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As the meanest scrap of gauze, of bead, or of tinsel, looks beautiful and costly through the mirror of the kaleidiscope, so does the most common and dreary scene acquire attraction and value, when beheld through the beautifying medium of gratified affection, and in the society of those whom we tenderly love.

Whatever merits we possess, I fear that it is always better for us not to allow ourselves to be seen too often, and too long, as we all grow tired of concealing our defects; and con, sequently, the more we are known, the less, we are esteemed.

If we took as much trouble to conquer as to disguise our faults, we should get rid of them very soon.

It is always a mark of true superiority, to be able and willing to talk on trifles with those who can converse of nothing else—it is the surest way of pleasing also;-for most persons charm less by displaying their own talents, than by calling forth the powers, or kindly throwing a veil over the deficiences of others. "Thou shalt not put a stumbling block before the blind, but shalt fear thy God." Lev. xix. 14.-I could write pages on this text-as nothing is more common than, in a figura tive sense, to " put a stumbling block before the blind;" that is, to put temptation to fall, in the way of those who are, we well know, little able to withstand it: as for instance, to urge the man, who has a propensity to drink, to fill his glass, is putting a stumbling block in the way of the blind, and is disobeying the commandment to fear God; for whatever crimes or immoralities that man may commit, while under the influence of the wine which you have thus led him to drink, you have made yourself responsible in the eyes of a Just Judge. I must indulge myself with inserting here the following short but instructive tale: A dervise, walking in his little garden, looked up, and lo! a genius stood before him-“ I am commissioned," said he, "to inform you, O! dervise, that you are destined to commit one of three great faults-murder, adultery, or drunkenness; but you are allowed

to choose your offence." The dervise instantly chose to be guilty of drunkenness, as the least fault of the three-the consequence was, that while intoxicated, he committed the other two.

"In the adversity of our best friends," says Rochefoucauld, in his two hundred and forty-first maxim,

we often find something which does not displease us." This is true, I believe; but whatever there is offensive in the sentiment may be explained away, thus:-We all love to render services to those who are dear to us; and it is only in their afflictions that our friends require our aid. A somewhat similar excuse for his own maxim, which has often been severely censured, is contained in his next-the two hundred and forty-second. "We easily console ourselves for the disgrace of our friends, when they serve to prove our tenderness for them."

In maxim 267, Rochefoucauld says, that " the pleasure of love is loving, and that one is happier through the passion one feels, than that which one inspires. I think this is only true; where the affections are stronger than the vanity, and that is a rare case; where the selflove is stronger than the affections, delight results not from feeling, but from inspiring passion. How ashamed should we often be, were we resolutely to unveil to ourselves the true motives of our actions!—

For instance-we praise the beauty, or the talents of such an one, and with an ardour that appears most generous and exemplary; but search our motive, and it will often be found, to be the wish of mortifying some one who listens to us, or a desire of appearing candid and liberal in the eyes of the company. The poet Thyrsis is notorious for never praising any one, except when he fancies he mortifies the person to whom he speaks by doing so, as his envy is far greater than his talents. "I met Thyrsis to-day," said a wit, of his acquaintance, " and I told him, that I could not read ten lines of C's. poetry-asked me to dinner directly.

"When Bifrons smiles in my face,

and hopes I am very well," said Levihanes, of a very treacherous acquaintance, "I know that he means go to h-ll.'"



"Love," says the Italian proverb, "is like a hole in a black stocking-it is discovered instantly.". If (says Rochefoucauld) there be a love, pure and exempt from any mixture of other passions, it is that which is concealed at the bottom of the heart, and of which we are ignorant ourselves." This might be true, were it not (in my opinion) impossible for any such love to exist. cannot believe that a passion, which, if it exists at all, is always the governing motive of one's actions, and the ruler of all one's feelings, can remain long undiscovered by the person whose heart has conceived it, though it may be hidden from the knowledge of every one else. There are many persons who never like or dislike any one, but from the mean instigation of gratified or offended self-love; and one becomes, in turn, a fiend or an angel in their eyes, only as one has fed or mortified their vanity. I am convinced, that vanity is not only a universal feeling, but that it is oftener a deep-seated and all-pervading passion than we are any of us aware of. That person is very far from being pure, who is apt to see impurity in the most indifferent actions.-When I see women given to suspect other women of unchastity, I am apt to believe, that they know the secret weakness of their own hearts, and are con

scious, that so tempted, they should have erred themselves.-The truly virtuous woman is not only pure herself, but is slow to give credit to the impurity of others.

