imaginary danger. with any unusual calamity, the nature and extent of which is unknown to us, governed by our terrors, we render its stature gigantic: but, if actuated by an intrepid spirit, we brave and undervalue it: approaching to temerity and overweening confidence, we are apt to lessen it beyond its real size. If a man of plausible manners, dexterous in displaying his genius and understanding, secures your esteem, and an opinion of his being endowed with uncommon abilities, you set no limits to his capacity, and imagining him wiser and more ingenious than he really is, you are almost led to revere him. To explain the cause of these appearances is difficult: yet a conjecture may be hazarded. If we think attentively on any subject, many qualities and properties that may belong to it, or views of the relation it may have to other objects, are often suggested though of their actual existence we are not assured. Yet, if we cannot negatively affirm that they do not belong to it; on the contrary, if they are agreeable to its nature and circumstances, their spontaneous

danger. If we are threatened

appearance in our minds, as connected with it, affords a presumption that they really exist, Our belief, though not absolutely confirmed, is yet swayed by a plausible probability; and what strengthens it still the more, is a reflection on the narrowness of our powers, and the imperfection of our senses. We reason from analogy, and think it impossible that an object should be so completely known to us, as that we can pronounce with certainty that we are intimately acquainted with the whole of its structure; and that qualities agreeing perfectly with its nature do not reside in it, merely because we do not discern them. As we are naturally inclined to action, a state of doubt and suspense is ever accompanied with uneasi ness; we bear uncertainty with reluctance; we must be resolved; and if we cannot prove a negative, even a slight probability will influence our belief. Therefore, since corresponding qualities and relations are presented and engage the attention of our judging faculty, we seldom hesitate, but ascribe them immediately to the cause or object of our emotion. If they are urged

upon us in a lively manner, the impression they make will have a corresponding energy; and according to the energy of the impression, will be our eagerness to decide. But the manner in which objects excite attention depends on the strength of the exciting passion; therefore proportioned to the vehemence of the passion will be our proneness to be convinced. It is also manifest, that, if any object is naturally difficult to be apprehended, and is so complex or delicate, as to elude the acuteness of our discernment, or the intenseness of our inquiry, we are more liable to error in cases of this nature, than in those things that we perceive distinctly. Admiring the man of abilities, we cannot define with accuracy the precise boundaries of his genius; our imagination gives him energies additional to those he exhibits; and it is agreeable to our opinion of his endowments, and consonant to our present temper, to believe him more eminent than he really is. We are apt to judge in the same manner of the qualities of the heart. To the man who amazes us by some feat of personal bravery, we ascribe every heroic virtue,

though he may have never displayed them: and we pronounce liberal, generous, and disinterested, the man who surprizes us by some unexpected beneficence. On the same principles, those who excite our indignation by their ungrateful or inhuman conduct, are supposed to have trampled on every moral obligation; and we load them not only with the infamy of the crime they have committed, but with that of the crimes of which we believe them capable. The size and colour, so to express myself, of the imaginary qualities in this manner attributed to any object, will correspond exactly to the violence of the present emotion, or the obstinacy of our opinion. If our sense of virtue is exceedingly delicate, our indignation and abhorrence of vice will be of proportioned vehemence; and, according to their vehemence, will be the atrocity of the indefinite imaginary qualities ascribed to the object of our abhorrence. If those whose conduct we censure or lament were formerly esteemed by us, surprize and sorrow for our disappointment, and indignation at a change so unexpected, will augment the

violence of our emotion, and thus magnify their offences. Hence friendship, changed by neglect or ingratitude into indifference, grows into a hatred, of all others the most virulent and full of rancour. It is not wonderful, therefore, nor inconsistent with amiable and kind affections, that Hamlet, moved by an exquisite sense of virtue and propriety, shocked and astonished at the ingratitude and guilt of Gertrude, whom he had revered and believed incapable of any blemish, should become apprehensive of the total degeneracy of her nature, and harbour suspicions concerning his father's death. To these suspicions, the suddenness of the event, the extraordinary and mysterious circumstances attending it, together with the character of the present king, give abundant colour. Hence, with a heart full of agony, prepared for the evidence, and willing to receive it, he exclaims,

All is not well

I doubt some foul play.

Had Hamlet been more indifferent in his regard to propriety and moral obligation, he