life, and a most miserable habitation for rational beings; and therefore some are of opinion, that they are so many hells for tormenting the damned with perpetual vicissitudes of heat and cold. But when we consider, on the other hand, the infinite power and goodness of the Deity; the latter inclining, the former enabling him to make creatures suited to all states and circumstances; that matter exists only for the sake of intelligent beings: and that wherever we find it, we always find it pregnant with life, or necessarily subservient thereto; the numberless species, the astonishing diversity of animals in earth, air, water, and even on other animals; every blade of grass, every tender leaf, every natural fluid, swarming with life, and every one of these enjoying such gratifications as the nature and state of each requires: when we reflect moreover, that some centuries ago, till experience undeceived us, a great part of the earth was judged uninhabitable; the torrid zone, by reason of excessive heat, and the two frigid zones because of their intolerable cold; it seems highly probable, that such numerous and large masses of durable matter as the comets are, however unlike they be to our earth, are not destitute of beings capable of contemplating with wonder, and acknowledging with gratitude, the wisdom, symmetry and beauty of the creation; which is more plainly to be observed in their extensive tour through the heavens, than in our more confined circuit. If farther conjecture is permitted, may we not suppose them instrumental in recruiting the expended fuel of the Sun; and supplying the exhausted moisture of the planets?However difficult it may be, circumstanced as we are, to find out their particular destination, this is an undoubted truth, that wherever the Deity exerts his power, there he also manifests his wisdom and goodness. no bigger than a point, although it is at least 162,000,000 miles in diameter. For the Earth in going round the Sun is 162,000,000 miles nearer to some of the stars at one time of the year, than at another; and yet their apparent magnitudes, situations, and distances from one another still remain the same; and a telescope which magnifies above 200 times, does not sensibly magnify them: which proves them to be at least 400,000 times farther from us than we are from the Sun. It is not to be imagined, that all the stars are placed in one concave surface, so as to be equally distant from us; but that they are scattered at immense distances from one another through unlimited space. So that there may be as great a distance between any two neighbouring stars, as between our Sun and those which are Dearest to him. Therefore an observer, who is nearest to any fixed star, will look upon it alone as a real sun; and consider the rest as so many shining points placed at equal distances from him in the firmament. By the help of telescopes we discover thousands of stars which are invisible to the naked eye; and the better our glasses are, still the more become visible; so that we can set no limits either to their number or their distances. The celebrated Huygens carries his thoughts so far, as to believe it not impossible, that there may be stars at such inconceivable distances, that their light has not yet reached the Earth since its creation, although the velocity of light be a million of times greater than the velocity of a cannon-bullet; and Mr. Addison very justly observes, this thought is far from being extravagant, when we consider, that the universe is the work of infinite power, prompted by infinite goodness; having an infinite space to exert itself in; so that our imagination can set no bounds to it. The fixed stars, as appears from several considerations, are placed at an immense The Sun appears very bright and large distance from us. Our Earth is at so great in comparison of the fixed stars, because a distance from the Sun, that if seen from we keep constantly near the Sun, in comthence, it would appear no bigger than a parison of our immense distance from the point, although its circumference is known stars. For a spectator, placed as near to to be upwards of 25,000 miles. Yet that any star as we are to the Sun, would see distance is so small, compared with the that star a body as large and bright as the Earth's distance from the fixed stars, that Sun appears to us; and a spectator, as if the orbit in which the Earth moves far distant from the Sun as we are from round the Sun were solid, and seen from the stars, would see the Sun as small as we the nearest star, it would likewise appear see a star, divested of all its circumvolv ing planets and would reckon it one of the stars in numbering them. The stars, being at such immense distances from the Sun, cannot possibly receive from him so strong a light as they seem to have; nor any brightness sufficient to make them visible to us. For the Sun's rays must be so scattered and dissipated before they reach such remote objects, that they can never be transmitted back to our eyes, so as to render these objects visible by reflection. The stars therefore shine with their own native and unborrowed lustre, as the Sun does; and since each particular star, as well as the Sun, is confined to a particular portion of space, it is plain, that the stars are of the same nature with the Sun. It is no ways probable, that the Almighty, who always acts with infinite wisdom, and does nothing in vain, should create so many glorious suns, fit for so many important purposes, and place them at such distances from one another, without proper objects near enough to be benefited by their