upon the heights of Phyle; and can tread upon the spots which have acquired sanctity from the genius and philosophy of which they were once the seats. The hill of the Areopagus, the Academy, the Lycæum, the Portico, the Pnyx, if not all equally distinct in their situation, yet can admit of little error in this respect; and the traveller may safely venture to assert to himself, that he is standing where Demosthenes spoke to the Athenians, and where Plato and Aristotle addressed themselves to their scholars. Nowhere is antiquity so well substantiated as at Athens, or its outline more completely filled up both to the eye and imagination.

"The impressions of this nature, which the traveller obtains, derive much vividness from the number of minute vestiges surrounding him; and these are often even more striking to the fancy than the greater memorials of ancient art. Every point in and around Athens abounds with such vestiges;-the fragments of columns, sculptured marbles, and Greek inscriptions. Scarcely a single house but affords some of these remains, more or less mutilated; yet all with some interest annexed to them, as the representatives of a past age. This familiarity and fre quency with which classic names and images are brought before the eye cannot fail of interesting the attention; and it forms one of the most striking circumstances to the stranger in Athens.

"The character of the landscape around the city is very peculiar, even without reference to any of the features that have been described. There is a certain simplicity of outline and colouring, combined with the magnificence of form and extent, which contributes much to this particular effect. It cannot be called a rich scenery, for the dry soil of Attica refuses any luxuriance of vegetation; and, excepting the great olive grove of the plain, little wood enters into the landscape. Yet one of its most striking features is a sort of repose, which may be derived from the form of the hills, from their slopes into the plain, and from the termination of this plain in the placid surface of the gulph of Salamis; above all, perhaps, from the resting point which the eye finds in the height of the Acropolis, and in the splendid groupe of ruins covering its summit. In this latter object there is a majestic tranquillity, the effect of time and of its present state, which may not easily be described, so as to convey an idea of the reality of the spot. The stranger will find himself perplexed in fixing on the point of view whence the aspect of these ruins is most imposing, or their combination most perfect with the other groupes which surround them." (P. 408-410.)

In a note we are informed that all the ranges of hills which traverse Attica, are composed of primitive lime-stone, reposing on mica slate. The inclination of the mica slate is from 50° to 60°. Some serpentine also occurs.

From Athens to Eleusis, Megara, Corinth, Mycenae, Argos,. Tripolitza, little more is recorded than the itinerary. From Tripolitza, our traveller passed the site of Mantinca to Patrass, whence he proceeded to Zante.

According to a promise made to Ali Pasha, Dr. Holland

returned to Prevesa, whence he made a rapid excursion up the Gulph of Arta, visited the ruins of Nicopolis, and proceeded to the mountains of Suli, inhabited by a race of hardy warriors, who during seventeen years resisted the constant attacks of Ali. At length they were overcome by the treachery of some of their chiefs. Resolved, however, to perish with their independence, they continued the combat to the last. "A female, named Cheitho, distinguished herself greatly in this extremity, and Samuel, one of the Suliote priests, and leaders, is said to have blown up the building he had been defending, when it could no longer be saved from the enemy. Finding themselves surrounded, and losing at length every hope, they became desperate; a considerable number cut their way through Ali's troops and fled; some slew themselves, a greater number were slain. It is related as an authentic story, that a group of Suliote women assembled on one of the precipices adjoining the modern seraglio, and threw their infants into the chasm below, that they might not become the slaves of the enemy."

After his second return to Ioannina, Dr. Holland visited the North of Albania, and other remarkable spots, Tepeleni, Ali's birth-place, and Gardiki, the scene of his sanguinary vengeance for an insult of forty years standing.

The narrative concludes with the Author's return to Ioannina and Zante, with an appendix detailing, from a Roman newspaper, an account of Major De Bosset's discoveries; an account of Mr. Sadler's ascent in a balloon, and catalogues of officinal plants growing in Cephalonia and in the environs of Ioannina.

The work of which we have just given some account, is written in an easy perspicuous style, and is particularly happy in some sketches, both of scenery and of character. It is, however, occasionally slovenly, and the frequent use of the expression of "for various reasons not necessary to be here given," gives the appearance of affected mystery, very ana logous to that of a cunning shake of the head. The information which it contains is various, but imperfect; so that although we have a little of every thing, we have nothing thoroughly examined. The general statistics, the mineralogy, and the geographical sketches are particularly lame; we have indeed nothing valuable in any one of these branches. We think too, that the Doctor has, in his natural and laudable zeal to associate the splendid deeds of the "older time” with the scenes over which he travelled, entered too much into details with which almost every school-boy is familiar. An allusion to a classical mind is abundantly sufficient, and the details can génerally be commanded in the originals. On some controverted topics we have pointed out a few of the most important errors, which may easily be corrected hereafter. Upon the whole we

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frankly acknowledge, that we have been disappointed in Doctor Holland's travels, and we most earnestly press upon him, that if he be desirous of handing down a fair fame to posterity, he must deliberate longer on any future work that he may contemplate, than he has done on this.

We may add that the sketches which Dr. Holland has given are done prettily, and do credit to his talents as a draughtsman.

ART. IX.-Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind. By Dugald Stewart, Esq. F. R. S. Edinburgh; Honorary Member of the Imperial Academy of Sciences at St. Petersburgh; Member of the Royal Academy of Berlin, and of the American Philosophical Society, held at Philadelphia; formerly Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh. Volume second, 4to. pp. 568. Edinburgh 1814. Constable and Co.; Cadell and Davies, London.

