he will wring them from the anguish of wretched and ill-fated creatures; and whether for the indulgence of his barbaric sensuality or barbaric splendour, can stalk paramount over the sufferings of that prostrate creat on which has been placed beneath his feet. That beauteous domain whereof he has ben constireted the terrestrial sovcreign gives out so many blissf I and benignant aspects; and whether we look to its peacefu lakes, or to its flowery luudse pes, or its evening skies, or to all that soft attire which overspreads the hills and the valleys. Ighted up by smiles of sweetest sunshine, and where animals disport themselves in all the exuberance of galety-this surely were a more befitting scene for the rule of clemency, than for the ion rod of a murderous and remorseless tyrant. But the present is a mysterious world wherein we dwell. It still bears much upon its materialism of the impress of Paradise. Ent a breath from the air of Pandemonium has gone over its Eving generations; and so the fear of man and the dread of man is now upon every beast of the earth, and upon every fowl of the air, and upon all that moveth upon the earth, and upon all the fishes of the sea; into man's hands are they delivered: every moving thing that liveth is meat for him; yea, even as the green herbs, there have been given to him all things. Such is the extent of his jurisdiction, and with most full and wanton license has he revelled among its privileges. The whole earth labours and is in violence because of his cruelties; and from the amphitheatre of sentient nature there sounds in fancy's ear the bleat of one wide and universal suffering-a dreadful homage to the power of nature's constituted lord.

These sufferings are really felt. The beasts of the field are not so many antomata without sensation, and just so constructed as to give forth all the natural signs and expressions of it. Nature hath not practised this universal deception upon our species. These poor animals just look, and tremble, and give forth the very indications of suffering that we do. Theirs is the distinct cry of pain. Theis is the unequivocal physiognomy of pain. They put on the same aspect of terror on the demonstrations of a menaced blow. They exhibit the same distortions of agony after the infliction of it. The bruise, or the burn. or the fracture, or the deep incision, or the fierce encounter with one of equal or superior strength, just affects them similarly to ourBelves Their blood circulates as ours. They have pulsations in various parts of the body like ours. They sicken, and they grow feeble with age, and, fina ly, they die just as we do. They possess the same feelings; and, what exposes them to like suffering from another quarter, they possess the same instincts with our own species, The lioness robbed of her whelps causes the wilderness to ring aloud with the proclamation of her wrongs; or the bird whose little household has been stolen, fills and sadders all the grove wi h melodies of deepest pathos. All this is palpable even to the general and unlearned eye; and when the physiologist lays open the recesses of their system by means of that scalpel, under whose operation they jest shri k and are convulsed as any living subject of our own species-there stands forth to view the same sentient apparatus, sad furnished with the same conducters for the transmission of feeling to every minutest pore upon the surface. Theirs is remixed and unmitigated pain-the agonies of martyrdom without the alleviation of the hopes and the sentiments whereof they are incapable. When they lay them down to die, their only fellowship is with suffering for in the prison-house of their beset and bounded faculties there can no relief be afforded by communion with other interests or other things. The attention does not lighten their distress as it does that of man, by carrying off his spirit from that existing pungency and pressure which might de be overwhelming. There is but room in that mysterious economy for one inmate and that is the absorbing sense of their own ingle and concentrated anguish And so in that bed of torment whereon the wounded animal lingers and expires, there is ru rcxplored depth and intensity of suffering which the poor dumb animni itself cannot tell, and against which it can offer no remonstrance-an u told and unknown anicunt of wretchedness of which no articulate voice gives utterance. But there is an eloquence in its silence; and the very shroud which disguises it only serves to rggra vate its horrors.

Insignificance of this Earth.

Though the earth were to be burnt up, though the trumpet of its dissolution were Founded, though yon sky were to pass away as a scroll, and every visible glory which the finger of the Divinity has inscribed on it were extinguished for over-an event so awful to us, and to every world in our vicinity, by which so many suus would be ex

tinguished, and so many varied scenes of life and population would rush into forgetfulness-what is it in the high scale of the Almighty's workmanship? a mere shred, which, though scattered into nothing, would leave the universe of God one entire scene of greatness and of maj sty. Though the earth and the heavens were to disappar, there are other worlds which roll afar; the light of other suns shines upon them; and th sky which mantles them is garnished with other stars. Is it presumption to say that the moral world extends to the se d stant and unknown regions? that they are occupied with people? that the charities of home and of neighbourhood flourish there? that the praises of God are there lifted up, and his goodness rejoiced in? that there pity has its templ and its offerings? and the richness of the divine attributes is ther felt and admired by intelligent worshippers?

