all thoughts developed, and all errors corrected: these are books and conversation. It will perhaps be observed, that every thing which is valuable in literature may be found in our own language; which, being both copious in itself, and concise in its construction, is well adapted to the explanation and discussion of all subjects, whether familiar or scientific, simple or abstruse.

Few will be disposed to deny this; and it is fortunate for such as have not time or inclination to study other languages, that a greater number of valuable and excellent works have been written in English than in any other living tongue; and the master-pieces of all other nations have been added to our libraries by able translators: but the best of these, we may venture to say, seldom give more than a correct but meagre sketch of the original, deficient in all the finer touches, and wanting the harmony and variety of light and shade; without which verbal composition, like painting, can con-vey no pleasure to the mind. Even in prose, the best translation falls short of the original; and to attempt translating poetry is as if one were to draw a simple outline of a Roman edifice in ruins, to give another an idea of a picture by Claude Lorraine.

But admitting that translations could be rendered less imperfect than they are, and from their nature must ever be, shall a man neglect to possess himself of a key to all the treasures of literature, a passport to familiar intercourse with people of other nations, because he may avail himself of an interpreter? As well might he refuse learning to swim, because he may be accommodated with a cork jacket.

The inadequacy of a translation to convey more than the bare meaning of an author, stripped of that original colouring, which alone can render a work deeply interesting, is proved by the fact, that those who have not been taught to read the ancient authors in the original seldom attempt to become acquainted with them. Amongst the numerous translations attempted by learned men, and allowed to be as good as the nature of the task admits, there is a very small number which people make a point of reading once, to avoid the imputation of ignorance, but never take up a second time, or think of having recourse to by way of

amusement.

A boy, intended for either of the learned professions, is obliged to struggle through many a laborious page of Latin and Greek; and fashion

more imperious than church, law, or physic, requires the labour, even where the object does not exist: his best years, therefore, are devoted to the study of the dead languages. Can any thing be more inconsistent than to look with contempt upon a talent for acquiring with facility, that which custom has rendered indispensable? And can it be denied, that one who in boyhood has toiled through the dry rudiments of school learning, has reason to exult in a disposition of mind, which fosters this otherwise unprofitable seed, and rewards the labour of cultivation with the rich fruits of harvest? Or, to speak less figuratively, is it not desirable to possess the faculty of eventually converting the dullest toil into the richest enjoyment?

The value of all acquirements must of course depend upon the use we make of them. I knew a man who boasted of an acquaintance with nine different languages; yet he scarcely spoke one intelligibly, and never opened a book even in his own. A lady spoke to me, with considerable selfcomplacency, of her having learned so much of Hebrew, as to enable her, with some difficulty, to construe the Bible. Far better had it been for her to have employed the same time in reading it in English!

But such instances are uncommon: there are few who would take so much trouble merely to gratify their vanity by talking of it. Men have generally sense enough to apply that which they have industry enough to acquire; and a talent ought not to be undervalued merely because some have abused it. Yet, if we look upon a knowledge of languages simply as an ornamental accomplishment, though that is the meanest point of view in which it can be considered, still it is worth more than bad music, indifferent drawing, and some other performances, miscalled fine arts, with which young people usually amuse themselves, with little regard to the utility of the pursuit, or to their own capacity for bringing it to perfection.

The time consumed in cultivating these might be much better employed in learning languages, if they can do it with pleasure and facility; since such attainments are, at the least, always elegant, and may prove useful.

ESSAY XXVIII.

ON THE EQUAL DISTRIBUTION OF HAPPINESS IN THIS LIFE.

"God, in the nature of each being, founds
Its proper bliss, and sets its proper bounds;
But, as he framed a whole, the whole to bless,
On mutual wants built mutual happiness."

POPE.

I HAVE always been of opinion that the comforts and pleasures of this world are very equally distributed amongst mankind, and that no particular class or station in life can boast of having a greater share of its blessings than falls to the lot of others. Instances of singular felicity, and remarkable suffering, may be taken from every rank in society; cheerfulness and discontent are equally common among the high and the low, and it does not appear that riches or poverty tend, generally speaking, to stamp the lot of the possessor as one of happiness or misery. It may at first sight appear absurd to suppose that any thing like equality of