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cover the application of a case, without the recurrence of all the same circumstances; in the next place, that his cases would form a perfect chaos, a rudis indigestaque moles, in his brain; and lastly, that he would often and sometimes perhaps fatally mistake the identifying feature, and furnish his antagonist with a formidable weapon against himself.

But let me fly from this intangled wilderness, of which I have so little knowledge, and return to Mr. .... Although when brought to the standard of perfect oratory, he may be subject to the censures which I have passed on him; yet it is to be acknowledged, and I make the acknowledgment with pleasure, that he is a man of extensive reading, a well informed lawyer, a fine belles lettres scholar, and sometimes a beautiful speaker.

The gentleman who has been pointed out to me as holding the next if not an equal grade in the profession is Mr. ....

He is, I am told, upwards of forty years of age; but his look, I think, is more juvenile. As to stature, he is about the ordinary height of men; his form genteel, his person agile. He is distinguished by a quickness of look, a sprightly step, and that peculiarly jaunty air, which I have heretofore mentioned, as characterizing the people of New York. It is an air, however, which, (perhaps, because I am a plain son of John Bull) is not entirely to my taste. Striking, indeed, it is; highly genteel, and calculated for eclat ; but then, I fear, that it may be censured as being too artificial: as having, therefore, too little appearance of connexion with the heart; too little of that amiable simplicity, that winning softness, that vital warmth, which I have felt in the manner of a certain friend of mine. This objection, however, is not meant to touch his heart. I do not mean to censure his sen. sibility or his virtues. The remark appplies

only to the mere exteriour of his manners; and even the censure, which I have pronounced on that, is purely the result of a different taste, which is, at least, as probably wrong as that of Mr. ...

Indeed, my dear S ......, I have seen few eminent men in this or any other country, who have been able so far to repress the exulting pride of conscious talents, as to put on the behaviour which is calculated to win the hearts of the people. I mean that behaviour, which steers between a lowspirited, cringing sycophancy and ostentatious condescension on the one hand, and a haughty self importance and supercilious contempt of one's fellow creatures on the other; that behaviour, in which, while a man displays a just respect for his own feelings and character, he seems nevertheless, to concentre himself with the disposition and inclination of the person to

whom he speaks : in a word, that happy behaviour, in which versatility and candour, modesty and dignity, are sweetly and har-, moniously tempered and blended. Any Englishman, but yourself, n.y S......, would easily recognize the original from which this latter picture is drawn.

This leads me off from the character of Mr. ..... to remark a moral defect, which I have several times observed in this country. Many well meaning men, have ing heard' much of the hollow, ceremonious professions and hypocritical grimace of courts; disgusted with everything which savours of aristocratick or monarchick parade; and smitten with the love of republican simplicity and honesty; have fallen into a ruggedness of deportment, a thousand times more proud, more intolerable and disgusting, than Shakspeare's foppish lord, with his chin new reapt and pouncet box. They scorn to conceal their thoughts; and in the expression

of them confound bluntness with honesty. Their opinions are all dogmas. It is perfectly immaterial to them what any one else may think. Nay, many of them seem to have forgotten, that others can think, or feel at all. In pursuit of the haggard phantom, of republicanism,* they dash on, like sir Joseph Banks, giving chase to the emperour of Morocco, regardless of the sweet and tender blossoms of sensibility, which fall and bleed, and die behind them. What an errour is this, my dear S.......! I am frequently disposed to ask such men, “ think you, that the stern and implacable Achilles was an honester man than the gentle, humane and cosiderate Hector? Was the arrogant and imperious Alexander an honester man than the meek compassionate and amiable Cyrus? Was the proud, the rough, the surly

This phrase is scarcely 'excusable, even in a Britoa and a lord,

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