a tribute of respect to her unparalleled devotion and heroism, ordered a frigate to escort her in safety. Let those who may have enjoyed such a moment, fancy the raptures with which they greeted each other. The occupiers of their castle were obliged to quit it at a day's notice, and ordered to refund whatever property they had destroyed, and which, Ian Ciar, was not tardy in enforcing. They, afterwards, lived long and happy, and, as the chief, in 45, took the side of neither of the contending parties, the estate is still in the possession of Ian Ciar's descendants, who, with a degree of pride, which may be justified, exhibit to the visiting stranger, the sword and the whistle which their brave ancestor won from O'Hanlen, and which, among other relics of antiquity, are kept at Dunolly house, as some of the proofs of the unflinching bravery which marked the Macdougalls of Lorn.

THE RIVER NIGER.

[THROUGH the kindness of our London publishers, we have been favoured with a sight of a few sheets of Lander's Travels, the adventurous discoverer of the termination of the Niger, now in the press, from which we extract the following interesting sketch of a nocturnal voyage down that mighty river.]

"We passed several beautiful islands in the course of the day, all cultivated and inhabited, but low and flat. The width of the river appeared to vary considerably, sometimes it seemed to be two or three miles across, and at others, doubled that width.. The current drifted us along very rapidly, and we guessed it to be running at the rate of three or four miles an hour. The direction of the stream continued nearly east. The day had been excessively warm, and the sun set in beauty and grandeur, shooting forth rays tinged with the most heavenly hues, which extended to the zenith. Nevertheless, the appearance of the firmanent, all glorious as it was, betokened a coming storm; the wind whistled through the tall rushes, and darkness soon covered the earth like a veil.

This rendered us more anxious than ever to land somewhere, we cared not where, and to endeavour to procure shelter for the night, if not in a village, at least under a tree. Accordingly, rallying the drooping spirits of our men, we encouraged them to renew their exertions by setting them the example, and our canoe darted silently and swiftly down the current. We were enabled to steer her rightly by the vividness of the lightning, which flashed across the water continually, and by this means also we could distinguish any danger before us, and avoid the numerous small islands with which the river is interspersed, and which otherwise might have embarrassed us very seriously.

"But though we could perceive almost close to us several lamps burning in comfortable-looking huts, and could plainly distinguish the voices of their occupants, and though we exerted all our strength to get at them, we were foiled in every attempt, by reason of the sloughs and fens, and we were at last obliged to abandon them in despair. Some of these lights, after leading us a long way, eluded our search, and vanished from our sight like an ignus fatuus, and others danced about we knew not how, But what was more vexatious than all, after we had got into an inlet, and toiled and tugged for a full half hour against the current, which in this little channel was uncommonly rapid, to approach a village from which we thought it flowed, both village and lights seemed to sink into the earth, the sound of the people's voices ceased of a sudden, and when we fancied we were actually close to the spot, we strained our eyes in vain to see a single hut, all was gloomy, dismal, cheerless, and solitary. It seemed the work of enchantment; every thing was as visionary as sceptres grasped in sleep.' We had paddled along the banks a distance of not less than thirty miles, every inch of which we had attentively examined, but not a bit of dry land could any where be discovered which was firm enough to bear our weight. Therefore, we resigned ourselves to circumstances, and all of us having been refreshed with a little cold rice and honey, and water from the stream, we permitted the canoe to drift down with the current, for our men were too much fatigued with the labours of the day to work any longer.

"But here a fresh evil arose which we were unprepared to meet. An incredible number of hippopotami arose very near us, and came plashing, snorting, and plunging all around the canoe, and placed us in imminent danger. Thinking to frighten them off, we fired a shot or two at them, but the noise only called up, from the water and out of the fens, about as many more of their unwieldy companions, and we were more closely beset than before. Our people, who had never in all their lives been exposed in a canoe to such huge and formidable beasts, trembled with fear and apprehension, and absolutely wept aloud, and their terror was not a little increased by the dreadful peals of thunder which rattled over their heads, and by the awful darkness which prevailed, broken at intervals by flashes of lightning, whose powerful glare

was truly awful. Our people tell us, that these formidable animals freqently upset canoes in the river, when every one in them is sure to perish. These came so close to us, that we could reach them with the butt-end of a gun. When I fired at the first, which I must have hit, every one of them came to the surface of the water, and pursued us so fast over to the north bank, that it was with the greatest difficulty imaginable we could keep before them. Having fired a second time, the report of my gun was followed by a loud roaring noise, and we seemed to increase our distance from them. There were two Bornou men among our crew who were not so frightened as the rest, having seen some of these creatures before on lake Tchad, where, they say, there are plenty of them. However, the terrible hippopotami did us no kind of mischief whatever; they were only sporting and wallowing in the river for their own amusement, no doubt, at first when we interrupted them; but had they upset our canoe, we should have paid dearly for it.

