them must not offend the dictates or desires of any of the others. For example, suppose the domestic affections of a woman to be highly interested in someone, and strongly to desire an alliance with him, but that he is improvident and immoral, and altogether an object of whom the higher faculties, acting by themselves, cannot approve-then, if marriage take place, bitter days of repentance will necessarily follow, when the lower feelings will languish through satiety, and his qualities will give offence to the moral powers. If, on the other hand, the domestic affection be guided to an object pleasing to the higher sentiments, these themselves will be gratified; they will double the delights afforded by the inferior faculties, and will render the enjoyment permanent.

Her

The love of children is like that of the miser for his gold : an interest in the object, for the sake of the gratification which it affords, without desiring or distinguishing what is good for the object on its own account. This is recognised by Sir Walter Scott, in his character of Elspath: ardent, though selfish affection for her son, incapable of being qualified by a regard for the true interests of the unfortunate object of her attachment, resembled the instinctive fondness of the animal race for their offspring; and diving little further into futurity than one of the inferior creatures, she only felt that to be separated from Hamish was to die."

In Man, this faculty generally acts along with benevolence; and a disinterested desire for the happiness of the child mingles with, and elevates, its mere instinctive impulses but the sources of these affections are different, their degrees vary in different persons, and their ends also are dissimilar. This is exemplified every day by the conduct of mothers, who, although actuated by an intense love of their offspring, nevertheless spoil them by vicious indulgence, and render them miserable. If philoprogenitiveness were capable, singly, of desiring and perceiving the real welfare. of children, the treatment of them would, in all cases, be rational and beneficial, in proportion to the vigour and activity of this faculty; but the fact is otherwise.

The same observation applies to the affection proceeding from ADHESIVENESS. When this faculty acts alone, it desires, for its own satisfaction, a friend to be loved; but it

"The Highland Widow," chap. iv,

is not, from its own impulses, interested in the welfare of its object. It feels attached to him as a sheep does to its fellows of the flock; but if benevolence do not act along with it, it does nothing for the happiness of that friend. Both adhesiveness and philoprogenitiveness tend to excite benevolence towards their objects; when the former sentiment, however, is naturally very weak, the propensities cannot render it vividly active. The horse feels melancholy when his companion is removed; but the feeling appears to be simply one of uneasiness at the absence of an object which gratified his adhesiveness. His companion may have been led to a richer pasture or introduced to more agreeable society; yet this does not assuage the distress suffered by him at his removal: his tranquillity is restored only by time causing the activity of adhesiveness to subside, or by the substitution of another object on which it may expend itself.

In human nature, the effect of the faculty, when acting singly, is similar. If two persons, elevated in rank and possessed of affluence, have each adhesiveness, self-esteem, and love of approbation strong, with benevolence and conscientiousness moderate, it is obvious that while both are in prosperity they may really like each other's society, and feel a reciprocal attachment, because there will be mutual sympathy in their adhesiveness, and the self-esteem and love of approbation of each will be gratified by the rank and creditable circumstances of the other. But imagine one of them to fall into misfortune, and to cease to be an object gratifying to self-esteem and love of approbation; suppose that he becomes a poor friend instead of a rich and influential one: the harmony between their selfish faculties will be broken, and then adhesiveness in the one who remains rich will transfer its affection to another person who may at once gratify it, and supply agreeable sensations to self-esteem and love of approbation-to a genteel friend, in short, who will look well in the eye of the world.

Much of this conduct occurs in society, and the complaint is very ancient that the storms of adversity rend friendships asunder, as the wintry blasts strip from the tree the leaves that adorned it in summer; and in consequence many moral sentences have been pointed, and epigrams have been finely turned, on the selfishness and corruption of poor human nature. But such friendships are attachments founded on the lower feelings, which, by their constitution,

do not regard the welfare of others; and the desertion complained of is the natural result of the principles on which both parties acted during the gay hours of prosperity.

Sheridan, for example, possessed strong adhesiveness, self-esteem, and love of approbation, with little causality and moderate conscientiousness. He had individuality, secretiveness, and imitation, which gave him talents for observation and display. When these earned him a brilliant reputation, he was surrounded by friends, and he himself probably felt attachment in return. But he was. deficient in morality, and not disposed to love his friends with a true, disinterested, and honest regard. He abused their kindness, and when he sank into poverty and wretchedness, and ceased to be an honour to them, all who were constituted like himself deserted him. But the whole connection was founded on selfish principles: Sheridan honoured them, and they flattered Sheridan; and the abandonment was the natural consequence of the cessation of gratification of their selfish feelings. I shall by-and-by speak of the sources of a loftier and purer friendship, and its effects. Some of his intimates, who acted from adhesiveness combined with the higher feelings, remained attached to him through all his misfortunes.

