perjury, and transported; and it transpires that the robberies which M., his master, had complained of, were effected by S. himself. But the shock has been too much for the nervous system of A. B. afterwards takes C. to visit her; and C. finds her sitting by her mother, beautiful and interesting, but sunk into a state of hopeless idiocy. Now who is there that does not, on reading such a narrative, deeply sympathise with A., her widowed mother, and her lover, and even with the mercer, who, if he was a man of character, must have been distressed beyond measure at the mental anguish which he was prevailed on by deception to inflict? Yet what do we know of the persons who are the subjects of this sad history, but as A., B., C., M., S., &c.

It is, indeed, the more palpable that it is with the sufferings, and not with the sufferer, that we sympathise, when we remember that we sympathise with persons that we know to be fictitious. We may be greatly moved by the sufferings of persons related in tales (such, for example, as the Arabian Nights) so extravagant as to render it impossible to believe them. Who does not sympathise in the sorrows of poor Sinbad the Sailor, and yet who ever believed them? It is not, therefore, with a person that we sympathise, but with sufferings of which we can form some conception from our own experience. If the description of suffering do not recal to us some suffering that we have experienced, it fails of exciting our sympathy. We have no sympathy, for example, with the Spirit of Loda in Ossian, when he was cut in two by the sword of Fingal, except, perhaps, that the shriek which he uttered as "rolled into himself he rose upon the wind," suggests some obscure recollection of anguish of some kind. Neither do we sympathise with the effect of cannon shot on the angels in Paradise Lost, simply because it recals nothing that we have ever experienced, and is, therefore, unintelligible to us. Nothing, therefore, we conceive, can be more evident

than that sympathy for suffering is merely the ordinary operation of the laws of suggestion.

The same observations are equally applicable to the witnessing of causes of happiness operating on others. In these cases, the feeling is too frequently impaired or neutralised by envy, by regret that the happiness which we witness in others is not our own; so that the train of pleasant suggestions or emotions which the witnessing of the joy of others would naturally recal, is often superseded by a train of thought of an opposite description. But when envy is excluded, as it naturally is when we cordially love the person whose joy we witness, then do we rejoice as unfeignedly with those who rejoice as we weep with those who weep.

There is one difference to be noticed between sympathising with pain or distress, and sympathising with pleasure namely, that sympathising with pain is naturally, or even necessarily accompanied with desire to relieve it; whereas sympathising with pleasure is never accompanied with any desire to diminish or extinguish it. The pain of another person becomes, by suggestion, our own pain, and, as we naturally desire to be relieved from our own pain, we, for the same reason, desire to be relieved from the pain of others. relieving others we remove an object that is calling up to us painful emotions. There is no preventing this desire but by inuring ourselves to scenes of human misery, without seeking to relieve it, or, in other words, by hardening the heart.

By

This view of sympathy also accounts for that infectious sympathy which is often witnessed in crowded assemblies. Some cause of alarm arises among an assembled multitude. Every countenance instantly puts on the signals of fear. We cannot turn to any side but we see what recals some object of terror. Screams follow, violent efforts are made by some to escape, all adding to the suggestions of something terrible, till the people, seized

with panic, become frantic, and lose all command of themselves. We remember an incident of this kind in a crowded place of worship. Some crash occurred that gave rise to the apprehension that the house, or at least the gallery, was falling. The congregation were instantly on their feet. Some began to make their way out. The noise was becoming greater every moment. The clergyman, who saw the cause of the crash, and knew there was no danger, endeavoured to calm the people, but his voice was drowned in the confusion and noise. With admirable presence of mind he addressed himself to those who were near him, gave out a psalm to be sung, and got them to join with him in singing it. This sound, which spoke of safety and tranquillity, was powerful enough to reach the extremities of the house. The people who were hurrying out looked back and saw a portion of the congregation quietly sitting engaged in worship; the soothing, and, at the same time, solemnising effect gained the ascendancy, and the people gradually returned to their seats, when the clergyman explained to them the cause of the noise that had so much alarmed them..

Some persons are moved to tears by the pathetic address of an eloquent man, who, if they had heard him alone, would have retained the most perfect composure, but seeing the signs of grief in others, and having grief vividly brought up before them, are shaken; the natural expressions of grief-the tears, the distortions of countenance, the sobs, the wiping of eyes, become more general, and advance in geometric ratio. Every new person caught in the vortex of feeling draws in others, till the whole audience becomes painfully affected; and it is sometimes said of such scenes, not a dry eye was to be seen in the whole assembly, When, however, the sympathetic cause has passed away, the greater part wonder what made them weep and sob, and perhaps are disposed to laugh when they think of it.

So, at a circus or pantomime, a man appears with his face grotesquely painted, arrayed in some fantastical dress, grinning and perhaps assuming the gestures and postures of an idiot—a sort of exhibition which, if seen in a private room, would, unless in an assemblage of children, excite no emotion but contempt and disgust. But, in a crowded assembly, there are always some who are ready to laugh at such fooleries. The laughing countenances of some suggest the emotion of laughter to others, who begin to laugh also; sounds of laughter are heard, the infection spreads, till a whole audience, among whom, it may be, are many persons of grave and sober temperament, is convulsed with laughter at they scarce know what, and certainly at what, on the recollection of it in private, cannot move them to a smile.

CHAPTER VII.

INTELLECTUAL OPERATIONS AS CONNECTED WITH

RECOGNITION.

WE have already observed that the mind having discovered that it is in society with other minds similar to itself, but of various characters, some fitted to promote its happiness, others to render it unhappy, its discriminating powers are necessarily engaged in forming estimates of the characters of all persons with whom it has intercourse. It soon becomes one of the great businesses of human life to form judgments of character; and every man within the range of our acquaintanceship holds a certain station in our estimation in regard to the two great elements of character-namely, power to give pleasure or to inflict pain; to do good or evil; and disposition towards men generally, and towards ourselves particularly.

Classification.

The characters of men are so infinitely varied, that it is impossible to arrange them definitely under classes. The only approach that can be made to such classification is by reference to the more prominent attributes of men in regard to power and in regard to disposition. In regard to power, we call them rich poor, influential, insignificant, able weak, learned ignorant, acute stupid, witty, agreeable, tasteful, determined, inflexible, cowardly, vacillating, cunning, simple; or, in regard to disposition, loving malicious, generous selfish, upright dishonest, benevolent malignant, meek irascible; or, more generally still, good or bad. But these various attributes of character are so combined in such different degrees of intensity in different individuals, that all classification must necessarily be vague and indeterminate.

The nature of the intercourse of men with one another admits of a rather more definite classification-as family intercourse, commercial intercourse, political intercourse, religious intercourse; the intercourse of ruling and obeying, teaching and learning, bestowing and receiving.

Induction.

Induction, as applied to human intercourse, is sometimes called moral induction, as distinguished from the more certain inductions founded on material phenomena. In moral inductions, namely, that certain sequences will follow certain antecedents, because on former occasions similar antecedents have been followed by such consequents, the difficulty is to ascertain that the antecedents are the same. But till that be ascertained, no certain induction can be made. Antecedents may be the same in some respects, and yet be so different in others, that very different consequences would result from them. Certain measures have produced certain effects at one period, or

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