o the Atlantic from what they
are on the other, and what appears to us to partake of the ludicrous,
seems to them to be only grand, effective, and appropriate. "In
patriotic eloquence," says a U.S. journal, "our American stump-speakers
beat the world. They don't stand up and prose away so as to put an
audience to sleep, after the lazy genteel aristocratic style of British
Parliamentary speech-making." This boast is certainly just. There is a
vigour about the popular style of American oratory that we are sure has
never been equalled in the British Parliament. A paper of the interior
in paying a glowing tribute to the eloquence of the Fourth of July
orator who officiated in the town where the journal is published,
says--"Although he had a platform ten feet square to orate upon, he got
so fired up with patriotism that it wasn't half big enough to hold him:
his fist collided three times with the President of the day, besides
bunging the eye of the reader of the Declaration, and every person on
the stage left it limping." Such a style of oratory would leave durable
impressions, and be felt as well as heard.

It cannot be doubted that our mental state, whether temporary or
habitual, exercises a great influence over us in regard to humour.
Temperament must modify all our emotional feelings, some are naturally
gay and hilarious, some grave and austere, children laugh from little
more than exuberance of spirits, and joyousness causes us to seek
pleasure, to notice ludicrous combinations which would otherwise escape
us, and renders us sensitive of all humorous impressions. But the cares
of life have generally the effect of making men grave even where there
is no lack of imagination. Some have been so serious in mood that it has
been recorded that they were never known to laugh, as it is said of
Philip the Third of Spain that he only did so once--on reading Don
Quixote.

How little attempt at humour is there in most of our literary works!
True, humour is rather the language of conversation, and we may expect
it as little in writing, as we do sentiment in society. But even in its
own special province it is lacking, there is generally in our festive
gatherings more of what is dull than of what is playful and pleasant.
Perhaps our cloudy skies may have some influence--it is impossible to
doubt that climate affects the mental disposition of nations. The
natives of Tahiti in their soft southern isle are gay and
laughter-loving; the A