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of the artist constantly reason's about hese, as well as that of the philosoher about abstract truths.-By means of this faculty, the occurrence of any particular truth constantly suggests a practical judgment concerning others, with which it appears to be related in causation or necessary connection; and we draw a speculative conclusion, as if the causes and consequences were also before our eyes, hereby exhibiting the faculty of abstract reasoning, which is the distinguishing faculty of man.

Thus have we briefly sketched six of the rational faculties, and have shewn the manner of their operation. Hitherto, however, we have advanced no further in the scale of the rational faculties, than that which constitutes merely what may be called unfeeling intelligence; that which rather tends to puff up the mind with exalted ideas of its own abilities, than leads it directly to the discovery of truth for its own sake.

But as there is in the irrational scale the faculty of imitation, and as this faculty is strikingly analogous to our ideas of morality, on account of moral principle exciting in us feelings and sentiments of which we can give no account, except that we feel them, and that they unaccountably dispose us to imitate or affect some things, and to dislike and abhor others; so the analogy in the rational scale leads us to docility or humility, as the correspondent faculty of imitation in the irrational.

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and is distinguished by many pompous names, such as emulation, honour, renown, fame, magnanimity, heroism, the mens conscia recti,'"&c. In consequence of the perversion, therefore, this seventh faculty of the intellect, instead of being that ornamental grace, humility, is the light and the fire which illuminate and excite all carnal minds, the primum mobile of all their actions, in short, the " god whom they worship instead of the Eternal."

Here then, comes the grand point of difference between the children of God, and the children of this world. It hangs entirely upon the different use and application of this seventh faculty of the human intellect. Here commences faith, and here commences apostasy. Proceeding from one and the same principle in the soul, the one takes the right hand, and the other the left; the one, through much present abasement, proceeds in the sure but rugged path, to true glory, honour, and immortality, in the world to come; the other, through the deceitful allurements of present gratifications, proceeds in the equally sure, but often delusively pleasant path, to everlasting shame and contempt, the very reverse of glory and honour.

The doctrine of Him "who spake as never man spake," is most explicit on this point. As if the natural and proper exercise of all the other faculties of the soul would be secured by natural self-love; as if this were the very 7. Docility or humility, therefore, turning point between the operations being the highest of the intellectual of mere intellect and faith; as if this faculties, would, in the original con- were the critical spot, from whence, if stitution of man, necessarily arise out we proceed either to the right or to of the speculative or reasoning princi- the left, it must terminate in our wellple; as in truth it does among the being or ruin,-the first lesson which perfect in heaven,-every view that is this unparallelled instructor inculcates given of their character, being that of on mankind, is founded on this faculty, the profoundest humility, connected Matt. xviii. 1-4. The first lesson, I with the greatest powers of intelli- say, which this great teacher come gence; but among men on earth, true from God inculcates, is docility and humility is now found only in those humility. And this he enforces, not who have in some measure been made only by precept, but by example. Nor conformed to the original image of does he select his emblem from among God," which was lost by the first the great, or the wise, or the most actransgression. Docility or imitation, in complished in the scale of intellithe natural man, is far from proceed-gence, but from a class of beings who ing from genuine humility; it is rather exhibit, without guile, this highest a kind of docility or imitation, as Mr. faculty of the human intellect. He Macnab remarks," of the author of all took a little child, and set him in the evil; consisting in pride, or, what is midst," not merely of his disciples, called in the world, the desire of glory; but as it were of all mankind, “and

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said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever, therefore, shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of hea

ven.

Such is the doctrine which our Saviour taught. And it presents us, when spiritual and natural things are connected together, with the following beautiful threefold gradation. 1. In the mere animal scale, there is a gradual procedure from simple sensation or feeling, in the first step, to something which leads to imitation in the last. 2. In the intellectual scale, there is likewise a gradual procedure from the mere consciousness that we think, and can distinguish, and reason, till we arrive at a point that strongly inclines us to pursue something as a chief end. But here we stop, and, by the effort of our natural faculties, can proceed no further; for never was there a question which agitated and divided mankind more than this"What constitutes the chief end of human actions?" 3. Here, therefore, in the children of the regeneration, who are to be considered as yet a higher order of beings than mere men as they are born into the world, the twilight of faith begins. And, as in the first scale, animation was necessary in order to sensation; and in the second, thought in order to reason; so in the third, is docility and humility in order to faith.

the first, we would say, that not fe but many, even all shall be saved, who humbly and cordially receive the truth in the love of it. And in answer to the second, the rich, whatever hi riches may consist of, must become poor; he must, in his own apprehen sion, have no more to recommend him to a place in that kingdom, than the meanest, the most ignorant, the most vile and worthless that ever breathed.

