man nature is so similar in different states or communities, that the causes of peace and war, of tranquillity and sedition, of opulence and poverty, of improvement and degeneracy, are nearly the same in all. As the ancient democracies were unsettled and turbulent, we may conclude that a democratic government, in modern times, would not be very favorable to peace and order. The people and their leaders are in a great measure the same in all ages, though the degrees of their civilisation may be different. The passions are not sufficiently restrained, even in the most refined periods, by reason or philosophy:-the coarseness and vulgarity of nature will occasionally burst forth. You may expel nature (says Horace) in a manner that may seem to be forcible: yet it will find many opportunities of returning.

As reasoning from analogy is not founded on positive or mathematical truth, it may sometimes lead us into very erroneous conclusions or opinions. Great caution, therefore, is requisite in the use of this mode of judging, if we wish to avoid absurdity. Precipitate conclusions evince a weakness of mind and a want of sound judgement. As, in estimating an average, you would not adjust it by a few but by a considerable number of objects or points, so, in the process of analogy, you would not, if you were wise, pretend to deduce a general from a particular truth. If you only knew two or three Irishmen, and found them to be hot-headed and irritable, you would not justly attribute the same disposition to the whole or the greater part of the nation: but the case would be altered if, in your social rounds, you had observed the same quality pervading almost every company.

An application of the doctrine of ana logy to a comparison between matter and mind, may here be mentioned as a source of error. By means of our senses, we form an early acquaintance with material objects, and indeed are bred up in a constant familiarity with them. Hence we are apt to measure all things by them, and to attribute to things most remote from matter the qualities which belong to material objects. We must be conscious of the operations of our own minds when they are exerted, and seem to form distinct notions, of them: yet this is so difficult a work to men whose attention is constantly solicited by external appear

ances, that names are transferred to the former from familiar things which are supposed to bear some resemblance to them, scarcely any expressions being used for them but such as are borrowed from tangible or visible things. To understand, to comprehend, to imagine, to weigh, and many other terms, are words of this kind. Thus an analogy is generally supposed to exist between the body and the mind, or matter and spirit, notwithstanding the great and essential difference between them. Hence the deliberations of a person, when suspended between conflicting motives which appear to be equally forcible, are compared with a balance in which the opposite weights are equal; but this comparison has led some reasoners into an ill-founded idea. They pretend that a man, in this case, will not know how to act, and will necessarily remain in a state of listless indecision; but it certainly does not follow, because a piece of dead inactive matter would remain at rest in a certain case, that a thoughtful and active being would be equally unmoved. The old argument of an ass starving because it had no stronger motive to touch one bundle of hay than another on the opposite side, is rather a silly sophism than legitimate reasoning. The most stupid animal would not be perplexed on such an occasion.

In speaking of this branch of reasoning, it might be thought an unpardonable omission, if we should neglect to take notice of its application to the subject of religion. Bishop Butler has used it in this way with an effect which is generally admired. Instead of attempting to explain the divine œconomy with regard to intelligent creatures from preconceived notions of his own, he first inquires what the constitution of nature, as it is disclosed to us by experimental philosophy, actually is, and from this investigation he endeavours to form a judgement of that more important and interesting constitution which religion discovers to us. If the dispensation of Providence under which we now live, considered as inhabitants of this world, and having a temporal interest to secure in it, be found, on examination, to be analogous to that farther dispensation which relates to us as designed for another world, in which, as responsible or accountable beings, we have an eternal interest, depending on our behaviour during the present life,-if both may be

traced to the same general laws, and appear to be carried on according to the same plan of administration-it may fairly be presumed that both proceed from one and the same Author, and that the latter is a regular consequence of the other system-the final link in the chain of creation. It may be said that this dispute is satisfactorily settled by divine revelation; yet there is no impropriety in illustrating it by the aid of analogy.

THE

SECTARIAN, or the Church and the Meeting-House. 3 vols.

Ir might readily be supposed that this is rather a work of theological dispute or controversy than a novel; but it is, in fact, of both descriptions. The author is apparently a man of some talent, which, however, is more strongly exhibited in his attacks upon sectarianism, than in the construction of his plot or in his delineations of general character.

Instead of detailing the plot, we shall give some of the scenes and a striking catastrophe.

