METAPHYSICS.

[From "Yankee Notions."]

"Do you think Aristotle is right, when he says that relatives are related?" Vicar of Wakefield.

I HAVE a high opinion of metaphysical studies, and think the science a very useful one, because it teaches people what sheer nobodies they are. The only objection is, they are not disposed to lay this truth sufficiently to heart, but continue to give themselves airs, just as if some-folks were really some-folks. Old Doctor Sobersides, the minister of Pumpkinville, where I lived in my youth, was one of the metaphysical divines of the old school, and could cavil upon the ninth part of a hair about entities and quiddities, nominalism and realism, free will and necessity, with which sort of learning he used to stuff his sermons and astound his learned hearers, the bumpkins. They never doubted that it was all true, but were apt to say with the old woman in Moliere :

"Il parle si bien que je n'entend goutte." I remember a conversation that happened at my grandfather's, in which the Doctor had some difficulty in making his metaphysics all "as clear as preaching.' There was my grandfather, videlicet my grandfather; Uncle Tim who was the greatest hand at raising onions in our part of the country, but, "not knowing metaphysics, had no notion of the true reason of his not being sad;" my Aunt Judy Keturah Titterwell, who could knit stockings like all possest, but could not syllogize; Malachi Muggs, our hired man, that drove the oxen, and Isaac Thrasher, the district schoolmaster, who had dropped in to warm his fingers and get a drink of cider. Something was under discussion, and my grandfather could make nothing of it; but the Doctor said it was "metaphysically true."

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Pray, Doctor," said Uncle Tim, "tell me something about metaphysics; I have often heard of that science, but never for my life could find out what it was.

"Who the dogs ever doubted that?" asked Uncle Tim.

"A great many men," said the Doctor, "and some very learned ones."

Uncle Tim stared a moment, and then began to fill up his pipe, whistling the tune of Betty Martin, while the Doctor went on.

"The earth, I say, may exist, although Bishop Berkeley has proved beyond all possible gainsaying or denial, that it does not exist. The case is clear; the only difficulty is, to know whether we shall believe it or not.

"And how," asked Uncle Tim, " is all this to be found out?"

"By digging down to the first principles," answered the Doctor.

"Ay," interrupted Malachi, "there is nothing equal to the spade and pickaxe."

"That is true," said my grandfather, going on in Malachi's way, "t is by digging for the foundation that we shall find out whether the world exists or not; for, if we dig to the bottom of the earth and find a foundation-why then we are sure of it. But if we find no foundation, it is clear that the world stands upon nothing, or, in other words, that it does not stand at all; therefore, it stands to

reason

I beg your pardon," interrupted the Doctor, "but you totally mistake me; I use the word digging metaphorically, meaning the profoundest cogitation and research into the nature of things. That is the way in which we may ascertain whether things are or whether they are not."

"But if a man can't believe his eyes," said Uncle Tim, "what signifies talking about it ?"

"Our eyes," said the Doctor, "are nothing at all but the inlets of sensation, and when we see a thing, all we are aware of is, that we have a sensation of it; we are not sure that the thing exists. We are sure of nothing that we see with our eyes."

"Not without spectacles," said aunt Judy. "Plato, for instance, maintains that the sensation of any object is produced by a perpetual succession of copies, images or counterfeits streaming off from the object to the organs of sensation. Descartes, too, has explained the matter upon the principle of whirligigs."

"But does the world exist?" asked the schoolmaster.

"But in metaphysics," said the Doctor, "the case is different."

"Now all this is hocus pocus to me," said Aunt Judy, suspending her knitting work, and scratching her forehead with one of the needles. "I don't understand a bit more of the business than I did at first."

"I'll be bound there is many a learned professor," said Uncle Tim, "could say the same after spinning a long yarn of metaphysics."

The Doctor did not admire this gibe at his favourite science. "That is as the case may be," said he; "this thing or that thing may be dubious, but what then? Doubt the beginning of wisdom.”

"No doubt of that," said my grandfather, beginning to poke the fire, "but when a man has got through his doubting, what does he begin to build upon in the metaphysical way?"

Why, he begins by taking something for granted," said the Doctor.

"But is that a sure way of going to work?" ""Tis the only thing he can do," replied the Doctor, after a pause, and rubbing his forehead as if he was not altogether satisfied that his foundation was a solid one. My grandfather might have posed him with another question, but he poked the fire and let him go

on.