influences. Whoever imagines they were created only to give a faint glimmering light to the inhabitants of this globe, must have a very superficial knowledge of astronomy, and a mean opinion of the Divine Wisdom: since, by an infinitely less exertion of creating power, the Deity could have given our Earth much more light by one single additional moon. Instead then of one sun and one world only in the universe, as the unskilful in astronomy imagine, that science discovers to us such an inconceivable number of suns, systems and worlds, dispersed through boundless space, that if our Sun, with all the planets, moons, and comets belonging to it, were annihilated, they would be no more missed by an eye that could take in the whole creation, than a grain of sand from the sea shore. The space they possess being comparatively so small, that it would scarce be a sensible blank in the universe, although Saturn, the outermost of our planets, revolves about the Sun in an orbit of 488,400,000 miles in circumference, and some of our comets make excursions upwards of 10,000,000,000 miles beyond Saturn's orbit: and yet, at that amazing distance, they are incomparably nearer to the Sun than to any of the stars; as is evident from their keeping clear of the attractive power of all the stars, and returning periodically by virtue of the Sun's attraction. From what we know of our own system, it may be reasonably concluded, that all the rest are with equal wisdom contrived, situated, and provided with accommodations for rational inhabitants. Let us therefore take a survey of the system to which we belong; the only one accessi ble to us; and from thence we shall be the better enabled to judge of the nature and end of the other systems of the universe. For although there is almost an infinite variety in the parts of the creation which we have opportunities of examining, yet there is a general analogy running through and connecting all the parts into one scheme, one design, one whole! And then, to an attentive considerer, it will appear highly probable, that the planets of our system, together with their moons, are much of the same nature with our Earth, and destined for the like purposes. For they are solid opaque globes, capable of supporting animals and vege tables. Some of them are bigger, some less, and some much about the size of our Earth. They all circulate round the Sun, as the Earth does, in a shorter or longer time, according to their respective distances from him; and have, where it would not be inconvenient, regular returns of summer and winter, spring and autumn. They have warmer and cooler climates, as the various productions of our earth require: and, in such as afford a possibility of dis covering it, we observe a regular motion round their axis like that of our Earth, causing an alternate return of day and night; which is necessary for labour, rest, and vegetation, and that all parts of their surfaces may be exposed to the rays of the Sun. Such of the planets as are farthest from the Sun, and therefore enjoy least of his light, have that deficiency made up by several moons, which constantly accompany, and revolve about them, as our Moon revolves about the Earth. The remotest planet has over and above, a broad ring en compassing it; which, like a lucid zone in the heavens, reflects the Sun's light very copiously on that planet: so that if the remoter planets have the Sun's light fainter by day than we, they have an addition made to it morning and evening by one or more of their moons, and a greater quan tity of light in the night-time. On the surface of the Moon, because it is nearer us than any other of the celestial bodies are, we discover a nearer resem blance blance of our Earth. For, by the assistance of telescopes, we observe the Moon to be full of high mountains, large valleys, deep cavities, and even volcanoes. These similarities leave us no room to doubt, but that all the planets and moons in the system are designed as commodious habitations for creatures endowed with capacities of knowing and adoring their beneficent Creator. Since the fixed stars are prodigious spheres of fire, like our Sun, and at inconceivable distances from one another, as well as from us, it is reasonable to conclude, they are made for the same purposes that the Sun is; each to bestow light, heat, and vegetation on a certain number of inhabited planets, kept by gravitation within the sphere of its activity. What an august! what an amazing conception, if human imagination can conceive it, does this give of the works of the Creator! Thousands of thousands of suns, multiplied without end, and ranged all around us, at immense distances from each other, attended by ten thousand times ten thousand worlds, all in rapid motion, yet calm, regular, and harmonious, invari ably keeping the paths prescribed them; and these worlds peopled with myriads of intelligent beings, formed for endless progression in perfection and felicity. If so much power, wisdom, goodness, and magnificence is displayed in the material creation, which is the least consider able part of the universe, how great, how wise, how good must he be, who made and governs the whole ! Ferguson. 