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only a postponed auto de fé. And all this hateful irreligion for the sake of religion! How truly may Christianity exclaim -“I fear not mine enemies, but save, oh! save me from my pretended friends."
AVARICE—The mistake of the old, who begin multiplying their attachments to the earth, just as they are going to run away from it, thereby increasing the bitterness without protracting the date of their separation. What the world terms avarice, however, is sometimes no more than a compulsory economy; and even a wilful penuriousness is better than a wasteful extravagance. Simonides being reproached with parsimony, said he would rather enrich his enemies after his death, than borrow of his friends in his lifetime.
There are more excuses for this “old gentlemanly vice," than the world is willing to admit. Its professors have the honor of agreeing with Vespasian, that—“ Auri bonus est odor ex re qualibet," and with Dr. Jolinson, who maintained that a man is seldom more beneficially employed, either for himself or others, than when he is making money. Wealth, too, is power, of which the secret sense in ourselves, and the open homage it draws from others, are doubly sweet, when we feel that all our other powers, and the estimation they procured us, are gradually failing. Nor is it any trifling advantage, in extreme old age, still to have a pursuit that gives an interest to existence; still to propose to ourselves an object, of which every passing day advances the accomplishment, and which holds out to us the pleasure of success, with hardly a possibility of failure, for it is much more easy to make the last plum than the first thousand. So far from supposing an old miser to be inevitably miserable, in the Latin sense of the word, it is not improbable that he may be more happy than his less penurious brethren. No one but an old man who has withstood the temptation of avarice, should be allowed to pronounce its unqualified condemnation.
BACHELOR--one who is so fearful of marrying, lest his wife should become his mistress, that he not unfrequently
finishes his career by converting his mistress into a wife. "A married man,” said Dr. Johnson, “has many cares; but a bachelor has no pleasures.” Cutting himself off from a great blessing, for fear of some trifling annoyance, he has rivalled the wiseacre who secured himself against corns by amputating his leg. In his selfish anxiety to live unincumbered, he has only subjected himself to a heavier barthen; for the passions, who apportion to every individual the load that he is to bear through life, generally say to the calculating bachelor—“As you are a single man, you shall carry double.”
We may admire the wit, without acknowledging the truth of the repartee utterd by a bachelor, who, when his friend . reproached him for his celibacy, adding that bachelorship ought
to be taxed by the Government, replied, " There I agree with you, for it is quite a luxury !”.
BAIT-one animal impaled upon a hook, in order to torture a second, for the amusement of a third. Were the latter to change places, for a single day, with either of the two for- . mer, which might generally be done with very little loss to society, it would enable him to form a better notion of the pastime he is in the habit of pursuing.-N. B. To make some approximation towards strict retributive justice, he should gorge the bait, and his tormenter should have all the humanity of an experienced angler !
BALLADS—Vocal portraits of the national mind. The people that are without them may literally be said not to be worth an old song. The old Government of France was well defined as an absolute monarchy, moderated by songs; and the acute Fletcher of Saltoun was so sensible of their importance, as to express a deliberate opinion, that if a man were permitted to make all the ballads, he need not care who made the laws of a nation. They who deem this an exaggerated notion, will do well to recollect the silly ballad of Lilliburlero, the noble author of which publicly boasted, and without much extravagance in the vaunt, that he had rhymed King James out of his dominions.
Tom. —Ah, Bill! I'm quite tired of the dissipation of the gay and fashionable world. I think I shall marry and settle.
Bill.–Well, I'm devilish sick of a bachelor's life myself, but I don't like the idea of throwing myself away in a hurry.
BANDIT—an unlegalized soldier, who is hanged for doing that which would get him a commission and a medal, had he taken the king's money, instead of that of travellers. “Ille crucem sceleris pretium tulit, hic diadema."
BAR—INDEPENDENCE OF THE—Like a ghost, a thing much talked of and seldom seen. If a barrister possesses any professional or moral independence, it cannot be worth much, for a few guineas will generally purchase it. It must be confessed that he is singularly independent of all those scruples which operate upon the consciences of other men. Right and wrong, truth and falsehood, morality and profligacy, are all equally indifferent to him. Dealing in law, not justice, his brief is his bible, the ten guineas of his retaining fee are his decalogue; his glory, like that of a cook-maid, consists in wearing a silk gown, and his heaven is in a judge's wig. Head, heart, conscience, body and soul, all are for sale; the forensic bravo stands to be hired by the highest bidder, ready to attack those whom he had just defended, or defend those whom he had just attacked, according to the orders he may receive from his temporary master. Looking to the favor of the judge for favor with their clients, and to the government for professional promotion, barristers have too often been the abject lickspittles of the one, and the supple tools of the other.
M. de la B- , a French gentleman, seems to have formed a very correct notion of the independence of the bar. Haying invited several friends to dine on a maigre day, his servant brought him word that there was only a single salmon left in the market, which he had not dared to bring away, because it had been bespoken by a barrister.—“Here," said his master, putting two or three pieces of gold into his hand, “go back directly, and buy me the barrister and the salmon
BARRISTER—a legal servant of all work. One who sometimes makes his gown a cloak for brow beating and putting down a witness, who, but for this protection, might oc