IN giving an account of this volume, a task is imposed upon the critic of no ordinary magnitude, and to which the limits of a Review are very imperfectly adapted. It forms the second part of a great work, intended to exhibit a complete view of the intellectual operations of the human mind. Mr. Stewart is well known to be a faithful and distinguished disciple of that philosophy to which in this country, where philosophical pursuits have never excited much enthusiasm, the distinction has been almost exclusively confined, of rising to the reputation of a system, and being regarded as the foundation of a particular school. It is not alone to the volume before us that our attention must, therefore, be directed. This volume is but a continuation of the speculations commenced in the work which preceded it; and both are but emanations of that system of doctrines, and that plan of inquiry, which were recommended by Doctor Reid, and which have enjoyed a fortune almost new in this island.

The earliest of the works of Dr. Reid, his " Inquiry into the Human Mind, on the Principles of Common Sense," appeared, at rather a remarkable era in the history of British philosophy. Two illustrious followers, Bishop Berkeley and Mr. Hume, had succeeded Mr. Locke. Reflecting upon the sensations or feelings, communicated by the organs of sense, Bishop Berkeley was led to put to himself the question, What is their cause? The usual answer to this question is obvious; that matter and its qualities are their cause. Colour is the cause of the feeling in

the mind called sight, hardness is the cause of a particular modification of the feeling in the mind called touch. To the penetrating and inquisitive mind of Berkeley, this answer did not prove quite satisfactory. The feeling in the mind was totally unlike any quality in matter. What reason was there for the belief that the one depended upon the other? Upon inquiry, it appeared that the only reason was, the existence of the mental feelings. The feelings are produced in the mind, therefore they are produced by something: they are produced in a certain order, therefore they are produced by the qualities of matter.

Led to penetrate further and further into this mystery, the question was at last suggested to the Bishop, what evidence he had for the existence of those qualities of matter, to which he was taught to look as the cause of his sensations. It immediately. appeared, that for the existence of the qualities of matter he had no evidence whatsoever, but the existence of these sensations themselves. With this discovery, and the conclusions which flowed from it, he was deeply impressed. With regard to these sensations, all that man really knows, is, that they come into his mind, according to a certain order, which he learns by experience. That order has two forms. The sensations come into his mind, either one after another; or several of them come into it all at once. Those which come into the mind successively have given rise to no particular mystery. The case is different with those of which the entrance into the mind is synchronous. Suppose that the mind has the feeling, which has the name sight of a yellow colour; the colour of a golden ball, for example. If a man had no other sense but that of sight, he would have no other feeling associated with this sight of yellow. He moves and applies his hand in a particular manner; that is to say, certain feelings, one after another, take place in his mind, the last of which is, that he has the ball in his hand. At the same time that the sensation called sight of a yellow colour is in the mind, the sensations called a feeling of hardness, of roundness, and of weight, are now in the mind, along with a sensation of sameness in place with respect to them all. Now this cluster of sensations is all that is in the mind of a man, when he is said to perceive a ball of gold; and the conception of these sensations is all that is in his mind when he is said to think of the ball of gold.

But what, then? is nothing ever in the mind but its own feelings? No, certainly; nothing whatsoever. But what evidence do the feelings of the mind afford of matter or its properties?

* Feeling, in this and other passages, is merely employed as a generic word to express the objects of consciousness.

Bishop Berkeley answered the question without hesitation. They afford no evidence at all. Nothing can be like a feeling in the mind, but a correspondent feeling of the same or another mind. When we suppose external objects, we do nothing but suppose certain unknown causes of our sensations; of which we can conceive nothing but that they are an unknown something, to which our sensations are owing. This supposition Bishop Berkeley declared to be an arbitrary hypothesis, unsupported by even the shadow of a reason. He also affirmed it to be absolutely insignificant, answering no one good purpose, either of utility, or of curiosity. Nay he proceeded still further, and produced a variety of curious reasons, to prove that the supposition really involves absurdity and contradiction, and cannot be held by any man who will obey the dictates of his reason.

If feelings afford no inference to the existence of any material cause of them, another question arises, what inference do they afford to that of a mind in which they may inhere? Berkeley scruples not to start the difficulty; and appears to allow, that, if in this case there was nothing more than in that of the cause of our sensations, we should never be entitled to draw a conclusion from the existence of our feelings to the existence of any thing beyond themselves; nor could regard the mind as any thing else than a system of floating ideas, connected together in a certain order, but without any ascertainable subject in which they inhere. He asserted, however, that the existence of the mind was proved by a different process; and by a palpable inaccuracy remarkable in so acute a metaphysician, declared that he was conscious of his mind, and of its personal identity.

Of this position it was easy for Mr. Hume to show the ab surdity. We are conscious of the feelings of perceiving, of re membering, of willing, of approving and disapproving, loving, hating, and such like; but we are not conscious of any thing else; we are not conscious of any substance in which these feelings inhere. If not, and if we have no knowledge of mind beyond these modifications of consciousness, by what inference do we affirm, that mind is any thing beside themselves? As the exter nal world is an arbitrary hypothesis, assumed to aid in accounting for the existence of our sensations, the mind, in the same manner, is an arbitrary hypothesis, an unknown something, assumed to aid in accounting for all the modifications of consciousness. But it is an hypothesis which really explains nothing; for we as little understand how feelings should exist în an unknown something, as how they should exist by themselves.

Such was the state of philosophical inquiry in this country, when Reid appeared. He declares that he was satisfied at first with the reasonings of Berkeley; and might fairly be ranked