maxim of Pope,' returned Mr Burchell,
'as very unworthy a man of genius, and a base desertion of his own
superiority. As the reputation of books is raised not by their freedom
from defect, but the greatness of their beauties; so should that of
men be prized not for their exemption from fault, but the size of
those virtues they are possessed of. The scholar may want prudence, the
statesman may have pride, and the champion ferocity; but shall we
prefer to these the low mechanic, who laboriously plods on through life,
without censure or applause? We might as well prefer the tame correct
paintings of the Flemish school to the erroneous, but sublime animations
of the Roman pencil.'

'Sir,' replied I, 'your present observation is just, when there are
shining virtues and minute defects; but when it appears that great
vices are opposed in the same mind to as extraordinary virtues, such a
character deserves contempt.' 'Perhaps,' cried he, 'there may be some
such monsters as you describe, of great vices joined to great virtues;
yet in my progress through life, I never yet found one instance of their
existence: on the contrary, I have ever perceived, that where the mind
was capacious, the affections were good. And indeed Providence
seems kindly our friend in this particular, thus to debilitate the
understanding where the heart is corrupt, and diminish the power where
there is the will to do mischief. This rule seems to extend even to
other animals: the little vermin race are ever treacherous, cruel, and
cowardly, whilst those endowed with strength and power are generous,
brave, and gentle.'

'These observations sound well,' returned I, 'and yet it would be easy
this moment to point out a man,' and I fixed my eye stedfastly upon
him, 'whose head and heart form a most detestable contrast. Ay, Sir,'
continued I, raising my voice, 'and I am glad to have this opportunity
of detecting him in the midst of his fancied security. Do you know
this, Sir, this pocket-book?'--'Yes, Sir,' returned he, with a face of
impenetrable assurance, 'that pocket-book is mine, and I am glad you
have found it.'--'And do you know,' cried I, 'this letter? Nay, never
falter man; but look me full in the face: I say, do you know this
letter?'--'That letter,' returned he, 'yes, it was I that wrote that
letter.'--'And how could you,' said I, 'so basely, so ungratefully
presume to write this letter?'--'And how came you,' replied he, with
looks of unparallelled ef