COMBATIVENESS and DESTRUCTIVENESS also, when acting alone, or in combination with the other propensities, do not in their own nature seek the happiness of others. If aggression be committed against us, combativeness shows the front of opposition and repels the attack; destructiveness inflicts pain or injury, to make the aggressor desist, or it takes vengeance on him for the offence. Both feelings are obviously very different from benevolence. I do not say that in themselves they are bad; on the contrary, they are necessary, and, when legitimately employed, are highly useful; but still their first and instinctive object is the preservation of self.

SECRETIVENESS suppresses the display of feelings when improper to be manifested, and restrains the utterance of thoughts which ought to be concealed. It also gives the desire to find out secrets, in order to guard against hostile plots or designs. In itself, it does not desire, in any respect, the benefit of others.

The next faculty is ACQUISITIVENESS. It desires to possess property, is pleased with accumulating, and suffers uneasiness in being deprived of, its acquisitions; but its

object is not the happiness of others. Like all the other faculties, however, it is highly useful; for even benevolence cannot give away until acquisitiveness has gained. There are friendships, particularly among mercantile men, founded on adhesiveness and acquisitiveness, just as in fashionable life they are founded on adhesiveness and love of approbation. Two men fall into a course of dealing by which each reaps profit from transactions with the other: this leads to intimacy; adhesiveness mingles its influence, and a feeling of attachment is produced. The moment, however, that the acquisitiveness of the one suffers the least inroad from that of the other, and their interests clash, they are apt, if no higher principle unite them, to become bitter enemies.

While these fashionable and commercial friendships last, the parties may profess reciprocal esteem and regard, and when a rupture takes place, the one who is depressed or disobliged may recall these expressions, and charge the other with hypocrisy. In truth, however, they were not uttered in sincerity. From adhesiveness and gratified love of approbation or acquisitiveness, each probably has felt something which he fancied to be disinterested friendship; but if each would honestly probe his own conscience, he would be obliged to acknowledge that the whole basis of the connection was selfish, and that the result was what should be expected by every man who places his reliance for happiness chiefly on the lower feelings.

The sentiment of SELF-ESTEEM is, in its very essence and name, selfish: it is the love of ourselves and the esteem of ourselves par excellence.

LOVE OF APPROBATION, although many think otherwise, does not in itself desire the happiness of others. Its object is applause to ourselves, to be esteemed ourselves; and if it prompt us to do services to others, or to say agreeable things to them, this is not from love of them, but for the sake of obtaining the self-gratification afforded by their good opinion.

If we are acquainted with a person who has committed an error-who has done or said something that the public disapproves of, and which we see to be wrong-benevolence and conscientiousness would prompt us to lay before our friend the very head and front of his offending, and conjure him to forsake his error, and make amends; love of approbation, on the other hand, would simply desire to gain his applause by making ourselves agreeable to him, without

looking further. If ill-regulated, it would either render us averse to speak to him at all on the subject, lest he should be offended; or it would prompt us to extenuate his fault, to gloss it over, and to represent it either as a simple mistake or as extremely trivial. If we analyse the motive which prompts to this course, we shall find that it is neither love of our friend nor consideration for his welfare, but fear lest, by our presenting to him disagreeable truths, he should feel offended with us, and deprive us of the gratification afforded by his good opinion.

Another illustration may be given. A manufacturer in a country town, having acquired a considerable fortune by trade, applied part of it in building a princely mansion, which he furnished in the richest style of fashion. He invited his customers, near and distant, to visit him, and introduced them into an apartment that dazzled them with splendour. This excited their curiosity and wonder-which was precisely the effect he desired; he then led them over his whole suite of rooms, and displayed before them his grandeur and taste. In doing so, he affected to act as if he were conferring a gratification on them, and believed that he was filling their minds with an intense admiration of his greatness; but the real effect was very different. The motive of his conduct was not love of them, or regard for their happiness or welfare; it was not benevolence to others that prompted him to build the palace: it was not veneration; it was not conscientiousness. The fabric sprang from self-esteem and love of approbation, combined, no doubt, with considerable intellect and ideality. In leading his humble brethren in trade through the princely halls, over the costly carpets, and amid the gilded mirrors and rich array that everywhere met their eyes, he exulted in the consciousness of his own importance, and asked for their admiration, not as an expression of respect for any real benefit conferred upon them, but as the much-relished food of his own selfish vanity.

But what would be the effect of this display on those to whom it was made? To gain their esteem or affection, it would have been necessary to manifest towards them benevolence, respect, and justice; for to cause another to love us, we must make him the object of our moral sentiments, which have his good and happiness for their aim. Here, however, these were not the inspiring motives, and the want of them would be instinctively felt. The visitors who