"We observed a bank on the north side of the river shortly after this, and I proposed halting on it for the night, for I wished much to put my foot on firm land again. This, however, not one of the crew would consent to, saying, that if the gewo roua, or water elephant, did not kill them, the crocodiles certainly would do so before the morning, and I thought afterwards that we might have been carried off like the Cumbrie people on the islands near Yaoorie, if we had tried the experiment. Our canoe is only large enough to hold us all when sitting, so that we have no chance of lying down. Had we been able to muster up thirty thousand cowries at Rabba, we might have purchased one which would have carried us all very comfortably. A canoe of this sort would have served us for living in entirely, we should have had no occasion to land, excepting to obtain our provisions; and, having performed our day's journey, might have anchored fearlessly at night.

"Finding we could not induce our people to land, we agreed to continue on all night. The eastern horizon became very dark, and the lightning more and more vivid ; indeed, I never recollect having seen such strong fork lightning before in my life. All this denoted the approach of a storm. At eleven p.m. it blew somewhat stronger than a gale, and at midnight the storm was at its height. The wind was so strong, that it washed over the sides of the canoe several times, so that she was in danger of filling. Driven about by the wind, our frail little bark became unmanageable; but at length we got near a bank, which in some measure protected us, and we were fortunate enough to lay hold of a thorny tree against which we were driven, and which was growing nearly in the centre of the stream. Presently we fastened the canoe to its branches, and wrapping our cloaks round our persons, for we felt overpowered with fatigue, and with our legs projecting half over the sides of the little vessel, which, for want of room, we were compelled to do, we lay down to sleep. There is something, I believe, in the nature of a tempest which is favourable to slumber, at least so thought my brother; for, though the thunder continued to roar, and the wind to blow,-though the rain beat in our faces, and our canoe lay rocking like a little cradle, stil! he slept soundly.

"The wind kept blowing hard from the eastward till midnight, when it became calm. The rain then descended in torrents, accompanied by thunder and lightning of the most awful description. We lay in our canoe drenched with water, and our little vessel was filling so fast, that two people were obliged to be constantly bailing out the water to keep her afloat. The water-elephants, as the natives term the hippopotami, frequently came snorting near us, but fortunately did not touch our canoe. The storm continued until three in the morning of the 17th, when it became clear, and we saw the stars sparkling like gems over our heads. Therefore, we again proceeded on our journey down the river, there being sufficient light for us to see our way, and two hours after, we put into a small, insignificant fishing village, called Dacannie, where we landed very gladly.

"Before we arrived at this island, we had passed a great many native towns and villages, but in consequence of the early hour at which we were travelling, we considered it would be imprudent to stop at any of them, as none of the natives were out of their huts. Had we landed earlier, even near one of these towns, we might have alarmed the inhabitants, and been taken for a party of robbers, or, as they are called in the country, jacallees. They would have taken up arms against us, and we might have lost our lives; so that for our safety we continued down the river, although we had great desire to go on shore."

PROFESSIONAL JEALOUSY.-The trial of an English medical gentleman, Dr. Southcote, lately took place at Dieppe. A blacksmith of this town, while engaged at work, some time since, received a spark in his eye (a very common accident in his trade), which produced that very painful disease called staphyloma. For this he was successfully treated by Dr. Southcote, after the failure of the French practitioners. He even relieved the patient by an advance of money. Mark the consequence. His French contemporaries instituted a prosecution against him, for practising without a license, and proved their case by the evidence of the fellow whom he had cured, and to whom he had, in addition, rendered pecuniary assistance! Dr. Southcote has been, in consequence, convicted and sentenced to fine and imprisonment.

DEATH OF THE MAJOR, alias THE SCOTTISH PAGANINI.

