Its incessant repetition of a few articulate sounds, or, perhaps, of the single word which it has learnt to pronounce, proves this point clearly. Nor is it less pleased with its first successful endeavours to walk, or rather to run, (which precedes walking,) although entirely ignorant of the importance of the attainment to its future life, and even without applying it to any present pur pose. A child is delighted with speaking, without having anything to say, and with walking, without knowing where to go. And, prior to both these, I am disposed to believe that the waking hours of infancy are agreeably taken up with the exercise of vision, or, perhaps, more properly speaking, with learning to see. But it is not for youth alone that the great Parent of creation hath provided. Happiness is found with the purring cat, no less than with the playful kitten: in the arm-chair of dozing age, as well as in either the sprightliness of the dance, or the animation of the chase. To novelty, to acuteness of sensation, to hope, to ardour of pursuit, succeeds, what is in no inconsiderable degree an equivalent for them all, "perception of ease." Herein is the exact difference between the young and the old. The young are not happy but when enjoying pleasure: the old are happy when free from pain. And this constitution suits with the degrees of animal power which they respectively possess. The vigour of youth was to be stimulated to action by impatience of rest; whilst to the imbecility of age, quietness and repose become positive gratifications. In one important respect the advantage is with the old. A state of ease is, generally speaking, more attainable than a state of pleasure. A constitution, therefore, which can enjoy ease, is preferable to that which can taste only pleasure. This same perception of ease oftentimes renders old age a condition of great comfort, especially when riding at its anchor after a busy or tempestuous life. It is well described by Rousseau, to be the interval of repose and enjoyment between the hurry and the end of life. How far the same cause extends to other animal natures cannot be judged of with certainty. The appearance of satisfaction with which most animals, as their activity subsides, seek and enjoy rest, affords reason to believe that this source of gratification is appointed to advanced life, under all or most of its various forms. In the species with which we are best acquainted, namely, our own, I am far, even as an observer of human life, from thinking that youth is its happiest season, much less the only happy one: as a Christian, I am willing to believe that there is a great deal of truth in the following representation given by a very pious writer, as well as excellent man:*"To the intelligent and virtuous, old age presents a scene of tranquil enjoyments, of obedient appetite, of wellregulated affections, of maturity in knowledge, and of calm preparation for immortality. In this serene and dignified state, placed as it were on the confines of two worlds, the mind of a good man reviews what is past with the complacency of an approving conscience, and looks forward, with humble confidence in the mercy of God, and with devout aspirations, towards His eternal and ever-increasing favour." What is seen in different stages of the same life, is still more exemplified in the lives of different animals. Animal enjoyments are infinitely diversified. The modes of life to which the organisation of different animals respectively determines them are not only of various, but of opposite kinds. Yet each is happy in its own. For instance: animals of prey live much alone; animals of a milder constitution in society. Yet the herring, which lives in shoals, and the sheep, which lives in flocks, are not more happy in a crowd, or more contented amongst their companions, than is the pike or the lion with the deep solitudes of the pool or the forest. But it will be said that the instances which we have here brought forward, whether of vivacity or repose, or of apparent enjoyment derived from either, are picked and favourable instances. We answer, first, that they are instances, nevertheless, which comprise large provisions of sensitive existence; that every case which we have described is the case of millions. At this moment, in every given moment of time, how many myriads of animals are eating * Father's Instructions, by Dr Percival, of Manchester, p. 317. their food, gratifying their appetites, ruminating in their holes, accomplishing their wishes, pursuing their pleasures, taking their pastimes! In each individual, how many things must go right for it to be at ease; yet how large a proportion out of every species is so in every assignable instant! Secondly, we contend, in the terms of our original proposition, that throughout the whole of life, as it is diffused in nature, and as far as we are acquainted with it, looking to the average of sensations, the plurality, and the preponderancy is in favour of happiness by a vast excess. In our own species, in which, perhaps, the assertion may be more questionable than any other, the prepollency of good over evil, of health, for example, and ease, over pain and distress, is evinced by the very notice which calamities excite. What inquiries does the sickness of our friends produce! what conversation their misfortunes! This shows that the common course of things is in favour of happiness; that happiness is the rule, misery the exception. Were the order reversed, our attention would be called to examples of health and competency, instead of disease and want. One great cause of our insensibility to the goodness of the Creator is the very extensiveness of His bounty. We prize but little what we share only in common with the rest, or with the generality of our species. When we hear of blessings, we think forthwith of successes, of prosperous fortunes, of honours, riches, preferments, i.e., of those advantages and superiorities over others, which we happen either to possess, or to be in pursuit of, or to covet. The common benefits of our nature entirely escape us. Yet these are the great things. These constitute what most properly ought to be accounted blessings of Providence; what alone, if we might so speak, are worthy of its care. Nightly rest and daily bread, the ordinary use of our limbs, and senses, and understandings, are gifts which admit of no comparison with any other. Yet, because almost every man we meet with possesses these, we leave them out of our enumeration. They raise no sentiment; they move no gratitude. Now, herein is our judgment perverted by our selfishness. A blessing ought in truth to be the more satis factory-the bounty at least of the donor is rendered more con spicuous-by its very diffusion, its commonness, its cheapness; by its falling to the lot and forming the happiness of the great bulk and body of our species, as well as of ourselves. Nay, even when we do not possess it, it ought to be a matter of thankfulness that others do. But we have a different way of thinking. We court distinction. That is not the worst; we see nothing but what has distinction to recommend it. This necessarily contracts our views of the Creator's beneficence within a narrow compass, and most unjustly. It is in those things which are so common as to be no distinction, that the amplitude of the divine benignity is perceived. GOD THE AUTHOR OF NATURE. THERE lives and works A soul in all things, and that soul is God. The beauties of the wilderness are His, That make so gay the solitary place, Where no eye sees them; and the fairer forms He sets the bright procession on its way, And marshals all the order of the year; He marks the bounds which Winter may not pass, And, ere one flowery season fades and dies, The Lord of all, Himself through all diffused, Nature is but a name for an effect, Whose cause is God. One spirit-His COWPER. Who wore the platted thorns with bleeding brows— But shows some touch, in freckle, streak, or stain, Of His unrivall'd pencil. He inspires Their balmy odours, and imparts their hues, And bathes their eyes with nectar; and includes, The forms with which He sprinkles all the earth. [THOMAS CAMPBELL was born in 1777 at Glasgow; he died in 1844 at Boulogne, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. His reputation will chiefly rest pon his poetry; and of this his lyrics will perhaps give him the best claim to immortality. His "Specimens of the British Poets" offer favourable examples of his critical ability, and of his prose style. From this popular work the following notice of Chatterton is extracted.] Thomas Chatterton was the posthumous child of the master of a free school in Bristol. At five years of age he was sent to the same school which his father had taught, but he made so little |