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Class book of natural
theology, or. The testimony
4
///,■ a:,/./ l/,.n.;i:rl/, h.-c,,,.,.:. .1 TempJe an.I liu //.,//
•-/ u.t /'/• .„l,,rattvn
Gould .h.ntlaD a Uncolji.
■4*-,
CLASS BOOK
OF
NATURAL THEOLOGY;
OR THE
TESTIMONY OF NATURE
TO THE
BEING, PERFECTIONS, AND GOVERNMENT OF GOD.
BY THE /^
REV. HENRY 'FERGUS.
The living God, which made heaven, and earth, and the sea, and all
things that are therein Acts xiv. 15.
REVISED AND ENLARGED,
AND ADAPTED TO
PAXTON'S ILLUSTRATIONS;
WITH
NOTES, SELECTED AND ORIGINAL, BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES, AND A
VOCABULARY OF SCIENTIFIC TERMS.
REV. CHARLES HENRY ALDEN, A. M.,
PRINCIPAL OF THE PHILADELPHIA HIGH SCHOOL FOR YOUNG LADIES.
S:|)frlr JBtiition, SSlcbiseli.
BOSTON:
GOULD, KENDALL, AND LINCOLN.
AND FOR SALE BY THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS THROUGHOUT
THE UNITED STATES.
1838.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1835,
By Gould, Kendall, «S6 Lincoln,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.
STEREOTYPED AT THE
BOSTON TYPE AND STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY.
PREFACE
A Class Book of Natural Theology, adapted, both in mat-
ter and price, to our numerous schools of a higher order, has long
been wanted, and the want regretted by many judicious parents
and teachers. In resi)ect to the increasing number of our semina-
ries for young ladies, especially, the want has, hitherto, had no rem-
dy in the form of a text-book. In that justly popular and inval-
uable work, Paley's Theology Illustrated, there are, it is found,
some things not well adapted to the ordinary circumstances of
female instruction, and even of young gentlemen in many of our
more common select schools ; but, for our higher seminaries of
learning, for our colleges and theological institutions, this work
is considered indispensable.
A distinct object with the Editor of the following work, has been
to render it strictly appropriate both to the public and private
education of Young Ladies ; there being no topic in it which
may not be discussed with entire propriety under any circum-
stances.
The Notes will be found important and interesting ; and the
adaptation of the whole to Paxton's admirable Illustrations,
is too obviously useful and attractive to require comment.
The Biographical Notices, su^ested by the Editor's knowl-
edge of the general deficiency among the young in this kind of
literature, are necessary to intelligent students, to whom large
works on Biography, Encyclopedias, &c. are not accessible. The
place of residence and the works, as well as the circumstances of
the honored benefactors of the world, and the period when they
flourished, ought early to be known. This kind of knowledge is,
to the young, naturally interesting ; and the result is, or ought to
be, a grateful remembrance of such men, and a disposition to
profit by their labors.
4 PREFACE.
The Vocabulary of Scientific Terms will be found useful
to such as have not had opportunity to cultivate a familiar ac-
quaintance witli the elements of Natural History, Philosophy, and
Science.
Though a truism, it is not useless to repeat it, — an intelligent
and judicious course of instruction is a matter, in our countiy, of
paramount importance. As soon as our youth have compre-
hended the principles of Natural History, Natural Philosophy,
Astronomy, and Chemistry, — and this they may now do at an
early age, — they can with profit enter on the study of Natural
Theology. Under the direction of intelligent and faithful in-
structers, a knowledge of this science can scarcely fail to confirm
moral principle, lead to habits of discrimination and study, en-
large the views of the tendency of human actions, encourage
confidence in good men and good designs, and thus add to the
resources, the strength and the adorning of a country whose only
way to " exaltation is virtue."
The influence of the study of this science on individual piety
and excellence, commends it to the attention of the best friends
of man. In the language of one whose purity of character and
chastened sensibility have done more than any other in our
language to invest Virtue in her native attractiveness,
In the vast, and the minute, we see
The unambig-uous footsteps of the GoD
Who gives its lustre to an insect's wings,
And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds. — Task.
To those engaged in the responsible duties of instructers, the
Editor has no suggestions to offer as to the use of this, as a text-
book. They will not fail to interest their classes by adding at each
recitation something from the stores of their own experience and
observation, and endeavor to make every accession of knowledge
on the part of their pupils an increase of practical wisdom. — Est
animorum ingeniorumque naturale quoddam quasi pabulum con-
sideratio contemplatioque naturae : erigimur; elatiores fieri
videmur. — Cicero.
Philadelphia, June, 1835.
TO
MRS. EMMA WILLARD,
THE DEVOTED AND SUCCESSFUL PROMOTER OF
FEMALE EDUCATION,
THIS WORK JS INSCRIBED,
WITH SENTIMENTS OF HIGH CONSIDERATION
BY
THE EDITOR.
CONTENTS.
Page.
Introduction, 9
BOOK I.
THE ORIGIX OF THE WORLD.
Chap. I. The General Belief of Mankind, 11
II. The Eternity of the World, 14
III. Chance, 19
IV. Design, 22
BOOK II.
EVIDENCES OF DESIGN IN NATURE.
Chap. I. General Observations, 28
II. The Human Eye, 30
III. General View of the Human Body, 42
IV. The Inferior Animals, 54
Sect. 1. Form of the Inferior Animals, r 56
2. Clothing of the Inferior Animals, 64
3. Defence of the Inferior Animals, 66
4. Food of the Inferior Animals, 69
5. Adaptations of the Inferior Animals, 72
Insects, 75
y . Instinct, 77
Sect. 1. Means of Defence and Safety in the Inferior
Animals, 79
2. Means of procuring their Food, 81
3. Their Habitations, 82
4. Continuation of the Species, 83
VI. The Ocean, 91
Sect. 1. General View of the Ocean, 92
2. Uses of the Ocean, 96
VII. Water, as a chemical Substance, 97
VIII. The General Appearance of the Earth, and Vegetation, 114
IX. The Atmosphere, 122
X. Light, 129
8 CONTENTS.
Page.
Chap. XI. Astronomy, 131
Sect. 1. Forms of the Heavenly Bodies, 132
2. Arrangement of the Heavenly Bodies, 135
3. Motions of the Heavenly Bodies, 139
Fixed Stars, 143
BOOK III.
THE PERFECTIONS OF DEITy.
Chap. I. The Unity of Deity, 148
II. The Power of Deity, 152
II. The Wisdom of Deity, 153
V. The Goodness of Deity., 155
V. The Character and State of Man, 160
Man an immortal Being, 160
Man an accountable Being, 166
VI. Evil in the World, 171
Sect. 1. Evils of Imperfection, 173
2. Moral Evil, 176
3. Natural Evil, 184
Physical Constitution of the Earth, 191
Nature of some of the Inferior Animals, 206
The Pains and Sorrows to which Man is ex-
posed from his Constitution, and the Cir-
cumstances in which he is placed, 214
Vocabulary, , 221
PAXTON'S ILLUSTRATIONS, with Descriptions, 225
INTRODUCTION.
The proofs of the Being, Perfections, and Government of God
may be indefinitely increased ; for, as our knowledge of creation
extends, the evidences of design multiply upon us. It is the aim
of the following Treatise to show, within narrow limits, that con-
trivance, wisdom, and goodness appear not in one province only,
but in ev^eiy department of the Universe which falls under our
observation. Ray, Derham,* and Pa ley have distinguished them-
selves in this branch of learning; and of their excellent works the
Author has occasionally availed himself.
The subject is of universal interest, and has a paramount claim to
earnest attention. Without reverence for Deity, man is a degraded
and forlorn prodigal ; but religion felicitates and exalts our nature ;
and it is the first stej) in religion to believe that God is, and " that
he is the Rewarder of them who diligently seek him." Creation
declares the existence of the Creator, invites us to contemplate his
perfections in the works of his hand, reminds us of our relation to
Him in " whom we live, and move, and have our being," and
claims our grateful adoration for his unwearied kindness towards
us. To accustom ourselves to recognize the hand of God in the
* Ray was an English naturalist, who, from a very humble origin, rose to
distinction. He was a fellow at Cambridge, but resigned on the restoration
of Charles II., from political considerations. He devoted the remainder of his
life to science and literature, and became the author of several works on Natu-
ral History and Natural Theology. The work referred to in the text is en-
titled " The Wisdom of God manifested in the Works of Creation.'' He died
1705, aet. 77. Many of his writings were afterwards collected and published
by Derham, of Oxford, who devoted his life to philosophy, humanity, and re-
ligion. He was author of no fewer than forty works, chiefly on pliilosophical
subjects. His " Astro-Theology," and his " Physico-Theology," published in
1714, are the volumes here referred to. He died 1735, set* 78.
10 INTRODUCTION
appearances of nature and the events of providence, to observe
the adaptation of parts to each other, and the combuiation of means
for the attainment of ends, is an exercise worthy of the high fac-
ulties which our Maker has bestowed upon us, and cannot fail to
promote both our mtellectual and moral improvement.
To whatever quarter we turn our eye, we find ample materials
for this study. Animate and inanimate nature are alike instruc-
tive ; and their relation to each other indicates that unity of coun-
sel which presided in the formation of the world. The atmosphere,
for example, though invisible, connects distant and dissimilar parts
of the system, and combmes them for the accomplishment of ben-
eficial purposes. Without it no animal could live, no plant grow,
no light shine, and no sound be heard; all would be sterility,
desolation, and silence. But the earth is fitted up as a pleasant
habitation for many sentient creatures. Man is its noblest in-
habitant ; and, in order to understand the plan of the Almighty
with regard to him, it is necessary to attend to his character and
condition. He is a rational, immortal, and accountable being, in a
course of education for a higher stage of existence. He is subject
to trials ; and tliose trials have been eagerly seized, and plausibly
urged, as inconsistent with the attributes of a benevolent Creator.
The structure of the earth, the qualities of some of the inferior
animals, and the vices and miseries of mankind, have been favor-
ite arguments among infidels. To meet and answer the skeptical
conclusions which have been drawn from these facts, is the design
of a considerable portion of the following work; but we trust its
limits will not be considered as exceeding its importance.
BOOK I.
THE ORIGIN OF THE WORLD
CHAPTER I.
THE GENERAL BELIEF OF MANKIND.
Crantz,* in his History of Greenland, tells us that a na-
tive of that country once addressed him in the following man-
ner : — " It is true we were ignorant heathens, and knew little
of God till you came. But you must not imagine that no
Greenlander thinks about those things. A kajak (a Green-
land boat), with all its tackle and implements, cannot exist
but by the labor of man. But the formation of the meanest
bird requires more skill than that of the best kajak ; and no
man can make a bird. There is still more skill required to
make a man : by whom then was he made? He proceeded
from his parents, and they from their parents. But some
must have been the first parents ; and whence did they pro-
ceed ? Common report says they grew out of the earth. If
so, why do not men grow out of the earth still ? And whence
came the earth itself, the sun, the moon, and the stars? Cer-
tainly there must be some Being who made all these things —
a Being more wise than the wisest man." Such was the
reasoning of the untutored inhabitant of the frozen coast of
Greenland; and in some such way have mankind always
reasoned ; for no truth has been more universally received
than the existence of God. " Who," says iElian,t " does not
* " The History of Greenland, containing a Description of the Country and its
Inhabitants, and particularly a Relation of the Mission carried on by the Unitas
Fratrum," London, 1787 — a well-executed and highly-interesting- work.
t For an account of this writer, and of those he here refers to, see Anthonys
Letnpriere's Classical Dictionary, to which the student should refer as often as
a classic author is named, unless already familiar.
12 THE GENERAL BELIEF OF MANKIND.
admire the wisdom of the barbarians, none of whom ever fell
into the atheistical absurdities of Eumenes, Diagoras, Epi-
curus, and other pliilosophers? No Indian, Celt, or Egyp-
tian, ever questioned whether there were Gods, or whether
they concerned themselves with the affairs of men,"
Some errors and some vices characterize society in par-
ticular stages of its progress, or when placed in peculiar cir-
cumstances; but atheism is never the error of society, in any
stage or in any circumstances whatsoever. It is the hypoth-
esis of a few thinly-scattered individuals in civilized nations,
at times when, from caprice, vanity, and ostentation, the
most obvious truths are denied, and the most whimsical and
pernicious paradoxes are zealously published and defended.
Belief in the existence of God has prevailed in every age, and
in every quarter of the world, and in every stage of society.
In this point the savage and the sage have agreed. The rude
hunter of the wilderness, and the polished inhabitant of the
magnificent city, between whom there is a vast difference of
habits, of knowledge, and of opinions, unite in the belief of
the existence of Deity, and with equal earnestness supplicate
his favor. On this subject, the great error has been, not the
denial of one God, but the belief of many : polytheism, how-
ever, has been a popular and poetical rather than a philosoph-
ical error. Men have entertained false notions of the nature
of God, but still they have believed in his existence; and the
erroneous conceptions which have accompanied this belief,
instead of attaching any discredit to the interesting truth,
tend to confirm it. They show that the existence of Deity is
so plainly engraven on the face of nature, and so consentane-
ous to the dictates of reason, and to the unperverted feelings
of the human mind, that it meets with a ready reception, even
when accompanied by absurdities.
Is it alleged that some tribes of human beings have been
found, among whom no traces of belief in the existence of
Deity were discoverable ? The allegation is questionable.
Of these tribes we know too little to speak with certainty of
their creed ; and even supposing the affirmation founded on
fact, it must not be forgotten, tliat those tribes are in a state
of extreme degradation ; and that they are not to be consid-
ered as denying the existence of God, but as being so brutal
as to have no opinion or belief on the subject. Belief in the
existence of Deity has all the authority which it can derive
from opinion : it has the general suffrage of the human race.
This is no slight presumption of the truth of the thing believ-
ed ; for where mankind, in all the different circumstances in
THE GENERAL BELIEF OF MANKIND. 13
which they have been placed, have generally agreed on any
great point relating to their common interest, their agreement
may fairly be interpreted as the dictate of their nature, and
consequently may be considered as having a rational claim
to general reception.
For the general belief in the existence of God, there must
be an adequate cause. Where shall we find such a cause
but in the appearances of the universe indicating a powerful,
wise, and good Being, the Creator of all things ? It is in
vain to attribute this belief to tradition. Tradition cannot
account for the fact ; for the question immediately occurs,
What was the origin of the tradition ? Besides, no mere
tradition could have been so widely and permanently dif-
fused : it could not have been preserved among all tribes of
men, and amidst all the vicissitudes of the human race. The
flimsy allegation which ascribes the origin of this belief to
the artifices of interested politicians, is unworthy of notice,
and may be dismissed with contempt. If general opinion
and belief, then, could place any truth beyond the reach of
controversy, the question concerning the being of God would,
long ere now, have been finally determined ; for on no other
points have mankind so generally agreed as in believing the
existence of God, and the immortality of the soul. But, al-
though belief in the existence of God has been general, yet
it has not been universal ; for the fool, says an ancient sage,
has said in his heart, There is no God,
The general belief of mankind is not, of itself, decisive
evidence of the truth of the thing believed. But, even as
evidence, it is not hastily to be dismissed from our minds,
unless we can point out, in a clear and satisfactory manner,
the causes of general error. Men have been led to the con-
clusion that there is a God by the appearances of the universe;
and if those appearances, when calmly and rationally con-
templated, justify the conclusion, then the opinion which it
establishes is entitled to a cordial reception by the candid
and serious inquirer after truth. It has, indeed, been at-
tempted, in different ways, to evade the conclusion now men-
tioned. It has been alleged by some, that the world is eter-
nal ; and others have been of opinion that the universe is a
casual production. These speculations claim some notice,
although they need not detain us long.
2
14 THE ETERNITY OP THE WORLD.
CHAPTER II.
THE ETERNITY OF THE WORLD.
The belief of the first men of whose opinions we have any
record, the progressive population of the world, the recent
origin of arts and sciences, ancient tradition and early histo-
ry, all militate against the eternity of the world. We are
not now speaking of inert matter only, but of the whole
system of things as we see it. For if it be admitted that
any part of the system is not eternal, then the whole hy-
pothesis falls to the ground. Either all is eternal, or we
have no reason to conclude that any part is so. But how
can the human race be eternal 1 I exist ; but I do not
necessarily exist, for once I was not. I did not bring myself
into existence. My parents were not their own creators :
and although I go back as far as the wing of imagination can
bear me, still I am as unable satisfactorily to account for the
existence of those whom I then find alive, as I am to account
for my own existence, or for the existence of those who have
lived at any intermediate period. By going backward, I re-
move the difficulty from one point to another ; but still, at
any given point, that difficulty is just the same as when it
first met me. According, however, to the constitution of
my nature, I cannot rest satisfied till I come either to a self-
created or to a necessarily-existing being. But a self-cre-
ated being involves a contradiction. It involves existence
and non-existence at the same time. I must, therefore, ar-
rive at a necessarily-existing, and, consequently, eternal
Being, as the Ji)'st cause of my own existence.
Thus I think, that, according to the constitution of my
nature, I must either believe in an eternal and intelligent
first cause, or in something at least equally incomprehensible,
and also altogether absurd. To talk of an infinite succession
of beings such as man, is merely an unphilosophical attempt
to push out of sight the difficulty of accounting for our first
formation ; but that difficulty it in no degree removes. For,
according to this hypothesis, how high soever we ascend, M'e
find no animated being but wliat has derived its existence
from a being of the same kind with itself Still we meet
with plain marks of design; but the designing cause we
have not found. Contrivance is obvious ; but the contriving
mind, which must have existed before the contrivance, we
have not discovered. It may be added, that the speculations
THE ETERNITY OF THE WORLD. 15
of those who have attempted to trace the vestiges of the hu-
man race to a very remote antiquity, have not been success-
ful. There is no reason to believe that men have existed on
the earth above six or seven thousand years.
Our globe has undergone some great revolutions. This
the structure of its parts, and the organic remains found
in it, clearly prove. But these revolutions were antecedent
to the race of Adam. The organic remains indicate no
traces of human beings. Neither reason nor revelation re-
quire us to believe, that the matter of this world was first
called into existence at the time of the creation mentioned in
the Jewish Scriptures. It may have existed before in differ-
ent forms, and may have undergone many changes. But
having been deranged and reduced to a chaotic mass by
some mighty catastrophe, it was then fitted up for the recep-
tion of new inhabitants and the exhibition of new scenes, and
was subjected to laws adapted to the new order of things.
Geological speculations can never be successfully employ-
ed in ascertaining the antiquity of the human race ; for how
shall we determine the state of matter when our globe was
first subjected to the operation of those laws under which it
now exists ? To apply the result of observations on the pres-
ent order of nature to a state of things anterior to, and per-
haps altogether different from, the present system, can lead to
no correct conclusions. In an investigation of this kind, the
very first point to be ascertained is, the state of matter when
the present system of laws began to operate ; a point which
no human industry or ingenuity can ascertain ; and without
which, any speculations on this subject, with a view to de-
termine the antiquity of the world, are mere illusions. Nay,
from the phenomena of the existing system, rash and hasty
conclusions may be drawn, which, although at first sight
plausible, will not bear the test of examination. The argu-
ment of Recupero, founded on the lavas of J^tna, might have
been considered decisive, had not the ruins of Herculaneum
demonstrated its fallacy.
The astronomical arguments which have been adduced on
this subject, are as deceitful and unsatisfactory as those of a
geological kind. Astronomy is incomparably the more ad-
vanced of the two sciences ; but the history of astronomy is
imperfect, and, on some points, very uncertain. Much has
been said of the high antiquity of the Indian astronomical
tables; but the eloquence of Bailly* and the science of
* A famous astronomer of Paris, author of the " History of Ancient cuid Mod-
em Astronomy," and of ■' Indian and Oriental Astronomy." and other vciluable
works. He was giiillotLncd during the reign of Terror in France, 1793.
16 THE ETERNITY OP THE WORLD.
Playfair have not succeeded in proving them to be founded
on observation. There is good reason to believe that they
were formed by computation. This is the opinion of La
Place, and it is strongly supported by the arguments of
Bentley.* The probability is that Indian science, instead
of being of high antiquity, was derived from the Arabians,
through the Greeks and Persians. According to Montucla,
the distinguished historian of science, the most ancient Chi-
nese observations are 2155 years before the Christian era;
being, according to Usher's f chronology, about 100 years be-
fore the birih of the patriarch Abraham. If the Fohii: of the
Chinese be the Noah of the Hebrew Scriptures, he may have
transported into that country the faint lights of antediluvian
science. §
An argument in favor of the high antiquity of the human
race has been founded on the zodiacs in the temples of La-
topolis and Tentyra, two ancient cities in the Upper Egypt.
This argument rests on a great astronomical fact — the pre-
cession of the equinoxes. The equinoctial and solstitial points
do not invariably occupy the same places in the ecliptic, but
have a retrograde motion of about 50^" in the year ; by which
they will accomplish a revolution in about 25,750 years.
Now, in the zodiac of Latopolis, the modern Esneh, Leo, we
are told, is represented as the last of the ascending signs ;
and it has been stated that a sphinx there represents the sun
at the summer solstice, just in the point where the last degree
of Leo meets the first degree of Virgo. But at present, the
colure of the summer solstice is in the first degree of Gemini ;
and therefore it has been inferred, that as the space between
the first degree of Gemini and the last degree of Leo, is to
the whole of the ecliptic, so must the period elapsed since
the construction of the zodiac of Latopolis be to 25,750
years. This inference would no doubt be consequentially
drawn, if it were proved that the above was a true explana-
tion of the zodiac of Latopolis, and that that zodiac was a
correct picture of the heavens at the time of its formation.
But on these points, doubts and suspicions crowd in upon us.
Plutarch and Macrobius would have been surprised and
* An eminent critic and divine, who, from an humble origin, raised himself to
high distinction. The work of his here referred to, is " Critical Observations on
John Malala's Chronolog-y." This superior scholar died, 1742, set. 80.
t Archbishop of Armagh, a distinguished scholar and divine, and author of a
most elaborate and invaluable work here referred to — ■" Annals of the Old and
New Testaments." His productions were various and numerous.
X Fohi was, according to the Chinese, the founder of their monarchy, about
20 years after the deluge. He is said to have reigned 115 years. His memory
is still revered in China.
i Wallace's Dissertation on Hindoo Astronomy.
THE ETERNITY OF THE WORLD. 17
amused to hear the sphinx spoken of as an emblem of the
sun. The Egyptians, it is true, worshipped that luminary
under different names and symbols ; but the sphinx was not
one of them. To imagine, then, that this symbol represents
the sun, is a gratuitous and unauthorized assumption.
Besides, there is no good reason to believe that the zodiac
of Latopolis was a correct picture of the heavens at the time
of its formation. Although we allow the highest praise to
the genius and industry of ancient astronomers, yet it cannot
be denied that their instruments were rude and clumsy, and
many of their observations inaccurate. They erred more
than half a degree in the latitude of Syene, a place at no
great distance from Latopolis ; and does this encourage the
presumption that they were qualified to give a correct delin-
eation of the zodiac ? The Egyptians were, moreover, very
vain, and boasted of a high antiquity. After the days of
Hipparchus, might they not give false representations of the
heavens, with a view to countenance and encourage this
vanity ? It may be remarked, that the decorations of the
Egyptian temples are not of the same antiquity with the tem-
ples themselves.
Farther, in the zodiac of Tentyra, the modern Dendera,
Leo is not represented as the last of the ascending, but as
the first of the descending signs. Does not this show that
one, if not both of those zodiacs, is posterior to the time of
Hipparchus ? For, if one of those zodiacs represents Leo as
the last of the ascending, and the other as the first of the de-
scending signs, was not this (supposing those zodiacs to be
correct) a demonstration that the solstitial, and consequently
the equinoctial, points are movable ? But this, as is well
known, was the grand discovery of Hipparchus, — a discovery
in no degree owing to the zodiacs of Latopolis and Tentyra,
but made by comparing his own observations with those of
Aristyllus and Timochares, about 150 years before. Hip-
parchus diligently inquired into all the observations of Chal-
dean and Egyptian astronomers ; but, although it is probable
that the former of those nations cultivated astronomy before
the latter, yet he could find no observations that had been
made at Babylon, previous to the reign of Nabonassar, 747
years before Christ. Berosus, a Chaldean, who lived about
300 years before the Christian era, knew of no monuments of
Chaldean astronomy more ancient than 480 years before his
own time ; and neither Hipparchus nor Ptolemy ever heard
of observations for 1903 years transmitted by Callisthenes to
Aristotle, about the year 331 before Christ. Simplicius, a
2*
18 THE ETERNITY OF THE WORLD.
peripatetic philosopher, and commentator on Aristotle, who
lived in the sixth century of the Christian era, makes men-
tion of such observations; but his authority and that of Por-
phyry, from whom he borrowed the story, are too modern to
be entitled to any regard. In short, these Egyptian zodiacs
were unknown to Hipparchus ; and if they had existed in his
time, would they have escaped the notice of that careful ob-
server and indefatigable inquirer ? Would he not have ap-
pealed to them, as well as to the observations of Aristyllus
and Timochares, in proof of the precession of the equinoxes ]
But it is needless to dwell longer on the subject, for there is
no evidence that the Egyptians had zodiacs, with our signs
and names, before the establishment of the Greeks in that
country.*
It has been said that all things sprung from necessity. Ne-
cessity, however, is not an agent, but the state or condition
of an agent ; and if they who use the word, in the sense
under consideration, attach any distinct conceptions to their
language, they must by it understand an agent acting neces-
sarily. But an agent acting necessarily is in reality no agent,
but merely an instrument in the hand of another. Such,
however, is the constitution of our nature, that we cannot rest
satisfied till we find a being operating, not by necessity, but
by will and choice. We must find an efficient cause that
had power to give, or not to give, existence to every crea-
ture. Necessity must result from something antecedent to
itself.
Some persons talk of appetency. What do they mean by
the word ? Is it chemical affinity ? If it be so, we understand
the signification of the language, but cannot conceive with
what propriety it is introduced on the present occasion. Has
chemical affinity ever formed an organized being? If any
person hazard the affirmative, let him produce an example :
this he cannot do. But appetency, it may be said, is an en-
deavor perpetually and imperceptibly working its effects
through a long succession of generations. We know that
the perennial mountain stream operates insensibly, and in
the course of ages hollows out a channel in the rock : but
we know of no such operation producing either a plant or an
animal.
To talk, as some have talked, of " Nature forminir the
first rudiments of organization, or spontaneous generations,
* Dr. Richardson, in his Travels, thinks it requires a good deal of iniag'ina-
tion to make the drawings in these temples zodiacs ; and some late interpreters
of the hieroglyphics make them the work of Roman emperors.
CHANCE. 19
which gradually, in a long series of ages, and under the mod-
ifying influence of different circumstances, appear in all the
organized forms which exist on the earth," is, to say the
least of it, something that requires explanation, or that cannot
be proved. What are we to understand by Nature 1 The
word may be used figuratively for the Author of Nature ; or
it may mean that order and constitution of things which the
Supreme Intelligence has established and maintains. In
this last sense, it is of the same import with the Laws of
Nature. Now, to talk of the laws of nature, to the exclusion
of an Intelligent Agent, is absurd. The very term law im-
plies such an agent. Law is not an agent. It is not en-
dowed with active power, and therefore cannot be a cause,
in the proper sense of the word. Law is the expression of
mind, and the rule according to which intelligence acts.
Without the agent the law is nothing. Without his agency
it never could have existed, for it merely expresses the manner
of his procedure.
Where is the proof that Nature has formed all her produc-
tions after long periods of time? Show us an example of
the first rudiments of organization, or a spontaneous genera-
tion. Show us any one of those rudiments in the first stage
of its progress, or undergoing any of those metamorphoses
through which it passes in advancing to a more perfect form.
At any assumed point, tell us what was its last form, and
what will be its next. Men and other animals are still such as
they have always been. But a hypothesis, countenanced by
no known fact in nature, has no legitimate claim to the char-
acter of philosophy, and may be fairly dismissed as a dream.
CHAPTER III.
Some persons have been of opinion that Chance was the
author of all things. What is Chance ? In common lan-
guage, by this word we express our ignorance of a cause, or
our want of intention. When we say a thing happened by
chance, we do not mean to describe chance as the cause of
the fact or event, but merely to say that we are ignorant of
the cause, or that the event happened without intention on
our part. The atheist, however, uses the word to the exclu-
sion of an intelligent and designing cause from the formation
20 . CHANCE.
of the universe. But how did chance produce either matter
or motion ? We may indeed be told that we are equally ig-
norant how an intelligent cause operated in the production of
those effects. It may be so. But by the introduction of
Deity, we assign an intelligent and sufficient cause for all
the phenomena, although we may not comprehend the man-
ner in which this cause operated in their production.
But although matter and motion be given, the difficulties
of the chance philosopher are little diminished. How do
chance, matter, and motion, produce an organized substance ?
How do they form a sentient being 1 How do they consti-
tute and maintain a system of animated and rational exist-
ence ? We confidently affirm that chance, matter, and mo-
tion, have never formed, and never will form, an organic
structure. Let all the men of the world employ the best ef-
forts of their reason and ingenuity in arranging and com-
bining matter in thousands and millions of different ways,
still they cannot produce a single plant or a single animal in
any other than the common way. By a proper adjustment
of the temperature, they may supply the incubation of the
bird ; but without the bird they cannot form the egg. Has
chance, then, produced that rich and beautiful variety of
vegetable, sentient, and rational nature, which adorns and
felicitates our earth ? and is Man, with all his reason and
science, unable to succeed in a single instance ? That un-
thinking and undesigning chance should produce intelligent
and designing beings, is a notion utterly unfit for gaining
admission into the human mind. The understanding of
mankind revolts from it. Their observation and experience
pronounce it untrue.
If the fortuitous concourse of atoms has formed all things —
if the different orders of sentient beings have sprung from
accidental combinations of matter — how happens it that al-
chemists and chemists, in all their mixtures for discovering
the philosopher's stone, or even for making phosphorus, have
not hit upon any new combination which produced a living
creature — a fly or a frog, a monkey or a man? Franklin
has taught us to rob the clouds of their lightning. Gulvani*
* The physiolog'ist of Rolog-na, and the famous discoverer of thai liranch of
electricity which bears his name — Galvanism. While preparing- brotli from
frogs for liis sick wife, he perceived the muscles of these animals violently con-
vulsed, by the touch of a dissecting- knife. He devoted much attention "to the
subject, and ascertained a great number of facts now well known, lie died
1798, aet. 61. The subject was further investigated and reduced to a more
perfect system by Volta, whose name is given to some modifications of galvanic
apparatus.
CHANCE. 21
and Volta have discovered combinations of matter by which,
even after the vital spark is extinguished, the animal frame
can be thrown into violent contortions. But no philosopher
has discovered a new process for forming any one living
creature. It is not unreasonable, however, to think that, if
the system of the chance philosophers had any foundation in
truth, new processes for making living creatures would long
ere now have been discovered ; and that he would have been
as well acquainted with receipts for forming animals of new
kinds, and also with different ways of making those that for-
merly existed, as we are with prescriptions for procuring
oxygen gas, or red fire.
