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gorgeous--full of all noble and generous thoughts, with room to
expand--or dwellings of pretensions, show, and meanness--or hovels of
all dirt and slovenliness; yet is there scarcely one in which conscience
does not walk in and out boldly, or steal in cautiously, though she may
not always have room to move her arms about her, and assert her
presence. Yet even when circumscribed by narrowness, and immured in all
unseemly things, will she patiently watch her time for some appropriate
touch, or some quiet sound of her voice. Her most difficult scene of
action, however, is in the bosom of pretension; for there the trumpet of
self-praise is ever sounding to overwhelm her voice, and she is kept at
arm's-length from the touch of the guilty hearts, by the padding and the
furniture that surround them. But oh! the hypocrites of this life--they
almost make one weary of it; they who walk with their hands as if ever
weighing, by invisible scales, with their scruples of conscience their
every thought, word, and action. Shall I portray the disgusting effigies
of one? "Niger est--hunc tu, Romane, caveto." I will, however, tell you
somewhat of one that has lately come across my path, and I will call him
Peter Pure; for he is one of those that, though assuming a quietness, is
really rabid in politics, and has ever upon his lips "purity of
election," and the like cant words. A few years ago his circumstances not
being very flourishing, he got the ear of our generous friend of the
Grange; through his timely assistance, and a pretty considerable loan, he
overcame his difficulties, and is now pretty well to do. At the last
contest for the borough, our friend T. of the Grange, with others, waited
upon Peter Pure; and Peter, with large professions of gratitude--as how
could he do less for so kind a benefactor?--unhesitatingly promised his
vote. At this time, be it observed, there was not the slightest
appearance of the contest which afterwards came, and with that storm a
pretty good shower of bribery. What quantity of this shower fell to Peter
Pure's share, was never discovered; but it is easy to conjecture that so
nice, so grateful a conscience was not overcome for nothing. Peter never
liked cheap sins. The contest came, the election takes place, and Peter
Pure's plumper weighs down the adversary's scale. Soon after this he had
the impudence to accost his benefactor thus:--"My dear friend and
benefactor, and worthy sir, I wished for this opp