Honor is a virtue that should inherit the breasts of all men, and is in the opinion of some innate with our nature. It is a virtue, which in the strict sense of the word will be found (in the ordinary occurrences of life) to be all that is requisite to make men happy, from it we may deduce every other virtue, and on this basis rests every degree of social order. But the manner in which it is treated in modern times must be a matter of severe reflection on the degenerate state of mankind, and will point us out as beings born but to view a happy state, which from the stubbornness of our nature, we must not inherit. Among the various works of Antiquity, all seem to have their admirers, whether Painting, History, or Poetry; and their will be found in every age, or nation, that degree of veneration, which seems to hold them as sacred, and gives them at least a superiority over all things modern, yet after this it must be a matter of serious regret, that so much of the principle of moral philosophy, should not be selected as seems to have been the chief ornament of every state, and the most potent staff of every individual. If we look back into the remote pages of History, we find that honor was the foundation of every social virtue. Honor raised kingdoms and protected thrones, Honor united Friends and conquered enemies, and indeed Honor was but another name for virtue's self. Shakespeare seems to have treated it well in the form of Honesty in the quarrel of Brutus and Cassius. He places the impetuous Cassius in an ungovernable rage, with his drawn dagger, threatening the life of his colleague; when Brutus replies with all the coolness of the noble Roman,