The celebrated Voiture, one of the _beaux esprits_ of the age of Louis XIII. had lost all his money, and had an immediate call for 200 pistoles. He wrote to the Abbe Costar, his faithful friend. This admirable letter presents us with a trait of that confidence and frankness, which sincere friendship inspires. It was this. ‘I yesterday lost all my money, and 200 pistoles more, which I have promised to pay today. If you have that sum, do not fail to send it. If not, borrow it. Obtain it, as you may, you must lend it me. Be careful, to allow no one to anticipate you, in giving me this pleasure. I should be concerned lest it might affect my love for you. I know you so well, that I am aware, you would find it difficult to console yourself. To avoid this misfortune, rather sell what will raise it. You see how imperious my love for you is. I take a pleasure in conducting in this manner towards you. I feel, that I should have a still greater, if you would be as frank with me. But you have not my courage in this point. Judge, if I am not perfectly assured in regard to you, since I will give my promise to him, who shall bring the money.’ The Abbe Costar replied--‘I feel extreme joy, to be in condition to render you the trifling service, you ask of me. I had never thought, that one could purchase so much pleasure for 200 pistoles. Having experienced it, I give you my word, that, for the rest of my life, I will retain a little capital, always ready for your occasions. Order confidently at your pleasure. You cannot take half the satisfaction in commanding, that I shall in obeying. But submissive as you may find me in other respects, I shall be revolted, if you wish to compel me to take a promise from you.’ Note 37, page 128. Although I do not intend to cite in this place the story of Damon and Pythias, nor to harp upon discussions of a theme, upon which there has been more odious prosing, and more semblance of sentiment than all others, yet a subject, intrinsically of the first importance, and founded in nature, can never cease to have claims upon attention, in consequence of having been hackneyed to thread-bare triteness. There is such an affection, as friendship. It belongs to man, and is the highest honor of his nature, less gross and terrene, than the short epilepsy, the transient and fitful fever of the senses, commonly dignified with the name of love, and warmer, more exhilarating, and elevated, than mere esteem, and common liking; it excites, without inflaming; it thrills, without jealousy, corroding fear, or morbid solicitude. It is that sentiment, which a poet would naturally assign to intellectual beings of a higher order, who were never invested with the corporeal elements of mortality.