ably came to
a climax in an impertinence and was extinguished by a box on the ear, or
some such rebuff, and he began on a sudden to hate her with a fervour much
more genuine than that of his love had been. It was a feeble, puny grimace
of love, and paltering with passion. After Mr. Pope had sent off one of
his fine compositions to Lady Mary, he made a second draft from the rough
copy, and favoured some other friend with it. He was so charmed with the
letter of Gay's, that I have just quoted, that he had copied that and
amended it, and sent it to Lady Mary as his own. A gentleman who writes
letters _a deux fins_, and after having poured out his heart to the
beloved, serves up the same dish _rechauffe_ to a friend, is not very much
in earnest about his loves, however much he may be in his piques and
vanities when his impertinence gets its due.

But, save that unlucky part of the Pope Correspondence, I do not know, in
the range of our literature, volumes more delightful.(124) You live in
them in the finest company in the world. A little stately, perhaps; a
little _apprete_ and conscious that they are speaking to whole generations
who are listening; but in the tone of their voices--pitched, as no doubt
they are, beyond the mere conversation key--in the expression of their
thoughts, their various views and natures, there is something generous,
and cheering, and ennobling. You are in the society of men who have filled
the greatest parts in the world's story--you are with St. John the
statesman; Peterborough the conqueror; Swift, the greatest wit of all
times; Gay, the kindliest laugher--it is a privilege to sit in that
company. Delightful and generous banquet! with a little faith and a little
fancy any one of us here may enjoy it, and conjure up those great figures
out of the past, and listen to their wit and wisdom. Mind that there is
always a certain _cachet_ about great men--they may be as mean on many
points as you or I, but they carry their great air--they speak of common
life more largely and generously than common men do--they regard the world
with a manlier countenance, and see its real features more fairly than the
timid shufflers who only dare to look up at life through blinkers, or to
have an opinion when there is a crowd to back it. He who reads these noble
records of a past age, salutes and reverences the great spirits who adorn
it. You may go home now and talk with St. John; you may take a volume from
your librar