so there is with individual man constant room for hope. Poets have written on the pleasures of hope, and moralists have been very general in praising and in blaming it. "Hope," says Haliburton, "is a pleasant acquaintance, but an unsafe friend. Hope is not the man for your banker; but he may do very well for a travelling companion."

It is the best travelling companion in the world, and certainly no bad banker, if you do not draw on him too much. We all do very badly without it, for distance will lend no enchantment to the view if our companion is one of those prosaic people who assure us that all is barren from Dan to Beersheba. A certain bravery, an elevation of spirit, and constancy of mind are the concomitants of Hope. It is a noble virtue, and has its roots or its basis in faith. It reacts upon a man's self, purifies him and upholds him in his trials, and gives him strength to bear them. It is unfair to call it delusive, since delusive hopes are generally foolishly founded, and sinful or harmful in their indulgence. That hope only is righteous which has a basis of reason. When we are ready to cry with that most prosaic Glover, whom it is delightful to quote because nobody else will cite him,—

66

"Oh Hope, sweet flatterer, whose delusive touch
Sheds on afflicted minds the balm of comfort,"

we may be sure that we have been indulging, not our manly and reasonable, but our extravagant and romantic feelings.

It is quite true that "from the lowest depths there is a path to the loftiest height;" but it is a bad way to get there if we willingly make the descent. There is great wisdom in indulging in moderate hopes, which will add wings to our courage and energy to our wills. True hope is indeed a vigorous principle, and there has been no great man or woman but has had recourse to it. Cowley calls it "the sick man's health, the lover's victory, the poor man's wealth;" and it is indeed valuable as all these; but it is yet more,— it is the brave and wise man's consolation and staff of support; always to be retained while there is life,-never to be abandoned, even in death.

XVII.

GOOD NATURE, TEMPER, AND HUMOUR.

WHETHER Our modern destructive philosopher will succeed in persuading that lofty animal called man that he is no better than he should be, and that, instead of being "a little lower than the angels," he is only a very little higher than a beast, is a question; but in his latest book, on the "Expression of the Emotions," he has produced several facts to prove that which we already know-namely, that animals exhibit good temper and bad temper, and are subject to various humours, and are of a bad or good nature as the case may be. Some of these expressions of the emotions are almost identical in either case, good or bad. Thus a cat, when pleased, will gently wave its erected tail-and Mr. Darwin is very learned as to the nerve force and proper muscles brought into play for erection: but in other specimens of the feline genus, such as the lion-Felis leo-gentle wagging of the tail is an expression of fury. In placing man-who has been defined as the only animal that laughs— on the same plane as the dog, Mr. Darwin roundly asserts

N

that dogs laugh. So they do in nursery legends; but, though a great lover of dogs, and very observant of their expressions, we can hardly accept the fact even when supported by some lines from Somerville. "A pleasurable and excited state of mind," says Darwin, "is exhibited by some dogs by grinning. This was noticed long ago by Somerville, who says-

"And with a courtly grin the fawning hound
Salutes thee cow'ring, his wide op'ning nose

Upward he curls, and his large sloe-black eyes
Melt in soft blandishments and humble joy.””

This no doubt is correct as to the eyes; but as to the grin we cannot agree-as also the "sniff" that Sir Charles Bell heard, "which resembles laughter." The good temper and good nature of dogs and of all animals are patent to all, but for His own good purpose, God has differentiated their expression, or, to use Mr. Darwin's method, they have not yet acquired our habit of smiling, not "even to the slight eversion of their lips, the grin and the sniff" which Sir Charles Bell found in them.

Until, then, our philosophers shall have given us something more tangible than mere bald assertions unsupported by satisfactory evidence, we shall believe that man is the only animal which smiles and laughs-but not the only one, perhaps, which weeps. To him a wider expanse of power is vouchsafed, with muscles to unclose the lachrymatory ducts

and to pucker the good-humoured wrinkles round the eye, as well as make the mouth curve itself into varied form and to "laugh mortal" when its owner is tickled with pleasure.

What is it, this important element of life-this that carries so overwhelming a majority that it is as nine to one? The three qualities which we have chosen for the subject of this essay are very different. Good nature arises from race, blood, breeding; is inheritable, and depends more upon one's parents than upon one's self. It is also somewhat subject to geographical conditions, and takes much of its substance from the air we breathe and the land we inhabit. It is an affair of race. The mild Hindoo and the self-satisfied but "heathen Chinee," are good-natured, placid creatures, as one may see from every line of their calm countenances, although beneath that placid surface there are a host of angry passions, forceful and cruel as history has often borne witness. The Russian, Dacian, or Roumanian, the Italian, Spanish, and Celtic peoples, are by no means so good-natured, although they may be, and frequently are sweet-tempered. As a rule, nations dwelling in deeply wooded and remote countries, far from civilization and the business of the muchpeopled world, are, if good-tempered, melancholy and sad, and subject to fits of dejection, delighting in gloomy subjects, both in poetry and in art.

We have an instance of a lower sense of good natureoften mentioned as appertaining to a man and almost