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and avenues for receiving speedy intelligence, on all needful occasions. It has lodgements wherein to post centinels, for various offices to expedite whose operations the whole turns on a curious pivot, nicely contrived to afford the largest and freest circumvolutions.

This is skreened from heat, defended from cold, and at the same time beautified by the hair a decoration so delicate, as no art can supply, so perfectly light, as no way to encumber the wearer.

While other animals are prone in their aspect, the attitude of man is erect, which is by far the most graceful, and bespeaks superiority. It is by far the most commodious, for prosecution of all our extensive designs. It is likewise safest, less exposed to dangers, and better contrived to repel or avoid them. Does it not also remind us of our noble original, and our sublime end? Our original, which was the breath of the Almighty: our end, which was the enjoyment of him in glory?

Thus much for the rafters and beams of the house. Let us now survey the lodg ings within. Here are ligaments, a tough and strong arrangement of fibres, to unite the several parts, and render what would otherwise be an unwieldy jumble, a wellcompacted and self-manageable system: membranes, thin and flexile tunicles, to inwrap the fleshy parts, to connect some and form a separation between others: arteries, the rivers of our little world, that striking out as they go, into numberless small canals, visit every street, yea, every apartment in the vital city. These being wide at first, and growing narrower and narrower, check the rapidity of the blood. This thrown from the heart, dilates the arteries, and their own elastic force contracts them by which means they vibrate against the finger, and much assist both in the discovery and cure of diseases. The larger arteries, wherever the blood is forced to bend, are situate on the bending side; lest being stretched to an improper length, the circulation should be retarded. They are not, like several of the veins, near the surface, but placed at a proper depth. And hereby they are more secure from external injuries. In those parts which are most Ible to pressure, an admirable expedient takes place. The arteries inosculate with each other: breaking into a new track, they fetch a little circuit, and afterwards return into the main road. So that if any

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thing block up or straiten the direct pas sage, the current by diverting to this new channel, eludes the impediment, flows on, and soon regains its wonted course.

The veins receive the blood from the ar teries, and re-convey it to the heart. The pressure of the blood is not near so forcible in these as in the arteries. Therefore their texture is considerably lighter. Such an exact œconomist is nature, amidst all her liberality! In many of these canals, the current, though widening continually, is obliged to push its way against the perpendicular: hereby it is exposed to the danger of falling back and overloading the vessels. To prevent this, valves are interposed at proper distances, which are no hindrance to the regular passage, but prevent the reflux, and facilitate the passage of the blood to the grand receptacle. But these valves are only where the blood is constrained to climb: where the ascent ceases, they cease also.

Here are glands to filtrate the passing fluids, each of which is an assemblage of vessels, complicated with seeming confusion, but with perfect regularity. Each forms a secretion far more curious than the most admired operations of chemistry. Muscles, composed of the finest fibres, yet endued with incredible strength, fashioned after a variety of patterns, but all in the highest taste for elegance and conveniency, There are the instruments of motion, and at the command of the will, execute their functions quick as lightning: nerves, sur prisingly minute, which set the muscles at work, diffuse the power of sensation through the body, and upon any impression from without, give all needful intelligence to the soul: Vesicles, distended with an unctuous matter, in some places compose a soft cushion: as in the calf of the leg, whose large muscles, mixt with fat, are of singular service to those important bones, This flanks and fortifies them like a strong bastion, supports and cherishes them like a soft pillow. In other places they fill up the vacuities, and smooth the inequalities of the flesh. Inwardly they supply the machine for motion: outwardly, they render it smooth and graceful.

The skin, like a curious surtout, covers the whole, formed of the most delicate net-work, whose meshes are minute, and whose threads are multiplied, even to a prodigy: the meshes are so minute, that nothing passes them, which is discernible

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by the eye though they discharge every moment myriads and myriads of superAuous incumbrances. The threads are so multiplied, that neither the point of the smallest needle, nor the infinitely finer lance of a gnat, can pierce any part without drawing blood, and causing an uneasy sensation. Consequently, without wounding by so small a puncture, both a nerve and a vein !

But a course of incessant action must exhaust the solids and waste the fluids, and unless both are properly recruited, in a short time destroy the machine. For this reason it is furnished with the organs, and endued with the powers of nutrition: teeth, the foremost, thin and sharp, to bite asunder the food: the hindermost, broad and strong, indented with small cavities, the better to grind in pieces what is transmitted to them. But in children the formation of teeth is postponed till they have occasion for them.