THERE are very few of our citizens, who, in their perambulations through the streets of Glasgow, can have missed observing the ideot musician, who lately attributed to himself, the lofty title of the Scottish Paganini. His figure was one which was peculiarly striking, and ever attracted the notice of the delineator or painter of character. The expression of his countenance was in fact a study for the Physiognomist, and the seat of the finer passions of the soul, viz. the mouth, might have afforded materials for the elucidation of Lavater's most interesting theories. Alas, that figure is now beneath the sod, and that open mouth is for once and for ever closed! The Cholera, that fearful scourge of the world, has borne away from the Trongate, another of its wellknown characters, and deprived the younger portion of our population of a pastime, in which, at least, for the comfort of the poor musician, they frequently too warmly indulged. The poor fellow bade adieu to the miseries of life, and to the mockeries of music, on Wednesday; and has left behind him a character and a name, which mayhap will outlive many of his wiser and more fortunate contemporaries. How strange is posthumous fame! Blind Alick is associated with the history of our City at the close of the last and the commencement of the present century, and the poor Major, who has no grave-stone to mark where his ashes rest, stands every chance of being recollected, when those who have marble mausoleums are utterly forgotten!

The MAJOR's musical knowledge, although, like many other ambitious characters of the age, he attributed to himself a great His instrument name, was neither very scientific nor tasteful.

was not like that of Mori's, manufactured in Cremona. It was his own handiwork, while his bow, which he wielded with a peculiar fire, resembled more the orchestra-ruling sceptre of Dragonetti, than any thing that we have ever seen applied to a common violin. His most famous Concerto was founded on that most grateful of all melodies to a droughty musician, "Jenny put the Kettle on," the very thought of which, so moved the minstrel himself, that it fairly set him in motion, and made him caper as nimbly as if he had got lessons from Terpsichore herself.

We believe the poor Major never knew either the bliss or the woe of matrimony. His form and bearing, in fact, were not well calculated to win a woman's heart, and without gaining that citadel of the affections marriage is nought but misery. If he was not united to woman by the ties of love and the blessings of the church, he was, nevertheless, bound to her by the mystic bond of pelf and business. The fact is, the musician formed a co-partnery in his peripatetic wanderings with one, who, although she had never studied at the Academie de Musique at Paris, was a first rate danseuse. Around the violently excited violinist she frisked and pirouetted, if not with the grace of a Taglioni, with all the grimace of a Grimaldi. This interesting personage was no other than the well known" COAL MARY," who realized, in her cast of countenance, and in the number of her reticules, (Scottice pokes) the truth of her noble and aristocratical designation. The co-partnery continued long, and was carried on, we believe, with success. The duet and the pas de deux, touched many hearts, and the performers hence touched many coppers. A dispute, as in many more lucra tive co-partneries, arose, from a supposition of a mal-division of profits. It was alleged, on the part of his fair partner, that the Major was appropriating, to himself, a too great proportion of the pelf. This called for an explanation on the part of the musician, who, out of the honourable feelings of his breast, and, no doubt, with no feelings of selfishnes, slyly, yet, boldly, stated, to COAL MARY'S allegation, "weel, Mary, my hinny, I'll tak a' the bawbees, and you'll get a' the pennies!"

Whether this speech soothed the suspicions of Mary towards the musician, in truth we know not, and it is at this hour, alas! of little moment to speculate, whether it did or did not. The Cremona of the Major now hangs silent in his lonely cabin in the Double Dykes, whence its owner was carried away, under the pangs of the disease which now peculiarly affects the poor and naked, while the reticules of Mary will occasion no disputes among her numerous heirs we mean the heirs of poverty and wretchedness as to whom these momentos of the pirouetter now belong! Peace to the manes of the Major and his Mary!

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

A MEMOIR of the Early Operations of the Burmese War, by Lieut. H. LISTER MAW, is in the press.

A Treatise on the Preparation of Printing Ink, both Black and Coloured, by WILLIAM SAVAGE, author of Practical Hints on Decorative Printing, is announced for immediate publication.

PORTRAIT OF LORD BROUGHAM.

We have just seen the most faithful and beautifully executed portrait, of that distinguished individual Lord Brougham and Vaux that has ever yet appeared. It is a mezzotinto engraving by the celebrated "Lupton," after a painting by "Lonsdale."

The Chancellor is represented as if listening to some applicantthe eyes and the whole countenance are most powerfully expressive, and the effect of a searching and comprehensive mind appears equal to the most obtruse or complicated circumstances that might on any occasion present themselves.

