THERE is no need of descanting long upon the advantages of Friendship. That, indeed, would be to guard How a title that was rich before. friendship may best be preserved is the present question; and a question that is hardly the more easy to determine, for having long and often been agitated. Since the object of this Essay is to promote a friendly intercourse among mankind, it may, to some readers, appear that the fittest method of succeeding would be to point out, in the first place, what means are most conducive to the original production of friendly feelings, and afterwards to propose measures for securing their duration. But there is no paucity of friendships in the world; and if they were but as lasting as they are numerous, we should have no cause to complain. Nature begins with us, and expediency goes on, ever urging us to seek some fellow-travellers in life, who may bear a part of our burden, and beguile the weary way with their kindliness. Even at the very close of our mortal existence, we cannot bear the thought of venturing quite alone into the untried hereafter; but must needs be attended with the prayers, the wishes, and the remembrances of those we are leaving.

On some fond breast the parting soul

relies,

Some pious drops the closing eye requires ;

Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,

Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires.

It is clear that we are none of us indifferent to the kindness of our fellow-creatures; it is unlikely that we shall always be without it; how then, when caught, can it be kept? The fewness of those occasions on which we are brought into personal commerce with those whom we most regard, and the unsatisfactory result of such meetings, are beautifully noticed by Moore.

Oh!

well may we hope, when this short life is gone,

To meet in some world of more permanent bliss ;

For a smile, or a grasp of the handhast'ning on,

Is all we enjoy of each other in this. Perhaps there is somewhat of poetical exaggeration in this stanza, as applied to real friendships,—to the union of hearts that is best worthy of such a name; but it admirably describes the casual exchange of good feeling, which, from recurring between the greatest number of individuals, may be suspected to contribute an equal, if not a superior share, of the pleasure supplied by sociality upon the whole. It is to regulate, then, the introduction of this smile, this grasp of the hand, which the poet instances, that the remarks now commencing are put on We may leave the parent paper. and the child, the brother and the sister, the lover and his beloved, without a doubt of their extracting from each other's society all the good it can bestow, and in the most natural, and, therefore, successful manner. It is those many, and yet fragile ties, which are entwined by an occasional greeting, that require to be strengthened. In a more homely phrase,it is not he who dines or sups with his friend by invitation, or without invitation; it is not the inmate of the same house, or the daily frequenter of the same place, that ought to be circumspect in guiding his social conduct; it is the unfrequent, it is the morning visitor.

The true morning visitor has never been asked for the evening, and probably he never will be. He is not known enough to be admitted into the family circle at a time when all hearts are opened by the genial influence of dinner, and of an escape from the business of the day; or it may be, that he is known too well. Perhaps he has not sense enough to please the father of the family, or staidness enough to satisfy

the mother: perhaps, too, he is wanting in compliments for the daughters, or has too much amiability for his limited income. Very likely he has none of these great disqualifications, but has merely never been invited, and therefore is never remembered in the invitation-cards. In all probability, the fact is, that he has not in his character a sufficient sympathy with that of those whom he visits, and has, nevertheless, nothing in him repulsive enough to make him altogether unwelcome. It may occur, that he has some particular purpose to achieve, which forbids him to drop the acquaintance, inasmuch as a time may come when the nature of it will, as it were, spontaneously undergo a favourable change. A morning visitor will leave his card, although he has found his way up to the drawing-room; for he knows his only hope of being remembered in absence, he knows it to lie chiefly in his power of contributing a ray to the gold-edged glories of the cardrack; he knows when the last new style of engraving is grown oldfashioned, and when the antique black-letter is held a brilliant novelty. But this catalogue of characteristics must be cut short here; or, instead of describing the morning visitor as he is, we shall be prematurely advising him what he ought to be; and, after all, what he ought to be is the gist of this brief paper; so that there can be no harm in coming at once to the point proposed, though we should scorn to do it by surprise.

If a man, not connected with those he visits by any close bands of relationship, whether in blood, or through marriage, or of friendship, whether affectionate or reverential,-if such a man would have his visits agreeable to the visited, let him remember the rule ne quid nimis. Let him go not too often, for that is wearying; nor too seldom, for that is negligent. Let him stay not too long, for then also he is a bore; nor hurry away too soon, for fear of seeming a brute. If it should happen that Mrs Bull is not at home when he calls, let him avoid pressing the maid-servant too closely. The New Monthly Magazine has sufficiently well established

the propriety of telling lies to a morning visitor. But let the rejected be sure to make his speedy re-appearance at the same door; for there is nothing people like so much as to have their knockers always busy, unless to have their pockets always full, and, moreover, to keep themselves always idle. None but a very Goth, a Vandal, a Boeotian, will think of paying a morning visit before one o'clock, or after four; unless, indeed, on a Sunday, when he hopes to find the family not within; in this case, a quarter to one will be no bad hour; provided the people of the house are religious, or are desirous of being considered so. Not after four, however, on any day in the week; for if he smells dinner, he is undone. There are few things men so reluctantly or so seldom forgive, as the forcing them to ask you to dine, when they would rather have you supping with Pluto. If they are people of importance, it is ten to one that you are not worthy of a chair at their table; and, if otherwise, they in all probability have to lament over the want of a suitable repast for you. There is nothing in the house to-day but the fag-end of yesterday's joint; or a dish of hash, with a bull's heart; a yard of tripe, or a stale mackarel, to make up. No: let the morning visitor avoid the discovery of these culinary derelictions; let him turn his back on them, or let him never look his friends in the face.

