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beauty, the heart and the affections of him that was made in the image of the Omnipotent, remain in keeping with all that is around.

We hate the traveller who visits any land of lofty associations, and sees in it nought but what is dark and grovelling; and, above all, we hate him whose jaundiced eye, as it wanders over the "Edens of the eastern wave," lights only on weeds and rubbish. Never shall we believe that the barrenness is in them, bursting into beauty as they at this moment are under the breath of approaching spring, but in his own deadened perception and unintellectual soul. Little superior can he be to the base-born Cockney, who dared to profane the crumbling columns of the ruined Temple on Sunium that look forth from their lofty solitude on the blue hills of Attica, and the purple billows of the "island-gemmed Egean," by inscribing in conspicuous characters, on one of the pillars, the highly classical sentence-" Buy Warren's Blacking." This man ought to have brushed shoes for the rest of his life. How different are the feelings excited by an anecdote recorded by a French author, of the inhabitants of Santorin, one of the Cyclades,"une demeure que est regardée par les Santorinois comme le paradis de la terre, et ils n'ont point de plus forte imprecation à faire contre un homme du pais, que de lui dire, Va, malheureux, puisse tu mourir hors de

Santorin !'"

A SCENE DURING THE MASSACRE AT SCIO.

"It was on the evening of the third day from the arrival of the Turkish Admiral, that the family of the flames that rose from the burning mansions of their wretched being who lived to tell the tale, descried the friends, and heard, in the calm silence of twilight, the

distant death-scream of their butchered townsmen, whilst
murderers, told them but too truly of their impending
a few flying wretches, closely pursued by their infuriate
fate. As one of the most important in the valley, their
family was amongst the first marked out for murder,
and ere they had a moment to think of precaution, a
ed but few resources for refuge or concealment,
party of Turkish soldiers beset the house, which afford-
Phrosine was an involuntary witness to the murder of
"From a place of imperfect security, the distracted
dignity suggested by brutality and crime, whilst her
her miserable sisters, aggravated by every insult and in
frantic mother was stabbed upon the lifeless corpses of
her violated offspring. Satiated with plunder, the mon-
sters left the house in search of farther victims, whilst
of her butchered parent, and fly for refuge to the moun-
she crept from her hiding-place to take a last farewell
tains. She had scarcely dropt a tear over the immo
lated remains of all that was dear to her, and made a
step towards the door, when she perceived a fresh party
her place of refuge, death, with all its aggravated hor-
of demons already at the threshold. Too late to regain
rors, seemed now inevitable, till on the moment she ad-
opted an expedient. She flew towards the heap of slaugh-
ter, smeared herself with the still oozing blood of her
mother, and falling on her face beside her, she lay mo-

tionless as death.

We are glad to perceive that Mr Emerson seems to be inspired with the proper feelings which his subject should excite. He is already favourably known to the public as a Philhellenian, by the interesting work which appeared a year or two ago, entitled "A Picture of Greece in 1825, as exhibited in the narratives of James Emerson, Esq., Count Pecchio, and W. H. Humphreys, Esq." The object of that work was not so much picturesque as political, whereas the present aims principally at presenting a series of characteristic sketches of manners and society; and instead of being confined, as the former was, almost exclusively to the Morea and Roumelia, it embraces a considerable portion of Asia Minor, and almost all the Cyclades. Mr Emerson's style is at once lively and graphic; and without attempting to be very profound, he is always pleasing, and often instructive. He writes, too, in a pleasant manly manner, as if his heart were in his subject, and he despises, consequently, all the fopperies of affecta-slicing off the flesh from the finger. This was the last tion. We are disposed to think he now and then heightens an anecdote a little by one or two slight touches of his own; but this is a fault we can easily forgive, in matters where minute accuracy is not absolutely necessary, and committed, as it is, not with a desire to alter the general effect, but to make it more vivid. We have, in short, perused the whole of the two volumes with very considerable gratification, and hope, by a few extracts, to enable our readers to share in that gratification.

