the volition of the mind. Materialism then is altogether built on a 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. 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. I do 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 "I repeat, then, that the foundation these reasonings from experience and of this argument can never be custom, analogy, it seems much more philosoor a mere association of ideas. In- phical to rest them upon it, than to supdeed I believe every thing which bears pose different shades of instinct answerthe character of reason has its founda- ing to every variety of opinion and belief. tion in some original perception of the Now to me it appears, that the early understanding; and it is never a sa- impression of order and design in natisfactory account of any natural pro- ture, which the mind, I believe, is oricess used in the discovery of truth, to ginally prepared to receive, and which say we are carried to it by a mere ar- it cannot continue long in existence bitrary association, by the relations of without receiving, is that very princiresemblance or contiguity in place or ple of which we are in search, and time, or by the force of custom, in from which all the different reasonrivetting any particular chain of ideas ings of experience and analogy flow upon the mind. Imagination is the with the most natural precision. How field in which associations prevail, not soon do we perceive that the regular reason; and although habit may make rising of the sun is a part of the plan imaginations appear reasonable, yet I of nature? And with what firm debelieve every thing which nature gives pendence and assurance do we look for that character to, must rest upon a fir- the daily appearance of that glorious mer basis. Let us then examine facts. luminary? In like manner, whatever What we have commonly experienced we see constantly happen, and of which, to take place, we expect will take place too, we see the uses, the purposes, the again; and those events which are intention, that, we expect, will happen similar to others formerly experienced, again. It is like looking at a cloak. or bearing upon other appearances in As it has shown the hours to-day, we nature, we think much more probable reason that the artist intended it should than those which are entirely insulat- shew the hours to-morrow. When we ed and unlike any thing else. We have not an opportunity of knowing constantly expect that fire will burn, facts, we then form probable conjecand that the sun will rise every morntures. 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. 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. Can 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 revolutions of human society. It is an inquiry then of great magnitude and difficulty, fitted for the highest and strongest minds, and utterly remote from the disquisitions of mere ordinary conversation. But can we be contented merely to believe this? When the evil urges and presses us,—when our ears are shocked, and our hearts are wrung, with daily accounts of ferocious deeds and fearful domestic wickedness, when we know, that in the very streets around us, in the dwellings that are built around our own, there is contagion spreading over the lives of men,— can we be satisfied in heart or thought to say, that the understanding of the evil is too high for our knowledge, and therefore to separate ourselves from all part in resisting it? We are not to be so repelled or silenced. And yet, assuredly there seems plausible ground of doubt as to the success of remedies, which are to be attempted without intelligence of the disorder; and nothing seems plainer than that to understand a disorder must be to understand its cause; nothing clearer, than that a cause, which lies in the condition and constitution of human society, can only be understood by understanding that condition and that constitution. But what is the evil itself of which we speak, and for which we would find a remedy? The deterioration of the character of the people!-what does that mean? Who can affix a meaning to the words, that has not looked upon the people in their daily life with intimate and familiar knowledge? Yet the signs of some great deterioration are plain to all eyes. Acts of crime, startling by their atrocity, oppressive by their frequency, speak in strong language to every mind, and seem to declare some change in the spirit of the nation, as if an obduration of their natural sense were growing on men's minds; as if some dire passion, some lust of wickedness, had entered into their hearts. We see the signs; and, looking as men, upon the acts and lives of men, we cannot be deceived. Our common natural understanding and human feeling are shocked and revolted by what every day shows us; and we know that we are called upon by every claim that enforces our participation in the welfare of others, to act against the VOL. III. growing evil. Under the impulse of that powerful call, there is a sort of general motion in the mind of society towards such resistance. There is an acknowledgment of something to be done; and an uneasy zeal to begin some great work of opposition to the undefined active principle of mischief, which we witness only in its operation. But still the difficulty and the doubt recur. What is the reinedy required? What is the essential evil against which we would contend? What is the principle in nature we would seek to counteract? and the powers we can bring to that opposition? Such questions as these seem to throw