saps all its principles; and thus is it deluded and debased, without perceiving the steps of its own degeneracy.

"If an early love of truth were more assiduously cultivated in our common seminaries, there is little doubt but that it would prove a happy forerunner of reason, and plant in the mind an instinctive antipathy to vice, which in all its colours and descriptions is tinctured with falsehood and deceit.

"I am delighted," continued this gentleman, "with a little anecdote I heard a few days ago, in which the advantage of candour and sincerity is very neatly exemplified.

"A certain viceroy of Naples had the privilege, on a particular great holiday, to release from servitude a galley slave in the dominions of the king of Spain. The day was come, and the prince proceeded to the place where this pleasing right was to be exercised. Upon interrogating the different criminals touching their mal-practices, they all began to be very clamorous in their own exculpation; in short, from their own verdict, it appeared that there never was collected together a purer race of mortals. One only among the number hung his head, and preserved a melancholy silence. Upon the question's being put to him, he replied, "Alas! sir, I am not punished as much as I deserve, for I am indeed a most notorious sinner, and entirely unworthy of pardon or favour." "Is that the case," cried the prince, affecting a good deal of choler, "then send away this wicked fellow, that he may not corrupt those innocent persons."

As soon as Mr. Allworth had finished, Mr. Blunt took up the discourse, and added, as I thought, some very pertinent remarks, enlivened by a pleasant little story taken from the German of M. de Gellert,

professor of philosophy at Leipzig. "The son of an old farmer, by some chance or other, had travelled through several remote countries, and, as is not uncommon in such cases, returned home much richer in lies than in knowledge. A few days after his arrival, he accompanied his father (a sensible shrewd old fellow) to a market at some distance from the village. It happened that a mastiff-dog passed that way, which as soon as the stripling beheld, "Bless me! father," cried he, "this dog puts me in mind of one I saw in my travels, at least as large as the largest of our cart-horses.' "What you tell me," replies the father gravely, "astonishes me: but don't imagine that in this country we are wholly without prodigies; by and by we shall come to a bridge, which we shall be obliged to pass, and which is much more extraordinary than the dog of which you have been talking. They say it is the work of some witch. All I know of it is this, that there lies a stone in the middle of it, against which one is sure to stumble as one passes on, and break at least a leg, if it so happen that one has lied in the course of the day." The youth was a little startled at this strange account. "At what a rate you are walking, father!—but to return to this dog: how large did I say? as your largest horse? Nay, for that matter, I believe it might be saying a little too much; for I recollect it was but six months old:- but I would be upon oath that it was as big as a heifer." Here the story rested, till they were a mile or two advanced on their way. The young man was very far from being comfortable. The fatal bridge appears at a distance. "Hear me, my dear father: indeed the dog, of which I have been speaking, was very large, but perhaps not quite so large as a heifer; I am sure, however, it was

larger than a calf." At length they arrived at the foot of the bridge. The father passes on, without a word. The son stops short-"Ah! father," says he, "you cannot be such a simpleton as to believe that I have seen a dog of such a size; for since I needs must speak the truth, the dog I met in my travels was about as big as the dog we saw an hour or two ago.

N° 68. SATURDAY, AUGUST 31.

Ητοι κυκεων και αντεμπλοκη, και σκεδασμος· η ένωσις και ταξις και προνοια. Ει μεν εν τα προτερα, τι και επι θυμω εικαιω συγκρίματι και φυρμω τοιετῳ ενδιατρίβειν ; τι δε μοι και μελει αλλου τινος, η του όπως ποτε αια γινεσθαι ; τι δε και ταρασσομαι ; ήξει Jag επ' εμε ὁ σκεδασμος, ὁ τι αν ποιω· ει δε πατέρα εςι, σεβώ και ευπαθώ, και παῤῥω τω διοικεντι.

ΜΑΡΚ. ΑΝΤ. Β'. 5.

The universe is either a mere medley, jumble, or confused mixture, such as chance might be supposed to have produced: or it is a connected system of things, such as might have been expected at the hands of a wise Providence. If the former be true, why should we be anxious to prolong our stay in such a squalid and disorderly scene? Why should we give ourselves trouble about any thing further than the easiest mode of mixing with our mother earth? Why should we suffer our minds to be so disquieted, since, do what we will, we must at last all sink into the general confusion? But if the other side of the proposition be true, then do I reverence the great Ruler of all things, put my trust in him, and am full of courage.

AFTER all which has been urged in the foregoing papers on the proof afforded us from analogy, in defence of God's moral government of the world, it must be confessed, that it contains some facts which startle human reason, and to which analogy furnishes no specific answer; yet if the analogy of nature support the probability that the moral constitution of things is a scheme or system of government, as dis

tinguished from a number of single unconnected acts of distributive justice and goodness, and that it is a scheme imperfectly comprehended, it affords a general answer to such doubts as arise as to the equity of this moral constitution. We shall see enough to convince us that this is the case, if we look into the course and order of things in the natural world. Here we shall find that analogy (a moral government being supposed) justifies a conclusion, in the first place, that this government is a scheme or system; in the next, a scheme imperfectly comprehended.

In the great natural order of the world, we are all related together in a common bond of necessity and dependence. Under various circumstances and conditions are we all related together, nor know we where these relations end. No action, no event stands so single and unconnected, as not to be related to other actions, other events: nor are we safe in saying that there are not other relations beyond the limit of this present world. Every thing has future unknown consequences. Were we to trace any event as far as we could proceed, we should find that if such event were not connected with something still beyond it in nature, unknown to us, such event could not have been at all: nor can we give the whole account of any thing whatever, of all its causes, ends, and necessary adjuncts. The natural world, then, and the natural government of the world, being a scheme, and such an incomprehensible scheme, we are led in consequence to believe that the moral government is also a scheme, and a scheme that also baffles human inquiry and comprehension.

On a deeper consideration, it becomes probable that these schemes are but one in truth, and that the first is subservient to the second, as the vegetable world to the animal, as bodies to minds. We are