"The Turks entered the apartment, but, finding their errand anticipated, were again departing, when one of them, perceiving a brilliant sparkling on the finger of He lifted the appaPhrosine, returned to secure it. rently lifeless hand, and attempted to draw it off; it had, however, been too dearly worn; it was the gift of her affianced husband, and had tarried till it was now only to be withdrawn by an effort. The Turk, how. delicate hand in every direction to accomplish his purever, made but quick work: after in vain twisting her pose, he drew a knife from his girdle and commenced

Mr Emerson sailed, in a delightful season of the year, from Cape Colonna in Attica, and touching at the islands of Zea, Cythnos, Syra, and Scio, arrived, after a pleasant voyage, at Smyrna. One of his fellow-passengers was a young Greek lady of the name of Phrosine, a native of Scio, whose melancholy story added another to the long list of atrocities perpetrated in that island by the Turks in 1823. As the vessel passed Scio, she sat all day upon the deck, watching with wistful eyes the shores of her native island, and straining to recognise some scene that had once been familiar, or perhaps some now-deserted home, that had once been the shelter of her friends. Mr Emerson afterwards learned the particulars of her story, and they were of a very peculiar and touching kind:

M. Robert, "Histoire des Ducs de l'Archipelago."

awoke from the swoon into which her agony and her scene she could remember. It was midnight when she effort to conceal it had thrown her; when she lay cold and benumbed, surrounded by the clotted streams of her last loved friends.

66

left for consideration, and day would soon be breaking. Necessity now armed her with energy; no time was She rose, and, still faint with terror and the loss of blood, flew to a spot where the valuables of the house had been secured; disposing of the most portable about her person, she took her way to the mountains. She pointed and the distant track by which she had gained it, through out to us the cliff where she had long lain concealed, a path at every step impeded by the dead or dying remains of her fellow-countrymen."-Vol. I. p. 22—5.

Two chapters are devoted to Smyrna, and anecdotes illustrative of the manners and customs of its inhabitants. The Greek part of the population is kept in entire subjection by the Turks; but though a favourer of the former, our author does not allow himself to be betrayed into unjustifiable prejudices against the latter, of whom he thus speaks :

THE PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF THE TURKS.

"Taken, en masse, the Turks are the finest looking race of men in the world. Their oval heads, arching brows, jetty eyes, and aquiline noses, their lofty figures, and stately mien, are all set off to full advantage by their ample robes and graceful turbans; all is ease and

proportion about a Turk; there are no angles or straight lines in his features or person: in all we find the pure curve of manly beauty and majestic grace.

6

"It is inconceivable what a miserable figure an Englishman or an European makes beside him. His black unmeaning hat, harlequin pantaloons, and hard-collared, straight-cut coat, (which will one day puzzle those of posterity who shall be antiquaries in costume,) contrast so villainously with the picturesque head-dress, ample trowsers, and floating pelisse of the Ottoman; whilst his glossy beard flings contempt on the effeminate chin of the clipped and docked European. His arms, for in the East, all arm,' usually consist of a pair of superbly chased pistols, stuck in the silken sash; a yataghan, with a jewelled handle; a larger and more clumsy knife, called a hanger, and a scymitar swinging in a scabbard, covered with green or crimson velvet, (as the owner, being an Emir, or otherwise, is entitled to carry it,) and ornamented with bosses of gold. The latter is, in general, the most important and valuable portion of his arms, or even of his property. I have seen some blades which were valued at 200 or 300 dollars; many are said to be worth triple that sum ; and all retain the name of Damascus, though it is by no means likely that they have been manufactured there. The twisting and intermingling of the fibres of the metal are considered as the tests of excellence; but I have never seen any possessed of the perfume said to be incorporated with the steel in the real Damascus sabres."-Vol. I. p. 85-6. From Smyrna, Mr Emerson travelled by land to Ephesus, Laodicea, and Sardis, and thence back to Smyrna. He had thus an opportunity of forming pretty accurate notions regarding the present state of Asia Minor. The following short extract supplies some information upon this interesting subject:

STATE OF TRAVELLING IN ASIA MINOR.

"There are few spots of earth, visited by the traveller, calculated to excite emotions more melancholy than those experienced by such as have passed over even the most frequented portions of Asia Minor. Except in the immediate vicinity of its cities, he encounters few traces of life or civilisation; all beyond is barren and unprofitable; his path lies across plains tenanted by the stork and the jackal; or over hills, whence the eye wanders along valleys, blooming in all the luxuriance of neglected nature, or withering in loneliness and sterility. Throughout lands, once adorned with the brightest efforts of genius and of art, and rife with the bustle and activity of a crowded population, his footstep will light upon nothing save the speaking monuments of decay, and his eye meet no living forms except those of his companions, or, by chance, a dim prospect of the weary caravan, that creeps like a centipede across the plain, or winds amidst the mazes of distant hills.

