understanding. An exquisite distinction I once heard made between wit and humour, appears to me admirably to apply to that of the French and English—that humour differs from wit in being more nearly allied with pathos. Thus it is with us islanders—we can be merry, but not lively; and mirth brings its own reaction. Lord Byron wrote quite as an Englishman when he said
'Laughter
Leaves us so doubly saddened shortly after.'"
Emily Arundel.—"How well I remember sitting under a favourite old chestnut-tree, with a huge folio of tales filled with pictures—kings and queens, always with their crowns on their heads—and fairies, with large hoops, and wings on their shoulders! "
Edward Lorraine.—"Talking of wings—with what magnificent plumes does Martin invest his angels, as if tinged by every ray of sunshine they caught in their descent to the earth; and their size, too, gives such an idea of power!"
Emily Arundel.—"But to go back to supposing subjects for his pictures. What do you say to the midnight fête in the gardens of Scherzyrabade, when the Caliph visited his