If chance produced all things at first, why do we not see
chance opprating still ? If chance reared the world, why do
we never see it building a palace or a cottage ? If chance
made man, why does it never draw a portrait ? If all things
be the offspring of chance, how happens it that we do not
see new forms rising into life — animals unheard of before ap-
pearing in the world ; and all the fictions of the poets real-
ized ? How happens it that the casual concurrence of atoms
does not derange the system which it had formed, and alter
it in a thousand different ways ; that we never see a tree
changing into a man, nor a man dwindling into a mushroom ;
nor a human head united to a horse's neck ? Has chance
stumbled blindly on till it reared the beautiful and magnifi-
cent fabric of the Universe ; till, in every instance, through-
out the whole extent of nature, it hit upon the only possible
combinations from which such noble results could proceed,
and then forever ceased from its blind and stumbling opera-
tions 1 The supposition is too extravagant to gain admission,
for a moment, into a sober and rational mind. Indeed, the
whole hypothesis of the chance philosophers is rather to be
considered as an instance of the strange vagaries of the hu-
man imagination, than as a system capable, in any degree,
of bearing the test of reason, or satisfying the mind of the
serious and candid inquirer after truth.*
* The ancient chance and atomic philosophers were not agreed among-
selves. Some of them, as Epicurus, supposed the atoms, which, by their
theni-
itous concourse, formed all things, were inanimated: otiiers, as Democritus, be-
lieved them animated ; teaching a doctrine perhaps essentially the same with
the living organic particles of more recent times. Whence did these atoms de-
rive their annnation ?
22 DESIGN.
CHAPTER IV.
The opinion that the system of the world has been eternal
cannot bear examination ; and the hypothesis which ascribes
the origin of the universe to a casual concurrence of atoms
is utterly unsatisfactory. To arrange and organize matter,
as we see it arranged and organized in the fabric of the world,
is the work of mind ; for in the fabric of the world, we every
where see plain indications of design and contrivance. But
where there are design and contrivance there must be intel-
ligence. The intelligent being may act either mediately or
immediately ; but still he must exist and act. It may be as-
sumed as the dictate of our nature that every effect must have
an adequate cause. Such is the constitution of our minds,
that this is equally the conviction of the savage and the sage.
Wherever we see the fit combination of means in order to
the attainment of an end, we thence, invariably and without
hesitation, infer the existence of a designing cause.*
The possibility of discovering design by its effects has
been denied ; but there are some things which, by the very
constitution of our nature, we are compelled to believe. The
conviction is universal and irresistible, and can neither be
weakened by metaphysical fallacies, nor strengthened by
demonstration. The man who attempts to make me doubt
my own existence, or that of matter around me, may puzzle
my understanding by the subtilty of his reasoning, or dazzle
my imagination by the splendor of his eloquence ; but he
makes no impression on my belief The same is the case
with him who tells me that I can have no conception of active
poA\'er, or who labors to persuade me that I cannot discover
design in its effects. In spite of his distinctions and his
acuteness, my belief remains unchanged. He no more alters
the convictions of my mind than the color of my skin. For
* Without entering into any abstruse speculations about causation, we ma}--,
with Dr. Reid, remark, that, m common languag-e, cause is a very vague word,
and is appHed to any antecedent that is connected with the eflect. In Natural
Philosophy, when we speak of a cause, ^\g mean a law of nature from which the
phenomenon results. This is a pliysical cause ; it means the law or rule accord-
ing to which the efficient cause acts. But in Mental Philosophy, when we speak
of a cause, we mean an efficient cause ; that is, a bein^ with understanding,
will, and power, equal to the production of the effect. Nothing but an efficient
cause can give existence to that which had no existence before ; and, in a se-
ries, the efficieut cause must begin it, and establish the law by which it is car-
ried on.
DESIGN. 23
by attending to my own voluntary actions, I have a concep-
tion of active power. I am conscious of my own volitions,
and experience teaches me that these volitions are followed
by corresponding effects. Now, although I am unable to
understand or explain the manner in which mind acts upon
matter, yet I have all the evidence of which the case admits,
or which my nature requires, that my volitions and exertions
are the efficient cause of the effects produced. Wherever I
observe mutual adaptation, reciprocal dependence, the rela-
tion of parts to one another, and to a common end, there I
believe there has been design. The belief is invariable, and
it is certain. I am led to it by all my notions resulting from
consciousness, perception, testimony, and inference. Expe-
rience proves it invariably true.
Aristippus was shipwrecked on an island, where he and his
companions were apprehensive of being destroyed by barba-
rians, or torn to pieces by wild beasts. He perceived some
geometrical figures roughly sketched on the shore. " Let us
take courage, my friends," exclaimed he, " for I see the
vestiges of civilized men ! " The judgment which he formed
was instantaneous and certain. He never suspected that
those figures had been scratched by the talon of the eagle,
the paw of the lion, or even by the finger of a savage. If,
however, upon landing on an unknown shore, instead of a
few figures roughly sketched on the sand, we were to find a
geometrical treatise, such, for instance, as the first six books
of Euclid, with all the propositions, diagrams, and demon-
strations, would any one hesitate, for a single moment, to pro-
nounce that this was the work of some civilized and intelli-
gent being? No man capable of exercising reason would
pronounce it the work of chance. Would a voyager, land-
ing on an uninhabited island, and finding a magnificent and
splendid city, adorned with palaces, and temples, and towers,
imagine, because he saw no inhabitants, that the city had
risen up there without the operation of an intelligent agent?
No : a native of Oriental climes might pronounce it the work
of the genii ; but no person would imagine that it had come
there without a designing cause, a contriving mind.
It is by the inference of design from its effects, that, in
many instances, we form our opinions and regulate our con-
duct. How do we distinguish a man of sagacity from a
fool 1 a person of integrity from a villain ? Why do we pun-
ish the incendiary and the murderer? It is because our
opinions are formed and our conduct regulated by the infer-
ence of design from its effects. And before we cease to
S4 DESIGN.
think in this manner, we must divest ourselves of our nature ;
we must cease to be men. This principle, which is forced
upon us by the very constitution of our nature, and which is
confirmed by daily experience, we must carry along with us
when we survey the universe. We cannot divest ourselves
of it. If, therefore, in our examination of Nature, we per-
ceive combinations and relations which, according to all our
notions, indicate design, then we are irresistibly led to infer
the existence of a designing cause. This is no wanton hy-
pothesis, no gratuitous assumption. It flows from a princi-
ple deeply rooted in our nature, and which influences many
of our opinions, and much of our conduct.
It may, perhaps, be said that our knowledge of the design
of the artist in any piece of mechanism, or of the architect
in planning and building a palace or a city, arises from our
having seen other things of the same kind, and having been
informed of the cksign; but that the universe is something of
its own kind ; that it is one only ; that there is no fair analogy
between it and any work of man ; and tliat, therefore, we
cannot trace cksign in it. It is true, indeed, that the uni-
verse is but one. It consists, however, of many parts ; and
if, either in the whole, or in any of the parts, we perceive
those kinds of combinations and relations which, according
to the constitution of our nature, and all our observation and
experience, we consider as indicative of design, then we are
as irresistibly led to infer the existence of a designing cause
in the one case as in the other. And in proportion as the
universe, or any part of it, is superior to any efi'ect of human
contrivance and power, so the designing cause must, in the
same proportion at least, be superior to man in wisdom and
might. A watch is but one ; yet it consists of many different
parts, and plainly indicates design and contrivance. And
though there were only one watch in the world, no man in
the possession of his reason would pronounce it a casual
production.
The distance between the construction of any piece of
mechanism, and that of the vast system of the universe, is, in-
deed, immeasurably great. This, however, does not destroy
the analogy ; but it greatly weakens the impression of that
analogy on our minds. In comparing a mite with an ele-
phant, we, in some measure, lose sight of the comparison
by the immense disparity between the things compared.
This is much more the case in comparing the world with
a piece of mechanism. In order to see and feel the full
force of the comparison, there must be something like equali-
DESIGN. 25
ty between the things compared ; or, at least, we must be
able to compute the inequality. For it is only in proportion
as we are able distinctly to see, and accurately to compute
the difference between the things compared, that we feel the
force of the comparison. But the disparity between the uni-
verse and the effects of human ingenuity and power is in-
calculable, and therefore the argument from analogy does
not make a due impression on our mind.
We do not pretend fully to understand the designs of God
in his works; but to argue that we can know no part of those
designs, because we cannot comprehend them in all their
variety and extent, is attempting to draw a general conclu-
sion from partial premises. Because we do not fully under-
stand the economy of the comets, can it be logically inferred
that we know nothing of the solar system, or of the design
of the sun I Will any man assert that we are ignorant of
the design of the organs of sense, because we cannot explain
how the nerves, connected with different organs, produce
different sensations? Such conclusions, drawn from such
premises, are not entitled to much consideration. To state
them plainly is a sufficient refutation. The man who denies
that it is any part of the design of the sun to enlighten, warm,
and fertilize the earth ; or of the eye to see, and of the ear
to hear ; or who seriously maintains that, from the effects, we
cannot fairly infer such a design, — is unquestionably under
the influence of very powerful prejudices. In these instances
the relations are obvious; and every unperverted mind must
be fully satisfied that it is the design of the sun to communi-
cate light and heat to the earth — of the eye to see, and of
the ear to hear. These we may confidently assume as de-
signs of the Deity ; and may reason concerning the fitness
of the means to accomplish the ends, and, from that fitness,
may form our estimate of the attributes of the Supreme In-
telligence.
In inquiring into the designs of the Creator in his works,
there is no presumption. Our inquiries ought to be conduct-
ed with profound reverence for the Being who formed and
who upholds the universe; and, when so conducted, instead
of being indications of impiety or audacity, they are expres-
sions of admiration and homage. The essence of Deity is
not the object of our senses; but he exhibits himself to us in
his works, and in these he invites us to contemplate the
proofs of his existence and the glory of his perfections. To
trace the hand of the Almighty in the fabric of the universe,
is a suitable exercise of the noble faculties with which he
3
/CO DESIGN.
has endowed us : it is a tribute of homage to Him who made
us ; and must be the means of much improvement and hap-
piness to ourselves. " The works of the Lord are great,
sought out of all them that have pleasure therein."*
* The a priori argument I have not introduced, because, to my mind, it has
never appeared very satisfactory. Dr. Reid (Intell. Powers, p. 314, 4to ed.)
says, " Sir Isaac Newton thought that the Deity, by existing every where, cuid
at all times, constitutes time and space, immensity and eternity. This proba-
bly suggested to his great friend Dr. Clarke, what he calls the argument a priori
for the existence of an immense and eternal Being. Space and time, he thought,
are only abstract or partial conceptions of an immensity and eternity which
forces itself upon our belief. And as immensity and eternity are not substances,
they must be the attributes of a Being who is necessarily immense and eternal.
These are the speculations of men of superior genius. But whether they be as
solid as they are sublime, or whether they be tiie wanderings of imagination in
a region beyond the limits of human understanding, I am unable to determine."
Professor Dugald Stewart, in his Dissertation on the Progress of Metaphysical,
Ethical, and Political Philosophy, in the Encyclopedia Britannica, Part II. p.
65, says, •' How far the peculiar cast of Newton's genius qualified him for pros-
ecuting successfully the study of mind, he has not afforded us sufficient data for
judging; but such was the admiration with which his transcendent powers as a
mathematician and natural philosopher were universally regarded, that the
slightest of his hints on other subjects have been eagerly seized upon as indis-
putable axioms, though sometimes with little other evidence in their favor but
the supposed sanction of his authority. The part of his works, however, which
chiefly led me to connect his name with that of Clarke, is a passage in the
Scholium annexed to his Pnncipia, which may be considered as the germ of the
celebrated argument a priori for the existence of God, which is commonly,
though I apprehend not justly, regarded as the most important of all Clarke's
contributions to metaphysical philosophy. I shall quote the passage in New-
ton's own words, to the oracular conciseness of which no English version can do
justice.
" ' ^Eternus est et infinitus, omnipotens et omnisciens ; id est, durat ab aeter-
no in aeternum, et adest ab infinito in infinitum. Non est eeternitas et infinitas,
sed a?ternus et infinitus 5 non est duratio et spatium, sed durat et adest. Durat
semper et adest ubique, el existendo semper et ubique durationem et spatium
conslituit.' Proceeding on these principles, Dr. Clarke argued, that as immen-
sity and eternity (which force themselves irresistibly on our belief as necessary
existencies, or, in other words, as existencies of which the annihilation is impos-
sible) are not S7ibstances, but attributes, the immense and eternal Bowig, whose
attributes they are, must exist of necessity also. The existence of God, there-
fore, according to Clarke, is a truth that follows with demonstrative evidence
from those conceptions of space and time which are inseparable from the hu-
man mind."
After quoting the passage from Dr. Reid, cited at the beginning of this note,
Mr. Stewart proceeds and says, "After this candid acknowledgment from Dr.
Reid, I need not be ashamed to confess my own doubts and difficulties on the
same ciuestion."
Dr. Thomas BrowTi, in his 92d lecture, says, "If the world had been without
any of its present adaptation of parts to parts, only a mass of matter, irregular
in form, and quiescent, — and if we could conceive ourselves, with all our facul-
ties as vigorous as now, contemplating such an irregular and quiescent mass,
without any thought of the order displayed in our own mental frame, — I am far
from contending that, in such circumstances, with nothing before us that could
be considered as indicative of a particular design, we should have been led to
tlic conception of a Creator. On the contrary, I conceive the abstract argu-
ments which have been adduced to show ihat it is impossible for matter to have
existed from eternity, — by reasonings on what has been termed necessary exist-
ence, and the incompatibility of this necessary existence with the qualities of
matter,-— to be relics of the mere verbal logic of the schools, as little capable of
DESIGN. 27
producing' conviction as any of the wildest and most absurd of the technical
scholastic reasonings on the properties, or supposed properties, of entity and
nonentit]j. Eternal existence, the existence of that which never had a begin-
ning, must always be beyond our distinct comprehension, lohatever the eternal
object may be, material or mental, — and as much beyond our comprehension
in the one case as in the other, though it is not impossible for us to doubt that
some being, material or mental, must have been eternal, ifamj thinor exists."
Sir James Mackintosh, in his Dissertation on the Progress of Ethical Philoso-
phy, in the seventh edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, speaking of Dr.
Clarke, says, " Roused by the prevalence of the doctrines of Spinoza and
Hobbes, he endeavored to demonstrate the being and attributes of God, from
a few axioms and definitions, in the manner of geometry ; an attempt in which,
with all his powers of argument, it must be owned that he is compelled some-
times tacitly to assume what the laws of reasoning required him to prove 5 and
that, on the whole, his failure may be regarded as a proof that such a mode of
argument is beyond the faculties of man."
In a note. Sir James adds, " This admirable person had so much candor as
in effect to own his failure, and to recur to those other arguments in support of
this great truth, which have in all ages satisfied the most elevated minds. In
Proposition VIII. (Being and Attributes of God, p. 47), which affirms that the
first cause must be ' intelligent' (where, as he truly states, ' lies the main ques-
tion between us and the atheists '), he owns, that the proposition Ccuinot be de-
monstrated strictly and properly a priori."
Having mentioned these high authorities, I shall add nothing of my own re-
specting the argument a priori.
BOOK 11.
EVIDENCES OF DESIGN IN NATURE
CHAPTER I.
GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
We shall now proceed to consider some of the evidences
of design in the fabric of nature; and, instead of selecting a
few insulated examples from particular departments of the
world, shall take a rapid but wide survey of the universe, and
endeavor to show that evidences of design occur every where
throughout the vast system. Such evidences appear, not
merely in a few thinly-scattered phenomena of a dubious
aspect, pressed into the service, and constrained to give a
reluctant and suspicious testimony, but they abound in every
province of nature, and, upon many occasions, force them-
selves upon the notice even of the careless observer. Such
a general survey is not necessary to prove the being of God ;
but it will serve to familiarize this great truth to our imagina-
tion, and accustom us to associate the existence and perfec-
tions of Deity with the contemplations of his works. More-
over, we may often have occasion to remark the indications
of wisdom and goodness which appear in every department
of nature ; and the frequent recurrence of these indications
cannot fail to make a deep impression on the mind, and to
fortify it against objections to those attributes of the Creator.
Before entering, however, upon this extensive survey, it is
proper to premise,
1. That, although we may not understand every phenome-
non, or be able to point out design in every appearance of
nature, yet this can form no objection against what we are
able to explain. Our ability to prove the existence and illus-
trate the perfections of Deity from the fabric of the universe.
GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 29
will be commensurate with our knowledge of creation. We
may be able to show design in many phenomena ; but beings
of greater knowledge may show wisdom and goodness in
many more, perhaps even in those very instances which to
us appear most perplexing and unaccountable. Hence we
may see the folly of condemning what we do not understand.
Perceiving so many indications of wise and benevolent con-
trivance every where around us, we ought rather to distrust
our own knowledge than to deny the existence of wisdom
and goodness in any particular instance. The celebrated
Alphonsus X., king of Leon and Castile, was well acquainted
with the astronomical doctrines of Ptolemy, but had no con-
ception of the true principles of the solar system. Proud,
however, of his attainments, and misled by his imaginary
science, he is said to have exclaimed, that if he had been of
God's council he would have instructed him better in the
construction of the universe. What the royal astronomer
ridiculed was not the work of Deity, but the fantom created
by his own ignorance. His example should operate as a
caution to us.
2. Although I err in my account of one phenomenon, and
although my argument, in so far as it depends on that erro-
neous account, must fall to the ground, yet this in no degree
invalidates arguments founded on facts and appearances cor-
rectly stated. It is not here as in the demonstration of a geo-
metrical theorem, where, if one link be broken, the demon-
stration fails. In the present case, the reasoning upon every
fact, or combination of facts, is separate and independent ;
and, therefore, although, in any one instance, the statement
of fact may be incorrect, and the argument, in so far as it
depends on that incorrect statement, unsound, yet other facts
and arguments founded on them stand in full force. Every
fact, or every combination of facts, may be considered inde-
pendently, in the great mass of evidence ; and in proportion
as we bring forward appearances indicative of design, we
accumulate arguments in proof of the existence of a design-
ing cause. If we can show a harmonious combination of all
the phenomena, in order to the construction of one whole,
then the conclusion which results from the contemplation of
particular parts will appear with the most attractive lustre
and commanding majesty.
3*
30 THE HUMAN EYE.
CHAPTER 11.
THE HUMAN EYE.
In glancing at the evidence of design in nature, I shall
first select a particular instance, and explain it at considera-
ble length, in order that the force of the evidence may be
more fully felt. The instance which I select for this pur-
pose is the Human Eye [PL I. fig. 2, 3, 4] ; and in review-
ing this organ, I shall give a description of it, which, though
not minute enough for the anatomist, may suffice for an
exhibition of its construction and excellence as an optical
instrument.
The Eye^ which communicates so much beauty and viva-
city to the human countenance, is a small but admirable in-
strument of vision formed in the expansion of the optic nerve.
Its position, construction, and the provision made for its ad-
justment and preservation, plainly indicate a designing cause.
It is placed in the upper part of the face, occupying a com-
manding station ; and, like a sentinel posted on a hill, per-
ceiving, at a single glance, every thing around. It is lodged
in a strong-hold, or bony cavity, called its or-hit ; and is sur-
rounded by several parts, which serve either to protect it
from injury, to assist and facilitate its motions, or to supply
it with moisture. The optic nerves proceed separately from
the brain : they afterwards unite ; then separate again, and
each of them enters the orbit, on the nasal side, and forms
the integuments of the eye, so that the coats or tunics of the
eye are expansions of the optic nerve, or at least membranes
intimately adhering to it. The optic nerve has two coats,
one above the other, enclosing its medullary substance. The
exterior coat is named the cJura mater ; the interior the pia
mater. The outer coat of the eye, called the sclerotica, is a
continuation and expansion of the dura mater, and is white
and opaque, excepting the anterior part, called the cornea,
which, unlike the part behind, is transparent, and is fixed in
the sclerotica, like the glass of a watch in its case.
The Clwroides, which lines the sclerotica, may be con-
sidered as a production of the pia mater. Its anterior part,
behind the cornea, but not close to it, is of a very different
structure from its posterior part ; and, on account of the va-
riety of its colors, has been named the L'is. [PI. I. fig. 5, 6.]
The Iris, or anterior part of the choroides, is an assemblage
of muscular fibres ; some of them tending, like the radii of a
THE HUMAN EYE. 31
circle, towards its centre, and others forming a number of
concentric circles round the same centre. In the middle of
the iris is a perforation known by the name of the pupil,
which is diminished by the contraction of the circular fibres
of the iris, when a very luminous object is presented to the
eye, and dilated by the contraction of the radial fibres, for
the admission of a greater number of rays in a faint light.
Even they who do not admit the fibrous structure and mus-
cularity of the iris, cannot deny its contractibility, which they
ascribe to its sympathy with the retina.
At the anterior border of the choroides, there is a ring of
sensible thickness, named the ciliary ligament, from which
proceed numerous productions called ciliary processes.
The posterior surface of the iris, the ciliary processes, and
part of the choroides, are spread over with a black mucus,
which absorbs the lateral rays, and contributes to distinct
vision. The medullary portion of the optic nerve, in dila-
ting, forms a white, and very thin membrane, or congeries of
nervous terminations, applied upon the choroides, and named
the retina ; upon which, according to the general opinion,
the object is painted. In these coats or tunics are set three
transparent humors or lenses, of different refractive powers ;
and the whole forms the organ of vision in the human body.
The foremost of the humors is the aqueous. It is placed
immediately beliind the cornea, and occupies the whole
space between it and the crystalline humor, both before and
behind the iris. The aqueous humor has the transparency
of the purest water, but it is not altogether so liquid. Its
specific gravity is rather greater than that of water. It has
been remarked that, notwithstanding the great fluidity of the
aqueous humor, and its exposure to the cold, it does not
freeze. Behind the aqueous humor is placed a double con-
vex lens, having its axis corresponding with the centre of the
pupil. It is somewhat more convex towards the circumfer-
ence of the eye than in front. It is called the crystalline
humor, and appears to be composed of a great number of
very thin laminas, and of extremely minute fibres, very trans-
parent, and closely united together. It is tolerably solid,
and both its specific gravity and refractive power are greater
than those of either of the other two humors of the eye. It
is attached to the ciliary ligament, by means of the fibres of
which it can probably be altered in a small degree in position,
and perhaps in figure also. The crystalline is placed behind
the aqueous, and in front of the vitreous humor, in which last
it is set like a jewel in a ring. The vitreous humor, situate at
32 THE HUMAN EYE.
the back part of the socket, occupies about three fourths of
the globe of the eye. It is of the consistence of a jelly, color-
less, and of great transparency. Its specific gravity is little
more than that of the aqueous humor; therefore, as, generally
speaking, the refractive powers of different mediums are as
their densities, the refractive powers of these two humors are
not very different. Each of the humors is contained within its
own membrane, which is very delicate, and equally transparent
with the humor itself At the back of the whole is the retina.
The eye, thus formed, is provided with muscles which
move it in all directions, and accommodate its focal dis-
tance to different objects, in a degree of perfection incom-
parably superior to the mechanism of the most ingeniously
adjusted telescope. By the action of six muscles, it has not
only the horizontal and vertical motions, but it can be turned
to any oblique angle with the rapidity of lightning. The
eyeball is much less than the cavity in which it is lodged ;
but the interval is filled up with cellular substance, furnish-
ing a soft and warm bed to the eye, and facilitating its mo-
tions. Besides, by means of the lachrymal gland [PI. III.
fig. 1.] situate between the ball of the eye and the upper vault
of the orbit, on the temporal side, the eye is supplied with a
perpetual fountain for moistening and keeping it clean ; the
superfluous moisture passes through a perforation into the
nostrils, and is drained off. The eyelids, in connection with
the bony cavity in which the ball is lodged, form a soft and
strong covering to the eye, and can be instantaneously
put on or withdrawn. The eyelashes serve as a protection
against insects and minute bodies floating in the air : they
also give warning of approaching danger, and help to guard
against it ; and they moderate the rays of light in their pas-
sage to the eye.
Observe, then, what a variety of circumstances, and what
an exact combination and nice adjustment of these circum-
stances, there must be, in order to distinct vision ; and after
attentively considering the whole, nothing, I think, but blind
stupidity or obstinate perversity can deny design and skilful
contrivance in the structure of the eye. How happens it
that the cornea is transparent, and not opaque like the sclero-
tica, of which it is the continuation? If it were opaque,
there would be no vision ; and I see no way of accounting for
its transparency, but by acknowledging a wise designing
cause. How shall we account for the transparent part being
placed in front, and not towards the bottom of the socket?
Light does not give transparency to the cornea, nor does the
THE HUMAN EYE. 33
cornea give existence to light ; they exist independently of
each other ; yet, between the two, there is an unquestionable
relation, as much so as between the window and the room,
the lire-place and the chimney, the lock and the key.
How happens it that the iris is of a different structure from
the rest of the choroides, of which it is apparently the con-
tinuation ? — that the iris has the perforation called the pupil,
and that it is not a continuous envelope like the cornea? — •
that the centre of the pupil corresponds with the axis of the
crystalline lens ? — and that the iris has a power of contrac-
tion and dilatation, either lessening or enlarging the pupil ac-
cording to circumstances? A change in any of those con-
ditions would be fatal or highly injurious to vision. The
light does not create the pupil, yet the pupil is formed for the
admission of light. Light does not confer on the iris the
power of contraction or dilatation ; yet the pupil has the power
of adjusting itself to the quantity of light. If it be alleged
that the light irritates the retina, and by that means occasions
the contraction, still we may inquire, Who so organized the
pupil that it should be affected in such a manner by the ac-
tion of light? who contrived the mechanism by which the
changes in the size of the pupil are affected? How shall
we account for the ciliary ligament and its processes, and the
four straight muscles, but by resorting to a wise designing
cause, which has in this way provided for the adjustment of
the crystalline lens, and for rendering the cornea more or less
prominent? [PI. I. fig. 7.] Who provided the retina, like a
fine white canvass, to receive the picture ? How shall we
account for lenses of different refractive powers to correct
the chromatic aberration? Light did not create these several
lenses, for they were created ere light shone upon them; nor
did these lenses establish the law by which rays of light are
refracted from the straight line in passing obliquely through
mediums of different densities, and by which some of the
rays of the solar beam are more refrangible than others ; yet
the lenses of the eye are accurately adapted to the optical fact
or law. How happens it that the lenses are so exactly ad-
justed that the rays form a distinct picture on the retina?
If the configuration or refractive powers of the lenses had
been such as to bring the rays to a focus sooner, or if the
retina had been placed more forward, or at the smallest dis-
tance farther back in the socket ; in any of these cases, vision
would have been indistinct. But the place of the retina is
exactly adjusted to the focal distance of the lenses.
By fixing a lens in a hole of the window-shutter of a dark-
34 THE HUMAN EYE.
ened room, we see an inverted picture of external objects,
formed on a white sheet of paper, behind the lens. But, in
order to have the picture distinct, we must move the paper
backwards and forwards till we find the exact focal distance.
The retina, which corresponds to the sheet of paper, is placed
exactly at the due distance.
The eye is convex, and not a plane. If it had been a plane,
the field of vision must have been extremely limited. But
the most advantageous of all forms is adopted ; and I know
of no rational way of accounting for this, but by having re-
course to a designing cause.
But this is not all. In diflferent species of animals, there
is a striking and beautiful adaptation of parts of the eye to
the peculiarities of each, in respect to modes of living and
procuring their sustenance. Birds, for example, in general,
procure their food by means of their beak ■ hence, from the
nearness with which their food is brought to the eye, they
need the power of seeing distinctly very near objects. Again,
from their great elevation as well as velocity of flight, the
power of seeing at great distances, and with distinctness, is
also necessary. There are accordingly two peculiarities in
the eyes of birds, by which distinct vision in these opposite
circumstances is eflfected. The one is a bony, yet, general-
ly, a flexible hoop [PL II. fig. 1, 2.], surrounding the broadest
part of the eye, which, confining the action of the muscles to
that part, increases the effect of their lateral pressure upon
the orb, by which pressure its axis is elongated, and thus
very near objects are plainly seen. The other peculiarity is,
an additional muscle, called the marsiipium [PI. II, fig. 3,
4, 6.], for the purpose of drawing back the crystalline lens,
as occasion requires, to fit the eye for the perception of dis-
tant objects. By these means, the eyes of birds are adjusted
to near and remote objects far more readily than those of
other animals.
The eyes of fishes, also, exhibit peculiarities of structure
adapted to their state and element. In the eyes of these an-
imals, the crystalline lens is perfectly spherical ; thus adapt-
ed only to near objects [PL I. fig. 1.], their indolent habits
requiring this peculiar adjustment. The muscular conforma-
tion of the eye is calculated only for flattening it. The iris of
fishes does not contract, it being unnecessary from the dimin-
ished quantity of light in the element in which they live.
In the Eel [PL II. fig. 5.], which inhabits the bottom of
ponds, there is placed, a little distance above the eye, a horny,
transparent covering, which effectually protects this delicate
THE HUMAN EYE. 35
organ from injury from the sand and gravel in which it is
often found.
Thus, in comparing the eyes of different animals, we see
but one general design, and yet that plan benevolently vary-
ing with the exigences of state and habits. How striking, in
all this, is the evidence of design !
In order, however, to have a fuller view of the subject, we
shall compare the eye, in some particulars, with a telescope,
and give a more copious illustration of some things already
mentioned.
I. Let us consider the eye as an achromatic instrument.
Light moves in straight lines ; but in passing obliquely out
of one medium into another of different density, it is refract-
ed towards the perpendicular in passing into a denser medi-
um, and from it in passing into a medium more rare. Be-
sides, the white light issuing from the sun is not a homoge-
neous fluid, but consists of several differently-colored rays ;
and these rays are not equally refrangible, the red being the
least refrangible, and the violet the most so. Unless, howev-
er, these refractions be corrected, there cannot be distinct
and colorless vision. Such is the fact in nature. How,
then, is the matter managed in the eye ? The refractions
are corrected by lenses of different refractive powers, so that
all the rays meet in a focus on the retina, and there delineate
a distinct and achromatic image of the object from which the
rays proceed. How is the difficulty managed in the tele-
scope ? This was long a desideratum in natural science, and
exercised the genius and industry of the most distinguished
philosophers.
The telescope, by the prismatic action of the lenses of
which it was composed, gave the object a colored appearance
about the edges, and consequently presented an indistinct
image. This was a great defect ; and it was of much impor-
tance to remedy it. The celebrated Mr. James Gregory*
perceived that the eye had the same difficulty to encounter.