There is also good descriptive writing, and much sound feeling, in the following passage:

MOONLIGHT NEAR SARDIS.

"It would be vain to attempt a description of the splendid scenery of Oriental moonlight. The sky is not, as with us, an ebon concave, gemmed with brilliants, but one calm expanse of saddened blue, so soft that it seems to blend with the outline of the silvery moon, and so bright as to form a scarcely distinguished contrast with the twinkling stars. Every object was as distinct as in a northern twilight: the snowy summit of the mountain, the long sweep of the valley, and the flashing current of the river. I strolled along towards the banks of the Pactolus, and scated myself by the side of the half

exhausted stream.

"There are few individuals who cannot trace on the map of their memory some moments of overpowering emotion, and some scene which once dwelt upon has become its own painter, and left behind it a memorial which time could not efface. I can readily sympathize with the feelings of him who wept at the base of the Pyramids; nor were my own less powerful on that night when I sat beneath the sky of Asia, to gaze upon the ruins of Sardis, from the banks of the golden-sanded Pactolus. Beside me were the cliffs of that Acropolis which, centuries before, the hardy Midian scaled whilst leading on the conquering Persians, whose tents had covered the very spot on which I was reclining. Before me were the vestiges of what had been the palace of the gorgeous Croesus: within its walls were once congregated the wisest of mankind, Thales, Cleobulus, and Solon: it was here that the wretched father mourned alone the mangled corse of his beloved Atys; and it was here that the same humiliated monarch wept at the feet of the Persian boy who wrung from him his kingdom. Far in the distance were the gigantic tumuli of the Lydian monarchs, Candaules, and Halyattys, and Gyges; and around them spread those very plains once trodden by the countless hosts of Xerxes, when hurrying on to find a sepulchre at Marathon.

"There were more varied and more vivid remembrances associated with the sight of Sardis than could possibly be attached to any other spot of earth; but all were mingled with a feeling of disgust at the littleness of glory-all, all had passed away! There were before me the fanes of a dead religion, the tombs of forgotten monarchs, and the palm-tree that waved in the banquet. hall of kings; whilst the feeling of desolation was doubly heightened by the calm sweet sky above me, which, in its unfading brightness, shone as purely now as when it beamed upon the golden dreams of Croesus."-Vol. I. p. 205—8.

On his return to Smyrna, our author set off on a cruise through the Archipelago, in the course of which he visited all the principal islands, and in the work before us he has detailed a number of minute and inteWe can afford resting particulars concerning each. room for only one other quotation, which describes

GENERAL ASPECT OF THE CYCLADES.

There are few scattered hamlets, and no straggling abodes of mankind; danger and apprehension have forced the remnant of its inhabitants to herd together in towns for mutual security, and to leave the deserted country to the bandit and the beast of prey. The wandering passenger pursues his listless route, surrounded by privations and difficulties, by fatigue and apprehen"The appearance of almost all the Cyclades, on first sion, few beaten tracks to guide his course, and few hos- approaching them, is exceedingly similar; they all prepitable mansions to shelter his weariness. By night he sent the same rude porous rocks, brown cliffs, and verrests beside his camel in the karavan-serai, and by day dureless acclivities, whose uniformity is scarcely broken he hurries along with no comforts save those which he by a single tree, and whose loneliness is seldom enli. carries with him, and no companions but his thoughts. vened by a village or a human habitation. But these are sufficient, and they spring up with every rents of the tideless sea glide wavelessly around their breath, and at every turning his very loneliness is sub-shores, and the rays of the unclouded sun beam fiercely limity; his only prospect beauty; he reclines upon down on their unsheltered hills, earth, whose every clod is a sepulchre of greatness, and he is canopied by a sky

So cloudless, pure, and beautiful,
That God alone is to be seen in Heaven."
P. 143-5.

'Dimm'd with a haze of light.'

