OUR greatest mistake in the pursuit of happiness as well as of science, is to judge by the perceptions of others, and not by our own. This perversion is admirably ridiculed in some comedy, in which a young fellow naturally sober, gives into debaucheries merely because they are fashionable. “I am horrid sick”—says he—“I am tired to death—I hate cards—but it is life for all that!”

My friend, examine your heart—You yourself are the best judge of what contributes to your own happiness. Is the pleasure of shooting equal to the fatigue?... Put down the gun. Is the cry of the hounds a sufficient charm to remove the fear of breaking your neck?... Come off your horse.—And in pure charity let me advise the “impatient fisher” to convert his rod into a walking stick, jemmy, and switch. “For what? Do not gentlemen love country diversions?” But if you do not, why should you be governed by their inclinations?

Mr. Connoisseur, do not pretend raptures at music, you know you have no ear.—Stare not at that picture, you are sensible you have no eye.—Close that book, let others weep; you have no heart. “Sir, it is the taste to admire music, painting, and fine writing.”—I am very glad of it.—But it is not your taste, here

Now confess honestly Mr. Sportsman, that you have more pleasure in Snyder’s pictures, than from hunting in propri person—that the French horns at a concert have more harmony than in a wood. And, Mr. Connoisseur, you are now in your element.—Is it not better to “join the jovial chace” than the insipid crew of the dilettanti?

Let us remember and practice the old maxim.