And want is this world in the iminensity which teens with them: and what are they who occa by it? The universe at large would suffer as little in its splendour and variety by the duration of our plant, as the verdure and sublime magnitude of a forest would s iff or by the fall of a single leaf. The leaf quivers on the branch which supports it. It lies at the mercy of the slightest accident. A breath of wind tears it from its stem. and it lights on the stream of water which passes underneath. In a moment of time, the life which we know by the microscope it teems with is extingaishel; and an occurrence so insignificant in the eye of man, and on the scale of his observation, carries in it to the myriads which people this little leaf au event as terrible and as decisive as the destruction of a world. Now, on the grand scale of the universe, we, the occupiers of this ball, which performs its little round among the suns and the systems that astronomy has unfolded-we may feel the same littleness and the same insecurity. We differ from the leaf only in this circumstance, that it would require the operation of greater elements to destroy us. Bu: these elements exist, The fire which rigs within may lift its devouring energy to the surface of our planet, and transform it into one wide and wasting volcano. The sudden formation of elastic matter in the bowels of the earth-and it lies within the agency of known substances to accomplish this-mi explode it into fragments. The exhalation of noxious air from blow may impart a virulence to the air that is around us; it may affect the delicate proportion of its ingredients; and the whole of animated nature may wither and die under the malignity of a tainted atmosphere. A blazing comet may cross this fated planet in its orbit, and raliz all the terrors which superstition has conceived of it. We cannot anticipate with precision the consequences of an event which every astronomer must know to lie within the limits of chance and probabil ity. It may hurry our globe towards the sun. or drag it to the outer regions of the planetary syst, or give it a new axis of revolution-and the effect, which I shall simply announce without explaining it, would be to change the place of the ocean, and bring another mighty flood upon our stands and continents.

There are changes which may happ n in a single instant of time, and against which nothing known in the present system of things provides us with any security. They might not annihilate the earth. but they would unpeople it, and we, who tread its surface with such firm and assured footsteps are at the mercy of devouring cele ments, which, if let loose upon us by the hand of the Almighty, would spread solitude, and silence, and death over the dominions of the world.

Now, it is this littleness and this insecurity which make the protection of the Almighty so dear to us, and bring with such emphasis to every pion- bosom the holy lesson's of humility and gatitul. The God who sitteth above, and prides in high anthority over all worlds. is mindful of man; and though at this moment his energy is felt in the remotest provinces of creation, we may feel the same security in lis providence as if we were the objects of his undivided care.

It is not for us to bring our minds up to this mysterious agency. But such is the incomprehensible fact, that the same being whose eye is abroad over the whole univers, gives vegetation to every blade of grass, and motion to every particle of blood which circulates foro iga tae veins of the minutest animal; that though his mind takos into his comprah n-iv grasp immensity and all its wonders, I am as much known to him as if I were the si el · object of his attention; that he marks all my thoughts; that he gives birth to every feel ng and every movement within me; and that, with an exercise of power which I can neither describe nor comprehend. the same God who sits in the highest heaven, and reigns over the glories of the firmament. is at ny right hand, to give me every breath which I draw, and every comfort which I enjoy.

The Statute-book not necessary towards Christianity.

How comes it that Protestantism made such triumphant progr ss in these realms when it had pains and penalties to struggle with? and how came this progress to be arrested from the moment it laid on these pains and penalties in its tura? What have all the enactments of the statute-book done for the cause of Protestantism in Ireland ? and how is it. that when single-handed I ruth walked through our island with the might and prowess of a conqueror, so soon as propped by the authority of the state, and the armour of intolerance was given to her, the brilliant career of her victories was ended? It was when she took up the carnal and laid down the spiritual weapon-it was then that strength went out of her. She was struck with impotency on the instant that, from a warfare of principle, it became a warfare of politics. There are gentlemen opposed to us profound in the documents of history; but she has really nothing to offer half so instructive as the living history that is now before our eyes. With the pains and penalties to fight against, the cause of Reformation did almost everything in Britain; with the pains and penalties on its side, it has done nothing, and worse than nothing, in Ireland.