The cur

"On landing, however, every islet presents a different aspect, and every secluded hamlet a new picture of life, of manners, of costume, and, not unfrequently, of

language. The soil of one is rich, and luxurious, and verdant; that of a second, only a few miles distant, is dry, scorched, and volcanic; the harbour of another is filled with the little trading craft of all the surrounding ports; its quays rife with the hum and hurry of comand its coffee-houses crowded with the varied inhabitants of a hundred trading marts; whilst a fourth, of equal capabilities, and barely an hour's sail beyond it, will be as quiet and noiseless as a city of the plague; its shores unvisited, its streets untrodden, and its fields untilled.

merce,

"But such is the result of that tenacity to ancient usages, and that predilection for the pursuits, the habits, and the tastes of their forefathers, which vindicates for the countries of Asia the title of the unchanging East.' From age to age, the natives of these secluded spots have continued to preserve those customs and those manners, whose antiquity is now their greatest charm, and which long association has rendered it almost sacrilegious to alter or abandon; whilst far removed from any later models with which to contrast them, contentment and custom have long since neutralized both their awkwardness and inconvenience.'-Vol II., p. 229—31.

A portion of this work has already appeared in the New Monthly Magazine, under the title of "Letters from the Levant," but we are glad the author has published them in their present extended and improved

form.

Sermons on various Important Subjects. By the late Rev. Archibald Gracie. Edinburgh. Adam Black. 1829.

There seems to be little, then, in the objection made to almost every new volume of sermons, that it adds nothing to the treasures of theological learning, that it contains no profound views, that it is not enriched with any great splendour of style or illustration. If sermons were ever, or often, read for a different end from that which brings us to hear them; if, instead of being read aloud in families, or taken up to assist our meditations on what is good and profitable, on that day when we are most disposed to let our thoughts flow in the easy and level channel of established truth, without being distracted with what is debateable, or roughly shaken with what is strange and empirical,-if, instead of being thus referred to, it were usual to have recourse to them as food for study, or treasures of Scripture criticism, or models of various style, there might be something in the complaint so perpetually and piteously made of the poverty and mediocrity of published sermons. The sermon has its own province ;-commentaries, and disquisitions, and religious fancy-pieces, have theirs. Ought Warburton to have preached his Divine Legation of Moses, or MacKnight his Harmony, or even Hervey his Meditations? Would these works have been endured as sermons, either from the pulpit or the press? And, in point of fact, is not and Barrow to the learned, and to instruct his congregathe head of a family often constrained to leave Tillotson tion at the fire-side out of plainer and less profound

divines?

Let us not be mistaken, however, for admirers or apologists of poorly executed sermons. It is not enough that publications of this class should be harmless, or even serious, and tamely instructive. In the exercise of our proper function as critics, we shall always demand spirit and force, if not novelty of illustration, in the treatment of sacred truths, and at least clearness and accuracy of composition. What we censure is, the appetite for what is novel and exciting, that induces many to throw aside sermons, by which they may be well and

what we venture to patronize, as a gift never out of season, is a volume in which divine truth is set forth in a chaste and natural style, enforced with earnestness, and applied with propriety and faithfulness.

THESE Sermons have no pretensions to originality, or to eloquence of a very high order; but they are, for the most part, very pleasingly written, and full of rational and impressive views of Divine truth. They are re-soundly, nay, agreeably instructed, with contempt; and markable for simplicity and clearness of arrangement, a great excellence in every sort of didactic composition, but particularly desirable in sermons, of which every reader and hearer should be enabled to carry away as much as possible, without that effort of attention and To such of our readers as can satisfy themselves with understanding, which is in the power of not a great this standard, we can honestly recommend the volume many, and in the inclination of a very few. Though before us. It contains six-and-twenty sermons, of which for the most part on practical subjects, they are alto- the fourth, on "Redeeming the Time," the ninth, engether free from the dryness and coldness, for which titled the "Grave of Christ," and the tenth, on the many very reputable sermons on the same plan are, with "Causes of Grief to the Good," are, in our opinion, pegreat justice, censured. They are almost always ani- culiarly excellent. We have had some difficulty in semated and vigorous, at the same time that they are sel-lecting for our readers a short, and, at the same time, dom found to transgress the rules of a correct taste. We add one recommendation more, they are reasonably short.

sufficiently characteristic specimen of the author's manner; we should have had much less, if our only care had been to find what is good.

The following, we think, will serve our purpose. It is extracted from the fifteenth sermon.

