belief of the existence of matter; and our belief of the existence of matter is little else but a sentiment of trust in that mind by which it is ordered and arranged."

"I do not mean to say, Philo," said Cleanthes, "that in these opinions there is no truth; but you do not seem to have made them out quite to your own satisfaction, and therefore I think you may as well come down to more level ground."

My wish was to shew, with Berkeley," replied Philo," that, properly speaking, there is no system of nature which can afford the slightest pretext for materialism. If he goes too far, in saying mind is the whole, I think I am justified in saying, that it is owing only to the order produced by mind that we have any steady belief of the existence of such a thing as matter. I willingly, however, leave this speculation, as I am ready to acknowledge to you that I have not quite satisfied myself respecting its solidity.

"There is another speculation, however, which amounts pretty nearly to the same thing, and which, I believe, may be made more level to our apprehension. Let our belief of the existence of matter come as it may; and if you will let it rest upon its own foundation, and not upon any adventi tious support from the concomitant perception of mind; still I say, that matter cannot be presented to us, without bringing along with it the traces of design and intelligence."

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"Do I rightly understand you?" said Cleanthes. I admit that an orderly world, such as we inhabit, bears the constant indications of design upon its countenance; but you surely do not mean to say that this is the case with matter, considered abstractedly from the system into which we see it thrown."

"An orderly world," said Philo, "is an evidence not merely of design, but of exquisite wisdom; but I wish to pursue materialism to the fountain head, and to shew that matter cannot exist in any form without bearing some indications of intelligence. Can matter exist without form? What is form but an order of existence, a mode of being suited to something, to the faculties, for instance, of a percipient being? Matter imperceptible to every being can scarcely be said to exist.

You cannot suppose an atom so fine but you may conceive an eye capable of taking it in. Now there must be a relation between the eye and the atom. This relation is something adapted, sorted, regulated, designed. Take the system of Epicurus: conceive innumerable atoms rushing through infinite space. No single atom can exist without some adaptation of parts (if an atom has parts, if it has none it is nothing), an adaptation which suits it better than any other. Whence did it get these? Is not intelligence apparent in the formation of an atom as well as of a system? Then take different atoms in their corporate form uniting together, and making something, no matter what, something as rude as you will: whatever it is, there must be a principle of order in it, a coherency of parts, harmony of some kind or other; and you will find, if you examine these ideas, design and intelligence lurking at the bottom of them. Poets speak of a chaos, but it is evident that is a supposition merely poetical, or rather it is one which the human mind cannot make. It is a supposition of contradictions. Whereever there is matter at all, there must be order of some kind or other. It may seem to be order without any purpose, and so can scarcely be called design. Yet order implies the operation of mind. Thus you see, Pamphilus, that I find traces of intelligence not merely in the regular forms of crystallization, but in the most rude and inartificial of material bodies."

"I have been so often disgusted,” said I, "with materialism, and have seen so much of it among the Continental philosophers, that I am really not at all disposed to engage in its defence. Your former scepticism on the subject of religion I could endure: there was modesty and hesitation in it; but the abominable self-sufficiency with which these people vent abroad their cold-blooded systems of atheism, is so hateful to any man who ever heard any thing better, that I always looked upon it with the most perfect antipathy, and shall be very happy to see you tear up materialism by the roots."

it does not possess. They all rise from want of attention to that early and constant impression of the existence of order and design in nature, which the mind of man receives in its first opening, and from applying to matter itself those conceptions which it is merely the means of conveying to the mind. Every thing in nature proceeds on a plan, and there is not a human being in existence to whom the great outlines of the plan are not apparent; but if we forget that the idea of a plan necessarily implies mind or intelligence, we must look in the plan itself for some unintelligent principle by which it is carried on. It is then we begin to talk of the powers of nature, and the necessary concatenation of causes and effects, and similar expressions of that kind, which, when applied to the material system, are, in reality, words without meaning."