How, he asked, is it surmounted there? He perceived that
this was accomplished by a combination of lenses of different
refractive powers. Hence that ingenious philosopher was
led to throw out a hint concerning the construction of what
has since been called the achromatic telescope. The sub-
ject employed the great powers of Newton, and the vigorous
* A Scotch mathematician, born and educated in Aberdeen. He was the in-
ventor of the reflectinjs;- or catoptric telescope, and the burning- concave mirror.
He had the honor of disputing, but on amicable terms, with Sir Isaac Newton,
on the comparative excellence of the dioptric and catoptric telescope. He died
at the age of 36, in 1675.
36
THE HUMAN EYE.
mind of Euler,* and the execution of the plan has conferred
a lasting celebrity on the name of DoUond.t Here, then, we
find Gregory, Newton, Euler, Dollond, names of high distinc-
tion (and many more might be mentioned), turning their
minds to the formation of the achromatic telescope, acknowl-
edging the structure of the eye to be their guide, and yet
employing much ingenuity, and performing many experi-
ments, ere the last of them happily succeeded in accomplish-
ing the object in view. Now, the cases under consideration
are precisely parallel : the difficulty to be surmounted is the
same. Shall we, then, admit design and contrivance in the
one case, and deny them in the other ? Shall we admit that
Gregory, Newton, Euler, and Dollond, were designnig and
contriving beings, in their schemes and eiforts to construct
an achromatic telescope : and yet contend that the eye, which
was their model, was formed without design and contrivance ?
Shall we admit design and contrivance in the imitation, and
yet deny them in the pattern 1 This were absurd in the ex-
treme. In the structure of the eye, design and contrivance
are obvious, and that organ could not have been formed but
by a designing and contriving Being.
II, In using a telescope, — for instance, a three feet refractor,
— if we wish to try the powers of the instrument in reading a
book, we may have distinct vision at the distance of twenty or
twenty-five yards. But, if we turn the telescope, in the same
state in which we have been reading the book, upon an ob-
ject a mile or two distant, we see nothing. In order to have
distinct vision, we must, either by managing the tube with
our hand, or by the action of a screw, adjust the instrument
to the new distance. In what way soever we perform the
operation, it requires time and observation to find the focus.
But the eye adjusts itself in a moment, whether the object
which we look at be six inches from it, or six thousand times
that distance. Now, is there design and contrivance in
forming the adjusting screws of the telescope to fit it to the
focal distance ? No man in his senses denies it. How,
then, can any man in his senses deny design and contrivance
in the mechanism of the eye, by which the same end is ac-
complished ; and not only accomplished, but accomplished
in a far more easy and expeditious manner than in the tel-
escope ? For no degree of practice or dexterity in the use
*^ A French mathematician, born at Basil, and died at Berlin, 1783, set. 7G.
He was a man of the most astonishing powers of mind, and at the same time be-
loved for his many social virtues, and revered for his piety.
+ A London optician. To him belongs the honor of havmg invented ihe
achromatic telescope.
THE HUMAN EYE. 37
of the instrument will enable us to adjust its focus to differ-
ent distances with the same ease and quickness as we do in
the eye. If design and contrivance be admitted in the one
case, they cannot be denied in the other, but by obstinate
and irrational perversity.
III. The form of the eye indicates a wise designing
cause. It is of a spherical figure ; and by this figure several
important ends are answered far better than they could have
been by any other. It affords the most convenient lodgment
for the humors of the eye, and gives the largest field of vision.
If the front of the eye had been a flat surface, there could
have been no distinct vision, because all the parts of it could
not have been at the due focal distance from the lenses : some
parts must have been too near, or some too far off. Besides,
it is obvious that the spherical figure of the eye is best adapt-
ed for motion in all directions. We may further remark,
that the optic nerve enters the eye, not at the bottom of the
socket, but on the nasal side of it. This contributes to dis-
tinct vision, and may fairly be considered as an evidence
of design.
IV. The eye occupies a most commanding position, and
surveys with ease every thing around. It could have been
stationed in no other part of the body with equal advantage.
If it had been placed in the occiput, or back part of the head,
the form and articulation of the arms and legs would not
have harmonized with it ; but, at present, they are fitted for
acting in the direction in which the eye sees. The eyes and
the limbs are admirably adapted to each other. They exhibit
a striking instance of relation and prospective contrivance.
Indeed, relation and prospective contrivance meet us in al-
most every department of nature, whether we attend to the
structure of animals or to the combinations and adjustments
of the different parts of the universe. Thus the eye occupies
its due place in the body, as part of one harmonious whole,
and all the members are fitted for cooperating with it. It is
stationed near the brain, and communicates with that great
source of sensation and motion by means of the optic nerve.
V. We have an evidence, not of design only, but of good-
ness also, in the number of the eyes. They are two. In
this way we can take in a larger angle than if we had one
eye only; and although one be injured, we are not entirely
deprived of the use of this cheering organ. And we may
observe the consummate skill of Him who formed the eye, in
this circumstance, that, although an object be seen with both
eyes, yet it appears single, perhaps because painted on the
4
38 THE HUMAN EYE.
corresponding part of each retina, or perhaps because tlie
nerves unite ; but in what manner soever we account for it,
the fact is certain ; and the argument resuhing from it is not
affected by any doubts respecting the manner in which it is
accomplished. AUhough the picture of the object is invert-
ed on the retina, yet we see objects erect ; and this, I ap-
prehend, happens by a law of our nature antecedent to expe-
rience. The rays of light pass to the retina on optical prin-
ciples ; but we know not in what way impressions are made
on the mind. It may be added, that the eyeball is of a
commodious size, serving the purposes of distinct vision,
and yet not exposing a large surface to the injuries to which
such a delicate organ is liable. All the objects in the large
field which the eye takes in are accurately represented on
the retina. The whole scenery of some miles is painted on
a canvass of an inch diameter ; and yet how distinct and
correct is the picture ! This circumstance bears a strong
testimony, not only to the existence, but also to the wisdom
and goodness, of the Creator.
VI. The motions of the eye cannot fail to attract the notice
of every attentive observer and inquirer. These motions are
performed by the action of six muscles, four of v.hich are
straight, and two obhque. [PI. V.] The straight muscles
elevate or depress the eye, turn it in towards the nose, or out
towards the temple ; the oblique muscles perform the more
complex motions. The origin and insertion of those muscles,
and their comparative strength, are fitted with the most con-
summate mechanical skill for turning the eye in all direc-
tions, with the utmost ease and rapidity ; and if the nice
adaptation of means to the accomplishment of an end be a
proof of design, the muscles of the eye demonstrate the ex-
istence of a designing cause.
VII. Nor should we pass unnoticed that most delicate and
exquisite contrivance, the nictitating membrane, discovered
in the eyes of birds, and of many quadrupeds. [PL III. fig.
2, 3, 4, 5.] Its function is to moisten the eye, to protect it
from external injuries, and yet not entirely to exclude the
light when covering the pupil. How compact its folds, as it
lies unfelt in the outer angle of the eye, and capable, in an
instant, of being spread out ! Its own elasticity — a peculiar-
ity of this muscle — forces it into its hiding-place as soon as
the force is removed which expands it. This membrane is
connected with a muscle in the back part of the eye, by a
very small tendon, so as not to obstruct the light sensibly,
even when it passes over the pupil. By the voluntary contrac-
THE HUMAN EYE. • 39
tion of this muscle the membrane is drawn over the front of
the eye ; and when this contraction ceases, the elasticity
alone of the membrane brings it back again to its usual
position.
The muscle which is attached to the nictitating membrane
is connected with a very singular piece of mechanism. It
passes through a loop formed by another muscle, so as to pos-
sess all the mechanical convenience of the movable pulley,
at the same time allowing a greater length to the muscle than
could be admitted into the space allotted to it in the back
part of the eye. [PL V.]
From this cursory view of the eye, it obviously appears to
be an organ of most exquisite workmanship. Its numerous
parts are adapted to each other with the most skilful con-
trivance and minute precision, and the whole serves the no-
blest and most beneficial purposes. Take the eye altogether,
— its position ; its ingenious and accurate construction as an
instrument of vision ; its instantaneous adjustment of itself to
different distances ; its capacity of accommodating itself to dif-
ferent degrees of light ; the ease, rapidity, and variety of its
motions ; and the provision made for keeping it clean and
safe, — and it plainly demonstrates the existence of an intelli-
gent first cause. I hesitate not to affirm, that, although there
were not another mark of design in the universe, yet the ap-
pearance of even a single eye would be an irrefragable evi-
dence of a designing cause ; for nothing that we either see
or know ; nothing in our own experience, or in the authenti-
cated testimony of others ; nothing resulting from conscious-
ness, perception, or reasoning, gives us the least ground for
believing that even a single eye could be formed in millions
of ages, by any casual combinations of matter. Every eye,
then, bears a strong testimony to the existence of a wise
designing cause.
But supposing that one eye might have been produced by
casual combinations, how shall we account for the appear-
ance of a second? There is just as much difficulty in ac-
counting for the second as for the first, and as much difficul-
ty in accounting for the third as for the second, and so on
/or every eye that is in the universe ; for the existence of one
eye is neither a necessary nor a physical cause of the exist-
ence of another, and it is not in the nature of chance to es-
tablish a series. There are, then, as many distinct witnesses
of the existence of an intelligent first cause as there are
eyes in the world. And let me add, that it is a most unphi-
losophical subterfuge to allege that one being with eyes has
40 THE HUMAN EYE.
produced another being with eyes, and that the series has
gone on from eternity. This can be considered only as an
acknowledgment, on the part of the atheist, that he knows
nothing of the matter, and as a silly attempt to plunge into
darkness and conceal himself from pursuit. But, go where
he will, he cannot escape from the difficulty. Every step
that he retires, it still presses upon him. It pursues him
through eternity, and every moment treads on his heels, with
the same force as in the first instance. Still a voice sounds
in his ear, " Here is design — where is the designing cause 1
Here is contrivance — where is the contriver 1 Point out the
planning mind; show the hand that with such dexterity has
adapted means to the attainment of an end." Go where he
will, he has not accounted for the first eye ; he has not ac-
counted either for the origin or continuation of the series ;
and in no way can they be accounted for, but by the admis-
sion of a powerful, wise and good first cause.
We give much credit to the artist who makes a few good
instruments. The fame of Dollond, as an optician, is high,
and not undeservedly so ; although causes over which he had
no control contributed to aid his genius and exalt his fame ;
for we are told that the glass employed by him in the con-
struction of his best telescopes was a fortunate treasure, all
of one melting. But what should we have thought of his
genius and art, if he had made telescopes which produced
other telescopes, of undiminished excellence, through an un-
limited series? We should have pronounced them above all
encomium. What, then, shall we say of Him who formed
the eye, and established the law by which a vast succession
of eyes is generated ? Must not He be a designing Being ?
Must He not be unspeakably powerful, wise, and good ? If
I were brought into a court, before an enlightened jury,
where I should lose my cause unless I could adduce some
plain mark of intelligence and design in the works of nature,
I should boldly contend, after bringing forward the human
eye, with all its apparatus, that I had made good my cause,
and should confidently expect a verdict in my favor ; and
such a verdict any jury competent to decide upon the sub-
ject would assuredly return.
How the eye conveys sensation to the mind, I cannot tell.
If in this there be mechanism, it is such a mechanism as
eludes our notice and defies our investigation. All sensa-
tion is conveyed to the mind by an unknown influence of
the nerves. If the optic, or any other nerve distributed to
an organ of sensation, be cut or rendered paralytic, the ani-
THE HUMAN EAR. 41
mal instantly loses that particular sense. The fact is fully
established by observation and experiment. But how the
nerves, which are perfectly similar in every part of the body,
should convey to the mind feelings so different, when dis-
tributed over the eye, the ear, the tongue, and the nose, is
what we can neither understand nor explain. Here reason
and philosophy are set at defiance. Indeed, in every thing
around us, we may proceed a certain length with success in
our inquiries ; but we soon reach a limit which neither our
industry nor ingenuity can pass. We perceive an end ac-
complished ; but lioiv, we are often unable fully to explain.
Some parts of the process elude our utmost penetration, and
on those parts we can pass no judgment. But a good effect
is produced. The means, so far as we can trace them, are
admirably adapted to the end. In such circumstances, it is
truly characteristic of a fool to condemn the whole, because
he can understand and explain a part only ; or to deny design,
because he cannot fully trace the mechanism throughout the
whole process.
The organ of hearing is no less strikingly, and probably
no less mechanically, adapted to its office than the eye. It
consists of an external ear (the concha), contrived like an
ear-trumpet, to collect the pulsations of sonorous bodies. [PI.
IV. fig. 1.] In larger animals, there is the power of moving
the axis of the external ear towards the direction of the sound.
From the concha proceeds a tube, across which, within the
head, there is drawn a very thin, elastic membrane, called that
of the tympanum, or drum of the ear. Connecting the drum
with the interior channels and recesses of the skull, is a chain
of curious and delicate bones. [PI. IV. fig 2.] These recesses
are spiral in form, and resemble wind instruments of music.
[Fig. 3.] From the tube within the membrane of the tym-
panum proceeds the eustachian tube, which enters the back
part of the mouth. The object of this is, undoubtedly, to
supply the inner ear with air, so as to save the drum from
injury from the external pressure. Here, then, is evident
wisdom and design. Aerial pulsations, concentrated by the
involutions of the concha, vibrate the membrane of the tym-
panum. This acts upon the chain of bones before mention-
ed, and these convey to the brain the sensation of sound.
The texture of the membrane of the tympanum is so ex-
tremely delicate that it can be discovered only in very large
animals. That of the Elephant has its muscles radiating
4*
42 GENERAL VIEW
from the centre, and which is probably the case with that of
all animals. This seems to be done in order to bring it in
unison with different sounds. [PI. IV. fig. 4.] This wonder-
ful adaptation to the purpose evidently designed, is worthy
our high admiration.
CHAPTER HI.
GENERAL VIEW OF THE HUMAN BODY.
We might now proceed to the organs of the other senses,
and show that in them there is a wise adaptation of means to
the attainment of beneficial ends ; and that design plainly ap-
pears in the senses of smelling, tasting, and feeling. We
might also consider the different members of the body ; as
the hand, which Aristotle pronounced the "organ of or-
gans." Its excellence depends in no small degree on the
position, strength, and action of the thumb, which can be
brought into a state of opposition to the fingers, and hence is
of great use in laying hold of bodies. [PL VI.] We might
also show that the foot is well fitted for the support and pro-
gression of the body, and exhibits a noble display of benign
intention and skilful contrivance. But instead of entering
on such an extensive field, we shall merely take a general
view of the human body.
The bones, amounting, in a full-grown person, to about
two hundred and forty, constitute the frame of the machine ;
and in order to retain them in their places, and enable them
to perform their several functions, they are strongly and in-
geniously bound together by elastic ligaments, membranes,
or muscles, according to the several situations and uses of
the parts. Some of the joints have a free, easy, and obvious
motion ; while that of others is less evident. In the joints,
the articulating surfaces, being exposed to friction, are lined
with a smooth, elastic substance, named cartilage, which is
lubricated with synovia, as the wheels of machinery are with
oil. Now, if the oiling of the axles of machinery be the ef-
fect of design, we think it unreasonable to deny design in the
lubrication of the joints.
The articulations of the several joints are very different,
and, in every instance, are happily suited to their places and
purposes. Let us, for a moment, glance at the spine, [PI.
VIII.] How different is its formation from that of the thigh
OF THE HUMAN BODY. 43
bone, and its articulations from that of the hip, knee, or an-
kle joint! [PI. VII.] And is not design, are not wisdom
and goodness, obvious in the structure of each, and in the
difference between them ? Had the spine been formed of a
single bone, like the thigh, it would have been much more
easily fractured than at present, and utterly incapable of in-
curvation. Had it consisted of only two or three bones,
articulated like the hip or like the knee joint, the spinal mar-
row would have been bruised at every joint, and the motion
could not have been so free, nor the pillar so strong as it is.
The spine consists of twenty-four pieces, called vertchrcc^
with cavities and protuberances for locking into each other,
so as to prevent luxation, and yet provide for the ilexion of
the body. The spinal marrow, which is of essential impor-
tance to life, is lodged in the cavity secure from injury ; and
corresponding notches in the vertebrae leave a passage for the
entrance of the blood-vessels, and for the departure of the
nerves, which proceed from the spinal marrow to the differ-
ent parts of the body.
This bony column, which thus affords a canal through
which the spinal marrow, the production of the brain, pro-
ceeds in security towards the extremities, also supports the
head [PI. IX.], where the brain, the throne of sensation,
motion, and intellect, is lodged in the cranium, as in a for-
tress skilfully and artificially constructed; and the organs of
seeing, hearing, smelling, and tasting, are placed like so
many watchmen on the walls, while the sense of feeling is
diffused over the whole body. The spine also serves to con-
nect the framework of the body. [PI. X.] In short, let any
person attend to the way in which the different bones are
united, and consider how both their forms and articulations
are varied and adapted to different situations and offices, all
advantageous to the strength and motion of the frame, and he
will feel himself constrained to admit the existence of a wise
designing cause.
If the bones evince intelligence, gracious design, and skilful
contrivance, the muscles and tendons also bear testimony to
the being of God. The muscles act by contractions and relax-
ations ; and the insertion, the action, and strength of each, are
nicely proportioned to its place and office in the body. [PI.
XXVI.] The action of most of the muscles is subject to the
will ; and, at pleasure, we can put them in motion, or allow them
to remain in a state of rest. This, indeed, is not the case with
them all ; but design, and wisdom, and goodness, are equally
obvious, whether their action be voluntary or involuntary.
44 GENERAL VIEW
Several motions and processes go on within us, without any
volition on our part. The action of the heart and of the
lungs, the circulation of the blood, the digestion of the food,
and the various secretions, go on when we are asleep as well
as when we are awake, and do not depend on the will. This
is a wise and gracious provision, for these motions and pro-
cesses are necessary to life and health ; but, if these nice and
complicated movements had been dependent on the will, they
must have occupied much of our attention ; in many in-
stances, they must have been but partially performed ; and in
sleep, they must have been neglected and suspended. There-
fore, by a wise appointment, these vital motions are involun-
tarily performed. But other motions depend on the will, and
in them wisdom and goodness are as conspicuous as in those
that are involuntary. At pleasure we can open our eyes to
see the light, or shut them on the approach of danger : we
close them involuntarily in sleep. By an act of my will I can
speak or be silent ; rise up or sit down ; walk or stand still.
The body is noarished by the blood, which, flowing from
the heart as the fountain, like a genial and fertilizing stream,
conveys life and nutriment to the whole system. The heart
is a hollow muscle, of a conical shape, which involuntarily
contracts and relaxes more than sixty times in a minute,
and acts as a forcing-pump to propel the blood through the
arteries. It consists of four distinct cavities. The two
largest are called ventricles ; the two less, auricles. The
right ventricle, by its contractions, propels the blood, by the
pulmonary artery and its numerous ramifications, through
the lungs, where it is every moment undergoing a great
change, giving out carbonic acid, and taking in oxygen — a
process essential to life. The blood, on leaving the lungs,
passes into the left auricle, and thence into the left ventricle,
which propels it through the proper arteries, to carry the
vital aliment through every part of the system [PL XI.].
But the circulation is not effected by the propulsive action
of the heart alone. It is aided by a peristaltic motion in the
arteries, which have a muscular structure, and are much
stronger than the veins, through which the blood is con-
ducted back to the heart. Both the arteries and veins are
furnished with valves. Those of the arteries are situated
where these vessels issue from the heart, and are so con-
structed as to allo>v a free passage of the blood from the
heart towards the extremities, but to prevent its return by
the same channel. In the veins, the valves are so formed as
to permit the blood to flow freely from the extremities towards
the heart, but to hinder it from moving in the opposite direc-
OF THE HUMAN BODY. 45
tion. These valves are most numerous in the small branches,
where the impetus of the blood is least. In the structure of
the valves of the blood-vessels, design and contrivance are
obvious. It was by attending to this circumstance that Har-
vey* was led to the discovery of the interesting fact of the
circulation of the blood, by which he has acquired a lasting
celebrity. Can it then be imagined for a moment, that the
peculiar structure of the arterial and venous valves, by ob-
serving and reasoning on which that distinguished physician
was led to the discovery of a great fact in nature, happened
without design and skilful contrivance ? This imagination
cannot be entertained but by the stupid credulity of atheism.
The blood, sent from the left ventricle of the heart, and
conveyed through the system by the branches and capillary
ramifications of the arteries, returns by the veins. The arte-
ries, in proceeding from the heart, branch out and become
smaller and smaller ; and the veins, in advancing towards it,
gradually unite and are enlarged, till the whole of those re-
turning channels, by reiterated unions, are formed into one
large trunk, through which they pour their contents into the
right auricle of the heart. The blood, having thus com-
pleted the circulation, instantly sets out again on its tour, to
discharge, in passing through the lungs, those portions which
are noxious, and convey fresh nutriment through the body.
The blood-vessels are so wonderfully ramified, that scarcely
a spot can be punctured but the blood will appear.
The whole of the blood, however, does not perform this
circulation. The ultimate ramifications of the arteries, in
many instances, are so minute as not to afford a passage to
the red parts of the blood, but transmit the thin and pellucid
part of it only ; and those ramifications, instead of commu-
nicating with the veins, lodge their contents in bones, mus-
cles, ligaments, and other parts of the body, where, by another
part of the inscrutable process of assimilation, this fluid is
converted into a substance of the same specific character and
properties with the parts to which it is conveyed. On seeing
corn, fruit, herbs, and roots, in the various stages of their
growth, who would imagine they could be changed into blood,
* A physician of London, and liberal benefactor of the Royal College of
Physicians. His curious and wonderful discovery produced an astonishing^
revolution in the practice of medicine ; and hence many claims have been
instituted to the fame and honor which belong- to Harvey alone. It is the opin-
ion of some that Hippocrates was the original discoverer of the circulation of
the blood, and that Harvey merely has the honor of reviving the knowledge of
the fact of the circulation. — See Dr. Coxe's Vindication of Hippocrates, Phil-
adelphia, 18:^4.
46
GENERAL VIEW
and flesh, and bones ? The process carried on in this secret
laboratory eludes our investigation ; but it indicates the hand
of a wise and mighty Chemist, who constituted the wonder-
ful apparatus by which the surprising change is accomplished,
and endued all its parts with a suitable activity. Besides,
these minute vessels pour their contents into all the cavities,
and into the glands, where they are afterwards changed into
fluids of different qualities, and which answer different pur-
poses. Some of the glands prepare a fluid for lubricating
the joints, and the parts in motion ; some furnish fluids to
promote digestion, and to assist in the preparation of aliment;
and some yield a fluid to protect the skin, and to preserve it
in a proper state for performing its several offices.
But the whole contents of these capillary arteries which
wander from the circulation, cannot be allowed continually
to accumulate in the bones, muscles, and other parts to
which they are conveyed : accordingly we meet with a set
of vessels, which, on account of the transparency of the fluid
which they contain, are called lymphatics. They begin from
surfaces and cavities in all parts of the body as absorbents ;
and, like the veins, they form, by the union of many smaller
vessels, large tubes, and terminate in two trunks, which
empty their contents into the veins a little before the veins
enter the heart. Thus the lymphatics throw back into the
circulation those particles which are no longer of use in the
system. What is unfit to be retained in the circulation is
carried off* by vessels which open externally upon the surface
of the skin, or on the internal surface of the lungs, or in the
kidneys and intestinal canal. By these outlets, by perspira-
tion, by exhalation from the lungs, &c., every thing unfit for
remaining in the system is drained off".
The lungs, which are so essential to life, consist of diflfer-
ent lobes, and are composed of a great number of membra-
nous cells, and of numerous ramifications of blood-vessels,
nerves, and lymphatics, all connected by cellular substance.
The cells, which constitute the greatest part of the bulk of
the lungs, are irregular in their shape. They are very
small, and have been estimated at a fiftieth part of an inch
in diameter. The number of them is very great; but neither
their number nor dimensions can be accurately determined.
It is evident, however, that in extent they greatly exceed the
surface of the body.
The cells are closely connected, and freely communicate
with each other, but have no communication with the eel-
OF THE HUMAN BODY. 47
lular substance which unites and strengthens them. From
the cells there arise small hollow tubes, called bronchia;,
which are enlarged by gradual junctions, till, at the upper
part of the thorax, all the tubes on each side unite in one;
and the two branches joining together form the windpipe.
The numberless ramifications of the pulmonary artery and
vein are spread over every part of the cellular substance ot
the lungs, and carry the circulating fluid throughout the
whole of those spongy bodies, so that the blood in the ves-
sels and the air in the cells are brought into such a state of
contiguity that they can act on each other. Each of the ribs
is movable between the bodies of the vertebr.-E with which
it is connected ; and the breast bone, by its connection with
the ribs, partakes of their motion ; consequently the cavity of
the chest, in which the lungs are lodged, is susceptible of
considerable dilatation and contraction ; and these changes
in its dimensions are much assisted by the contractions of
the diaphragm, or by the action of the abdominal muscles
pressing the bowels upwards. Anatomical minuteness is not
the object of the present treatise, and therefore what has
now been said may suffice for a general account of the organ
of respiration ; and the structure and functions of this organ
exhibit decisive evidence, not only of design, but of admira-
ble contrivance also.
An animal which has once respired cannot exist without
the continuance of the process. Some animals need more at-
mospheric air, some less ; but none can live long without it.
The assertions that can be opposed to this fact are few and
doubtful. We have been told of serpents and worms that
have been found alive in the heart of stones, and of toads en-
closed in trees and rocks. But, admitting this, it is obvious
that there must have been some communication between the
external air and the bed of the animal. Air insinuates itself
into the cell constructed by the mason-bee for the lodgment
of its eggs, although that cell seems hermetically sealed ; and
there is every reason to believe that it likewise penetrates to
the animal embedded in a rock or tree. Experiment shows
that this is not mere supposition, for the toad expires under
the exhausted receiver of an air-pump; and, if put into a ves-
sel large enough to contain it with ease, but which is her-
metically sealed, it does not long survive. The frog leaps
away wanting its head or its heart, and it survives the loss of
the greater part of its spinal marrow. Eels and serpents can
move for some time even after evisceration. Snails and
48
GENERAL VIEW
chameleons can live long on air alone. But the life of all
animals is soon exthiguished on the exclusion of air.
Such is the fact in nature ; and accordingly, every ani-
mated being, in one way or another, can imbibe or absorb
atmospheric air. What is the provision made in man for the
accomplishment of this essential purpose ? He has lungs,
consisting, as we have already seen, of a vast multitude of
communicating cells, for the reception of the air ; and by
means of them that invisible fluid is brought into such a state
of contiguity with the blood that they can act upon . each
other ; and by a process, which the present state of our
knowledge does not enable us fully to explain, the blood ex-
tracts a vital nutriment from the air, or the air carries off a
deleterious substance from the blood, or both. The lungs
instantly expel the portion of air that has thus discharged its
office, and take in a fresh portion to pass through a similar
process. This inspiration and expiration are essential to hu-
man life. It may be added that while air thus taken into the
lungs supports life, if it be thrown into the vascular system, it
quickly brings on agitation, convulsions, and death.
It is now a well-known fact that atmospheric air is not a
homogeneous fluid, but consists of three different gases,
called oxygen, nitrogen, and carbonic acid, which, though of
different specific gravities, are always found together ; and an
atmosphere thus constituted is the best fitted for supporting
animal and vegetable life. The lungs did not form the at-
mosphere, nor did the atmosphere create the lungs, yet the
organ of the body and the external element are admirably
adapted to each other ; the lungs to bring the air into a state
of contiguity with the blood, and the blood and air to exer-
cise a reciprocal action. There is always a large proportion
of blood in the lungs, and consequently in a state of contigu-
ity with the air in the cells. The blood performs a com.plete
circulation in a short time, and during that space the whole
of it passes through the lungs.
It is not long since respiration was in any degree under-
stood, and still there remains much room for investigation
and discovery. But we know that the air undergoes a great
change in the lungs, and produces a remarkable effect on the
blood. Air does not issue from the lungs in the same state
in which it entered them. Its quantity is somewhat dimin-
ished ; it has lost a portion of its oxygen, in the room of
which it has gained about eight ^^r cent, in bulk of carbonic
acid, thrown out probably from the exhalent vessels of the
OF THE HUMAN BODY. 49
lungs ; and it is loaded with aqueous vapor. Besides, it is
a well-known fact that arterial and venous blood are not of the
same color. The blood has more of a vermilion redness on
leaving the heart to proceed in the circulation than on ils re-
turn to the right ventricle. This change of color is produced
in the lungs, and is occasioned perhaps by the ejection of car-
bon, and the absorption of the disengaged caloric of the
oxygen that has disappeared in that organ. Whatever theory
we adopt with respect to respiration, whether we consider it
as acting by absorption or exhalation ; as the means of im-
parting a vital nutriment, or of carrying off something which,
if allowed to remain in the system, would almost instantane-
ously extinguish life ; or whether we combine these notions,
— in any case, we see a grand purpose accomplished. We
clearly see the end, although the physiological process be
not fully understood.
Respiration is likely the chief cause of animal heat, for
the temperature of arterial blood is higher than that of venous ;
the temperature of the left side of the heart than that of the
right ; and the temperature diminishes as the distance from
the heart increases. That atmospheric air contains a consid-
erable portion of caloric is no hypothetical assumption. It
can be demonstrated ; for air, when rapidly compressed,
gives out both light and caloric ; and an instrument has been
constructed for procuring fire by this process. It is probable
that the portion of oxygen gas which disappears in respira-
tion is converted into the carbonic acid which is thrown out
of the lungs. But the specific caloric of this last is greatly
inferior to tha^ of the former ; consequently a large quantity
of heat is set free in the lungs when the conversion of gases
takes place.* This liberated heat passes into the blood, and
is given out by it in the circulation. Thus a quantity of
caloric is disengaged in the lungs in every respiration, and
by means of the blood is diffused throughout the body,
warming and enlivening it. What wonderful adaptations
are here presented ! What a gracious provision for support-
ing human life !
* Arterialization, however, will not account for the entire phenomenon of
animal heat. The influence of the nervous system over its development is un-
doubted, though phvsiologists are not agreed as to the mode by which it ope-
rates. Its action may be either direct or indirect ; tiiat is, the nerves may pos-
sess some specific power of g-enerating- heat, or they may excite certain opera-
tions by which the same effect is occasioned. It is far from improbable, that
the nerves act more by the latter than the former mode : that the infinite number
of chemical phenomena going- on in the minute arterial branches during- the
processes of secretion and nutrition — processes which are entirely dej:>pr-dent on
the nervous system — are attended with disengagement of calo,-fo.-"/'rfj:iyn.
5
50 GENERAL VIEW
There seems to be a correspondence between the respira-
tion and comparative heat of different animals. The temper-
ature of fish which oxydate the blood by gills, is not much
above that of the surrounding medium. In man, the ordi-
nary temperature near the surface of the body is about 96°
Fahrenheit ; and in most of the mammalia it is somewhat
higher. In birds, the lungs of which are differently consti-
tuted, and much larger in proportion to the size of the ani-
mal, the temperature is still higher than in the mammalia.