There is a time of year more fit than any other for morning visits; but it is difficult to ascertain, in this variable climate, at what time that time of year occurs. It is when people are not frozen in their fingers and toes, for then it is hard to be under the necessity of taking one's feet off the fender, and one's hands off the bars. It is when the heat of the weather is not so excessive, as that the entrance of another warm-blooded biped makes the drawing-room perceptibly more like Tartarus. It is when town is not quite empty; for then there would be no gaining admittance: and mere card-leavers are not morning visitors. They pay their respects to the rapper, to the door, to the house, to the servant; or perhaps, it may be said, to the

family, speaking abstractedly; but not to the individuals who compose it. If one calls in full season, one third of those who are visited have not yet escaped from the grasp of Morpheus; another third will not acknowledge that they are up; and the remainder will certainly be shop ping, or sewing, or strutting, or stewing, for some fashionable purpose or other. There is a time when, after the labour of Christmas parties and Christmas pantomimes, all society, with one accord, seems to rest upon its oars; and as the preparations for a Summer tour, or the healthpreserving walk, are not immediately to be undertaken, the worthy gentry are well disposed, in that languid calm which succeeds tumultuous enjoyment, for listening patiently to the vapid compliments, objectless enquiries, and stale news, of that migratory class of persons whose habits are now under considera

tion.

There is another little green spot, too, which your morning visitor may pasture on, between the return to town in November, and the commencement of hostilities, against good hours and good order, in the month ensuing. But it needs a very scandalous turn of wit to satisfy the inordinate appetite of those who have just been buried for a long Summer, quite away from all lies and lions, Even those who can but sport their Autumn week at Brighton, Margate, or Worthing, have but little taste, on their return, for receiving half-hour calls, from half-strangers, unless they be of the most patient order of listeners. Indeed, there is so much hazard in determining upon any particular month in the year, as most fitted for the purposes of the morning visitor, that he must be left to his own discretion, or, if he has none, to that experience which will soon supply him with a quantum suff of it.

Only this let him observe. His conversation, on entering the drawing-room, must infallibly turn upon the immensity of time since he last had the honour of paying his respects there. Indeed, his negligence, he must own, does admit of no excuse; it is altogether unpardonable.

But he must hope for the future, that no such offence will again be chargeable to him. Then there is sure to be some absent relative or acquaintance to be enquired after. Such a subject may lead to the most important results,-perhaps the occupation of a full ten minutes out of the time a morning visitor is allowed. In the event of this consummation, so devoutly to be wished, not occurring, there is always a corps de reserve, Talk of the theatres that are open or that are shut; of the places you have lately seen, or have never but heard of; talk of books that you tried to get through, but could not; or of illnesses that you thought you never would get through, and yet did say Mrs Blank is grown thinner; but if she don't understand that you mean to call her interesting, bolster up your observation, by remarking a great purity of health in her complexion. Put on a grave face on an occasion like this, that you may be thought to speak medically, and not from gallantry. Society is become far too scientific now, for any thing like feeling to be thought decent. We must speak of female beauty as though it were a fossil, and be animated only in de scribing the inanimate kingdom. If a dandy would eulogise a lady's lips, his only way is to hint that a certain flower is like them, and to burst forth into a rapturous echo of the praises which the said flower receiv ed at the last botanical lecture. Science, however, must for a long time be touched on but lightly, by the unintimate morning visitor. People would rather admit him into their family secrets, than acquaint him with their peculiarities of thought on points of erudition. It is in the evening coterie alone that such hallowed topics are broached; and it is inconceivable what profundities of speculation some will descend to, at "the genial hour for burning," and among congenial souls. I heard a noted blue, after applying vinegar-cloths to her head, to lower the pride of some impudent champaign that had found its way there, I heard her assert,-hear it, ye chemists!-that she believed cold to have a positive existence !

But we are giving our morning visitor a broad hint to take up his hat and be off. Well, let him go. He can hardly quit the stage too soon, if he hopes to appear on it often again. Let him, of all things,

make his bow within half-a-minute at most after having said or heard a good thing; by doing so, he goes away welcome; for he leaves his host in a good humour with him, or with himself.

