Most people, however, reverse this beautiful maxim, which breathes the very soul of practical charity, and study to behave to others in a manner suitable to the desert of those persons, while they leave out of the question entirely the propriety and dignity of their own conduct, as if that were a minor, and not the primary consideration! Does not this occur every time we lose our temper? At all events, the maxim applies with peculiar force on board ship, where the character and conduct of every officer are daily and hourly exposed to the searching scrutiny of a great number of persons who have often little else to do but watch the behaviour of one another. It may safely be asserted, indeed, that in no instance whatsoever can we exercise any permanent or useful influence over the opinions, feelings, or conduct of others, unless in our intercourse with them we demean ourselves in a manner suitable to our own station; and this, in fact, which, in the long run, is the measure of all efficient authority, is also the principal circumstance which gives one man the ascendency over another, his equal in talents and information, and whose opportunities are alike. It is probably to the same class of things that one man owes his transcendent popularity and success in society, while another, equally gifted, and enjoying similar opportunities, is shunned or neglected. If we hear a person constantly finding fault—however much reason he may have on his side—we take no pleasure in his company. We soon discover, that if there be two things presented to his view, one which may be made the subject of praise, the other of censure, he will catch at the disagreeable point, and dwell upon it, to the exclusion of that which is agreeable, although the circumstances may not be such as to have required him to express any comparative opinion at all. And as the taste for finding fault unfortunately extends to every thing, small as well as great, constant food is sure to be furnished, at every turn, to supply this disparaging appetite. If the sky be bright and clear, the growler reminds you that the streets are dirty under foot;—if the company be well selected, the dinner good, the music choice, and all things gay and cheerful, he forces upon your attention the closeness of the rooms, the awkward dress of one of the party, or the want of tune in one of the strings of the harp. In speaking of the qualities of a friend, your true snarler is certain to pick out the faults, to dash the merits; and even when talking of himself, he dwells with a morbid pleasure on his want of success in society, his losses in fortune, and his scanty hopes of doing any better in future. The sunshine of day is pale moonlight to such a man. If he sees a Sir Joshua, it is sure to be faded;—the composition and execution he takes care not to look at. If he hears of a great warrior or statesman, whose exploits have won the applause of