But ah! exclaim pride and ot nacy, what a hard saying is this? It may be so; but wherein, pray, does the difficulty lie? Thou callest thyself a philosopher, that is to say, a lover of wisdom, an investigator into the reason and cause of things; now what is the cause, and what will be the consequence, of thy spurning at princi ples which are founded, not only on the revelation of God, but on the nature of things?

What is there then, in the nature of things, that startles men so much at the reception of this doctrine? Is it because these profound investigators have discovered it to be founded in error? This, we may be certain, is not the cause; for the difference here between the philosopher and the Christian, is not a difference that re spects truth and error, but a reality and its counterfeit. Upon the princi ple itself, they may be said to meet each other half way; for though the grace of humility neither does nor cat exist in the mind of an unregenerate This last, therefore, of all the intel- philosopher, yet it is always counterlectual faculties, is the most impor- feited by him; though swelling with tant to mankind; not indeed in re- the pride of exalted talents, he affects

spect of genius, or depth of the reasoning faculty, but in respect of its being the point that connects present actions with eternal consequen

ces.

a modest humility, as if retiring from the applause of the world. Now philosopher as he is, had he only that principle existing in him in reality, which he pretends to have; there is creatures of God, on the same level; him from being a Christian; for the It thus places all mankind, as the nothing in the world that would keep demanding the same thing of them all, he would be in the state of a little namely, humility and docility, which child, sitting at the feet of a divine is as much as to say, that nothing but teacher, drinking in his instructions, their opposites, that is, pride and obsti- without any pretensions to the small

nacy, can disqualify any from having a part among this more glorious order of beings of the regeneration.

est superiority above others. To such a line of conduct would this last and highest faculty of our It was, therefore, a natural ques-intellect lead, were it only true and Ition which the disciples proposed, genuine; but, alas! this is what it is "Lord, are there few that shall be not, in consequence of the perversion. it for a rich man to enter into the pride and false glory; and disputes saved?" And again, "How hard is It therefore, on the contrary, leads to

kingdom of heaven?"-In answer to every principle, though

founded in

the nature of things, which gives the Creator a right over the creature; so that it comes ultimately to this, as a dictate both of scripture and reason, whether men will hear or forbear, "that they must be born again,”—“ that they must be converted, and become as little children," otherwise it is impossible they can enter into the kingdom of heaven.

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To conclude. To such a pitch of superiority does this method of treating the philosophy of the mind, raise the person who avails himself of it,that it is impossible for him to imitate the mere philosopher, who plods on in the path of nature's darkness, surrounded with his doubts and his difficulties, his obscurities, contradictions, and his dissatisfaction with his own system. It is, on the contrary, as a light shining in a dark place; making manifest objects which would never otherwise appear. It affords a firm and immoveable footing on which to rest; a basis which has existed from the very beginning, but has been woefully overlooked; and which can never be overturned by any future system whatever. For it is a system, which, of itself, bears characters of perfection; and explains all the phenomena of the human intellect as they exist in real life. It seems to be involved in no doubt; but dissipates all the doubts which hang over all other systems. Nor is it founded upon phantoms of the imagination, supported by a train of abstruse and subtle reasoning, which only pretended adepts can comprehend; but upon facts which must be apparent to all, and adapted to the meanest capacity. Nor does it, as all other systems do, regard man merely as a creature of this world, but as a being destined for a future state. To say all in one word, What is it that essentially concerns him, that it does not include, and account for, and urge upon him, by motives the most powerful that can be conceived? Instead of addressing him in the feeble language of, Thus saith this and the other philosopher,-its language is, Thus saith GOD, and thus saith NATURE, that things are and must be so and so; and that it is his bounden duty, and the highest interest of his being, to listen to what these infallible instructors say.

(To be continued.)

RELIGION IN DEMERARA.

THE following opinion entertained in Demerara, respecting the missions established among the negroes, is taken from the Guiana Chronicle or Demerara Gazette.