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Metaphysics, to speak exactly,"

"Ah," interrupted the schoolmaster, "bring it down to vulgar fractions, and then we shall understand it."

"'Tis the consideration of immateriality, or the mere spirit and essence of things."

"Come, come," said Aunt Judy, taking a pinch of snuff, "now I see into it."

“Thus, man is considered, not in his corporeality, but in his essence or capability of being; for a man metaphysically, or to metaphysical purposes, hath two natures, that of spirituality and that of corporeity, which may be considered separate."

"What man?" asked Uncle Tim.

.

By the spirit and essence of things I mean things in the abstract."

"And what becomes of a thing when it gets into the abstract?" asked Uncle Tim.

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Why it becomes an abstraction."

"There we are again," said Uncle Tim; "but what the deuce is an abstraction?"

"It's a thing that has no matter; that is, it cannot be felt, seen, heard, smelt, or tasted; it has no substance or solidity; it is neither large nor small, hot nor cold, long nor short."

"Then what is the long and short of it?" asked the schoolmaster.

"Abstraction," replied the Doctor. "Suppose, for instance," said Malachi, "that I had a pitchfork

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Ay," said the Doctor, "consider a pitchfork in general; that is, neither this one nor that one, nor any particular one, but a pitchfork or pitchforks divested of their materiality -these are things in the abstract."

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Pray," said Uncle Tim, "have there been many such things discovered?"

"Discovered!" returned the Doctor, "why all things, whether in heaven or upon the earth, or in the waters under the earth, whether small or great, visible or invisible, animate or inanimate ;-whatever the eye can see, or the ear can hear, or the nose can smell, or the fingers touch; finally, whatever exists or is imaginable in rerum natura, past, present, or to come,-all may be abstractions."

"Indeed!" said Uncle Tim, "pray what do you make of the abstraction of a red cow?"

As it

"A red cow," said the Doctor, "considered metaphysically, or as an abstraction, is an animal possessing neither hide nor horns, bones nor flesh, but is the mere type, eidolon, and fantastical semblance of these parts of a quadruped. It has a shape without any substance, and no colour at all, for its redness is the mere counterfeit or imagination of such. lacks the positive, so is it also deficient in the accidental properties of all the animals of its tribe, for it has no locomotion, stability, or endurance, neither goes to pasture, gives milk, chews the cud, nor performs any other function of a horned beast, but is a mere creature of the brain begotten by a freak of the fancy, and nourished by a conceit of the imagination."

"A dog's foot !" exclaimed Aunt Judy. "All the metaphysics under the sun wouldn't make a pound of butter."

"That's a fact!" said Uncle Tim.

THE DATURA FASTUOSA.

[Translated from the German of Hoffmann, by an American.]

CHAPTER I.

THE young student, Eugenius, was standing in the conservatory of his late master, Professor Ignatius Helms, admiring the crimson flowers of the amaryllis regina, which had opened that morning into full blow.

It was the first mild day of February—the sky was of the deepest blue, and without a cloud, and the sun shone cheeringly through the high windows. The later flowers which were still sleeping, as it were, in their cradles of green, appeared, under the influence of his beams, to be stirring in their dreams, and moving their leafy coverlets; while the earlier jessamine and mignionette, China-rose, snowdrop, and violet had awakened into full life and bloom, and filled the house with the most delicious perfume. Here and there a bird, more courageous than his mates, was pecking at the glass, as if wooing into the outer world the sweet, soft spring, which seemed shut up within.

"Poor Helms," exclaimed Eugenius, mournfully-" Poor old Helms! all this magnificence, all this pride thou seest no more! Thy eyes are closed for ever-thou_sleepest in the cold, dark earth! But no, I will not believe it-I know thou art still in the midst of these thy loved children, whom thou wert wont to tend with paternal fondness, even of those over whose premature decay thou hadst mourned!"

The soliloquy was broken off by the entrance of little Margaret, who, with her watering-pot in her hand, commenced bustling and rattling about among the plants.

Margaret! Margaret ! what are you doing?" cried Eugenius, impatiently. "I really believe you make it a point to water the flowers over and over again, for the mere purpose of destroying what I have taken so much pains with!"

Poor Margaret was near letting the watering-pot fall in her confusion.