As a work of art it is most creditable, both to the painter and engraver the attitude is easy and well chosen-there is no appearance of restraint or stiffness, as if sitting for a picture, and indeed, the drawing, throughout, is managed with artist-like dexterity. Were we inclined to find any fault, it would be, that the legs appear rather too long, and gradually tapered, for the muscular dimensions of the body.

The same objection applies to the hands, but these are not the essential points of such a picture as this, nor are we sure, that in making this assertion, we may be correct. Mr. Lupton is a firstrate mezzotinto engraver, and on this subject he seems to have exerted his talents to the very utmost. Nothing can be more clear in the lights, nor more delicately touched in the details, without in the least disturbing the repose or general effect of the whole. This print will surely have a very extensive sale. The patriot's friend the admirer of genius-the lover of justice and exalted morality, will surely all show their respect for an individual, who possesses and practises all of these great qualities, to the utmost of human power, by securing one of these prints, the best likeness yet published. In particular, we think those who have had long, tedious and vexatious law suits, equitably, satisfactorily, and expeditiously settled by his promptitude and energy, will furnish themselves with a memorandum of the man to whom they are so much indebted.

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

"ATTICUS" is under consideration. We fear, however, that he is too personal for our columns.

Lines "On the Cholera" are put into the hands of our poetical critic.

"E. H." and " W. S. M." have been received. "O. P. Q.'s" East Country Reminiscence will appear as soon as possible.

On referring to the MS. of the last number of the "Tales, Sketches and Traditions of the Gael," we find that our ingenious correspondent is correct, and that we have been in error, when we substituted Og for Hug, we were in part led into this mistake from the existing differences of opinion regarding Celtic orthography, not being aware to what rule the writer of the article adhered. As it is necessary for the sake of the majority of our readers to give explanations of such Gaelic phrases and cognomens as may be used, we shall feel obliged by the author furnishing them himself, as we daresay he will think—Is mairg a rachadh air a bhannaig is a theanna aig fein. If he will be at the trouble of doing this, he shall find, that in future, we shall only act according to the old proverb, take little more than cuid an l' searraich do'n cliatha.

honourable trophy to the talents of its author. Since the author's death a volume of hymns has also been published.

Although Dr. Dorridge had not possessed the abilities which his prose works indicate, the constant and increasing course of study, to which he subjected himself, must have originated valuable powers and qualities. He rose every morning at five o'clock, and thus secured to himself four hours of uninterrupted seclusion from the world. He was indefatigable in the pursuit of knowledge; his memory was retentive, and the most liberal feeling towards those who differed from him in the less essential points of religion, was a characteristic and amiable trait in the character of this distinguished Christian, who breathed away his soul in peace at Lisbon, whither he had gone for the benefit of his health in the year 1751, leaving a wi dow, a son and three daughters, whom he used playfully to call, Faith, Hope, and Charity.

Of the poetry of Dr. Doddridge, we cannot speak in terms of high admiration. It is exactly of that calibre which a well-educated and studious individual might be expected to write. A competent judge has selected and published some of his best specimens ; but even in these we do not discern the stamp of genius, so distinctly defined, as to induce us to describe their author as a poet of the first rank, in the records of the English muse. The specimen with which our readers are probably most familiar is the thirty-third of the paraphrases of the church of Scotland. The compilers, however, have made important alterations, a presumptive proof of the indifference of the original:

THIRTY-THIRD PARAPHRASE

WHAT, tho' no flow'rs the fig-tree clothe,

Tho' vines their fruit deny;

The labour of the olive fail,

And fields no meat supply.

Tho' from the fold, with sad surprise,
My flock cut off, I see;

Tho' famine pine in empty stalls,
Where herds were wont to be.

Yet, in the Lord will I be glad,
And glory in his love;

In him I'll joy who will the God
Of my salvation prove.

God is the treasure of my soul,
The source of lasting joy;

A joy which want shall not impair,
Nor death, itself, destroy.

DR. DODDRIDGE.

So firm the saint's foundation rest, His hopes can ne'er remove; Sustain'd by God's Almighty band And shelter'd in his love.

The olive and the fig, may fail,
The vines their fruit deny;
Famine, through all the fields prevail,
And flocks and herds may die.

