If the general public, acquainted only with the comic works of THOMAS HOOD, were taken by surprise when they found how he could handle serious and solemn themes; those who saw him in the flesh must have been equally astonished to learn how grave and melancholy a man the famous wit was to all appearance. The chronic ill health, which gave this expression to his countenance, was, however, powerless to affect the tone of his mind. “Here lies one who spat more blood and made more puns than any man living,” was the epitaph he half-jestingly proposed for himself. The connection between the disease and the comic faculty is not so unreasonable as it appears at first. The invalid, who could supply mi…
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