We may add that birds are exceedingly delicate as to air,
and die in air where a mouse lives without any perceptible
inconveniency.
In respiration we have both the planning and the execu-
tion of an extensive and complicated process. We see won-
derful combinations and adaptations in order to the accom-
plishment of a beneficial end ; and, by the constitution of
our minds, we are constrained to acknowledge design and
skilful contrivance in the combinations and adaptations.
In connection with respiration, we may take notice of the
voice and the faculty of speech. The principal organ of the
voice is the larynx [PI. XII.] : if it be injured, the air passes
through the windpipe without emitting any sound. Besides
the larynx, the organs of speech are the tongue, palate, and
teeth. With what promptitude does the tongue obey the
understanding and will, and communicate a vast variety of
impulses to the air ! Alphabetical writing, in which we paint
sounds, and express all our thoughts by the varied combina-
tion of a few arbitrary signs, is justly accounted an astonish-
ing invention. It is a brilliant display of design and skilful
contrivance. But is not that combination of organs by
which we readily utter such a variety of articulate sounds far
more wonderful ? How great is that wisdom which formed
the organs of speech !
The continual drain by perspiration, and otherwise, re-
quires a constant supply. This supply is bountifully fur-
nished by nature around us ; appetite tells us when it is need-
ed, and what quantity is suflicient, and we are provided
with a wonderful apparatus for its reception and elaboration.
Let us, then, take a cursory view of the intestinal and ali-
mentary canal. The food is received into the mouth, and
masticated by the teeth. Now, the food does not make the
teeth, but the teeth are evidently formed for the mastication
of the food. They are also of importance in aiding the ar-
ticulation of the voice. Infants, for whom a liquid aliment
is provided, and who have not acquired the use of speech,
OF THE HUMAN BODY. 51
have them not ; but they make their appearance when they
are wanted. [PI. XXV.] *
The organs of taste are stationed in the mouth, with those
of smelling in their vicinity, to warn us against the admission
of any thing noxious into the stomach ; and these senses,
when they are not vitiated by unnatural habits, are not only
faithful monitors, but sources of much enjoyment. Are
there no marks of intelligence, design and contrivance, in
fixing the teeth just where they are needed, and in the only
place where they can be useful ? Is there no wisdom and
no benignity in guarding the avenue to the stomach, not
only by the eye, which inspects every substance presented to
the mouth, but also by the organs of smell and taste, posted
at the very entrance of the alimentary canal, to detect every
thing unwholesome in the food which may have escaped the
vigilance of the eye ? No man in the right use of reason
can affirm it.
In tracing the food in its progress, the marks of gracious
design and skilful contrivance still accompany us, and mul-
tiply as we proceed. The trachea, or windpipe, the upper
part of which is called the larynx, communicates with the
(Esophagus, or passage to the stomach. If the minutest part
of our food pass into the trachea, it never fails to produce a
violent cough, and sometimes very alarming symptoms. This
accident, however, seldom happens. How is it prevented ?
By a very simple but skilful contrivance. A neat, elastic,
cartilaginous lid, called epiglottis, is so attached to the
mouth of the windpipe as to be pressed down by the food,
which it prevents from passing towards the lungs, while the
passage to the stomach remains unimpeded. At the same
time, the veliun palati, drawn backwards by its muscles,
closes the openings of the nose, and of the eustachian tubes,
and so prevents the food from returning through the nose,
which sometimes happens partially in drinking. Moreover,
in the act of deglutition, the larynx, which, being composed
* Amon^'st the vessels of the human body, the pipe which conveys the saliva
from the place where it is made, to the place where it is wanted, deserves to be
reckoned among the most intelligible pieces of mechanism with which we are
acquainted. [PI. XVII.] The saliva, we all know, is used in the mouth; but
much of it is manufactured on the outside of the cheek, by the parotid gland,
which lies between the ear and the angle of the lower jaw. In order to carry
the secretion to its destination, there is laid from the gland, on the outside, a
i)ipe about the thickness of a wheat straw, and about three fingers' breadth in
ength, which, after riding over the masseter muscle, bores for itself a hole
through the very middle of the cheek, enters, by that hole, which is a complete
perforation of the bticcinator muscle, into the mouth, and there discharges its
fluid very copiously. — Foley.
52 GENERAL VIEW
of cartilaginous rings, in its ordinary state compresses the
oesophagus, is carried forwards and upwards by muscles
destined for the purpose, and consequently dilates the open-
ing of the gullet. On reaching the gullet, the food is carried
down by the principle of gravity ; and a mechanical contri-
vance also lends its aid. The muscular fibres of the oesopha-
gus contract from above, and press the aliment forward to
the stomach. This is obvious in drinking with the head
downwards, when deglutition can be performed by the mus-
cular action of the oesophagus only.
The food soon reaches the stomach, a membranous bag, or
dilatation of the alimentary canal [PI. XIII.], where it is
accumulated and undergoes new processes. In its process
towards the stomach, the food is broken and divided by the
teeth, and attenuated by the saliva, a powerful solvent. On
reaching the stomach, it is subjected to the operation of a
new chemical agent, the gastric juice, a liquid secreted chief-
ly by that organ. The nature of this liquid is not yet fully
known. Its taste, color, and solvent powers, are different in
different classes of animals. Some living creatures cannot
digest that which is the food of others. Some animals, such
as sheep, live wholly upon vegetables : their stomachs do not
digest animal substances. Others, as the eagle, feed en-
tirely on animal substances : their stomachs do not digest
vegetables. Hemlock is poisonous to man ; but goats eat it
without injury.
The gastric juice does not continue always of the same
nature, even in the same animal. It is in some measure
modified according to the age, the health, the habits, and the
different aliments on which the animal subsists. Sick per-
sons and children are incapable of digesting the food which
is nutritious to a healthy man. Some graminivorous animals
may be brought to live on animal food, and to reject grass ;
and some carnivorous animals may be accustomed to vege-
ta,bles. But still the gastric juice, although it in some meas-
ure accommodates itself to the substances subjected to its
operation, evidently appears to have peculiar qualities in cer-
tain classes of animals. In the dog, it dissolves hard bones,
but, in equal times, makes no great impression on potatoes,
parsnips, and other vegetable substances. On the other
hand, in the sheep and ox, it speedily dissolves vegetables,
but makes little impression on animal bodies. Different
tribes of animals are distinguished by their gastric juice as
well as by their external form, and both are w^ell suited, in
every instance, to the habits of the creature ; for in many
OF THE HUMAN BODY. So
cases there is an astonishing correspondence between the
teeth and that liquid. The teeth of graminivorous animals
are differently formed from those of the carnivorous tribes ;
and in both they are wonderfully suited to the food and to
the gastric juice of the animal. He who can believe that
all these adaptations are the result of chance, is no enemy to
credulity.
The gastric juice, while it dissolves food, even although
enclosed in perforated metallic tubes, spares the living
stomach. But, when life ceases, this liquid often acts on the
very organ from which it has been secreted. It differs from
a chemical solvent, in having an assimilating power, by which
it reduces all substances, whether animal or vegetable, into
a soft, pulpy mass, named chyme, and prepares them for pass-
ing from the stomach into the intestines. If the food has been
properly digested in the stomach, on reaching the lower ori-
fice of that organ, named j9j/?o/'M5, it is freely allowed to pass.
But if it is not fully reduced to chyme, then, by a sort of in-
stinctive sensibility of the pylorus, it is thrown back into the
stomach to undergo more thoroughly the action of the gastric
juice. In the intestines, the chyme is mingled with the bile
and pancreatic juice. In short, from one extremity of the
alimentary canal to the other, fluids are perpetually flowing
into it from the glands and other sources. By the action of
these fluids, and of the intestines, the chyme is formed partly
into chyle, which is absorbed by the lacteals, and thrown into
the circulation, and partly into excrementitious matter, which
is ejected. [PI. XXVII.]
Here, then, we see an astonishing process carried on by
the instrumentality of many different parts, all nicely adapted
to each other, all cooperating in the same work, and tending
to the accomplishment of the same end — the support and
nourishment of the body. The mastication and deglutition
of the food, and the moistening of it with the saliva before it
enters the stomach ; the great change which it undergoes in
that organ, chiefly by means of the dissolving and assimila-
ting action of the gastric juice ; the changes induced upon the
aliment after it passes from the stomach ; the separation of
chyle from the excrementitious part ; the absorption of the
chyle by the lacteals, which throw it into the blood ; the myste-
rious process of assimilation ; the peristaltic motion of the vis-
cera [PI. XIV. fig. 2., and PI. XXVIL] ; and the mucus
which is continually secreted for their protection against the
acrimony of their contents, — these, when all taken together,
exhibit an astonishing process. They furnish an undeniable
5*
54 THE INFERIOR ANIMALS.
proof, not only of design and admirable contrivance, but of
great benignity also. What an amazing structure is the
body of Man ! How wonderful the absorbent, the circula-
tory and secretory apparatus of the human system 1 We are
wonderfully made ; and the marks of wisdom and goodness
are deeply impressed on every part of our frame.
To sum up all, on this part of the subject, in a few words ;
let any person contemplate the human body ; let him atten-
tively examine the skeleton, the figure and structure of the
bones of which it is composed, with their articulations ; the
muscles, their origin, insertion, strength, and action ; the or-
gans of sense, the eye, the ear, the nostrils, the tongue, and
palate, and the sense of feeling diffused over the whole body ;
the structure of the jaws, the stomach, and other viscera ;
the structure and action of the lungs, and organs of speech ; —
and if he can retire from the examination without a deep im-
pression of intelligence and design, yea, of wisdom and good-
ness, in the human frame, there can be but little doubt that
his understanding is singularly obtuse, or his heart singularly
depraved. Every mind, open to the force of evidence and to
the impressions of truth, must join in the exclamation of an
ancient sage, " I am fearfully and wonderfully made."
It may here be remarked, that, as food nourishes the body,
so sleep refreshes both body and mind. This mysterious
phenomenon we are unable to explain ; but its periodical re-
turn is necessary to life, and by it a beneficial end is accom-
plished. There is an obvious relation between sleep and the
rotation of the earth on its axis. They are harmonious parts
of one whole.
CHAPTER IV.
THE INFERIOR ANIMALS.
Man is evidently the noblest inhabitant of the earth. He
is not, indeed, so strong as the elephant, nor so swift as the
antelope : his eye is not so piercing as that of the eagle, nor
his sense of smell .-r exquisite as that of the dog : but the
high faculties of his mind give him superiority and dominion
over the whole animal creation. Around us wo see a vast
variety of objects, possessing very different qualities. These
objects do not stand at a great distance from each other ;
they arc wonderfully linked together, rising above each other
by almost imperceptible degrees. The system of nature is a
THE INFERIOR ANIMALS. 55
system of insensible gradations. The two extremes of organ-
ic and inorganic matter, perhaps, meet at a common point.
Corals and corallines seem to unite the mineral, vegetable,
and animal kingdoms. The boundaries of animal and vege-
table life are obscurely defined, and the interval between the
polypus and man is filled up with an amazing gradation of
animated beings. The progress from unorganized to organ-
ized matter, from vegetable to animal, and from animal to
rational existence, presents an astonishing and gradually-as-
cending series. In the whole progression we see a striking
uniformity of plan, with a rich variety in the execution: beau-
tiful analogies and nice distinctions every where occur.
It is animal existence which, at present, claims our atten-
tion. The earth, the air, and the water, are all abundantly
replenished with sentient beings, differing in their external
appearance, their habits, and their dispositions ; and all en-
joying happiness according to their several constitutions.
Man, unquestionably, stands at the head of this system of
animated being ; and there seems to be a much larger inter-
val between him and the most sagacious of the inferior ani-
mals, than what occurs in any other part of the gradation. It
is true, indeed, that, in a number of instances, we find man
in a state little superior to that of the brutes ; but, in the view
under consideration, we must take his capacity of improve-
ment into our estimate. My full conviction is, that if we
were to examine animals, in every gradation from the poly-
pus to man, we should meet with incontrovertible evidences
of design, and wise and benevolent contrivance, in every
stage of our progress. But a field of this kind is greatly too
extensive for our present purpose. It would be, no doubt,
both pleasant and instructive leisurely to pass through the
whole animal kingdom, and to examine with minute atten-
tion every thing that fell in our way. This, however, would
lead into voluminous details, instead of a concise treatise.
My limits confine me to a few remarks ; and as neither com-
parative anatomy nor natural history is my object, I shall pay
no attention to systematic arrangement, but shall endeavor
to show,
I. That the form of the inferior animals is admirably
adapted to their manner of life ;
II. That they are provided with suitable clothing ;
III. That they possess means of defence suited to their
condition ;
IV. That they are qualified for procuring their food ;
56 FORM OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS.
V. That we meet with surprising adaptations of animals to
peculiar circumstances.
Under each of these heads, I shall mention a number of
particulars respecting the inferior animals : these particulars
will be of a very miscellaneous nature, but, I presume, will
all tend to show wise design and benevolent contrivance in
nature.
I. The form of the inferior animals is admirably adapted
to their manner of life.
1. In the form of the different kinds of quadrupeds there
is great variety ; but amidst all the variety we perceive the
same general plan ; the same great outline appears in the
skeleton, in the articulations of the bones, in the disposition,
form and insertion of the muscles ; and in several other cir-
cumstances, all accommodated to the peculiar nature and
habits of the animal. The organs of sense, of digestion, and
of circulation, occur in all the species, but are varied accord-
ing to the destination of each.
In order to support the head of quadrupeds, they are fur-
nished with a very strong ligament, firmly bracing the head
to the vertebrae of the back. This ligament arises from the
spines of the dorsal and cervical vertebrae, which are length-
ened out for that purpose, and is fixed to the middle and pos-
terior part of the occipital bone. It is of great strength and
size in all quadrupeds, but is remarkably so in the elephant,
where the great weight of the head requires a strong support.
This ligament is wanting in man, because he did not need it ;
but it is of great use to quadrupeds, and they are provided
with it. Here, as in every other department of nature, the
provision is suited to the exigency of the case.
In graminivorous animals, we see a remarkable correspond-
ence between the length of the legs and the length of the
neck. According to the ancient fable, Tantalus was set up
to the chin in water, and apples were at his lips; but he had
no power to stoop to the one to quench his thirst, or to reach
up to the other to satisfy his hunger. There is nothing like
this in nature. All animals are capable of gathering their
food. Herbage is abundantly provided for the graminivo-
rous tribes, and there is such a correspondence between their
necks and their legs that they can easily reach it.
2. The external figure of birds is excellently adapted to the
mode of life which they are destined to pursue. They can
either walk on the ground, or by the action of their wings
rise buoyant on the air, and pass through it with great rapidi-
FORM OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS. 57
ty, somewhat like fish in water. Their wings are moved by
remarkably strong muscles, and their tail serves as a rudder
to direct their course. In most cases, their heads are small.
The proper bones of the cranium, at least in adult animals,
are not joined by sutures, but are consolidated into a single
piece. This small and compact head generally terminates
in a sharp-pointed beak ; and the breast-bone is formed
somewhat like the prow of a ship, so that the bird can pass
easily through the air. The wings are placed more forward
than the middle part of the body ; and, at first sight, we
should be ready to imagine that, in flying, the posterior parts
would hang down, and that the bird would be unable to pre-
serve the body in a horizontal position. But, by stretching
out its head, which acts upon the lever of a long neck, by
filling its abdominal sacs with air, and by expanding the tail,
it alters the centre of gravity, and keeps its body nearly in
the plane of the horizon. The legs of birds are placed far
back in their bodies ; but, by erecting the head and neck,
they throw the centre of gravity on the feet. As birds are
destined to pass rapidly through the atmosphere, so their in-
ternal configuration, as well as their external form, is hap-
pily fitted for volitation. They harmoniously conspire for
the purpose, and so run into each other that I shall consider
them together.
Receptacles of air pervade the whole bodies of birds, and
their respiratory organs constitute one of the most singular
structures in the animal economy. Their respiration is per-
formed by means of lungs which are fixed to the back-bone,
and which have a communication with air cells spread over
the whole abdomen, and also with hollow bones, which, in-
stead of marrow, are filled with air. And not the hollow
bones only are filled with air, but the pinions also : in some
cases, the communication even extends to analogous cavities
in the muscles. In those birds which soar highest, such as
the eagle, the hawk, and the lark, the cavities in the bones
and below the muscles are very large. This great diff"usion
of air throughout the bodies of birds, makes them specifically
lighter than otherwise they would have been, and so fits them
for supporting themselves in that medium through which they
are destined to pass. If we consider the rarefaction of the
included air by the heat of the animal, we will easily perceive
that these air cells enable the bird to fly with much more
ease than it could have done if it had been formed like
quadrupeds.
The air cells seem likewise to supply the place of a dia-
58 FORM OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS.
phragm, and of strong abdominal muscles. Without adding
any thing to the weight of the body, they produce the same
effect on the viscera as those muscles would have done.
Probably they are also of much importance to the respiration
of the bird. The ostrich, indeed, which does not fly, is pro-
vided with them ; but from the use which it makes of its
wings in running, they no doubt contribute to the rapidity
of its motion. The bat has them not; but its structure is
peculiar, and its flight is never long. Here we see a con-
formation of parts evidently fitted to the bird's manner of life.
The wings did not form the pointed beak and sharp breast-
bone, nor did they create the air vesicles ; and, on the other
hand, the pointed beak and the air vesicles did not give ex-
istence to the wings. They exist independently on each
other; yet they all harmonize and contribute to the same
end. The inference is obvious and irresistible.
3. Of the inhabitants of the water there is a prodigious
variety ; but one general figure, subject to different modifica-
tions, prevails among fish. Their form is well fitted for trav-
ersing the fluid in which they reside; and, by means of their
fins and tails, many of them can pass through the water with
great rapidity. Men, in some measure, imitate the shape of
fish, in the construction of fast-sailing vfsspls. But many
fishes, with the greatest ease, overtake a ship under sail,
play around it as if it were motionless, and dart off before it
at pleasure. The tail is the great instrument of progressive
motion ; the fins serving chiefly to keep the body upright.
Fish are furnished with organs of respiration suited to the
element which they inhabit. Instead of lungs, they have
gills, or hrancMcB, which are placed behind the head on each
side ; and, in most instances, have a movable gill cover. By
means of these organs, which are connected with the throat,
the animal draws its oxygen from the air contained in the
water, as animals with lungs derive it immediately from the
atmosphere. Fish discharge the water through the bronchial
openings, and thus their expiration and inspiration are per-
formed through different passages. The heart of fish is very
small in proportion to the body. Its structure is simple, con-
sisting of a single auricle and ventricle, which correspond
with the right side of the heart in warm-blooded animals.
The ventricle gives rise to a single arterial trunk, going
straight forward to the branchiae, whence the blood passes
into a large artery, analogous to the aorta, which goes along
the spine, and supplies the body of the animal. It is returned
by the vence caves into the auricle.
FORM OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS. 59
The temperature of the inhabitants of the water is nearly
the same with that of the element in which they reside ; and
fish need less air than hot-blooded animals. Still they need
a certain portion of air, and soon expire under the exhausted
receiver of an air-pump. Berzelius,* indeed, has stated that
a fish may continue alive for several days in water which is
void of air, and that it cannot be observed that the least de-
composition of the water has taken place by its respiration.
But he has not told us whether he means to assert that this
takes place under the exhausted receiver of an air-pump, or
only when there is a free communication between the water
and the atmosphere. A fish lives in a narrow-mouthed ves-
sel filled with water, so long as the communication with the
external air remains open ; but soon dies if that communica-
tion be completely shut up. If a hole be broken in a frozen
lake, the fish quickly repair to the place. Hence, in winter,
the North American Indians, when their provisions fail,
break a hole in the ice, and commonly succeed in obtaining
a fresh supply by fishing. t
As fish have no lungs, so we have already seen their heart
has only one auricle and one ventricle. Now, the heart did
not create the respiratory organs, nor did the respiratory or-
gans form the heart ; yet they are evidently adapted to each
other. Many fishes are provided with a siviinming bladder
[PI. XIV. fig. 3.], which lies close to the back-bone, and has
a strong muscular coat. The fish can either contract or di-
late this bladder, and, rendering itself specifically lighter or
heavier, can descend or ascend at pleasure. Flounders, and
some other fishes, which want this bladder, are always found
grovelling at the bottom of the water. This, however, is not
universally the case; for fishes of the cartilaginous kind want
air bladders, and yet they easily rise to the top or sink to the
bottom; and although most of the eel kind have air bladders,
yet they cannot raise themselves in the water without difficul-
ty. It is probable, therefore, that this bladder serves other
purposes in the economy of the fish besides enabling it to
rise and sink in the water.
* At present professor of chemistry and of pharmacy, secretary of the Royal
Academy of Sciences at Stockholm. The king- of Sweden, Charles XtV.
(Bernadotte), has made him a nobleman. He has enriched the science of
chemistry by many important discoveries and profound and elaborate works.
He is tiie first chemical analyst of the age, and has distinguished himself par-
ticularly by researches into the laws of definite proportions. Most of his works
have been translated into French and English. He was bora at Linkioping, in
East Gothland, 1779.
t River water has rather less than -jJg- of its bulk of air. This air contains
about -j^lj. of oxygen j from -^-^ to -J^^g- carbonic acid : the remainder is
nitrogen.
60 FORM OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS.
The natatory bladder is largest in such fishes as swim
with considerable velocity. It is wanting in flat fishes, where
the large lateral fins supply its place, and in the shark, where
its absence is compensated by the size and strength of the
tail. It does not exist in the lamprey, which possesses none
of these compensations ; and therefore it creeps slowly at the
bottom of the water. In fresh-water fishes, the air bladder,
according to Erman's experiments, contains nitrogen gas
mixed with varying proportions of oxygen gas; but this last
is never found in it in the same proportion as in atmospheric
air. Biot* found that, in salt-water fishes, it contained oxy-'
gen gas, increasing in proportion as the fish was in the habit
of living at a great depth. t This bladder communicates
generally with the oesophagus, and sometimes with the
stomach. The whale tribe, and the web-footed mammalia,
which breathe by lungs, must often rise to the surface for the
purpose of respiration.
Some of the inhabitants of the water present a singular
appearance. Their bones, instead of being placed internally,
form their exterior covering. They stand low in the scale of
animal existence ; but even in them we see a wise and g^ra-
cious provision for the preservation of the creature. The
muscle, for instance, has a locomotive power : on looking at
it, we should be apt to imagine that it would be the sport of
the waves, and be dashed to pieces against the rocks in a
storm. It, however, has the power of securing itself against
this danger, and of providing for its safety, by forming cer-
tain viscous threads, about two inches long, by means of
which it firmly attaches itself to the rock, as by a cable and
anchor. Upwards of a hundred and fifty of these cables are
sometimes employed in mooring a single muscle. Here we
see means of preservation well adapted to the state and cir-
cumstances of the animal.
4. In the different classes of animals there is a wonderful
adaptation of the organs of sense to the structure of the rest
of the body, and to the animal's peculiar manner of life. Of
this I shall take the eye as an example.
All animals have two eyes : some insects have more. [PI.
XVI. fig. 8, 9.] In man, the eyes are directed forwards,
* A distinguished natural philosopher and astronomer, born at Paris, 1774.
His works, published in 1816, are very valuable contributions to science, as
are his occasional communications in the literary journals of France. His dis-
coveries in acoustics are both curious and valuable.
t I?ctvveen the tropics, Humboldt found in the natatory bladder of the flying
fish 0.94 nitrogen, 0.04 oxygen, 0.02 carbonic acid. Some fish inhabiting the
lower strata of the ocean have as much as 0.92 of oxygen in llicir air blaclder.
—Humboldt, Personal Narrative, v. ii. p. IG.
FORM OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS. 0^1
harmonizing with the form and articulations of the upper
and lower extremities, and with the configuration of the
whole body. In most of the inferior animals, the eye has an
oblique direction. The simiae and the owl look straight for-
ward. The motions of the human eye are performed by six
muscles : quadrupeds have a seventh, named, from its office,
the suspensory muscle. It sustains the weight of the globe
of the eye, and prevents the optic nerve from being too much
stretched, when the animal is obliged to hold its eyes in a
hanging posture, and to look downwards in choosing and
gathering its food. In man, on account of his erect posture,
this muscle is not needed, and in the human subject it is not
found ; but to quadrupeds, by reason of their prone posture,
it is of great utility, and they are provided with it. Now, the
suspensory muscle does not occasion the prone posture of the
animal, and the prone posture does not create the suspensory
muscle, for it comes into the world with the quadruped ; yet
the one is adapted to the other. Is there not design, yea,
benevolent design and skilful contrivance, in this adaptation?
Many animals, but especially birds, whose eyes are much
exposed to injury in passing through woods and thickets,
are provided with a somewhat transparent covering for the
eye, called the nitiitating membrane. [PI. III. fig. 2, 3, 4, 5.]
It admits as many rays as render objects visible, and pro-
tects the organ of vision in circumstances of danger. It
screens the eye when the bird is flying directly against the
rays of the sun; and by means of it, according to Cuvier,*
the eagle is enabled to look at that luminary. It also serves
to cleanse the cornea — an operation which man can perform
with his hand. It is drawn over the globe of the eye b)* the
combined action of two very singular muscles, which are
fitted for the purpose with much mechanical skill.
The eyes offish, being much exposed to danger in the in-
constant element in which they reside, always have a cuti-
cle, or firm pellucid membrane over them. Indeed, their
eyes differ, in several respects, from those of other animals,
and are wonderfully accommodated to the medium in which
fish exist. The vitreous humor is very small, and the aque-
* A peer of France, perpetual secretary of the Aca^lcmy of Sciences, pro-
fessor of natural history in the Colleg-e of France, and the first naturalist of
the age. He was born in Wurlemburg-, 1769 — a j'ear remarkable as the natal
year of Napoleon, Welling^ton, Ney, Chateaubriand, Humboldt, Casliereagh,
and several other illustrious names. His library was purchased by the French
government for 72,000 fr. Almost all the learned societies in the world have
sent Cuvier honorary diplomas. The Cabinet of Comparative Anatomy, found-
ed by him, affords the finest osteological collection in Europe. He died at
Paris, May 13, 1834.
6
b» FORM OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS.
ous sometimes scarcely perceptible. The water, in a great
measure, supplies the place of those two humors ; but, that
refraction may be duly carried on, and vision accomplished,
the crystalline is very large, almost spherical, and more dense
than in terrestrial animals. In birds these circumstances
are reversed ; they are often in a somewhat elevated region
of the atmosphere, and the rays which pass through that rare
medium are refracted by the aqueous humor, which, in birds,
is of a large size. Man, and the mammalia, living on the
surface of the earth, hold a middle place between these two
extremes. The tapetum, or mucus which lines the poste-
rior surface of the iris, the ciliary processes, and part of the
tunica choroides, is of different colors in different kinds of
animals ; and in each it is admirably fitted to the creature's
manner of life. White reflects the rays of light ; black ab-
sorbs them. Accordingly the tapetum is either white, or of
some vivid color which reflects the light strongly, in those
animals which seek their prey by night. The cat and the
owl have the tapetum whitish, and the pupil capable of much
contraction and dilatation. On the other hand, the tapetum
of birds, in general, but especially of eagles, hawks, and other
birds of prey, is black ; by which means they are enabled to
see with the greatest distinctness, but only in clear day light.
Man is designed to labor chiefly by day, and his tapetum is
neither so black as that of birds, nor so white as that of those
animals which make the greatest use of their eyes in the
dark. Animals which are much under ground, as the mole
and the shrew, have the eyes very small. In the former of
these, its existence has been altogether denied ; and it is not,
m fact, larger than a pin's head. In some reptiles, the com-
mon integuments form, instead of eye-lids, a kind of firm
window, behind which the eyeball has a free motion.
5. Quadrupeds are divided into the carnivorous and the
herbivorous. As their food is different, so a difference in
the teeth indicates the class to which the animal belongs.
As the teeth of the graminivorous, particularly of the rumi-
nating kinds, are more constantly employed than those of the
carnivorous kinds, so they are more thoroughly provided with
enamel. There is also a considerable difference in the ar-
ticulations of the jaws of quadrupeds. In ihafercc, the artic-
ulation admits only of the hinge movement; but in the her-
bivorous quadrupeds, particularly in the ruminating kinds,
the articulation admits of a very free lateral motion. Here
there is an obvious correspondence between the form and the
habits of the animal.
fORM OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS. 63
, There is a striking relation between the teeth, and the
other instruments of mastication, and the stomach. The
sheep, deer, and ox tribes, are destitute of fore teeth in the
upper jaw; but the trituration of their food is completed by
rumination. The horse and ass do not chew the cud, but
they are provided with suitable teeth in the upper jaw for
masticating the food and preparing it for the action of the
gastric juice. The gastric juice of ruminating animals does
not perform its specific operation upon the food till the cud
has been chewed ; and the animal seems to have as much
gratification in chewing the cud as in pasturing. It then
appears to be in a state of the most tranquil enjoyment.
Birds have no teeth ; but the herbivorous and graminiv-
orous kinds are furnished with the gizzard, a powerful instru-
ment for grinding the food, and preparing it for the action of
the gastric juice. This juice does not act on the unbroken
grain, but the animal is provided with the means of grinding
it. Now, the gizzard did not form the bill of the bird, nor did
the bill give existence to the gizzard ; yet they are exactly
fitted to each other. Teeth and a gizzard are not found
together.
Instead of extending these remarks, I shall close this sec-
tion by inserting some of the conclusions of Cuvier, so dis-
tinguished by his knowledge in comparative anatomy. " Ev-
ery organized individual," says he, " forms an entire system
of its own, all the parts of which must mutually correspond
and concur to produce a certain definite purpose, by recipro-
cal reaction, or by combining towards the same end. Hence
none of these separate parts can change their forms without
a corresponding change in the other parts of the same animal,
and, consequently, each of their parts taken separately indi-
cates all the other parts to which it has belonged. Thus, if
the viscera of an animal are so organized as to be fitted for
the digestion of recent flesh only, it is also requisite that the
jaws should be so constructed as to fit them for devouring
prey ; the claws must be constructed for seizing and tearing
it to pieces; the teeth for cutting and dividing its flesh;
the entire system of the limbs, or organs of motion, for pur-
suing and overtaking it ; and the organs of sense for discov-
ering it at a distance. The shape and structure of the teeth
regulate the forms of the condyle, of the shoulder-blade, and
of the claws; so that a claw, a shoulder-blade, a condyle, a
leg or arm bone, or any other bone separately considered,
enables us to discover the description of teeth to which they
have belonged ; and so also reciprocally we may determine
64 CLOTHING OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS.
the forms of the other bones from the teeth. Thus, com-
mencing our investigations by a careful survey of any one
bone by itself, a person who is sufficiently master of the laws
of organic structure may, as it were, reconstruct the whole
animal to which that bone had belonged. The smallest frag-
ment of bone, even the most apparently insignificant apophy-
sis, possesses a fixed and determinate character, relative to
the class, order, genus, and species, of the animal to which
it belonged ; insomuch that, when we find merely the extrem-
ity of a well-preserved bone, we are able, by careful exam-
ination, assisted by analogy and exact comparison, to deter-
mine the species to which it once belonged as certainly as if
we had the entire animal before us."
