LECTURE
ON THE
STRATIFIACTION OF LANGUAGE.
THERE are few sensations more pleasant than that of wondering. We have all experienced it in childhood, in youth, and in our manhood, and we may hope that even in our old age this affection of the mind will not entirely pass away. If we analyse this feeling of wonder carefully, we shall find that it consists of two elements. What we mean by wondering is not only that we are startled or stunned:—that I should call the merely passive element of wonder. When we say "I wonder," we confess that we are taken aback, but there is a secret satisfaction mixed up with our feeling of surprise, a land of hope, nay, almost certainty that sooner or later the wonder will cease, that our senses or our mind will recover, will grapple with these novel impressions or experiences, grasp them, it may be, throw them, and finally triumph over them. In fact we wonder at the riddles of nature, whether animate or inanimate, with a firm conviction that there is a solution to them all, even though we ourselves may not be able to find it.
