all the false teeth, false hair, eyebrows, whiskers, and legs, and the numerous other lies, whether ivory, crinical, or cork, with which our sex pass themselves off upon the world for pleasanter and more perfect beings than they would otherwise appear. He must be a still keener inquisitor who shall detail the finer subterfuges of female delinquents, and painfully undeceivė mankind by verifying the simulated forms, features, and complexions of those fair impostors. Not all the gnomes and sprites of the Rosicrucians could form a police numerous enough to serve a subpœna upon every white hair that was mendaciously plucked out ; to arrest every broad-cloth untruth, in the form of à dandy-jacket upon old shoulders; or confiscate the fraudulent pads and fibbing rouge of emaciated belles. Should they succeed thus far, they will have to lay informations against all constructive falsehoods in the mode of living; against rich paupers and poor spendthrifts; against married couples, who wear the semblance of peace to the public, while they carry on a private domestic war; and against every vice which pays Virtue the compliment of imitating her exterior. They must arraign, in short, all those decent forgeries and amiable impositions which give a zest to polished society, by borrowing the garb of the Graces, and throwing it becomingly around our frailties and imperfections.

Nor would their duties, though already sufficiently arduous, be terminated here. To be consistent, they must endeavour to introduce a similar uniformity of Truth into the other departments of Nature. The

volent one. So far, at least, we may hold with the anomalous dictum of the jurists, that the greater the truth, the greater the libel. " O qu'il est aimé qui rend amiable!" says Gentil Bernard: and what is this amiability but a constant deviation from the strict integrity of fact, an avoidance of unpleasant veracities, and an indulgence in soothing illusions; a benevolent endeavour to make others pleased with themselves and us, by placing the character of all parties in a better light than if we brought it within the strict focus of the rays of truth? "Where Nature has been severe," said Hoppner, the portrait-painter, "we soften; where she is kind, we aggravate." Such is the art of the amiable man in painting the minds of his acquaintance, or exhibiting his own; and who would dream of accusing either the one or the other of a culpable duplicity? No, no; a pleasant deception is better than a painful reality: let us be happy in the dark, rather than be enlightened into misery. We have all our little foibles of self-love, our vanities of egotism, our illusions and inflations which may sometimes cause us, perhaps, to flutter a little too high, and enjoy ourselves out of our real sphere; but let us not anticipate the Fates in clipping one another's pinions. Alas! the best of us are but as butterflies; cut off our wings, and we are nothing but

worms.

"All the world 's a stage," exclaims Shakspeare; and Champfort, enlarging upon this idea, observes :"La societé, les salons, les cercles, ce qu'on appelle le monde, est une pièce misérable, un mauvais opéra,

east, we may hold with the

jurists, that the greater the

el.

“O qu'il est aimé qui

il Bernard: and what is this

deviation from the strict in

ice of unpleasant veracities, hing illusions; a benevolent rs pleased with themselves

haracter of all parties in

rought it within the strict "Where Nature has been

the portrait-painter, " we , we aggravate." Such is

nin painting the minds biting his own; and who either the one or the other No, no; pleasant decep reality: let us be happy e enlightened into misery. es of self-love, our vanities and inflations which may ps, to flutter a little too ut of our real sphere; but ates in clipping one ano best of us are but as butand we are nothing but

," exclaims Shakspeare; pon this idea, observes :ercles, ce qu'on appelle le able, un mauvais opéra,

their hearts into stone. Let me for ever remain defenceless, a butt to every consolatory falsehood and pleasant cheat, rather than be armed with the fatal spear of Ithuriel. Rather would I hold with the wily Gaul, that speech was given to man to conceal his thoughts, than have his tongue betray all the secrets of his bosom, unless we could approximate his nature nearer to the angelic. I do not acknowledge Truth to be more my friend than Plato; it is because she is great, and in some respects as terrible as great, that I wish her not to prevail. Away, then, ye croaking forethoughts and foresights, that would pour your dark bodings in our ear, and make us think unfavourably, although, perchance, too truly, of our species! Avaunt! ye ravens, who would tell us that love is a dream, and friendship a romance; that all the glittering joys of life are splendid lies, while all its miseries are dark realities! Keep your pestilent and gloomy wisdom to yourselves, and leave us to our happy ignorance. Tell us not that the distrustfulness of age will quickly dissipate our flattering visions; reprobating, with Fontaine, "cette philosophie rigide qui fait cesser de vivre avant que l'on soit mort," let us cling, even in second childhood, to the pleasant delusions of our first, and continue to be dupes, rather than finish by being misanthropes. It is better to know nothing than to know too much. In the beginning of the world, the knowledge of the tree of good and evil was accompanied with death: so it is still, with death to the soul, with extinction to the heart. Taking the scriptural fact either literally or allegorically, let us profit by its lesson.