We do not know, after all, that sermons can well receive a higher degree of legitimate praise, than we are disposed to bestow on this modest volume. A sermon ON THE FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. is not, we think, the most appropriate vehicle for theological discussion, of a very deep or elaborate character; "Consider yourselves in the last judgment, standing it is, confessedly, an improper one for bold theories and before the throne of the Saviour, in the midst of an asspeculations; and, in the opinion of many, the time of sembled world-covered with sins which require the fora Christian audience is unprofitably taken up with giveness of your judge, while near you stands one, who flourishing declamation and ambitious rhetoric. If a never received yours, whom you persecuted through life plain, and sensible, and well-composed discourse, is with unrelenting perseverance, and whose last struggle generally thought most appropriate to the pulpit, we did not terminate your disposition to revenge. Think cannot, we confess, see why a printed sermon should of the confusion and dread you must feel, when you benot be valued as much for these very qualities. Ser- hold him looking upon you with pity, when he examines mons are most usually read, to fill up those portions of with inquiring eyes if your condemnation be written in the Sabbath, and other days set apart for religious pur- the face of your judge, and then passes by you into the poses, which are not spent in church, or in employments joys of his Lord. It is an awful pause while your doom proper to the time;-why then should we be more re- remains undecided. It is a terrifying thought to deluctant to accept of the plain words of truth and so- pend for a decision in your favour upon that very prinberness," as a help to meditation, or as instructive les-ciple which you despised in your conduct, you shall sons to our families at home, than in the house of have judgment without mercy, if you have showed no God? mercy!'

captandum vulgus, and what follows is often still more indecently violent. The work, in short, so far from attempting to soothe or conciliate, to soften or improve, an attempt which, in our estimation, the temper of the times seems particularly to require, is calculated only to add moroseness to bigotry, and to blow into a flame all the scattered embers of polemical division and hatred.

"Look now around you and behold, employ your senses and your memory-if there be any in this assembly, whom you would not forgive-any, whose interest you would oppose-whose character you would vilify, and in whose sufferings you would take delight and then consider the enormity of your guilt! You have entered the temple of God, to join in prayer with those whose doom you would pronounce. You have approached the altar of mercy with a purpose of revenge. You have placed upon it a heart filled with malignity. Pray Edmund O'Hara, an Irish Tale. By the Author of not to-day, I beseech you, for your enemies for it is hypocrisy. Pray not for yourselves, for it is in vain. As the minister of Christ and of righteousness, my commission of mercy is as little to you as to that malignant spirit, whose hatred of God, and of his righteous offspring, occasioned the apostacy and ruin of our race.". Pp. 249-50-51.

This is a posthumous volume; but it is only just to add, that this circumstance does not require to be intimated, in order to soften or deprecate verbal criticism; we have detected very few inaccuracies of style.

The Spirit of the Church of Rome; its Frinciples and Practices, as exhibited in History. By a Layman of the Catholic Church of Christ. Edinburgh. Waugh and Innes. 1829.

WE approve neither of the matter contained in this volume, nor of the spirit in which it is written. We do not see what good it can do to pander to the ignorant prejudices of the multitude, and to set one body of Christians in obstinate opposition to another, by raking up all the exploded and often exaggerated stories of Popish overbearance and cruelty, which are, in many instances, to be attributed more to the darkness of an earlier age, than to the inherent nature of the religion under whose cloak they were committed. A temperate, judicious, and sound exposition of the errors of the Roman Catholic faith, we shall be always happy to listen to. But it is contrary to reason and sound philosophy, and most especially contrary to Christianity, to present to Protestants nothing but the dark side of Popery, blackened still more by the breath of defamation, and hold it up, not only as a rock they ought to shun, but as a gibbetted carcass which they ought to hate, despise, and utterly contemn. We yield to none in our respect for the reformed church of our native land; but we look upon toleration, humility, and forbearance, as three of the noblest doctrines it inculcates. We hold it superior to all other churches; but never shall we believe that the faith so piously held by thousands of sincere Christians in France, and Spain, and Italy, is a mere string upon which to tie an endless series of atrocities, massacres, persecutions, tortures, and all ungodly practices. We do not believe in transubstantiation,—we smile at the Pope's infallibility, we dislike auricular confessions; but we would not, therefore, recommend the fagot to root out "a church so pestilential, erroneous, and blasphemous." The inflammatory nature of the book before us may be guessed from the very first sentence it contains; "There never was any age," the author says, "in which the Protestant Church was more truly militant, than in the present, when liberality on the one hand, and every jesuitical art on the other, tend to its subversion; and when the scarlet Jezabel of Rome again rears her haggard countenance, exhibiting her meretricious charms to infatuate British Protestants, and decoy them back to her blood-stained embraces, by the influence of which common-sense is extinguished, reason and understanding annihilated,-conscience enslaved,-free inquiry checked and suppressed, and genuine freedom totally eradicated." This is mere clap-trap writing ad

"Ellmer Castle." Dublin. and Co. 1829.