"Ah, dear Eugenius," said she, with tears in her eyes," do not blame me be not displeased with me. You know I am a simple, foolish creature; and when I see the poor shrubs and plants shut up here from the rain and dew, they seem to look at me with such an imploring look, that I have not the heart to refuse them the food and drink-"

"Say rather the sickening sweetmeats which poison and destroy them," interrupted the student; "but I know you mean kindly to the plants. However, you want skill to direct your good intentions; and, notwithstanding my instructions, you take no pains to acquire a science which is so becoming, nay, so indispensable to a lady-since, without it, she does not know in what class or order to place

even the rose which she wears as an ornament. Can you tell me, for example," continued he, "what is the plant in yonder pot, just upon the point of flowering!"

"Oh yes," said the girl, brightening up again, "that is my favourite snow-drop." "See now," returned Eugenius; "you know not the name even of your own favourite! That is the Galanthus Nivalis."

"Galanthus Nivalis !" repeated Margaret, timidly. "Ah, dear Master Eugenius, that is to be sure a very fine name; but I cannot bring myself to think that it is my own sweet snowdrop. When I was a little girl

"And are you not so still?" interrupted her companion.

The girl coloured to the eyes.

"I believe," stammered she, "after fourteen one is not called a child any longer."

"Well," said Eugenius, with an arch smile, "it is not very long since your large, new doll

She turned away hastily, and in a moment was at the other end of the conservatory, her face buried among the plants which were ranged upon the floor.

"Nay, be not displeased, Margaret," pursued Eugenius. "Ever continue the same good, innocent, dear child, which our kind old professor rescued from her heartless relatives; and who, ever since, has been to him and his kind-hearted lady in the light of a beloved daughter. But you were going to tell me something.

"Oh, it was a foolish idea that occurred to me," said she; "but as you wish, I will tell you. When you called the snow-drop by that fine name, I could not help thinking of Miss Rose. You know, Master Eugenius, we were once but one heart and one soul, and while children were inseparable playmates. But one day, about a year since, Rose on a sudden became quite serious and quite strange in her whole manner towards me; telling me that for the future I should not call her 6 Rose,' but Miss Rosalinda.' I have done so; but ever since she has been becoming more and more strange to me; from that hour I had lost my own dear Rose. I was thinking it would be so with my flowers also, if I were on a sudden to call them by these highsounding and strange names.'

"Well, there is something singular enough in that notion," muttered Eugenius. "I can easily perceive your meaning, though I do not so well understand your words. However, this does not affect the noble science of botany in the least; and, although your friend Rose had never become Miss Rosalinda, it does not follow that you should disregard the names by which your favourites are known in the polite world. I trust, therefore, that you will avail yourself of my instructions. But, for the present, my dear, good girl, look to these hyacinths. Push the Gloria Solis and

While Margaret, whose blushes were renewed when Eugenius called her "his dear, good girl," commenced, all animation and pleasure, to pursue his directions, Dame Helms, the late professor's widow, entered the conservatory. The student pointed out the fine blow of spring flowers. He praised particularly the Amaryllis Regina, which his good old master had prized even more than the formosissima, and of which he took particular care, in memory of his kind master and dear friend.

"You have a kind, affectionate heart, Eugenius," said the lady with emotion. "There was not one of his numerous pupils for whom my lamented husband felt the same paternal affection which he felt for you-in none had he found the same kindred spirit and congenial taste. Young Eugenius,' would he often say, is a true-hearted virtuous youth, and the plants love him, and thrive under his hand.' You will recollect he always called his flowers 'God's children;' and used to say that a wayward, vicious, reckless disposition, was 'the enemy' that scatters the seeds of those wild and poisonous weeds in whose breath 'God's children' perish.'

The tears stood in the young enthusiast's eyes.

"Yes, dear and honoured lady," said he, "I will ever be true to this pious affection for the memory of my preceptor and father. While I breathe, this fair temple which he loved shall bloom as of old. I intend, with your permission, to occupy this little room beside the conservatory; in order that, like him, I may have all more immediately under my own eye."

"Alas!" replied the widow, "I fear there must soon be an end of this rare and splendid collection. It is true I am not without skill in the science of my dear husband. But, heaven help me! how could a lone woman at my years keep all in order, however anxious, like an active and vigorous man! And since it is necessary that you and I, dear Eugenius, should separate

"What do you say?" asked Eugenius, in a tone of alarm. "But I suppose I know -you wish merely to frighten me.

