their good fortune! When we bring home to ourselves the situation of his companions, we enter into their gratitude, and feel what consolation they must derive from the ten|der sympathy of so affectionate a friend. And for a contrary reason, how disagree|able does he appear to be, whose hard and obdurate heart feels for himself only, but is altogether insensible to the happiness or misery of others! We enter, in this case too, into the pain which his presence must give to every mortal with whom he con|verses, to those especially with whom we are most apt to sympathize, the unfortu|nate and the injured.
On the other hand, what noble pro|priety and grace do we feel in the con|duct of those who, in their own case, exert that recollection and self-command which constitute the dignity of every passion, and which bring it down to what others can enter into. We are disgusted with that clamorous grief, which, without any de|licacy, calls upon our compassion with sighs and tears and importunate lamenta|tions. But we reverence that reserved, that silent and majestic sorrow, which dis|covers itself only in the swelling of the eyes,