God is the treasure of my soul,
A source of sacred joy ;

Which no affliction can controul,

Nor death, itself, destroy.

In alluding to Dr. Doddridge, as a poet, we must, in justice, quote his celebrated lines on the motto of his family, "dum vivimus vivamus." :—

Live, while you live, the epicure would say,
And seize the pleasures of the passing day;
Live, while you live, the sacred preacher cries,
And give to God each moment as it flies.
Lord, in my view, let both united be,
I live in pleasure, while I live to Thee.

LITERARY CRITICISM.

SATURDAY EVENING.

By the Author of the "NATURAL HISTORY OF ENTHUSIASM." Holdsworth and Ball, London, 1832.

IT is the glory of our day, that there are so many valuable helps afforded us, for the acquisition of every kind of knowledge. And, notwithstanding, that, in the religious world particularly, there is much issued from the press, that is not only useless, but positively injurious to evangelical piety-yet, if we "take forth the precious from the vile," we shall find that they are inexcusable, who (so far as human agency is concerned) live without God, and without hope in the world. We, certainly, were never more impressed with the truth of what we have now stated than, after having read a work which has just now been published, under the title of "Saturday Evening." The subjects of this invaluable volume are well chosen, and full of interest to every class of sincere Christians, besides, being discussed in that bold and luminous style which characterise the writings of the author of the "Natural History of Enthusiasm." Unlike the ephemeral and sectarian productions of the cautious, compromising religionist, it will induce, to a salutary exercise of intellect on the part of the reader, such as cannot fail to impress him with a certainty and satisfaction that its author, is one who would preserve the completeness and consistency of Apostolic virtue. consistency of Apostolic virtue. It deserves, and we have little doubt, will soon obtain a place in the first shelf of the library of every Minister of the Gospel, and Student of Theology; while its general diffusion among private Christians would do much for the preventing of Antinomian delusion, and for restoring the vigorous faith of the primitive age-making us men of holy action-of promptitude and courage, as well as men of meditation. We are certain, that such of our readers as may be prevailed upon to peruse the work, will thank us for having drawn their attention to it.

The following extract, made ad aperturum libri, and without our intending to determine by it the author's reputation, will give some knowledge of the original style of thought, and luminous expression, which brighten and adorn every page of the volume. It is from the Sermon "ON THE STATE OF SECLU SION."

The place of car trial is as effectively a prison, as if our sky were a hemisphere of brass. We may indeed look out freely on every side upon the populous regions of illimitable space; but with the inhabitants of those regions we can hold no parley. Or if we look within the walls, it is still, and it is always true, that "the things eternal," that is to say, the permanent and universal principles of the moral system-the constant tendencies and ultimate issues of good and evil, are hidden and unseen; while those things that are (gorxaign) for a season -"the things temporal," do, by their irregularities, their complexity, their very insignificance, as well as their obtrusive glare, serve more to conceal than to display-more to confound than to illustrate, the great axioms of eternal virtue. The attractions, the dangers, the urgent interests of the present state, form (may we say) a screen which, with its gaudy and various colours, its painted pomps and trickeries, hangs on every side before the eye of man, encircling his theatre of exercise, and fencing out from his knowledge the great world of intellectual life. That the rule of seclusion is the law of the divine government might be inferred, with soine degree of certainty, from what we behold of the actual construction of the material universe. Why is it that the solid frame-work of nature (the purpose and intention of which can be nothing else than to sustain conscious beings) instead of presenting a continuous surface, that might be traversed from side to side, is actually broken up into innumerable globes; and these globes suspended in thin space at incalculable distances one from another? Why is it that, to obtain standingroom for his intelligent family, the Creator has taken a latitude, a a height, a depth, which to created minds is equivalent to absolute infinitude? Why, unless it be to give effect to this necessary law of seclusion and separation? We say that there is seen, legibly inscribed upon the breadth of the midnight skies, a truth succinct. ly expressed in the words," The things eternal (universal) are unseen. And that special arrangement of the material system is peculiarly worthy of notice, which, while all intercourse between neighbouring worlds is effectively prevented, allows the vastness of the creation to be a spectacle to each portion of it. In truth,

nothing in physical philosophy is so amazing as the means by which objects, much more remote one from the other than the utmost range of calculation can extend to, are made perceptible one to the other. If the mere greatness of creation is wonderful, there is even a higher, or a more superlative wonder, in the fact that this greatness should be cognizable from every point; or that, at any point where a percipient being may have his station, thither, as to a centre, the lines of knowledge should converge, so that the mind of that being should gather to itself true and distinct notices of whatever floats within the immeasurable sphere of stellar light!