2. Reflections on the Earth and Sea. It has been already observed, that the Earth ranks as a planet in the solar system; that its diameter is near 8,000 miles, and its circumference about 25,000. The surface of it is divided into land and water; the land is again divided into four parts, which are called, Europe, Asia, Africa, and America. The seas and unknown parts of its surface contain, 160,522,026 square miles; the inhabited parts 38,990,569: Europe 4,456,065; Asia 10,768,823; Africa 2,654,807; America 14,110,874; in all 199,512,595; which is the number of square miles on the whole surface of our globe. And if we examine it a little farther, what an admirable specimen have we of the divine skill and goodness! This globe is intended, not only for an habitation, but for a storehouse of conveniencies. And if we examine the several apartments of our great abode, we shall find reason to be charmed with the displays both of nice economy and boundless profusion. The surface of the ground, coarse as it may seem, is yet the laboratory where the most exquisite operations are performed. And though a multitude of generations have been accommodated by it, still continues inexhaustible. The unevenness of the ground, far from being a defect, heightens its beauty and augments its usefulness. Here it is scooped into deep and sheltered vales, almost constantly covered with verdure, which yields an easy couch and agreeable food to the various tribes of cattle. There it extends into a wide, open country, which annually bears a copious harvest; an harvest not only of the principal wheat, which is the staff of our life, but of the appointed barley, and various other grain, which are food for our animals. The furrows vary their produce. They bring forth flax and hemp, which help us to some of the most necessary accommodations of life. These are wove into ample volumes of cloth, which fixed to the mast, give wings to our ships. It is twisted into vast lengths of cordage, which gives nerves to the crane, and sinews to the pulley, or else adhering to the anchor, secure the vessel, even amidst the driving tempest. It covers our tables with a graceful elegance, and surrounds our bodies with a cherishing warmth. Yonder arise the hills, like a grand amphitheatre! Some are clad with mantling vines, some crowned with towering cedars, some ragged with mis-shapen rocks, or yawning with subterraneous caves. And even those inaccessible crags, those gloomy cavities, are not only a refuge for wild goats, but sometimes for those of whom the world was not worthy. At a greater distance the mountains penetrate the clouds, with their aspiring brows. Their sides arrest and condense the vapours as they float along. Their caverned bowels collect the dripping trea sures, and send them gradually abroad by trickling springs: and hence the waters increasing roll down, till they have swept through the most extensive climes, and regained their native seas. The vine requires a strong reflection of the What is nature but a series of wonders? That such a variety of fruits should rise from the insipid, sordid earth? I take a walk through my garden or orchard in December. There stand several logs of wood on the ground. They have neither sense nor motion; yet in a little time they are beautiful with blossoms, they are covered with leaves, and at last loaded with fruit. I have wondered at the account of those prodigious engines, invented by Archimedes. But what are all the inventions of men, to those nice automata of nature? The forest rears myriads of massy bodies, which, though neither gay with blossoms, nor rich with fruit, supply us with timber of various kinds. But who shall cultivate them? The toil were endless. See therefore the ever wise and gracious ordination of Providence! They have no need of the spade or the pruning-knife. They want no help from man. When sawed into beams, they sustain the roofs of our houses. They make carriages to convey our heaviest loads. Their substance is so pliant, that they are easily formed into every kind of furniture: yet their texture so solid, that they compose the most important parts of the largest engines. At the same time their pressure is so light that they float upon the waters. Thus while they serve all the ends of architecture, and bestow numberless conveniencies on the family, they constitute the very basis of navigation, and give being to commerce. If we descend from the ground-floor of our habitation into the subterraneous lodgments, we shall find there also the most exquisite contrivance acting in concert with the most profuse goodness. Here are various minerals of sovereign efficacy; beds fraught with metals of richest value; and mines, which yield a metal of a meaner aspect, but superior usefulness. Without the assistance of iron, what would become of all our mechanic skill? without this we could scarce either fix the mast, or drop the faithful anchor. We should scarce have any ornament for polite, or utensil for common life. Here is an inexhaustible fund of combustible materials. These mollify the most stubborn bars. They melt even the most stubborn flint, and make it more ductile than the softest clay. By this means we are furnished with the most curious and serviceable manufacture in the world; which admits into our houses the cheering light, yet excludes the wind and rain ; which gives new eyes to decrepid age, and more enlarged views to philosophy; bringing near what is immensely remote, and making visible what is immensely small. Here are quarries stocked with stones, which do not sparkle like gems, but are more eminently useful. These form houses for peace, fortifications for war. These constitute the arches of the bridge, the arms of the mole or quay, which skreen our ships from the most tempestuous seas. These are comparatively soft in the bowels of the earth, but harden when in the open air. Was this remarkable peculiarity reversed, what difficulties would attend the labours of the mason? His materials could not be extracted from their bed, nor