most remote, are accurately and attentively scrutinized. But, though these researches are laudable, and are suited to the dignity of the human mind, we ought to remember, that Mind itself deserves our attention. Endowed with the superior powers of feeling and understanding, capable of thought and reflection, active, conscious, susceptible of delight, and provident of futurity, it claims to itself a duration, when the most splendid objects around us shall be destroyed. Observe the vigilance of the senses in collecting images from every part of the creation: memory preserves them as the materials of thought, and the principles of knowledge: our reasoning faculty separates, combines, or compares them, in order to discover their relations and consequences: and imagination, sedulous to amuse, arranges them into various groups and assemblages. If we consider the passions and feelings of the heart; if we reflect on their diversity, and contemplate the various aspects they assume, the violence of some will terrify and astonish, the fantastic extravagance of many will excite amazement; and others, soft and com

placent, will sooth us, and yield delight. Shall we assert, therefore, that the study of human nature is barren and unpleasant? Or that Mind, thus actuated and informed, is less worthy of our notice than the insect produced at noon-tide, to finish its existence with the setting-sun? "Shall a man," says Socrates, "be skilled in the geography of foreign countries, and continue ignorant of the soil and limits of his own? Shall he inquire into the qualities of external objects, and pay no attention to the mind?"

But, though the utility or pleasure resulting from the study of human nature is manifest, the progress men have hitherto made in it, neither corresponds with the dignity of the subject, nor with our advances in other regions of science. Neither is our knowledge of the passions and faculties of the mind proportioned to the numerous theories men have fabricated concerning them. On the contrary, the numerous theories of human nature that have appeared in various ages and languages, have been so different from one another, and withal so plausible and imposing, that, instead of in

forming, they perplex. From the uncertainty and diversity of opinion, some have asserted that the mind of man, on account of its transcendent excellence, and the inconceivable delicacy of its structure, can never be the object of precise inquiry. Others, again, from very different premises, deduce the same conclusion, forming their opinions on the numerous, and apparently discordant, powers and affections of the mind, and affirming, that its operations are governed by no regular principles.

That a perfect knowledge of the nature and faculties of the mind is not to be acquired in our present condition, cannot possibly be denied. Neither can the contrary be affirmed of any subject of philosophical inquiry. Yet our internal feelings, our observation and experience, supply us with rich materials, sufficient to animate our love of knowledge; and, by enabling us to prosecute our researches, to extend the limits of human understanding. Neither can we affirm, that our thoughts, feelings, and affections, are in a state of anarchy and confusion. Nothing, you say, seems wilder and more

incoherent, than the thoughts and images continually fluctuating in the mind: like the "gay motes that people the sun-beams," they know no order, and are guided by no connection. We are conscious of no power that directs their motions, restrains their impetuosity, or regulates their disorder. No less irregular and discordant are the feelings and emotions of the heart. We are alike accessible to love or hatred, confidence or suspicion, exultation or despondency. These passions and dispositions are often blended together, or succeed each other, with a velocity which we can neither measure nor conceive. The soul that now melts with tenderness, is instantly frantic with rage. The countenance now adorned with complacency, and beauteous with the smile of content, is in a moment clouded with anxiety, or distorted with envy. He must therefore be more than mortal, who can reduce this tumultuous and disorderly chaos to regularity." Lift up thine eyes to the firmament," said a countryman to a philosopher, "number the stars, compute their distances, and explain their motions. Observe the

diversity of seasons, and the confusion occasioned by the changeableness of the weather: the sun and refreshing showers cherish the fruits of the earth; but our fields are often blighted with mildews, the sky is suddenly overcast, the storms descend, and the hopes of the year are blasted. Prescribe laws to the winds, and govern the rage of the tempests; then will I believe, that the course of nature is regular and determined." Thus, even external phænomena, to an uninstructed person, will seem as wild and incongruous as the motions and affections of the mind. On a more accurate inspection, he finds that harmony and design pervade the universe; that the motions of the stars are regular; and that laws are prescribed to the tempest. Nature extends her attention. to the most insignificant productions: the principles of vegetation are established immutable in the texture of the meanest blossom; the laws of its existence are accurately defined; and the period of its duration invariably determined. If these observations are just, and if we still maintain that the mind is in a state of anarchy and disorder,