book-worms. The literary polls was once an oligarchy, it is now a
republic. It is the general brilliancy of the atmosphere which prevents
your noticing the size of any particular star. Do you not see that with
the cultivation of the masses has awakened the Literature of the
affections? Every sentiment finds an expositor, every feeling an
oracle. Like Epimenides, I have been sleeping in a cave; and, waking, I
see those whom I left children are bearded men, and towns have sprung up
in the landscapes which I left as solitary wastes."

Thence the reader may perceive the causes of the change which had come
over my father. As Robert Hall says, I think of Dr. Kippis. "He had
laid so many books at the top of his head that the brains could not
move." But the electricity had now penetrated the heart, and the
quickened vigor of that noble organ enabled the brain to stir.
Meanwhile, I leave my father to these influences, and to the continuous
conversations of Uncle Jack, and proceed with the thread of my own
egotism.

Thanks to Mr. Trevanion, my habits were not those which favor
friendships with the idle, but I formed some acquaintances amongst young
men a few years older than myself, who held subordinate situations in
the public offices, or were keeping their terms for the Bar. There was
no want of ability amongst these gentlemen, but they had not yet settled
into the stern prose of life. Their busy hours only made them more
disposed to enjoy the hours of relaxation. And when we got together, a
very gay, light-hearted set we were! We had neither money enough to be
very extravagant, nor leisure enough to be very dissipated; but we
amused ourselves notwithstanding. My new friends were wonderfully
erudite in all matters connected with the theatres. From an opera to a
ballet, from "Hamlet" to the last farce from the French, they had the