THE INVISIBLE WORLD.

Now there is another part of charity, which is the basis and pillar of this, and that is the love of

scribed the sphere of intellectual exertion! I have spent my life in acquiring knowledge, but how little do I know! The farther I attempt to penetrate the secrets of nature, the more I am bewildered and benighted. Beyond a certain limit all is but confusion or conjecture: so that the advantage of the learned over the ignorant consists greatly in having ascer tained how little is to be known.

"It is true that I can measure the sun, and compute the distances of the planets; I can calculate their periodical movements; and even ascertain the laws by which they perform their sublime revolutions: but with regard to their construction, to the beings which inhabit them, of their condition and circumstances, whether natural or moral, what do I know more than the clown?

"Delighting to examine the economy of nature in our own world, I have analyzed the elements; and have given names to their component parts. And yet, should I not be as much at a loss to explain the burning of fire, or to account for the liquid quality of water, as the vulgar who use and enjoy them without thought or examination ?

"I remark that all bodies, unsupported, fall to the ground; and I am taught to account for this by the law of gravitation. But what have I gained here more than a term? Does it convey to my mind any idea of the nature of that mysterious and invisible chain, which draws all things to a common centre? I observed the effect, I give a name to the cause, but can I explain or comprehend it?

Pursuing the tract of the naturalist, I have learned to distinguish the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms; and to divide these into their distinct tribes and families:but can I tell, after all this toil, whence a single blade of grass derives its vitality? Could the most minute researches enable me to discover the exquisite pencil that paints

God, for whom we love our neighbour; for this I think charity, to love God for himself, and our neighbour for God. All that is truly amiable is God, or as it were a divided piece of him, that

and fringes the flower of the field?—have I ever detected the secret that gives their brilliant dye to the ruby and the emerald, or the art that enamels the delicate shell?

"I observe the sagacity of animals; I call it instinct, and speculate upon its various degrees of approximation to the reason of man. But, after all, I know as little of the cogitations of the brute as he does of mine. When I see a flight of birds overhead, performing their evolutions, or steering their course to some distant settlement, their signals and cries are as unintelligible to me as are the learned languages to the unlettered mechanic; I understand as little of their policy and laws as they do of Blackstone's Commentaries.

"But leaving the material creation, my thoughts have often ascended to loftier subjects, and indulged in metaphysical speculation. And here, while I easily perceive in myself the two distinct qualities of matter and mind, I am baffled in every attempt to comprehend their mutual dependence and mysterious connection. When my hand moves in obedience to my will, have I the most distant conception of the manner in which the volition is either communicated or understood? Thus in the exercise of one of the most simple and ordinary actions, I am perplexed and confounded, if I attempt to account for it.

Again how many years of my life were devoted to the acquisition of those languages, by the means of which I might explore the records of remote ages, and become familiar with the learning and literature of other times! and what have I gathered from these but the mortifying fact, that man has ever been struggling with his own impotence, and vainly endeavouring to overleap the bounds which limit his anxious inquiries?

"Alas! then, what have I gained by my laborious researches but a humiliating conviction of my weakness and ignorance? of how little has man, at his best estate, to

Nor is it

retains a reflex or shadow of himself. strange that we should place affection on that which is invisible; all that we truly love is thus ;

boast? what folly in him to glory in his contracted powers, or to value himself upon his imperfect acquisitions?"

"Well!" exclaimed a young lady, just returned from school, my education is at last finished: indeed it would be strange, if, after five years' hard application, any thing were left incomplete. Happily that is all over now; and I have nothing to do, but to exercise my various accomplish

ments.

"Let me see!—as to French, I am mistress of that, and speak it, if possible, with more fluency than English. Italian I can read with ease, and pronounce very well: as well at least, and better, than any of my friends; and that is all one need wish for in Italian. Music I have learned till I am perfectly sick of it. But, now that we have a grand piano, it will be delightful to play when we have company. I must still continue to practise a little ;-the only thing, I think, that I need now to improve myself in. And then there are my Italian songs! which every body allows I sing with taste, and as it is what so few people can pretend to, I am particularly glad that I can.

My drawings are universally admired; especially the shells and flowers; which are beautiful, certainly; besides this, I have a decided taste in all kinds of fancy ornaments. "And then my dancing and waltzing! in which our master himself owned that he could take me no further just the figure for it certainly; it would be unpardonable if I did not excel,

;

"As to common things, geography, and history, and poetry, and philosophy, thank my stars, I have got through them all! so that I may consider myself not only perfectly accomplished but also thoroughly well informed.

"Well, to be sure, how much have I fagged through; the only wonder is that one head can contain it all!"

J. T.

what we adore under affection of our senses deserves not the honour of so pure a title. Thus we adore virtue, though to the eyes of sense she be invisible. Thus that part of our noble friends that we love, is not that part that we embrace, but that insensible part that our arms cannot embrace. God being all goodness, can love nothing but himself; he loves us but for that part, which is as it were himself, and the traduction of his Holy Spirit. Let us call to assize the loves of our parents, the affection of our wives and children, and they are all dumb shows and dreams without reality, truth, or constancy.

IMMORTALITY.

MAN is a noble animal, splendid in ashes, pompous in the grave.

It is the heaviest stone that melancholy can throw at a man to tell him that he is at the end of his being.

Were the happiness of the next world as closely apprehended as the felicities of this, it were a martyrdom to live; and unto such as consider none hereafter, it must be more than death to die, which makes us amazed at their audacities that durst be nothing, and return to their chaos again.

To subsist in lasting monuments, to live in their production, to exist in their names and predicament of chimeras, was large satisfaction unto old expectations, and made one part of their Elysiums. But all this is nothing in the metaphysics of true

belief. To live indeed is to be again ourselves, which being not only a hope but an evidence in noble believers, 'tis all one to lie in St. Innocent's church-yard, as in the sands of Egypt; ready to be anything, in the ecstasy of being ever, and as content with six feet as the moles of Adrianus.*

HAPPINESS.

THAT wherein God himself is happy, the holy angels are happy, in whose defect the devils are unhappy that dare I call happiness whatsoever conduceth unto this, may with an easy metaphor deserve that name; whatsoever else the world terms happiness, is to me a story out of Pliny; an apparition or neat delusion, wherein there is no more of happiness than the name. Bless me in this life with but peace of my conscience, command of my affections, the love of thyself and my dearest friends: and I shall be happy enough to pity Cæsar. These are, O Lord, the humble desires of my most reasonable ambition, and all I dare call happiness on earth; wherein I set no rule or limit to thy hand or providence, dispose of me according to the wisdom of thy pleasure. Thy will be done though in my own undoing.

* Urn-Burial.