II. The clothing of the inferior animals is completely
adapted to the climate which they inhabit, and to the dif-
ferent seasons of the year. In Kamtschatka, Lapland, and
the higher latitudes of North America, they are clothed with
thick and warm furs; but in tropical climates they are al-
most naked.
The musk-ox, a native of high latitudes, is provided in
winter with a thick and fine wool, or fur, which grows at the
root of the long hair, and shelters him from the intense cold
to which he is exposed in that season. But as the summer
advances, this fur loosens from the skin, and by the animal's
frequent rolling himself on the ground, it works out to the
end of the hair, and in due time drops off, leaving little for
summer clothing except the long hair. As the warm weath-
er is of short duration in those high latitudes, the new fleece
begins to appear almost as soon as the old one drops off, so
that he is again provided with a winter dress before the cold
becomes intense. The clothing is suited to the season.
Where are the animals found which furnish materials for the
fur trade ? Not within the tropics ; but in countries border-
ing on the Arctic circle. The elephant is a native of hot
climates, and he goes naked. Rein-deer abound in Lapland
and in the vicinity of Hudson's Bay, and they have a coat of
strong, dense hair. The white bear is found on the coast of
Greenland, and his shaggy covering is suited to that high
iaiitude. In a word, if we pass from the equator to Spitz-
bergen and Nova Zembla, we shall find in all the interme-
diate degrees, that the clothing of quadrupeds is suited to
their climate, and accommodates itself to the season of the
year.
Man is the only unclothed animal in all countries ; and he
is the only creature qualified to provide clothing for himself.
CLOTHING OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS. 65
and to accommodate that clothing to every climate, and to
all the variety of the seasons. In this, as in every other re-
spect, his condition is suited to his nature, as a being whose
improvement and happiness are promoted by labor of body
and exercise of mind.
If we pass to the clothing of birds, we still find benevolent
contrivance, suited to the circumstances and providing for
the welfare of the animal. This clothing consists of feathers,
which are very bad conductors of heat, and which conse-
quently permit the heat of the animal to pass olT very slowly
into the circumambient medium. The feathers are so in-
serted into the skin as naturally to lie backwards from the
head, and to lap over each other, like tiles on a roof, allowing
the rain to run off.* When the head of the bird is turned
towards the wind, the feathers are not discomposed by the
most violent storm. There is in birds a large gland, which
secretes an oily substance ; and when the feathers are too
dry, or any way disordered, the bird squeezes the oil out of
this gland, and dresses them with it. Thus the admission of
water is prevented ; and the bird, by means of its feathers, is
sheltered both from cold and rain. Water-fowls have their
breast covered with warm and soft clothing, suited to their
circumstances. The eider-duck abounds on the coasts of
Iceland ; and the warmth of eider-down is well known.
While the feathers of birds thus preserve them from cold,
they are also a sort of defensive armor, and excellent instru-
ments of motion. t
The temperature of fish is not much above that of the me-
dium in which they reside ; and they have not, in general,
any great occasion for warm clothing. Nevertheless, they
are provided with a scaly coat of mail, and are covered with
a slimy and glutinous matter, w^hich not only defends their
bodies from the immediate contact of the surrounding fluid,
but probably facilitates their motion through the water also.
Under the scales, and before we come to the muscular part
* By the aid of the microscope it appears that the laminae or threads of feath-
ers have, on their outward edge, a series of bristles, set in pairs opposite one
another, which clasp with the bristles of the contiguous laminae. This is the
cause of the surprising adhesiveness observable in the feather or quill.
The bristles are not of the same form on each side of one lamina ; the lower
tier form a simple and slight curve, while the upper terminate with three or
four little hooks, which serve to catch the simple corresponding bristle of the
next lamina. — Paleij.
t The Elytra or homy \vings of the genus scarabaeus, or L-eetle, is an admi-
rable contrivance, furnishing both a covering and a protection to the delicate
gauze-like wings of this insect. In some, the elytra envelop the whole body ;
in others, only a small part of it. In all, they form an entire covering for the
true wings. [PI. XV. fig. 1, 2.]
6 *
06 DEFENCE OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS.
of the body, we meet with an oily substance, which contrib-
utes to the preservation of the requisite warmth. The whale
is a hot-blooded animal, and resides chiefly in polar regions ;
but he is wrapped up in a thick coat of blubber, which is a
bad conductor of caloric, and defends him from the cold.
Other inhabitants of the water in high latitudes, as the walrus,
enjoy a similar security against the rigor of the element to
which they are exposed. Can we seriously attend to the
clothing of animals, without recognizing in it the hand of a
wise and beneficent First Cause 1
III. Every animated being is endued with the love of life,
and the desire of self-preservation ; and is also furnished with
the means of acting in conformity to this instinctive princi-
ple of its nature. Every animal can search for its food, and
choose what is proper for its subsistence. But, at present,
I shall shortly attend to the means which different animals
possess of securing themselves against danger, and of de-
fending themselves from their enemies. Every animal pos-
sesses, in a certain degree, the means of self-preservation,
either by resistance or flight. Some animals have formidable
instruments of offence in their horns, teeth, claws, hoofs, or
sting ; others trust for safety to the swiftness of their course,
or velocity of their flight ; and some defend themselves by
emitting a repulsive odor.
In gregarious animals, although the individual, in some
instances, is weak and timid, yet the herd or flock can as-
sume an imposing attitude, and make a vigorous defence.
No creatures are more timid and defenceless than sheep,
when under the protection of man. In the natural state,
however, the rams, constituting the half of the flock, place
themselves in battle array against the enemy, and dogs can
make no impression upon them. Even the lion or tiger is
unable to resist their united impetuosity and force ! A single
goat can choose his position on the rock, and set the dog at
defiance. Horses join heads together, and fight with their
heels ; oxen join tails, and fight with their horns ; all place
their young in the centre, that they may be safe during the
battle. In perilous cases, elephants march in troops ; the
oldest in front, the young and feeble in the centre, those of
middle age and mature vigor in the rear. When at a dis-
tance from danger, they travel with less precaution, never,
however, separatiniif so far but that they can hear one anoth-
er's cries, and afford timely assistance.
The mole is well-formed for digging [PI. XVI. fig. 1.], and
escapes from its pursuers by penetrating into the earth : the
DEFENCE OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS. 67
hedge-hog rolls itself up in a prickly envelope : the hare is
well-fitted for running, and trusts to its swiftness for safety.
The innocuous lama, which uses neither feet nor teeth
against its enemies, is not destitute of means of defence. It
is provided, we are told, with an acrimonious saliva, which,
when offended, it can eject to the distance of several yards.
This saliva occasions troublesome cutaneous eruptions where
it touches.* The viper at once wounds with its fang, and
injects into the wound the deadly poison. [PL XIV. fig. 4,
5.] Some animals are furnished with peculiar glands and
bags at the end of the rectum, which secrete and contain a
remarkably fetid substance ; and this substance the animal
can at pleasure throw out against its pursuers. The zurilla,
a species of weasel about the size of a rabbit, found in several
parts of South America, emits, when angry, such a pestilen-
tial vapor as beats off the most formidable adversary. An-
other inconveniency, says De Pages, which awaits the travel-
ler in this country (between St. Antonio and Mexico), is the
abominable smell of an animal, without the agility, but near-
ly of the size, of a rabbit. This creature, when hardly
pressed, and in jeopardy of being taken, emits a most intol-
erable stench, which threatens suffocation to his pursuers,
and which is eluded only by a precipitate flight. The
polecat (Vivcrra j/utorius), when pursued or irritated,
forces upon its pursuers a fluid of so horrible an odor that
neither man nor dog can endure it.t
* Ulloa, Voyage au Perou, liv. vi. ch. 8. Wilcock's History of Buenos
Ay res, p. 458.
t The tusks of the babyroufissa [PI. XVIII. fig. 4.], or /nc/ian hog, are said to
be contrived as a means of defence in suspending themselves from a branch of a
tree during the period of their repose, out of the reach of other animals. But
" there does not seem to be amj sufficient authority for ascribhig this use to the
tusks of this animal. Indeed, one does not readily see how it could in the ivay rfe-
scribed swing itself clear of its enemies, except by frst climbing the tree ; which
is not pretended. The fact is doubted, it is believed, by many naturalists ; and the
opinion probably was in the frst place founded upon mere conjecture. A modem
and distinguished traveller has these remarks upon the subject. ' Philosophers
had long puzzled themselves in conjectures wliat the design of nature could be, as
she does nothing witliout design, in giving to this animal a pair of large, curved
tusks, pointing inwards to the face, in such a manner as made it sufficiently clear
they could not be used either for attack or defence, for procuring food, or for as-
sisting the mastication of it when procured. At length it occurred, or was dis-
covered, by whom. I do not recollect, that the animal is fond of sleeping in a stand-
ing posture, and that, having a large, ponderous head, itfnds a conveniency in
hanging it upon the branch of a tree or shrub ivitliin the reach of its tusks, which
serve on such occasions for hooks. This is at least an ingenious discovery, and
may be true ; but if so, tlie habits of the animal must vary according to local cir-
cumstances. The same species, or one so like it that the difference is not distin-
guishable by any description or draioing that I have seen, is common among the
rocks on the deserts of Southern Africa, where, within tlie distance of a hundred
miles, there is neitlier tree nor shrub, except aftw stunted Iieatlis or shrivelled ever-
68 DEFENCE OF THE INFERIOR ANI3IALS.
Birds, by their different ways of flying, often escape from
their enemies. If the pigeon had the same way of flying as
the hawk, it could scarcely ever escape his claws.
If, from the earth and the air, we pass to the ocean, we
shall find its inhabitants possessing, in like manner, means
of defence and safety. The cuttle-fish [sepice), when closely
pursued, ejects a fluid black as ink, and conceals itself and
escapes by discoloring the water. The excretory duct is
situated on or near the liver. The fluid itself is thick, but
so miscible with water that a small quantity of it discolors a
considerable body of water. According to Cuvier, the Indian
ink is made of this fluid. Some fishes have fins so large and
flexible, that, when pursued, they can spring out of their na-
tive element, and dart through the air to a considerable dis-
tance.*
Some of the inhabitants of the water possess peculiar
means of defence, by giving electrical shocks. The elec-
trical fluid is widely diflused in nature ; and seems to be
lodged, in greater or less quantities, in all animals. That
there is a considerable portion of it in the human body is
evident. Some persons are naturally so much electrified as
to give obvious signs of the presence of this fluid, when a
delicate electrometer is applied to them ; and if their hair is
combed, when they are placed on an insulating stool, they
emit sparks. But only a very few animals have the power
of giving shocks. So far as is at present known, they are
all of the aquatic kind ; the torpedo, gymnotus electricuSy
and silurus electricus.
This property of the torpedo has been known since the
days of Theophrastus. It has the power of giving a smart
shock to the person who touches it. According to Humboldt
and Guy Lussac, the contact must be immediate. The shock
depends on the will of the animal, which must be irritated
before it exerts its peculiar power. The electrical apparatus
of the torpedo has some resemblance to a galvanic trough,
and seems to act in a similar manner.
The gymnotus electricus is a species of eel peculiar to
Surinam river, and is said to be a fresh-water fish only.
When of the largest size, it is about four feet long, and fi-om
lastings, thinly scattered over the barren surface. In such situations, where I have
hinted and taken them, it would certainly be 7io easy matter for the babyrouessa to
find a peg to hang its head upon.' " — Barrow's Voyage to Cochin-Chiua. Dr.
Ware.
* The velocity with whicli fish swim from one part of the globe to another is
astonishing. When a ship is sailing at the rate of fourteen miles an hour, the
porpoises will pass it with as much ease as when at anchor. — Paxton.
FOOD OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS. C9
ten to fourteen inches in circumference in the thickest part
of the body. Its electrical power is greater than that of the
torpedo. It gives even the most violent shocks without any
movement of the head, eyes, or fins. But when the torpedo
gives a shock, a convulsive motion of the pectoral fins may
be observed.
The siluriis electricus, a fish about twenty inches long,
found in some of the rivers of Africa, gives a shock like the
torpedo and gymnotus. By means of this singular power,
these animals can stun their adversaries and escape by flight.
Insects appear a feeble race ; but some of them possess
formidable means of defence and annoyance. Their sting
is a spear, which they can wield with dexterity in repelling
aggression. [PI. XV. fig. 5.] The fine polish of this little
piece of armor has often been remarked, and adduced as an
instance of the difference between the workmanship of the
Creator and the productions of art. When viewed through
a microscope, the shape of the finest needle seems rough and
blunt ; but the sting of a bee, when examined by the glass,
is seen to be smooth and beautifully polished. The first
displays all its beauties to the naked eye ; the instrument re-
veals its deformities : but the beauty of the last appears the
more conspicuous the more narrowly it is inspected. In
short, every animal is endued, in a greater or less degree,
with the means of self-preservation. If any species be singu-
larly exposed to danger, it has the advantage of some great
compensating principle, by which it is preserved from ex-
tinction. Many of the weaker or more timid animals can
elude pursuit by the rapidity of their motions : some are very
prolific, and can bear a great waste. Here, as in every other
department, we see a uniformity of plan, which can only be
the fruit of design ; and such an adaptation of means to ends
as can result from nothing but benevolent intention.
IV. There is a great variety in the tastes and appetites of
diflferent kinds of animals ; and there is a corresponding
variety in the productions of the earth. There seems to be
nothing in the wide extent of the vegetable kingdom, but
what will yield sustenance to animals of one kind or other.
Each species finds food agreeable to its taste and proper to
its nature, and animals of one class cannot deprive those of
another of their means of subsistence. According to Lin-
naeus, tlie hog eats 72 kinds of vegetables ; the horse, 262 ;
the cow, 276 ; the sheep, 387 ; and the goat, 449, This di-
versity of tastes, with the corresponding diversity of produc-
tions, is one great means of stocking every part of the earth
70 FOOD OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS.
and of the ocean with inhabitants. Some animals, both by
sea and land, are found only in certain latitudes. Some
dwell in polar regions; others chiefly within the tropics;
and each finds its peculiar aliment in the place where it
resides.
Animals are wonderfidly fitted for discovering their means
of subsistence. In selecting their food, they rely chiefly on
smelling ; and this sense does not deceive them. They easily
distinguish between the noxious and the salutary, avoiding
the one and feeding on the other. Some animals, such as
wolves and ravens, discover their food at a distance, which,
if we were to judge from our own sense of smelling, would
appear altogether incredible. Others, as the eagle, the
hawk, and the gull, have an amazingly acute eye ; and,
from a great height, perceive mice, birds, and other objects
of prey.
As the different kinds of animals are admirably qualified
for discovering their food, so they are well formed for gather-
ing or seizing it. In graminivorous quadrupeds, there is a
remarkable correspondence between the length of the legs
and that of the neck. We do not find a very short neck in
connection with long legs. The ox, the horse, and the
sheep, are examples of the proportions of those different parts
of the body. In some of the deer kind, indeed, the neck
does not bear the same proportion to the legs as in the ani-
mals now mentioned ; but they obtain their food chiefly by
browsing on the branches of trees, in which case there is no
need for a length of neck corresponding to the legs. They
can easily pasture on an ascent ; and Vaillant assures us that
even the giraffe, the most remarkable of this tribe, is able to
drink from a stream, the surface of which is lower than the
ground on which he stands. The short neck of the elephant
is remarkably compensated by the strong and flexible pro-
boscis. [PI. XVJ. fig. 2, 3, 4, 5.]
The hooked beak of the parrot, necessary for climbing for
food or for protection, is singularly inconvenient, apparently,
for readily taking its food. The compensation is remark-
able. The upper mandible is joined to the bone of the head
by a strong membrane placed on each side of it, and not
forming one piece with the skull, as is common with other
birds. By this contrivance there is considerable motion al-
lowed to the upper mandible, and food is more easily received
into the beak. [PI. XVI. fig. 7.]
The hook in the wing of a bat is also a beautiful instance
of a compensating contrivance. [PI. XVI. fig. 6.]
FOOD OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS. 71
Monkeys are destined to live on trees ; and their four pre-
hensile members enable them to climb with the greatest facil-
ity. The tail of several kinds is a further assistance in this
way of life. The natural food of swine is chiefly the roots of
plants ; and they have a snout fitted for digging up the earth.
The goat is formed for ascending rocky precipices, to crop
the leaves of those herbs and plants on which he delights.
The squirrel feeds on the leaves and fruit of trees ; and he is
provided with feet which fit him for climbing. Woodpeckers
have strong, wedge-like bills, for piercing the bark of trees;
and they are provided with a long, slender tongue, armed
with a sharp, bony point, barbed on each side, which, by
means of a curious apparatus of muscles, they can dart out
to a great length into the chinks of the bark, or into the
holes which they have formed with their bills, in order to
transfix and draw out the insects larking there. Their legs
and feet are admirably formed for climbing, and even the
tail is made to cooperate for the same purpose. [1*1. X^V^III.
fig. 1, 2, 3.]
The tongue of the chameleon displays a very curious mech-
anism. It is contiined in a siieath at the lower part of the
mouth, and has its extremity covered with a glutinous secre-
tion. It admits of being projected to the length of six inches
from the mouth, with wonderful celerity and precision ; and
the viscous secretion on its extremity entangles the flies, and
other similar insects, which constitute the food of the cha-
meleon. [PI. XIX. fig. 1.] Water-ibwls feed upon fish,
insects, and es^gs of fish ; and their bills, legs, wings, and
whole structure, are fitted to their manner of life.* The
size and strength of the wings correspond with the circum-
stances of the different kinds of fowls. Birds of prey,
which must often seek their food at a distance, have large
and strong wings ; but in domestic birds, which can find
* The bill of the common duck is too remarkably fitted for procuring' its
food, to be passed over in silence. The upper mandible is furnished wiih larg-e
nerves, which extend to the extremity of the bill. By this means it readily dis-
tinguishes its favorite food in the mud, where it is fond of seeking- it, and by
which, also, the gratification of eating- is increased. [PI. XI V. fig-. 1.]
" There is a remarkable contrivance of this kind in the genus balcena, or
proper whale. Numerous parallel plates of the substance called whalebone
cover the palatine surface of the upper jaw, and descend vertically into the
mouth: the lower edges are fringed by long fibres, which serve the animal,
when taking in the water, to retain the molluscae with which the water abounds,
and which constitute its food." — Pa.rton.
The middle claw of the heron and cormorant is serrated, the more easily to
hold their slippery prey. The soland goose also has its bill serrated for the
same purpose. [PI. X'X. fig. 1, 2.] Ed.
72 ADAPTATIONS OP THE INFERIOR ANIMALS.
nourishment almost every where, the wings are short and
small.
Were we to run over the organs of all animals for pro-
curing their food and seizing their prey, from the trunk of
the elephant to the proboscis of the bee and butterfly
[PI. XV. fig 6, & 8.], we should every where meet with the
most astonishing adaptations and displays of the most
consummate mechanical skill. We see a vast variety of
food provided ; a corresponding variety of tastes for en-
joying it ; and all animals furnished in one way or other
with organs for taking possession of it. And is this vast,
various, and complicated system the work of chance ? Is
not design, are not wisdom and goodness obvious in the
provision made for the sustenance of the different kinds of
animals, in correspondence to their different tastes and appe-
tites ? The food does not form the taste ; but the taste di-
rects to the use of the food. Some animals could not live
on that which is grateful to the palate of others ; and al-
though the animal, in a number of instances, might support
a lingering existence on the food which it does not choose,
yet, in these cases, it would neither attain the vigor of its
nature, nor the usual term of its life. According to all our
conceptions, nothing but a designing Being could have fur-
nished provisions suitable to the nature of every animal,
and formed each animal with fit organs for gathering that
provision.
V. In many instances we find surprising adaptations of
animals to peculiar circumstances. Under this head, I shall
confine my observations to the camel and the rein-deer ; the
one a native of the arid plains in the warm and temperate
regions of Asia and Africa ; the other an inhabitant of high
latitudes. The camel is found in warm climates, and on
parched and sandy plains ; and the structure of his body, and
his habits, are accommodated to the circumstances in which
he is placed. In the regions which he inhabits, the earth is
seldom refreshed with showers; and, in many cases, only a
few stunted shrubs or herbs appear in the midst of the sandy
wilderness, or around the wells which are thinly scattered in
the desert. In this situation, his place could not be supplied
to man by any other animal. " The sand," says Denon,*
* A celebrated traveller and eng^raver. He accompanied Napoleon in his
campaigns into Italy and Egypt ; and has g-iven descriptions and representa-
tions of scenery, and events connected with his travels, which gained him a
high reputation. He died at Paris, April 28, 1823, aged 78.
ADAPTATIONS OP THE INFERIOR ANIMALS. 73
" is truly his element ; for as soon as he quits it and touches
the mud, he can hardly keep upon his feet, and his constant
trips alarm the rider for his own safety and that of his bag-
gage." His rough and spongy soles are excellently fitted
for traversing the ocean of sand : they do not crack with
the heat.
Besides the four stomachs common to ruminating animals,
the camel is furnished with a fifth, which serves as a reser-
voir for containing water. [PI. XXI.] It is peculiar to
this animal, and is so capacious that, according to Bruce,* it
can contain water sufficient to serve him for thirty days.
Russell, t in his Natural History of Aleppo, mentions a Bas-
sora caravan, in which the camels remained fifteen days
without water; but he adds, that the Aleppo and Bassora cara-
vans are seldom more than three or four days without find-
ing wells ; although, at times, when obliged to leave the com-
mon track, the camels suffer an abstinence of six or seven
days. The fifth stomach preserves the water in a state of
perfect purity and limpidity, without permitting any part of
the aliment, or of the fluids of the body, to mix with it. In
traversing the vast burning deserts, which without his aid no
human power could pass, when the camel is pressed with
thirst, or has occasion for water to macerate his dry food in
ruminating, he makes part of the water mount into his
paunch, or even as high as the oesophagus, by the contrac-
tion of certain muscles. His stomachs are possessed of a
peculiar sensibility, by which each opens to receive the food
proper to it. He scents a pool of water half a league off".
As the camel is fitted for marching through the arid wil-
derness, so he can pass over the most barren region. He
can subsist and toil on a very small quantity of food, and
that of the coarsest kind, such as wormwood, thistles, broom,
thorny shrubs, and other similar fare. When even this
rough aliment cannot be obtained, he can subsist on a few
pounded dates, or some small paste-balls of bean or barley
meal. With a single pound of such food in a day, he can
travel, for weeks together, upwards of 30 miles a day, un-
der a load of 750 or 800 pounds. As he is so surprisingly
fitted for passing parched and burning deserts, in which,
* A famous traveller, descended from the ancient race of Scottish king's. He
devoted many years in examining the antiquities, the manners, and institu-
tions of the "Abyssinians, a people then (1769) known to Europeans only by
name. He died from an accidental fall, 1794, aet. 65.
t Ph3'sician to the English factory at Aleppo, and aftervi'ards of St. Thomas*
hospital, London. His History of Aleppo is a valuable work, and has been
translated into several languages. He died, 1768.
7
74 ADAPTATIONS OF THE INFERIOR ANIMALS.
without his aid, man must inevitably perish, he is by the
Arabs emphatically styled the ship of the desert. He is
the great medium of commerce in the regions which he
inhabits; and without him the wilderness would be alto-
gether impassable.
The Arabs subsist on the milk of the female, in the dif-
ferent forms of curds, cheese, and butter ; and they often
feed on its flesh. They make slippers or harness of its skin,
and tents and clothing of its hair. When alive, this animal
is the treasure and support of its master ; and, even when
dead, contributes to his accommodation and comfort. Here,
then, we have an unsightly, but inoffensive and docile animal,
of peculiar conformation and habits ; and that conformation
and those habits admirably adapted to the physical state of
those countries where he is found. And will the atheist
allege that the sands and heat of the wilderness formed the
spongy hoof and the fifth stomach of the camel, and endued
him with the singular patience of hunger and thirst ; or that
the spongy hoof and water-bag of the camel created the vast
sandy plain, and planted the stunted thorn in the desert?
No sober man will attach the least credit to such allega-
tions ; for here we see an adaptation plainly indicative of
mind, and which could only originate from a wise and be-
nevolent First Cause.
But, leaving the parched deserts between the Euphrates
and the Gambia, let us turn our eye to the arctic regions of
America, to the mountains of Lapland, or to the wilds of
Siberia : there we meet with an animal almost as useful as
the camel, and perceive a striking adaptation in the rein-deer.
This animal is a treasure to the Laplander. In winter, it
draws his sledge with great rapidity over the frozen lakes,
rivers, and snow-clad mountains of his country. Two of
them yoked in a carriage can travel a hundred miles a day.
Besides serving the purposes of rapid transportation, they are
far more extensively useful. Their milk yields cheese ; their
flesh, a wholesome and nutritious diet. Their skin furnishes
clothing ; the tendons, bow-strings and thread ; and the bones
and horns, glue and spoons.
Let the camel and the rein-deer change places. Carry the
latter to the burning sands of Asia or Africa, and transport
the former to the confines of the arctic circle. What hap-
pens 1 Both become miserable and useless creatures. There
is no adaptation in the broad, spongy sole of the camel, and
no occasion for his fifth stomach. Neither his constitution
nor his clothing is suited to the climate. He becomes an
INSECTS. 75
unprofitable and unhappy creature : he lingers, pines, and
dies. Does the rein-deer fare better by the change 1 No.
He is unable to bear the heat of the sun and the drought of
the desert. His dense coat of hair is an intolerable burden,
and he soon falls a victim to an unsuitable climate. Now,
how shall we account for the suitableness of the creature to
the circumstances in which he is placed, but by the admis-
sion of a wise First Cause 1 Insensible must be the heart
which is not filled with admiration at such adaptations, and
callous those affections which do not glow with gratitude to
the bountiful Author of Nature.
i
>
INSECTS.
The structure of insects might furnish materials for a large
dissertation ; but it is intended to make only a few general
remarks on the subject. We admire and applaud the con-
summate skill of the artist who forms any piece of machinery
on a minute scale ; as a watch that can be set in a ring for
the finger. How delicate and exact must be the adaptation
of the parts, and how accurate the workmanship of the
whole ! Ought not a similar admiration to accompany us
when we pass through that province of nature where animal
organization is set before us in miniature? Insects are com-
monly overlooked, or regarded with an eye of careless indif-
ference. But the mechanism of their bodies, and their in-
stinctive propensities, plainly indicate a designing cause.
There is a prodigious variety of insects, differing in figure,
color, and disposition of parts. But here, as in every other
department of sentient nature, there is a close connection
between the external form and the habits of the animal. All
the tribes of insects proceed from parents like themselves.
The doctrine of spontaneous or equivocal generation was fa-
mous among ancient philosophers ; who, although they did
not think of applying it to the larger animals, where its false-
hood was obvious, thought it accounted for the appearance
of insects. Some observers of nature, perceiving that swarms
of insects appeared on different substances, such as putrid
flesh, and the leaves of plants, rashly concluded that these
diminutive animals were produced by the action of the sun
on those substances. Men long rested satisfied with this
vague notion, which at once flattered them with the belief
that they knew the truth, and relieved them from the trouble
of careful inquiry and observation. But the experiments of
76 INSECTS.
Redi,* Malpighi,t and others, dissipated the illusion, and
established the important truth, that every animal proceeds
from a parent of its own kind.|
The exquisite organization of insects has excited the ad-
miration of the most distinguished anatomists. " After an
attentive examination," says Swammerdam,^ "of the nature
and anatomy of the smallest as well as of the largest animals,
T cannot help allowing the least an equal, or, perhaps, a su-
perior degree of dignity. If, while we dissect with care the
largest animals, we are filled with admiration at the elegant
disposition of their parts, to what a height is our astonishment
raised when we discover all these parts arranged, in the least,
in the same regular manner ! " In every department of ani-
mated nature design is so obvious that it is not easy to deter-
mine where it is most conspicuously displayed.
Insects have organs of sense as well as the larger animals.
We can form no conception of any animal with more senses
than we ourselves enjoy ; and we cannot assert that all in-
sects possess as many senses as are found in man. But we
may confidently affirm that the Creator has bestowed upon
them as many as are necessary for their preservation, in their
respective conditions. All insects enjoy the sense of feeling
in common with other animals. In some of them, we can
discover no organs of vision ; but many of them have two
eyes, and some of them have more. It may not be easy to
point out the ears of these minute animals ; but it is certain
that many of them possess the sense of hearing, or something
analogous to it. Many of them seem capable of discovering
their food by smelling; and they appear to exercise taste in
the selection of it. Our inability to discover the organs of
any particular sense in insects, is no evidence tliat they are
* A celebrated naturalist of Florence. He was not only a learned man, but
a liberal patron of learning-. He died,lG97.
t A physician of Bologna j author of several curious and important discov-
eries in anatomy.
:|: The dragon-fly — to mention one out of a thousand remarkable instances — is
an inhabitant of the air, and cannot exist in water 5 yet, in this element, which
is alone adapted for her young, she drops her eggs.
Not less surprising is tlie parental instinct of the gadfly (gasterophilus eqni),
whose larvffi are destined to be nourished in the stomach and intestines of the
horse ! How shall the parent convey them there ? By a mode truly extraor-
dinary. Flying- round the animal, she curiously poises her body while she depos-
its her eggs on the hairs of his skin. Whenever, therefore, the horse chances
lo lick the part of his body to which they are attached, they adhere to the
tongue, and from thence pass into the stomach and intestines. And what in-
creases our surprise is, that the fly places her eggs ahuost exclusively on the
knee and the shoulder; on those parts the horse is sure to lick. — Paxton.
^ An eminent entomologist of Amsterdam. He studied and wrote several
works of merit at Leyden. He died, 1680.
INSTINCT. 77
destitute of that sense. The organs may be so minute as
altogether to elude our discernment. Besides, insects may
enjoy something analogous to our senses, though not through
the medium of organs constructed as ours are.
In insects (I use the word in a vague sense), respiration is
carried on by means of trachecB, or air-tubes, running below
the skin, and communicating with the surface by numerous
openings. In some of them, the air passes through the cu-
ticle in every part of the body. Their organs for the recep-
tion of their aliment are very differently formed. Such of
them as eat have claws for seizing their food, and teeth for
gnawing and comminuting it. Those which subsist by suck-
ing fluids are provided with a pump, longer or shorter, ac-
cording to their necessities. Many kinds, which, at first
sight, appear to have no opening for the reception of nour-
ishment, are furnished with two large pincers on their head
for the conveyance of their aliment. There is much variety
in the internal organization of insects; but in all of them the
great process of nutrition is successfully carried on.
Insects can provide for their safety in different ways.