Familiarity and intimacy have the same effect on the light in which some characters appear to us, when viewed at a distance, which sunshine has on those towers and buildings which we beheld and venerated, when seen by the pale moon-light. Sun-shine divests them of the awfulness and grandeur which moon-light had bestowed, and the supposed greatness and beauty of a character often disappear on a nearer approach to, and on a further knowledge of it.-I scarcely know a better lesson than is contained in the following proverb: It is difficult for an empty purse to stand upright."

Jealousy and Love are twins; but it is lamentable to think, that when Love, the pleasing twin, dies, Jealousy, the unpleasing one, usually survives, and is as vigorous as ever.

The cause is, that Jealousy had the strongest and most attentive nurse-namely, Self-love; and Selflove shrinks with aversion from the mortification of being forsaken.

How affecting are a man's tears! Those of women are as common as dew-drops, which are the production of every evening, and every night; therefore, but little regarded.-But the tears of men are like the rare and costly drops of Attar of roses, and every drop is precious, in proportion to its rarity.



THE ancient sect of the Guebres, different from all other worshippers of fire, derived its opinions from Zoroaster. The Guebres were of Persian origin, but after having met with great persecution, many of them quitted the kingdom and formed an asylum at Bombay and other establishments on the Malabar coast. Those who remained in Persia are more miserable than their emigrated

brethren, through the oppression and exaction of the government they are reduced to the most abject state of degradation.

The Persian Guebres principally inhabit the banks of the Caspian Sea, and the towns of Ispahan, Yerd, and Kerman. Their great temple of fire called Attush Kudda, Atashgah, or Atechgah, is in the neighbourhood of Badku, which, before it was con

quered by the Saracens, was visited by thousands of pilgrims. The town of Badku, one of the largest and finest ports on the Caspian Sea, is situated in the Peninsula of Abscharon, lat. 42° 22′ north. The land round the town is impregnated with naphta. The inhabitants of Badku have no other combustible nor any other light than what they obtain from this substance. The black petroleum, made into little round pieces mixed with sand, serve them instead of combustible. Three of these pieces are sufficient to heat an oven hot enough to bake bread, but the bread has a disagreeable taste and smell. This substance supplies the place of lamps and fire to the lower class of people; and serves also to cover flat roofs of houses and keeps out the rain.

About ten miles north-east of the town, there are still to be seen the ancient temples that the Guebres built. The spiritual retreat where the devout adore their God, under the image of fire, is a place of about 60 feet, surrounded by a little wall and contains a great many places for lodging. In each of these is a little volcano of sulphurous fire, coming out of the earth, through a furnace, in the form of an Indian altar. This fire serves for the purpose of cooking as well as religious worship. Shutting up the furnace extinguishes the flame. The flame is of a pale colour, without smoke, and emits a sulphurous smell. The Guebres have a wan complexion, and are oppressed with a consumptive cough. The earth in this enclosure is full of subterraneous fire, which is emitted from artificial channels, but which cannot be lighted without the assistance of another flame.

Besides these fires in the apartments of the Guebres, another large fire, issuing from a rock in an open place, burns continually. Several of these volcanos may be seen inside the wall, and resemble lime kilns. The space, which contains this volcanic fire, is about one mile in circumference. All the country round Badku appears sometimes enveloped in flames, and as if the fire descended on great masses of mountains with incredible quickness.

