able emotions that actuates the human heart. It commences early, and often accompanies us to the closing scene of life. It inspirits the play of the infant, the task of the schoolboy, and the busy career of the man. It gives health and vigour to the first, applause and distinction to the second, and riches and honour to the third. But emulation, instead of being connected with the social, is often connected with the selfish, affections; and in this case it degenerates into rivalry, an ungenerous strife to equal or surpass a competitor where there is a chance of success; or into envy, which is a mixture of emulation and hatred, where there is not.

The antagonist passion to DESIRE is AVERSION, which has also, like desire, different degrees of intensity, and a family of diversified characters, though in neither respect so numerous or complicated as the former.

It not unfrequently unites itself to pride, and produces, as its progeny, the jaundiced family of scorn, contempt, and disdain; the last of which is thus described by Spenser:

His looks were dreadful, and his fiery eyes,
Like two great beacons, glared far and wide,
Glancing askew, as if his enemies

He scorned in his overweening pride;
And stalking stately, like a crane did stride
At every step upon the tip-toes high;
And all the way he went, on every side
He gazed about, and stared horribly,

As if he, with his looks, all men would terrify.

Aversion, combined with a quick sense of being wronged, whether real or imaginary, becomes anger; anger, when violent or ungovernable, is denominated

rage or fury; and, when stimulated by a determination to retaliate, it assumes the name and shape of revenge. Hatred is only aversion advanced to a higher degree in the scale; and hatred, colleagued with a fixed and clandestine desire to injure, degenerates into malice; the foulest, most despicable, and most devilish of all the passions that can harass an intelligent being, and the most opposite to the character of the Divinity; for God is love, and the stamp of benevolence is imprinted on every part of creation.

De secrètes beautés quel amas innombrable!
Plus l'Auteur s'est caché, plus il est admirable! *
What boundless beauties round us are display'd!
How shines the Godhead mid the darkest shade!

Such, then, are the numerous and diversified families that issue directly or collaterally from the passion of desire, or of aversion as its opposite. I stated this passion to be almost universal in its range, and I submit to you whether this statement has not been verified.

The two other radical sources into which we are to resolve the remaining passions of the heart are JOY and SORROW: of equal weight and moment in the scale of life, but less numerous and complicated in their offspring; and which will, therefore, detain us but for a few minutes.

Joy, when pure and genuine, is a sweet and vivacious affection. It is the test and index of happiness or pleasure. Its influence, like that of attraction, extends to remote objects; and it lightens

*Racine le fils, Poëme de la Religion.

the severest labours by its foretaste. It is the breath, the nectar of heaven, and the high reward which stimulates us to a performance of our duty while on earth.

Joy, like several of the preceding passions, has different names assigned to it, in its different stages of ascent: at its lowest point, it is ease, content, or tranquillity; at a certain elevation, it is called delight or gladness; somewhat farther in the scale, exultation; beyond this, rapture or transport- for the terms, as applied to this passion, are synonymous; and advanced far higher, it is ecstasy-joy so overwhelming as to take away the senses, and prevent all power of utterance. Among the Greeks, however, the term ECSTASY was used in a more general sense, and applied to any overwhelming affection, whether of joy or sorrow; and Shakspeare, who has often carried it farther than the Greeks, occasionally makes it a feature of madness or mental distraction, which is not passion but disease. The following from his Hamlet is an instance of this signification:

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth
Blasted with ECSTASY.

Combined with activity, joy produces the lighthearted family of cheerfulness, gaiety, mirth, frolic, and jocularity; the best and most lively picture of which, that the world has ever seen, is given by Milton in his Allegro, mirth being here placed at the head of the whole.

Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful Jollity,

Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport, that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides.
Come, and trip it as you go

On the light fantastic toe.

And in thy right hand lead with thee
The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty.

Possessing features in many respects similar, we meet with another lively tribe, which are equally the offspring of joy, but of joy in alliance with an ardent imagination. These are sentimentalism, characterised by romantic views or ideas of real life; chivalry, which is the sentimentalism of gallantry, caparisoned for action, and impatient to enter the burning list,

Where throngs of knights and barons bold
In weeds of peace high triumphs hold,
With stores of ladies, whose bright eyes
Rain influence, and judge the prize.

This extravagant passion had its use in the feudal times; but it has for ages become antiquated, and in modern warfare has certainly too much gone out of fashion.

To the same tribe belongs enthusiasm, the joyous or ecstatic devotion of a high-wrought fancy to some particular cause or party, the chief of which are religion and patriotism; and under the influence of which, the body is wound up to a display of almost preternatural exploits, and an endurance of almost miraculous privations and labour.

The sprightly passion of joy gives birth also to a

third tribe, in consequence of its union with novelty. It is a listening and attentive group, and consists of admiration, surprise, wonder, and astonishment: upon which I need not enlarge, except to remark that the word astonishment is, at times, made use of to express a very different feeling, produced by novelty and terror; and which is more accurately distinguished by the name of amazement. These mixed passions, however, are very apt to run into each other, as I shall have occasion to notice more at large in a subsequent lecture; and perhaps the most exquisite feeling a man can possess of the purely mental kind, is derived from a contemplation of scenery, or a perusal of history, where every thing around him is grand, majestic, and marvellous, and the terrible keeps an equal, or rather nearly an equal, pace with the delightful.

The opposite of JOY IS SORROW a fruitful mother of hideous and unwelcome children; fruitful I mean on earth, but shut out with a wall of adamant from the purer regions of the skies.

Sorrow is as much distinguished by different names as any of the preceding affections, according to the height it reaches in the general scale of evil. And hence, at one point, it is sadness; at another, woe or misery; at a third, anguish; and at its extreme verge, distraction or despair.

Connected with a sense of something lost, or beyond our reach, it gives rise to regret and grief; and when in union with a feeling of guilt, it becomes remorse and repentance.

Its two bosom companions, however, are fear and fancy. When allied to the former alone, it produces the haggard progeny of care, anxiety, vexation,