Some escape by flight. Some, for the purpose of conceal-
ment, make their abode in places of the same color with
themselves. The skin of some is so hard as to form a kind
of coat of mail ; and some are provided with a formidable
sting. No species perishes, either through its own help-
lessness, or the violence of its enemies. [Plates XV. and
xxn.]*
CHAPTER V.
INSTINCT.
On glancing at animated nature, a grand characteristic
of man presents itself to our view; his capacity of reasoning,
deliberating, planning, and varying the means which he em-
ploys for the accomplishment of his ends according to the
exigencies of the case. The inferior animals almost always
use the same means for the attainment of the same ends.
They are either altogether incapable of reasoning, or possess
the faculty in a very low degree; and, accordingly, if we
meet with any improvement among them, it is that of a few
* The number of species of insects known to entomologists, and preserved in
cabinets, is, at present, not less than forty thousand. Tliis number, however,
must probably form a small proportion of the whole number which exist upon
earth. — Dr. Ware.
7*
78 INSTINCT.
individuals only, under the special instruction of man ; not
of the species, or of a society. But we see men in one age,
or in one country, without knowledge, and without curiosity,
roaming, singly or in little bands, in the desert ; without fore-
sight or steady industry ; rudely feeding on the spontaneous
fruits of the earth, or on the precarious supplies of fishing
and hunting ; and lodging in a cave, under the projection of
a rock, in the shelter of a thicket, or under a tent of stakes
covered with bushes, bark, or skins ; the erection of which
is scarcely the labor of an hour. Their clothing is as rude
and scanty as their other accommodations.
At another period, or in a difierent country, we find them
comfortably clad ; surrounded with flocks and herds, and re-
moving from place to place for the conveniency of pasture ;
occasionally soliciting the earth, by means of agriculture, to
contribute more liberally to their subsistence and comfort;
living in movable habitations, and enjoying unpolished plenty.
If we still follow the stream of human improvement, after
passing different stages and through various scenes, we come
to a busy multitude pursuing, with ambitious industry, their
several employments, under the protection of equal laws;
building houses ; clearing the forest ; planting trees ; applying
all the powers of their labor and ingenuity to the cultivation
of the soil ; plunging into the bowels of the earth in quest of
minerals ; draining marshes and lakes, and straightening
the water-course ; making roads and bridges ; digging canals
and deepening rivers ; engaged in manufactures and com-
merce ; exchanging the productions of one quarter of the
globe for the superfluities of another ; building and embellish-
ing magnificent cities ; forming literary and scientific estab-
lishments ; impressing air, fire, and water, into their service ;
constructing machines for the abridgment of labor ; exploring
the different corners of the earth, and making themselves ac-
quainted with the inhabitants and the productions of every
country ; investigating the physical laws of the universe ;
ascertaining the motions and magnitudes of the heavenly
bodies; calculating the distances of the sun and planets,
measuring the velocity of light, and observing the aberration
of the fixed stars.
Such is a sketch of the career of society from rudeness to
civilization, agreeably to the different states in which man-
kind have been found.* The individual exhibits something
of a similar progress in improvement. His first efforts are
* Nothins^ that has been here said is intended to apply to the original state of
man •, 5iil merely to mark his progress from the lowest state of degradation in
whicli he has been found to the highest degree of civilization.
INSTINCT. 79
awkward ; his productions rude and clumsy. He improves
by observation and practice, and gradually advances from one
stage of excellence to another. The observation applies, not
to his mechanical skill only, but to his moral and intellectual
attainments also.
If we turn our eye to the inferior animals, a very different
picture is presented to our view. Every species is stationary.
With some minute modifications, depending on local circum-
stances, it is the same in every age and in every country.
In cases, indeed, where the inferior animals are trained to
the service of man, their natural disposition and habits are,
by subjugation and discipline, occasionally, in some respects,
altered and improved. Any progressive attainment, however,
is merely that of the individual. Societies never advance.
In most instances, the individual also is altogether stationary.
The bird builds its nest, and the bee constructs its cell, as
perfectly on the first attempt, and without either instruction
or experience, as at any future period. This, I apprehend,
is instinct in the strictest sense of the word. I do not pre-
tend to draw a distinct line between reason and instinct, or
in every instance to determine where the one ends and the
other begins. But the general notion of instinct is, a pro-
pensity prior to experience, and independent on education.
Some instincts, however, are capable of accommodation, or
even of improvement. The creature is susceptible of some
degree of education. But other instincts, particularly those
of insects, are invariably the same.
In this chapter, I purpose to take notice of some of the
instincts of the inferior animals relating to the preservation
of the individual, and to the continuation of the species. In
the last chapter, I made some observations on corporeal or-
ganization, and shall now attend to the corresponding in-
stincts. These, at times, are so closely connected, and so
run into each other, that it is not easy to treat of them alto-
gether separately. As, in the last chapter, our attention was
chiefly turned to organization, so, in the present, instinct will
be our main subject.
I. The different kinds of animals instinctively make use
of the means of defence and safety with which they are pro-
vided. The calf pushes with its head, even before its horns
appear — a proof that the instinct exists prior to the expansion
of the parts for the employment of which it is implanted.
The horse uses both his teeth and his heels, or treads down
his adversary with his fore feet ; although in a wild state his
heels are the main instrument of defence ; and it may be
80 INSTINCT.
added, that, in that state, when horses sleep, one remains
awake to give warning of approaching danger. The dog, in
combating the enemy, employs his teeth, and the feline tribe
uses both teeth and claws. The insect has recourse to its
sting. The ox never attempts to bite, nor the dog to butt
with his head : each of them instinctively feels that he pos-
sesses more effectual means of defence. The hare has re-
course to flight, and commonly betakes itself to high ground,
as the length and muscularity of its posterior extremities give
it an advantage in ascending the hill. By its doublings, it
often perplexes and eludes the enemy. The cunning of the
fox, in providing his food and in making his escape from his
pursuers, is proverbial.
The inferior animals instinctively know their enemies, and
apprise each other of their common danger. The fox devours
birds ; and birds no sooner see him approach than they utter
cries, which are understood by the whole flock, and put them
instantly upon their guard. Every dam has a call for her
young, and in every flock and herd there are expressions
which bring numbers together ; expressions of enjoyment or
suffering, of desire or aversion. By a particular sound, the
hen invites her chicks to partake of food ; and they instantly
comply with, the invitation. By a different cry she apprises
them of danger on the approach of the hawk, and, although
they have never heard the cry before, they hasten to her for
concealment and shelter.
When marmots are gamboling among the grass, they sta-
tion one of their number as sentinel upon a rock. If the
sentinel perceive a man, an eagle, a dog, or any other enemy,
by a whistle, he gives his companions notice of their danger,
and he is the last to enter the hole leading to their habitation.
Monkeys, and several other animals, employ similar precau-
tions. In many instances, animals of the same kind combine
their efforts in order to repel a common enemy. A single rook
is no match for a kite ; but whenever the kite appears, the
rooks that are within sight join in attacking him. The migra-
tion of birds discovers a wonderful instinct, and may be con-
sidered as a means of security. Several kinds of them, at
stated seasons, quit their summer abodes, and, in great flocks,
repair to the places where the temperature is most suited
to their constitutions, or where their food is most abundant.
Many animals instinctively employ proper means for heal-
ing their wounds and curing their diseases. The Kamtscha-
dales confess that they owe to the bears all their skill both in
physic and surgery ; that, by observing the herbs with which
INSTINCT. 81
those animals rub their wounds, and to which they have re-
course when sick or languid, they have become acquainted
with most of the simples in use among them, either in the
way of internal medicine, or of external application. In
short, as all animals possess some means of defence and
safety, so they have corresponding instincts which prompt
them to the due application of those means.
II. As the inferior animals are provided with instruments
for procuring their food, so they are endued with an instinc-
tive skill in the use of those instruments. Every animal in-
stinctively knows the food that will nourish it. The chick,
almost as soon as it escapes from the shell, runs to its food,
and pecks with its bill. The principal food of the rein-deer,
in winter, is a kind of white moss ; and the animal digs with
its feet under the snow in order to obtain it. Sheep act in
a similar manner. The beaver lays up a stock of winter
provision : the squirrel does the same. Numbers of the crow
kind hide food in holes, when they have it in plenty, and ap-
ply to their concealed stores in times of scarcity. When ra-
vens find themselves unable to break the shells of muscles,
and other testacca, they carry them to a great height in the
air, and accomplish their purpose by letting them fall upon a
rock. In some parts of the country, furze is occasionally, in
seasons of scarcity, thrashed as food for horses; but the horse
can perform the operation for himself He tramples upon
the branches, and paws them with his fore feet, till the prickles
are mashed together or rubbed off; and so completely does
he perform the work, that the food thus prepared might be
squeezed by the hand with impunity.
Gass* informs us, that, in the country towards the source
of the Missouri, wolves, in packs, hunt the antelope, which
is too swift to be run down by a single wolf The wolves
take their station ; part of the pack begins the chase, and,
running in a circle, they at intervals relieve each other.
From Le Page de Pratz,t in his History of Louisiana, we
learn that wolves discover a similar sagacity in hunting the
buffalo. The arctic gull, which is somewhat larger than the
common gull, often pursues it. The gull, after flying for
some time, with loud screams and evident marks of terror,
drops its dung, which its pursuer immediately darts at, and
catches before it falls into the sea. In insects that undergo
* Author of a Journal of the Voyages and Travels of a Corps of Discovery
under the Command of Captains Lewis and Clarke, in the years 1804 — 1806.
Mr. Gass was one of this exploring party.
t Author of a History of Louisiana, 2 vols., translated from the French.
(London, 1763.)
WS INSTINCT.
several transformations, the instinctive propensity changes
with the appearance of the animal. Some that in one stage
feed on putrid bodies, in another extract a delicious aliment
from herbs and flowers. This instinctive sagacity appears
throughout all animated nature.
III. Many animals live without any fixed habitation, and
the dwelling which others frequent is of the simplest kind ;
as the form of the hare's. Some animals have no particular
place of residence during winter, as many kinds of birds, but
prepare a place in spring for bringing forth and rearing their
young. Others, as the beaver, have no fixed residence in
summer, but provide a comfortable habitation against the
severity of winter. In the construction of their houses many
animals display much sagacity ; and as an example of this
we may select the beaver. He is a native chiefly of high
latitudes, and, though not possessed of all that surprising sa-
gacity and ingenuity which some distinguished naturalists
have ascribed to him, is endued with wonderful instincts.
The beavers, when numerous, construct their houses on
the margin of ponds, lakes and rivers. They always choose
a place where the water is so deep as not to freeze to the
bottom. When they build on small rivers, where the water
is liable to be drained off by a failure in the sources which
supply the stream, they provide against the evil by making a
dam quite across the river at a convenient distance from their
houses. This shows the foresight and sagacity of an engi-
neer in erecting a fort, or marking out the ground for the
site of a city. The shape of the dam varies according to
circumstances. If the current of the river be slow, the dam
runs almost straight across ; but if the current be rapid, the
dam is formed with a considerable curve towards the stream,
so that the different parts of it support each other, like an
arch. The materials employed are drift wood, green wil-
lows, birch and poplars, if they can be gotten ; also mud and
stones, intermixed in such a manner as contributes much to
the strength of the dam, which, when the beavers are allow-
ed long to frequent a place undisturbed, by frequent repairs,
becomes very firm.
The beavers always cut their wood higher up the river
than their houses, so that they enjoy the advantage of the
stream in conveying it to the place of its destination. On
the margin of lakes, where they have always a sufficient depth
of water, they construct no dams. Their houses, however,
are built of the same materials as the dams; and their di-
mensions are suited to the number of inhabitants, which sel-
INSTINCT. bJf
dom exceeds four old and six or eight young ones. The
great aim of the beaver is, to have a dry bed ; and their
houses, which are but rude structures, have only one door,
always opening to the water.* The otter, likewise, discov-
ers much sagacity in forming his habitation. He burrows
under ground, on the banks of rivers and lakes. He always
makes the entrance to his house under water, working up-
wards towards the surface of the earth, and forming different
chambers in his ascent, that, in case of high floods, he may
still have a dry retreat. He forms a small air-hole reaching
to the surface ; and, for the purpose of concealment, this air-
hole commonly opens in a bush.
The marmot, also, displays a surprising instinct in pre-
paring his habitation. In the declivity of a hill he digs two
small subterraneous passages, opening at some distance from
each other. They gradually ascend, and approach each
other, till they meet in a common trunk. In this common
trunk, the marmots form a level dwelling, and carpet it care-
fully with moss and hay. One of the passages forms an en-
trance to the house ; in the other the excrements are depos-
ited. A number of marmots lodge in the same house, which
is formed by their united labor. On feeling the approach of
winter, they closely shut up the passages to their house, and
sleep till the return of spring. In the marmot, Spallanzanit
found living action to cease in a temperature about 29° or
30° Fahrenheit.
IV. In this section we shall take notice of instincts rela-
ting to the continuation of the species.
Throughout the wide extent of animated nature, so far as
it falls under our observation, individuals die, but the species
continues. The Author of that constitution of things, which
carries into execution the first of these, has made an adequate
provision for the last. The reproductive powers of the differ-
ent kinds of animals are admirably adjusted to their natural
term of life, and to the dangers to which they are exposed ;
so that no species ever perishes. Even where the life of the
individual does not extend beyond the short space of a day,
there is as sure a provision made for the continuation of the
species, as where the life of the individual extends to a hun-
* See Hearae's Journey to the Coppermine River. Hearne was an English
traveller in the service of the Hudson's Bay Company. He was employed, in
1769, to explore the north-western part of the American continent. He died in
1792. The narrative of his researches is entitled " A Journey from the Prince
ofWales's Fort, in Hudson's Bay, to the Northern Ocean (1795; 4to.)
t Professor of natural history at Pavia, and author of many valuable works.
He died, 1779.
84 INSTINCT.
dred years. The kinds which are liable to great peril and
waste are very prolific, and the fecundity of those which are
less exposed to danger is confined within narrower limits.
Hares and rabbits bring forth far more young than lions and
tigers ; wrens are much more prolific than eagles ; and the
fecundity of cod-fish and salmon greatly exceeds that of the
whale.
The earth exhibits some wonderful organic remains. The
bones of those animals to which the names mammoth, mega-
thcrion, &c. have been assigned, indicate skeletons unlike to
those of any living creature presently known ; and we pre-
tend not fully to account for the remains described by Cuvier
and others. Some of them, at least, seemed to have belonged
to the globe, under a constitution anterior to the present.
But although we cannot satisfactorily explain these phenome-
na, yet we are acquainted with no clear evidence of the de-
struction of any species of animals that ever belonged to the
earth under its present forms.
For the production and rearing of their young, there is, in
every kind of animals, a most astonishing combination of or-
ganization and instinct. Neither of these is sufficient by it-
self. The organization without the instinct would be unpro-
ductive, and the instinct without the organization would be
of no avail ; but united they fully accomplish the end. We
are satisfied that nothing like legitimate evidence can be ad-
duced to prove that the organization is the cause of the in-
stinct. They are wonderfully conjoined ; but we believe
they are independent on each other, as much as the candle
and the candlestick, the ink and the inkstand. Is not, then,
the combination of two such independent circumstances, for
an important purpose, a decisive evidence of intelligence and
design 1 If it be urged that the organization is the cause of
the instinct, we wish to know who formed this constitution
of things. Who formed the organization which is accompa-
nied with such instincts 1 It was not chance, surely, but an
intelligent and wise cause.
We shall make a few more remarks on the instincts rela-
ting to the continuation of the species, under the heads of the
nidification and incubation of birds, providing food for the
young, and defending them.
1. Among the feathered tribes, pairing is very commoru
In winter, indeed, birds in general are without any fixed hab-
itation ; and many kinds of them appear in large flocks, with-
out any particular attention of one individual to another. On
the return of spring, however, the scene changes. The gen-
INSTINCT. 89
era! society is dissolved, and many partnerships, consisting
each of a male and female, are formed. The pair fix on a suit-
able spot, and by their joint labor construct a habitation.
2. Most birds prepare their nests with much care ; and
many of them discover ingenuity in the design, and neatness
in the execution. But the ingenuity and the neatness belong
to the species, and in no degree characterize individuals.
They have no need of an apprenticeship. The nest of those
birds which have paired for the first time is not more rude or
inconvenient than that of those which have repeated the labor
of nidification for a number of years. There is no deficiency
in the first from want of instruction and practice, and the last
have gained nothing by observation and experience.
The dove that perched upon the Tree of Life,
And made her bed among its thickest leaves,
All the winged habitants of Paradise,
Whose song-i once mingled with the songs of Angels,
Wove their first nests as curiously and well
As the wood-minstrels in our evil day.
The crow and the magpie, the lark and the linnet, and
every other kind, has each a peculiar manner of building its
nest ; and every individual of the same species, in similar
circumstances, follows the same model, and uses similar
materials. The instinctive propensity seems, in various in-
stances, to accommodate itself to peculiar circumstances,
both in building the nest, and in the process of incubation.
In countries infested by monkeys, some birds, which in other
climates build in bushes or in the clefts of trees, suspend
their nests upon a slender twig, and so elude the mischievous
propensities of the monkey. With us, ravens build on trees ;
but in the cold climates of Iceland and Greenland, they con-
struct their nests in the holes of rocks.
The nest is always suited to the size of the bird, and to the
number of its eggs and young. Many small birds display
much sagacity in concealing their nests by tufts of grass, or
by twigs and leaves. In the nest we see a receptacle pro-
vided for eggs before they come to maturity, even before the
bird knows that it is to lay them. Each species lays a de-
terminate liumber ; and it appears that, in this process, some
birds, at least, do not act under the influence of physical ne-
cessity, but have, to a certain extent, an instinctive volition.
The soland goose, if undisturbed, lays only one egg ; but if
that be taken away, she lays a second ; if the second be re-
moved, she lays a third ; but no more for the season. In a
number of instances, if one egg be daily abstracted from the
8
86 INSTINCT.
nest, the bird continues laying till she obtain her comple-
ment. In this way a swallow has been made to lay nineteen
eggs in one season.
In general, the smallest kinds of birds are most prolific ;
but from this general rule there are some exceptions. The
eagle lays one, sometimes two eggs ; the crow, four or five ;
the titmouse, seven or eight; the small European wren, fif-
teen ; the humming-bird, however, a very little creature, lays
only two; and yet the humming-birds are more numerous in
America than the wrens in Europe, being protected by the
smallness of their size, the rapidity of their flight, and their
daring courage. After the complement of eggs is provided,
a new and interesting scene is exhibited. All the former
habits of the bird seem at once to forsake it. The animal
that before was almost in perpetual motion, hopping from
twig to twig, flitting from tree to tree, rising into the air,
flying to considerable distances, chirping and singing, be-
comes at once motionless and mute. She takes possession
of her nest, and with assiduity broods on her eggs. In some
instances, as in rooks and in crows, the male supplies her with
food ; and in others, as in pigeons, relieves her by filling her
place. In this way, the small eggs, which otherwise would
soon lose their heat, are always kept at the due temperature.
We may add that the albumen, or white of the egg, is a
feeble conductor of caloric, and consequently tends to pre-
serve, during the occasional absence of the parent bird, that
equable temperature which is so necessary to the evolution
of the ovular embryo.
The eggs of the larger birds, on account of tlieir greater
size, retain heat longer than those of the smaller birds : ac-
cordingly, the larger birds occasionally leave their nests for
some time, without injury to the process of incubation. Some
of them, however, when they go to feed, cover their eggs;
the eider-duck does it with down taken from her own breast.
But small birds sit most assiduously, otherwise their eggs
could not be hatched. Here we find an amazing adaptation
of instinct to the circumstances of the animal, for which we
see no rational way of accounting, without ultimately resort-
ing to a wise first cause. The bird does not understand the
process which it is carrying on : it does not know the end to
be accomplished ; yet it carries on the process with the most
minute precision, in opposition to all its habits during the
other seasons of the year ; and in the absence of disastrous
accidents, arising from foreign causes, it accomplishes the
end with infallible certainty.
INSTINC*. 87
Fish, with a few exceptions, are oviparous ; and generally,
after depositing their eggs, pay no further attention to their
progeny. There are, however, some striking exceptions.
The female cayman repairs to the banks of a river ; forms a
large hole in the sand, and there deposits her eggs. She
covers them carefully, and rolls herself on the place to smooth
it, that it may not be discovered. She leaves her eggs to be
hatched in the sand ; but her instinctive propensity prompts
her to return, at the exact time, to uncover them and break
the shells, when the young caymans come forth.
3. The instinctive propensities of animals do not terminate
with the appearance of their progeny in the world, but con-
tinue as long as the aid of the parent is needful for rearing
the offspring. Most animals have a strong affection for their
young, which manifests itself in providing food for them.
And in order to the supply of this food, there is, in many in-
stances, a wonderful physical constitution in the parent, as
well as surprising instincts in the progeny. Thus, in the
human race, such is the constitution of the mother, that she
secretes a nutritious fluid for the support of her child, and
the secretion of this fluid accompanies the need for it. It
does not depend on volition. It does not exist at any other
time. And in the child what a wonderful instinct displays
itself in the complicated muscular action by which this fluid
is obtained ! Sucking is an operation in which the infant
soon becomes expert ; but few grown persons can perform it.
The instinctive skill is lost when the need for it ceases.
In many quadrupeds, as well as in the human race, the
mother secretes a nutritious fluid for the support of her off-
spring, and she can yield nourishment to her young while
she herself is feeding. There is a remarkable correspondence
between the instinct of the young animal and the provision
made for its support. Almost as soon as it comes into the
world, it seeks to avail itself of the provision already pre-
pared for its sustenance. Now, how happens it that this
fluid is secreted just at the time when it is needed ? Who
established that constitution of the animal by which the se-
cretion takes place ? How shall we account for the young
animal, almost at the moment of its birth, groping for the or-
gan from which it is to receive food, and employing the
means necessary for obtaining that food ?
Human infancy is long, and we find a corresponding affec-
tion and solicitude on the part of the parents. If a child be
delicate and sickly, the parents feel for it a more tender af-
fection, and exercise towards it a more assiduous attention,
88 INSTINCT.
than towards the infant of a more robust constitution. The
watchful care accommodates itself to the exigency of the
case, and generates a degree of affection, without which the
anxiety and toil would be altogether insupportable. We may
trace this process in the human mind for a little way, but it
ultimately terminates in the instinctive principles of our na-
ture. Young persons are capable of receiving instruction as
well as food fi-om their parents, and accordingly in the human
race parental affection is permanent. After it has ceased to
display itself in nourishing and defending, it appears in in-
structing and directing.
Birds do not secrete a fluid for the nourishment of their
young ; but they are diligent in providing food for them,
which is earnestly solicited and greedily received. We may
here remark, that it is the albumen chiefly which is expended
in the formation of the chick ; the yolk of the egg, without
undergoing any considerable change, being wrapped up in its
intestines to nourish it, till it receives or is capable of gather-
ing other food. In most instances young birds would inev-
itably perish without the nursing care of the parents. In
some cases, however, the young can provide for themselves
almost as soon as they escape from the shell ; and in these in-
stances the fostering instinct of the parent soon disappears.
Some insects display an astonishing instinct in providing
food for their young before they are hatched.* Others, which
make no such provision, lay their eggs in places where the
young, when they appear, can easily find subsistence. These
instincts must proceed either from the animals themselves,
or from some Being possessed of reason and intelligence ;
but they cannot originate with the inferior animal itself, for
it is obviously destitute of reason, and incapable of that fore-
sight and wisdom which its cares and precautions indicate.
In order to account for these instincts, we must ascend to a
wise and benevolent Intelligence.
4. All animals defend their young ; and, in obeying this
instinctive impulse, the mother seems, in many instances, to
lose her natural habits, and to assume a new character. The
domestic hen, a stupid and timorous bird, becomes fierce and
violent in defending her chickens. Even the harmless and
inoffensive ewe assumes a menacing air, stamps with her
foot, and seems to bid defiance to those who approach her
lamb. But as the lamb acquires strength, and is able to run
with its mother, her assumed character forsakes her, and she
* See Sincllie's Philosophy of Natural History, Dr. Ware's ed. p. 115
INSTINCT. OVI
has recourse to flight. Hinds anxiously conceal their fawns,
and, in order to draw the dogs away from them, present them-
selves to be chased. It is at once amusing and affecting to
observe the artifices employed by the lapwing to decoy the
intruder to a distance from her young.
The Kamtschadales never venture to fire upon a young
bear when the mother is near ; for if the cub falls, she be-
comes enraged to a degree little short of madness, and if she
gets sight of the enemy, will only quit her revenge with her
life. The same instinct is remarkably apparent in some in-
habitants of the waters. The morse and the polar white bear
have a great affection for their cubs, and are courageous and
active in defending them.* The sea otter pines to death at
the loss of its young, and breathes its last on the spot where
they have been taken from it. Throughout every province
of animated nature, we meet with wonderful instincts, all
directed to the preservation of the individual, and to the con-
tinuation of the species. Every instinct appears exactly in
its proper place. Were the instincts to be altered, or those
belonging to one species transferred to another, the harmony
of the system would be deranged, and disorder ensue. For
instance, were the sheep, its time of gestation continuing
the same as at present, to come in season at the same time
with the mare, it would bring forth at a period when the in-
clemency of the weather would destroy both the mother and
her young.
If instincts result, as some have imagined, from conforma-
tion of parts, who organized the animal ? If they flow from
mechanical impulse, who constructed the machine? Where
is the moving power 1 To talk of attraction, gravitation, na-
ture, appetency, &c., in order to account for the existence or
* Speaking- of the morse, Captain King- (author of the 3d volume of Cook's
Voyages to the Pacific, in 177G — 1780) says, — " On the approach of the boats
towards the ice, they took their young ones under their fins, and attempted to
escape with them into the sea. Some, whose cubs were killed, and left floating
on the surface of the water, rose again and carried them down, sometimes
just as our men were on the point of taking them into the boat, and could be
traced bearing them to a considerable distance throug-h the water, which was
stained with their blood. They were afterwards observed bringing them at in-
tervals above the surface, as if for air, and again plung-ing under it with a horrid
bellowing-. The female, in particular, whose young one had been killed and
taken into the boat, became so furious, that she struck her two tusks through
the bottom of the cutter."
The affection between the polar bear and her cub is so great, that they -will
die rather than desert each other. '' We saw two white bears in the water, to
which we immediately gave chase in the jolly-boat, and killed them both. Tho
larger, which probably was the dam of the younger, being shot first, the other
would not quit, but remained swimming about, till, after being fired upon sev-
eral times, it was shot dead."— .See Cook's Third Voiias:e.
8*
JO INSTINCT.
characteristic propensities of living creatures, is merely dark-
ening counsel by a multitude of words. It is a vain attempt
to substitute sound for sense ; for where is there any rational
way of accounting for the various instincts of animals, but
by referring them to a powerful, wise, and good Intelligence?
In the instincts of the creature we see the perfections of the
Creator; and may apply to instincts in general what Dr.
Reid says of bees in the construction of their cells. " They
work most geometrically, without any knowledge of geom-
etry; somewhat like a child, who, by turning the hand of an
organ, makes good music, without any knowledge of music.
The art is not in the child, but in him who makes the organ.
In like manner, when a bee makes its combs so geometri-
cally, the geometry is not in the bee, but in that great Geom-
etrician who made the bee, and made all things in number,
weight, and measure." If we do not see other animals dis-
playing the geometry of the bee, we observe them, in a
similar manner, employing suitable and effectual means for
the accomplishment of their ends.
Thus, in our cursory glance at animated nature, we have
seen great uniformity accompanied by surprising variety.
The same general outline, with various modifications, pre-
vails widely in the formation of living creatures. If we ex-
amine any one animal, we find its parts admirably adapted to
each other. They form a harmonious whole. By means of
bodily conformation and instinctive propensity, an adequate
provision is made for the preservation of the individual, and
the continuation of the species. Every thing goes on in a
regular and uniform course. We never see any new species
of animals appearing, nor any old kinds ceasing to exist.
We meet with no metamorphoses of animals into a species
different from that of their parents. By adventitious circum-
stances, the size, strength, and, in some measure, the in-
stincts of animals, may be altered ; but still the character of
the species remains essentially the same.
There is an amazing gradation of animated beings, but
even the classes that seem most nearly allied are distinct.
Each kind continues what it originally was. We never sec
one species either suddenly, or gradually in a long succes-
sion of ages, transformed into another. No species either
rises or falls in the scale. Men, and all other animals, con-
tinue such as they have been from the earliest records of
time. The difTerent species approach each other ; but still
they are separated by nn impassable barrier. Animated na-
ture thus exhibits undeniable marks of design, and conse-
THE OCEAN. ^1
quently leads us, with irresistible force, to a powerful, wise,
and good Being, who created, and continues to superintend,
the system.
We now proceed to inanimaicd nature ; and I apprehend
we will find it wisely constituted, and bearing a gracious re-
lation to living creatures. As nothing within the sphere of
our knowledge gives us any reason whatever to believe that
the one of these formed the other, we must attribute both to
the power, wisdom, and goodness, of a Supreme Intelligence.
CHAPTER VI.
THE OCEAN.
The terraqueous globe is an oblate spheroid, having its
equatorial diameter somewhat longer than the polar. The
globular figure is the fittest for the steady motion of the earth
in its orbit, and for its diurnal rotation on its axis : it is also
the most capacious. The earth is so firmly compacted, that
although it moves in its orbit with the prodigious velocity of
a thousand miles in a minute, yet no part of it is dissipated
or shattered. It is a globe of great solidity. Some, indeed,
have supposed that there are vast caverns in its bowels ; but
the experiments of Dr. Maskelyne* and Professor Playfair,t
on the mountain Schehallan, seem to disprove the supposi-
tion ; as they show the earth to be more dense than that
mountain, and nearly five times more dense than water.
On a general survey of the earth, the first thing that strikes
us is its division into sea and dry land, the ocean occupying
more than two thirds of the surface of the terraqueous globe.
For the ocean there is no physical necessity. The globe
might have existed without it, and probably some of the orbs
of the solar system are not provided with a proportion of
water equal to that which obtains on the earth which we
inhabit. We may suppose earth and water to exist together
* An eminent mathematician and astronomer of London. He went, in 1761,
to St. Helena, in order to o')Scrvc the transit of Venus. In 1774, he was em-
ployed at Greenwich in making observations on the eclipses of Jupiter's satel-
lites. The same year he went to Scotland to ascertain the gravitative attrac-
tion of the mountain Schehallan, in Perthshire. He died in 1811.
t Professor of mathematics at Edinburgh. The latter part of his life he de-
voted to the study of ffeolog-y. The exoeriment mentioned m the text was
made in 1816. He died 1819."
92 THE OCEAN.
without design. But if it shall appear that the ocean is a
great component part of one whole, that it is not only admi-
rably constituted in itself, but that it is essential to an estab-
lished system, then we are entitled to adduce it as an evi-
dence of design. If it be well fitted for accomplishing the
purposes which it serves in the system, it is a proof of v/is-
dom : if these purposes be beneficial, if they contribute to
the existence and happiness of sentient beings, we contend
that it is a display of goodness.
