unkind
observation on some other lady to feed her vanity. These unhappy effects
of affectation naturally led me to look into that strange state of mind
which so generally discolours the behaviour of most people we meet
with."

"The learned Dr. Burnet, in his 'Theory of the Earth,' takes occasion to
observe that every thought is attended with a consciousness and
representativeness; the mind has nothing presented to it but what is
immediately followed by a reflection of conscience, which tells you
whether that which was so presented is graceful or unbecoming. This act
of the mind discovers itself in the gesture, by a proper behaviour in
those whose consciousness goes no farther than to direct them in the
just progress of their present state or action; but betrays an
interruption in every second thought, when the consciousness is employed
in too fondly approving a man's own conceptions; which sort of
consciousness is what we call affectation.

"As the love of praise is implanted in our bosoms as a strong incentive
to worthy actions, it is a very difficult task to get above a desire of
it for things that should be wholly indifferent. Women, whose hearts are
fixed upon the pleasure they have in the consciousness that they are the
objects of love and admiration, are ever changing the air of their
countenances, and altering the attitude of their bodies, to strike the
hearts of their beholders with new sense of their beauty. The dressing
part of our sex, whose minds are the same with the sillier part of the
other, are exactly in the like uneasy condition to be regarded for a
well-tied cravat, a hat cocked with an uncommon briskness, a very
well-chosen coat, or other instances of merit, which they are impatient
to see unobserved.

"This apparent affectation, arising from an ill-governed consciousness,
is not so much to be wondered at in such loose and trivial minds as
these; but when we see it reign in characters of worth and distinction,
it is what you cannot but lament, not without some indignation. It
creeps into the hearts of the wise man as well as that of the coxcomb.
When you see a man of sense look about for applause, and discover an
itching inclination to be commended; lay traps for a little incense,
even from those whose opinion he values in nothing but his own favour;
who is safe against this weakness? or who knows whether he is guilty of
it or not? The best way to get clear of such a light fondness for
applause