But after all, it is a question which does not require the evidence of history for its elucidation. There shines upon it an immediate light from the known laws and principles of human nature. When Truth and Falsehood enter into collision upon equal terms, and do so with their own appropriate weapons the result is infallible, Magna est veritas, et prævalebit. But if, to strengthen the force of Truth, you put the forces of the statute-book under her command, there instantly starts up on the side of Falsehood an auxiliary far more formidable. You may lay an inc pacity on the persons, or yon may put restraint and limitation on the property of Catholics; but the Catholic mind becomes tenfold more impregnable than before. It is not because I am indifferent to the good of Protestantism that I want to displace these artificial crutches from under her; but because I want t at. freed from every symptom of decrepitude and decay, she should stand forth in her own native strength, and make manifest to all men how firm a support she has on the goodness of her cause, and on the basis of her orderly and well-laid arguments. It is because I count so much-and will any Protestant here present say that I count too much ?-on her Bible and her evidences, and the blessing of God upon her churches, and the force of her resistiess appeals to the conscience and the understandings of men-it is because of her strength and sufficiency in these that I would disclaim the aids of the statute-book, and own no dependence or obligation whatever on the system of intol erance. These were enough for her in the days of her suffering, and should be more than enough for her in the days of her comparative safety. It is not by our fears and our false alarms that we do honour to Protestantism. A far more befitting honour to the great cause is the homage of our confidence: for what Sheridan said of the liberty of the press, admits of most emphatic application to this religion of truth and liberty. Give,' says that great orator-give to ministers a corrupt House of Commous; give them a pliant and a servile House of Lords; give them the keys of the treasury and the patronage of the crown; and give me the liberty of the press, and with this mighty engine I will overthrow the fabric of corruption, and establish upon its ruins the rights and privileges of the people' In like manner, give the Catholics of Ireland their emancipation; give them a sent in the parliament of their country; give them a free and equal participation in the politics of the realm; give them a place at the right car of Majesty, and a vo ce in his counsels; and give me the circulation of the Bible, and with this mighty engine I will overthrow the tyranny of Antichrist, and establish the fair and original form of Christianity on its ruins."

DUGALD STEWART.

We have no profound original metaphysician in this period, but some rich and elegant commentators. PROFESSOR DUGALD STEW

The above forms part of a speech delivered at a public meeting in Edinburgh in March 18:9, in favour of removing the Roman Catholic disabilities, The effect of Dr. Cha mers's address is described as prodigious, the audience rising to their feet and cheerlug vociferously.

ART expounded and illustrated the views of his distinguished teacher, Dr. Reid; and by his essays and treatises, no less than by his lectures, gave additional grace and popularity to the system. Mr. Stewart was the son of Dr. Matthew Stewart, Professor of Mathematics in the university of Edinburgh, and was born in the college Luildings, November 22, 1753. At the early age of nineteen he undertook to teach his father's mathematical classes, and in two years was appointed his assistant and successor. A more congenial opening occurred for him in 1780, when Dr. Adam Ferguson retired from the Moral Philosophy chair. Mr. Stewart was appointed his successor, and continued to discharge the duties of the office till 1810, when Dr. Thomas Brown was conjoined with him as colleague. The latter years of his life were spent in literary retirement at Kinneil House, on the banks of the Firth of Forth, about twenty miles from Edinburgh. His political friends, when in office in 1806, created for him the sinecure office of Gazette writer for Scotland, with a salary of £600 per annum. Mr. Stewart died in Edinburgh on the 11th of June 1828. No lecturer was ever more popular than Dugald Stewart -his taste, dignity, and eloquence rendered him both fascinating and impressive. His writings are marked by the same characteristics, and can be read with pleasure even by those who have no great partiality for the metaphysical studies in which he excelled. They con sist of Philosophy of the Human Mind,' one volume of which was published in 1792, a second in 1813, and a third in 1827; also Phifosophical Essays,' 1810; a Dissertation on the Progress of Metaphysical and Ethical Philosophy,' written in 1815, to which a second part was added in 1821; and à View of the Active and Moral Powers of Man,' published only a few weeks before his death. Mr. Stewart also published Outlines of Moral Philosophy,' and wrote Memoirs of Robertson the historian, and Dr. Reid. All the years I remained about Edinburgh,' says Mr. James Mill, himself an able metaphysician, I used, as often as I could, to steal into Mr. Stewart's class to hear a lecture, which was always a high treat. I have heard Pitt and Fox deliver some of their most admired speeches, but I never heard anything nearly so cloquent as some of the lectures of Professor Stewart. The taste for the studies which have formed my favourite pursuits, and which will be so to the end of my life, I owe to him.' A handsome edition of the collected Works of Dugald Stewart, edited by Sir William Hamilton, with a Memoir by Professor Veitch, was published in Edinburgh, in eleven volumes.