Let us glance,
I. At the ocean considered in itself;
II. At the purposes which it serves in the system of our
world.
Under the first of these heads, we shall take notice of its
saline qualities, its tides, and its inhabitants.
I. — 1. In attending to the ocean, we are struck with the
saltness of its waters. This is one grand means of resisting
putrefaction, and of preserving the great fluid mass in a whole-
some state ; for if the sea were not impregnated with saline
bodies, the putrefaction of the great mass of animal and of
vegetable matter which it contains would soon prove fatal to
the inhabitants of the earth.
Fresh and stagnant waters soon putrefy. But in the waters
of the ocean, stagnation and putrefaction are equally un-
known. According to some, the ocean is Salter in tropical
climates than in higher latitudes. But the observations and
experiments of De Pages present a different result. The
fact, however, is certain, that the water of the ocean is as free
from putrefaction at the equator as toward the pole. And we
may observe, that if within the tropics, where the tempera-
ture is highest, and the tendency to putrefaction greatest, the
water is not more salt, it there feels most sensibly the cur-
rent of rotation, or the general motion of the water from east
to west, particularly observable within the torrid zone. The
saltness of the ocean is every where proportioned to the need
for it, in order to the preservation of the water in a salubri-
ous state.*
To me it seems ev^ident that the saline qualities of the
* If the mean saltness of the sea were much greater under the equator than
in the temperate zone, a current at the bottom, from the equator towards the
pole, would be the result. The mean density of the water of the sea, on an
average, is
From 0° toM^lat 1.0272.
From 15° to 25° 1.0282.
From 30° to 44° 1.0278.
From 54° to 60° 1.0271.
Humboldt, Pers. Nar. i. 64.
THE OCEAN. 93
ocean are a proof not of design only, but of wisdom and
goodness also ; for hers we see means adapted to an end :
these means answer the end : and the end itself is beneficial.
I see no physical necessity for the saltness of the ocean. The
water, at first fresh and stagnant, might have become one
great putrid mass, destroying sentient beings in the deep, and
diffusing pestilential and deadly vapors over the dry land. In
order, then, to account for the saline impregnation of the
ocean, we must have recourse to a designing cause.
Some have endeavored to account for the saltness of the
sea, by supposing that saline particles are washed down from
the earth by the rivers, and that the ocean has derived its
saltness from the accumulation of these particles. This hy-
pothesis does not militate, in any degree, against the exist-
ence of a wise designing cause ; for still we see adequate
means employed for the accomplishment of a beneficial end,
and whatever these means are, the argument in proof of de-
sign is the same. But to me the hypothesis seems pressed
with insuperable difficulties. Were it true, we must either
suppose the saltness of the sea to be increasing, or the saline
particles of the earth to be exhausted. There is no proof,
however, that either of these is the case. The last, indeed,
is altogether out of the question ; and as to the saltness of the
sea, I believe it was the same five thousand years ago as at
this day.
According to Davy,* almost all solids and fluids, even the
purest distilled water, contain saline matter. t But I know of
no proof that the accumulation of this matter in the ocean is
derived from the rivers. If it were so, would not the sea be
more salt towards the mouths of great rivers than at a dis-
tance from them ? This is nottlio case. Lakes which have
an outlet are found to contain fresh water : those that have
no outlet are generally salt. But if the sea derived its salt-
ness from the rivers, then those lakes that are fed by rivers
should discover the saline quality in their waters, even
though they have an outlet ; for I know of no principle by
the operation of which the saline matter can be entirely car-
* An eminent chemist, who, from obscure origin, and unaided by friends,
raised himself to such distinction that he was chosen, at the age of 22, to fill the
chair of chemistry, at the Royal Institution of Loudon His testimony on the
subject of religion is too valuable to be o:;i'::icd here. " I envy," says he, " no
quality of the mind or intellect in others ; uH genius, power, wit, or fancy. But
if I could clioose what would be most del!_;l!'rul, and 1 believe most useful tome,
I should prefer a firm religious belief to exery other blessing."
t There are no saline qualities in water when first distilled. The salts men-
tioned by Sir H. Davy are subserjusnlly a!)sorbed from the atmosphere. — Ed.
94 THE OCE.AN.
ried off through the outlet. The water of Lake Ontario is as
sweet as that of Lakes Superior or Michigan ; and the inter-
vening hikes, Huron and Erie, discover no more saltness than
those from which they draw their supplies. We may add
that the De la Plata, Mississippi, and Nile, are as sweet when
they meet with the waters of the ocean as at their source.
Lakes without an outlet, or inland seas where the surface of
water is too small to feel, in any considerable degree, the at-
traction of the sun and moon, are very salt ; and, from the
conformation of the adjacent lands, they are commonly much
agitated by winds.
The Dead Sea, or Lake Asphaltites, has been long famous
on account of its saline impregnation ; and although many
fables have been related concerning it by Josephus and oth-
ers, it is true that its waters are of uncommon density. It
contains upwards oi" forty per cent, of saline matter, chiefly
muriate of magnesia and of lime. The Caspian Sea is, at
least, as salt as the ocean, except where it is sweetened by
the waters of the Volga, which is about the distance of ten
leagues from the influx of that river. It is also much agi-
tated by winds. The Black Sea is less salt than the ocean ;
but several great rivers pour their waters into it, and a con-
stant current sets through the Straits of Constantinople to-
wards the Propontis. The Lake Aral is very salt. Thus, in
small seas, there is a compensation, in one way or another,
for the want of tides. Now, if the quantity of saline impreg-
nation is, in every instance, proportioned to the circumstances
of the case, is not this an evidence of design ?
2. The tides keep the water of the ocean in perpetual mo-
tion, and contribute to the preservation of its salubrity. They
also afford a hint to man when investigating the laws of na-
ture : they are an instance of the great law or fact of gravita-
tion, which so widely pervades the universe. They depend
chiefly on the ratio in which gravity acts, and form one in-
stance of the wisdom and goodness manifested in that ratio.
Tides are owing principally to the action of the moon. If
that planet were quiescent, we would have high water twice
every 24 hours. But the moon is continually in motion round
the earth, and advances so far every 12 hours, as to make it
about 25 minutes ere any meridian of the earth, after it has
performed half a revolution, come under her centre ; and con-
sequently about 12 hours and 25 minutes intervene between
the high water of two successive tides.
Into the theory and phenomena of the tides, it is not the
object of the present treatise to enter Sufl[ice it, therefore, to
THE OCEAN. 95
say, that the tides contribute to the accomplishment of a ben-
eficial purpose ; for, by the saltness of the water, and the ac-
tion of the tides, the ocean is preserved from stagnation and
putrefaction. Here we see one purpose of a secondary planet
attending a globe constituted as ours is. There are no tides,
it may be alleged, in the Mediterranean and Baltic ; and yet
these seas, although not uncommonly salt, are as free from
putrefaction as any of the waters of the ocean. In the Med-
iterranean, however, there is a tide, though small and irregu-
lar. But there is generally a current passing through the
Straits of Gibraltar into the Mediterranean ; it sometimes sets
out, when the ebb tide in the Atlantic is great. In the Bal-
tic, the water is not so salt as in the ocean. Its saltness is
increased by a westerly gale, and the waters raised some-
what like a tide. But a current generally sets out through
the Sound, occasioned, no doubt, by the rivers which empty
themselves into the Baltic. These currents prevent stagna-
tion in the Mediterranean and Baltic. Where tides do not
act, a substitute is provided.
In connection with tides, we may mention the currents
which abound in the ocean ; and the causes of these phenom-
ena are more numerous than at first sight might be imagined.
They may be occasioned by the conformation of the coast or
of the channel of the ocean, by a difference in heat or salt-
ness, by the melting of the polar ices, or by the inequality of
evaporation in different latitudes. Several of these causes
may at times occur. The Gulf-stream is a remarkable cur-
rent, which leaves the coast of Africa about the latitude of
the Cape de Verd Islands, traverses the ocean to the Ameri-
can shore, sweeps the Gulf of Mexico, stretches north as far
as the Bank of Newfoundland, in 41°, and turns eastward to-
wards Madeira. It forms a great sea-river, in some places
near eighty leagues broad. Its waters take about two years
and ten months to perform their circuit ; and, in some places
of their course, are at a much higher temperature than the
waters of the surrounding ocean.
3. The ocean is a great scene of animal existence and en-
joyment ; and it is preserved in a fit state for being so by its
saltness and its tides. It is replenished with innumerable
inhabitants, all fitted for the element in which they reside ;
and all, so far as we are capable of judging, enjoying a hap-
piness suitable to their natures. Thus, I think, the ocean
proves the existence of a powerful, wise, and good Intelli-
gence, by the provision made for maintaining the salubrity
of its waters, and by its innumerable inhabitants.
96 THE OCEAN.
II. Let us glance at the purposes which the ocean serves
in the system of our world.
Here we find it of essential importance. Without it the
globe would be a barren and lifeless desert, presenting one
uniform prospect of dismal sterility and melancholy silence ;
adorned by no verdure, and cheered by no busy scenes of
life and enjoyment. To the ocean we are indebted for the
beauty and fertility of the dry land. It is the great fountain
of moisture; refreshing and fertilizing the earth, and furnish-
ing an abundant and wholesome beverage to man and beast.
Water is exhaled from the ocean ; floats in the atmosphere
in the form of vapor; and is precipitated in dew, hail, rain,
or snow, supplying the aliment of vegetation to plants and
herbs, and yielding a salubrious drink to living creatures.
By the channel of the rivers it again returns to the bosom of
the ocean ; and in this circle it perpetually moves, support-
ing a great system of animal and vegetable existence. It
deserves to be remarked, that water, although it proceeds
from the sea, yet is fresh when it descends in rain. If much
ingenuity be required to render sea-water sweet, shall we
deny the wisdom of Him who constructed the great labora-
tory in which the process is carried on with unfailing precis-
ion and success, on the vast scale of nature? And if wis-
dom be displayed in the accomplishment of the end, that end
is unquestionably a proof of goodness. It is the means of
supplying a necessary aliment suited to our constitution, and
to which, by admixture, we can communicate any taste or
flavor that we please. The earth is so formed as to receive
the water into reservoirs, to filtrate it, and to give it out in
perennial streams, for the constant supply of our wants.
At first sight, the ocean seem.s an insurmountable barrier
between different portions of the globe, separating them as
effectually from each other as if they were parts of different
planets. But we soon perceive that, even in this point of
view, it harmonizes with the rest of the system, giving scope
to human ingenuity, and inviting to the exercise of vigorous
exertion. Men soon learn to commit themselves to the sea,
and to combat winds and waves. Even before civilization is
far advanced, intrepid skill or casual misfortune carries them
to great distances, and spreads them widely over the face of
the earth. The inhabitants of the far-scattered islands of
the Pacific Ocean speak nenrly the same language ; and must
all, at no very distant period, have sprung from a common
origin, and diverged from a central point.
The ocean becomes the medium of a vast and boundless
WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE. 97
intercourse between nations. It facilitates the communica-
tion between the most distant parts of the earth, and the ex-
change of the commodities of different climates. No coun-
try is supplied with such a rich variety of the necessaries and
accommodations of life, but that it may admit the introduc-
tion of foreign superfluities ; and even the poorest furnishes
materials for exportation. The ocean is the great medium
of commercial intercourse. It also modifies the temperature
of the atmosphere on the land, rendering it warmer than it
would otherwise be in high latitudes, and cooling it in trop-
ical climates. It is, also, an inexhaustible storehouse o^
human food.
How f:ir, and in what particular manner, the ocean and
the exhalations from it, contribute to the purification of the
air that has been contaminated by the vegetation of plants,
and the respiration of animals, I do not at present inquire;
although I am satisfied that their operation, in this respect,
is of essential importance. Thus wisdom and goodness ap-
pear in covering such a portion of the globe with water, and
in preserving it from stagnation and putrefaction. In this
way an inexhaustible fountain of moisture and fertilization
is established ; a fit place of residence for innumerable sen-
tient beings is provided ; the means of facilitating the inter-
course of distant nations are devised ; and a great storehouse
is opened for supplying the wants and diversifying the enjoy-
ments of man.
CHAPTER VII.
WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE.
In addition to the obvious utility of water in supplying the
basins of the ocean, and lakes, and the beds of rivers, there
are so many striking evidences of design and goodness in
the formation and utility of water, considered as a compound
chemical substance, that we cannot with propriety withhold
a somewhat extended consideration of it. What follows is
from the gifted pen of J. K. Mitchell, M. D., of Philadelphia,
to whom the science of chemistry is not a little indebted.
"One of the most abundant substances in the worLl, water
is also one of the most useful, whether W€ view it in the
agency of its elements, or in the milder actions of its com-
9
98 WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE.
pound State; Every where present, it is every where active,
and the extent and variety of the phenomena presented by it
are such as a life-time of observation could not note, nor a
century of experience appreciate. This is itself a very strik-
ing fact; for if the very different and even opposite uses sub-
served by water, were fulfilled by as many various substances,
either they would be scarce or inaccessible in many places,
or, being all widely diffused, w^ould stand in the way of each
other, and encumber the beings they were made to benefit.
Capable of assuming all the/onws of matter, acting the part
of a solid, a liquid, or a gas ; susceptible of decomposition in
to two potent constituents, water admits of a prodigious extent
and variety of application. It is, although obedient to most
of the lavv's by which other matter is governed, gifted with
some singular exemptions, so obviously the effect of design as
to have drawn forth a declaration to that effect from every
one who has observed them. The most remarkable of these
peculiarities is that which exempts water from obedience to
a law otherwise universal, viz. that all liquids are expanded,
though in different degrees, by the increase of their temper-
ature. To this rule water is partially submissive ; and from
40° F. up to its boiling point, it is constantly expanded by
augmented temperature. But below 40°, the rule is violated,
and the addition of heat invariably causes a contraction.
Water, therefore, at, or very near to 40°, is the heaviest water ;
for, whether we heat or cool it, beginning at that tempera-
ture, it is increased in bulk, or lessened in specific gravity.
For this reason the refrigeration of the surface of water makes
that surface heavier, and it sinks into the warmer liquid be-
low it, until the whole of the fluid in the vessel is reduced to
the temperature of 40° F. Cooled below that point, the sur-
face of water, contrary to the general law% becomes lighter
as it loses heat, and remains at the top until its temperature
falls to 32°, when it is transformed into ice. This very curi-
ous exception to a law, otherwise uniform in its application
to liquids, appears to have been necessary to the welfare,
and even the continued existence, of animals. Were water
subject to the usual law of expansion by heat at all tempera-
tures, the consequences would be disastrous. Before any ice
could be formed in any river or lake, all its waters would be
reduced to the freezing point — a temperature at which few
aquatic animals could long survive. Then the place where
ice would begin to form, would depend on accident, or the
presence of solid bodies, around which, as nuclei, it would
WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE. 90
collect. But the fishes, being of the temperature of water,
would form centres of aggregation, and become enveloped in
ice, disabled from motion, and put to a cruel death.
The exception to the general law enables the heat of spring
and summer to readily restore warmth to the water; for when
the surface becomes warmer, it sinks into the colder though
lighter liquid beneath, until the whole mass is raised again
to 40°, when, the usual law becoming applicable, the warmer
water remains at the top. If it were otherwise, the cold fluid
at the bottom of a lake could not be brought near to the sur-
face, and it would continue cold until the following winter,
acquiring a still lower temperature ; until finally the streams
and lakes would become solid masses, mighty glaciers, un-
tenanted themselves, and rendering uninhabitable the adja-
cent country. The population, if it could still exist, would
not congregate on the river-courses and lake country, but
would fly as far as possible from the desolate streams, which
now, teeming with fishes, and covered with the white sails
of commerce, afford to man delicious food and easily-acquir-
ed wealth.
Water offers, in freezing, another unusual exception to a
general law. Most liquids, in passing to the solid state, are
lessened in volume, or become heavier, so that solids usually,
though not always, sink in their corresponding liquids. Thus
lead, which is solid, sinks in melted lead. But water is ex-
panded by congelation, and therefore ice floats and covers
the lakes and rivers, during winter, with a solid crust, af-
fording a bridge for migratory animals, and presenting to the
escape of heat from the water below, a useful, though imper-
fect barrier. But the expansion of water in freezing is of
still greater use. As winter approaches, the earth becomes
wet with frequent rains ; and ' when,' says the Indian proverb,
* the pools are full, the ice and snow will come.' Even the
hardest and most compact soils are thus moistened. But
the frost follows the water into the ground, converts every
drop near the surface into ice, the expansion of which forces
asunder the adherent particles of earth, and renders the soil
loose and spongy for the better reception and nutrition of
grass, seeds, and the roots of trees and shrubs. But for this
singular property, how many cold and sterile wastes would
frown, where now there is verdure and luxuriancy ! In this
manner, too, the more friable rocks are dilapidated, and af-
ford materials for the creation or enrichment of soils, with
much greater rapidity than under the less active forces of the
other elements of decay.
100 WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE.
No Other liquid freezes at or about the temperature of the
formation of ice, wh ch takes place at 32° of Fahrenheit's
thermometer. Mercury and ether are frozen at a temperature
at least 71° lower ; and alcohol has never yet been converted
into a solid by any degree of cold, however great. But had
the freezing point of water been materially different, what
disastrous events would have mastered the world ! If it were
to freeze at a higher temperature, we should have the lakes
and rivers in icy chains during the spring time and autumn ;
and our fields, instead of drinking in the genial showers of
April, would often be covered with unfertilizing snow, when
the plants and the flowers were looking up to the clouds for
refreshment and food. The grass would be withdrawn from
the reach of the ox and the horse, and the seeds would lie on
the ground inaccessible to the birds, in the very season of
maternal anxiety and care. Instead of the loose and friable
soil, we should encounter, during the greater part of the year,
a hard and unyielding crust, unfit for the reception of seeds
or the stimulation of vegetable growth. If the freezing point
were, on the other hand, considerably loivcr, still more ter-
rible consequences would follow. Instead of reposing under
the dry, light, and shielding snow of winter, the earth would
often be deluged with water too cold for its living things ;
and they would perish. Think of getting wet in a sliower at
the temperature of 20° or 1G°! But this water would pene-
trate the earth, and carry down its coldness beyond the reach
of the summer sun, and chill the soil into barrenness and
desolation. A thousand ills would spring from any material
alteration of the freezing point of water ; but, happily, that
temperature was selected for it by Him who, foreseeing all
things, has not forgotten the lightest matter in his multitu-
dinous universe.
The specific gravity of water is the very best which could
be given to it. If lighter, it would not be sufficiently buoy-
ant for animals or ships ; and if much heavier, the fishes
could not remain beneath its surface. Any animal would
sink in alcohol, or ether, or oil; and on a sea of mercury it
would be impossible to ballast a ship with any thing but gold
or platinum. Its gravity, therefore, is nicely proportioned to
the weight of fishes and other animals, to the timber of which
ships are built, and to the means of ballasting them.
Compared with that of other liquids, the capacity of water
for heat is not a little remarkable. In passing through a
given range of temperature, water absorbs nearly thirty
times as much heat a^ the same weight of mercury, and about
WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE. 101
twice as much as alcohol, oil, or ether. The lakes, rivers,
and oceans become, therefore, during smnmer, vast maga-
zines of heat, cooling the air by their great capacity for ca-
loric heat, and storing it up to be given out again when the
temperature of the air declines. So that the v/aters resist
sudden and great changes of temperature, both by imbibing
and giving out, according to circumstances, a very large
quantity of caloric ; and as so large a portion of the terrestri-
al surface is occupied by water, the earth is not only made
more habitable, but more healthful and agreeable. It is to
this exorbitant capacity of water that we owe the land and
sea breezes, by which tropical islands and coasts are so re-
freshingly fanned. For as the land, being of less capacity
than water, is more quickly warmed by the sun, a sea breeze
is created during the day; whilst, as, during the night, the
land, for the same reason, cools faster, a land breeze is pro-
duced. This vast capacity preserves the waters from freez-
ing to a much later period of winter, and tends to temper the
march of spring, and to prevent sudden thaws and violent
inundations. If the capacity of water for heat were low, the
fluids of the deepest lakes would soon be reduced to the tem-
perature necessary to form ice, and the lakes and rivers would
be withdrawn for a much longer period of each year from the
uses of commerce. But as the water holds so vast a quantity
of heat, it maintains a long conflict with winter, and in some
insular situations, tempers its severity for the whole season.
Even when ice 25 formed, the process is useful in lessening
the severity of cold ; for the ice, being of much less capacity
than water, yields up, in passing to a solid state, a very large
quantity of caloric, which renders more difficult the solidifi-
cation of the rest, and gives warmth to the surrounding air.
For a like reason, the ice, as it melts into water in the
spring, absorbs so great a quantity of caloric as to temper the
onset of heat, and make the thaw gradual. Otherwise the
liquefaction would be sudden, and floods of great extent and
irresistible force would desolate, in the spring, the countries
adjacent to the streams.
There are many phenomena connected with the ebullition
of water equally worthy of the notice of the philosophical the-
ologian. Among these is the temperature of boiling water.
If that temperature had been much Imoer than it is, we should
have been unable to use water as a culinary agent. Its
power of destroying the hardness and cohesion of animal and
vegetable substances would be annulled, and we should be
deprived of many agreeable and even necessary articles of
9*
102 WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE
food. The Augustine monks, who live on the top of the
Great St. Bernard, complain of the scarcity of fuel, as being
particularly inconvenient to them, because the water used in
cookinor food, boils there at so low a temperature as to re-
quire a very prolonged application of heat, and a consequent
profuse expenditure of fuel. Travellers acquainted with the
subject ought long since to have rectified this evil, by telling
them to put salt into the water, for all such processes as are
compatible with its presence, and in other cases to apply
pressure. Were the temperature of boiling water much
Usher than it now is, we should be deprived of the advan-
tage at present derived from many convenient materials
used in the construction of culinary instruments, whose safe-
ty depends on the limitation of heat by the escape of vapor.
But the particular temperature at which water boils is far re-
moved from that of the ebullition of any other liquid. Ether
boils at 98° F., alcohol at 173°. 5, spirits of turpentine at
316°, and mercury and oil at from 649° to 650°.
The vapor of water requires, for its production and con-
tinuance, a remarkable quantity of heat. A pound of steam,
although of the same temperature as boiling water, holds
enough of caloric to make a pound of water red hot, if it
were possible to keep the water liquid at such a heat. This
is proved by forcing the steam into ten pounds of water,
which will be raised to 100 degrees ; but if ten pounds are
raised to 100, one pound would be raised to 1000 degrees;
and that is a temperature visibly red in the day-time. There
is no other liquid whose vapor is endowed with any thing like
the same degree of power of absorbing heat ; hence this may
be enumerated among the many peculiarities of water.
Water does not give off vapor alone at the boiling point.
Even ice yields a portion of steam, and at all ordinary tem-
peratures evaporation is in action. Less when the water is
cold, it augments as the temperature is increased, until at
212° it is as rapid as possible. The extraordinary absorption
of heat by vapor necessarily renders evaporation a cooling
process ; and as the quantity of vapor is proportional nearly to
the heat, so is the refrigeration. To this property of water
we are indebted for the possibility of living in tropical regions,
and f jr much of the coolness of the summers of more tem-
perate zones. We are naturally surprised at observing that
the breeze which cools our bodies produces no effect of that
kind on the thermometer ; but our wonder ceases, when we
consider that the moisture on the skin is vaporized, and that
the vapor absorbs a great quantity of heat, while the ther-
WATER, AS A ChEMICAL SUBSTANCE. 103
mometer, being dry, is only of the temperature of the air,
whether still or in motion. A few drops of water, placed on
its bulb, will enable the breeze to lower its mercurial column,
and prove that evaporation is a cooling process. In climates
in which ice is not formed, the inhabitants cool wine and
other liquids by wetting the vessels which contain them, and
placing them in a rapid current of air. The power of
quenching flame and extinguishing fire, so remarkable in
water, depends mainly on the refrigerating action of the steam.
If steam were formed only at high temperatures, we should
never be able to throw enough of water on a conflagration to
arrest its progress. On the other hand, if the boiling point
were as low as that of ether, we should be frozen even in
summer, as may be demonstrated by the familiar experiment
of solidifying water by the evaporation of ether from its
surface.
As the formation of vapor cools the plains and the valleys,
so its liquefaction or solidification tempers the severity of the
coldness of mountains and table lands. Rain affords heat,
as it is formed out of vapor, and the production of snow is
only effected by the discharge of a great amount of caloric
Hence we say, ' It is too cold for snow,' because we always
observe, even at the surface of the earth, the warming in-
fluence of the radiant caloric which comes down from the
snow-clouds as invisible particles are aggregating into snow-
flakes. It is highly probable that the heat, extricated by the
snow which is first formed, prevents the degree of cold by
which more might be produced, and thus sets a limit to the
quantity, and prevents a too heavy fall, by which the earth
might be covered to an inconvenient or destructive depth.
Were it not for the immense evolution of heat when rain and
snow are formed, the mountains and higher table lands would
not be habitable. But the air of these lofty regions is con-
tinually warmed by the caloric, which, brought up by evapo-
ration from the sultry plains and valleys, is extricated in the
middle air by the rain-drop and the snow-flake.
Thus water is, as it were, the regulator or balance-wheel
of temperature, acting on the production and limitation of
heat, as the governor of a steam engine does on the admis-
sion of vapor and the movements of the machinery.
The solvent poioers of water are very various and extensive
With the exception of a very few earths and some metals
almost every thing terrestrial is soluble in water. In the
springs and rivers, therefore, we find traces of numerous sub-
stances usually solid — lime, magnesia, oxides and salts of
104 WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE.
metals, soda, potassa, muriatic, sulphuric, carbonic acids, an-
imal and vegetable products, and a great variety of simple and
compounded gases. Besides the solvent property, water has,
from its peculiar specific gravity, the power of holding in
mere mechanical suspension the parts of soils of most fer-
tilizing efficacy. By means of these properties this wonder-
ful liquid is able to bring up from the deep recesses of the
earth, and down from the inaccessible hills, the ruins of rocks
and soils, to enrich the surface, and to extend agricultural
districts. By imbibing, too, the most active constituents of
the atmosphere, which it does in a peculiarly high degree,
water carries carbonic acid and oxygen to the roots of vege-
tables, and thus contributes to the improvement of the nutri-
tious qualities of the soil.
Next to oxygen,* the most important substance held in
solution in water, is common salt (chloride of sodium) ; and of
all solids, common salt is most potent in lowering the freezing
temperature of water. It is undoubtedly for this reason among
others, that the great deep is filled with salt ; for the many
evils to ensue from a frozen ocean are obvious. It is certain
that fresh water seas near the poles of the earth would become
entirely solid ; the frozen mass would extend by degrees to-
wards the south ; and it is far from demonstrable that the very
equatorial regions would not become submissive to the sway
of a perpetual winter. But there is one very important rea-
son for the saltness of the ocean which has been commonly
overlooked. The gas called carbonic acid, or fixed air, is
one of the constituents of the atmosphere, which has, as such,
a variety of uses. Fresh water absorbs its own volume or
measure of this gas, and for that reason carbonic acid is
proportionably less near to the surface of the earth than in
higher regions. If, in addition to the absorbent power of
lakes, rivers, and spongy soils, the ocean were to act on car-
bonic acid with its vastly-extended surface, there would be
soon perceived a great deficiency of this gas, which is the
food of plants, the enlivener of water, the neutralizer of lime,
and of the oxides. But brine, or water holding salts in so-
lution, does not readily absorb carbonic acid, even when the
gas is pure ; much less will it abstract it from the vast dis-
proportion of common air with which it is commingled. Nay,
more ; from some experiments I have recently made, I am
entitled to believe that when the fresh waters, charged with
* ^xyfft^n is that gas which enters into the composition of atmospheric air,
and this latter, in virtue of it, is fitted for respiration and supporting combus-
tion, &c.
WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE. 105
carbonic acid and oxygen, roll their enriching streams to the
ocean, the briny floods compel them to disgorge the portion
of these gaseous treasures which had escaped the respiratory
organs of the fishes, and the absorbent vessels of aquatic
plants. Thus the ocean restores to the atmospliere what had
been taken from it by the streams ; and the air, impoverished
by the lakes and rivers, becomes again enriched by the boun-
ty of the ocean.
Salt is an indispensable article of food, as necessary to life
as air or water. Its universal distribution is due to the
water of the ocean, which brings it from the deep recesses of
the earth to the shores of every land. Water is the only
known liquid capable of so diffusing it ; for in pure alcohol,
or ether, or mercury, it is totally insoluble.
Salt water has but little power of penetrating into the
minute interstices of bodies, so that any thing of a fine porous
texture remains in it unchanged for a long time ; and as the
gases are not, at least in large proportion, present in brine,
salt water is eminently preservative. It acts feebly itself, and
does not convey destructive agents; hence seeds of plants
float over the ocean thousands of miles to the islands which
adorn its face, and there, meeting with soil and fresh water,
beautify and improve the country of their adoption. In a
fresh water ocean, they would germinate, rot, and perish, long
before such a voyage could be completed.
For the same reason, salt water does not readily sink into
the porous earth of the sides and bottoms of the great oceans.
The unfathomable depth of the sea, and the conseqirent vast-
ness of the pressure on its bottom, would, but for its saltness,
force the water far and wide into the recesses of the earth,
and withdraw a large portion of it irom its present situation.
At the same time, if salt water were as penetrant as fresh
water, there would be scarcely a spring but of brine — scarce-
ly a fountain but what would savor of Neptunian influence.
But while the salt detains the water from the pores of the
earth, it has little power of withholding it from the fields of
air. Evaporation goes on from the surface of the great deep
with little interruption from the salts which are there in solu-
tion : and the vapor leaves them so entirely, that not often can
there be detected the slightest adulteration, even at its source.
From this mighty magazine of water much of the liquid is
conveyed to the higher regions of the air, to be precipitated
in fertilizing and saltless rain or dew on the continents and
islands. Dr. Thomson has made very elaborate calcula-
tions to show that one ninth of the rain which falls in Great
106 WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE.
Britain must l)e furnished by the ocean, because the evapo-
ration, even from the watery surface of England, is that
much less than the quantity of rain annually precipitated on
it. The ocean annually sends, therefore, to enrich the soil
of Great Britain, nearly eighteen billions of tons of water — a
quantity sufficient to cover the whole surface of the island
four inches deep.
Fishes breathe the same air that is respired by ourselves ;
but it is only when held in solution in water that they are
able to transmit it through the gills, which serve in them the
S3.me purpose as lungs. Water is invested with the power of
absorbing and holding air in solution ; and indeed it is said,
on good authority, that oxygen is absorbed in greater pro-
portion than nitrogen,* and that in rain water there is more
than in common water, and that snow water holds most of
all. Besides the still surfaces of deep rivers, and of great
lakes, which are continually absorbing air, that fertilizing
and vivifying fluid is forced into more rapid commixture with
water at the ripples and waterfalls. In such places, for this,
among other reasons, aquatic animals love to congregate and
to sport ; and it is thither the skilful angler repairs, to ex-
hibit his baits, and to decoy his victims.
