Brutus desires Cassius to "go show his slaves how choleric he is, and make his bondmen tremble;" implying that it was still more vulgar and degrading to go into a passion before servants. This notion prevails amongst a certain class of the choleric to this day. It is not at all uncommon in genteel families, where appearances must at all sacrifices be kept up, for John to be desired to shut the door, and perhaps to be despatched to the remotest part of the house, while his master and mistress sit down to fight out a pitched battle with bated breath; whispering their fierce retorts, and dealing out their virulence _sotto voce_, that it may not reach the kitchen; recrimination, with savage aspect, speaking in the blandest key, and threats of separate maintenance breathing in tones that would have added a delicious tenderness to the fondest sentiment. All of a sudden, perhaps, a violent crash is heard; the lady, who "could bear it no longer," has commenced some sportive sallies with the tea-cups, and the gentleman has promptly followed in some equally lively experiments with the saucers; and John, when in wild alarm he re-enters the apartment, perceives in an instant, as clear as crockery itself, that naughty Dash has _not_ been jumping upon the tea-table, and that it is _not_ that calumniated quadruped by whom the best blue-and-gold service has been devoted to destruction. All these tamperings with passion are great mistakes; there can be no enjoyment but in speaking out, and letting all the world hear if they like. I always admired the unhesitating frankness of that respectable tradesman (I forget his name, purposely) who about nine one summer morning, after "some words" with his lady respecting the comparative merits of Souchong and Mocha, deliberately opened the first floor window, and dashed out the whole breakfast set, tray and all, into one of the leading streets of the metropolis. People, it is said, put up their umbrellas as they pass, to this day, in constant expectation of a milky shower, with small squares of sugar for hailstones. But all such experiments with cups and saucers, glasses, vases, mirrors, &c., are much better performed, for obvious reasons, at other people's houses than at your own. It is very pleasant, and quite pardonable, to sweep a few glasses off the table in a fit of enthusiasm, now and then--when you are dining out; but it is perfectly ridiculous to proceed to such extremities at home, where the modes of venting rage are infinite. For a somewhat similar reason, I differ from those who systematically tear their own hair when they fall into a paroxysm; there is no occasion for it, because you might happen to be wearing a wig, and the effect would be ludicrous. It is far better to thrust your hand desperately into the loose locks of somebody sitting next to you, tearing them violently for the space of an instant, and then apologizing for the wildness of your excitement, and