who thinks it is the art of speaking and writing in such a manner as is most likely to obtain the ends which he proposes to himself in speaking or writing. Does he address the multitude? He will aim at being perspicuous, intelligible, and impassioned. Does he speak before men of learning, and such as are eloquent themselves? He will endeavour to be rational and concise. Does he desire to convince? He will reason. Does he wish to give delight? He will be copious, flowing, rich in imagery, and elegant in expression : nothing will be harsh, nothing careless, nothing unpolished or repulsive. Does he mean to agitate or persuade? He will be warm, animated, and glowing. He will arm himself with the thunders and lightnings of eloquence; or will speak in the mildest tone of insinuation, with "bated breath and whispering humbleness." In short, he will at all times accommodate himself to his situation; he will be

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Orpheus in silvis, inter delphinas Arion."

Like Sylla, he will convert the trees of the academy into martial engines.

Yet this is not all his praise, for it is not only on public and solemn occasions that he will find oppor

tunities to use his manifold skill*—his eloquence is not only fitted for the bar, the pulpit, or the public assemblies of the state, but for the numberless interesting occurrences of private life, and may even descend to the narration of events, the composition of a letter, or the dexterous management of common conversation. To men who have lived in the world, and seen real affairs, the utility of such a varied, accommodating, and ready skill, cannot but be obviously apparent. It is thus spoken of by Lord Bacon, and is set down by him among the desiderata :

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Surely it will not be amiss to recommend this "whereof we now speak to a new inquiry, to call it by "name, The Wisdom of Private Speech, and to refer it "to deficients; a thing certainly which the more seriously

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"a man shall think of, the more highly he shall value†.” But setting aside the evident advantages arising from a superior ability in delivering one's sentiments on great

* Is orator erit, mea sententia, hoc tam gravè dignus nomine, qui quæcumque res inciderit, prudenter, et compositè, ornatè, et memoriter dicat. Cic. de Or., Lib. I. sect. 15.

† Certè, non abs re fuerit, circa hoc ipsum, de quo nunc dicimus, novam instituere inquisitionem, eamque nomine Prudentiæ sermonis privati indigitare, atque inter desiderata reponere: rem certè, quam quo attentiùs quis recogitet, eo pluris faciet.-De Augm. Scient., Lib. VI. cap. 3.

occasions, and even omitting to lay any stress on the obvious utility of the same skill when exerted in a man's private affairs; the pleasures that arise from fine writing are so great, so various, so often to be communicated, and so easy to be obtained, that this consideration alone would defend the art from the imputation of insignificance. For I can never be brought to believe that they are unprofitably employed, who are constantly increasing the daily pleasures of their fellow creatures; who can contrive, without corrupting men's minds, to divert and entertain them. Shall those be called unprofitable labours, which deliver a private man from the influence of his domestic anxieties; an artizan from the effects of his labour; a soldier from his sufferings; a statesman from his cares: which enable one man to forget his poverty, another his disease, a third his captivity, and all their misfortunes?

Who are these severe judges that are ever insisting upon the exclusive excellence of the mechanical, commercial, or even philosophical employments; as if those employments were good for any thing, considered separately from the end which they aim at in common with works of imagination, THE PROMOTION OF HAPPINESS? Are there any of them that tend more imme

diately to this great purpose?

Which of them has more power to refine the manners, to soften the temper, to diffuse tranquillity and cheerfulness, to correct and enlarge the mind? Away, then, with such short-sighted objections, and let those that choose it prefer the man who makes a blade of grass grow where it grew not before, to the poet and the moralist who water the sickly seeds of virtue, and cause a rich harvest of good deeds to spring up from the unfriendly soil of a depraved or neglected heart.

TO MR. HORNE TOOKE.

21st October, 1792.

I HAVE again gone through the "EÏÏEA ПITEPOENTA” carefully, without once using an Englishman's most valuable privilege, the right of skipping; but I have read it a second time with much delight and more advantage.

I at first supposed it to be a mere grammar, and did not suspect its being (what it truly is) a treatise on logic and metaphysics; yet I was already aware that languages are, really, analytic methods, and that, in learning the accidence, we are learning to combine, abstract, and generalise. Without mentioning algebra or fluxions, the well-known fact that the blind can reason well respecting forms and colours, is a proof that words and characters are the chief, though not the only instruments of ratiocination. In the simpler cases of common life, I acknowledge the same to be true. Give any thing a name, and it is attended to,