data. When this new life shall come, and our souls shall branch out into new faculties and perceptions, then, perhaps, a new order of facts will arise to reconcile these apparent difficulties and incongruities, by presenting us with a full display of their dependencies and relations.

Another class of cavillers have objected to this argument from analogy, that its conclusions are imperfect, and that nothing is established by it on the affirmative side. Such reasoners do not consider how much it conduces to a point, to overcome the presumptions against it: how greatly an argument is strengthened by the removal of prejudices; and how much the native force of reason can avail, when rescued from these great incumbrances. They do not consider, that to remove the presumptions against religious testimony is to place it on the same grounds with common historical testimony; and that, when this is done, no colour of consistency is left to infidels, unless they carry their incredulity to every system of facts that is grounded on the records of man; for, supposing there be nothing intrinsically incredible in what our religion, whether natural or revealed, commands us to believe, nothing is more clear, than that the external testimony on which it reposes is above any common historical evidence; is more supported by witnesses, more confirmed by documents, more strengthened by circumstantial coincidences and corresponding rel.tions.

The potent operation of this negative virtue belongs in an eminent degree to the argument from analogy, the direct tendency of which is to vindicate religion from those ordinary presumptions against it, which consist in an opinion that its doctrines are internally more incredible than the common

facts of history; and that, supposing no actual proofs to exist of the object of our daily experience, still they would have greater claims in themselves to be received, and a higher colour of probability. This opinion, founded on habit and prejudice, is clearly refuted by the reasons which analogy supplies; and the objects of our faith are placed in a light to receive the full advantage of all the proofs and authorities which belong to them. As a faithful handmaid to Religion, it attends upon it to decorate its form, and improve its comeliness; to debarrass its motions, and to display its attractions; to dispose the white robe in which Truth has arrayed it, and to remove the obstacles which error and obduracy have thrown in its path.

But though the principal strength of this reasoning from analogy consists in its negative proofs, yet it is by no means destitute of force, when viewed on the affirmative side; while it effectually removes all presumptions against religion, it supplies to the candid and reasonable a variety of positive conclusions in its favour. If a correspondence be clearly displayed between revealed religion and God's natural and moral government of the world, so strong that they appear to be evidently conducted in the same spirit, and under similar laws, it is beyond obduracy to deny the inference of a common origin. The argument then at this point leaves us to determine who was the author of both these dispensations, and to decide between chance and Providence; for in reality there is no alternative, whatever terms and denominations the wantonness of infidelity has dared to invent. To erect, therefore, this argument from analogy on its proper basis, we have only to establish as a datum, that the phænomena of nature, and the moral government of the world, are from the

hands of the Almighty. With this footing it is complete, and in a syllogistic form runs thus:

God is the author of the natural and the moral government of the world; but the natural and moral government of the world, and the system of revealed religion, are evidently derived from one and the same author. Therefore God is the author of the system of revealed religion.

I am so jealous of the honour of the subject of this paper, and at the same time so well aware how soon it fatigues the light character of the present race of readers, that I have determined not to press it too far, nor even to carry it on to the conclusion of this day's entertainment. As the next letter in Eugenio's packet is very short, I cannot do better perhaps than terminate this paper with it, especially as nothing comes from that quarter but what will harmonize with religious contemplations. The letter is from Amelia to Eugenio.

"And does the little vista in the wood begin to look delightful? Then does every place else begin to look dull to me; for no place has attractions for Amelia, but where she can imagine the presence of Eugenio. My father promises to bring me in a fortnight to see you, and in the mean time I must be satisfied with thinking of you; yet think of you I cannot, with all that perfect delight with which your image used to fill my bosom, as long as you continue to cherish this pensiveness of disposition, and to dip all your thoughts in this melancholy dye. Why travel into the land of dreams for topics of sorrow, and thence transplant into our

minds these shadowy griefs, while so many substantial joys await us, and while genial hopes and native pleasures spring up in gay luxuriance before our feet? My dear friend, your mind is too highly wrought for the relish of actual pleasure, and the objects of common life. Oh, how I wish you could a little unrefine yourself, and reduce to a lower pitch those high tones of feeling that never can harmonize with the measures of our condition, and our allotment here! As of late you have sometimes complained of debility of nerves, accept my recipe: instead of reposing on the strength of a fragile philosophy, and maintaining the struggle alone, call to your aid the practical consolations of business and amusement; build more upon the success of diversion than opposition, and study rather to make a dexterous retreat than a desperate defence. In the mean time accept of this little poem, which has been given to my father by one of his friends, and which is somewhat applicable to your particular case.

Say, HENRY, should a man of mind
Sigh o'er his brittle crust,

Or grieve because it is not join'd
To fibres more robust?

Look round with philosophic ken,
Through Nature's works below,
From very atoms up to men,
You'll find it order'd so,

That much of all we choicest hold,

Admire with one acclaim,

Is of a delicater mould,

And of a feebler frame,

Look at that bird of glossiest wings,
Yet sweeter taste than plume,

That scuds, that murmurs, sips and sings,
And feasts upon perfume.

Look at the rose his bill invades
With eager wanton strife;
On what a slender stem it fades,
And blushes out its life!

Look at bent lilies as you walk,
How elegantly thin!

Yet well that fragrance from their stalk
Proclaims the power within.

Look at that sex whose form may vaunt
More grace than bird or rose;
What fine infirmities enchant,

What frailties charm in those!

Examine men, the world around,
That soar with gen'rous aim;
How few with rugged strength abound
In fibre, or in frame!

Great souls, with energetic thought,
Wear out their shell of clay;
Yet at each crevice light is caught,
Till all is mental day.

Then, HENRY, let no man of mind
Sigh o'er his brittle crust,

Or grieve because it is not join'd
To fibres more robust.

No. 28. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 17.

Μηδ ̓ ἀγαπᾷν λίαν τὰς τοιαύτας ἀρετὰς, ὧν καὶ τοῖς φαύλοις μέτεστιν, ἀλλ ̓ ἐκείνας ὧν οὐδεὶς ἂν πονηρὸς κοινωνήσεις.

ISOCRATES, EPIST. II.

We should only value ourselves upon those attainments which are out of the reach of pitiful minds.

I KNOW of nothing which creates in the mind a more tormenting jealousy of other men's success and celebrity, and contributes more to make our old-age