"This whole subject," said Cleanthes, "lies under a very considerable degree of embarrassment, and it would be of much consequence for the elucidation of our present inquiry, if the relation of cause and effect were placed upon a right footing."-" I will let you know," said Philo, "what are my views on the subject; but I must first premise, that the proofs for the existence of God, which I have already stated, are independent of all speculations on the nature of that relation. We read design upon the face of the universe previously to all contemplation of design as a cause, and the universe as an effect. The universe is rather, as it were, a mirror which reflects the face of divine intelligence; and our belief that it is caused or produced by the divine mind seems to be an after-consideration. The plan of things exhibits the existence of mind before we reflect that mind was the principle which gave a real being to the things planned. Suppose, then, the relation of cause and effect were found to be imaginary, or to be no tie among events themselves, but merely a feeling produced by custom in the mind, in consequence of its constantly perceiving the same events in the same succession: suppose, I say, the notion of causation in the Deity were removed by such a speculation, still the universe would prove his existence in like manner as a mirror proves the existence of the object which it reflects.

The kind of sceptical attempt, there

fore, which was made in this country, to throw doubts upon the existence of God, by shewing that it is merely custom or experience which establishes the relation of cause and effect, and nothing, in the reason of things, must fall to the ground; because, whether God is the cause of the universe or not, or whether or no the universe has a cause, we still read his existence from the universe, in the same way as a book proves the existence of the mind of the author, even although you could possibly separate the notion of his be ing the author from that of the intelligence which the book exhibits.

The error prevalent in systems of materialism, again, is the reverse of this sceptical notion. The materialist proceeds on the maxim that every ef fect must have a cause: he thinks he finds the cause of every effect in nature; and having found the cause, he finds all that is necessary, all that must be had, and accordingly he is satisfied without having recourse to the existence of mind as the supreme cause of all. I might in like manner say to the materialist, prove as you will, that mind need not be resorted to as the cause of natural appearances; still these appearances prove to me the existence of mind as infallibly as your words and actions prove you to be an intelligent being. When I believe you to be an intelligent being, I do not speculate upon the principle of intelligence being the cause of your actions; but I read in them, as in a book, the fact that there is intelligence involved in them, it may be, more properly than causing them. Make what you please of the universe then, make its cause what you will, still I read intelligence in it, and this is sufficient to prove the existence of the Deity.

"The system of materialism, however, it is evident, is a very low and earthly system, and argues a great want of philosophical penetration. The slightest attention to natural successions of events, must convince us, that although they are regular and constant, they are still quite arbitrary, and might be conceived to be in every respect the reverse of what they are. We can discover no necessity whatever, that heat should be the consequence of fire, or cold of ice. Why should a round body in the heavens, called the sun, necessarily emit light

and heat? No investigation of philosophy, however profound, can possibly discover any necessary connexion between any two events in nature. Philosophy, in the investigation of causes, does nothing more than trace out those circumstances in nature which invariably precede others, and exhibits them, divested of accidental circumstances which may occur in particular instances. When it has found out a leading general fact, it then farther examines whether this fact, if supposed to precede other facts, will account for them by which is meant,-will be the rule or measure of their appearances. Thus it is discovered, that a body falling to the ground increases its velocity, according to a determinate proportion, as it approaches the ground. This is a fact; but we can discover no sort of necessary connexion between the body called a stone and this principle of gravity which regulates its descent. For any thing we know to the contrary, the stone might exist without the gravity. If thrown into the air, it might proceed for ever upwards, or it might vanish into smoke, or any thing might happen to it as well as what does happen. There may be some more general fact which may account for this principle, something the previous supposition of which will explain all the operation of gravity; but, in the mean time, the discovery of this principle is a very important one, since the motions of the heavenly bodies agree exactly with the supposition of this being the law which regulates them. But is it not clear, that this discovery is the discovery of nothing else but a manner of operation in nature? of an order of things which seems quite arbitrary, and might be the reverse of what it is, without any absurdity in the supposition? In inquiries into natural phenomena, therefore, we never discover why they must exhibit such or such appearances. At least we never make an ultimate discovery of that kind. We may discover, that admitting such and such previous appearances, others will follow of course, but the first admissions are entirely gratuitous, and have no necessity in the nature of things. Philosophy is nothing more than the science of the order of nature, and of the methods observed in its operations. There is no more necessity in any thing which it discovers, than there is

that the sentence which I am now speaking should have followed that which went before it."

