gentle breeze, and with it comes a grateful sense-'tis wonderful, he knows not what it is; it seems a feeling midway between taste and hearing. He perceives a fragrance in the air, in flowers and fruits;

And all the spicery of Paradise,

To him first known, in thrilling ecstacy
Bring to his ravished soul a charm, a joy,
And spread within and round a new creation.
The tasteless lily now delights him, while
His cautious hand selects the fragrant rose ;
And as he finds some hidden perfume sweet,
The jessamine, the frankincense or myrrh,

Transported into bliss, he feasts his new-born sense.

The world around has not changed; to him is given another means of communication with it. Added to his other senses, he has now the sense of smelling. How elevated is his being, compared with what it was, when he had only power to move! Suppose, at the close of this day, he should reason with himself. He would say, "but four days since, I pressed this lawn, unconscious of its softness-I moved in silence through this vocal grove, heard not the music which surrounded me, nor could I add my own. Fruits and flowers were spread before me, untasted, unperceived. I am now connected with the outward world by feeling, which enables me to discover what forms and influences surround me-I can hear my own voice, and that of other beings, to cheer and animate me-I can taste and enjoy the fruits, can smell and am enlivened by fragrance: and what is still more wonderful, I can now, as I recline upon this, my place of feasting and repose, recall all the various sensations I have experienced." The operations of his senses produced his memory-it was the result of his various impressions, which he was enabled to compare.

While he is thus pleasantly recalling to mind the pleasures of this day, we will permit him to yield to the soft influences of sleep, and mark him as he shall appear on the morrow, when he shall have received his last and most wonderful sense, that of sight. However acute his other senses were, he would form but imperfect conceptions of the material world-his being would be incomplete, and, under ordinary circumstances, incompetent to its own support. Although all our senses are avenues of information, the ministers of the soul, the medium of communication with other beings and other worlds, yet none conveys to us such a variety of sensations, and on no one are we so much dependant for improvement, as upon sight. It is

God's highest gift to man; without it, he could never have answered the purposes of his existence. Without sight, the world would still have been a wilderness, and man,

"Fixed like a plant to one peculiar spot."

We have, perhaps unkindly, held Adam through five tedious days of creation, and have now consigned him to repose, to bestow on him the crown of his perfection. As this night corresponds with that one, described by the divine historian, when the Creator caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and from his side he took a rib and made a woman, we may introduce her to him, at the same time he is introduced to the world.

"Now morn her rosy steps in th' eastern clime

Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearls,
When Adam waked."

You can easily imagine his sensations, when, standing erect, he beheld the beauties of Paradise spread before him. All his other feelings were feeble, compared with his present. He stood entranced. He before had felt, had heard, had tasted, now he sees delicious Eden.

"Goodliest trees, laden with fairest fruits,
Blossoms and fruits, at once of golden hue,
Appeared, with gay enamelled colors mixed,
On which the sun more glad impressed his beams
Than on fair evening's cloud, so lovely seemed
That landscape: and of pure, now purer air
Meets his approach, and to his heart inspires
Vernal delight and joy. Now gentle gales,
Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense
Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole
Those balmy spoils." His wondering eyes may meet
Unbounded beauties; flowers worthy of Paradise.
Ripe, golden fruit in rich luxuriance hung,
Tempting alike both eye and taste;

And birds, in gorgeous pageantry adorned,
Make vocal every grove with music sweet.
Adam thus stood and gazed in ecstacy;

To the bright sun he raised his ardent eye,
But turned in haste from that pure light intense,

Fearful he'd looked upon forbidden fire.

Now came the loveliest sight. Was it a dream?

Before him stood himself, another self,

Yet fairer seemed, more beautiful than all

The works of Paradise-the last-the best

The fairest of creation-it was Eve.

We now behold a human being, connected with the outward

world by five different commnnications, by all of which he

receives different sensations, or information of what is going on around him. All are necessary to his happiness and improvement, and no one could possibly supply the place or perform the office of another. It is true that in after life, the others could unite and help to remedy a defect caused by a loss of one of the senses, but a greater part of the information which might have been communicated by that sense, would be forever lost. The hearing could not make good the loss of sight, though in after life it would supply some of its functions. The feeling could not discharge the duties of the taste and smell. They are all so admirably contrived as to act separately and collectively for a common good.

We have observed the supposed progress a being would make, if endowed with one sense at a time; and we have seen the great changes he must undergo, as these new sources of thought and action were opened. How simple is the action of unclosing the eyelids, and yet how wonderful the effect! What an imperfect conception must we have had of the beauties of creation, had we never known the charms of sight; and how many of our sweetest pleasures must have remained forever undiscovered, even unsuspected, if the ear had not been formed! All flowers would "waste their sweetness on the desert air," unperceived by us, without the sense of smell; and though we could live without taste, its loss would substract materially from our knowledge and enjoyment.

