attain wealth and eminence'; and observes that he is always 'looking back and looking forward,' and wondering 'how he will feel in situations which he anticipates in fancy.' In Corsica he sang Hearts of Oak to the natives, and fancied himself 'a recruiting sea-officer, with his chorus of Corsicans aboard the British fleet.' He rode Paoli's own horse, decked with 'crimson velvet' and 'broad gold lace,' and fancied himself for a moment to be the idol of an enthusiastic population. He is always playing at being something delightful. He makes a vow 'under a solemn yew-tree,' in the garden of his friend Temple, and becomes straightway a model of all the virtues. True, he did not keep it 'religiously,' but that was because 'a little wine hurried him on too much,' He promises Paoli, however, that he will take no wine for a year, and, having kept his promise for three weeks at the time of writing, feels that he is virtually a reformed character. The queerest result of this strange muddle between the ideal and the practical appears in his letters to Temple upon his love affairs. He writes an admirable panegyric upon marriage to his friend, and remarks that he 'looks with horror on adultery.' This, however, is part of a passage