Were the teeth, like other bones, covered with the periosteum, chewing would give much pain. Were they quite naked, they would soon decay and perish. To guard against them both, they are overlaid with a neat enamel, harder than the bone itself, which gives no pain in chewing, and yet secures them from various injuries. The lips prevent the food from slipping out of the mouth, and assisted by the tongue, return it to the grinders. While they do this in concert with the cheeks, they squeeze a thin liquor from the adjacent glands. This moistens the food and prepares it for digestion. When the mouth is inactive these are nearly closed: but when we speak or eat, their moisture being then necessary, is expressed as need requires.

But the food could not descend merely by its own weight, through a narrow and clammy passage into the stomach. Therefore to effect this, muscles both strait and circular are provided. The former enlarge the cavity, and give an easy admittance. The latter, closing behind the descending aliment, press it downward. But before the food enters the gullet, it must of necessity pass over the orifice of the windpipe: whence it is in danger of falling upon the lungs, which might occasion in stant death. To obviate this, a moveable lid is placed, which when the smallest particle advances, is pulled down and shut close, but as soon as it is swallowed, is let

loose and stands open. Thus the important pass is always made sure against any nox ious approaches: yet always left free for the air, and open for respiration.

The food descending into the stomach, is not yet ready for the bowels. Therefore that great receiver is strong to bear, and proper to detain it, till it is wrought into the smoothest pulp imaginable. From hence it is discharged by a gentle force, and passes gradually into the intestines.

Near the entrance waits the gall-blad. der, ready to pour its salutary juice upon the aliment, which dissolves any thing viscid, scours the intestines, and keeps all the fine apertures clear. This bag, as the stomach fills, is pressed thereby, and then only discharges its contents. It is also furnished with a valve of a very peculiar, namely, of a spiral form: through which the detersive liquid cannot hastily pour, but must gently ooze. Admirable construction! which, without any care of ours, gives the needful supply, and no more.

The nutriment then pursues its way through the mazes of the intestines: which by a wormlike motion protrude it and force its small particles into the lacteal ves'sels. These are a series of the finest strain, ers, ranged in countless multitudes all along the sides of the winding passage. Had this been strait or short, the food could not have resigned a sufficient quan. tity of its nourishing particles. Therefore it is artfully convolved and greatly extended, that whatever passes may be sifted thoroughly. As the aliment proceeds, it is more and more drained of its nutritious juices. In consequence of this, it would become hard, and pain the tender parts, but that glands are posted in proper places to discharge a lubricated fluid. These are smaller or fewer near the stomach, because there the aliment is moist enough: where, as in the bowels remote from the stomach, they are either multiplied or enlarged.

The chyle drawn off by the lacteals is carried through millions of ducts, too fine even for the microscope to discover. To this it is owing that nothing enters the blood, but what is capable of passing through the finest vessels. It is then lodged in several commodious cells (the glands of the mesentery) and there mixt with a thin diluting lymph, which makes it more apt to flow. Hence it is conveyed to the com. mon receptacle, and mounts through a perpendicular tube into the last subclavian vein.

This tube lies contiguous to the great artery, whose strong pulsation drives on the fluid, and enables it to ascend and unload its treasure, at the very door of the heart. But the chyle is as yet in too crude a state to be fit for the animal functions. Therefore it is thrown into the lungs. In the spongy cells of this amazing laboratory, it mixes with the external air, and its whole substance is made more smooth and uniform. Thus improved it enters the left ventricle of the heart, a strong, active, indefatigable muscle. The large muscles of the arm or of the thigh are soon wearied: a day's labour, or a day's journey, exhausts their strength. But the heart toils whole weeks, whole months, nay years unwearied is equally a stranger to intermission and fatigue. Impelled by this, part of the blood shoots upward to the head; part rolls through the whole body.

But how shall a stream divided into myriads of channels, be brought back to its source? Should any portion of it be unable to return, putrefaction, if not death, must ensue. Therefore the all-wise Creator has connected the extremities of the arteries with the beginning of the veins : so that the same force which darts the blood through the former, helps to drive it through the latter. Thus it is re-conducted to the great cistern, and there played off afresh.

