is formed of certain
combinations of earth, air, and water; yet none of these dull elements
possess the fragrance or beauty of the flower. These properties come
from some attractive and constructive power. Not only are there no types
or patterns in things of our emotions, but there are none even of our
sensations; heat and cold, red or blue, are such only for our
constitution. This truth is beautifully set forth by Addison in a
passage in which, as Dugald Stewart justly remarks, "We are at a loss
whether most to admire the author's depth and refinement of thought, or
the singular felicity of fancy displayed in its illustration." "Things,"
he observes, "would make but a poor appearance to the eye, if we saw
them only in their proper figures and motions. And what reason can we
assign for their exciting in us many of those ideas which are different
from anything that exists in the objects themselves (for such are light
and colours) were it not to add supernumerary ornaments to the universe,
and make it more agreeable to the imagination? We are everywhere
entertained with pleasing shows and apparitions. We discover imaginary
glories in the heavens and on the earth, and see some of this visionary
beauty poured out over the whole creation. But what a rough, unsightly
sketch of Nature should we be entertained with, did all her colouring
disappear, and the several distinctions of light and shade vanish! In
short, our souls are delightfully lost and bewildered in a pleasing
delusion, and we walk about like the enchanted hero of a romance, who
sees beautiful castles, woods, and meadows, and at the same time hears
the warbling of birds and the purling of streams; but upon the finishing
of some secret spell, the fantastic scene breaks up, and the
disconsolate knight finds himself on a barren heath, or in a solitary
desert."

I have introduced these considerations, because it is very difficult for
us to realize that what we behold is merely phenomenal, that

"Things are not what they seem;"

but that we are looking into the mirror of Nature at our own likeness.
When we speak of a ludicrous occurrence, we cannot avoid thinking that
the external events themselves contain something of that character.
Thus, the ludicrous has come in our ideas and language to be separated
from the sense in which alone it exists, and it is desirable that we
should clearly understand that the distinction is only logical and not
real.

When the c