The Burlesque. When the wit is employed in delasing what is great and imposing, by applying thereto figures and phrases that are mean and contemptible, it takes the name of burlesque. The pages of Hudibras afford abundant illustra tions of this form of the ludicrous. The battle of Don Quixote and the wind-mills is a burlesque on the ancient tournaments The Mock-Heroic.-The mock-heroic, by a contrary pro cess, provokes the sense of the ridiculous by investing what is inconsiderable and mean with high-sounding epithets and dignified description. The battle of the mice and frogs is an instance of this.

The double Meaning. - Beside the varieties of intentional incongruity of ideas already mentioned, there are certain les important forms of witticism, which can perhaps hardly be classed under any of the foregoing divisions. The whole tribe of double entendres, or double meanings, where one thing is said and another thing is meant, or at least where the apparent and honest is not the only or the real meaning; satire, which is only a modification of the same principle, drawn out into somewhat more extended and dignified discourse, and which, under the form of apparent praise, hides the shafts of ridicule and invective; sarcasm, which conveys the intended censure and invective in a somewhat more in

direct and oblique manner; these are all but various modes of what we have called intentional incongruity of ideas.

This Principle, in what Respects of dangerous Tendency.— Of the value of this principle of our nature, I have as yet said nothing. To estimate it at its true worth, is not alto gether an easy thing. On the one hand, there can be little doubt that, carried to excess, it becomes a dangerous prin ciple. The tendency to view all things, even perhaps the most sacred, in a ludicrous light, and to discover fanciful and remote relations between objects and ideas the most diverse and incongruous, must exert an unhappy influence on the general tone and character of both the mind and the heart. Where wit, or the disposition to the ludicrous, be

comes the predominant quality of the mind, impressing the other and nobler faculties into its lawless service, it must be to the detriment of the mind's highest energies and capaci ties; to the detriment especially of that sincerity and honesty of purpose, and that earnest love of truth, which are the foundation of all true greatness. I speak in this of the excess and abuse of wit; I speak of the mere wit.

Of use to the Mind. On the other hand, the tendency to the ludicrous has its uses in the economy and constitution of our nature, and they are by no means to be overlooked. It gives a lightness and buoyancy, a freshness and life, to the faculties that would otherwise be jaded in the weary march and routine of life. It is to the mind what music is to the soldier on the march. It enlivens and refreshes the spirits. A hearty laugh doeth good like a medicine. A quick and keen perception of the ludicrous, when not permitted to usurp undue control, but made the servitor of the higher powers and propensities, and keeping its true place, not in the fore-front, but in the background of the varied and busy scene, is to be regarded as one of the most fortunate mental endowments.

Wit often associated with noble Qualities.-There is no necessary connection, no connection of any sort, perhaps, between wisdom and dullness, although a great part of mankind have always persisted in the contrary opinion. The laughter-loving and laughter-provoking man is by no means a fool. He who goes through the world, such as it is, and sees in all its caprices, and inconsistencies, and follies, and absurdities, nothing to laugh at, much more justly deserves the suspicion of a lack of sense. "Wit," it has been justly remarked, "is seldom the only eminent quality which resides in the mind of any man; it is commonly accompanied by many other talents of every description, and ought to be considered as a strong evidence of a fertile and superior un derstanding. Almost all the great poets, orators, and states men of all times, have been witty."

Wit as an Instrument for correcting Folly. -- There is one important use of the faculty under consideration, to which I have not as yet alluded. I refer to its power as an instrument for keeping in check the follies and vices of those who are governed by no higher principle than a regard to the good opinion of society, and a fear of incurring the ridicule of an observing and sharp-sighted world. To such, and such there are in multitudes, “the world's dread laugh” is more potent and formidable than any law of God or man. There are, moreover, many lighter foibles and inconsistencies of even good men, for which the true and most effective weapon is ridicule.

Remarks of Sydney Smith. I cannot better conclude my remarks upon this part of our mental constitution, than by citing some very just observations of Sydney Smithhimself one of the keenest wits of the age.

