but the changes which I have adverted to, imply, I think, that the two former are diminishing in numbers, and gradually elevating themselves into the latter. May the process never stop from any other cause than its completion.

Farewell.

F. R.

LETTER XV.

Integrity of Mind-Scope for the Exercise of this Quality in all the Transactions of Life-Instance of it in a Lover.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

There is nothing in human nature-no quality of mind, no feature of character,-which stands higher in my estimation, than strict and uncompromising integrity. Who does not feel an elevation of soul truly delightful, on witnessing that impartial observance of justice, when a man has to decide between his own claims and those of others, which is so easy when the judge is a disinterested person?

This rigid uprightness is a far rarer quality than humanity or benevolence, and it seems to depend partly on clearness of conception and precision of judgment, as well as on conscientious feeling. There is about many people

who may be styled good sort of men, and who have no particular design to injure others, or unfairly benefit themselves, an indolent indistinctness of apprehension, a careless laxity of thought, which has often all the bad effects of deliberate dishonesty.

I am not alluding merely to pecuniary transactions, although these are the cases in which the possession or the want of integrity is the soonest conspicuous, and the most readily appreciated by vulgar comprehension, but to actions of all kinds. There is scarcely one of our dealings with our fellow-men but admits of fairness and unfairness. In the necessary intercourse of social life—in the commerce of civility, in the pursuits of pleasure, in the affairs of business, in the offices of charity, in the theatre or the ball-room, the street or the tavern-in friendship, in ambition, in love-there are a thousand occasions when no pecuniary interest is at stake, on which there is abundant scope for the exercise of integrity of spirit.

An instance in point lately came to my knowledge, and one not belonging to matters of state or business, but arising out of an affair

of love. A friend of mine, Mr. C——, some time ago conceived an affection for a young lady of his own rank of life; in the opinion of the lady herself, of a rank rather above his. In an unguarded moment, without premeditation, he was led into some proofs of tenderness which he conceived he was in honour bound to follow up with an offer of his hand, before he knew sufficient of the lady's temper, disposition, and other qualities, to justify him in his own cooler judgment for venturing on so important a step. There are moments, you know, when a man relaxes from his usual circumspection; as for instance when the interesting beauty of a female hanging on his arm on a fine summer's evening, or playing on the piano, and looking back with a face upturned to his, radiant with smiles, seduces him into peculiarly soft-toned whispers, or other intelligible intimations that his heart is not quite untouched. Such interesting flirtations may appear but blooming and fragrant wreaths of

which fetter nobody that is entangled in them, except for the evening, and then naturally fade and perish; but they sometimes turn to firm and permanent chains. By some little

advances of this kind, which every one may imagine for himself, C— felt committed, and, entertaining at the same time an admiration not quite platonic for the lady, he followed them up with an explicit declaration of his sentiments. It was received as he wished, and he was thenceforward admitted into the family on the footing of an accepted suitor. He was in an ecstasy of bliss: but there is always something happening to reduce the pulsations of rapture to a more moderate beat. He had seen Matilda hitherto only at balls and parties, where ladies, always perfect, are particularly and expressly so; and (if such things admit of degrees) put on their most engaging looks and most angelic dispositions. He now saw her at home, in familiar intercourse with father and mother, brothers and sisters, and with himself. He saw how she conducted herself amongst the multitudinous casualties of daily life, which it is beneath the dignity of narration to record: the disappointment of anticipated pleasures; requests from father or mother which thwarted rational and innocent inclinations; contests with unreasonable brothers or sisters for some privilege or prece