applause and admiration of persons, who, in most instances, are unable to distinguish the sensible and praiseworthy from the absurd and ridiculous. In nothing are men so thoroughly and egregiously deceived, as in this particular. They mistake the babblings of a frivolous and petulant tongue for the coruscations of Genius; and fancy that they discover a fund of Wit and Humour in every fleeting joke, every sally of levity, which obtrudes itself upon their ears. But the Man of Sense restrains his words and sentiments, while the multitude are tickled and delighted with this Folly. That man alone sees all its weaknesses and all its futility-hears the utmost extent of its powers;-yet disregards them. As a skilful boxer, or cudgel-player, he reserves his attack upon it, until it lies completely at his mercy; and then, with one well-aimed and decisive blow, humbles it to nothing.

The love of praise, that most powerful incentive to the human heart, attacks, by different plots and manoeuvres, the whole of mankind. But it is my opinion, that of all its methods of persuasion, few have been found more alluring than the prospect of becoming ennobled by the powers of Wit. of Wit. There is something so fascinating in the idea of commanding the risible faculties of our hearers, as it were, by magic;-of "setting the table in a roar," at will; and exacting dread and respect from all, through the medium of our satirical powers, that we may (for a short time, at least,) cease to wonder, that so many have sought Fame by this alluring, though difficult path. But if we calmly and coolly reflect upon the obstacles which many before us have undergone and yielded to in the pursuit of this object, we shall, I am positive, be inclined to delay, if not to give up our purpose, previous to our enrolling, or attempting to enroll ourselves, amongst the herd of Wits. For Wit is a capricious and fickle Deity; nor is every one, who desires such a distinction, calculated to be one of her favourites. Few, very few, are so highly gifted: all others, who indulge any pretensions to it, deserve nothing, save contempt and ridicule. Let us remember that "from the sublime to the ridiculous there is but one step;"-that a man must either excel in this particular, or sink into a prattler of trifles and absurdity. Our friend Horace says,

"Mediocribus esse poetis

Non homines, non Dii, non concessere columnæ :"
He might have mentioned the same, with regard to Wits.

But these are not the only objections which I entertain towards Wit. However excellent and successful a man may be in this respect, I certainly deem it, to say the least of it, a most dangerous weapon. It may probably provoke the most quiet and generous temper; and make us enemies of those who are most worthy of our friendship. Few can bear the venom of its shafts without

some considerable degree of irritation; nay, if we can give any credit to the stories which are reported concerning Archilochus and Hipponax, it has driven those, against whom it was directed; to madness. But even supposing that these accounts are untrue, we must allow that Wit has often been attended with very serious consequences, and called down a heavy punishment upon the head which cherished it. What triumphs can the whole race of Wits, from former ages to the present day, boast of? We shall find that most of those triumphs were purchased dearly by them: They have been imprisoned, beaten, and tormented; they have incurred general odium from generation to generation. However that facetious marksman, Aster of Amphipolis, may deserve praise, who, when Philip was storming Methone, aimed an arrow at the conqueror, with the quaint direction, "To Philip's right eye;" we must confess that he acted foolishly in throwing away his life, however good the joke might be. Poor Aster! he found to his cost, that the wit of his head was overbalanced by the weight of his heels. Neither can we be persuaded that the jest of Pasquin against the sister of Pope Sextus Quintus procured its author the most enviable reward. The Pope offered a reward to any one who would discover that author: and Pasquin, relying upon his generosity, delivered himself up to the clutches of his Holiness who not only repaid him with the promised sum, but also with the loss of his hands and tongue; which utterly disabled the satirist. A man who has felt the severity of a wellaimed shaft of Wit, will long perceive a rankling at the wound, and encourage no friendly sentiment against him that inflicted it.

