The polished gentleman in society will always resist successfully the desire of shining. Content with the just appreciation of his worth, he will not seek for the unlimited and exclusive admiration of the company. Dignified, yet politely so, he will always be prepared to contribute largely to the general enjoyment. He will not endeavor so to thrust himself forward as to cast a shadow upon the merits of others. If Dr. Johnson could possibly have committed an error, his warmest admirers may deem him faulty in this respect. But in Goldsmith this tenacious and insatiable thirst for shining was an absolute misfortune. 'Poor Goldie,' although transmitted to posterity as the possessor of more envy than the gods gave him, could not really endure the hearty praises of another, but would turn away in sheer vexation. At a certain exhibition in London, one of his friends by his side praised the dexterity which enabled a puppet to toss a pike. Goldsmith, interrupting him, said: 'Pshaw! I can do it better myself. To prove his assertion, the author of the Vicar of Wakefield,' on his way homeward, endeavored to perform the feat; but in consequence, injured his shin. His thirst for shining after that was considerably abated. This occasional envy, however, found no real lodgment in the heart of Goldsmith; nor did it at all injure his fervent friendship for his literary associates. In other men this feeling of envy might have been the result of a malignant nature; but to the genial soul of him who wrote 'The Traveller,' it was only a shadow, which the sun-shine of affection always dissipated. In society, the man of refinement will not usurp the conversation, although his sentences may be more polished, and his thoughts more profound, than those of others. Indeed, he will adapt himself, with imperceptible grace, to the company in which he may be temporarily placed. He will strenuously endeavor to draw others out, and to divest them of embarrassment, by judicious inquiries and general suggestions. He entertains well, who renders others entertaining. He will create an impression favorable to himself, who causes others to be favorably impressed with themselves. Some men of genius will only condescend to be fascinating when their auditors agree not to be so; their greatness, therefore, is only discovered by the enormous price attached to its exhibition. Than such geniuses, men of moderate abilities are more successful in bestowing pleasure, inasmuch as they give more of their coin, albeit of inferior value; and they give it with infinitely more grace. Nor are they so rich as to refuse farthings in exchange for their pounds. Desirous of being pleased, they allow to others the privilege of attempting to be so likewise; and they are not displeased when others are more pleasant than themselves. In company, men must be willing to give and to take; to delight and be delighted. The usurper of conversation is generally apt to be severe to those who wish to share it with him. Upon his Olympus, he 'affects the god,' and hurls defiance at those who will not assist his affectation. He will not allow participation in his regal state, regarding all as unloyal who will not assent to his edicts. When

his subjects dare to think and speak, as a true Jove he hurls his fiercest thunderbolts upon their devoted heads. Now, conversation should be the flowing fountain, to whose refreshing draughts all should be entitled. Society is no monarchy, but emphatically a republic, in which the divine right of kings' may not be acknowledged. To become an honored citizen in that republic, one must faithfully discharge the duties incumbent upon him. To obtain distinction in it, he must not threaten instant annihilation to all engaged in the same pursuit.

To be cuttingly severe, is no evidence of great attainments. It is neither courteous nor politic. Any one of common abilities, bilious temperament, and bad temper, can manage to be tolerably sarcastic. The man upon whom you vent your bitterness, however, may, at some future day, with usurer's interest, repay you. The weakest man is not to be injured with impunity: his uninterrupted enmity may counterpoise the best efforts of a multitude of friends. The thousand kind words you speak may be forgotten by well-wishers; but the cutting sentence will be treasured up in the heart of your unforgetful enemy:

"THERE never yet was human power
Which could evade, if unforgiven,
The patient search and vigil long,
Of him who treasures up a wrong.'

