icer, "for the Admiral's invitation, like that
of the Queen, is a command."

"Never mind; pray don't mention my name," rejoined the lieutenant.

"For your own sake I certainly will," was the reply.

At length the hero of a hundred cards stammered out, "Don't say a word
about it; I had a hint to stay away."

"A hint to stay away! Why so?"

"The fact is, I--wasn't invited."

The man who prides himself in his aristocratic acquaintances betrays
little respect for himself. A wise man knows that if he have true
distinction, he must be indebted to himself for it. The shadow of his
own body is more valuable to him than the _substance_ of another man's.
In the mirror of self-examination he beholds the imperfections of his
own doings and virtues, which will not for conscience' sake allow him to
parade his small apparent excellencies or acquisitions before society.

Lord Erskine was a great egotist; and one day in conversation with
Curran he casually asked what Grattan said of himself.

"Said of himself!" was Curran's astonished reply. "Nothing. Grattan
speak of himself! Why, sir, Grattan is a great man. Sir, the torture
could not wring a syllable of self-praise from Grattan; a team of six
horses could not drag an opinion of himself out of him. Like all great
men, he knows the strength of his reputation, and will never condescend
to proclaim its march like the trumpeter of a puppet-show. Sir, he
stands on a national altar, and it is the business of us inferior men to
keep up the fire and incense. You will never see Grattan stooping to do
either the one or the other." Curran objected to Byron's talking of
himself as a great drawback on his poetry. "Any subject," he said, "but
that eternal one of self. I am weary of knowing once a month the state
of any man's hopes or fears, rights or wrongs. I would as soon read a
register of the weather, the barometer up to so many inches to-day and
down so many inches to-morrow. I feel scepticism all over me at the
sight of agonies on paper--things that come as regular and notorious as
the full of the moon."

"In company," says Charron, "it is a very great fault to be more forward
in setting one's-self off and talking to show one's parts than to learn
the worth and to be truly acquainted with the abilities of other men. He
that makes it his business not to know, but to be known, is like a
tradesman who makes all the haste he can to sell off his old stock, but
takes no thought of laying