An anonymous writer of distinguished talent has given an account of one of these pampered beings, which, so far as it regards the uncultivated state of their minds, is admirably descriptive. This writer says, “There is not in the world a more useless, idle animal than he who contents himself with being merely a gentleman. He has an estate, therefore he will not endeavour to acquire knowledge: he is not to labour in any vocation, therefore he will do nothing. But the misfortune is, that there is no such thing in nature as a negative virtue, and that absolute idleness is impracticable. He who does no good, will certainly do mischief; and the mind, if it be not stored with useful knowledge, will certainly become a magazine of nonsense and trifles. Wherefore a gentleman, though he is not obliged to rise to open his shop, or work at his trade, should always find some means of employing his time to advantage. If he makes no advances in wisdom, he will become more and more a slave to folly; and he that does nothing, because he has nothing to do, will become vicious and abandoned, or, at best, ridiculous and contemptible.” It seems doubtful whether it would not prove more disgusting than interesting to the delicate mind, to be made acquainted with some of the artful contrivances and base stratagems those _fine gentlemen_ practise every day for the allurement of the innocent into their fatal snares. But an attempt, perhaps, to unmask these assassins of virtue, these prowlers after human blood, even should it not be very successful, might still be useful to some credulous creatures, thus to apprize them of the precipices they are standing over, and the inevitable destruction to which they are continually exposing themselves in listening to the wily tales of well dissembled but profane love, delivered either with all the ardour of fervent passion, or that whining softness which practised villains know so well how to command.