tion of Horace, of which he tore off gradually a couple of pages, carried them with him to that necessary place, read them first, and then sent them down as a sacrifice to Cloacina. This was so much time fairly gained; and I recommend to you to follow his example. It is better than only doing what you cannot help doing at those moments; and it will make any book, which you shall read in that manner, very present in your mind. Books of science and of a grave sort, must be read with continuity; but there are very many, and even very useful ones, which may be read with. advantage by snatches; such are all the good Latin poets, except Virgil in his Æneid; and such are most of the modern poets, in which you will find many pieces worth reading, that will not take up above seven or eight minutes. Bayle's, Moreri's, and other dictionaries, are proper books to take and shut up for the little intervals of (otherwise) idle time, that every body has in the course of the day, between either their studies or their pleasures. Good night."

LETTER XXIX.

A letter from Bishop Atterbury to his son Obadiah, at Christ Church College in Oxford.

(Containing some useful hints in regard to writing Letters.) Dear Oby,

I THANK you for your letter, because there are manifest signs in it of your endeavouring to excel yourself, and of consequence, to please me. You have succeeded in both respects, and will always succeed, if you think it worth your while to consider what you write, and to whom, and let nothing, though of a trifling nature, pass through your pen negligently; get but the way of writing correctly and justly, time and use will teach you to write readily afterwards; not but too much care may give a stiffness to your style, which ought, in all letters, by all means to be avoided; the turn of them should be always natural and easy, for they are an image of private and familiar conversation. I mention this with respect to the four or five lines of your's which have an air of poetry, and do therefore naturally resolve themselves into blank verses. I send you your letter again, that you may now make the same observation. But you took the hint of that thought from a poem, and it is no wonder, therefore, that you heightened the phrase a little when you were expressing

it. The rest is as it should be ; and particularly, there is an air of duty and sincerity, which, if it comes from your heart, is the most acceptable present you can make me. With these good qualities, an incorrect letter would please me, and without them, the finest thoughts and language will make no lasting impression upon me. The great Being says, you know, My son give me thine heart; implying, that withoutit, all other gifts signify nothing. Let me conjure you, therefore, never to say any thing, either in a letter or in common conversation, that you do not think; but always to let your mind and your words go together on the most trivial occasions. Shelter not the least degree of insincerity under the notion of a compliment, which, as far as it deserves to be practised by a man of probity, is only the most civil and obliging way of saying what you really mean; and whoever employs it otherwise, throws away truth for breeding. I need not tell you how little this character gets by such an exchange.

I say not this as if I suspected that in any part of your letter you intended to write what was proper, without any regard to what was true; for I am resolved to believe that you were in earnest from the beginning to the end of it, as much as I am when I tell you that I am,

Your loving Father, &c.

APPENDIX.

ON LETTER WRITING.

BY DR. JOHNSON.

"IT was the wisdom," says a Seneca, "of ancient times, to consider what is most useful as most illustrious." If this rule be applied to works of genius, scarcely any species of composition deserves more to be cultivated than the epistolary style, since none is of more various or frequent use, through the whole subordination of human life.

It has yet happened, that among the numerous writers which our nation has produced, equal perhaps always in force and genius, and of late in elegancy and accuracy, to those of any other country, very few have endeavoured to distinguish themselves by the publication of letters, except such as were written in the discharge of publick trusts, and during the transaction of great affairs; which, though they afford precedents to the minister, and memorials to the historian, are of no use as examples of the familiar style, or models of private correspondence.

If it be inquired by foreigners, how this deficiency has happened in the literature of a country, where all indulge themselves with so little danger in speaking and writing, may we not, without either bigotry or arrogance, inform them, that it must be imputed to our contempt of trifles, and to our due sense of the dignity of the publick? We do not think it reasonable to fill the world with volumes from which nothing can be learned, nor expect that the employments of the busy, or the amusements of the gay, should give way to narratives of our private affairs, complaints of absence, expressions of fondness, or declarations of fidelity.

