n the vale of humility amid the modest
flowers of virtue and favoured with the presence of the Holy One, he
would lift into the Utopian heights of vanity and pride, that they might
fall into the condemnation of the Devil. He gathers all good opinions
and approving sentiments that he might carry them to his prey, losing
nothing in weight and number during their transit. He is one of Fame's
best friends, helping to furnish her with some of her strongest and
richest rumours. But conscience has not a greater adversary; for when it
comes forth to do its office in accusation or reproof, he anticipates
its work, and bribes her with flattering speech. Like the chamelion, he
changes his appearance to suit his purpose. He sometimes affects to be
nothing but what pleases the object of his admiration, whose virtues he
applauds and whose imperfections he pretends it to be an advantage to
imitate. When he walks with his friend, he would feign have him believe
that every eye looks at him with interest, and every tongue talks of him
with praise--that he to whom he deigns to give his respects is graced
with peculiar honour. He tells him he knows not his own worth, lest he
should be too happy or vain; and when he informs him of the good
opinions of others, with a mock-modesty he interrupts himself in the
relation, saying he must not say any more lest he be considered to
flatter, making his concealment more insinuating than his speech. He
approaches with fictitious humility to the creature of his praise, and
hangs with rivetted attention upon his lips, as though he spake with the
voice of an oracle. He repeats what phrase or sentence may particularly
gratify him, and both hands are little enough to bless him in return.
Sometimes he extols the excellencies of his friend in his absence, but
it is in the presence of those who he is pretty certain will convey it
to his ears. In company, he sometimes _whispers_ his commendations to
the one next him, in such a way that his friend may hear him in the
other part of the room.

The Flatterer is a talker who insinuates himself into every circle; and
there are few but are fond of his fair speech and gaudy praise. He
conceals himself with such dexterousness that few recognise him in his
true character. Those with whom he has to do too frequently view him as
a friend, and confide in his communications. What door is not open to
the man who brings the ceremonious compliments of praise in buttery lips
and