God, namely, the illustrations to be found in the actual course of things in this world. We have not noted any reason given by him for omitting so material a part of his subject; it seems to be a striking deficiency in his work. The great difficulty of treating this branch of the inquiry would, we should suppose, have given it the greater attractions to him. The attribute of power is proved, of course, by the same argument as the existence of God. But that he is all-knowing, just and beneficent, needs other illustration. The great difficulty of this argument arises from the existence of evil, and the infliction and the suffering of wrongs; we surmount these by the hypothesis, that all partial ill is universal good, and that the wrongs of the present life are compensated in another. The idea that an omnipotent being is malignant, is too horrid and appalling to be admitted, but upon the strongest evidence. The evidences that the Creator is not so, are sufficiently manifest in the world. The proofs of benevolence entirely preponderate. This includes justice, for we cannot conceive of a benevolent being as approving of, or purposely doing injustice. Hence a very strong argument-much stronger than those instanced by the author, is drawn in favor of future compensation for the evils and wrongs of this life. The argument is deduced from the attributes of the Deity supposed already to be proved. It is ably stated by Bishop Butler.

The constitution of the world demonstrates its governor not to be a malignant being; but to our imperfect view, it does not so clearly demonstrate his goodness. We see so many evidences of benevolence, that we suppose what seem exceptions, were we to judge from our own imperfect knowledge, are in fact not so. The Epicureans alleged the existence of evil against the doctrine of an intelligent Creator; considering it a proof of imperfection. There are two arguments on this subject, which are more satisfactory grounds of belief, than our own experience and observation of good and evil, happiness and misery, in this world.

In the first place, we cannot easily conceive an almighty Being as otherwise than good. There is some seeming incongruity and inconsistency in such a conception.

Secondly, we cannot suppose such a being to do wrong. Even allowing him, like the gods of the Epicureans, to be indifferent to the concerns of men, we cannot suppose him to be unjust, for this would be to suppose him malignant, since his injustice could not otherwise be accounted for. Now it would seem to be unjust in the Creator to give his creatures, universally, a deep and all predominant admiration of the beauty and surpassing excellence of benevolence, if it were a vain delusion and mockery, and he himself were without the quality. In short, we cannot believe in a God, without also believing in his goodness.

After establishing the existence and attributes of the Creator,

the obvious succession of topics in this science brings us next to the constitution of man, in which we seek for a knowledge of his relation to the Creator, and the foundation of duty,the foundation, not the superstructure, for this belongs to the science of ethics, or deontology,-and here we are at liberty to reason, in part, from the character and attributes of the Creator, as already established, for if we have proved that He is all powerful and just and benevolent, our theory of the constitution, relations, and des tiny of man, must be consistent with that character. And the connexion is close, and the consequence necessary, since if it be proved that man must be the creature of the deity, it follows of course that human destiny is subject to his control. The inquiries then are; first, what such a being as the deity is proved to be, will do? Second, what is man, as we experience him in ourselves, and observe him in others? The question is not whether the arguments on the subject go to the conclusion that man is mere matter, or a compound or combination of matter and some other substance that we call spirit, mind, or soul, but whether the latter doctrine is a fundamental and necessary one in this science. For a man may well believe the soul to be an immaterial substance, and yet not consider the doctrine as essential to the establishment of such a science as Natural Theology.

Whether we affirm or deny that man is mere matter, or a composition of this and something else, it is assumed that we know something of matter. Suppose then that we have got over Bishop Berkeley's doubts and objections, as to the proof of the existence of any such thing as matter, and admit that its existence is established beyond doubt, and that there really is, as there seems to be, an external world. What knowledge have we of the matter of which this exterior world consists? We can only answer from the intelligence given by our senses. Had we but one sense, instead of five, six, or seven, (for if we consider the feeling of heat and cold, and the power of perceiving resistance, two of them, the number will be seven,) we should get but little information of this external world; had we many more than we have, our knowledge would be much enlarged. The doctrine of the Platonists, of our author, and indeed of the far greater part of men, philosophers, and others, is that we may, by means of such senses as we have, obtain such a knowledge of the properties and capabilities of matter as to authorize us in the conclusion that it cannot think,-that something else must be superinduced to constitute feeling, perceiving, reasoning man.

What an obscure and subtile inquiry is here proposed? We know little of the nature and essential properties of matter; we witness its phenomena, or rather a few of its phenomena; what

proportion we know not; we witness other phenomena of the human mind, of which we have a more full knowledge, since our experience and observation extend to all its properties, powers, and capacities; we then say that these latter are so diverse from and incompatible with the former, that God himself cannot endow matter with the sentient principle. This we say without knowing whether there is but one or are millions of species of matter going to the composition of the globe and its animals and plants; or whether the phenomena of a tenth or a thousandth of these species strike the senses. What constitutes life? How are inferior animals endowed with a capacity for sensation, memory, the passions, &c. ?