"We have had occasion repeatedly to express our opinion of the Sectarian Propagandists, who send forth their missionaries to our colonies out of pure zeal for the salvation of souls. In respect of their wild jargon, their capricious interpretations of the Bible, and the doctrines they inculcate, although in themselves they are to be despised and slighted, yet in point of the pernicious tendency they may have upon the minds of their hearers, we do think that no caution can be too great to be used against them, no diligence too strict.

"The influence they possess over the negroes is more widely ramified than would be readily believed. It is no longer proper to say they are insignificant. In the common acceptation of the word, they are truly so; but from their calling and canting, they have acquired a degree of importance in this colony, not attainable otherwise. Let them be looked after now more strictly than ever; and we pledge ourselves to do for them in proper colours, whenever we may be furnished with the authentic particulars of any immoral or illegal wanderings from the paths of their duty."

How frequently does wickedness defeat its own purposes! With all this tide of invective, the writer of the preceding paragraphs virtually declares, that the missionaries, against whom this venom is discharged, have not been charged with any immoral or illegal wanderings, because his threat to do for them, is suspended upon his making the discovery. Should this remark ever reach this Guiana Chronicler, we would ask-In what do the crimes of those men consist, who have not been guilty of any immoral or illegal wanderings?

ESSAYS MORAL AND LITERARY.

No. 4.-On Literary Pretenders. IT is to be regretted, that in every profession in which the intellect is concerned, there should exist so many

silly pretenders to knowledge which they do not possess, In the science of medicine, for instance, this fact is notorious; and the influence which unqualified men have upon society, is, in this art, always dangerous. The mere name of surgeon or physician is, with the majority, synonymous with knowledge, and acts as a passport for the power of working evil. Literature also has its pretenders, and it may be, perhaps, not an unamusing speculation to notice some of them, although the limits of this article will not permit many. I shall therefore instance a few of those that are the least objectionable, who, if they cannot perform any thing good, have not the power to do much harm.

The first, and certainly the most inoffensive of this class, is the dull retailer of tedious commonplace. He will scribble you over half-a-dozen pages upon any given subject, and think no more of it than he would of walking so many yards. While others rack their brains for a few sentences, he goes smoothly on, and is never delayed by an obstacle, for this plain reason, that he never meets with one. He delights to write pieces upon Love, Hope, Friendship, &c. and to think that they will be read by the learned and the wise. He is the most comfortable of all authors, for you cannot give him a subject but he will begin and finish it entirely to his own satisfaction. He will shew you his portfolio-it is filled with Sonnets to the Moon, with Elegies over dead Bulfinches, and with Songs to Julia, besides a goodly number of Essays, Sketches, and Fragments, all ready for publication the instant he requires them. He knows by heart all the most approved lines from the poets, and these he scatters so sweetly and profusely amongst his eloquent prose, that any one who does not instantly perceive their effect, must be dull indeed. You cannot quarrel with his ideas, for in reality there is nothing you ought to quarrel about ;-besides, he tells you all he knows, and it is a species of injustice in you to call for more. He gives you as much in four sentences as in four pages-he tells you that happiness is not misery, that virtue is not vice, and that the sole reason why a man does right, is simply because he does not do wrong. If he be an author by trade, and the world

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treat his essays as dull compositions, he nevertheless lowers not his good opinion of himself, and, as a salvo to his own sorrows, very truly concludes that mankind have not as yet sufficient penetration to discover his excellences You would be as likely to succeed in deterring him from going onwards, by telling him that what he writes wil never be read, as you would in convincing a certain foolish lord of his mistake, when he affirmed that Cowper was no poet.

The next I shall notice, is a sort ef literary quack, one who deals in all things in the heavens above, and in the earth beneath ;—a dabbler in poetry, politics, and religion, a kind of prating harlequin-an eternal arguer about subjects of which he really knows nothing, and one upon whose brain, as some one says, a ray of true reason never shines, but through a crack of the skull. He walks along the streets with pens and paper in his hand, and a proof sheet dangling out of his pocket ;—his name is puffed in newspapers, and on the covers of magazines; he thinks himself a man of genius, and expects others to do the same. This is a creature too, who, like the foolish bird which put feathers in its tail, has always charity enough to become sponsor for the thoughts of others. If he is a poet, he will feed upon all of that motley tribe who have gone before him;-if he has a church benefice, he will give his hearers a weekly portion of that "spiritual food" which Saurin or Blair have left; and if he be a regular maker up of books, he will gain admittance to the library in the British Museum, and, provided with all appliances and means to boot," will pocket the remains of half-a dozen authors. He holds up his head gaily, and goes on seizing upon all original thoughts, or new turns of expression, and hunts them down until the writers to whom they belong, as the only excuse for their staleness, are compelled to say, as Goldsmith did of his Essays, that they were new when he wrote them. He is the miserable counterpart of an echo.

