attention is divided between the object and his own mind; and frequently the former is valued only so far as it furnishes an occasion for experiments and observations on the latter. A similar effect is produced by the same studies on our sensibility to the various sources of agreeable emotion, more particularly in matters of taste. By withdrawing our attention from the pleasures we experience, and directing it to an investigation or analysis of their sources, they have a tendency to dispel the enchantment upon which, in numberless instances, the pleasing effect depends. The beauties of art, and sometimes even those of nature, vanish before the eye of the microscopical observer; or at least are to be relished only in full perfection, when we yield ourselves up to the gratifications which they offer. It is, accordingly, in the thoughtless period of youth alone, that they fill the soul with rapture, and warm it into enthusiasm. We feel a delightful wonder at the new world which is opening to our senses, and at the untried capacities of the Human Mind; but are too much engrossed with the pleasures we enjoy, to think of tracing their efficient or their final causes. Our situation resembles that of the heroes of romance, when they find themselves surrounded with beautiful scenes which have been called into existence by the power of magic, and are ravished with celestial music without being able to perceive the musician.1 The following are the remarks of the Abbé Morellet on the impressions which he received on his first arrival at Rome, from the masterpieces of painting and statuary with which that capital abounds. As he was from his youth passionately addicted to metaphysical pursuits, and eminently distinguished. by habits of deep reflection, his testimony on this subject is of peculiar value. "Je dois dire à ma honte, que l'impression que je recevais de ces chefsd'œuvres des arts était faible en comparaison de celle que je voyais en quelques véritables amateurs et dans les artistes. D'abord ma vue est un peu courte, ce qui est un désavantage immense; mais ensuite je suis fort incliné à croire que l'habitude de penser un peu profondément, d'occuper au dédans toutes les facultés de son âme, de se concentrer pour ainsi dire en soi, est, jusqu'à un certain point, ennemie ou exclusive de la sensibilité que demandent les Arts du dessein. Difficilement un Métaphysicien sera-t-il un habile Artiste, ou un habile Artiste un bon Métaphysicien. Celui-ci est un homme intérieur qui ne voit qu'en lui même, qui a, si j'ose ainsi parler, les yeux tournés en dédans; l'artiste et l'amateur sont, au contraire, tout yeux, et tout oreilles, leur âme se While metaphysical studies, however, contract in this way the sphere of our enjoyment, they enlarge it in another by the pleasures arising from the exercise of the understanding, and from the gratification of the curiosity. Whether the compensation be complete or not, I shall not at present inquire;1 as my object is, not to compare the advantages and disadvantages of different literary pursuits, but to remark their general effect in modifying the principles of our nature, as intellectual, active, and sensitive beings. Whatever opinion we may form on this speculative question, one thing seems to be equally indisputable, that if the pleasures of Imagination, when uncontrolled by the exercise of the reasoning faculty, affect the mind with the most exquisite delight, it is only by combining the pleasures arising from both parts of our frame, that the duration of the former can be prolonged beyond the short period of youth; or that they can be enjoyed even then, for any length of time, without ending in languor and satiety. The activity which always accompanies the exercise of our reasoning powers, seems, in truth, to be essentially necessary to enliven the comparatively indolent state of mind which the pleasures of Imagination and of Taste have a tendency to encourage. Such a combination, too, will be found the most effectual, perhaps the only expedient, for preserving the powers of Imagination and Fancy in full vigour to the close of life; while, on the other hand, without the stimulus which these powers apply to our active propensities, Reasoning and Invention would have scarcely any motive to animate their exertions, after the period when the stronger passions have spent their force. The field in which the powers of the Metaphysician appear to greatest advantage, is in general and comprehensive views of Science, and of Human affairs; such views as Leibnitz ascribes to Bacon and Campanella in the following passage:1"Some men, in conducting operations where an attention to minutiæ is requisite, discover a mind vigorous, subtile, and versatile, and seem to be equal to any undertaking how arduous soever. But when they are called upon to act on a greater scale, they hesitate, and are lost in their own meditations; distrustful of their judgment, and conscious of their incompetency to the scene in which they are placed; men, in a word, possessed of a genius rather acute than comprehensive. A similar difference may be traced among authors. What can be more acute than Descartes in physics, or than Hobbes in morals! And yet, if the one be compared with Bacon, and the other with Campanella, the former writers seem to grovel upon the earth, the latter to soar to the heavens, by the vastness of their conceptions, their plans, and