Lydia Orton is a young, beautiful, and rich convert to sectarianism, and Molesworth, one of the sect, has become insane. At a meeting, "as Lydia looked around her, she observed a young man, whom she had not before noticed farther than as one of those whose intellectual looks formed a contrast to the mass of the imbecile and the ignorant; who, seemingly under the influence of a strong feeling of what had just been spoken, sat wringing his hands, as if his mind was full of something on the subject, which he seemed doubting whether he should attempt to deliver to his fellows. After a little time, appearing to take courage, he rose, and with some hesitation made a speech which, from its melancholy import, its appearance of deep truth, the logical form in which it was put, and the manner in which its propositions were made to rest on passages of Scripture, as well as the intense conviction with which it evidently was uttered, was strongly and sadly affect ing. The serious young gentleman took, as a sort of motto to his exhortation, part of a sentence addressed by St. Paul to the churches of Galatia― Who gave himself for us, that he might deliver us from this present evil world.' He first descanted on the general calamities of

life, and the many sad and frightful events recorded in history, on all which he dwelt with a melancholy pathos, exclaiming that the present was truly denominated an evil world. But it was, he argued, peculiarly so to the true followers of the Messiah, from the painful warfare they had constantly to wage with it, and because much of the good that it promised, was to them like the tempting apple hanging on the tree of knowlege, of which they were not permitted to eat. There was, however, he added, much comfort in the consideration expressed in the words of Isaiah, that the righteous would soon be taken away from the evil.' Here he remarked, that the words of this passage were usually quoted in the restricted sense in which they stood in our translation, which said, that they would be taken away from the evil to come; but it would be seen upon inspection, that the words 'to come' had been supplied by the translators; that evil, in fact, was, in a peculiar manner to the righteous, at all times existing; it was past, present, and to come; so that, at whatever time the Christian's warfare should be terminated by death, he would emphatically be taken away from the evil.' But still it had been said, 'sufficient for the day is the evil thereof;' and although we were not by anticipation to lay up for ourselves sorrow for the day of suffering, still in every day there had been, and would be, evil meted out to us; and sufficient for every day as it came would be found its own portion of evil. The ultimate consolation, however, was, that Christians would be taken away from evil and sorrow to unmixed good; and, though the days of their pilgrimage on the earth, like those of the patriarch Jacob, were likely to be both few and evil, yet there was laid up for them in Heaven a better and an enduring substance. This species of theo-philosophy, not unfashionable as a matter of cant, even among the thoughtless and the empty, always came home to the heart of Lydia, (youthful and formed as she was for relishing the happiness of life) like a sad and depressing knell. But when she remarked, that so young a man as the speaker was deeply under the influence which he described, she was ready to reproach herself for any hesitation in giving her complete assent to its truth; and, from this day, she felt willing to resign the world, and inwardly to take the veil of entire devotion to her

so, mother! He was always a most affectionate husband to me,' said the poor lady, with tears. Ay, ay! he has brought himself and his family to a pretty pass, I think.' Mr. Keville walked humbly and sadly toward the door, and together with Lydia seemed glad to avoid this scene."

The circumstances of the patient's death are thus described.-"God have mercy upon this unhappy sufferer!' prayed Mr. Keville, as they retired amidst the shrieks of their lamented friend, which rang in their ears as they proceeded down stairs, until. the very street-door was closed upon them. He continued more or less in this state for two days, by which time he was unable to sit up; and on the third he fell into a stupor, which the physicians said was likely to have a fatal termination. Toward the evening of that day, however, his eye cleared, he was propped a little up, and seemed to busy himself silently in vain efforts to fold up one of his sleeves. 'Sir,' said his man, observing his efforts, I will help you. You will help me!' he said, scornfully; 'no, no, John!' he continued, shaking his head, and as if quite in his senses; you cannot help me, for in my case vain is the help of man! And immediately he began to sing, in the clear and tasteful manner for which he was remarked when in good health, a suitable hymn, alluding to our eternal home.' Intent on this idea, he repeated that consolatory passage, his voice sinking into weakness, and faltering with emotion. A few relieving tears trickled down his worn cheeks. As he laid back his head, he had just strength to raise his hand to his head, and to cover his eyes with his long thin fingers; the corners of his mouth dropped gradually down; and the servant, after some time observing that he did not alter his position, approached the bed-side, and found that his master was dead!"

A SPECIMEN OF EASY WRITING AND LIGHT READING, OR THE GENERAL MODE OF MANUFACTURING NOVELS;

long dark-blue traveling cloke, wearing a corresponding cap with a gold band and tassel, black bushy hair with whiskers and mustachios of the same color, and treading heavily in a pair of brass-shot Wellington boots. Mrs. Stanhope stood in breathless suspense: the person who had entered continued silent for some minutes, and at last burst into a hearty laugh, saying, 'Is it possible you don't know me?'-'Good Heaven,' said Mrs. Stanhope, why have you come at such an hour, and in such a dress?'-' It is not late-only nine o'clock-and as for my dress, excepting the whiskers and mustachios, it is what I often travel in. But what is the matter? Are you really offended?'-'I am more than offended, Georgina; I am shocked, both because, knowing my dislike to all trick, any practised upon me is an insult, and because I know not in what this coarse unfeminine joke may have involved me. Good God! at a moment when I feared being seen with an elderly clergyman, you come to my house disguised like a hussar! O! Georgina, was this like a sister? My very servants —'—' I shall soon settle that,' said the undaunted Georgina; and ringing, desired the servant to assist her in unrobing; and applying her fingers to her face, restored it to its wonted smoothness, and then, with perfect composure, told the servant, that in case of robbers she always disguised herself when traveling through a lonely country, such as that which she had ed within the last two hours.