A very different character, and one who perhaps ought not to be classed with literary pretenders, yet who is as useless to literature as the foregoing, is, the learned pedant. This man will tolerate no writer who is unacquainted

with Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. He skims over a work with ineffable disdain, that has not as much of a dead as a living language in it. His intellect is bedridden;-he knows nothing of the current. literature of the day, and you might as soon prove that two and two were five, as rouse him from his lethargy. If you tell him of the publication of a volume full of power and pathos, he will hear you out patiently, and then, with a soft complacent smile, answer, that it is very likely the author in question cannot decline a Latin verb. He draws the curtains of pride and ignorance around him, is invested in his learned garments, becomes indolent and stupid, and in this manner sits, like the immoveable Theseus, unconscious of surrounding things.

The really unlearned pedant, is a literary pretender of another stamp. He has a smattering of some of the languages, talks much, and understands a little, of Chemistry, Astronomy, &c. and reverses the maxim, 'Drink deep, or touch not the Pierian spring."

But after all, he carries the mark upon his forehead, and none will heed his fury but those who are as intemperate as himself. He may rave and thunder, but all the use it can serve will be

"To waft a feather, or to drown a fly."

He is like the description of Echo in Ovid's Metamorphoses, vox et præterea nihil. In favour of such a creature what can be said?—Nothing"Come then, expressive silence, muse his praise."

Having endeavoured to shew what are the pretensions of some men to literary honours, I shall now conclude by very briefly stating one or two qualifications, which, in my humble apprehension, a writer ought to possess. In the first place, he should be one who can think for himself. The generality are only mere authors, and mere readers; but as "books can never teach the use of books," so reading, solely for the sake of writing, is little more than lost time. man who can only parrot those who His pocket-book is filled with Latin have parroted others, is surely the sentences, with which he interlards object of either pity or contempt. Sehis prose; and he always brings a host condly, a writer should, for his readof quotations from acknowledged ge-ing, be able to select well those aunius, to back his own opinion. He is vanity personified.

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But the most insufferable of all
literary pretenders is, the frothy and
intemperate one.
This is a creature,
who, as Shakspeare says, "speaks an
infinite deal of nothing." He puts him-
self forwards, as much as to say,
"admire me first;" and then cries,
"he that hath ears to hear, let him
hear." He is the only being in the
world from whom you get nothing but
original nonsense, and in his own
estimation he sits "high throned above
all height."
He is fond of writing
long letters, full of " perilous stuff,"
smiles at the futility of all opposition,
and thinks how culpable he should be,
to put so much light under a bushel.
He struts about with his hands stuck
in his pockets, a simper on his lip,
- and thinks himself a “ Hannibal |
amongst the Alps." Should you dare
to contradict him, alas, alas, sooner
than meet with his resentment, it
were better, far better, in his own
opinion, that

"The op'ning earth your shame would hide,
Or ocean whelm you in its foaming tide."
No. 44.-Vol. IV.

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thors who are men of genius, from those who are merely men of talent, and should attend to the one for the possession of ideas, and to the other for ornamental improvement. Thirdly, he should ascertain as far as he can, for what particular branch of literature his genius is best fitted, and should closely study the writings of those great men who have preceded him in that department. It is of material consequence for a writer to know the temper of his own mind, whether to the grave or gay, since some of our best authors have, in many instances, manifestly mistaken their powers. He should, also, when he has ascer tained this, be careful in not pressing his success too far. For my own part, I could never bring myself to read more than once, either Young's Night Thoughts, or Hervey's Meditationsthere is doubtless great power in the former, and some little in the latter; but they appear to me to partake much of the fault just noticed. Lastly, a writer should be one, who can arrange his thoughts to the best advantage, who can discriminate be3 F

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