University of Virginia Library

What think you of wit, Cleora? If you
estimate it by the worth of your own, you think
it an invaluable jewel. But this jewel is variously
set. Yours is in the pure sterling gold of
good sense: yet, as displayed by some, it glistens
on the mere tinsel of gaiety, which will not bear
the scrutinizing eye of judgment.

Yesterday I received a visit from a young lady,
lately moved into this neighbourhood, who is reputed
a wit. Her conversation reminded me of
Pope's satirical remark:

I found her's to consist in smart sayings, lively
repartees, and ludicrous allusions.

So strong was her propensity to display this
talent, that she could not resist any temptation
which offered, though it led her to offend against
the rules of politeness and generosity. As some
persons of real genius were present, topics of
literature and morality were discussed. Upon
these she was mute as a statue; but whenever
the playfulness of her fancy could find a subject,
she was extremely loquacious. This induced me
to suspect that the brilliance of her imagination

had dazzled her understanding, and rendered her
negligent of the more solid and useful acquisitions
of the mind.

Is it not often the case, that those who are
distinguished by any superior endowment, whether
personal or mental, are too much elated by the
consciousness of their pre-eminence, and think it
sufficient to counterbalance every deficiency?

This, Mrs. Williams used to say, is owing to
the want of self-knowledge; which, if once possessed,
will enable us properly to estimate our
own characters, and to ascertain with precision
wherein we are defective, as well as wherein we
excel. But it is the misfortune of us, young
people, that we seldom attain this valuable science,
till we have experienced many of the ills
which result from the want of it. Ambition,
vanity, flattery, or some such dazzling meteor,
engrosses our attention, and renders us blind to
more important qualifications.

But to return to this same wit, of which I
was speaking. It is certainly a very dangerous
talent, when imprudently managed. None that
we can possess tends so directly to excite enmity,
or destroy friendship.

An ill-natured wit is of all characters the most
universally dreaded. People of this description
are always feared, but rarely loved. Humanity
and benevolence are essentially necessary to render

wit agreeable. Accompanied by these, it
cannot fail to please and entertain.

But I believe I cannot give a better proof of
my own wit, than to conclude this seribble before
your patience is quite exhausted by the perusal.
Adieu.