William Curry, Jun.

IN Ireland this will be called one of the Brunswick books. It is a religious work, in the course of which the hero is converted from infidelity, or at least from utter carelessness about religion, to a better mode of thinking. Had the author been a Roman Catholic, the hero would of course have become so too; but as the author is a Protestant, the hero embraces that faith. There are some hits at the Irish priests illustrative of their ignorance, superstition, and intemperance; but on the whole the tone of the book is good, as well as the precepts it inculcates. We should guess it to be the production of a lady.

BALLANTYNE'S "EXAMINATION OF THE HUMAN MIND."

To the Editor of the Edinburgh Literary Journal. SIR,-I intend to lay before you a few remarks on the review of Ballantyne's" Examination of the Human Mind," which appeared in No. 5 of the " Literary Journal." In glancing his observations over for the first time, I was considerably disappointed to find the reviewer's opinion of the work so different from my own; but on perusing it with more attention, my disappointment was changed into another feeling, when I perceived that the author's meaning was misrepresented.

I am well aware that the review could have produced little effect upon "the few" by whom such works as Ballantyne's are read; but as your Journal is far more widely circulated than his volume, so, among "the many," there must exist an unjust prejudice against the "Examination" and its author. To remove this prejudice is my intention, and I rely upon your candour to second my attempt. It is not my design to notice the gratuitous assertions and extraneous matter with which the review abounds, but to substantiate the charge of misrepresentation which I have preferred against it.

In the application of the Law of Correspondence" to the sense of touch, the reviewer, as far as I can understand him, seems to have misunderstood the sense in which the word extension is used, representing Ballantyne as speaking of indefinite extension, instead of limited extension or figure, which might be wholly and at once impressed upon the organs of touch, and to have overlooked the difference between length of duration and extension of matter. Be this as it may, he has certainly failed to disprove, that "whatever be the form or magnitude of an impression, we uniformly experience a sensation and an idea of a portion of extension of a corresponding form and magnitude;" and he has not ever denied that Brown himself has admitted every thing for which Ballantyne pleads to establish his law.

But you will be more fully satisfied that the charge of misrepresentation is just, when I lay before you the reviewer's remarks on the application of the law to the sense of smelling. He asks," whether we have an idea of greater magnitude in smelling with one nostril, with half a nostril, or with both nostrils; or whether a rose of small dimensions suggests its comparative diminu. tiveness when coming after the fragrance of a bulkier

ply seems to be called for from him, and he offers the following very brief one :-1st, Mr Ballantyne's notions concerning extension, are not represented as pertaining to indefinite extension,-without reference to figure or limit; nor could they be so misrepresented, for Mr B. holds, that figure is a modification of extension; and the strictures on the review have reference entirely to figured space or limit. 2d, Mr B.'s doctrine, as to the acquisition of ideas of extension, by, or with sensation, is not misrepresented in the remarks upon the olfactory sense. The "Law of Correspondence," which is there applied, is quoted verbatim from the volume itself, so no misrepresentation could be made. That law, if it means any thing, supposes that connately with our sensations, we have ideas of extension, proportioned to the sensorial surface affected. The odour of a rose, therefore, titillating one nostril, or a certain portion of nervous expanse, should not suggest, by the one half, such an idea of magnitude, as when inhaled by both nostrils; for then a double portion of the sensorium would be exposed and affected. Again, it is but natural to conclude, that in any odorous body, such as a rose, the pungent particles of which impinge on the sense, and constitute smell, they are, ceteris paribus, numerous, in proportion to its bulk. A large rose, therefore, should, in its action upon the olfactories, affect a greater portion of the nervous expanse, and thus give an idea of greater extension than a smaller rose, whose particles, being finer, are more confined in their effects. In all this, it will take some ingenuity to discover misrepresentation. The consequences are legitimately deduced from the author's proposition, and if they are anomalous, the blame rests with the propounder of the law, and not with him who applies it.

