with pleasure, then, indeed, he may seek in vain for felicity in all the works of creation. But different is the result of his labours. All is felicity, the sweets of uncontaminated enjoyment, that flows from investigations of a scientific nature. These are thy trophies, sacred Science these the laurels with which thy votaries are crowned. June 2d, 1811. PHILO SCIENTIÆ. THE MORAL WORLD. The glorious examples of Joseph Addison and Samuel Johnson, are sufficiently powerful to excite us, the humblest of their disciples, to devote some portion of the periodical page to those solemn themes, which it highly imports us to meditate at the sacred season. Let it be remembered, even by the giddiest lounger, that when we select a moral speculation for the refor. mation of the reprobate, or the contemplation of the pious, we are studious that genius, eloquence, and religion should be blended. There is no one habit, or quality, which exerts such a powerful influence on all the affairs of life, as the strenuous exercise of those active powers, which God has implanted in the nature of man. On what but the exertion of these powers, can we depend for the cultivation of the soil, the invention of manu⚫factures, and, in short, for the production of every thing which constitutes the good and the ornament of human life. It may seem strange, but it is not more strange than true, that if men wish for any thing like pleasurable ease, the only way to obtain it is, by patient and persevering industry. For what tends so much to disturb our quiet, to harass our minds, and corrode our hearts, as those vexations and inconveniences, which the want of exertion is sure to bring upon us. By neglecting the exercise of our active powers, we do not exonerate ourselves from difficulties, or put ourselves out of the reach of sorrow. We have all some interests to take care of, some business to manage, some duties to perform. Now, to neglect these interests, this business, and these duties, is only to run up an account with Time, which will accumulate to a sum, that we shall find it painful, if not impossible, to discharge. -Nothing gives occasion to so much labour, as idleness, and to labour the most afflicting, because accompanied with poignant regret, for our past ne glect. In all the affairs of life, industry, continual and persevering, saves that labour which idleness only, accumulates. In our common household concerns, does not the neglect or intermission of vigilance and exertion make our subsequent labour to retrieve the past, greater than it would otherwise have been? Does it not force us to do much in a little time? or, if our idleness be not merely an occasional, but a lasting intermission of exertion, does it not inevitably produce an irretrievable disorder, and ruin in our affairs? Enter the houses of the slothful, and you will behold almost every thing out of place; dirt accumulating for want of cleanliness; the family ragged, and every appearance of squalled poverty in the dwelling. By much slothfulness, says Solomon, the building decayeth, and through idleness of the hands, the house droppeth through. In the habitations of the industrious, no repairs are any sooner wanted than they are performed; thus, the building is kept compact and weather-proof; but, in the dwellings of the slothful, one little rent in the walls, one broken pane in the casement, or one opening in the roof is left neglected after another, till the whole building is pervious to the wind, or leaks like a sieve. The remark may be applied to many similar cases, in which sloth is suffered, by a gradual accumulation of evil, to produce the most serious mischief, to the temporal, as well as the moral interests of men, which a little exertion, in the first instance, would easily have prevented. It is idleness, or the unwillingness to exercise our active faculties, which causes our bad habits to become powerful, and our good habits to fall into decay. Besides, if we regard only present pleasure, industry has greatly the advantage over sloth. Industry, by employing the attention, calls it off from those various uneasinesses and anxieties, which will otherwise intrude into our hearts, and depress our spirits, while it prevents that languor, that dreary void in our breasts, which is the consequence of inaction. Sloth, is in itself painful; it causeth the mind and the heart, which are not actively employed, to prey upon themselves, and to become their own tormentors, and executors. There is no pleasure in doing nothing, or having nothing to do. For that vacancy of thought, that deadness of the attention, which are the concomitants of idleness, are more depressing than the most continual toil. What are the fruits of sloth? By sloth do we acquire any gain, or pleasure? do we enlarge our fortune, or reputation? do we increase the number of our friends, or diminish the number of our foes? no: it tends to impoverish our circumstances, to multiply our pains, to increase the aversion of our enemies, and to chill the good will of our friends; and, in short, in those various embarrassments and sorrows, into which it is sure in the end to plunge us, to leave us without resource in our want, or consolation in our wo. But, by constant and unremitting industry, by attention to our business, to our family, to our friends, to our various domestic or social ties, we in crease our reputation, our property, our self approbation: we provide resources against the hour of difficulty, agreeable recollections against the seas on of sorrow, friends to cheer us in the depression of uneasiness, and to help in time of adversity. Thus industry tends greatly to make us lead a happy life, and to protect ourselves against its various contingencies and diseases, as well as human sagacity, and virtue can protect us. Industry is the only possible road to the acquisition of good habits; and there is no good habit necessary to salvation which industry may not acquire, When we first commence the formation of a good habit, which seems contrary to our present forward inclinations or secular interests, the work may seem difficult; but patient industry, the persevering exertion of our active powers, will soon render what is difficult easy, and what is unpleasant agreeable. Every successive exertion, when we are doing any thing contrary to the bent of our natural inclination, makes the next endeavour more easy; takes off from the aversion; and adds so much to the willingness to perform it. Thus, our nature is, by degrees, accommodated to habits, once the most adverse to the principles of our minds, or the wishes of our hearts. Thus, hardy habits of virtue are acquired. To court ease, is to involve