We conceive by necessity of some cause or causes unseen, beyond, directing, controlling, energizing, those perceived causes, in which, at first view, this power seemed to reside.

To ascend thus from apparent to unseen causes, from physical to supernatural power, seems to be the necessary tendency of our intellectual nature. The human mind is hardly capable of so intense degradation as not to recognize the existence of some power unseen, by which all that is seen is governed and sustained. Hence have arisen the innumerable systems of idolatry which have prevailed among men. Every nation recognizes some invisible powers as the causes of visible changes, and hence as objects of worship. The very absurdity of many of these systems teaches us this tendency in the clearest possible manner. The more absurd the object of worship, the stronger is the proof that the necessities of the human intellect demand some cause to which the changes of visible nature can be referred; and that it will accept the most preposterous notion of an ultimate cause, sooner than believe that no such cause exists.

But the human mind, having advanced thus far, proceeds by necessity a step further. As we contemplate the various phenomena of the universe, we observe that no class of facts, nor any single fact, is isolated. All are parts of one plan, the development of one idea. The vegetable and animal kingdoms, the laws which govern organic and inorganic nature, and the relations which subsist between them, all represent portions of one idea, which must have been conceived by a single intelligence before anything visible was created. Hence we are called upon to account for this perfect harmony in this infinite variety of parts, the perfect order which exists among beings in themselves so diverse from each other. We can account for it only on the supposition that the cause of causes is not many, but one, infinite in power and wisdom, the sufficient reason why every

thing is, and why it is as we now behold it. That this opinion has universally prevailed among men who have addicted themselves to thinking, is manifest. The philosophers who paid an outward respect to the classic mythology acknowledged and reverenced the Supreme Divinity. And everywhere, among men of reflection, it has been acknowledged that, if there are causes beyond those which we perceive, there must be one universal Cause, all-powerful, allwise, all-good, self-existent, and, of course, eternal.

But, supposing this to be granted, other questions emerge from this belief. If there be a universal, all-pervading Cause, what is the nature of his agency? In material causation, is he the sole operator in every change, so that every event is an immediate act of the Deity, or the result of such an act? Or, on the other hand, has he constituted matter with such attributes and relations that all which we see is the necessary consequence of the original creation, from which the Creator has withdrawn, and over which he now exerts no agency? And, again, in spiritual changes, similar questions arise. Does the free will of man act independently of any controlling agency of the Deity, or is the Deity the cause of spiritual change, as in the first supposition above in regard to matter? Or has he so created spirits that the changes of which we are conscious proceed by necessity from the elements of our original creation? These questions, and many more, arise from the conception of an universal, all-pervading, and all-powerful Cause.

With respect to these inquiries, I would remark, in general, that I believe the most opposite answers to either of them can probably be proved to be true, by arguments which it would be difficult to confute; and that the clearest reasoning may lead us to results at variance with the simplest dictates of our moral and intellectual nature. To what conclusion, then, shall we arrive? I answer, to the belief

that the subject is clearly beyond the reach of our understanding. The point in which the infinite and the finite come in contact has been, and must ever be, hidden from mortal eyes. It is the dictate of reason and religion that the Deity is all-wise, all-good, and all-powerful, and therefore that he is the only being capable of governing the universe which he has made. It is not possible that such a being should govern it too much. On the other hand, we have the evidence of our own consciousness that we are perfectly free. We know that such a being as the Deity must carry on his wise and just and merciful intentions, and that he must carry them on through the agency of his intelligent creatures; we know, also, that we are perfectly free to act as we choose, and that this freedom is an essential element of our moral responsibility. Of the manner in which these agencies coöperate, I think we must be content to remain in ignorance.

REFERENCES.

Idea of power-Locke, Book 2, chap. 7, sec. 8.

Power, active and passive-Locke, Book 2, chap. 21, sec. 2.

Cause and effect-Locke, Book 2, chap. 26.

Idea of a God-Locke, Book 4, chap. 10, sec. 1-8.

Cause and effect - Reid, Essays on In. Powers, Essay 6, chap. 6.

Power, cause and effect-Reid, Essays on Active Powers, Essay 1.

Locke's idea of power examined Cousin, chap. 4.

Notion of power derived either from the objective or subjective — Cousin, chap. 4.

SECTION V.— -SUGGESTED IDEAS ACCOMPANIED BY EMOTION.

WE have thus far considered those ideas which are suggested to us by the contemplation of objects which produce in us no emotion. They are purely intellectual, and have

no other effect upon us than to increase our knowledge. Thus, the ideas of duration, cause and effect, space, and a variety of others, are simple knowledges, and produce in us no ulterior state of mind.

Were we merely intellectual beings, these would be all the suggestive ideas of which we need be conscious. But we find the case to be otherwise. We are made not only to

know, but to feel. As we look abroad upon the world, we find ourselves not only capable of knowing that things are or are not, but also of deriving pleasure or pain from the contemplation of them. Who does not know with what eager gaze the eyes of the child are turned towards the rainbow? Who has not been deeply moved at beholding the glory of a summer's sunset? Again, it is undeniable that we are variously affected by our observation of the actions of our fellow-men. Some of them awaken in us admiration, respect, gratitude and love; others fill us with disapprobation, disgust and abhorrence. These various cognitions, and the emotions which they create, belong, I suppose, to the class of original suggestions. They may be divided into two classes: 1, Ideas of the beautiful and the sublime, or ideas of taste; and, 2, Moral ideas.

1. Ideas of the beautiful and sublime.

Let us commence the exposition of this subject by an example. Suppose there were placed before us an antique marble vase of exquisite workmanship. We look at it, and observe its color, and form, and proportions. We feel of it, and discover that it is solid, smooth and heavy. our other senses, and ascertain whether or any qualities which they can recognize. When we have done this, we have obtained all the knowledge concerning it which our perceptive faculties can give.

We test it by not it possesses

Let us now place by the side of it a rough block of marble, of a similar magnitude. The senses give us, as before,

a knowledge of its color, form, solidity, roughness or smoothness, sonorousness, taste and smell. This knowledge is all that our perceptive faculties can give us in either case. Were we merely intellectual, that is, unemotional beings, no other impression besides that of knowledge would be produced upon us. Both of these objects would be contemplated with equal indifference; nay, the rough block might be preferred, if we could devote it to a purpose of utility of which the other was not susceptible. Thus, we are told that, not unfrequently, the remains of a beautiful statue are found imbedded in mortar, in the wall of a peasant's hovel, in the neighborhood of an ancient city on the plains of Asia Minor.

Let us now observe these objects together, and remark the feelings which they awaken within us. We cannot fail to observe that the one has a power of affecting us very differently from the other. As we look upon the one, we are conscious of an emotion of exquisite pleasure. We attach to it a value such as wealth can scarcely estimate. We look upon the other with total indifference, or, it may be, with disgust, and cast it away as an incumbrance. To the one we are powerfully attracted, while from the other we are repelled. We recognize in the one the quality of beauty, of which we perceive the other to be destitute. A child at an early age would make this distinction. Every one knows how strongly even very young persons are attracted by brilliant colors and agreeable forms. Yet this emotion cannot be defined. It arises unbidden at the contemplation of outward objects of a particular character, under such circumstances as have been appointed by the Creator to occasion it within us.

senses.

This idea is not, however, cognizable directly by the We neither see, nor hear, nor feel, nor taste, beauty; nor is it an energy of our minds. Yet, whenever we per