SARCASM.

THERE are cases, I fear, where ill-nature, a deliberate desire of giving pain, an envious wish to depreciate what we cannot reach, expends itself in bitter and indiscriminate sarcasm. These cases are

beyond our reach; the curse of Ishmael is upon them; their hand is against every man, and every man's hand is against them. The mischief is in the depth of a malignant heart, and Heaven alone can mend it. Doubtless, there are others in whom this practice arises from a wish to shine, a settled purpose of exhibiting a peculiar talent; which is certainly not wit, but near enough approaching it to be so called, and in itself sufficiently entertaining. These, too, we must leave. If they like the applause of the world better than its love, its laugh better than its approbation, they must take their choice. But I have met with many jesters of this kind, in whose bosom no malignant passion could be sheltered, and in whose heart, I hope and believe, no desire of applause at others' cost could be indulged. In these I should consider it a natural trait of character; continued for want of reflection on its dangerous and unholy tendency, or, perhaps, from the difficulty of subduing a late-discovered evil.

These, I would hope, might be prevailed upon to consider the mischief of this thoughtless indulgence of a natural humour.

But

But we must leave the scrutiny of motives to Him who knows; and to that self-examination I would strongly urge on all who are conscious of the practice. Whencesoever it arises, it is a habit the most destructive of all affectionate communion, all rational conversation, and all religious sobriety of mind: the enemy at once of piety, taste, and feeling. I would rather take for my companion the dullest spirit that ever hung upon my hands, than be doomed to the society of one of these eternal jesters. Those at least would allow me so much enjoyment as I could find elsewhere, if they could provide me none. these-whatever is beautiful in character, in nature, in works of taste, in the productions of intellect, they spoil me the enjoyment of, by obtruding on my attention some ludicrous imagination of their own, some mockery of defects that may or may not exist; affording me a little mirth in exchange for the mind's best and highest gratifications. Would that the molestation of these living Travesties ended here. But it does not. The pain they give to those who are present, is perhaps not very considerable. The weak and timid only are susceptible of these sallies: not the less, but rather the more, inexcusable on that account. Sensible minds care very little about the matter; and if they happen to be fond of mirth, would as soon be made to laugh at themselves as at any body else. But the injury they do the absent is considerable. It is not possible to measure the unperceived influence of such sallies on the opinion one person forms of another; or to calculate the impressions remaining from them on the mind, without our being conscious whence they came. Surely this is a grave consideration. Would those whose benevolent minds are busied in administering comfort to humanity, who desire to show their love to

God whom they have not seen, by every evidence of love to their brethren whom they have seen, and who would not, for any selfish gain, deliberately wrong the lowliest child of earth; would these like to discover that they have robbed the lonely of a friend, have winged the shaft of malice against the defenceless; have made the full cup of sadness to run over but one added drop; perhaps have overborne with shame some contrite spirit, or brought contempt on some struggling child of God? They may never discover it. They may never know it, until those books are opened. But for a little mirth, for the merit of a little brilliancy, will they take the risk?

Would that the evil stopped even here. But there is one character of sarcasm, the prevalence of which has much dwelt upon my mind. I speak of the habit of ridiculing the professors of religion, and especially its ministers. From the world we expect this. We know whence it arises, and what it means; for we know that when the voice, or manner, or other peculiarity of the minister are sarcastically noticed, the laugh excited is intended to fall upon the doctrine he preaches. But young people who thus amuse themselves, without any sinister intention, are little aware, I believe, of the injury they do others, and more particularly themselves. It is perfectly indecent, the manner in which, at the very doors of the sanctuary, you may hear them make mirth of the reader's or the preacher's peculiarities. There are those among my acquaintance whom I carefully watch out of the Church, before I leave my seat, lest I should meet them in the aisles, and have every serious impression dissipated by some sarcastic mimicry of the preacher's tones and expressions. And many, many times, at the dinner table, or in the

evening circle, have I sat with painful sadness, listening to the exaggerated statements, the sarcastic criticism, with which the Sabbath service was reviewed; not by enemies; not by disapprovers; but by those who should, and who did, set the highest value on what they heard.

Nor is it persons only. The things of God, religion itself; they do not mean it, I trust, but religion itself is not too sacred for the blight of their unhallowed jesting. I have the misfortune to have some friends, whose good feeling towards religion I should be sorry to doubt, who never mention it without the same play of words they accustom themselves to use in every thing: not seldom, I grieve to say, the words of Scripture itself, so travestied as to excite a smile at, if not against, the most pious practices and exalted truths; the objects, I really believe, of their reverence as much as of my own. Could they know how the more serious and deeply feeling bosom shudders at that venturous sport; how the sacred words pronounced in ludicrous associations, jar the heart that has been used to hear in them the language of its intensest feelings; surely they would blush and be ashamed for their unholy mirth. I would give instances of what I mean, but I fear to seem personal. Many are in my recollection; and may come, possibly, to the recollection of those who read. If it should be so, I am persuaded they will receive the Listener's affectionate remonstrances without resentment. This mirthful fancy, when united with an amiable disposition, is very entertaining. There are ways in which it may very innocently be indulged: for never was religion an enemy to harmless mirth. There will be occasions in which it may be even usefully exercised, and prevail where reason cannot. But in things sacred, in things serious, in

things divine; towards persons who should be sacred for the things' sake, it can never be harmless. These jesters are little aware of the effect of each ludicrous association on the weak and vacillating mind; and the unconfessed gratification and encouragement afforded by them to spirits profane and worldly. Nor are they more aware of the injury their own minds suffer from this indulgence. They may not know it, but they cannot name a thing irreverently without lessening their reverence for it; they cannot allude to things serious without seriousness, but they become less important in their estimation. And surely they might be aware that the minister, or other servant of God, whose defects and peculiarities they are accustomed to ridicule, cannot retain an influence over their minds: no small consideration, when it is through the medium of his servants our Lord so generally dispenses the influence of his grace.