us at once into the widest fields of almost indefinite speculation. Though still unconvinced, we are still unsatisfied; for we can never persuade ourselves that, in the midst of general calamity, and under the pressure of common evil, there is not something that lies at each man's hand to be done, which requires only common feeling and common prudence to know and do. We are unsatisfied when, seeking to engage in action, we are thrown back on speculation. But what does that unsatisfied feeling argue? Have we a right to expect satisfaction? May not the defect lie in ourselves? Do we know that condition of mind, which, entering upon difficult questions, engaging in new courses of action, may justly expect clearness of view and decided knowledge? and have we reason to suppose that condition ours? But is it any thing wonderful, if, in such inquiries, we find something unsatisfying and perplexing? Can we suppose that, in setting up ourselves in opposition to principles of mischief, which act under the great laws, and in the strength of the great powers of nature, we shall find at once a clear straight path before us, asking nothing but determination to go on? To legislate against nature,-to build up in the bosom of society resistance to her overpowering force,-to continue and govern the operation of principles which she has implicated with its life, -to inhibit or enact revolutions in the human mind,-to hold in our own hands the law of our own condition,purposes like these, not much less than these, do we make the subject of our endeavours, when we step out of the ordinary courses of our lives to Ꮓ combine exertion against the prevalent evils that afflict us. It might seem bold in any man to say, that such purposes are within the sphere of human power. It would also be hard to say, ambitious as such purposes must seem to the measure of our faculties, that their accomplishment is in every degree denied us. Yet surely it cannot be held unreasonable to urge, that every attempt we would make, bearing upon purposes of such great scope, and involving our own acts in such a strife of mighty operation, should be preceded at least by some deliberate and earnest inquiry, and should be undertaken with that calm and stedfast resolution which remains when time has weighed and resolved all doubts,-not in that quick fervour of desire which springs up in the mind during the moment of its first unripe conceptions. We find it difficult to bear the sus pense of thought. Our mind has scarcely begun to conceive, ere we would leap to a conclusion. We find it still more difficult to bear the suspense of action. We have no sooner conceived an end to attain, but at once we would be moving towards it. And that impatience which is the mere working of our ungoverned imaginations, that precipitancy which but indulges the restlessness of incited desire, seem to ourselves the pure ardour and prompt devotion of a lofty zeal. The truth of this observation must be felt by all calm and unimpassioned men, who observe the exclusive pertinacity and headlong energy with which, at present, persons of tolerable understanding attribute the prevalence of crime to some one great ruling cause, for example, the political or religious temper of the times, and would, in consequence, seek to cure the evil by some one great remedy. It were devoutly to be wished, that those who are strongly affected by the signs of evil which they behold in the face of the times, and who would sincerely give the strength of their own labour to contend against it, and who leap at every suggestion of the means of effecting such resistance, would stay to consider that it is not a light work in which they would guide themselves; that there is rather an improbability attaching to all hasty suggestions for the conduct of such a warfare; that the greatness of the purpose may dazzle them; that the painful pressure of the evil may unduly sway their minds and precipitate their judgment. Some method of action there must be to every man who feels himself called to act; some duty to be performed by every one who feels duty incumbent on him. But to act precipitately, no man, in the ordinary courses of life, is required; and to begin to spend the strength appointed for the performance of duty before its requisitions are distinctly ascertained, the very nature of duty itself might seem to forbid. The mind of society turns to the consideration of its disorders. Much false opinion, perhaps, may be engendered in the effort of consideration. But that impulse which directs the general minds of men against common mischief, bending their high and strong powers to purposes of common defence, cannot be ineffectual. They will multiply resources; they will war with augmenting strength against the invading evil. But it seems necessary that they should know before they can act; or, if they can only ascertain the effect of measures by putting them to proof, that at least they should hazard as little as they can, prove their measures by degrees, restrain, as much as possible, their exertions to the limits within which they can observe their success, and provide for and supply their failure. METRICAL VERSIONS OF THE PSALMS. (Continued from page 67.) ACCORDING to Strype, (in his Memorials) the singing of psalms in England was allowed so early as 1548. Though some of Sternhold's psalms were printed by Whitchurche in 1549, the entire version was not completed for several years, as was formerly noticed; this was done by the English exiles, who, during the reign of