her-who is herself too much occupied about phrases and words ever to show feeling-I had nearly said, 'My dear Mrs., first elements of '-but I recollected myself in time to substitute,‘The first question is.'"

"All these indications of over estimation of self," replied Mr. D'Arcy, are considerable foibles; but if in this imperfect world, whose imperfection we ourselves so largely share, we refuse to tolerate defects in our acquaintance, we must determine to become anchorites, from a far less justifiable motive than the recluse of other days. To please ourselves must not be the supreme object in society, any more than in other social relations. We must be solicitous to communicate benefits and pleasures as well as to receive them; and when the claims of neighbourhood or of family, or religious connexions, require an interchange of the courtesies of life, with persons not entirely agreeable to our taste, charity requires us to make a sacrifice."

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But, my dear Sir, if we prefer solitude to uncongenial associates, surely we have a right to please ourselves."

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In my opinion no man has a right to please himself exclusively, unless he can show that he has a dispensation from the obligation to love his neighbour. Intolerance of taste, as well as intolerance of creed, must be judged by the same law. Men of genius, learning, and taste, are peculiarly in danger of indulging this intolerance, both as it regards books and society. Their own standard is naturally high in literature, as well as in manners, and they are in great

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danger, unless they assiduously cultivate humility, of proscribing every body and every thing which falls below their own elevation; forgetting that this very elevation is a claim upon them to endeavour to raise the low. In judging also of the characters and productions of others, they sometimes forget that there are various species of excellence besides their own; and that all talents and pursuits are admirable and laudable which are directed to useful objects. Making self the supreme or only standard of excellence, is the cause of that want of candour in judgment and criticism which very clever people too often exhibit.”

"And in our conduct towards our nearest connexions," said Mrs. Cecil, "we too often exaggerate failings which are peculiarly opposed to our temper and habits; approving or disliking what is most agreeable or disagreeable to us, rather than what is most contrary to religion and morals. Parents too often correct their children on the same principle, punishing with severity what inflicts inconvenience upon themselves, or wounds in any way their pride, and passing over lightly those faults which are opposed to morality, and affect the happiness of others."

"It is so; and your remarks remind me of a lady I once knew, the wife of a man whose talents were the charm of every society, whose temper was excellent, and whose piety and benevolence rendered him a blessing to his neighbourhood; yet she talked of the 'misery' of his disorderly habits.' These disorderly habits' were, that he sometimes left his hat on the

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table, his coat on a drawing-room chair, or his stick on the side-board, which were magnified by his lady into a trial; for, however little other people might be affected by such a fault, to a person of her habits it was quite intolerable. By her sensitive selfishness on this little point, she contrived to inflict a grievous trial on one of the best of men, whom every one, on her death, silently congratulated."

"But you will allow," observed Mr. Slade, with an emotion which showed he had felt the anecdote, "that your friend ought to have corrected the habit which was so disagreeable to the lady, even though it was a small defect."

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Assuredly; and he endeavoured to do so; but when this little failing was continually treated as a crime sufficient to outweigh all counterbalancing excellencies, it would naturally create disgust and irritation, and make him feel that he was a sufferer, rather than an aggressor."

At this moment it flashed on Mr. D'Arcy's recollection, that he had heard a report of Mr. Slade's having broken off a connexion with a very estimable woman, because he thought her taste defective in some minor particulars of furniture and dress; and, fearful of appearing personal, he changed the subject.

After Mr. S. had left, Frederick said to his eldest sister, "I think, Eliza, Mr. Slade has found out one lady whose imperfections are tolerable; he listened with so much attention and apparent pleasure, even to your contradiction of his opinions, when he decried some of

your old and favourite authors, 'whose style was so miserably defective.' He was also very anxious to call on his way back, to settle the question with you.'"

"I was determined,” replied Eliza, "to defend my favourites at the risk of his contempt; and I am not a little glad that a fastidious taste does not contract my pleasures as it does his, but that I can enjoy good sense, nature, and feeling, in prose or poetry, though it may have many small blemishes."

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If, Frederick, Mr. Slade wishes to settle with your sister a question far more important, as you appear to suspect, she will find a difference between them which ought not to be tolerated in such a connexion,—a difference not merely of taste, but of principle; for I fear he is not yet a real Christian, and I hope Eliza will never so violate a positive Scripture command, or disregard her own happiness, as to forget that union of heart on this point is indispensable."

CHAPTER XXIII.

PHILANTHROPY, THE TRUE NOBILITY.

THE following morning, at an early hour after breakfast, Mr. and Mrs. Curran alighted at the door, and, to the great pleasure of their friends at the Hall, announced their intention of spending the day, if they found them disengaged, as Mr. C. wished to make some inquiries respecting the sale of an estate, in an adjoining county, in which Mr. D'Arcy had some interest.

“We intend,” said Mr. C., " ultimately to settle in Ireland; and were we to consult chiefly our own gratification, we should endeavour to be as near you and our other friends here as possible; but we both wish to be guided in our choice by the prospect of the greatest usefulness, and this would not be attained by sitting down in this neighbourhood and trenching upon your labours. Emily persuaded me, when we discussed our future plan of life, that it was my duty to relinquish the lucrative business my father conducted for so many years; and, as Providence has blessed me with ample property, to devote the vigour of life to what, I hope, we both consider the chief use of wealth—the promotion of the general good. As my health has suffered from too close attention to business, we mean to devote a year or two