predecessor." From this, any one would immediately infer, that Ballantyne had asserted that we could determine, whether an odour was emitted by a large or a small magnitude-or that, simply by smelling a rose, we could determine whether it was a large one or a small. Now, let us hear Ballantyne himself, and then let the candid judge whether these conclusions are legitimate. "An impression," says he, " on this organ (of smell) is always accompanied with a sensation and an idea of the part affected;" not, as the reviewer asserts, of the object emitting the odour. The reviewer observes, that "the theory (the Law of Correspondence) becomes supremely ridiculous if we take the most cursory view of sight," &c. Yet other philosophers, high in the critic's esteem, in effect admit this very theory. Stewart says, that the sensation of colour appears to the mind to be "something spread over the surface of bodies." But, as Ballantyne asks, has that which is spread over the surface of bodies no seeming extension? Brown also, in speaking of the ideas of extension afforded by our organs of sense in general, says, "we are apt to forget, in inquiries of this sort, that it is not in our organs of touch merely, that a certain extent of the nervous extremity of our sensorial organ is affected. This occurs, equally, in every other organ." Now, such remarks from these philosophers should certainly have prevented any of their admirers from applying the epithet of supremely ridiculous to this theory, as being Ballantyne's. The reviewer's remark on taste is too trifling to be noticed; and as he has passed over "Duration" with a blank assertion merely, I give it all the attention it merits by simply denying it. But if any part of his review shows the injustice of his remarks, and his incompetency for the task he had undertaken, it is that where he observes that Ballantyne's notions on Association are scarcely less sound than his conceptions of Duration. Association of ideas is a part of our constitution involved in much obscurity. Scarcely any philosopher except Hume has attempted the enumeration of its laws; and who denies that Hume has failed? Ballantyne has shown what inconsistent conclusions may be drawn from the doctrine, that ideas suggest each other according to the various relations among their objects; and in explaining, ramifying, and illustrating his "Law of Pre-cedence," has accounted for numerous phenomena con- By Thomas Aird, Esq. Author of "Religious Charac nected with the subject, in a manner far more simple and satisfactory to the candid and competent judge, than any solution that has hitherto appeared.

I intended, Sir, to have proceeded, but I fear I have already intruded too long; and, if you deem my observations correct, enough has been said to answer my design. I shall, therefore, in imitation of our reviewer, conclude by stating my opinion of the work.

If perspicuity and correctness of language, if the efforts of a vigorous mind, characterised by originality and acuteness, if manful grapplings with the greatest difficulties in the science both of mind and theology, deserve attention, the "Examination of the Human Mind" will long enjoy a station far above the works of "mediocre metaphysicians."

I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

J. L. We have given the above letter a place, from a desire to prove our impartiality in all literary matters. All criticism is matter of opinion; and in so far as regards the opinion of the "Examination" expressed in the article alluded to, the reviewer still thinks it was accurate, -he knows it was honest,-and, moreover, he has no objection that " J. L.," or any one else, should conscientiously form a very different judgment, either of the merits of the whole work, or of the validity, and value of its isolated doctrines. As to the charge of misrepresentation, but for which the above communication would have passed without further comment,-some re

MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE.

THE DEATH OF A PREJUdice.

A MORAL AND DESCRIPTIVE SKETCH.

teristics," &c.

AT a late hour one Saturday evening, as I was proceeding homewards along one of the crowded streets of our metropolis, I felt myself distinctly tapped on the shoulder, and, on looking round, a bareheaded man, dressed in a night-gown, thus abruptly questioned me— "Did you ever, sir, thank God for preserving your rea. son ?" On my answering in the negative" Then do it now," said he, "for I have lost mine." Notwithstanding the grotesque accompaniments of the man's dress, and his undignified face, disfigured by a large red nose, the above appeal to me was striking and sublimely pathetic; and when he bowed to me with an unsteady fervour and withdrew immediately, I could not resist following him, which I was the more inclined to do, as he seemed to be labouring under some frenzy, and might need to be looked after.

There was another reason for my being particularly interested in him: I had seen him before; and his appearance and interruption had once before given me great disgust. It was thus:-On my return to Scotland, after an absence of five years, which I had passed in the West Indies, I found the one beloved dead, for whom had been all my hopes and all my good behaviour through those long years. When all the world, with the hard severity of truth and prudence, frowned on the quick reckless spirit of my youth, she alone had been my gentle prophetess, and sweetly told that my better heart should one day, and that soon, give the lie to the cold

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