our inferiors only or our equals. Few persons can bear to suppose that their intimate companions are of more consequence than they themselves are, even for powers which they are not desirous of possessing, and they envy the fame which is the result of certain talents, though they do not envy the talents themselves.

The following well-known anecdote from Plutarch will not be irrelevant here.

"At the time that Aristides was banished, when the people were inscribing the names on the shells, it is reported that an illiterate burgher came to Aristides, whom he took for an ordinary person, and giving him his shell, desired him to write Aristide upon it. The good man, surprised at the adventure, asked him whether Aristides had ever injured him. No, said he, nor do I even know him, but it vexes me to hear him every where called the Just." Now this Athenian was in no sort of particular rivalship with that great and virtuous man, but he hated him for his superiority and good name; and such is the obliquity of human nature, that I fully believe, a degree of the feeling that actuated this Athenian, is often awakened amongst us by the successes and the reputation of our associates and friends. I beg leave to indulge myself with telling the rest of this anecdote. Aristides made no answer but took the shell, and having written his own name on it returned it to the man, and when he quitted Athens, this Christian Heathen lifted up his hands towards heaven, and pray

ed for his enemies; prayed that the people of. Athens might never see the day which should force them to remember Aristides.

The following extract, from the nineteenth number of the Spectator, on envy, particularly on the envy which a successful author excites, will I trust amuse my readers.

"But keeping in the common road of life, I shall consider the envious man with relation to these three heads, his pains, his reliefs, and his happiness. The envious man is in pain on all occasions which ought to give him plea

sure.

The relish of his life is inverted; and the objects which administer the highest satisfaction to those who are exempt from this passion, gives the quickest pangs to persons who are subject to it: all the perfections of their fellow creatures are odious. Youth, beauty, valour and wisdom, are provocations of their displeasure What a wretched and apostate state is this! to be offended with excellence, and to hate a man because we approve him! The condition of the envious man is the most emphatically miserable; he is not only incapable of rejoicing at another's merit or success, but lives in a world where all mankind are in a plot against his quiet by studying their own happiness and advantage. Will Prosper is an honest tale-bearer, he makes it his business to join in conversation with envious men. He points to such a handsome young fellow, and whispers that he is secretly married to a great fortune; when they doubt, he adds circumstances to prove it, and never fails to ag

gravate their distress by assuring them that to his knowledge he has an uncle who will leave him some thousands.

"Will has many arts of this kind to torture this sort of temper, and delights in it. When he finds them change colour, and say faintly they wish such a piece of news is true, he has the malice to speak some good or other of every man of their acquaintance.

"The reliefs of the envious man are those little blemishes and imperfections that discover themselves in an illustrious character.

"It is matter of great consolation to an envious person, when a man of known honour does a thing unworthy of himself, or when any action, which was well executed, upon better information appears so altered in its circumstances, that the fame of it is divided among many, instead of being attributed to one. This is a secret satisfaction to these malignants; for the person whom they before could not but admire, they fancy is nearer their own condition, as soon as his merit is shared among others.

"I remember some years ago there came out an excellent poem without the name of the author. The little wits, who were incapable of writing it, began to pull in pieces the supposed writer. When that would not do, they took great pains to suppress the opinion that it was his. That again failed. The next refuge was to say it was overlooked by one man and many pages written wholly by another. An honest fellow, who sat among a cluster of them in debate on this subject, cried

out, "gentlemen, if you are sure none of you yourselves had a hand in it, you are but where you were, whoever writ it." But the most usual succour to the envious, in cases of nameless merit in this kind is to keep the property, if possible, unfixed, and by that means to hinder the reputation of it from falling on any particular person. You see an envious man clear up his countenance, if, in the relation of any man's great happiness in one point, you mention his uneasiness in another. When he hears such a one is very rich he turns pale; but recovers when you add that he has many children. In a word, the only sure way to an envious man's favour is, not to deserve it. But if we consider the envious man in delight, it is like reading of the seat of a giant in a romance; the magnificence of his house consists in the many limbs of men whom he has slain. If any who promised themselves success in any uncommon undertaking, miscarry in the attempt, or he that aimed at what would have been useful and laudable, meets with contempt and derision, the envious man, under the colour of hating vain glory, can smile with an inward wantonness of heart at the ill effect it may have upon an honest ambition for the future.

"Having thoroughly considered the nature of this passion, I have made it my study how to avoid the envy that may accrue to me from these my speculations; and if I am not mistaken in myself, I think I have a genius to escape it. Upon hearing, in a coffee-house, one

of my papers commended, I immediately apprehended the envy that would spring from that applause; and therefore gave a description of my face the next day; being resolved, as I grow in reputation for wit, to resign my pretensions to beauty. This, I hope, may give some ease to those unhappy gentlemen, who do me the honour to torment themselves upon the account of this my paper. As their case is very deplorable, and deserves compassion, I shall sometimes be dull, in pity to them, and will from time to time, administer consolations to them by further discoveries of my person. In the meanwhile, if any one says the Spectator has wit, it may be some relief to them to think that he does not show it in company. And if any one praises his morality, they may comfort themselves by considering, that his face is none of the longest."

I believe competition is never so dangerous as when it is between married people, and I have always admired the wisdom of those husbands and wives who never venture to play chess together. But, if the collision of ability in a simple game of chess be replete with danger to wedded harmony, how much more so the competitions of authorship! and while I presume to advise authors and authoresses not to marry each other, I give the following extract from Dr. Young's Universal Passion, to strengthen my advice:

"But not in shades the Muses smile alone,

Their sacred force Amelia feels in town;