Mary, resided in Geneva. Nor was that entire version consecrated, as it were, in England for public use till 1562, when it first came forth from the editorial hands of John Hopkins. The year assigned for the reception of this version by the Scotish Church was 1564. Long before this time, however, some of the psalms in metre appear to have been very generally yr "By the los of that heavenly treasure already in yr heart they wold be forder greived and preiudged in yr spirituall estate, then they could be hurt in bodi or goods by suffering for retention of yr awin psalmes. "In Vther reformed kirkes, as ingland, france, germanie, netherlands, etc. psalmes in meeter ar not so absolutely perfite, and frie of blame that nothing can be censured in ym, and yet neyr have they nor will they reject the comlie face of yr owne psalter, for a small blott ane or mair, bot still retein what they have had in long continued and comfortable practise. "If it sould happen (as God forbid) that our psalme bookes in meeter wt the comoun order prefixed unto ym, and the catechise following ym now printit cum priveligio regiæ majestatis wer removed, it might be justlie feared as the kirke decayed in moyane and means that the confession of faith, the order of the election of ministers, of the ecclesiastical discipline, and of excommunication, publike repentance, the visitation of the seik, buriall of the dead, the comoun prayers, the formes of the Lords supper, of baptisme and meriage, the book of fasting, Calvines catechise, sould be supprest to the great hinderances of publicke and private vses. "It were a shamles ingratitude to extinguishe the memorie of so many worthie men by wos cair and paines God had vouchsafed to bestow so manie benefites vpon his kirke and ane great testimonie against the pastors and professors of this age who have ing these psalmes and vther meanes hes gained so little by ym for yr comfort and edification that they are readier to quitt them then to keip them. "In the generall assemblie holden at brunteland in maii 1601 be occasion of a certaine motion mad be som brether, concerning our vulgar translation of the bible, the comoun prayers, the Psalmes in meeter, It was ordained that Mr Rot. pont sould revise the psalmes and that his labours sould be revised at the next assemblie, bot as the motion above written proceeded from personall respecte so it is to be supposed, that if that faithfull man who was both hollie and Learned had fund anie just caus of alteration, neither he to whom the mater was recomended nor the assemblie who sould have taken compt of his diligence would have suffred that matter to be buried in oblivion. "If it had beine found expedient to alter these psalmes, Mongomerie and som vthers principalls of inglish poesie in ther tymes as they gave yr assayes of som psalmes yet extant: So they offered to translate the whole book freilie without any price for yr paines, ather frae the publicke state or privat mens purses. “As the kirk_refused the offer of these poets as neidles for the publick and private worship of God so it is statute and ordained in the generall assemblie holden at St Johnston in junii 1563 and in sundrie Vyr assemblies, that no work be set forth in print, nor published in writt till sic tyme as it sall be advised and approven be the kirk, conform to the order sett Doun be the generall assemblie. "Since it hath pleased God to raise som hoipe of Delyverence to the kirkes of vther countries so long troubled with bloodie persecution, and to stretch out the hand of his power againest supperstition and Idolatrie. Pietie and compassion would that we sould hold fast what we have and ferventlie pray to God, to vindicatt his truth from the tyrranie of Idolatrers and to Delyver his dis tressed people, fra the craft and crueltie of men, that praise may be given to his matie by all kirkes and persons, whom he hes blessed wt any measure of mercifull reformation. "In respect of the premisses and vther reasons to be eiked as occasione sall require the psalmes in meeter as they have bein and ar vsed privatlie and publicklie in Scotland aucght to be retained and no wayes suppressed for any thing seen or hard as yet." Though the date of the reception of this version is given, yet no mention to that effect is to be found in any of the existing records. We have already mentioned the time when we imagine it to have been fixed upon. Nor was it servilely adopted, in deference either to the churches of Geneva or of England: some alterations were deemed to be wanting, and these accordingly were made. We are left, however, to discover these changes, merely by a comparison of the earlier editions, printed in England and abroad, with those in our own country; a task neither pleasant nor satisfactory, considering the errors of the press, of frequent occurrence in the initials of the translators' names, as they stand at the head of the various Psalms. The Assembly seem to have adhered more to the version, as it appeared from the hands of the exiles at Geneva, than as it was received by the English church. This accounts for our version containing more of the Psalms which were translated by Kethe than theirs, when they, in common with others, were rejected by Hopkins. But indeed no two editions, before Hopkins's of 1562, wherever they may be printed, entirely correspond together. Kethe seems to have been an Englishman, although Strype, and Warton on his authority, call him a native of Scotland. Some of his translations (generally marked with the simple ini |