A man's bitter words may not be flavored with attic salt; yet the quantity of venom may compensate for the deficiency. Thersites, in the Iliad, pours forth continually his fiery invective upon the heroes of the army; yet the Grecian leaders forgave his malignity on account of his insignificance. There is, indeed, in society, much to be discovered provocative of sarcasm. Sarcasm is of good Damascus steel, and will cut its way through all manner of filthy substances. It may be used with apparent success against pretending ignorance and abominable vanity; yet much calm composure will more successfully banish pomposity and check the inroads of insolence. The sarcastic man, from long familiarity with his weapon, and unlimited confidence in its use, is often tempted to resort to it, when conciliating courtesy would more avail. The polished converser will rarely stoop to sarcasm, when graceful indifference will answer his purpose. If he is with inferiors, he will display his infinite superiority only by his efforts to conceal it. If conversing with his equals, he accords to them the same liberty of speech which he himself claims. In argument he is unflinching yet honest - having recourse to no petty artifice in order to gain a momentary victory. Upon lighter topics he is graceful, carefully avoiding the appearance of labor in making his remarks interesting. Upon graver themes, he is earnest in enforcing his opinions, at the same time paying due deference to those of others. If he gains an easy victory, it is without discourteous exultation. If he finds his antagonist at all points armed, he may, indeed, experience

"THAT stern joy which warriors feel,

In foemen worthy of their steel;'

but does not allow feelings of bitter hostility to rob him of his dignity. With ready grace he changes his subject when his companions give evidence of a loss of interest in it. Like Franklin, he converses cheerfully, if he converse at all—with the rough sailor, or the beggar clad in coarse rags, contributing to the present enjoyment of each of them; or, with the prince in his regal saloon, he demeans himself with the manly grace of the cultivated man. The American Philosopher was exceedingly happy in the retort courteous.' He was dining in London on a certain occasion, when, the cloth being removed, toasts were proposed. An English nobleman present proposed: England: the sun whose beams daily illumine the world." The French minister in his turn offered: France: the moon whose genial rays dispense pleasure by night.' Franklin, rising up with republican dignity, said: To America: the young Joshua who commanded the sun and moon to stand still; and they obeyed him.'

The good converser, if he has a keen sense of the ridiculous, is often tempted to seek his 'pabulum' from objects which should always be held sacred. He will often be tempted to give vent to his merriment under circumstances when solemnity should prevail. Such temptations he should earnestly resist, remembering that 'for all things there is a time.' The possession of wit renders not only its possessor dangerous, but often places him in danger. The witty man, therefore, should be cautious how he uses his rare gift. Wit is nearly allied to hardness of heart. Wit is like unto an artificial flower, fair to the view, but not embalmed with the gracious dews of heaven. Wit differs from humor, inasmuch as the last is a quality of the heart; the first, of the head. Voltaire was a witty devil, but never a humorous one. Indeed, devils may scarcely become humorous. In the heart of Lawrence Sterne, on the contrary, humor was a never-fading blossom. Almost every page of his, by his genial, kindly, philanthropic humor, is made to drop myrrh and balmy perfume. Wit is blithe of tongue, but frosty in heart; swift of foot and nimble of wing; but without strength of breast. In the youth, wit is scarcely distinguishable from pertness; in the man, it is strongly tinctured with bitterness; and in the old man, it subsides into petulance. Humor, however, increases with years, becoming mellow in old age, putting cheerfulness in the heart, and very few wrinkles on the brow. When the grasshopper becomes a burden,' humor relieves it; when the almondtree flourishes,' humor blossoms with it, shedding a most commendable grace upon the venerable sire. The polished gentleman will cultivate humor, but not give much nourishment to wit.

The good converser, who is without malignity, will soon acquire many friends. Men will throng about him, entranced with his goodly companionship. His readiness and capacity to afford enjoyment to others, will make others delight to do him honor. Let the circle of his influence be large or small, in it he will accomplish much good. Even if he is great in nothing else, his conversational powers will secure for him an enviable reputation. If he is other

wise distinguished as hero, statesman, poet, man of parts,' the charms of his colloquial powers will increase the halo of his fame. Thomas Jefferson's presence was delightful to all who were favored with it. Possibly, in his day, no man was more celebrated for his conversational ability. He was sparkling and brilliant, yet profound in his discourse, fascinating and instructing his delighted hearers. Upon light topics of general interest, he touched with graceful ease, dallying with them as the bee with the flower, long enough to extract most delicious and delicate sweetness. His master mind grappled with loftier subjects, as the eagle, soaring to the clouds, xvdei yaιwv.' Each object in nature afforded him illustration of some particular topic, and each important fact in history he arrayed with equal facility, in support of his arguments. To dwell with him under the same roof, hearkening unto his instructive words, beholding the genial smiles upon his countenance, the light in his eyes, and the tokens of genius displayed upon his brow, would more have enriched a man, than to have dwelt forever with Aladdin in his gorgeous palace.

