tences of matter, and the most universal passions, which in either globe are exceeding potent, and transverberate the universal nature of things, he shall receive clear information concerning celestial matters from the things seen here with us: and, contrariwise, from those motions which are practised in heaven, he shall learn many observations which are now latent, touching the motion of bodies here below, not only so far as their inferior motions are moderated by superior, but in regard they have a mutual intercourse by passions common to them both." "that our hopes

"We must openly profess," Bacon says, of discovering the truth with regard to the celestial bodies, depends upon the observation of the common properties, or the passions and appetites, of the matter of both states; for as to the separation that is supposed betwixt the etherial and sublunary bodies, it seems to me no more than a fiction, and a degree of superstition mixed with rashness, &c. Our chiefest hope and dependance in the consideration of the celestial bodies is, therefore, placed in physical reasons, though not such as are commonly so called; but those laws which no diversity of place or region can abolish, break through, disturb, or alter."

So, too, Diderot says: "Et je dis, Heureux le Géomêtre en qui une étude consommée des sciences abstraites n'aura point affoibli le goût des beaux-arts, à qui Horace et Tacite soient aussi familières que Newton; qui saura découvrir les propriétés d'une courbe, et sentir les beautés d'un poëte; dont l'esprit et les ouvrages seront de tous les temps, et qui aura le mérite de toutes les académies."

It is rather an interesting fact, that what Bacon theorised Newton is said to have practised. The story is ;-" Newton retired from the university to avoid the plague which raged with great violence. Sitting under a tree in an orchard, an apple fell upon his head. As there is motion, there must be a force which produces it. Is this force of gravity confined to the surface of the earth, or does it extend to the heavenly bodies?"

"Let this be a rule therefore," Bacon says, "that all divisions of knowledge be so accepted and applied, as may rather design forth and distinguish sciences into parts; than cut and pull them asunder into pieces; that so the continuance and entireness of knowledge may ever be preserved. For the contrary practice hath made particular sciences to become barren, shallow and erroneous; while they have not been nourished, maintained, and rectified, from the common fountain and nursery. So we see Cicero the orator complained of

Socrates, and his school; that he was the first that separated philosophy and rhetoric: whereupon rhetoric became a verbal and an empty art. And it is also evident, that the opinion of Copernicus, touching the rotation of the earth (which now is maintained) because it is not repugnant to the phenomena, cannot be reversed by astronomical principles: yet by the principles of natural philosophy, truly applied, it may. So we see also that the science of medicine, if it be destitute and forsaken of natural philosophy, it is not much better than empirical practice.

ALL KNOWLEDGE IS VALUABLE.

As error may thus lead to truth, and as there is this union between different sciences, it seems to follow that all knowledge is valuable, and that a well ordered mind may out of every evil extract some good, with no other chemistry than wisdom and serenity.

There is an interesting illustration of this position in a sermon published by Dr. Ramsden, assistant professor of divinity at Cambridge, who, in shewing the tendency of all knowledge, to form the heart of a nation, says:

"We will venture to say how in the mercy of God to man, this heart comes to a nation, and how its exercise or affection appears. It comes by priests, by lawgivers, by philosophers, by schools, by education, by the nurse's care, the mother's anxiety, the father's severe brow. It comes by letters, by science, by every art, by sculpture, painting, and poetry; by the song on war, on peace, on domestic virtue, on a beloved and magnanimous king; by the Iliad, by the Odyssey, by tragedy, by comedy. It comes by sympathy, by love, by the marriage union, by friendship, generosity, meekness, temperance, by virtue, and example of virtue. It comes by sentiments of chivalry, by romance, by music, by decorations and magnificence of building, by the culture of the body, by comfortable clothing, by fashions in dress, by luxury and commerce. It comes by the severity, the melancholy, the benignity of the countenance; by rules of politeness, ceremonies, formalities, solemnities. It comes by rites attendant on law, by religion; by the oath of office, by the venerable assembly, by the judge's procession and trumpets, by the disgrace and punishment of crimes; by public fasts, public prayer, by meditation, by the Bible, by the consecration of churches, by the sacred festival, by the cathedral's gloom and choir. Whence the heart of a nation comes, we have, perhaps, sufficiently explained. And it must appear to what most awful obligation and duty we hold all those from whom this heart

takes its nature and shape, our king, our princes, our nobles, all who wear the badge of office or honour; all priests, judges, senators, pleaders, interpreters of law, all instructors of youth, all seminaries of education, all parents, all learned men, all professors of science and art, all teachers of manners. Upon them depends the fashion of the nation's heart. By them is it to be chastised, refined and purified. By them is the state to lose the character and title of the beast of prey. By them are the iron scales to fall off, and a skin of youth, beauty, freshness, and polish, to come upon it. By them it is to be made so tame and gentle, as that a child may lead it."