On Memory

It is generally supposed, that of all our faculties, memory is that which nature has bestowed in the most unequal degrees on different individuals; and it is far from being impossible that this opinion may be well founded. If. however, we consider that there is scarcely any man who has not memory sufficient to learn the use of language, and to learn to recognise, at the first glance, the appearances of an infiuite number of familiar objects; besides acquiring such an acquaintance with the laws of Lature, and the ordinary course of human affairs, as is necessary for directing his

conduct in life, we shall be satisfied that the original disparities among men, in this respect, are by no means so immense as they seem to be at first view; and that much is to be ascribed to different Labi s of attention, and to a difference of selection among the various events presented to their curiosity.

It is worthy of remark, also, that those individuals who possess unusual powers of memory with respect to any one class of objects, are commonly as remarkably deficient in some of the other applications of that 1aculty. I knew a per-on who, though completely ignorant of Latin, was able to repeat over thirty or forty lines of Virgil, after having heard them once read to him-not, indeed, with perfect exactness, but with such a degree of resemblance as (all circumstances considered) was truly astonishing; yet this person (who was in the condition of a servant) was singularly deficient in memory in all cases in which that faculty is of real practical utility. He was noted in ever family in which he had been employed for habits of forgetfulness, and cold scarcely deliver an ordinary message without committing some plunder.

A similar observation, I can almost venture to say, will be found to apply to by far the greater number of those in whom this facuity seems to exhibit a preternatural or anomalous degree of force. The varieties of memory are indeed wonderful, but they ought not to be confounded with inequalities of memory. One man is distinguished by a power of recollecting names, and dates, and genealogies; a second by the multiplicity of speculations and of general conclusions treasured up in his intellect; a third, by the facility with which words and combinations of words (the very words of a speaker or of an author) seem to lay hold of his mind; a fourth, by the quickness with which he seizes and appropriates the sense and meaning of an author, while the phraseology and style seem altogether to escape his notice; a fifth. by his memory for poetry; a sixth, by his memory for music; a seventh, by his memory for architecture, statuary, and painting, and all the other objects of taste which are addressed to the eye. All these different powers seem miraculous to those who do not possess them; and as they are apt to be supposed by superficial observers to be cominonly united in the same individuals, they contribute much to encourage those exaggerated estimates concerning the original inequalities among men in respect to this faculty which I am now endeavouring to reduce to their first standard.

As the great purpose to which this faculty is subservient is to enable us to collect and to retain for the future regu ation of our conduct, the results of our past experience, it is evident that the degreee of perfection which it attains in the case of different persons must vary; first, with the facility of making the original acquisition; secendly, with the permanence of the acquisition; and thirdly with the quickness or readiness with which the individual is able, on particular occasions, to apply it to use. The qualities, therefore, of a good memory are, in the first place, to be susceptible; secondly, to be retentive; and thirdly, to be rea y.

It is but rarely that these three qualities are united in the same person. Wo oft u, indeed, meet with a memory which is at once susceptible and ready; but I doubt much if such memories be commonly very retentive; for the same set of habits which are favourable to the first two qualities are adverse to the third. Those individu is, for example, who, with a view to conversation, make a constant business of informing themselves with respect to the popular topics of the day, or of turning over the ephemeral publications subservient to the amusement or to the politics of the times, are naturally led to cultivate a susceptibility and readiness of memory, but have no inducement to aim at that permanent retention of selected ideas which enables the scientific student to combine the most remote materials, and to concentrate at will, on a particular object, all the scattered lights of his experience and of his reflections. Such men (as far as my observation has reached) seldom possess a familiar or correct acquaintance even with those classical remains of our cwn earlier writers which have ceased to furnish topics of discourse to the circles of fashion. A stream of novelties is perpetually passing through their minds, and the faint impressions which it leaves soon vanish to make way for others, like the traces which the ebbing tide leaves upon the sand. Nor is this all. In proportion as the associating principles which lay the foundation of susceptibility and readiness predominate in the memory, those which form the basis of our more solid and lacting acquisitions may be expected to be weakened, as a natural consequence of the general laws of our intellectual frame.