The polished converser will always possess the 'Open Sesame ' to the best society, inasmuch as he will bestow more than he will receive. He is the copious stream from which every guest will imbibe exhilarating draughts. His irresistible attractions will render him 'king of the feast.' Others may be the gods or goddesses, but he will be the 'sceptred, Jove-descended monarch.' Brinsley Sheridan, at all times, and in all places, ruled the throng. His auditors were invariably intoxicated with his conversation as with pleasant wine of delectable flavor. He allured, bewitched, and enchained them. With a more than mesmeric power he captivated the hearts of all. His nimble fancy wreathed itself in most inimitable sentences; now gamboling as the lamb in the flowery mead; now twisting as the lithe serpent in many-hued folds. His princely imagination, always obedient to his volition, summoned up a thousand shapes in varied guises:

'As when the potent rod

Of AMRAM's son, in Egypt's evil day,
Waved round the coast, up called a pitchy cloud

Of locusts, warping on the eastern wind,

That o'er the realm of the impious PHARAOH hung
Like night, and darkened all the land of Nile.'

Thus numberless, but far more attractive, were the shapes conjured from the teeming brain of brilliant Sheridan. It is not wonderful that in the spring-time of his life he was courted and caressed by admiring multitudes. S. T. Coleridge's conversation, also, although of a different cast, was not inferior to that of Sheridan. As the gushing fountain emitting its waters in perpetual flow, the mind of Coleridge sent forth streams of thought. For hour after hour, in 'tones most musical,' he threw off the scintillations of his genius. The strain of his conversation was always biform; it always admitted of two interpretations. Upon the top lay a meaning obvious to most casual observers; beneath, profound

subtleties nestled, whose exceeding beauty was only visible to his best-beloved disciples. The stream of his conversation was like the river of baronial mien in the fabled land, having flowers forever floating upon the surface, and opals glittering at the bottom. The flowers of Coleridge's talk were for the multitude; the opals of gorgeous hue rewarded the earnest votary who plunged beneath the flowery surface. As an inspired prophet he uttered his oracular words. He was Delian Apollo, and as graceful to view. The son of Latona in burnished armor upon the snow-clad summit of Olympus offered not a more attractive picture than Coleridge upon his intellectual tripod, adorned in the armor of polished thoughts, and with generous hand dispensing ambrosial food to his admiring followers.

Dr. Johnson, in argumentative conversation acknowledged and had no superior. As the leviathan, 'hugest of beasts,' in his own element, he would brook no opposition. In an encounter with the foe, he moved like the stately frigate, ready at the slightest provocation to belch forth his deadly thunder. With his immense amount of knowledge, he was prepared at all times for the discussion of any subject. The abstrusest point in science, the strangest fact in history, the most hidden root in philosophy, were to him known 'as of yore.' He seemed to have quaffed copiously from all the sources of wisdom. His memory likewise was extraordinarily perfect; his knowledge, therefore, was ever at his command. He had it arranged, labelled, and stored away in his mind, in different parcels. In all company his words were 'as apples of gold set in pictures of silver. No man dared to contradict his assertions, fearful of the dangerous consequences. Wo unto the unwary wretch who dared to render irate the author of the 'Rambler. Upon such he rushed as the angry elephant upon his defenceless keeper, bruising, mangling, and destroying him; then raising the carcass upon his intellectual tusk, he hurled him in sheer contempt afar from him many leagues.

6

All persons may not expect to acquire the conversational excellence of these remarkable men. Indeed, such potent conversers are of the very fewest—who, are verily, little lower than the angels. Yet any one of us, however uncouth,' may cultivate refinement with some degree of success. The asperities of nature may in some measure be smothered, and a graceful deportment substituted. If kindness of heart be cultivated with honest care, out of it will assuredly grow kindness of manner. If a man's soul be adorned with love, his speech will certainly smack of that heavenly quality. With that blessed resident in his bosom, the tones of his voice will become as musical as the sighs of the zephyrs. Meeting his fellows in the halls of luxury, or the strawroofed huts of poverty, he will endeavor to minister with sweet words to their enjoyment, or with merciful deeds to remove their sorrow. The mission of the true gentleman is of more magnitude than is generally supposed. Indeed, his whole life may be a continual sermon, and preached for great good. In this world, ‘if