there is a want of proportion between the cause and the effect that makes the figure degenerate into the ridiculous, and, instead of producing elevation of feeling, has a directly contrary result.

In sanguine temperaments or impulsive natures, this tendency to exaggerate is very common. With some persons, everything is magnificent! splendid! sublime!! awful!!! They never condescend to use more ordinary or more moderate terms. They seem always on stilts, raised above common mortals. Sometimes they will carry this feeling so far as to make use-no doubt unconsciously-of contradictory terms, such as 'immensely small,' 'exquisitely ugly,' 'sublime nonsense,' &c. And such expressions are not confined to their spoken language, but find their way into whatever they may be called upon to write. It is hardly necessary to state that this practice is strongly to be reproved. When we exhaust the superlatives of our language on trivial objects, or common occasions, what is to be done for terms fitted to express the really great or sublime? Besides, morally speaking, it has a pernicious effect; for when we once contract the habit of indulging in exaggerated language, no one knows how far it may carry us beyond the bounds of truth.

There are two kinds of hyperbole; 1, that suggested by the strong passions of persons describing their own condition; and 2, that used in describing the condition of others. Of these, the first is far preferable, because it is more natural. Violent passion may transport us beyond the bounds of reality in expressing our own state; but one who describes the feelings of others never can be agitated to such a degree as to use

the same degree of extravagant expression. For this reason, there is great beauty in the following passage of Milton:

Me miserable! which way shall I fly
Infinite wrath, and infinite despair!

Which way I fly is Hell-myself am Hell-
And in the lowest deep, a lower deep,

Still threatening to devour me, opens wide,

To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven.'

Here the poet represents Satan as tortured with despair, and no words seem too strong or too extravagant to express the violence of his feelings.

But the passage before quoted, beginning—

Poured forth her tears at such a lavish rate,' &c.,

is fairly open to objection. Whatever latitude of expression might be allowed to one suffering from the distracting agitation of grief, the same liberty cannot be conceded to one who describes that condition. The language of passion is naturally more violent than the language of description.

With regard to the application of this figure, there are three rules:

1. That the mind of the reader should be always prepared for it, and that, consequently, the figure is quite out of place at the beginning of a poem or work; 2. That it should never be used in the description of any common or familiar subject; and 3. That it should be comprehended in as few words as possible.

It may be difficult to determine how far this figure

may be properly carried; but it is clear that the more words it contains, the less powerful will be the impression. The Spanish-Roman poet Lucan is immoderately fond of hyperbole, and sometimes carries it to an unwarrantable extravagance. In addressing the Roman Emperor, Nero, he beseeches him, when deified after death, not to dwell in those parts of the heavens near either of the poles, but to occupy a middle station, lest his weight should overthrow the whole system of the universe.

ON COMPARISON.

To the principle of comparison we are indebted for a considerable amount of our information; for the worth of things can never be so well known and appreciated when they are isolated or independent of each other. It is only by bringing things into juxtaposition that we can discover their real value, and can understand the resemblances or differences between them.

Objects of different senses cannot often be properly compared to each other. For this reason, it would be wrong to compare a song to a tree, or the scent of a rose to the softness of velvet. It is plain that we cannot see a sound or hear a taste, though we may compare similar sounds or similar tastes to each other. But it is to be observed, that though two ideas derived from different senses cannot be compared together in a literal signification, they frequently resemble each other in producing similar effects on the mind, and so far as they both contribute to raise the same train of ideas, they may be legitimately compared to each other. Of

a comparison depending on this principle, the following example may be quoted :—

'The music of Carryl was, like the memory of joys that are past, pleasant and mournful to the soul.'

Here the comparison is founded on the similarity of the effect produced; for no kind of music bears any immediate resemblance to a mental condition. The following are of the same description :

'Delightful is thy presence, O Fingal! it is like the sun of Cromla, when the hunter mourns his absence for a season, and sees him between the clouds.'

'Often, like the evening sun, comes the memory of former times on my soul.'

This figure has a twofold object; either to embellish language, or to assist in explaining the writer's views. The first class of comparisons is more properly adapted to poetry; but the second, which is more correctly called illustration, is not confined to any form of literature, or any subject of composition. All questions admit of explanation, be they poetical or scientific, and therefore, even in arguing on the most abstruse subjects of philosophy, the figure comparison may be properly introduced. As examples of comparisons of embellishment, the following may be quoted :

Goldsmith, in his description of the village preacher,

'As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form,

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.'

Homer, speaking of the eloquence of Ulysses :

'Soft as the fleeces of descending snows,
The copious accents fall, with easy art;
Melting they fall, and sink into the heart.'

Pope's translation.

Milton, describing the standard of the reprobate angels, says that it—

'Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind.'

Shakspere, in the 'Tempest':

'And as the morning steals upon the night,
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their clearer reason.'

Again, in 'King John':

Act v. Scene i.`

'Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,
Like a proud river peering o'er its bounds?'

Act III. Scene i.

The following are examples of comparisons of illustration, and their purpose is to instruct by explaining:

'As wax would not be adequate to the purpose of signature, if it had not the power to retain as well as to receive the impression, the same holds of the soul with respect to sense and imagination. Sense is its receptive power; imagination, its retentive. Had it sense without imagination, it would not be as wax, but as water, where, though all impressions be instantly made, yet, as soon as they are made, they are instantly lost.'

'The Tartuffes, however, who were present at the exhibition, deeply stung by the sarcasms of the poet [Molière], like the foul birds of night whose recesses