This fire does not burn, and if any one were in the middle of it he would not feel heat. All the earth, for two miles round this large fire, has the singular property of being inflamed by a hot coal, when it is only put in two or three inches deep, but it does not communicate the fire to the adjoining earth. If a hole is made in the ground with a shovel and a torch applied to it, a great fire soon appears. If a hollow stick or only a roll of paper is put into the ground two inches, and if some one blows through it on a lighted coal placed at the other end, a light flame will issue, which will burn neither the stick nor the paper. This method is employed by the inhabitants to illuminate houses which are not paved, and by means of these hollow sticks, whence the fire comes out, they boil their water in their coffee-pots, and even cook several kinds of food.

To extinguish the flame it is only necessary to stop up the orifice. The ground that has the most pebbles, emits the most brilliant and active flame. The smell of the naphta spreads very far, but custom makes it less disagreeable. The inhabi tants even employ this fire to calcine lime. The stones are placed one upon another in an open place, and in less than three days they are perfectly calcined. Sulphur is found where there are fountains of naphta. In bad weather, when the sky is covered with thick clouds, the fountains emit a great deal of fire, and the naphta, which often takes fire spontaneously on the surface of the earth, flows burning into the sea, to an incredible distance.

When the sky is serene and the weather fine, the depth of the fountain does not exceed three feet. The

purest and whitest naphta is found in the peninsula of Apscharon. It is more fluid and volatile than any other kind, but it is obtained in very small quantities. The Russians drink it as a stomachic, but it does not intoxicate them. Taken inwardly it is thought to be useful in the cure of several diseases, to which the Persians and Russians are more peculiarly subject.


WHAT constitutes lying? I answer, the intention to deceive. If this be a correct definition, there must be passive as well as active lying; and those who withhold the truth, or do not tell all the truth, are guilty of lying as well as those who utter a direct falsehood. Lies are many, and various in their nature and in their tendency, and may be arranged under their different names thus: Lies of vanity-Lies of fear Lies of benevolence-Lies of flattery-Lies of first-rate malignityLies of second-rate malignity-Lies of interest-Lies of convenienceLies of mere wantonness; of a depraved love of lying, and contempt for truth: there are others, perhaps, but I believe that this list contains those which are of the most import ance. There are also practical lies, that is, lies acted, not spoken, but of those I shall treat hereafter. I will give a slight illustration of each sort of lie in its turn, (lies for the sake of lying excepted; these I should find it a difficult matter to define.)

Suppose, to give myself consequence, I were to say I was actually acquainted with certain great and distinguished persons, whom I had merely met in Society, and were also to mention being at Ch- -y-House, or the Marchioness of 's assembly on such a night, without adding that I was there, not as an invited guest, but only because a benefit concert was held at these houses, for which I had tickets. These would both be lies of vanity, but one would be an active, and one a passive lie. In the first I should assert a direct falsehood-in the second I should only withhold part of the truth, but both would be lies, because my intention in both was to deceive. There is another of the lies of vanity, which, as it is one of the most common, I shall particularly mention; namely, the violation of truth which persons indulge in relative to their age-án error very generally committed by the unmarried of both

sexes. This is a lie which persons not only think themselves privileged to tell, but one which does not expose the utterer to severe animadversion, because all mankind have such a dislike to be thought old, that the wish to be considered younger than the truth warrants meets with complacent sympathy, even when it shews itself in a notorious falsehood, and that years are annihilated at the impulse of vanity. Yet if vanity be a despicable passion, this its darling lie is despicable also.

Lies of fear are confined chiefly, I trust, to weak and uneducated men and women, and to children-but of this I am far from certain. The motive to them is, most commonly, the wish to avoid punishment and anger, and sometimes the desire of not giving offence, or of forfeiting favour. For instance, a child or a servant breaks a glass, and denies having done it, to avoid punishment or anger-acquaintances forget to, execute a commission intrusted to them, and either say it is executed when it is not, or make some false excuse for an omission which was the result of forgetfulness only. No persons are guilty of so many of these lies in a year as negligent correspondents, since excuses for not writing sooner are usually so many lies-and are lies of fear-fear of having forfeited favour by too long a silence. The lie of fear often proceeds from want of resolution to say no, when yes is more agreeable to the feelings of the questioner. "Is not my new gown pretty? Is not my new hat becoming? Is not my coat of a good colour ?" There are few persons who have courage to say no, though, in their opinion, no was truth, and yes would be falsehoodnor, again, to questions such as this