We must not forget that the senses are only the ministers of the soul, and not the soul itself; they are the communications through which the soul is brought to act upon the material world: they are the conductors, by which the ethereal fire, wrapped up in us, is transmitted to other beings and to distant worlds-and in bringing these senses to act most effectually upon the mind, and in the arrangement and preservation of thought, lies the whole secret of human improvement. The soul, that perceives, that thinks, remembers, must be immortal; the senses may be the result of organization; they are not constituent parts of the soul, since the soul, if it exist hereafter, must exist without them.

"T is wonderful! yet such is man.

One reflection naturally impresses itself upon the mind, at this part of our subject. We have seen what an important change the human soul undergoes when endowed with any new

sense, or, to speak more properly, when a new avenue to the mind is opened; and, judging from analogy, we have the strongest reason to believe, that it has higher and nobler capacities than any we now possess, yet to be unfolded in a more favorable state of existence. Who could have formed the dimmest conceptions of sight, without a knowledge of it? Who would have suspected himself capable of such exquisite emotions, such vast improvement, by the arrangement of so small an organ as the eye? and who can limit the boundary of our being, when, in other states, new sources of thought and intelligence shall be opened to us, far greater than has ever entered into our imaginations!

Our senses are to our minds the ministers of thought and feeling they inform us of the things of earth and of the glorious universe-they bring to us the ideas of light, of heat, and of sound, of motion, of tastes and odors. All these the mind receives, compares, and of them forms the storehouse of memory and reflection. The mind was antecedent to the senses; but its growth, the extent of its capacities, its passions, its hopes, its desires, its loves, its hates, its joys and its griefs, have all come to it through the medium of the senses. Extinguish life, and every organ of sensation remains perfect. The eye and the ear are as perfect in the recently dead, as the living; yet the brightest scene has no effect upon the inanimate eye, nor the sweetest sounds upon the mute and silent ear: the mind, the soul is wanting-let that return, and, like the rising sun, it lights up the whole creation, and sends joy, and vigor, and animation through the whole system. Cut off my limbs, the mind, still active, exercises all her functions-close up my ears, I still can see, and taste, and smell-pluck out my eyes, and seal every avenue of sense, the mind is still the same conscious, thinking being as before-destroy this body, and scatter its ashes to the four winds, the mind survives; and, having ceased to be combined with earth and sense, in its expanded or contracted state, with its good or evil qualities, it returns to Him who gave it.

We know too little of ourselves, how we live, and move, and

The contemplation of ourselves, as connected with this, and destined to another world, is a sublime subject. It opens that boundless prospect of infinite wisdom and infinite creation-it unlocks us from the sordid cares of time, and, for a moment, elevates us to a higher atmosphere and a purer source

of enjoyment-it breaks down the corroded walls of prejudice, that divide man from his brother, and teaches us, as we have one common Maker, so we have all one common nature. It enlarges the borders of our charity, to comprehend all mankind, tongues and nations, and to look with compassion, rather than contempt, on those whose senses are under less favorable influences than our own. It should inspire us with gratitude, that we can know so much, and with humility, that we know so little.

That the senses are the ministers of the mind is obvious, but how they are connected with it is unknown. Nor is it necessary perhaps for our improvement, that we should know. Experience teaches us their proper use, memory treasures up their impressions, and reason builds of them the forms and habitations of thought. As the mighty ocean is the receptacle of all earth's tributary streams, rising from its bosom and wafted by the elements over every land to fertilize and adorn it, then to return to its parent fountain, so the mind is the source and centre of the senses. By a proper cultivation, they enrich and adorn it-by neglect, or improper direction, they pour in the turbid waters, where storms and passions agitate a dark and troubled sea.

As we survey that part of ourselves which we have considered under the term senses, we are astonished at the extent and variety of its construction and operation. For what purpose is this high design, this vast contrivance? How admirably it is all calculated for our pleasure and enjoyment! It sometimes brings pain, but how seldom, to the numerous instances of delight! We are connected with the world in the most agreeable manner we could imagine. It seems as if the elements were made with an express view to our wants and capacities of enjoyment. We open our eyes, and the light stands ready to communicate the forms and colors which surround us-our ears find their desires gratified in every motion of the airand the lungs inherit an exhaustless fountain of life and animation in the atmosphere: earth's flowers and fruits, and all the myriads of animated beings that walk the land, that fill the air, or swarm the ocean, are but so many ministers to our desires, through the medium of the senses. And is present enjoyment and present improvement all that was intended by this sublime arrangement of a Deity?