journals, and if the letters are really well done, it means the sale of
an "extra." No man can hope to write anything which will possess such
general interest as his love letters. If Shakespeare had written
voluminously to his sweetheart--to any of his sweethearts--and the
letters should be found by this generation, what a hue and cry would be
raised over his peaceful ashes!

[Sidenote: Sins of Commission]

Doing the things which ought not to be done never loses fascination and
charm. The rare pleasure thus obtained far exceeds the enjoyment of
leaving undone things which ought to be done. Sins of commission are far
more productive of happiness than the sins of omission.

[Sidenote: For Posterity]

Thus people whose sense of honour would not permit them to read an open
letter which belonged to someone else will go by thousands to purchase
the published letters of some famous man. Dr. Arbuthnot, in speaking of
the publication of letters, said that it added a new terror to death, so
true it is that while a man may think for the present, he unavoidably
writes for posterity.

No passion is too sacred to be hidden from the eagle eye of the public.
The death of anyone of more than passing fame is followed by a volume of
"letters." It is pathetic to read these posthumous pages, which should
have been buried with the hands that wrote them, or consigned to the
never-failing mercy of the flames.

Burial has not always sufficed. The manuscript of one well-known book of
poems was buried with the lady to whom they were written, but in later
years her resting-place was disturbed, with the consent of her lover,
for this very manuscript.

Her golden hair had grown after her death, and was found closely
entwined with the written pages--so closely that it had to be cut. The
loving embrace which Death would not break was rudely forced to yield.
Even in her "narrow house" she might not keep her love letters in peace,
since the public wanted to read what had been written for her alone and
the publisher was waiting for "copy."

[Sidenote: Letters in a Grave]

In a paper of the _Tatler_, written by Addison or Steele, or possibly
by both, is described a party in a country village which is suddenly
broken into confusion by the entrance of the sexton of their parish
church, fresh from the digging of a grave. The sexton tells the
merrymakers how a chance blow of his pickaxe has opened a decayed
coffin, in which are discovered several