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If there is any truth in these observations, there results a rule of Lord Bacon's of considerable importance. Let not the mind be fixed: but kept open to receive continual amendment, that mind alone being in a perfect state for the acquisition of knowledge which is capable at any time to acquire any sort of knowledge; the defects of the understanding from this cause, being an inability at particular times, to acquire knowledge; or an inability to acquire particular sorts of knowledge. He says, Certainly custom is most perfect when it beginneth in young years; this we call education, which is in effect but an early custom. So we see in languages, the tongue is more pliant to all expressions and sounds; the joints are more supple to all feats of activity and motions in youth than afterwards: for it is true, that late learners cannot so well take the ply, except it be in some minds that have not suffered themselves to fix, but they kept their minds open and prepared to receive continual amendment, which is exceeding rare.'

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EXCESSIVE ATTACHMENT TO PARTICULAR STUDIES.

That different men are attached to different studies is a truth too obvious to require illustration. Attachment to particular studies is,' says Lord Bacon, an idol of the understanding' men,' he says, 'are fond of particular sciences and studies, either because they believe themselves the authors and inventors thereof, or because they have bestowed much pains upon them, and principally applied themselves thereto.""

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NOTE III.-Text 140.

CAUSE AND EFFECT.

I. There is through all nature a regular succession of

events.

If a spark be put to gunpowder it will explode. If a stone strike a pane of glass it will break; if ice be exposed to heat it will melt. It is thus we see that certain events regularly succeed each other in the inanimate world, and there is the same succession of events in bodies animate.

Take a frozen snake with some of the snow around it and place it before a small fire; take a lupin or any other seed and place it early in the month of May in the ground, or take some new laid eggs and place them in due warmth, and you may perceive the snake to move, to open its eyes, and soon to quit the snow in which it was shrouded: the lupin will rise above the surface of the earth, and you will see branches and leaves and flowers: the egg will open and a small bird appear. It is thus we see that there is a regular sequence of events by the action of inanimate upon animate bodies.

There is the same sequence of events attendant upon the action of animate bodies on each other: of mind upon mind. Take, for instance, the effect of distress upon the female mind. In some book of Travels, I think it is Mungo Park's in Africa, he says, "I never when in distress and misery applied for relief to a female without finding pity, and if she had the power, assistance." Griffith in his Travels, says,—

"On the northern side of the plain we had just entered, was a large encampment of these people, composed of brown and white tents, which, though low and small, wore an aspect even of comfort as well as regularity. Being in absoÎute want of milk, I determined to solicit the assistance of these Turcomans. Approaching the tent therefore with gradual step and apparent indifference, I passed several without observing any probability of succeeding; children only were to be seen near the spot where I was, and men with their flocks at a certain distance. Advancing still further, I saw a woman at the entrance of a small tent, occupied in domes tic employment: convinced that an appeal to the feelings of the female sex, offered with decency by a man distressed with hunger, would not be rejected, I held out my wooden bowl, and reversing it, made a salutation according to the forms of the country, urging my suit by gestures. The kind

Turcomaunee covered her face precipitately and retired within the tent, she was alone, I did not advance a step, until that curiosity which it were ungracious in me to disapprove, induced her to peep from behind her coarse retreat. She saw me unassuming: my inverted bowl still explained my wants, and a salutation repeated seemed to be addressed to her hospitality. The timidity of her sex, the usages of her country, and even the fear of danger, gave way to the benevolence of her heart. She went to the tent again, returned speedily with a bowl of milk, and advancing towards me with a glance more than half averted, filled my bowl to the brim and vanished."

II. All the order and happiness in the world depends upon the regular sequence of events.

All things that are, have some operation not violent or casual. Neither doth any thing ever begin to exercise the same, without some fore-conceived end for which it worketh. And the end which it worketh for is not obtained unless the work be also fit to obtain it by. For unto every end every operation will not serve. That which doth assign unto each thing the kind, that which doth moderate the force and power, that which appoints the form and measure of working, the same we term a law. So that no certain end could ever be attained, unless the actions whereby it is attained were regular, that is to say, made suitable, fit, and correspondent unto their end, by some canon rule of law.-HOOKER'S ECCLE

SIASTICAL POLITIE.

The blessings which result from the regular sequence of events will be evident by a moment's consideration of the misery attendant upon an interruption of this regularity;— suppose, for instance, that calculating upon the nutritious effects of food it was to have the effect of poison, or that sugar had the effect of arsenic; or that fire, instead of exhilarating by a genial warmth, had the violent effects of gunpowder; or that, at the moment of attack, gunpowder ceased to be inflammable, is it not obvious what misery must result?

III. Our power depends upon our knowledge of the sequence of events.

Archimedes by his knowledge of optics was enabled to burn the Roman fleet before Syracuse, and baffle the unceasing efforts of Marcellus to take the town.-An Athenian admiral delayed till evening to attack, on the coast of Attica, a Lacedemonian fleet, which was disposed in a circle, be