A slight perusal of the innumerable letters by which the wits of France have signalized their will names, prove, that other nations need not be discouraged from the like attempts

by the consciousness of inability; for surely, it is not very difficult to aggravate trifling misfortunes, to magnify familiar incidents, repeat adulatory professions, accumulate servile hyperboles, and produce all that can be found in the despicable remains of Voiture and Scarron.

Yet as much of life must be passed in affairs considerable only by their frequent occurrence, and much of the pleasure which our condition allows, must be produced by giving ele gance to trifles, it is necessary to learn how to become little without becoming mean, to maintain the necessary inter course of civility, and fill up the vacuities of actions by agreeable appearances. It had therefore been of advantage, if such of our writers as have excelled in the art of decora ting insignificance, had supplied us with a few sallies of innocent gayety, effusions of honest tenderness, or exclamations of unimportant hurry.

Precept has generally been posteriour to performance. The art of composing works of genius has never been taught but by the example of those who performed it by natural vigour of imagination, and rectitude of judgment. As we have few letters, we have likewise few criticisms upon the epistolary style. The observation with which Walsh has introduced his pages of inanity, are such as give him little claim to the rank assigned him by Dryden among the criticks. 66 Letters," says he, 66 are intended as resemblances " of conversation, and the chief excellencies of conversation, "are good humour and good breeding." This remark, equal ly valuable for its novelty and propriety, he dilates and enforces with an appearance of complete acquiescence in his own discovery.

No man was ever in doubt about the moral qualities of a letter. It has been always known that he who endeavours to please, must appear pleased, and he who would not provoke rudeness, must not practise it. But the question among those who establish rules for an epistolary performance, is, how gayety or civility may be properly expressed; as among the criticks in history, it is not contested whether truth ought to be preserved, but by what mode of diction it is best

adorned.

As letters are written on all subjects, in all states of mind, they cannot be properly reduced to settled rules, or described by any single characteristick; and we may safely disentan gle our minds from critical embarrassments, by determining That a letter has no peculiarity but its form, and that nothing

is to be refused admission, which would be proper in any other method of treating the same subject. The qualities of the epistolary style most frequently required, are ease and simplicity, an even flow of unlaboured diction, and an artless arrangement of obvious sentiments. But these directions are no sooner applied to use, than their scantiness and imperfection become evident, Letters are written to the great and to the mean, to the learned and the ignorant, at rest and in distress, in sport and in passion. Nothing can be more improper than ease and laxity of expression, when the importance of the subject impresses solicitude, or the dignity of the per

son exacts reverence.

That letters should be written with strict conformity to nature is true, because nothing but conformity to nature can make any composition beautiful or just. But it is natural to depart from familiarity of language upon occasions not familiar. Whatever elevates the sentiments, will consequently raise the expression; whatever fills us with hope or terrour will produce some perturbation of images, and some figurative distortions of phrase. Wherever we are studious to please, we are afraid of trusting our first thoughts, and endeavour to recommend our opinion by studied ornaments, accuracy of method, and elegance of style.

If the personages of the comick scene be allowed by Horace to raise their language in the transports of anger to the turgid vehemence of tragedy, the epistolary writer may likewise, without censure, comply with the varieties of his matter. If great events are to be related, he may, with all the solemnity of an historian, deduce them from their causes, connect them with their concomitants, and trace them to their consequences. If a disputed position is to be established, or a remote principle to be investigated, he may detail his reasonings with all the nicety of syllogistick method. If a menace is to be averted, or a benefit implored, he may, without any violation of the edicts of criticism, call every power of rhetorick to his assistance, and try every inlet at which love or pity enters the heart.

Letters that have no other end than the entertainment of the correspondents, are more properly regulated by critical precepts, because the matter and style are equally arbitrary, and rules are more necessary, as there is a larger power of choice. In letters of this kind, some conceive art graceful, and others think negligence amiable; some model them by the sonnet, and will allow them no means of delighting