ing exist in the mind, or in the object chosen? If it be answered, that the power of choice is in the mind, and not in the object which influences the mind, the man who was at a loss to determine which of his friends to visit, while the objects were in equal force on his mind, was entirely ignorant of it; and admitting it was so, it might as well have been otherwise, for the power of chusing in his mind, did him no good; he was after all, dependant on a certain circumstance, which, being attached to one object, made it preferable to the other.Again, admitting the power of choice to be attributed to the mind, and not to the object which gives preceptions to the mind and influences it, it must be as easy for the mind to chuse a minor, as a major object. It will be granted, on all sides, that persons may chuse an object in preference to another, which is not half so valuable; but this is always in consequence of error in judgment. Now it is as objects appear to the mind, that we ought to consider them in our present query. Supposing a poor man, who has a wife and some hungry children to feed, is offered a dollar or a guinea, for a day's work; he does not know the value of either, not being acquainted with money, or its value, or the nature of the metals which are stamped with value. He. consults, or means to consult the good of those for whom he is willing to labor, and would if possible, receive that which would do the most towards removing their wants; and says to himself, the dollar is much the largest, and the probability is, it is worth three times as much as the guinea; it is finally his opinion that that is the case. Now I ask in relation to my argument, which of those pieces of money will he be most likely to chuse ? The answer is, the dollar. But I ask, why? If his mind

be at real liberty, it is no more attached to the dollar than to the guinea; the influence which the dollar has on his mind more than the guinea, destroys not the liberty of the mind to choose the guinea; I wish to be told, why he is more likely to choose the dollar than the guinea. Or, to alter the statement, so that the mind is not deceived. The man perfectly knows the value of both guinea and dollar. The good of his wanting family is what he means to consult; which will he be most likely to choose, in this case? answer, the guinea. I ask, again, why? Is there any reason, or is there not? There is, and it is the greater value. Then the object governs the choice. I ask, in the above instance, had the mind any power or liberty to choose the object which appeared of the least value, and refuse that which appeared of the greatest? I am sure there is not a person in the world who would say that it had. Again, admitting, for the sake of the argument that the mind possesses this imaginary liberty; I then ask, how came it to possess such liberty? Answer, God gave it. Then the matter stands thus, God produced a mind,. and gave it liberty to will, or choose, and it wills or chooses; I ask, what is the original cause of this willing and choosing? The reader will easily see, that if I grant my opponent's arguments, it will not be to his advantage. Again, for the last time, if God gave to man a liberty whereby he can choose or refuse the same object, did he not give his creature a liberty which he did not possess himself? Did not the Infinitely Wise eternally know all that he himself would do? It must be granted. Then I ask, again, does he possess any liberty in his nature, whereby it is in his power to abandon the general system contained in his divine. omnisciency, and embrace one entirely different? I am sure there are but few in the world who would not

say, as did the apostle, "He cannot deny himself." If the creature possess any ability which is not in his Creator, I would ask, first, where he got it? And, secondly, if the Almighty knew all the consequences which would arise from such an ability? If the answer be in the negative, it argues that his wisdom is finite and limited, and that he does not know but this unaccountable ability of willing and choosing may finally destroy his whole plan in cre ation, providence and redemption! If it be granted, that he did know all the consequences that would arise from this ability of willing and choosing, which is called liberty of will, it is denying its existence. For if those consequences were all known, it argues they were all certain, and none of them avoidable.

Having, as I hope, to the reader's satisfaction, answered the objections in respect to the liberty of the will, I would again invite him back to our subject.

The immediate causes of sin are found in our natural constitutions, and the most distant of those immediate causes are the same as the most distant of the immediate causes of our virtues; but the most immediate causes of our virtues and our vices. are extremely different. For instance, two men meet at an inn; both of them have families which are in want of bread; they have each fifty cents, which they have just taken for their day's work. One says, to the other, come, sit down, and we will take some drink, for our comfort, after a hard day's labor. The other reflects in his mind, and says to himself, to let my children suffer, at home, to gratify my company in what is indifferent to me, would be abominable, having no particular appetite for spirits; he, therefore, refuses, bids his company good night, goes and purchases necessary provisions

for his family, and goes home. He has done as a virtuous honest husband ought to do. The other possesses a violent appetite for ardent spirits; the moment he comes where it is, his want of it overpowers his love and duty to his family, the latter object being at a distance, and the former being nigh; he calls for drink until he spends his fifty cents, and then goes home to his expecting family intoxicated. In this, according to the scriptures, though he were a professed christian, he is worse than an infidel.

In the mirror presented, the reader may see, that those two men acted equally alike from their natural wants, appetites and passions. Had neither of them any wants, appetites or passions, neither of them would have done any thing at all. They would not have labored for the money; and if they had the money, they would not have laid it out in any way possible. Therefore, we see, that want, appetite and passion, in one, produced virtue, and in the other, vice. But, the still more immediate causes. were not the same in both persons; and the consequences to them, in a moral sense, differ as much, as did the most immediate circumstances which produced their conduct. One felt the approbation of a good conscience in having done what cool dispassionate reason dictated; the other, as soon as his eyes are opened to see what he has done, is struck with condemnation, for having violated the dictates of that law of prudence and equity, of which he was susceptible.

A beggar influenced by hunger, calls at the door of the affluent for food, he knows it is there, his appetite is good, the object magnifies to his senses; but by one who knows the love of property more than the want of food, he is sternly denied. The beggar

prostrates himself, and moves his suit in language of distress, reducing his petition to only a piece of bread; the covetous man is a little moved, with some small feelings of compassion, but fearing that if he should bestow, he should consequently be troubled again, bids the beggar depart, and leaves him. The beggar's object was food, and his passion hunger; he acted up to the influence of his object, and did all in his power to obtain it. The other's object was the saving of his property, and his passion was covetousness; he acted up to the influence of his object, to the gratification of his passion. Now, had the circumstance been varied so much as this, that he did not think his giving, at that time, would ever induce him to call again, the probability is, his object and his passion would both have been different; to feed an hungry man, would have been his object, and charity his passion.

Man's main object, in all he does, is happiness; and were it not for that, he never could have any other particular object. What would induce men to form societies; to be at the expense of supporting government; to acquire knowledge; to learn the sciences, or till the earth, if they believed they could be as happy without, as with? The fact is, man would not be the being that he now is, as there would not be any stimulus to action; he must become inert, therefore cease to be. As men are never without this grand object, so they are never without their wants, which render such an object desirable. But their minor objects vary, according as their understandings vary, and their passions differ. Then, says the objector, there is no such thing as disinterested benevolence. I answer, words are used to communicate ideas; there is that, often, in our experience, which is meant by disinterested