But his love of his country seemed not to rise quite to enthusiasm,
when, amidst his rage against tea, he made a smooth apology for the East
India company, as men who might not think themselves obliged to be
political arithmeticians. I hold, though no enthusiastick patriot, that
every man, who lives and trades under the protection of a community, is
obliged to consider, whether he hurts or benefits those who protect him;
and that the most which can be indulged to private interest, is a
neutral traffick, if any such can be, by which our country is not
injured, though it may not be benefited.

But he now renews his declamation against tea, notwithstanding the
greatness or power of those that have interest or inclination to support
it. I know not of what power or greatness he may dream. The importers
only have an interest in defending it. I am sure, they are not great,
and, I hope, they are not powerful. Those, whose inclination leads them
to continue this practice, are too numerous; but, I believe their power
is such, as the journalist may defy, without enthusiasm. The love of our
country, when it rises to enthusiasm, is an ambiguous and uncertain
virtue: when a man is enthusiastick, he ceases to be reasonable; and,
when he once departs from reason, what will he do, but drink sour tea?
As the journalist, though enthusiastically zealous for his country, has,
with regard to smaller things, the placid happiness of philosophical
indifference, I can give him no disturbance, by advising him to
restrain, even the love of his country, within due limits, lest it
should, sometimes, swell too high, fill the whole capacity of his soul,
and leave less room for the love of truth.

Nothing now remains, but that I review my positions concerning the
foundling hospital. What I declared last month, I declare now, once
more, that I found none of the children that appeared to have heard of