pass

A LADY is supposed to be sitting in a melancholy mood, when she is startled by a knock at the door."The waiting maid ushered in a person wrapped in a

from, and the serious mischief of which it may be productive, that shock me. But the deed is done, and I must bear the results, whatever they are; and in the mean time I shall endeavour to think no more of it. Florence, get tea or

coffee for your aunt, and then look after her apartment.''Don't stir; I have been at the inn for two hours, and drank tea; I hate to spoil the pleasure of an arrival by sending the mistress or young ladies of the house to look after viands."

Two hours? I thought you said to my servant that you had traveled for the last two hours.'-'Lord, sister, are you still so literal? Who, to look at you, would expect such old-fashioned notions? I said so, just to do away my whiskers and mustachios to your servant; but I put them on for a mere frolic.'

"Mrs. Stanhope rose in disgust, and was about to leave the room, when her sister threw her arms round her neck, assuring her that, notwithstanding her follies, she had a true and a kind heart. 'Come, my dear Susan,' said she, 'let us be friends; I have come a great many miles to see you, and, with all my giddiness, I can perceive, and I do so with deep regret, that you are annoyed by some new trouble, or else your old ones stirred up again. Don't let this joke shake your confidence in my regard, whatever else I may lose.'-'This is beyond a joke, Georgina; but we shall say no more of it. Tell me when you left London.'-' A week ago.'-'A week to travel two hundred miles!'-'Yes, I am never so happy as on a journey, and I prolong the pleasure of it as much as possible. I need not ask if you came in a public vehicle, unless your taste is much changed.'-'Not in the least: I still like the changes and chances of a mail-coach; if the company be vulgar or not amusing, it is easy to stop at the first stage; and-no disparagement to your hospitality-I am never so entirely happy as in an inn; for there every body strives to serve you, and nobody finds fault.'-'Where is your luggage?'-'At the hotel; it comes in the morning. I hate the bustle of trunks and bandboxes, when one should be embracing and indulging in all the

I don't

know what you sentimentalists would call it.'

"Mrs. Stanhope could not help smiling at the oddness of a person so well understanding all the practical part of what she could not have defined in words; and endeavoured to forget her peccadillos in the recollection of her real worth. She then laughed at the load of rings which adorned her sister's somewhat large but very handsome fingers. 'O! yes,' said she, they are horrid

things to wear; but they give conse quence, and their designs, and mottos, and settings, afford conversation sometimes; besides, I like to create surprise, by hinting that I got this from a general, that from an admiral, and another from a duchess. I have a brooch and drops to match that little myrtle in mosaic which the duchess of Dgave me.' The duchess of D- -!' said Mrs. Stanhope; I remember your buying it the last time I was in London.' To be sure it is the same; I am merely letting you hear a little puff, just to give one an air of importance.'

"Mrs. Stanhope took up the candle, and left the room without uttering a single word; Florence, who had been examining the rings, threw them from her in disgust; and Georgina indulged herself in a flood of tears, probably more angry than repentant."

TRAITS OF TRAVEL,

by the Author of High-ways and Bye-ways.

MR. GRATTAN is, in our opinion, an agreeable and entertaining writer. He reflects on whatever he observes in his circumspective progress, and his remarks, if not always profound, are generally judicious. To him (says a critic) "every mile in a journey affords room for a sketch or a reflection of some value; he profits largely by all new peculiarities, social and personal, that arise on his path; and he permits no feature of interest, either in the country or the people, to escape unnoticed. Unlike those travelers, who judge of communities by individuals, and classify whole masses by the indications thrown out in insulated atoms, he rarely ascribes to the nation that which belongs to the man, and wisely hesitates in his summary of the general character, until he has obtained an authentic body of general evidence. If he be not a very deep thinker, he lacks none of the advantages of good sense; if not very profound in his analyses, he is cautious and correct; if not philosophical, he is at all events rational and acute; if he develope no statistical research in his works, he exhibits a graphic power that atones by popular description for the absence of more laborious and, perhaps, less useful details, It is well for his readers that he failed in the drama, since his incapacity in that style has thrown him back upon another,