"Is not my picture too old for me? Is not my last work my best? Is not my daughter handsome? Is not my son a fine youth?" Fear of displeasing prompts an affirmative answer, and perhaps this lie is one

* This passive lie is a very frequent oue indeed in certain circles in London; and many ladies and gentlemen purchase tickets for benefits, held at certain great houses, merely that they may be able to say, "I was at lady such a one's on such a night!!!"

Eur. Mag. Vol. 82.

2 B

of the least displeasing because it may proceed, for the most part, from a kind aversion to wound the feelings of the interrogator.

The lie of benevolence is still more decidedly kind in its nature. Benevolent persons withhold disagreeable truths, or speak agreeable falsehoods from a wish of giving pleasure. If you say that you are looking ill, they say you are looking well. If you express a fear that you are becoming too corpulent, they declare you are only just as fat as you ought to be. If you desire them to guess your age, they always guess you some years younger than you are. If you are hoarse in singing, and painfully conscious of it, they assure you, you never sang better in your life; and all this not from the mean desire to flatter you, and the malignant one of making you ridiculous by trying to impose on your credulity, but from the really benevolent desire of making you pleased with yourself. There also are lies of benevolence which medical men tell a dying patient, and the friends and relatives on such occasions, unless the patient and the persons interested are religious characters, and on principle desire to know the truth. It is, however, my firm conviction, that in no one instance, not even on these affecting occasions is the real truth to be violated or withheld but I know that in this opinion I am in a very small minority, which, however, as the gospel of truth is more spread, and more understood, will, I doubt not, become in time the opinion of the majority for how can a convinced, serious, and consistent Christian defend lying, that is, deception, on any occasion; for is it not forbidden to do evil that good may come? and is not deception evil?

Lies of flattery are still more common, but never can, for one moment, be otherwise than unprincipled and disgusting. They are told, no doubt, merely to gain an ascendancy, and to conciliate good will. But the flatterer is often far from succeeding in his despicable attempt. His intended dupe frequently sees through his art, and he excites indignation, where he meant to gain regard; es pecially if the flattery be administered before other observers, for then the

objects of excessive flattery, if they know ought of human nature, must know that few persons hear with complacency compliments bestowed on another; and they feel assured, not only that the praise bestowed by the one person will provoke silence, if not uttered undervaluing of their pretensions, in others; but that they shall be accused, however wrongfully, of confiding in, and enjoying the gross incense offered to them.

I hope that I do not over-rate the goodness of human nature in asserting that lies of first-rate malignity, that is, lies designed to destroy the reputation of a man or woman, are less frequent than those which I have already enumerated-but it does not appear to me that such lies are, comparatively, rare. Slander is not rare, but inaccuracy, carelessness, want of attention, and an imperfect memory, are often the causes of a tale of un

just slander, and not an intention to deceive, and lie with a view to injure.

There are men indeed who destroy the reputation of women by boasting of favours from them, which they never received; but these lies belong, I think, to the lies of vanity, and vanity in this case does not so much mean malevolence to injure another, as to exalt itself. There is also another reason why lies of first-rate malignity are not more decidedly frequent, namely, that the arm of the law defends reputations, and can punish the slanderer-but against lies of second-rate malignity, the law holds out no defence, and I know no tribunal of power sufficient to awe those who indulge in it, and protect their victims from their attacks. A spirit of detraction is, I doubt not, more widely diffused than any other in society; and it generates satire, ridicule, quizzing, and lies of second-rate malignity, as certainly as a wet season does snailsand, like the snails, they leave a pernicious slime behind them, which disfigures and destroys whatever they prey upon.

The lies to which I allude are, tempting persons to do what they are incapable of doing well, by dint of flattery, and merely from the mean, malicious wish of leading them to expose themselves, in order that the flatterer may enjoy a hearty

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