Launcelot Villers is a young man of good abilities, good fortune, and good character; but employs all his talents in the service of that most disgusting and despicable species of WitPunning. So much has this cacoethes, this itch for a witty reputation, prevailed upon him, that he allows every good quality to be eclipsed by it. No sentence escapes his lips, which does not teem with words of double meaning; with jests, in the production of which, he tortures himself; in the relation, his hearers. He will, previously to his appearing in any of the polite circles, create a profusion of facetious remarks, which he treasures up in nis mind; and then seeks the company of his friends, with a brain overflowing with nonsense. In the course of conversation, he introduces remarks, which he may play upon, and sets a kind of trap, as it were, for the words of others. By this means he contrives to publish his long-collected trash. But however my good friend Launcelot may congratulate himself upon his ingenuity and skill in this branch of the art, I must beg leave to differ from him in his opinions, (nil tanti est!) and inquire into all the advantages which he obtains by persevering in these pursuits.

We will allow that he feels great self-applause and satisfaction in his attempts as a Punster; but, alas! Launcelot is so delighted and engaged with this peculiar forte of his, that he little considers how many he troubles and vexes with his endless flow of nonsense; how many fly from the torrent of words, which attends him everywhere; and how many despise and disregard the newest and most elaborate effusions of his Genius. Nor is this to be wondered at; for how can the remarks of an over-facetious companion always please us? Variety is agreeable in every thing; but if any one attempts to succeed in the pursuits of my friend, the stores of his brain must be inexhaustible, or his endeavours will inevitably fail. This is the case with Villers. We hear the same nonsense repeated day after day. His very name has become so notorious, that we hear his acquaintance defining every foolish and trifling pun, every stale and hackneyed attempt at wit, by that name. In short, he is looked upon as a most consunimate coxcomb. Such is the reward of a Punster!

Mark Egerton has the same good abilities, the same application and perseverance in the pursuit of his favourite object, and the same eagerness for being dubbed a Wit, as my abovementioned friend. But he seeks that object by another path; which carries him as far from the desideratum, as that course which Launcelot pursues. In company he is silent and reserved; insomuch so, that many consider him as a mere cipher in the polite circles. But as soon as he has retired from the society of his friends, and has seated himself securely in his closet, he gives full scope to his pen, and vents his satirical talents in sundry Epigrams, Lampoons, Satires; in short, in every mode of composi tion, which has been or can be converted into a vehicle for this species of Wit. He attacks the conversation, the habits, the reputations, and the feelings, of friends and enemies indiscriminately; and when he has, in his own mind, sufficiently acted the part of an executioner, he launches out his productions against those whom he has abused in the most absurd and unprincipled manner. But Mark's brain is, unfortunately, no more qualified for the formation of Epigrams or Lampoons, than is that of Launcelot for Puns and Witticisms. The consequences are, that while he is unable to amuse, he offends and disgusts the whole round of his acquaintance. No one smiles, but many frown at the fruits of his labour. At what price has he obtained the fame which, in fancy, he enjoys? He has involved himself in three duels; has been several times rewarded with a horsewhip; and has more than once been compelled by a Court of Law to pay damages for some effervescence of his wit, which he has dared to display at the expense of prosecution for a libel. Most of the clubs about Town have either expelled, or black-balled him; and

if he ever attempts to enroll himself in any of the others, he will doubtless be most resolutely opposed. Nor has his success with the fair sex been at all improved by his attempts at satire. Twice has he been on the point of marriage ;-twice have his hopes been defeated by some absurdity, not exactly suited to the taste of his intended bride. The remainder of the sex, knowing that, in the gratification of his Wit, he will neither spare their feelings or their characters, have one and all agreed to reject his offers. From his own family he rarely experiences any kindness; nor is it to be wondered at. It is but lately that his father made an alteration in his will, considerably to Mark's detriment, for some abuse and ridicule against the Bank Directors; of which honourable and highly-respectable body the old gentleman is a member. What, then, are his triumphs? Despised and persecuted by men; rejected, though dreaded, by females; an object of resentment to his father, and of aversion to his family ;-of what can he boast? Poor Mark! what a pity it is that he should sacrifice his talents, his expectations, and his friendships, to an object from which he will never gain Honour or Benefit!

