not see my letter, and desires me to convey to you her kind remembrances.

"And now, my dear Pierce, for the advice you ask of me. Let me for an instant examine your natural disposition. According to your account of the past actions of your life, I should imagine that your constant aim has been to arrive at happiness-that goal of all mankind-by an endeavour to heighten the enjoyment of life by an unnatural excess of its emotions. Your early love of excitement, your passion for the gaming-table, your rash determinations, your sanguine temperament, your easy credulity, the visionary nature of your religious views, the romantic warmth of your attachments, and the reckless impetuosity with which you embrace the most seductive of all the passions, at once afford materials which, combined, almost invariably result in unhappy consequences. There is, however, one power that may convert these elements into the highest of the social blessings.

That power is self-control. You possess it in no small degree; and it is by stimulating yourself to the practice of self-examination and self-government, that my advice can alone be of service to you.

"There are certain aphorisms I always bear in mind: they are simple and trite, but nevertheless true. I borrow them from a favourite author:

"1. He who aspires the most greedily to happiness, is always the most miserable of

men.'

"2.-The unhappiness of mankind arises in the disproportion their desires bear to their capacity for gratifying them; and therefore, to diminish the excess of the desires over the faculties to proportion the will to the power -must ever form the basis of human wisdom.'

"3.-Beyond the One Being who is self existent, there is nothing perfectly beautifulil n'y a rien de beau,' says my author, 'que ce qui n'est pas but that which is imaginary.'

"4.-Would you

live happy and wise,

attach your heart alone to that beauty which does not perish.'

"Henceforth let me persuade you to reguRemem

late your conduct by these truths.

ber the advantages with which you are gifted; consider the benefits you may not only derive from, but confer by them. Prescribe for yourself some plan of action which shall fully engage you. Let the main objects of your life be to strengthen your good purposes, and to labour for the happiness of your fellowcreatures; and-God helping-you will at last ride triumphant through the heaviest storm; the exercise of virtue will be as easy and habitual as its rewards are certain; goodness and happiness will be synonymous terms; and you will then realize the true glory of life— the blessed hope of its eternal progress and duration.

"I fear I have been rather voluminous, but the consideration of these subjects is always

interesting to me. I was as hot-blooded as yourself once, but I have eaten my peck of calamities as well as you; and an old man has little consolation in this world, if he does not seek it in a better, and turn as he best may, others into the same track. With this assurance, believe me, few things can give me so much pleasure as the affection you kindly express, and which, in truth, I reciprocate. God be with you! We shall meet, as I hope, in London.

"WILLIAM GREGORY."

My dear Mr Gregory,

"It is not without some hesitation that I have resolved to answer your very kind letter as I am about to do. That I might be desirous to give further proof of what you are pleased to call my moral courage, and so to elicit further praise from you, is naturally my first apprehension; but a little reflection persuades me that my fears are groundless.

The love of approbation is, I know, dangerous if too much indulged in, but it is not on this account to be entirely rooted out. Doubtless the love of praise is implanted in our natures as one of the most powerful incentives to virtue. The good and true force admiration from the meanest soul; and the golden opinion of our fellow-creatures is never despised except by those who are lost to a sense of shame.

"On reflection, then, I am persuaded that I need not fear the sweet unction with which you flatter me; for though deliciously sweet to the first taste, the after taste is somewhat bitter. Commendation can afford but a shortlived pleasure to one truly convinced of his . unworthiness. It rather makes him sad than joyful to think that he might but does not deserve it.

"I would not deceive you. The course of discipline I have marked out for myself, is, I freely own, dictated to me far less by any