fashioned without infinite toil. And were his work completed, it could not long withstand the fury of the ele ments. Here are various assortments and beds of clay, which, however contemptible in its appearance, is abundantly more beneficial than the rocks of diamond or veins of gold: this is moulded into vessels of any shape and size; some so delicately fine as to suit the table of a princess; others so remarkably cheap, that they minister to the convenience of the poorest peasant: all so perfectly neat, as to give no disgust even to the nicest palate. A multiplicity of other valuable stores. is locked up in those ample vaults. But the key of all is given to industry, in order to produce each as necessity demands. Which shall we most admire, the bounty or wisdom of our great Creator? How admirable is his precaution in removing these cumbrous wares from the surface, and bestowing them under the ground in proper repositories? Were they scattered over the surface of the soil, it would be embarrassed with the enormous load. Our roads would be blocked up, and scarce any room left for the operations of hus bandry. bandry. Were they, on the other hand, buried at a great depth, it would cost us immense pains to procure them. Were they uniformly spread into a pavement for nature, universal barrenness must ensue : whereas at present we have a magazine of metallic, without lessening our vegetable treasures. Fossils of every kind enrich the bowels, verdure adorns the face of the earth. Well then may even the inhabitants of heaven lift up their voice and sing, Great and marvellous are thy works, O Lord God, Almighty! And is there not infinite reason for us to join this triumphant choir? Since all these things are to us, not only a noble spectacle, bright with the display of our Creator's wisdom, but likewise an inestimable gift, rich with the emanations of his goodness. The earth hath he set before the inhabitants of his glory; but he hath given it to the children of men. Has he not then an undoubted right to make that tender demand,-My son, give me thine heart? The rocks which bound the sea, are here prodigiously high and strong, an everlasting barrier against both winds and waves. Not that the omnipotent engineer has any need of these here. It is true, they intervene, and not only repress the rolling billows, but speak the amazing Majesty of the Maker. But in other places the Creator shews, he is confined to no expedient. He bids a bank of despicable sand repel the most furious shocks of assaulting seas. And though the waves toss themselves, they cannot prevail: though they roar, yet they cannot pass over. Nay, is it not remarkable, that sand is a more effectual barrier against the sea than rock? Accordingly the sea is continually gaining upon a rocky shore: but it is continually losing on a sandy shore; unless where it sets in with an eddy. Thus it has been gaining, from age to age, upon the isle of Portland and the Land's End in Cornwall, undermining, throwing down, and swallowing up one huge rock after another. Mean time the sandy shores both on our southern and western coasts, gain continually pon the sea. Beneath the rocks frequently lies a smooth, level sand, almost as firm as a well compacted causeway; insomuch that the tread of an horse scarce impresses it, and the waters never penetrate it. Without this wise contrivance the searching waves would insinuate into the heart of the earth; and the earth itself would in some places be hollow as an honey-comb, in others bibulous as a sponge. But this closely-cemented pavement is like claying the bottom of the universal canal; so that the returning tides only consolidate its. substance, and prevent the sun from cleaving it with chinks. Here the main rolls its surges from world to world. What a spectacle of magnificence and terror! How it fills the mind and amazes the imagination! It is the most august object under the whole heaven. What are all the canals on earth, to this immense reservatory? What are the proudest palaces on earth, to yonder concave of the skies? What the most pompous illuminations, to this source of day? They are a spark, an atom, a drop. Nay, in every spark, and atom, and drop, that proceeds from the hand of the Almighty, there is the manifestation of a wisdom and a power absolutely incomprehensi ble. Let us examine a single drop of water, only so much as will adhere to the point of a needle. In this speck an eminent philosopher computes no less than thirteen thousand globules. And if so many thousands exist in so small a speck, how many in the unmeasured extent of the ocean? Who can count them? As well may we grasp the wind in our fist, or mete out the universe with our span. Nor are these regions without their proper inhabitants, clothed in exact conformity to the clime; not in swelling wool, or buoyant feathers, but with as much compactness and as little superfluity as possible. They are clad, or rather sheathed in scales, which adhere close, and are laid in a kind of natural oil: than which apparel nothing can be more light, and at the same time nothing more solid. It hinders the fluid from penetrating their flesh it prevents the cold from chilling their blood; and enables them to make their way through the waters, with the utmost facility. And they have each an air-bladder, a curious instrument, by which they rise to what height or sink to what depth they please. It is impossible to enumerate the scaly herds. Here are animals of monstrous shapes, and amazing qualities. The upper jaw of the sword-fish is lengthened into a strong and sharp sword, with which S (though |