1

Henry Lawson seeks the reputation of a Wit, by short and biting remarks; in the distribution of which he is peculiarly successful. He assumes the manners and character of a Cynic; and, to do him justice, they suit him remarkably well. His wit neither shows itself in the trifling and feeble puns of Launcelot Villers, or in the epigrammatic nonsense of Mark Egerton; but in sharp and taunting sarcasms, which, although they are seldom uttered, are never uttered without effect. He imitates, when in the society of his friends, the same mode of conversation and behaviour which obtained for a great literary man of the last century, the title of "Bear." And we certainly cannot refuse the praise those efforts deserve, which have procured for Henry Lawson the same enviable denomination. Not a shadow of doubt remains of his superiority in this particular; nor can we deny. that he has been pre-eminently successful and triumphant; if that can be deemed success and triumph, which causes our friends to shun and avoid us, as they would avoid a dangerous animal;which creates us enemies from day to day, and calls down upon us universal odium. If this, I say, can obtain success, Henry has fully obtained it. Does he accost an acquaintance, with a view to conversation? his inquiry is hastily answered by those to whom he addresses himself;-they leave him immediately with the same speed which they would exert in flying from the wand of an enchanter. Does he make his appearance at the Public Dinners-the Conversaziones-the Concert-the Assembly-the Theatre? The seats which he approaches are deserted ; the innocent mirth and sportive freedom of conversation cease; the song is

hushed; the gaiety is at an end. All dread him as a Critic and Censor, yet all detest him as an Intruder and a Cynic:-he is alike the object of uneasiness and fear; of disgust and odium. What can be his motives for acquiring a name by such a morose, such an uninviting display of his talents?

So much for the Wit of words. I have stated my objections against Wit, taken in this light: I will now make a few observations upon that species, which is termed the Practical; to which I am not at all more partially inclined. This, although it generally affords considerable amusement to all, with the exception of those who are marked out for the purpose of displaying its powers, may, in many respects, be extended far beyond the bounds of Reason or Temperance. It may involve its authors in sundry unpleasant dilemmas, to say nothing worse of the matter; yet many are so completely addicted to it, that, for the sake of raising a laugh, they will not scruple to run into difficulties and absurdities, from which they will be unable to extricate themselves.

There is not a more jovial companion, a more amusing acquaintance, or a more warm and generous hearted fellow, take him all in all, than my worthy and merry friend, Anthony Sedgwick. But poor Tony is most consummately addicted to this last mentioned species of Wit; and, although he frequently has cause to repent of his mischievous, yet diverting tricks, I fear that he never will cease from them, until he precipitates himself into some fatal error. Poor Tony! if there is a row, he must be concerned in it;-if a hoax is to be played off upon some object of dislike, Tony is sure of being appointed head manager;—if an insult is to be offered to any person, the care and direction of it devolves upon Tony. He certainly is esteemed amongst his companions as the soul of fun, and the life of mirth; but this honour is purchased at a most exorbitant price. He is perpetually frightening his family out of their wits, by some ingenious. contrivance or other. His brothers and sisters are alike the objects of his amusement; nor can he always refrain from irritating the weak nerves of his mother, or the passionate temper of his father. It was but last winter, that, after having performed the part of a ghost for several nights with great satisfaction to himself, and consternation to the neighbourhood, some one, more courageous than the rest, aimed a gun at him, by means of which he received a tolerably sharp admonition in his leg. When at Eton, his propensity to mischief hurried him into an infinity of punishments and difficulties. He was a perpetual, though unwilling votary of the block; and was within an ace of expulsion, from sending a package to the Head Master, which upon examination was found to contain nothing more or less than a dead dog, and a score of brick-bats.