Where two opposite currents would be in danger of clashing, where the streams from the vena cava and vena ascendens coincide, a fibrous excrescence interposes, which like a projecting pier, breaks the stroke of each, and throws both into their proper receptacle. Where the motion is to be speedy, the channels either forbear to wind (as in the great artery, which descends to the feet) or lessen in their dimensions as in every interval between all the ramifications. When the progress is to be retarded, the tubes are variously convolved, or their diameter contracted. Thus guarded, the living flood never discontinues its course, but night and day, whether we sleep or wake, still perseveres to run briskly through the arteries, and return softly through the

veins.

But farther. The great Creator has made us an invaluable present of the senses, to be the inlets of innumerable pleasures, and the means of the most valuable advantages.

The eye, in its elevated station, com mands the most enlarged prospects. Consisting only of fluids inclosed within coats, it shews us all the graces and glories of nature. How wonderful, that an image of the hugest mountains, and the widest landscapes should enter the small pupil! that the rays of light should paint on the optic nerve, paint in an instant of time, paint in their truest colours and exactest lineaments, every species of external objects!

The eye is so tender, that the slightest touch might injure its delicate frame. It is guarded therefore with a peculiar care, intrenched deep and barricadoed round with bones. As the smallest fly might incommode its polished surface, it is farther protected by two substantial curtains. In sleep, when there is no occasion for the sense, but a necessity to guard the organ, these curtains close of their own accord. At any time they fly together as quick as thought. They are lined with an extremely fine sponge, moist with its own dew. Its bristly pallisades keep out the least mote, and moderate the too strong impressions of the light.

As in our waking hours we have al most incessant need for these little orbs, they run upon the finest castors, rolling every way with the utmost ease: which circumstance, added to the flexibility of the neck, renders our two eyes as useful as a thousand,

The ear consists of an outward porch and inner rooms. The porch, somewhat prominent from the head, is of a cartilaginous substance, covered with tight membranès, and wrought into sinuous cavities. These, like circling hills, collect the wandering undulations of the air, and transmit them with a vigorous impulse, to the finely stretched membrane of the drum. This is expanded upon a circle of bones, over a polished reverberating cavity. It is furnished with braces that strain or relax, as the sound is faint or strong. The hammer and the anvil, the winding labyrinth, and the sounding galleries, these and other pieces of mechanism, all instrumental to hearing, are inexpressibly cu rious.

Amazingly exact must be the tension of the auditory nerves, since they answer the smallest tremors of the atmosphere, and distinguish their most subtle vari

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ations. These living chords, tuned by an Almighty hand, and spread through the echoing isles, receive all the impressions of sound, and propagate them to the brain. These give existence to the charms of music, and the still nobler charms of discourse.

The eye is useless amidst the gloom of night. But the ear hears through the darkest medium. The eye is on duty only in our waking hours: but the ear is always accessible.

As there are concussions of the air, which are discernible only by the instrurents of hearing, so there are odoriferous particles wafted in the air, which are perceivable only by the smell. The nostrils are wide at the bottom, that more effluvia may enter, narrow at the top, that, when entered, they may act more strongly. The streams that exhale from fragrant bodies, are fine beyond imagination. Microscopes that shew thousands of animals in a drop of water, cannot bring one of these to our sight. Yet so judiciously are the olfactory nets set, that they catch the vanishing fugitives. They imbibe all the roaming perfumes of spring, and make us banquet even on the invisible dainties of na

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benefits accruing from all the senses, is speech. Speech makes me a gainer by the eyes and ears of others; by their ideas and observations. And what an admirable instrument for articulating the voice, and modifying it into speech, is the tongue? This little collection of muscular fibres, under the direction of the Creator, is the artificer of our words. By this we communicate the secrets of our breasts, and make our very thoughts audible. This likewise is the efficient cause of music; it is soft as the lute, or shrill as the trumpet. As the tongue requires an easy play, it is lodged in an ample cavity. It moves under a concave roof, which gives additional vigour to the voice, as the shell of a violin to the sound of the strings.

Wonderfully wise is the regulation of voluntary and involuntary motions. The will in some cases has no power; in others she is an absolute sovereign. If she command, the arm is stretched, the hand closed. How easily, how punctually are her orders obeyed! To turn the screw, or work the lever, is laborious and wea risome. But we work the vertebræ of the neck, with all their appendant chambers: we advance the leg with the whole incumbent body; we rise, we spring from the ground, and though so great a weight is raised, we meet with no difficulty or fatigue.

