wonderful as that which fells the oak or raises the imperial tower; and that this mechanism is depending on ties and alliances of every order and beauty, all which unite and sympathize in the delight of being. The circulation of the blood, the nature of the heart, the acute jealousy and vigilance of the nerves, the respiratory action of the skin, the delicacy of touch, the luxury of taste, the godliness of sight—all manifest an irrepressible unity and action which no mere power of mind could regulate or exercise.
We are aware that some may regard the subject as desultory, and only approve of experimental evidence, as if the criterion of all truth were an alembic or air-pump.
How different with the philosopher! He can summon the principles of all sciences to his aid, and elaborate any result he desires. He has command over distance, number, space, time, things seen and unseen, and can use them to serve before him, and minister delights to his feasting soul. He knows that sense must one day be clogged and dull, and that it is but the perceptive power, mind being the retentive. We might illustrate this idea by saying:—"In vain should we attempt to walk the stream, till the chilling air has bound the current, and hardened the yielding surface;" so does the spirit in vain seek to rest in contemplation, until attributes of the mind have fixed the fluency of sense, and created elements for the support of higher exercises; or as the great poet of nature successfully expresses this idea in Richard the Second:—
KING RICHARD.
How soon my sorrow hath destroyed my face.
BOLINGBROKE.
The shadow of your sorrow hath
Destroyed the shadow of your face.
KING RICHARD.
'Tis very true; my grief lies all within;
