ssible dangers.
However,"--now, you must know I can tolerate all men till they come to
"however;"--for it is self-evident that every universal rule must have
its exceptions. But he is so exceedingly accurate, that, if he only
fancies he has said a word too precipitate, or too general, or only half
true, he never ceases to qualify, to modify, and extenuate, till at last
he appears to have said nothing at all. Upon this occasion, Albert was
deeply immersed in his subject: I ceased to listen to him, and became
lost in reverie. With a sudden motion, I pointed the mouth of the pistol
to my forehead, over the right eye. "What do you mean?" cried Albert,
turning back the pistol. "It is not loaded," said I. "And even if not,"
he answered with impatience, "what can you mean? I cannot comprehend how
a man can be so mad as to shoot himself, and the bare idea of it shocks
me."

"But why should any one," said I, "in speaking of an action, venture
to pronounce it mad or wise, or good or bad? What is the meaning of all
this? Have you carefully studied the secret motives of our actions? Do
you understand--can you explain the causes which occasion them, and make
them inevitable? If you can, you will be less hasty with your decision."

"But you will allow," said Albert; "that some actions are criminal, let
them spring from whatever motives they may." I granted it, and shrugged
my shoulders.

"But still, my good friend," I continued, "there are some exceptions
here too. Theft is a crime; but the man who commits it from extreme
poverty, with no design but to save his family from perishing, is he an
object of pity, or of punishment? Who shall throw the first stone at a
husband, who, in the heat of just resentment, sacrifices his faithless
wife and her perfidious seducer? or at the young maiden, who, in her
weak hour of rapture, forgets herself in the impetuous joys of love?
Even our laws, cold and cruel as they are, relent in such cases, and
withhold their punishment."

"That is quite another thing," said Albert; "because a man under the
influence of violent passion loses all power of reflection, and is
regarded as intoxicated or insane."

"Oh! you people of sound understandings," I replied, smiling, "are ever
ready to exclaim 'Extravagance, and madness, and intoxication!' You
moral men are so calm and so subdued! You abhor the drunken man, and
detest the extravagant; you pass by, like the Levite, and thank God,
like the Pharisee, tha