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"So far then," said Cleanthes,

you agree with the sceptical opinion about cause and effect, that there is no necessary connexion between them." "None," replied Philo, "between those things which are called causes and effects in the system of nature." "Where then do you find this relation?" said Cleanthes.—“ I cannot well tell you," said he, "where I find necessary connexion, but I think I can easily point out to you a connexion sufficiently strong to build this relation upon. What say you to the connexion between volition and its consequences? I know the effects of will are said to be arbitrary as well as any thing else. I may will a thing this moment which may not take place, although perhaps it would have taken place the moment before. My hand may be suddenly palsied, and may not follow my volition when I determine to move it. Yet whenever I do move my hand in consequence of volition, I am conscious that the motion proceeded from the will, and would not have been without the will. The volition here was more than a precedent event,-was an event without which the other would not have been, and out of which, if I may so speak, it was. And this is all that is meant by the word cause.

"I cannot think," said Cleanthes, "that by this explanation you account sufficiently for the impression on our minds, that every event must have a cause. You leave the connexion too loose." "You will observe," said Philo," that you cannot shew me any event which does not occur in nature; but there is a constant impression on the mind of man that nature is a scheme, therefore every event is part of the scheme; a scheme or plan supposes a mind; we cannot conceive a mind devoid of volition : every event then in nature is an effect of the volition of mind. If you could imagine a chaos, which I believe to be an impossible supposition, then you might also imagine events, changes to take place without causes.

"It is the circumstance of design in nature which proves that there is a real bond of connexion between cause and effect; that every change must have a cause, that is, must proceed from

the volition of the mind, Materialism then is altogether built on wrong application of words. Power means nothing else but will accomplishing its end, and we cannot conceive causation independently of volition. The powers of nature, and the necessary concatenation of causes and effects, are mere words without meaning."

"I hope, Philo," said Cleanthes, "that you have now done with your metaphysical niceties, as you called them, for, to tell you the truth, I am getting a little wearied of them."

Nay, Cleanthes," said Philo," this is scarcely fair; you led me into the last speculation on cause and effect yourself, and in pity to my audience, I have been rather more hasty upon it, and have left more to be supplied by their own reflections than was quite doing justice to my cause, and yet you are the first to complain of the effect. I will, however, put an end to these discussions, if you will permit me to say a few words on another point which seemed to confuse our ideas a little on the outset of our inquiry. I mean on the ground of all argument from experience and analogy.

I repeat, then, that the foundation of this argument can never be custom, or a mere association of ideas. In deed I believe every thing which bears the character of reason has its foundation in some original perception of the understanding; and it is never a satisfactory account of any natural process used in the discovery of truth, to say we are carried to it by a mere arbitrary association, by the relations of resemblance or contiguity in place or time, or by the force of custom, in rivetting any particular chain of ideas upon the mind. Imagination is the field in which associations prevail, not reason; and although habit may make imaginations appear reasonable, yet I believe every thing which nature gives that character to, must rest upon a firmer basis. Let us then examine facts. What we have commonly experienced to take place, we expect will take place again; and those events which are similar to others formerly experienced, or bearing upon other appearances in nature, we think much more probable than those which are entirely insulated and unlike any thing else. constantly expect that fire will burn, and that the sun will rise every morn

We

I do

ing; and we think it more probable that the planets, like this earth, have inhabitants, than that they are vast bodies totally useless in creation. To resolve these views of the mind into mechanical influence of custom, seem, as I say, very unsatisfactory. not see how custom should be the ground of any opinion. From the custom of seeing fire at all times burn, and the sun rising every day, I can conceive that the idea of the fire should never occur to me without the idea of the burning, or of the sun without the idea of its rising. But I do not see how the opinion should hence be generated, that, as a fact, fire will always burn, and that the sun will continue to rise.

