vey the same thoughts with the same graces, and who, when he
translates, changes nothing but the language[1].

[1] Much research on this branch of literature is exhibited in Lord
Woodhouselee's Principles of Translation.

No. 70. SATURDAY, AUGUST 18, 1759.

Few faults of style, whether real or imaginary, excite the malignity of
a more numerous class of readers, than the use of hard words.

If an author be supposed to involve his thoughts in voluntary obscurity,
and to obstruct, by unnecessary difficulties, a mind eager in pursuit of
truth; if he writes not to make others learned, but to boast the
learning which he possesses himself, and wishes to be admired rather
than understood, he counteracts the first end of writing, and justly
suffers the utmost severity of censure, or the more afflictive severity
of neglect.

But words are hard only to those who do not understand them; and the
critick ought always to inquire, whether he is incommoded by the fault
of the writer or by his own.

Every author does not write for every reader; many questions are such as
the illiterate part of mankind can have neither interest nor pleasure in
discussing, and which, therefore, it would be an useless endeavour to
level with common minds, by tiresome circumlocutions or laborious
explanations; and many subjects of general use may be treated in a
different manner, as the book is intended for the learned or the
ignorant. Diffusion and explication are necessary to the instruction of
those who, being neither able nor accustomed to think for themselves,
can learn only what is expressly taught; but they who can form
parallels, discover consequences, and multiply conclusions, are best
pleased with involution of argument and compression of thought; they
desire only to receive the seeds of knowledge which they may branch out
by their own power, to have the way to truth pointed out, which they can
then follow without a guide.

The Guardian directs one of his pupils, "to think with the wise, but
speak with the vulgar." This is a precept specious enough, but not
always practicable. Difference of thoughts will produce difference of
language. He that thinks with more extent than another will want words
of larger meaning; he that thinks with more subtilty will seek for terms
of more nice discrimination; and where is the wonder, since words are
but the images of things, that he who never knew the original should not
know the copies?

Yet