And if so amazing an apparatus has been had recourse to for the purpose of conveying to us a knowledge of the greatness of the creation-if God, after extending his productive power incalculably, has superadded to the whole a lastre which exhibits all to all; so likewise has he enabled us, by fair methods of inference and analogy, to attain the belief that all worlds are (like our own) the homes of life and intelligence: and we are then, by the same rules of analogy, led to suppose that the occupants of each of these widely separated spheres are, like ourselves, confined to their several birth-places-are, like ourselves, interdicted correspondence with the universal realm, and denied (as we) the benefitif indeed it were a benefit, that might accrue from a more extensive experience than that which belongs to their home history.

This same law of seclusion which we see legibly written upon the material universe, is also carried out through all the arrangements of our own world, and in many modes takes effect, until each individual of mankind is straitened in his sphere, and shut up within a circle exceedingly small; so that if his particular experience be compared with the entire experience, not indeed of the universe, but only of the human race, or even of one generation of the race, the disproportion is incalculable; and so it is certainly true to him, that "the things eternal (universal) are unseen;" while the things which he actually beholds are those only that are partial, and "for a season.'

To effectuate the purposes of the moral system, and to secure the necessary conditions of the exercise of principles, it is not enough that man should be confined to one world;-he must, within that world, be again and yet again secluded: and this is done by various means; as first-The entire human family is parcelled out through time, by the succession of generations and as the term of life barely measures two of the periods wherein the race is renovated, each generation knows only its immediate predecessors; and, except so far as tradition and history convey to it (like fragments from a wreck) some loose particulars of the knowledge of the more ancient races of men, each generation, each successive rank, comes forward as a novice upon the stage of life, knowing absolutely nothing of all that is to follow it, and almost nothing of what preceded it.—The rolling and swelling flood of human life moves on in billows so brief and proud, that, in rising to the brow of each watery ridge, nothing of the general expanse is beheld ;-nothing seen, but the surge and fall of the precursive

wave.

Those peculiar physical sentiments that distinguish the several stages of life, or that naturally spring from the circumstances attending each stage, greatly intercept the transmission, or natural descent of experience, from one generation to another.-The pride and heat of youthful hope render the youth, conscious as he is of vigour, impatient of paternal admonition; and then the pride and shame of the father, whose experience is in fact the history of his own follies, or crimes, again forbid, on his part, a true and candid delivery of the wisdom he has so hardly gained. That knowledge of life which the son receives from his father, is indeed valuable ; but it is scarcely more than a grain or two in quantity.

Again, the human race of each generation is divided, and effectively sequestered by-remoteness of geographical position; by antipathy of races; by discordancy of tastes, and modes of life; and, most of all, by diversity of speech.-Speech, the prerogative and glory of man, the instrument both of knowledge and virtue, and the principal organ of advancement in every line, has become jarred by so many discords, that, though it subserves its purposes within particular circles, it utterly refuses to favour universal intercourse; and, on the contrary, enhances and perpetuates all those other alienations that spring from remoteness of place, or dissimilarity of habits. It is by language (the very means of communion) that mankind is severed and estranged, and almost as much repelled, one from another, as if they were of different species, or had come together from different worlds. Who would have thought that men-the offspring of one womb, and parted perhaps only by a river or chain of mountains, should ever be reduced to the meagreness of mute signs and gestures!

But the law of seclusion does not here cease to operate.-By the perils, necessities, and straits of ordinary life, by the pressure of every day's burden, by the opposition of private interests, and the contracted motives of selfishness, every man (more or less) has his attention so cencentrated upon the small surface of his particular advantages, his hopes and his fears, that he is very far from being a free spectator of that circle or theatre of life which actually comes within his range of observation. As his purposes are partial, so are his habits of contemplation :—he walks in one path, and gathers all the wisdom that he does at all gather, on the narrow line of that one path. Not one man in ten thousand is as wise as the facts he knows, or might know, would make him.

