enjoyment, by circulating in its channels a stream so insipid.'

At the peace of Amiens, Jeffrey wrote thus to his friend Morehead, 7th
October 1801: 'It is the only public event in my recollection that has
given me any lively sensation of pleasure, and I have rejoiced at it
as heartily as it is possible for a private man, and one whose own
condition is not immediately affected by it, to do. How many parents
and children, and sisters and brothers, would that news make happy?
How many pairs of bright eyes would weep over that gazette, and wet
its brown pages with tears of gratitude and rapture? How many weary
wretches will it deliver from camps and hospitals, and restore once
more to the comforts of a peaceful and industrious life? What are
victories to rejoice at, compared with an event like this? Your
bonfires and illuminations are dimmed with blood and with tears, and
battle is in itself a great evil, and a subject of general grief and
lamentation. The victors are only the least unfortunate, and suffering
and death have, in general, brought us no nearer to tranquillity and
happiness.' It may be well thus to bring the value of a peace before
the public mind. Let those who only know of war from history, reflect
how great must be the evils of a state the cessation of which gives
such a feeling of relief.

Here is a curious passage about the society of Liverpool in 1813, and
his love of his native country. We must receive the statement
respecting the Quakers with something more than doubt, at least as to
the extent to which it is true:--'I have been dining out every day for
this last week with Unitarians, and Whigs, and Americans, and brokers,
and bankers, and small fanciers of pictures and paints, and the Quaker
aristocracy, and the fashionable vulgar, of the place. But I do not
like Liverpool much better, and could not live here with any comfort.