beings. "There is something," says an eloquent writer, positively agreeable to all men-to all, at least, whose nature is not most grovelling and base-in gaining knowledge for its own sake. When you see anything for the first time, you at once derive some gratification from the sight being new; your attention is awakened, and you desire to know more about it. If it is a piece of workmanship, as an instrument or machine of any kind, you wish to know how it is made, how it works, and of what use it is. If it is an animal, you desire to know where it comes from, how it lives, what are its dispositions, and, generally, its nature and habits.

"This desire is felt, too, without at all considering that the machine or the animal may ever be of the least use to yourself practically; for, in all probability, you may never see them again. But you feel a curiosity to learn all about them, because they are new and unknown to you. You accordingly make inquiries; you feel a gratification in getting answers to your questions, that is, in receiving information, and in knowing more-in being better informed than you were before. If you ever happen again to see the same instrument or animal, you find it agreeable to recollect having seen it before, and to think that you know something about it. If you see another instrument or animal, in some respects like, but differing in other particulars, you find it pleasing to compare them together, and to note in what they agree and in what they differ. Now, all this kind of gratification is of a pure and disinterested nature, and has no reference to any of the common purposes of life; yet it is a pleasure-an enjoyment. You are nothing the richer for it; you do not gratify your palate or any other bodily appetite; and yet it is so pleasing that you would give something out of your pocket to obtain it, and would forego some bodily enjoyment for its sake. The pleasure derived from science is exactly of the like nature, or rather it is the very same."*

This is a correct and forcible exposition of the pleasures attending the active exercise of our intellectual faculties. In the Introduction I have given several illustrations of the manner in which the external world is adapted to the mental faculties of Man, and of the extent to which it is calculated to maintain them in activity.

* "Objects, Advantages, and Pleasures of Science," p. 1.

Supposing the human faculties to have received their present constitution, two arrangements for their gratification may be fancied: 1st, Infusing into the intellectual powers, at birth, intuitive knowledge of every object which they are fitted ever to comprehend, and directing every propensity and sentiment, by an infallible instinct, to its best mode and degree of gratification; or, 2dly, Constituting the intellectual faculties as mere capacities for gaining knowledge by exercise and application, and surrounding them with objects bearing such relations towards them, that when these objects and relations are observed, appreciated, and properly applied, high gratification will be obtained-but when they are unobserved and neglected, the result will be uneasiness and pain; giving at the same time to each propensity and sentiment a wide field of action, comprehending both use and abuse-and leaving the intellect to direct each to its proper objects, and to regulate its degrees of indulgence. And the question occurs, Which of these modes would be the more conducive to enjoyment?

The general opinion will be in favour of the first; but the second appears to me to be preferable. If the first meal we had eaten had prevented the recurrence of hunger, it is obvious that all the pleasures of satisfying a healthy appetite would have been for ever at an end, and that this apparent bounty would have greatly abridged our enjoyment. In like manner, if (our faculties being constituted as at present) unerring desires had sprung from the propensities and sentiments, and intuitive knowledge had been given to the understanding, so that, when an hour old, we should have been, morally, as virtuous, and, intellectually, as wise as we could ever become, a great provision for the sustained activity of our faculties would have been wanting. When wealth is acquired, the miser is still unsatisfied; he grasps after more with increasing avidity. He is supposed to be irrational in doing so; but he obeys the law of his nature. His chief pleasure arises from the active state of his acquisitiveness, and only the pursuit and obtaining of new treasures can maintain that condition.

The same law is exemplified in the case of love of approbation. The enjoyment which it affords depends on its active state; hence, a necessity for new incense, and for mounting higher in the scale of ambition, is constantly felt by its victims. Napoleon in exile said, "Let us live upon the past;" but he found this impossible: his predominant

desires originated in self-esteem and love of approbation, and the past did not stimulate these faculties or maintain them in constant activity. In like manner, no musician, artist, poet, or philosopher, however extensive his attainments, would reckon himself happy if, while his faculties were still vigorous, he were told, "Now you must stop, and live upon the past." And the reason is still the same: the pursuit of new acquirements and the discovery of new fields of investigation excite and maintain the faculties in activity; and activity is enjoyment.

If these views be correct, the consequences of imbuing the mind, as it is at present constituted, with intuitive knowledge and instinctive direction would not be unquestionably beneficial. The limits of our experience and acquirements would be speedily reached; our first step would be our last. Everything would become old and familiar. Hope would have no object of expectation, cautiousness no object of fear, wonder no gratification in novelty: monotony, insipidity, and mental satiety would apparently be the lot of Man.