Then moreover it is implied in the very supposition of a system wherein many independent impulses are incessantly traversing each other, that each single train of events shall present as much of intricacy, of confusion, and of apparent anomaly, as of order, or abstract principle :-every man, in his private sphere, has to do, not with the average result of general rules; but with the special chances of single throws ;-the incidents and occasions that come athwart him, for the trial of his motives, are fortuitous combinations, more than instances that might exemplify any given rule. Every man meets with at least as many exceptions, or seeming exceptions, as cases in point. Much ambiguity attaches to the course of affairs, and ordinarily, that which is most obtrusive, or is most importunate, and clamorous, in urging its pretensions, is precisely what ought to be disregarded, and put out of the question of right and wrong. Comparatively few of the matters that come under the hand of man, range themselves clearly beneath general principles. Scarcely does he catch a glimpse, amid every day's hurry and care, of the working of abstract moral laws; but rather is tempted, every hour, to believe that exceptions, if not more frequent, are at least more valid than general rules.

The faculty of generalization is indeed given to man; and he has also the propensity to employ it; and there are individuals who, in the exercise of this power, gain acquaintance with whatever is true and permanent: but, in looking to the mass of mankind, moral generalization does scarcely more than bud, or give some inert indications of its existence, just as the chrysalis does, of the possession of the instincts of its future activity. Every circumstance of vulgar life opposes the disposition of the soul to spring upward, or stretch the wing of meditation towards a higher sphere: -the smallness of common affairs, as well as their urgency; their uniformity, or sameness of recurrence; and their multiplicity ;the contaminations of life, and its ridicule also; the absurdity and the folly that infest all parts of human conduct, as well as the abjectness of the miseries that afflict mankind, are all so many causes of depression, or of limitation, that confine man to a spot on the surface of earth, and hedge about his prospect.

It is true that, in every age, the more intelligent and sagacious portion of mankind has, amid the confusion and ambiguity of the moral system rightly inferred universal principles; and, with more or less admixture of error, has reached and defined the unalterable canons of virtue. But (revelation apart) the process through which this wisdom was gained has been too abstruse, or difficult, to recommend itself to vulgar minds; and such, conversant always with instances that seem to contradict the rule, have been prone to believe that, to pay homage to ABSTRACT TRUTH, is to worship a powerless or a sleeping divinity.

It may perplex us to contemplate the condition of man, as thus conversant as much with the anomalies as with the rules of the moral system: nevertheless the fact of bis being so, whatever purpose it may be destined to fulfil, is manifestly only a part of the universal constitution under the conditions of which, as it seems, the innumerable families of the creation, as well as ourselves, are placed :—if men, individually, are confined to a narrow line of things, and if nations are debarred much intercourse, one with another, and if generations come and pass away with little knowledge of their precursors, and transmitting little of themselves to their successors, all this separation and seclusion is only the ramification of that great principle which, as we see, has broken up the solid material of the universe into innumerable gobules, and has swung each little sphere in the centre of an impassable solitude of

space.

But how much soever of ambiguity or confusion may attend universal moral principles, so far as they are to be gathered by each individual from his particular experience, neither those principles, nor the method of establishing them, are really invalid, or vague.—The true description of them is, that they are at once demonstrable, or certain; but not obtrusive. This is the uniform character of every kind of practical or theoretic wisdom in the present state;—it is valid, and ascertainable; but not loud or importunate in its mode of challenging attention. Whoever will, may acquaint himself with truth and virtue: but neither truth nor virtue stands on the highway, or forces herself upon the notice of passengers. All this is only in harmony with the apparent intention of the visible world, considered as a framework for the support of a moral system. The very same law which divides the family of God into so many separate communities, imposes (within the circle of each community) a reserve, a silence, upon wisdom and virtue.

Wisdom and virtue calmly utter their maxims; but compel no attention, no obedience: they are not trumpet-tongued; neither do they adduce, as they might, in support of their doctrine, the evidence of that great book of facts wherein is written the complete history of man. Let it it only be imagined that, in every controversy between the inducements of evil, and the reasons of virtue, there were exhibited to the wavering spirit all the cases in point, and all the issues of those cases, that stand upon the faithful records of the human family of all ages. What impetuosity of passion, what audacity, could resist the inference in favour of virtue; or rush upon its guilty pleasures through the crowd of a million of victims? No such force is granted, in the present state, to the reasons of virtue; and, turn which way we will, it is always true that "the things eternal are unseen-the things that are seen are temporal."