Dame Helms complained that she felt chilly; and desired Margaret to go into the house for her shawl. When they were alone she continued, in a still more serious tone

"It is happy for you, dear Eugenius, that you are too guileless, too ignorant of the world, and too generous, to comprehend fully

were banished from the home of his heart, could he hope for peace or contentment upon earth." He besought her in the most affecting terms, "not to banish one whom she had adopted as her son, into a dreary desert, without comfort and without hope for such, to him, were all other places upon earth."

The lady appeared violently agitated, as if struggling to work herself to some painful resolution.

all that I am compelled to say to you. I am now close upon my sixtieth year: you are scarce four-and-twenty, and I might easily be your grandmother. One should suppose, therefore, that this might place our living_together beyond the reach of calumny. But, alas! its poisonous tongue spares no one-not even the aged matron of the most spotless life; and, ridiculous as it may appear, there would not be wanting wretches who would make your residence under my roof the subject of their malicious raillery. On you this would fall even more than on myself: and, therefore, for the sake of both, it is expedient that we separate. But fear not, my dear boy, I shall ever, notwithstanding, look upon you as my son-even had it not been the dying charge of my husband, you and Margaret should ever be to me in the light of chil

dren."

The student remained for a time silent and motionless. The truth was, he could not perceive the inconvenience of his continuing to reside under the same roof, nor how that circumstance could furnish material for scandal. But, then, the express determination of the lady that he should leave the home in which all his pursuits and all his pleasures were centred the thought that he must take leave of all his favourites, which he had tended so long with a parent's caree-this came like a death-blow upon him.

He was one of those simple-minded men, who have no desires beyond their own little circle, in which they move free and contented. To them the cultivation of that art or science, to which they have devoted their whole souls, is the brightest, and, indeed, the only object of their existence-an oasis in what they deem the dreary and joyless desert of ordinary life, for them beset with innumerable perils. Mere children in the ordinary intercourse of lifeawkward and unhappy in their mannerswrapt up in that stiff dress of pedantry inseparable from scientific pursuits-one might deem them destitute of heart and of feeling; and many a bitter jeer are they doomed to meet from little minds, with them secure of an easy victory. And yet within the secret souls of such men the sacred fire of loftiest genius not unfrequently burns. Strangers to the varied and bustling occupations of the external world, the pursuit to which they have devoted their affections and their truth is the link which binds them to the throne of the Eternal-their innocent and unobtrusive life is one unbroken adoration in that eternal temple which is within our hearts! Such was Eugenius.

When he had recovered sufficiently from his consternation to collect his words, he declared, with a degree of warmth in him quite unusual, that, "if he were compelled to go, he must, from that moment, look upon his career in life as at an end: for never, if he

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Eugenius," said she, at length, with a strong effort, "there is one means by which you may continue to live here as beforebecome my husband. I know you too well," she continued as he looked up in silent amazement, "I know you too well to suppose that you will misunderstand my motives; and, therefore, I do not hesitate to tell you, that this proposal is not a thought of the moment, but the fruit of serious consideration. You are, and probably will continue during life, unskilled in the ways of the world. You require, even in its most limited sphere, some one to take in your stead the burden of providing for your slightest wants, in order that you may be at liberty to devote your entire energies to the pursuit of science. can discharge this office so well as a tender and affectionate mother? and this will I continue in the most strict sense of the word, though the world may call me your wife. know that you have never bestowed a thought upon marriage. But the same feeling may still continue. For the benediction of the priest shall not alter in any degree our mutual relations; if it be not to consecrate me, yet more solemnly, as a mother to you; and to render in you the relation of son yet more sacred and tender."

Now who

I

At this moment Margaret returned with the shawl.

"I do not ask a hasty decision," concluded the matron. "Do not decide till you have considered the matter fully. You recollect the old advice: not to determine upon any question without having slept upon it."

With these words she left the conservatory, taking Margaret along with her. It was perfectly true that Eugenius had never bestowed a thought upon the subject of marriage. It was not in any way connected with his allabsorbing study; and, therefore, had never once occurred to his imagination. The proposal, consequently, at first took him by surprise, because it brought before his mind an idea of life which to him was perfectly new. But, when he reflected upon it, he became perfectly reconciled; feeling that nothing could be better, or more conducive to his happiness, than that the church should bless an union, which to him would secure an affectionate mother and all the sacred rights of He would gladly have declared his determination at once: but, as a time had been fixed for deliberation, he was compelled

a son.