T. Never! Sir, I don't allow myself to be guilty of plagiarism. I am the first man who ever made the observation. I wish you clearly to understand that. However, I must leave you. I have got a book to read on moral philosophy which will keep me up probably all night.

F. But the English women-what of them?

T. O, yes, I had forgotten. The reputation they have for health, beauty, personal neatness, and domestic, fire-side virtues, is all fudge! Any man who will look without foolish fondness on the females of Wapping and St. Giles' must be convinced of that. In fact the constitutions of the English women are upon a par with that of the English government: on a superficial view they appear sound, healthy and robust, but on a close examination by an enlightened and unprejudiced person, such as myself, for example, they will be found to consist of fragile and unsound materials, ready to fall to pieces at the first rude shock of adversity or disease. Good night, I am off.

F. Good night; my much esteemed friend, judicious observer, and most veracious traveller.

DIALOGUE

ON WIT BETWEEN TWO WITLINGS.

Scene, a parlour, with two gentlemen distinguished from the rest of the human family by the expressive

cognomens of Master Superfine and Master Superficial, seated at a table, each with a book in his hand. Superfine opens the ball by remarking, in an affected tone of voice, that "Pope's essay on criticism is a wonderfully fine work. Did you ever read it, Superficial?"

Super. Never since I was about the age of Pope at the time he wrote it.

Sup. But why not read it now? It contains many brilliant passages, with numerous exquisite descriptions of both authors and critics.

Super. That's true enough: but nobody reads poetry in these days. The present is a matter of fact generation and more honour is to be gained by building a saw-mill than by writing an epic. When I was a boy I read all kinds of books, from the veracious history of Guy, Earl of Warwick, the perusal of which has inspired many with (temporary) heroism, to Fox's Book of Martyrs whose horrible details are calculated to fill the mind with pious indignation, and saturate the pocket handkerchief with brine. All poetry was familiar to me, from that class so remarkable for its beautiful simplicity and pathos, to which belong the ballads of "Johnny Armstrong," "Death and the Lady," and

dying verses sent by malefactors the evening before their execution" to their affectionate wives and broken hearted sweethearts; up to that, in which heaven, earth and hell were ransacked for materials; and all nature called upon to supply ornaments, and illustrations. Where gods and goddesses, heroes and heroines, angels of light and demons of darkness, were in constant requisition, and almost forever on the stage; including

the extremes of the Iliad, and Blackmore's "Creation,"

"Writ to the rumbling of his coach's wheels."

Sup. I have just been studying the first canto of Pope's essay, and find a passage in it which for the life of me I can't reconcile either to my own experience, or the soundest deductions of rational ratiocination.

Super. What is it? Pope is generally very clear; although like all writers upon subjects of taste he is liable to state opinions that may be controverted. Sup. It is this.

"There are whom heaven hath blest with store of wit, (3 Yet want as much again to govern it."

Now by a 66 store of wit," of course he intends a great abundance of that scarce article in the intellectual character and I see no reason why a person who has got such a quantity should not have enough to enable him to make a proper use of it.

Super. The fact is that in the second line he does not mean wit, but judgement, prudence or discretion: good, sound, common sense, worth all the wit in the world, by which a man is enabled to decide upon the propriety or impropriety of any line of conduct beforehand. A person endowed with this quality of mind, (a much scarcer article, by the by, than people generally imagine, and infinitely more so than what passes current for wit) reflects before he speaks, and does not blurt out his crude, and, frequently insulting, repartees, without respect to the character and feelings of the party to whom they are applied.

Sup. But is it not perfectly natural for a man of quick perceptions when a bright thought occurs to him on any subject of conversation to utter it at once? and can he restrain himself without doing violence to his own feelings? In such a case I should think that it is a question whether he should suffer one kind of punishment or inflict another kind upon his friend.

Super. It is natural. Yet all natural propensities are not always to be indulged. Time, place, circumstances and consequences, should be taken into consideration, and we are no more justified in uttering smart sayings because they tickle our own fancies with delight when we are sure of their giving pain to others, than we are in doing many other things equally natural, but which the usages of civilized life denounce as indelicate or uncivil.

Sup. That is certainly very fine; still I don't see why wit should displease any body: we always see people laugh, or at any rate smile at it.

Super. Yes, we do; but wit is quite a different thing in the hands of different individuals. You know, I suppose, that the name has never been satisfactorily defined; nor the peculiar quality of mind to which the name is given properly, distinguished by metaphysicians. It has, perhaps, the most unlimited range of any other faculty; and is capable of exercising its powers on every object in nature, every character, every circumstance, expression, word or look. Witty men have ever been flattered; and they are invariably vain of their talent. Some show it more decidedly than others, but in a greater or lesser degree all are under the influence of vanity; and with that baneful quality discretion was never yet united.

You know, also, that there are several kinds of wit: the most common of which are pun, irony, and sarcasm. The first, although despised by great wits, is enjoyed and practised by both great and small, whenever they can perceive the connection between the sound of one word and the meaning of another.

The second belongs to minds of a peculiar construction and is altogether playful and harmless in its character; sometimes creating a laugh at the expense of a person's eccentricities, but having nothing malicious or spiteful in it, and frequently calculated to do good, by indirectly exposing error, or, without seeming to aim at it, reproving folly.

The last is always intended to give pain, in which, for the most part, it is sure to succeed.

Sarcasm is indulged in by such persons as are of a phlegmatic temperament; or men disappointed in their prospects, hopes and expectations; who either are, or think they are, neglected and ill-used by the world: or, as is most commonly the case, by the naturally morose and bad tempered; and is of all species of wit the most unamiable, because it is totally destructive of sociability. The punster examines your words and his own, as a child in a toy shop examines the little musical instruments, in order to see which he can best play upon. The ironical wit looks to the general tenor of actions and character; and when he perceives any thing absurd, inconsistent or ridiculous, with a grave countenance praises it; or runs a parallel with it in a similar strain; taking pains to carry it out so far as to show clearly his unfavourable opinion of the speech, writing, or conduct in which those inconsistences may be found.