MADAME DE GENLIS' auto-biography has already been quite enough noticed in the periodicals of the day. Every one who has any great anxiety for information, as to the manners and private characters of those whose literary productions are the glory of this age, will long before now have sated his curiosity, by perusing those six lively volumes. But there is at the conclusion of the sixth an interpolation, quoted from a previous work of the same author's, that appears to us more interesting than most of the new matter it is annexed to. The passage alluded to is an examination of the claim preferred by men to a mental superiority over the fair sex. This kind of dispute may at first sight appear not only idle, but reprehensible; for it has been said, with much propriety, and admitted on all hands, that since man and woman are both of them indispensably necessary to each other's existence and enjoyment, there is something highly injudicious in any attempt to set one over the other, so as to produce in either a sense of inferiority or of independence, which might damp emulation or lull activity. Yet the question which Madame de Genlis has discussed, and, as will be shown, not quite satisfactorily, is one which by no means can include a general consideration of the comparative worth and rank of the two sexes. Her remarks have reference only to the power which men and women respectively possess, of exhibiting those intellectual displays which constitute what is termed Literature. Perhaps to say thus much is a little over-interpreting her; but if her meaning be otherwise than as here stated, it can hardly be reasonable or modest. The station, the

VOL. XVIII.

Yet while this is aknowledged, it must be confessed, at the same time, that the greater share of that nobleness of mind, and that dignity of purpose, by which man is characterised, has origin in the relation he bears to his less-aspiring partner; and, accordingly, the difference at first implied dwindles away to a mere nominal distinction; since it becomes apparent, that whatever great qualities woman may want, she still is able to produce them all in man. Here, then, let the great bone of contention be removed; or let us rather say, it is here equally parted between the combatants; and, therefore, requiescant in pace; they are Arcades ambo."

66

The Countess de Genlis, much to the credit of her candour, since she herself is an authoress of no mean pretensions, freely owns that the actually existing superiority which men of letters have over female authors, is perfectly evident and indisputable; but she strangely shrinks back from the inference which naturally follows this admission. She owns that men do write better than women; nay, she owns that it is not expedient, or, at least, not necessary, that the case should be otherwise: yet still she rigidly perseveres in at3 N

tributing to her sex a capacity which has not been evinced, and which there is no reason for wishing to have been so. "Genius," she says, and of course she means what is usually known by the name, "is composed of all the qualities women are admitted to possess, and which they may be endowed with in the highest degree,-fancy, sensibility, and elevation of soul. The want of study and education having at all times kept women apart from the career of literature, they have shewn their greatness of soul, not by describing historical facts in their writings, or by bringing forth ingenious fictions of fancy, but by real actions; they have done better than describe, they have often, by their conduct, furnished the models of sublime heroism. Now, though the component parts of genius may exist in the female mind, it is by no means a necessary consequence that genius itself is to be found there. The ingredient will form a given compound only when mixed in due quantities, and under certain favourable circum

its mental inferiority; but to refute this thread-paper argument, one need only refer to man's proud dominion over the brute, and the relative powers of muscle and of mind will be shewn in the clearest possible light. If the wild beast of the fo rest, with all his gigantic strength, is unable to lord it over us diminutive, unarmed, and soft-skinned creatures of human mould, it is utterly ridiculous to suppose that either sex could ever secure a permanent elevation over the other by any means but intellectual ones. The truth is, that the disposition of wo man herself has tended fully as much as the opinion of her natural guide and protector, to keep her secluded from the proud and boisterous contests for literary fame. There appears, and the generality of women in all ages have thought so, a degree of forwardness and immodesty in a female's heart pouring forth its ardour, and discovering its inmost recesscs, before the whole wide-staring world. That women have the power of instructing by their literary effusions there is no doubt; but they may do far more service of the same kind, and far more consistently with the innate mildness and delicacy that belongs to them, by limiting their precept to conversation, and enforcing those precepts by example, instead of by argument. They are born to give life, and to live among the beings they give birth to. All ethical writers of any worth have agreed in assigning their offices to them, and many have prescribed these alone. Certain it is, however, that so soon as any other kinds of employment have weaned a woman's regard from the performance of domestic duties, a departure has been made from propriety, and, as usual, with a certain loss of enjoyment. The Countess de Genlis seems to be virtually of the same opinion as here expressed, for she notices the merit of her sex, in most commonly preferring actions to words. They have done better," she says, "than describe; they have often, by their conduct, furnished the models of sublime heroism." This is perfectly true; yet there still is one great fault in the sentence. It is worded (making all meet allowances for

stances. There is no need for us to deny that the quality exists; but, for the sake of logic, or right reasoning, it must be denied, that the existence of that quality has been proved. Proceeding upon the argument urged above, it may be remarked, that the very same constituents as form the air we breathe, are capable of conbining into a body altogether inimical to animal life; so that it is not always the matter, but sometimes the mode, which is most to be considered. The circumstance of women's having at all times been kept apart from the career of literature, affords a strong presumption that they are not culculated to enter on it. The want of study and education is in itself a fact sufficiently manifesting a natural unfitness for pursuits to which they are indispensable. Few universal customs, few general ones, are founded in error.

po

Vox puli, vox Dei, is certainly not an expression that can be called vor et præterea nihil. What is generally approved of, is generally beneficial. Some women have gone the strange length of asserting, that it is only by the superior bodily force of man that the softer sex has been subdued into