8.

DEAR Boy: Every excellency, and every virtue, has its kindred vice or
weakness; and if carried beyond certain bounds, sinks into one or the
other. Generosity often runs into profusion, economy into avarice,
courage into rashness, caution into timidity, and so on:--insomuch that,
I believe, there is more judgment required, for the proper conduct of our
virtues, than for avoiding their opposite vices. Vice, in its true light,
is so deformed, that it shocks us at first sight, and would hardly ever
seduce us, if it did not, at first, wear the mask of some virtue. But
virtue is, in itself, so beautiful, that it charms us at first sight;
engages us more and more upon further acquaintance; and, as with other
beauties, we think excess impossible; it is here that judgment is
necessary, to moderate and direct the effects of an excellent cause. I
shall apply this reasoning, at present, not to any particular virtue, but
to an excellency, which, for want of judgment, is often the cause of
ridiculous and blamable effects; I mean, great learning; which, if not
accompanied with sound judgment, frequently carries us into error, pride,
and pedantry. As, I hope, you will possess that excellency in its utmost
extent, and yet without its too common failings, the hints, which my
experience can suggest, may probably not be useless to you.

Some learned men, proud of their knowledge, only speak to decide, and
give judgment without appeal; the consequence of which is, that mankind,
provoked by the insult, and injured by the oppression, revolt; and, in
order to shake off the tyranny, even call the lawful authority in
question. The more you know, the modester you should be: and (by the bye)
that modesty is the surest way of gratifying your vanity. Even where you
are sure, seem rather doubtful; represent, but do not pronounce, and, if
you would convince others, seem open to conviction yourself.

Others, to show their learning, or often from the prejudices of a school
education, where they hear of nothing else, are always talking of the
ancients, as something more than men, and of the moderns, as something
less. They are never without a classic or two in their pockets; they
stick to the old good sense; they read none of the modern trash; and will
show you, plainly, that no improvement has been made, in any one art or
science, these last seventeen hundred years. I would by no means have you
disown your acquaintance with the ancients: but still