their enterprises; and to aim at objects beyond the reach of the human powers. The former, accordingly, are best fitted for delivering the first elements of knowledge, the latter for establishing conclusions of important and general application." This tendency to abstraction and generalization commonly grows upon us as we advance in life; partly from our own growing impatience in the study of particulars, and partly from the inaptitude of our declining faculties to embrace with accuracy a multiplicity of minute details. Hence, the mind is led to experience an increasing delight in those vantage-grounds which afford it an enlarged survey of its favourite objects. The 1 How Leibnitz was led to unite these two names, it is not easy to imagine. [The passage which is freely translated, will be found in Dutens' edition of the Opera Leibnitii, vol. vi. P. i. p. 303.-Ed] flattened eye which can no longer examine the microscopical beauties of an insect's wing, may yet enjoy the variegated tints of an autumnal wood, or wander over the magnificence of an Alpine prospect. Is it not owing to this, among other causes, that time appears to pass more swiftly the longer we live? As the events we contemplate swell in magnitude and importance, (the attention being daily less engrossed with individuals, and more with communities and nations,) the scene must, of course, shift more slowly, and the plot advance more leisurely to its accomplishment. Hence that small portion of our thread which remains unspun, appears to bear a less and less proportion to the space likely to be occupied by the transactions in which we are interested. Franklin, towards the close of life, complained repeatedly in my hearing, that time passed much more rapidly in his old age than when he was young. "The year," he said, "is no sooner begun than it is ended;"-adding, with his usual good humour, "I am sometimes tempted to think they do not give us so good measure now as formerly." Whoever compares the latter part of this great man's history with his first outset, will not think this change in his estimate of time very wonderful. The feelings which Franklin experienced when an old man, in consequence of the accidental circumstances of his history, are the natural effects of the habits of thinking which the philosopher loves to indulge. In consequence of these habits, he feels every day more and more as a citizen of the world; and, associating himself with the inhabitants of the most remote regions, takes a deeper interest in the universal drama of human affairs. And if, in consequence of this, his years should appear to pass over his head more swiftly, it must be remembered that, after a certain period of life, this ceases to be a misfortune. Franklin himself, while he affected to hold a different language, plainly considered the matter in this light; and, indeed, could not have given a stronger proof of the happiness of his old age, than by the complaints he made of the rapid flight of time. It is only when our prospects accord with our wishes, that we are liable to the influence of this illusion. The intellectual habits of the Mathematician are, in some respects, the same with those we have been now considering; but, in other respects, they differ widely. Both are favourable to the improvement of the power of attention; but not in the same manner, nor in the same degree. Those of the metaphysician give a capacity of fixing the attention on the subjects of our consciousness, without being distracted by things external; but they afford little or no exercise to that species of attention which enables us to follow long processes of reasoning, and to keep in view all the various steps. of an investigation till we arrive at the conclusion. In mathematics, such processes are much longer than in any other science; and hence the study of it is peculiarly calculated to strengthen the power of steady and concatenated thinking,-a power which, in all the pursuits of life, whether speculative or active, is one of the most valuable endowments we can possess. This command of attention, however, it may be proper to add, is to be acquired, not by the practice of the modern methods, but by the study of the Greek geometry; more particularly, by accustoming ourselves to pursue long trains of demonstration, without availing ourselves of the aid of any sensible diagrams; the thoughts being directed solely to those ideal delineations. which the powers of conception and of memory enable us to form.1 The following remark of Descartes on a peculiarity in the intellectual character of mathematicians has, at first view, very much the air of a paradox; and yet, from the great eminence of the author, both in mathematics and metaphysics, everything that falls from his pen on such a subject is well entitled to a careful examination. His words, literally interpreted, seem to imply, that Imagination is a faculty which mathematical studies tend, in an extraordinary degree, to exercise and cultivate, and that it is owing to this that mathematicians seldom succeed in metaphysical reasonings; whereas the obvious and indisputable fact is, that of all the departments of human knowledge, mathematics is that in which imagination is least concerned. "Admodum difficile est, uti scribis, Analystarum vestrorum opiniones de existentia Dei, deque honore illi exhibendo, corrigere, non quod desint satis validæ rationes quibus con |