If such an account of this process of mind be unsatisfactory, it seems to me an unphilosophical one to ascribe all these convictions of the understanding to particular instincts. There seems a kind of reasoning in the opinions, that the sun will rise to-morrow, and that the planets are inhabited, a sort of reasoning which is stronger in the one case than in the other; and if any principle can be found which will form a basis for all these reasonings from experience and analogy, it seems much more philosophical to rest them upon it, than to suppose different shades of instinct answering to every variety of opinion and belief. Now to me it appears, that the early impression of order and design in nature, which the mind, I believe, is originally prepared to receive, and which it cannot continue long in existence without receiving, is that very principle of which we are in search, and from which all the different reasonings of experience and analogy flow with the most natural precision. How soon do we perceive that the regular rising of the sun is a part of the plan of nature? And with what firm dependence and assurance do we look for the daily appearance of that glorious luminary? In like manner, whatever we see constantly happen, and of which, too, we see the uses, the purposes, the intention, that, we expect, will happen again. It is like looking at a cloak. As it has shown the hours to-day, we reason that the artist intended it should shew the hours to-morrow. When we have not an opportunity of knowing facts, we then form probable conjectures. In different parts of the same

plan, probably, the designer carries through something of the same mind. This is reasoning from analogy, which may be more or less strong, according to circumstances. Reasoning from known facts, again, we call reasoning from experience.

"But as I have tired you, Cleanthes, with these speculations, I will only remark farther, that the proof of the existence of God must rest on a much firmer basis than on any analogical argument from a similarity in the works of nature to the works of man, if all arguments from analogy rest on the previous supposition of a plan or design in nature, which is in fact presupposing the existence of God. It would be more philosophical to suppose, that our belief of the existence of reason and intelligence in other men is derived from an analogical argument, because ourselves and others are parts and similar parts of one plan of nature, and therefore there in fact does lie an analogy here-although, I doubt not, our perception or knowledge of the existence of intelligence in each other is an original perception of the human understanding.'

"I am much gratified, Philo," said I," with the lights which you have thrown upon this argument, yet I think there is some degree of certainty still wanting, and your manner of reading design, as you call it, does not seem quite infallible. I wish

there were some force in the argument a priori, or that it were more level to my understanding." "There is in fact no great need for it," replied Philo, " slight indications of design may not produce perfect assurance; but where they are accumulated without all bounds or measure, I see not that there can be room for a doubt. I have said that even the atoms of Epicurus would suggest to the mind some notion of intention; how then can we hesitate in the conclusion, where the object of our contemplation is a world?"

"The fact is, Pamphilus, that the immensity of the object somewhat embarrasses us. I cannot hesitate a moment in the belief that you are possessed of intelligence, because there is here a rapid sympathy between our minds, and I form a quick conception of the similarity between you and myself. But the mind which I read in nature surpasses all my thoughts

and apprehensions; and while I can have no doubt of its existence, I am lost in admiration and astonishment when I contemplate it. This kind of feeling perhaps sometimes re-acts upon our perception of the evidence, and produces a species of confusion and uncertainty. Let us then, Pamphilus, contract the dimensions of this prodigious object. Let us suppose the world to be a magnificent house, and that we have from the first moments of our recollection been the inmates of a splendid palace. Let us suppose that we have found the rooms sumptuously adorned, clothes provided for us, beds in our apartments, and every useful and elegant article of furniture. At a certain hour of the day a table is introduced by invisible hands, supplied with every costly kind of food. Lamps suspended from the ceilings burn with perpetual fire. Every thing is conducted with the same order as if the master of the house were to appear, and the servants were visibly employed. Is it possible, on this supposition, that we should doubt there was a master of the house, some one who had prepared it for us, and who, unknown to us, superintended it? O, Pamphilus, is not the world such a house, and can it be without a master?

CAUTIONARY HINTS TO SPECULATORS ON THE INCREASE OF CRIMES.

Can

ONE strong feature of the times is the prevalence of atrocious crime. This is the common remark of every day. And every one asks, what is the cause? what is the remedy? We can scarce reasonably doubt the fact of a depravity universally allowed. But to explain its cause may not be easy. we expect it should be so? That depravity, whatever it may be, is part of the general temper and condition of a large portion of our society. That present temper and condition is not the result of present causes merely, simple and prominent; it is the complex result of a multitude of causes acting often with very obscure operation, and through long successive periods of time. It is a question then, not of direct practical inquiry, but of that general philosophy which investigates the laws, the powers, and the