:

But creation, in its present form, is more wisely and benevolently adapted to our constitution. By the actual arrangement, numerous faculties are bestowed, and their objects are presented these objects are endowed with qualities fitted, when properly used, to benefit and delight us, and when misapplied, to injure and distress us; but we are left to find out their qualities by the exercise of our own powers. Provision is thus made for ceaseless activity of the mental faculties; and this activity constitutes delight. Wheat is produced by the earth, and is adapted to the nutrition of the body; but it may be rendered more grateful to the taste, more digestible to the stomach, and more stimulating to the nervous and muscular systems, by being stripped of its external skin, ground into flour, and baked. Now, when the Creator endowed wheat with its properties, and the human body with its qualities and functions, He pre-arranged all these relations.

In withholding intuitive knowledge of them, while bestowing faculties fitted to find them out; in rendering the exercise of these faculties agreeable, while leaving Man, in this condition, to act for himself-He appears to me to have conferred on him the highest boon. The earth produces also hemlock and foxglove, which, if taken in certain moderate quantities, exercise a healing effect, but if taken in

excess occasion death. Now, Man's observing faculties, when acting under the guidance of cautiousness and reflection, are fitted to learn their qualities; and he is left to discover these, or to suffer the consequences of neglect. Dr. Symonds, Physician to the Bristol Infirmary, writes as follows: "I am not fond of arguments from final causes; but can it be doubted that the various medicines we possess were, as such, a part of the plan of the universe, designed to have a relation to morbid states of living organisms, as much as esculent matters to healthy conditions?"* If so, it seems obvious that Man was left to discover them, for his own benefit, as a stimulus to his mental activity.

Water when heated becomes steam; steam expands with prodigious power; and this power, confined by metal and directed by intellect, is the propeller of the steam-engine, the most efficient† yet most humble servant of Man. All this was pre-arranged by the Deity, and Man's faculties were adapted to it; but he was left to observe and discover the qualities and relations of water for himself. The moment, however, we perceive that the Creator has made the exercise of the faculties agreeable, and has arranged the qualities and relations of matter so beneficially that when known and applied they carry a double reward to the discoverer the pleasure of mental exercise, and positive advantage from the results obtained-we must acknowledge that the duty of discovery has been benevolently imposed.

The knowing faculties observe merely the qualities of bodies, their phenomena, and their simpler relations. The reflecting faculties observe relations also, but of a higher order. The former, for example, discover that the soil is clay or gravel; that it is tough or friable; that it is dry or wet; that excess of water impedes vegetation; that in one season the crop is large, and in another deficient. The reflecting faculties take cognisance of the causes of these phenomena; and, aided by the knowing powers, they discover the means by which wet soil may be rendered dry, by which clay may be pulverised, light soil invigorated, and all of them made more productive; and also the relationship of particular soils to particular kinds of grain.

* "British and Foreign Medical Review," Oct., 1846; Vol. XXII., p. 561.

The practical applications of electricity were unknown when this was written.-ED.

Nations that exert their knowing faculties in observing the qualities of the soil, and their reflecting faculties in discovering its capabilities, and its relations to water, lime, manures, and the various species of grain, and who put forth their muscular and nervous energies in accordance with the dictates of these powers, receive a rich reward in an abundant supply of food, and a climate improved in salubrity, besides much positive enjoyment attending the exercise of the powers themselves.

On the other hand, those communities that neglect to use their mental faculties and their muscular and nervous powers are visited by ague, fever, rheumatism, and a variety of painful affections arising from damp air; they are stinted in food, and in wet seasons are brought to the very brink of starvation by serious failures of their crops. This suffering is a benevolent admonition from the Creator that they are neglecting a great duty, and omitting to enjoy a great pleasure; and it will cease as soon as, by obeying the Divine laws, they shall have fairly redeemed the blessings lost by their negligence.

The winds and waves appear, at first sight, to present insurmountable obstacles to our leaving the island or the continent on which we happen to be born, and to our holding intercourse with distant climes: but, by observing the relations of water to floating bodies, Man was enabled to construct a ship; by observing the influence of the wind on them, he discovered the use of sails. He has also found out the expansive quality of steam, and has traced its relations, until he has produced a machine that enables him to set the roaring tempest at defiance, and to reach the appointed haven, although its loudest and fiercest blasts oppose. All these capabilities were conferred on nature and on Man long before they were practically applied; but now that we have advanced so far in the career of discovery and improvement, we perceive the scheme of creation to be admirably adapted to support the mental faculties in habitual activity, and to reward us for the exercise of them.

In surveying external nature with this principle in view, we perceive in many qualities of physical objects indications of benevolent design, which otherwise would have been regarded as defects. The Creator obviously intended that Man should discover and use coal-gas in illuminating dwelling-houses; and yet it emits an abominable odour.