There is, as we have intimated, no necessity for resorting to any positive or negative theory as to the composition of the intellectual part of man, to establish the doctrine of a future existence. The existence of an intelligent First Cause, and the attributes of justice and benevolence, being proved, but a single fact more is necessary, and that a very obvious and an indisputable one, to force upon a fair and reasonable mind the belief in a future state of being, in which the moral inequalities of the present shall be compensated and its imperfections remedied. This fact is the moral constitution of man. Every man that has any understanding makes the distinction of right and wrong, and has a sense of moral obligation. Men do not always agree to what is right and what is wrong in particular cases, though they usually agree even here; but every man makes the distinction of right and wrong, and we do not know that any other animal does make this distinction in an ethical sense. It is one of the deepest and strongest innate principles in the mental constitution of man. No rational human being, whether civilized or savage, is without it. It follows from the attributes of the Creator already mentioned, and from the analogy of the whole system of the world, as far as it comes under our observation and within our knowledge, that the destiny of men is to be in accordance with this principle of their nature. In other instances among men and inferior animals, the capabilities, wants, instincts, and endowments of each race, are accommodated to its condition and destiny. If man's condition and existence are not accommodated to, and made to harmonize with, his sense of right and wrong, it is an exception to a rule which holds throughout creation in all other instances, as far as our knowledge goes. Now, if existence terminates with this life, then his condition and fortunes are not in accordance to this strong and most noble constitutional principle. A future state of compensation is absolutely requisite to make the harmony and correspondence in this respect, which are manifest in the world in other respects. Leaving, then, all speculations respecting the intellectual substance, or the com

position of the soul, we may rest on this basis, in confidence that the universal sense of right and wrong was not given to man to mock his hopes; and is not an exception to the rule of harmonies and correspondencies prevailing in the whole system of nature besides. A like argument is drawn from the capacity of man for unlimited progression and improvement.

We have thus stated concisely what appear to us to be the leading grounds of belief in the fundamental doctrines of natural religion. We do not touch upon the numerous ramifications and illustrations into which the argument has been pursued, and by which it is fortified.

It is observable that this argument does not necessarily go to the immortality of man, but only to a future state of existence. We do not see that nature merely, independently of revelation, can carry us beyond this result, by decisive reasons, though cogent arguments may be adduced from the same source in favour of our immortality. But we apprehend that it is doing an injury to the cause of Natural Theology and morality, to press the conclusions on this question, drawn from our observations of nature and the constitution of man, beyond their obvious force and application.

Even on the admission of atheists, of what no man in his senses can deny, that there is an evident adaptation, correspondence, proportion and harmony pervading nature, though they deny the evidence of design, a practical foundation of ethics may be drawn from the moral constitution of man and his capacity for unlimited improvement, since if his prospects and destiny ought, upon this theory, to correspond to his moral distinctions, and, therefore, when he is acting in conformity to these distinctions, he is acting upon a natural principle, and for his own well being; and, when he is acting in contradiction to them, he is trying in vain to stem the current of nature, and will suffer in his conflict with the order of things established by fate. This is a sufficient ground for a system of ethics upon the mere principles of prudence and selfishness.

The argument from design, supposes a knowledge of the object to be attained, and, therefore, in one respect comes under the head of reasoning from final causes, a species of philosophising which Lord Bacon considered as not belonging to inductive science. Now, if Lord Bacon had laid down any axiom of philosophising which should make it a vain, fanciful speculation, to suppose the foot intended for walking, the lungs for breathing, and the ear for hearing; for these are the sort of final causes involved in the argument for natural religion; even so weighty an authority as that of the great teacher of the principles of inductive science, would have not the least influence in supporting such a proposition, in the opinion of any man of common sense.

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ART. XI.—A Summer in Andalucia. 2 Vols. London: Bentley. 1839. THE author's tour along the shores of Portugal and Spain, and in Andalucia and Granada in 1836, cannot be expected to afford much novelty of matter. We have the towns and cities of these provinces, the usual sights and peculiarities to an Englishman's eye, tastefully set before us and ranged in due order; but nothing that is strikingly new either as regards subject or remark. Still, more agreeable and lightsome reading, it has not been our fortune for some considerable time to meet with. The description is lively and flowing, the style elegant and rather fine, the observation of characteristic points forms a particular feature of the work, while an acquaintance with the usages and history of the countries he visited, enables the author to throw in a great variety of ideas or to touch upon a multiplicity of topics as he goes along. The faults of the work are over-descriptiveness, elaboration with the view to produce point where none really exists, and a mechanical sameness in the manner of delineating scenes, though essentially different in themselves, which, while in each instance flowing and having motion enough, occasions a feeling of uniformity when the book is taken as a whole. There is a mannerism in the style of his mapping cities and rural scenes, a frequent repetition of sweet or elegant phrases, and an excessive fondness of allusion to pleasing objects of nature, as well as to his own emotions, that pall the appetite of the reader, and look like the affectations and egotisms of a fine and finical gentleman.

In regard to the author's mannerism, examples will be found in his sketches of cities and towns, as one description of such scenes comes after another, just as if he had started from England with drawing-paper, gaily mixed and glittering colours, and brush in hand, that he might fill a portfolio with a series of pictures to allure the lounger's eye and fancy. He seems to have formally planted himself upon some adjoining eminence or spot which he at once considered the most favourable point for obtaining striking and picturesque effect, and then to have passed his eye from one division, street, or section, to another gradually, the pen the while doing what the pencil would have done piecemeal. The consequence is, that we have an intelligible description, and yet it may neither be correct nor remarkably characteristic. Take his sketch of Cadiz, which though distinct, resembles closely, in its manner of detail that of several other towns.

"The streets of Cadiz are straight, and often cross each other at right angles; they are very narrow, as is general in the cities of the South, for the sake of coolness; this narrowness is increased, too, in appearance, by the loftiness of the houses and the projecting balconies. The Calle Ancha is the only Broad Street' in the city; in the rest, there is seldom room