That all this should be effected without any toil, by a bare act of the will is very surprising. But that it should be done, even while we are entirely ignorant of the manner in which it is performed, is most astonishing! Who can play a single tune upon the spinnet, without learning the differences of the keys? Yet the mind touches every spring of the human machine, with the most masterly skill, though she knows nothing at all of the nature of her instrument, or the process of her operations.

The eye of a rustic, who has no notion of optics, or any of its laws, shall lengthen and shorten its axis, dilate and contract its pupil, without the least hesitation, and with the utmost propriety: exactly adapting itself to the particular distance of objects, and the different degrees of light. By this means it performs some of the most curious experiments in the Newtonian philosophy, without the least knowledge of the science, or consciousness of its own dexterity!

Which shall we admire most, the multitude of organs; their finished form and faultless order; or the power which the soul exercises over them? Ten thousand reins are put into her hands and she manages all, conducts all, without the least perplexity or irregularity. Rather with a promptitude, a consistency, and speed that nothing can equal!

So fearfully and wonderfully are we made! Made of such complicated parts, each so nicely fashioned, and all so exactly arranged; every one executing such curious functions, and many of them operating in so mysterious a manner! And since health depends on such a numerous assemblage of moving organs; since a single secretion stopped may spoil the temperature of the fluid, a single wheel clogged may put an end to the solids: with what holy fear should we pass the time of our sojourning here below! Trusting for continual preservation not merely to our own care, but to the Almighty Hand which formed the admirable machine, directs its agency, and supports its being!

This is an ingenious description of the casket, it is fit we should attend to the jewel it contains. If the House is so curiously and wonderfully made by the allwise Architect, what may we not expect the Inhabitants to be!

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The reasoning of Mr. Addison on this subject is very flattering to human nature, and deserves the serious consideration of every intelligent Being. The perpetual progress of the soul, says that elegant writer, to its perfection without a possibility of ever arriving at it, seems to me to carry a great weight with it, for the immortality thereof. How can it enter into the thoughts of man, that the soul, which is capable of such immense perfections, and of receiving new improvements to all eternity shall fall away into nothing almost as soon as it is created? Are such abilities made for no purpose? A brute arrives at a point of perfection that he can never pass in a few years he has all the

endowments he is capable of; and were he to live ten thousand more, would be the same thing he is at present. Were a human soul thus at a stand in her accomplishments, were her faculties to be full blown, and incapable of farther enlarge ments, I could imagine it might fall away insensibly, and drop at once into a state of annihilation. But can we believe a

thinking being, that is in a perpetual progress of improvement, and travelling on from perfection to perfection, after having just looked abroad into the works of its Creator, and made a few discoveries of his infinite goodness, wisdom, and power, must perish at her first setting out, and in the very beginning of her inquiries?

A man, considered in his present state, seems only sent into the world to propagate his kind. He provides himself with a successor, and immediately quits his post to make room for him.

Hæres
Hæredem alterius, velut unda supervenit undam.
HORACE. EP. 2.
-Heir crowds heir, as in a rolling flood
Wave urges wave.
CREECH.

He does not seem born to enjoy life, but
to deliver it down to others. This is not
surprising to consider in animals, which are
formed for our use, and can finish their
business in a short life. The silk-worm,
after having spun her task, lays her eggs
and dies. But a man can never have ta
ken in his full measure of knowledge, has
not time to subdue his passions, establish
his soul in virtue, and come up to the
perfection of his nature, before he is hur
ried off the stage. Would an infinitely
wise Being make such glorious creatures
for so mean a purpose? Can he delight in
the production of such abortive intelligen
ces, such short-lived reasonable beings?
Would he give us talents that are not
to be exerted? Capacities that are never
to be gratified? How can we find that
wisdom, which shines through all his
works, in the formation of man, without
looking on this world as only a nursery
for the next, and believing that the several
generations of rational creatures, which
rise up and disappear in such quick suc-
cessions, are only to receive their first ru
diments of existence here, and afterwards
to be transplanted into a more friendly
climate, where they may spread and flou
rish to all eternity?

There

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