of
the epicureans; and such is the flatterer of himself. Every other
enjoyment malice may destroy; every other panegyrick envy may withhold;
but no human power can deprive the boaster of his own encomiums. Infamy
may hiss, or contempt may growl, the hirelings of the great may follow
fortune, and the votaries of truth may attend on virtue; but his
pleasures still remain the same; he can always listen with rapture to
himself, and leave those who dare not repose upon their own attestation,
to be elated or depressed by chance, and toil on in the hopeless task of
fixing caprice, and propitiating malice.

This art of happiness has been long practised by periodical writers,
with little apparent violation of decency. When we think our
excellencies overlooked by the world, or desire to recall the attention
of the publick to some particular performance, we sit down with great
composure and write a letter to ourselves. The correspondent, whose
character we assume, always addresses us with the deference due to a
superior intelligence; proposes his doubts with a proper sense of his
own inability; offers an objection with trembling diffidence; and at
last has no other pretensions to our notice than his profundity of
respect, and sincerity of admiration, his submission to our dictates,
and zeal for our success. To such a reader, it is impossible to refuse
regard, nor can it easily be imagined with how much alacrity we snatch
up the pen which indignation or despair had condemned to inactivity,
when we find such candour and judgment yet remaining in the world.

A letter of this kind I had lately the honour of perusing, in which,
though some of the periods were negligently closed, and some expressions
of familiarity were used, which I thought might teach others to address
me with too little reverence, I was so much delighted with the passages
in which mention was made of universal learning--unbounded genius--soul
of Homer, Pythagoras, and Plato--solidity of thought--accuracy of
distinction--elegance of combination--vigour of fancy--strength of
reason--and regularity of composition--that I had once determined to lay
it before the publick. Three times I sent it to the printer, and three
times I fetched it back. My modesty was on the point of yielding, when
reflecting that I was about to waste panegyricks on myself, which might
be more profitably reserved for my patron, I locked it up for a better
hour, in compliance with the farmer's prin