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"I have talked of the danger of wit; I do not mean by that to enter into common-place declamation against faculties, because they are dangerous; wit is dangerous, eloquence is dangerous, a talent for observation is dangerous, every thing is dangerous that has energy and vigor for its characteristics; nothing is safe but mediocrity. But when wit is combined with sense and information; where it is softened by benevolence, and restrained by strong principle; when it is in the hands of a man who can use it and despise it, who can be witty and something much better than witty, who loves honor, justice, decency, good nature, morality, and religion, ten thousand times better than wit; wit is then a beautiful and delightful part of our usture."

§ IIJ.-ENJOYMENT OF THE NEW AND WONDERFUL

Surprise and Ennui. Of that form of surprise which arises in view of the incongruous, and which accompanies the feeling of the ludicrous, I have already had occasion to speak, in treating of that emotion

Or the feeling of sur

prise in general, its nature, and occasions, and also of that feeling to which it stands opposed, and which for want of a better term we may call ennui, I am now to speak.

Definition and nature of Surprise. - Surprise may be de fined as the feeling awakened by the perception of whatever is new and wonderful. It is, in itself considered, an agree able emotion, rather than otherwise. Variety and novelty are usually pleasing; our nature demands them, and is gratified at their occurrence. Monotony, the unbroken thread, and ever-recurring routine of ordinary life and duty, weary, and, after a time, disgust us. Upon this listlessness and lethargy of the mind, a new and unexpected event, as the arrival of a friend, or the reception of some unlooked-for intelligence, breaks in with an agreeable surprise. Hence the eagerness of men, in all ages and all nations, to hear or see some new thing. It is only when the new event or intelligence is of the nature of positive evil, when the news is of some misfortune, real or imagined, when the experience of present, or the fear of future suffering, is the direct and natural result of the occurrence, that the surprise becomes a painful emotion. And even in such cases, I am not quite sure that there is not in the first excitement of the mind upon the reception of bad news, as of the death of a friend, or the calamity of a neighbor, something for the moment, of the nature of pleasure mingling with the pain. We deeply regret the occurrence, but are pleased to have heard the news. The thing grieves us, but not the hearing of it. It is not the surprise that pains us, but the thing at which we are surprised. Surprise, like every other form of mental excitement, is not, in itself, and within due bounds, disagreeable, but the reverse.

How awakened. This emotion is awakened, as already stated, in view of any thing unforeseen and unexpected. We naturally anticipate, to some extent, the course of the future. We presume it will be substantially as the past. We expect the recurrence of what has often and usually oc

curred, and whenever any thing breaks in on this established order of events, we are surprised at the interruption in the ordinary train of sequences. Hence the new and the strange always excite surprise.

Differs from Wonder.- Surprise differs from wonder, in that the latter involves an intellectual element, the effort of the mind to satisfy itself of the cause and proper explanation of the new and strange phenomenon. Surprise is purely a matter of sensibility, of feeling, and not of intellect. The mind is wholly passive under this emotion. It may lead to action, as may any other emotion, but, like every other emotion, it is, in itself, an influence exerted upon the mind, and not by it, something passively rec ived, and not actively put forth.

From Astonishment. It differs from astonishment in that the latter expresses a higher degree of mental excitement, as in view of some occurrence exceedingly remarkable and strange, or of some object whose nagnitude and importance fills the mind.

Design of this Principle.—The end to be accomplished by this provision of our nature is sufficiently obvious. Our attention is thereby called to whatever is out of the ordinary course, and which, from the circumstance that it is something unusual, may be supposed to require attention, and we are put on our guard against the approaching danger, or roused to meet the present emergency. Surprise is the alarm-bell that calls all our energies into action, or at least warns them to be in present readiness for whatever service may be needed. The same principle operates also as a stimulus to exertion in the ordinary affairs of life. We seek new things, we are weary with the old, and this simple law of our na ture is often one of the strongest incitements to effort.

The opposite Feeling.-The opposite of surprise is that uneasy feeling, of which we are conscious, from the constant recurrence of the same objects in unvaried sequence; as, for instance, from the continued repetition of the same sound.