ourselves in difficulty; but to combat difficulty, is to obtain ease. For every difficulty, when overcome, proves a source of pleasure; while, on the other hand, a loose and idle longing after pleasure, often proves a source of trouble. There are no difficulties whatever in the way of our progress in goodness, and, consequently, in our road to heaven, which industrious exertion may not overcome; and as when they are overcome, they always more than repay the primary pain, which is transient, by the subsequent pleasure, which is lasting, we have every reason not to be discouraged; but, instead of letting sloth govern us, are incited strenuously, and in good earnest, to set about the performance of those things, which make for our present and eternal good. Industry contributes to success in every enterprize; the industrious who are determined to exert themselves, feel confident of succeeding by exertion. It is an old saying, but in most cases, will be found a very true one, that men can effect, what they think they can effect; because, what they think they can effect, they have usually the courage to undertake, and the patience to persist in executing. It has often been said, that he who has begun any work, has advanced half way towards its completion. Now the sluggard has not the courage to shake off his indolence, and begin: he is damped by the sight of difficulties, which his imagination magnifies; and all his powers of action are cramped by the love of ease. But the industrious, who has tried the strength of his active powers in many a hardy trial, is not to be disheartened by the many difficulties and vexations, which may set themselves in array against him, at the threshold of any undertaking; for he is conscious that habitual activity, assisted by the favour of God, will every day diminish those difficulties and vexations in number and quantity. The industrious is not dismayed by the obstructions at the beginning, so much as he is animated by the reward, at the end. He knows that God has made the most precious gifts, and particularly virtuous habits, the most difficult to attain; but then he has, in order to stimulate our endeavours, annexed the greatest reward to their attainment. It is the hope of reward, which sweetens toil: we forget the present by anticipating the future. When the husbandman is ploughing, tilling, sowing, or manuring the land, amid the dreary rains of autumn, or the hoary frosts of winter, he is doing what may at the moment be disagreeable to his feelings, or adverse to his inclination; but is he not cheered by the prospect of future good, by the means of subsistence which he is providing, and by the sight of the waving harvest, which will crown his toils? For the rains of autumn and the frosts of winter, all contribute, under the superintending care of him, who rules the seasons, to the fertility of the earth and the benefit of man. CRITICISM.-FOR THE PORT FOLIO. MR. OGILVIE. THE public have for a long time witnessed the exertions of Mr. Ogilvie in a pursuit peculiarly and exclusively his own. Concerning this subject, various opinions, of course, have been formed, as the novelty of the thing attracts, or repels. All ideas either favourable or unfavourable, derived from such sources, ought, in common justice, now to be abandoned. Novelty either delights, or disgusts for a moment; and we seldom attempt to analyze unless that novelty assumes a more settled and permanent form. Whatever is dependent on that quality alone for success, or miscarriage, is not worth the pains of an analysis: every repetition impairs its vital principle, until it sinks at last the martyr of its own imbecility. All parties will agree in this point, that a pursuit to which the life of a fellow being is hereafter to be devoted, would be, from that circumstance alone, entitled to a fair and impartial analysis; more especially when, as in the present case, its success or miscarriage depends on the character it receives. The whole empire of eloquence has usually consisted of three grand provinces only; the pulpit, the bar, and the stage. These divisions in the moral world, like the boundaries of states and empires in the natural one, are arbitrary in themselves. Besides, from the pulpit to the bar there seems some violence of descent. Morality and literature are subjects large and extensive enough to demand a distinct and inde pendent species of eloquence. The apprehension that this would ultimately tend to sever, what God has joined together, religion and morality, is believed to be unfounded. Subjects so large, are from their very nature unsusceptible of light and airy ornament. Whatever is awful, impressive and sublime, demands a correspondent solemnity of description. The mountäin, whose top, penetrating the clouds, is lifted into perpetual sunshine and seems the connecting link of heaven and earth, derives no assistance from the wild rose that blossoms on its borders. So, just so indispensible are these impressions that even architecture has conformed to them; for even in the construction of temples they are made to inspire solemnity and gloom. We cannot cast our eyes on surrounding nature, we cannot even contemplate our own bodies, but what they all serve to remind us of the overwhelming importance of the doctrines promulgated from the temple. A bare recapitulation of the leading points-life-death-resurrection and eternity— will enforce these great and comprehensive ideas in language more affecting and impressive than all the embellishments of rhetoric. This gives to the desk a peculiar and an appropriate cast of eloquence. But if analogy is pursued, and what is not only innocent, but commendable also, in one department of knowledge, does not change its nature, and become criminal in another, it may safely be affirmed that a system of eloquence may be devised from which morality may borrow graces and fascination, and with which religion is from the sublimity of its nature incompatible. There are writers who manage religious subjects with correspondent dignity, who scorn the embellishments of fancy, as beneath their regard, and who rest their hopes of success on revelation alone. But because religion forbids such ornament, does morality decline the acceptance? No. Writers who have descanted on this topic, have explored every mine of fancy for materials; they have had recourse to fables, to tales, to the ancient, and to the Rosicrucian system of theology to captivate the minds of ardent youth. All these parties, although they war with different instruments, and vary their nodes of attack, are allies in one common cause. As youth is the season when novelty attracts, novelty is enlisted in the |