon one of those hours which you desire to enjoy without interruption. I will only detain you, therefore, whilst I add that I am, &c. XXVI. TO PHIDIPPUS. May 1, 1745. Ir that friend of yours, whom you are desirous to add to the number of mine, were endowed with no other quality than the last you mentioned in the catalogue of his virtues, I should esteem his acquaintance as one of my most valuable privileges. When you assured me, therefore, of the generosity of his disposition, I wanted no additional motive to embrace your proposal of joining you and him at * *. To say truth, I consider a generous mind as the noblest work of the creation, and am persuaded, wherever it resides, no real merit can be wanting. It is, perhaps, the most singular of all the moral endowments. I am sure, at least, it is often imputed where it cannot justly be claimed. The meanest self-love, under some refined disguise, frequently passes upon common observers for this godlike principle; and I have known many a popular action attributed to this motive, when it flowed from no higher a source than the suggestions of concealed vanity. Good-nature, as it has many fea tures in common with this virtue, is usually mistaken for it: the former, however, is but the effect, possibly, of a happy disposition of the animal struc ture, or, as Dryden somewhere calls it, of a certain "milkiness of blood:" whereas the latter is seated in the mind, and can never subsist where good sense and enlarged sentiments have no existence. It is entirely founded, indeed, upon justness of thought; which, perhaps, is the reason this virtue is so little the characteristic of mankind in general. A man, whose mind is warped by the selfish passions, or contracted by the narrow prejudices of sects or parties, if he does not want honesty, must undoubtedly want understanding. The same clouds that darken his intellectual views, obstruct his moral ones; and his generosity is extremely circumscribed, because his reason is exceedingly limited. It is the distinguishing pre-eminence of the Christian system, that it cherishes this elevated principle in one of its noblest exertions. Forgiveness of injuries, I confess, indeed, has been incul cated by several of the heathen moralists; but it never entered into the established ordinances of any religion, till it had the sanction of the great Author of ours. I have often, however, wondered that the ancients, who raised so many virtues and affections of the mind into divinities, should never have given a place in their temples to Generosity; unless, perhaps, they included it under the notion of Fides or Honos. But, surely, she might reasonably have claimed a separate altar, and superior rites. A principle of honour may restrain a man from counteracting the social ties, who yet has nothing of that active flame of generosity, which is too |