he knows, it can be but of little more use than a lamp that is hid; while, on the other hand, the complete power of expression gives the utmost advantage to the powers of the intellect. As a wrestler who can put forth his whole strength in a twink and at the nick of time, is able to lay upon his back a slowmoulded man stronger than himself, so a speaker or a talker who has words at will on all occasions, has it in his power to baffle one possessing more extent and depth of understanding, but embarrassed and faltering for want of words. Hence, one human understanding is often compelled to yield the palm of victory to another that is inferior to it, even when truth and right are on the side of the former.

How shall difficulties be obviated, and the thing in question be attained?

The aforementioned Doctor King proposes, to youth, the method of committing to memory some of the finest passages of the English classics for colloquial use. But, with great deference to so high an authority, I must needs think that this method is very exceptionable.

The practice of echoing in conversation the express sentences and phrases of celebrated authors, besides being pedantic and fulsome, tends to enfeeble the under standing, how much soever it may strengthen the memory. It is like leaning on a staff in walking; the staff, however substantial and beauteous, either finds the body inert and clumsy that leans much upon it, or makes it so.

Speech is the vehicle of thought, and approximates toward perfection in proportion to the ease and celerity with which it conveys thought. This depends very much on judicious practice; as a theoretical knowledge of the rules of any of the arts is insufficient without practice, so it is with respect to language. Though one had a critical knowledge of all the rules of English grammar, and could give the meaning of all the words in this language, still he would be awkward, both in speaking and writing the language, till practice had made him ready and expert. It is by practice that one gets the aptitude of conforming to the rules of grammar without effort, or even so much as thinking of them; and it is by practice we learn so to connect and arrange

words that each shall be in its proper place, and the fittest for the place which it is put in.

To combine, and express with readiness, the thoughts represented by language, requires not only a sufficient knowledge of the meaning of words, but also the faculty of having them always at hand; in which case one can ever express distinctly whatever he conceives distinctly -otherwise he hesitates, however clear are his ideas. In this last respect lies the principal difficulty with many: though ideas or thoughts are clear in their minds, and they have a good knowledge of words, their speech is rather faltering than fluent, because the proper words do not spontaneously occur at the moment they are wanted.

There is perhaps a method to remove this great difficulty, in part, if not altogether. A thoroughly-practised artisan, whose trade requires a great variety and frequent change of tools, spends not a moment in studying which tool he shall take up next; the proper one presents itself without any effort at selection. Now words are the tools of intellect. If thoughts be only distinct in the mind, there will be no need to ponder and search for words to express them; which, on all occasions, will be in the tongue, ready to be uttered, if they are enrooted in the memory. A good speller is not puzzled for letters, nor how to place them: only make the requisite words as familiar to the mind as the letters of the alphabet, and they will come to the speaker whenever wanted, as letters to the speller; both occur habitually.

To effectuate this, let one write down, alphabetically, from a dictionary, the roots of as many well-selected words, as, in fine hand, would cover about three sheets of paper, and with his eye run over them occasionally till they become as familiar as the alphabetical letters. It would take up not much time, and might be done in vacant hours; and perhaps the consequence at length would be, a copiousness of words, ready for use, and as it were, offering themselves whenever wanted.

None that I know of has made this experiment, except one; and he, too far advanced in age to expect to receive benefit from it to himself, other than that of obviating, or partly obviating, the dreadful effects of

an inveterate malady of an oblivious character. This very imperfect experiment, I am well certified, resulted in his full belief that, had he hit upon it in his juvenile years, and tried it thoroughly, it might have helped him considerably to the faculty of ready expression, or fluency, of which he has ever felt the need.

Some few are gifted with a happy fecundity of words and volubility of tongue, while the minds of others, though equally intelligent, are slow; and it is only these last who need the nostrum, which I have ventured to prescribe, notwithstanding its liableness to ridicule.

CHAP. LXXIV.

A comment upon the fable of the Invisible Spectacles.

"Jove," as an ancient fable relates, "having ordered that pleasure and pain should be mixed, in equal proportions, in every dose of human life; upon a complaint that some men endeavored to separate what he had joined, and taking more than their share of the sweet, would leave all the sour for others, commanded Mercury to put a stop to this evil, by placing upon each delinquent a pair of invisible Spectacles, which should change the appearance of things, making pain look like pleasure, and pleasure like pain, labor like recreation, recreation like labor."

In

If, by the Invisible Spectacles, we are to understand the illusions which mislead the judgment in regard to the true comforts and interests of life, it is pretty certain that no kind of spectacles is in so general use. the days of youth, almost every thing is seen through these false glasses, which many wear all their lives, in spite of age and experience.

One of the most needful of all arts, is the art of computing. It is deemed indispensably necessary in all kinds of business. And hence we send our children to school, to learn the use of figures, and how to cast up accounts, and foot them to a nicety. One who has no knowledge at all of the nine figures of arithmetic,

who even knows not that 2 and 2 make four, is regarded as fit for no sort of business above that of a menial servant. But besides the knowledge of figures, there is another branch of the art of computing, which is of superior importance: I mean an accurate knowledge of the value of things, considered in relation to our real comfort and happiness. This is a kind of knowledge, not in itself so very difficult to learn, but which, nevertheless, is hidden from multitudes of men and women of good natural parts, by reason that their manner is to view things through the medium as it were of magic spectacles, rather than with the naked and unprejudiced eye of reason.

Scorn

Apart from considering the common and fatal illusion, through which immortal joys are sacrificed to transient pleasure; a great many, for want of skill in the art of computing, make wrong judgments about Pleasure, on the right choice of which their worldly welfare depends in no inconsiderable measure. ing, or overlooking, the simple and innocent pleasures of life, which are given in common to human beings, which no arts of refinement can considerably increase, and which excess never fails to embitter; they lose the good which they have, by their unfortunate longing after some unattainable state of earthly felicity. Pursuing pleasure with eagerness, and as an employment, they purchase pain; and that, at the expense of fortune, health, character, and peace of mind. At this dear rate they purchase the most grievous pain, to wit, that of satiety, which consists in loathing life and its enjoyments. He that is not man enough to govern his appetites, cannot make himself brute enough to indulge and pamper them without remorse; and therefore, in the very circumstance in which he places his chief good, he is far less happy than some of the irrational animals about him. But to return to the fabulous spectacles: it may be taken for certain that, though invisible, they are actually worn by all persons, belonging to any of the following classes:

They certainly wear them, who fondly hope to find happiness in a life devoted to idleness and an unrestrained indulgence of passion and appetite. With respect to

their true good, as relates even to this life alone, they are under a deplorable mistake. For it is an axiom built upon irrefragable experience, that if mere corporeal gratification were intended to be the chief object of our pursuits, yet, even then, with regard to real enjoyment, industry would be preferable to sloth, and temperance

to excess.

They wear them, who make slaves of themselves, and are hard and stingy, for the sake of hoarding up treasure for their children. Blind infatuation! Often, very often, it happens, that such hoards are squandered in a much shorter time than it took to gather them.

They wear them, who, though possessing a competence, fret their hearts and embitter their lives with covetings after riches. Were they to view things in a true light, they would be thankful, rather than discontented and querulous; since their condition is precisely that which is best calculated to furnish the greatest amount of genuine earthly comfort.

They wear them, who sacrifice realities to appearances, substantial comforts to glittering gew-gaws; who had rather feel misery than not seem happy, who impoverish and beggar themselves for the sake of appearing more prosperous and felicitious than those of the common sort. The folly of such people's calculations is seen by every one but themselves.

They wear them, who lay the scenes of their happiness abroad rather than at home. It is a certain truth, that one who lives on uneasy terms with himself, can find very little enjoyment in extrinsic objects. So that the very first step in the road to solid happiness, is the acquirement of a contented mind; because, without a disposition to contentment, any change of place, or of outward condition, is only the exchange of one sort of disquietude for another. And as the spring of happiness is found in our own minds, or no where; so, "wellordered Home" is the true centre of its enjoyment. Mothers, whose chief satisfaction lies in circles of fashion and scenes of amusement, have their visions wofully distorted by means of the magic spectacles. Else they would clearly see that the occupation of instructing and guiding their families, is what furnishes the sweetest of