It is known that when water is heated to 212° Fahr., it
begins to boil, and that a portion of it is forced off in the
condition of subtile elastic vapor called steam. Most persons
have also observed that, much below the boiling temperature,
a visible vapor is given off by water ; and the more observant
have discovered that, at common temperatures, water is grad-
ually but imperceptibly removed from an open vessel, and dis-
sipated into thin air. But it is only those who have studied
this subject, who are aware that at any temperature, however
low, water is ever disposed to escape into the air, and that
even ice gives off vapor of sensible elasticity. But the rate
of evaporation being made dependent, not on the air, as is
commonly believed, but on the temperature, it is at 18^^ Fahr.
only as 2 ; at 38° as 4 ; at 79^^ as 16 ; at 100° as 32," and at
212°, the boiling point, 512. If it depended on the attrac-
tion of the air, and went on as rapidly in cold as in warm
climates, the former would be plundered of its caloric, and
its regions become deserted and desolate. Another evil
would be, the enormous amount of snow which would in
winter cover the northern plains of Europe and America,
* Nitro^-en, or azote, is another constituent element of atmospheric air, dif-
ferent from og-yg'en : its effects are chiefly negative. It would seem to serve as
a diluent of oxygen.
WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE. 107
bury them beyond the recovery of their longest summer, and
by gradual change of climate encroach on, and confine to
narrow limits some of the now most delicious regions of the
earth. In tropical climates, the rain which falls annually
may be rated at from 80 to 125 inches ; in temperate regions,
at from 30 to 40 inches, or less than one half; and in cold
countries, at from 10 to 20, or less than one sixth. Now, as
the rain is a pretty good gauge of the evaporation, the refrig-
erating process is, in very cold climates, one sixth, and in
temperate ones one half, of the amount of that which obtains
in the torrid zone.
As there is a cogent reason for almost inadequate evapora-
tion in cold countries, the rain in them descends in gentle
and prolonged showers or in very irrigating mists. Very
littleof the water, therefore, escapes over the surface, so as to
be lost ; but most of it quietly sinks into the earth, and moist-
ens the roots of plants and flowers, or flows out again through
springs and fountains. But in tropical countries, where, for
refrigerating uses, too much water loads the air, it is precip-
itated to the earth in impetuous showers, and flowing rapidly
over the soil, escapes by the streams and rivers to the ocean.
Hence we observe that the number of rainy days is smallest
at the equator, and increases as we advance tow^ards the poles.
From north latitude 12° to 43°, the mean number of rainy
days is 78 ; from 43° to 4G°, 103 ; from 4G° to 50°, 134 ; and
from 50° to 60°, 161. The number of rainy days, then, is, in
latitude 60°, rather more than double that, at or near the equa-
tor ; while, at the same time, the quantity of rain at the equa-
tor is five or six times as great as at 60°. Evaporation, for the
uses of the world, should be greatest in warm, and least in
cold climates; and it is so, both because of the influence of
heat in promoting, and of moist weather in retardinn it.
Were the rain to fall in tropical regions as it does in
higher latitudes, the total destruction of animated things
would inevitably ensue. Plants would perish in their own
luxuriancy, or, blighted by mildew, be sacrificed to the para-
sitic vegetables fastened to their leaves, blossoms, and fruits,
by the excessive moisture. Animals, no longer able to throw
off the redundant moisture of the body, by the skin and the
lungs, into an air already saturated with water, would become
lymphatic, excessively glandular, and diseases of loathsome
and lingering aspect would desolate the tropical regions.
But, suddenly precipitated from the air, the moisture is
speedily reduced far below the point of saturatior.. — the ' dew
point ' ; and then a more rapid evaporation from the earth,
108 WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE.
and the surface of animated bodies, tempers the breath of a
burning clime, and renders not only habitable, but agreeable,
regions of the world where, but for this curious distinction,
none but aquatic animals or reptiles could exist.
When the vapor escapes from water, and begins to ascend
in the air, it soon reaches a higher and colder place in the
atmosphere, and might be reconverted into water, and fall
back almost immediately into the sea, or other source of sup-
ply. But, under the operation of yet unknown causes, the
vapor, instead of aggregating into drops of spherical shape
and considerable density, is inflated into thin, filmy vesicles,
little bladders of water, filled with air, which, of nearly the
same gravity with the air of the cloud region, float in curious-
ly-congregated masses to even distant countries, and there,
suddenly bursting by means equally unknown, they descend
in drops of rain. It is to this very singular property of
watery vapor that we are indebted for all that rain which is
received by the land from the ocean, and for the shadows
which clouds spread over a 'weary land.' The elder Saus-
sure saw, in the high Alps, these vesicles floating around him;
and, although many of them were very small, some were as
large as a pea, and, of course, large enough to bear ocular
examination. If the clouds were not formed of such vesicles,
we should see a rainbow in every one, when the observer
stood between it and the sun. But it is only to the dissolu-
tion of the cloud that we are indebted for the magnificent
security against a future flood, — " the bow of heaven com-
plete,"— set in the fields of ether as a signal expression of
the divine will that there shall not again be drawn over the
fair face of nature the deforming veil of the deluge.
Independently of clouds and visible vapor, the very driest
atmosphere contains a considerable quantity of water, in a
perfectly aeriform state. This invisible aqueous air varies
in quantity in different places, and in the same place at dif-
ferent times. Amidst the burning wastes of Africa, it is so
little as to be scarcely appreciable ; while, in the winter, on
the stormy coast of western Scotland, the atmospheric air is
almost always saturated with it. That its presence is neces-
sary to plants, every one knows, who has observed their
shrivelled aspect in an arid summer, even when carefully
watered at the roots ; and he who has been compelled to bury
his face in the earth to escape the fiery breath of the simoom,
knows how intolerable is the purest atmosphere from which
water is excluded. From this invisible vapor, of which I
have just spoken, is derived the dew of a clear evening, the
WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE. 109
big drops which trickle down the tumbler, when, in sumniCT,
cold water is poured into it, the mist which hovers over the
cold stream, and the vapor which enshrouds an iceberg.
But the vapor which is put to so many important uses, and is
so agreeable to the skin and the lungs, gratifies also another
sense. That blueness of the firmament — that bright and
beautifiil blue, sung by so many poets, likened to so many
eyes, the chief glory of an Italian landscape — is the offspring
of the vapor of water ; and the traveller of the highest Alps
knows, that when he has surmounted the region of water, in
his perilous journey, the heavens become black and sombrous,
and the bright stars are seen in a sky of jet. The same wa-
ter, therefore, which is exhaled for rain and dew, tempers
the air for the tender leaflet and the unfolding blossom, en-
riches it for the breath, makes it bahny for the skin, and tints
it with an exquisite color for the gratification of the eye.
Perfectly inodorous itself, the moisture of the air is the con-
stant vehicle of the sweetest perfumes, most of which are in-
capable of assuming an aerial state without its agency. How
quickly we perceive the fragrance of the parterre after a show-
er ! and how rich is the odor of the woodland when the spring
rain has waked its sweetness ! But there is another curious
function performed by the atmospheric vapor. By means,
most of which are yet unknown to philosophy, a great quan-
tity of electricity is collected in the atmosphere. Among the
knoivn causes of its presence, there may be enumerated the
ascent of vapor, the friction of currents of air against each
other, and against the plains and mountains of the terrestrial
surface. In whatever manner conveyed thither, we know
that it is concentrated by the gradual coalescence of vapor
as it fashions itself into clouds, and that thence, when the
tension is beyond the capacity of its recipient, the lightning
dashes out from the thunder-cloud, either to the earth from
which it came, or into some other feebly-charged ' pavilion
of darkness.' At some of the uses of these mighty manifes-
tations of the sublime, we can only vaguely guess ; but there
are others of plainest import. If it is as yet a hypothesis,
that electrical agency converts into carbonic acid and water
hurtful, combustible impurities, forever rising into the air from
stagnant pools, extended morasses, and the thousand sources
of oxidizement by the decomposition of water, still it is cer-
tain that, after a thunder-storm, the heavens are serener ; the
sky brighter ; the air cooler ; the verdure more varied ; the
flowers fresher ; and man himself more vigorous and elastic.
There is not, after a thunder-gust, that humid feeling in the
10
110 WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE.
breath of nature, which follows a wintry rain ; but the elec-
trical battery, expelling every redundant particle of moisture,
gives to the breeze its most exhilarating qualities. It is,
then, to the batteries of vapor, terrible as they are, that we
are indebted for the exemption which our summer months
claim from mists, and prolonged rains, and for the perfect
precipitation of moisture, and the subsequent rapid evapora-
tion. They are the chief cause of the balm, the dryness, and
the coolness of the breath of summer ; and but for them, liow
many gardens of the south would be turned into desolated
wilds 1
The chemical history of water is equally curious and in-
structive. The soft, bland, nutritious liquid is not, as sup-
posed by the ancients, and even our immediate progenitors,
a simple or uncompounded substance, but it infolds in its
mild bosom two of the most formidable elements to be found
in the storehouse of nature. Oxygen, the chief agent of
combustion, the very king of fire, and hydrogen, the most
inflammable of gases, are the constituents of the water which
quenches flame and extinguishes combustion. Tied together
by the bonds of affinity, these two substances are continually
separated from each other by the many things which have
attraction for either. In this manner, both of the constitu-
ents of water exert a most important influence over the
chemistry of nature. It is at the expense of the oxygen of
water that metals are rusted and reduced to an earthy state ;
for it seldom happens that the air gives oxygen for such pur-
poses. It is by the decomposition of water that plants are
enabled to give back to the atmosphere the oxygen which
has been removed by the respiration of animals, and thus to
sustain the purity of the air. As we advance in the process
of investigation, we shall learn that most chemical phenomena
are explicable chiefly by the reaction of water or its elements.
Water gives to solids the liquid state essential to their mutual
action ; for neither the solid nor aeriform state is favorable to
chemical changes. Water, by its powers of solution and
evaporation, first impresses on a solid a liquid character, and
then, by slowly abandoning it, gives it time to aggregate in a
harmonious order ; and thence we derive the pleasure and the
profit of crystallography.
Water, endowed with extraordinary absorbent power, espe-
cially for the deleterious gases, removes them from the air as
fast as they are produced ; and thus it is that carbonic acid,
sulphureted hydrogen, muriatic acid, sulphurous acid, and
chlorine, have been prevented from long since rendering the
WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE. Ill
fair earth on which we dwell a sterile waste. It is water
which, holding in solution the aliment of plants and animals,
is the source of their vigor and beauty. Penetrating animal
and vegetable tissues with a facility given to no other liquid,
it is able to carry with it a portion of food into the deepest
recesses of life. What enables the blood to flow in veins and
arteries? Water. What swells out the sap-vessels of plants,
brings out the sugar from the maple and cane, and thrusts
forth the incense from out the rose and the shrub? It is
water. What gives to the ' human form divine ' its plump-
ness and symmetry ? Water, water. A dried plant weighs
but a small fraction of a green one, and a human being of
125 lbs. was, when dried thoroughly, only of the weight of
18 lbs. ; the rest was water. But for the water which lodges
in the membranes and blood-vessels of the lungs, the carbonic
acid would not leave the blood, and the vital stream could
not long continue to nourish the frame and invigorate the
organs. — But this is not all. Water abounds in every part
of plants and animals, and is constantly undergoing decom-
position, imparting one element to one organ, another to
another — becoming, as water or its elements, a constituent
part of bone, muscle, nerve, sinew. Few of the acids can
exist, at least usefully, without the assistance of water. It is
essential to the existence of aquafortis ; gives all its extraor-
dinary utility to oil of vitriol ; adds all its valuable qualities
to marine acid, and prevents vinegar from either becoming
solid or perishing. But I am now on a catalogue of almost
infinite extent and importance, and a bare enunciation of the
peculiar chemical agency of water would fill a volume.
It is a favorite maxim of natural theologists, that the Great
Builder of the universe created things not only for nature, but
the arts; and that he impressed on matter properties, not only
to serve in the great field of spontaneous action, but to be-
come submissive, at a distant day, to the artist, for the pro-
motion of the comfort and improvement of man ; for exam-
ple, that the faithfulness of the dog, and the docility of the
horse, were to be the future means of attachment and sub-
mission ; that the malleability of gold, the toughness of iron,
and the hardness of steel, were but preparation for the gilder,
the wheelwright, and the cutler. On the same principle, we
perceive, in the very peculiar qualities of the vapor of water,
a nice and discriminating adaptation to the future wants of
highly-civilized man. No other steam but that of water
could give impulsion to the steam engine. Either too corro-
sive, or too dense, or of too great a temperature, the vapors
112 WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE.
of acids, or of ether, or alcohol, or mercury, could not be
made applicable to the propulsion of a boat, or the progres-
sion of a car. As there is no faithful guardian but the dog,
no useful courser but the horse, so there is no propeller of
locomotives but steam. At precisely the heat of steam of
low pressure, there is not such an excess of temperature as
to very rapidly convey it to surrounding objects ; but if we
were compelled to double the heat every time we duplicated
the power, we should have feeble engines, in the place of the
potent machinery now at our command. At 212° above zero,
steam equals in power the pressure of one atmosphere, that is,
15 lbs., on each square inch; and to make even a low-pres-
sure engine work well, it must have a steam equal to nearly
half an atmosphere more ; but if a proportional heat were
necessary, the temperature would be not less than 303°, at
which the loss, from the contact of air and from radiant diffu-
sion, would be immense. But to work a high-pressure engine,
the form of the instrument indispensable to locomotives, the
heat necessary for action would be from 1000° to 1600 or 1700°,
at the lowest of which temperatures, we should have red-hot
boilers, red-hot cylinders, unpacked joints, corroded surfaces,
abundance of hydrogen, frequent explosions, and the aban-
donment of expensive and almost unmanageable engines. But,
providentially, the density of steam is much more than propor-
tionally increased by increasing temperature ; and although
steam of one atmosphere is at 212° of Fahr., steam of two
atmospheres is only at 250° ; of three atmospheres, at 272° ;
of four atmospheres, at 290° ; or, while 212*^ are required to
produce an elfect equal to 1, only 40° more are necessary to
produce an effect equal to 2; 22° to produce 3; and 18° to
produce 4. Or, rising from 275°, 18^ of increased tempera-
ture give an effect equal to that created by an elevation of
212°, counting from zero ; and at or near to a temperature
the double of that of boiling water, steam exerts a power about
40 or 50 times as great; affording, at a heat easily borne by
metals, and not destructive to the ' stuffing ' of joints, a
steam much more than adequate to the production of all de-
sirable power.
The enormous capacity of water for heat is of the highest
im|)ortance to the usefulness of the steam engine. If water
had a low capacity, its temperature would be too easily alter-
ed by fire, and sudden and explosive productions of steam
would continually endanger the safety of the boiler. Such a
result is readily perceived when we heat ether or mercury.
But as water absorbs a great quantity of heat during its ele-
WATER, AS A CHEMICAL SUBSTANCE. 113
vation to higher temperatures, the inequality of the action of
fire is less perceptible and less dangerous. Again, if steam
did not exhibit an equally high capacity for caloric, it would
be almost impossible to keep the piston in motion. As it is,
a very small quantity of steam affords heat enough to keep
up the temperature of the cylinder and piston, while the re-
mainder propels the engine ; but if it were of low capacity,
the iron would condense the greater part of the vapor, and
leave a quantity inadequate to the production of useful mo-
tion. As the temperature rose in the engines of higher pres-
sure, the evil would become greater and greater ; and, at
length, the steam would be incapable of supplying heat
enough to keep up the temperature of the cylinder, and the
machinery would cease to move.
Steam is a remarkably light vapor — a matter of greater con-
sequence than is at first sight apparent. The vapor of water
is a very little more than half as heavy as air ; that of alcohol
is three times, and of ether nearly five times as heavy as
steam.* The great levity of watery vapor carries it immedi-
ately away from the surface where it is produced, and thus
frees the earth from its excess of moisture ; but the vapor of
ether falls immediately downwards, as may be perceived by
looking towards a window through a stream of it, as it es-
capes from an uncorked bottle. If steam were not among
the very lightest of vapors, it would forever saturate the lower
regions of the air, fill all the valleys, and finally infold even
the mountains in its damp embrace, and prove as disastrous
as the deluo-e itself, without affording a medium on which
one single ark could float. The levity of watery vapor
gives to it particular adaptation, too, to the propulsion of ma-
chinery. Every one who has used a forcing-pump to con-
dense different gases, must have perceived that the task be-
comes more difficult as heavier gases are driven forward, and
that the condensation, particularly easy with hydrogen, is
very laborious with air or carbonic acid. In escaping from
the same pipe, under equal pressure, hydrogen moves more
than three times as rapidly as carbonic acid. These singu-
larities arise from both augmented friction, and greater weight
of matter to be moved. When, then, steam, for the move-
ment of an engine, is produced, it escapes with facility from
the boiler into the cylinder ; and through a pipe made narrow,
to lessen weight, expense, and refrigeration, a very large vol-
ume of vapor rushes against the piston, follows it with ease,
• Vapor of water, 0.62349 ; absolute alcohol, 1.606050 5 sub ether, 2.5860 ; oil
of turpentine, 5.0130. — Gaij Lussac.
10*
114 VEGETATION.
and with the velocity of lightning, is either expelled into the
air, or drawn towards the condenser. An increased resist-
ance, such as the vapor of ether would make, along the whole
line of operations, from boiler to condenser, would be a great
addition to the expense, and no small detraction from the ef-
ficiency of the steam engine.
Thus, then, wherever we trace water, from the vast depths
of ocean to the lofty fields of air, from the gushing fountains
to the majestic rivers and the mighty lakes, from its liquid to
its solid state, from its icy hardness to its airy softness, in the
rainbow of the shower and the blue of the firmament, thun-
dering over the rocks of the cataract, or floating in tiny vesi-
cles in the regions of storm and cloud, collecting the waste
electricity of the air, to send it back in sublime power to the
earth, regulating the temperature of earth and air, cooling the
breath, regaling the smell, and gladdening the eye — wherev
er, I say, we trace water, it is ever useful ; fulfiling, as a min-
ister of His goodness, the will of the great Contriver of the
universe, and affording the most astonishing proofs of his wis-
dom as well as of his power.
It would require a volume to furnish the most cursory no-
tice of the known phenomena of water, all of them equally
illustrative of the wisest and kindest agency ; but how much
remains yet unknown, time and progressive philosophy can
alone demonstrate. In the aqueous processes immediately
around us, are many things not yet dreamed of in our philos-
ophy ; how many more in the fields of air, and amidst the
unfathomed caves of ocean ! The expanse of the higher at-
mosphere is seldom visited by man, and the fountains of the
great deep, as well as the windows of heaven, have not been
opened to his inspection. What we do know, however, is
evidence of a principle of action exerted as benevolently and
as sagaciously in every part of the physical universe ; and we
cannot doubt that ' The Jirmament showeth his handiwork,
and the earth is full of the goodness of the Lord.^ "
CHAPTER VIII.
THE GENERAL APPEARANCE OF THE EARTH, AND VEGETATION.
Had man and the inferior animals been cast upon a globe
where sterility had established a perpetual empire, where no
torrent rushed from the mountain, no shower dropped on the
VEGETATION. H^
field, and no crops waved on the plain, they must have per-
ished. Deep and mournful silence must have reigned on the
dreary landscape, without any thing to enliven the solitude
or diversify the sad uniformity of the scene. But the earth
is liberally provided with means of subsistence to its nume-
rous and various inhabitants. It exhibits a variety fitted to
charm the imagination, to exercise the industry and ingenui-
ty, to supply the wants and multiply the enjoyments of man.
It is a rich storehouse, abundantly furnished with necessaries
and comforts for every living being which it contains. It is
indented by arms of the sea, which bring the treasures of the
deep into the bosom of the dry land : it is watered by rivers,
which at once drain off superfluous moisture and spread the
aliment of vegetation over their banks, and which facilitate
the communication between inland countries and the sea, and
between the different places contiguous to their stream. Its
surface abounds with gentle undulations ; sometimes sinks
into deep valleys, or rises into lofty mountains ; but, gene-
rally speaking, the farther it recedes from the ocean, the
higher it rises above the level of the waters ; so that rivers
run towards the sea, and, in most cases, marshes may be
drained. The high lands serve as a reservoir for supplying
springs and rivers, and shelter the lower grounds. The
mountain and the valley furnish each a proper soil for plants
of different kinds.
Even the bowels of the earth are replenished with mate-
rials which can be turned to the comfort and accommodation
of mankind. Thence is digged the ore of iron, the most use-
ful, and the most abundant also, of all the metals. There
are found gold and silver which serve as the medium of ex-
change. Several minerals are possessed of much medicinal
virtue ; and some fossil substances serve for fuel and other
valuable purposes. The face of the earth is adorned and
enriched with a great variety of vegetables, each propagating
its kind ; for every plant, as well as every animal, proceeds in
one way or another from a parent of the same kind with
itself The doctrine of equivocal generation exists only in
the visions of an unenlightened imagination : it has no place
in the provinces of nature.
The anatomy and physiology of vegetables might furnish
us, even in the present imperfect state of our knowledge of
these subjects, with many curious and interesting observa-
tions ; but I purpose merely to make a few remarks, in order
to show that the hand of the wise and good Being who mani-
116 VEGETATION.
fests himself in the creation of animals, is equally apparent in
the vegetable kingdom.
Every vegetable is capable of bearing seed ; and seed, when
properly deposited, becomes the germ of future plants. In
many instances, plants may be multiplied in different ways;
but we must look to seeds as the great means by which vege-
tables are propagated. And what a wonderful thing is a
seed ! * Why does it germinate more than a grain of sand
on the shore, or a pebble in the channel of the brook 1 Must
we not account for its configuration and vegetable power by
resorting to a wise and good JF'i?'st Cause ? Without the ad-
mission of such a cause, vegetable as well as animal life sets
us completely at defiance. For the first seeds, then, we must
have recourse to the great Intelligence who stands at the
head of the universe ; and in his power, wisdom, and good-
ness only, can we discover an adequate cause for that con-
stitution of things by which seeds vegetate and continue
their kinds.
In order to vegetation, many independent conditions must
meet together. We must have seed, and, generally speak-
ing, a vegetable mould. If the surface of the dry land had
been one continuous plate of granite, it could not have af-
forded nourishment to seed ; it could not have imbibed mois-
ture ; no verdure could have adorned the hill, and no crop
* " The seed, the last production of vigorous vegetation, is wonderfully di-
versified in form. Being- of the highest importance to the resources of nature, it
is defended, above all other parts of the plant, by soft, pulpj' substances,, as m
the esculent fruits; by thick membranes, as in the leguminous vegetables, and
by hard shells, or a thick epidermis, as in the palms and grasses.
" In every seed there is to be distinguished, first, the organ of nourishment ;
secondly, the nascent plant, or the plume ; thirdly, the nascent root, or the radicle.
" In the common garden bean, the organ of nourishment is divided into two
lobes called cotyledons : the plume is the small white point between the upper
part of the lobes; and the radicle is the small curved cone at their base.
" In wheat, and in many of the grasses, the organ of nourishment is a single
part, and these plants are called monocolijledoiions. In other cases, it consists
of more than two parts, when the plants are called j)olycotyledonous. In the
greater number of instances, it is, however, simply divided into two, and is dico-
tyledonous.
" The matter of the seed, when examined in its common stale, appears dead
and inert ; it exhibits neither the forms nor the functions of life. But let it be
acted upon by moisture, heat, and air, and its organized powers are soon dis-
tinctly developed. The cotjdedons expand, the membranes burst, the radicle
acquires new matter, descends into the soil, and the plume rises towards the
free air. Bv degrees, the organs of nourishment of dicotyledonous plants be-
come vascular, and are converted into seed-leaves, and the perfect plant ap-
pears above the soil. Nature has provided the elements of germination on ev-
ery part of the surface; water, and pure air, and heat, are universally active,
and the means for the preservation and multiplication of life are at once simple
and grand." — Sir H. Davi/s Elements of Agricultural Chemistry, 2d ed. p.
lO.-^Paxton.
VEGETATION. 117
could have gladdened the plain ; but a vegetable soil is pro-
vided. Water also must be present ; for if seeds be dried,
and moisture completely excluded, they will not germinate.
As moisture, then, is requisite, this connects every seed with
the ocean, the great fountain of waters. But seed, soil, and
moisture, will not of themselves produce a single plant.
There must be a certain degree of heat also ; for no seed
will germinate and grow below the freezing point. This con-
nects every seed with the sun, the source of heat in our sys-
tem. Yet, after we have found seed, soil, moisture, and heat,
something further is still requisite in order to vegetation.
We must have air, atmospheric air, or something nearly re-
sembling it ; for seeds will not germinate, and plants will
not grow, under the exhausted receiver of an air-pump, nor
without the presence of oxygen gas : the proportion of oxy-
gen gas in atmospheric air is more favorable to germination
than any other. Besides, the presence of light is requisite to
give plants their peculiar color and flavor.* Thus to light,
and to the atmosphere which surrounds the earth, are we in-
debted for the beauty that adorns it.
It is evident, then, that, before we can procure a single stalk
of grass, many conditions are requisite, and the existence of
any one of those conditions does not necessarily involve the
existence of any other. They are independent upon each
other. We can conceive a globe to have existed without
a vegetable soil; a vegetable soil, without a seed; seed,
without the sun; the sun, without the ocean; the ocean,
without the atmosphere. But all these are requisite in order
to germination and vegetation. What but a designing cause
could assemble and combine all these independent condi-
tions, so as to exert a harmonious action in the accomplish-
ment of an important end ? If the means be adequate to
the end, the designing cause must be wise ; for in what does
* The late Professor Robison of Edinburg-li brought up from a coal-pit some
whitish-looking- plants ; but nobody knew what they were. On being allowed
to grow in the light, the white leaves dropped off, and were succeeded by green
buds. It then appeared that the plants were tansij. On further inquiry, he
learned that the sods on which the plants grew had been taken down into the
pit from a garden in the neighborhood. Although the plant continued to grow
m its new situation, 3'et neither in color, odor, nor combustibility, did ii at all
resemble plants of the same species which had v^egetated under exposure to
light. He made the experiment with great care, on lovage, mint, and other
plants. They all throve in darkness, but with a blanched foliage, no way re-
sembling the ordinary foliage of the respective plants. Even after the green
color in plants is formed, it disappears on the exclusion of light.
Captain Parry, in his First Voyage, tells us, that, at Melville Island, he raised
mustard and cress in his cabin by the heat of the stove : they were colorless
from want of light, but had much of the same pungent, aromatic taste as if
they had grown in ordinary circumstances.
118
VEGETATION.
wisdom consist but in choosing right ends, and in employing
proper means for the accomplishment of those ends? And
if the end promote the comfort and happiness of sentient be-
ings, then the designing cause must be good ; for the diffu-
sion of happiness is the characteristic feature in the attribute
of goodness.
Seeds consist essentially of three parts ; a cotijleclon or
cotyledons, a radicle, and 3. plumula. [PI. XXIII. fig. 5.]*
The cotyledons constitute the most bulky part of the seed ;
and as the yolk of the egg nourishes the embryo chick, so
they contain a quantity of food for nourishing the embryo
plant, till by means of its radicle and plumula, which become
the root and the stem, it is able to absorb nourishment from
the earth and the air.
The food laid up in the cotyledons nourishes the radicle,
which increases in size, and is converted into a root. The
cotyledons now assume the appearance of leaves, and show
themselves above the ground, forming what are called the
seminal leaves of the plant. The roots absorb food from the
earth ; but this food, before it can be applied to the purposes
of vegetation, requires to be digested. This process it un-
dergoes, at first, in the seminal leaves. It is then carried to
the plumula, which increases in size, rises out of the earth,
becomes the stem of the plant, and puts forth branches and
leaves. The seminal leaves now become useless, and decay
and drop off; but the plant cannot be deprived of them sooner
without destruction.
When thus perfect in all its parts, the young plant con-
tinues to absorb food from the earth. This food, under the
name of sap, is conveyed in appropriate vessels to the leaves,
where it is digested, and converted into the peculiar juice of
the plant. The sap, after undergoing digestion in the leaves,
is returned to nourish and increase the plant, which it does
by depositing a layer of new matter round the old wood.
* The seeds of plants are enclosed in a capsule [PI. XXIII. fig-. 1.], which
is comparatively strong-. From the capsule projects a tube for the purpose of
conveying the farina of flowers to the seeds, and witiiout which they could not
be productive. If the pistils are shorter tnan the stamens, the flower is erect,
and the pollen, as it falls, is caught on the stig-mas, and thus passes tiiroug-h the
tube or filament into the capsule. [PI. XXllI. fig. 2.] Where the stamens are
shorter than the pistils, the flower is inverted, that the pollen may fall on the
Erotruded part of the pistils as it drops to ihe ground. [PI. XXIII. fig. 3.]
1 some cases, as in the nigella [PI. XXIII. fig. 4.], when the styles are dis-
proportionabl}' long, they bend down their extremities upon the anthers, to re-
ceive the principle of fructification.
In plants of the class dicecia, the pollen is wafted by winds, or carried by the
insects who are in search of food, from the nectaries of flowers. This is a re-
markable provision, without which many plants would become extinct.
VEGETATION. 11&
The new layer, or unhardened wood of the present year, is
named alburnum. It is probable that the food, extracted
from the earth, is imbibed by the extremities of the roots
only. How this food is made to enter into the roots and as-
cend through the sap-vessels, I do not pretend to explain.
The fact is certain ; and whether we attempt to account for
it by capillary attraction, or any other way, we see adequate
means employed for the accomplishment of an important end.
The sap of most plants, when collected in the spring, ap-
pears to the sight and taste little else than water ; but it soon
undergoes fermentation and putrefaction. The perspiration
from the leaves is, for the most part, a clear, watery liquor,
like the sap, and subject to similar chemical changes. The
sap increases in density in ascending the tree towards the
leaves. Mr. Knight thinks this is owing to its being mixed
with a quantity of matter previously deposited in the albur-
num for that purpose, and ready to be assimilated to the dif-
ferent vegetable organs. According to him, plants are em-
ployed in the latter part of the summer in preparing food for
the expanding of the buds and blossoms in the succeeding
spring. This food, when prepared, is deposited in the albur-
num. There it is lodged during the winter, and next spring,
mixing with the ascending sap, it affords nourishment to the
buds and leaves.
In plants, the leaves perform the office both of the stomach
and lungs in animals. While they receive the sap from the
roots and sap-vessels, they imbibe nourishment from the cir-
cumambient air. While absorption is carried on by the ex-
tremities of the roots, the leaves seem to concur in the same
process, chiefly by their under surfaces; and they transpire
by their upper surfaces. Some plants imbibe moisture with
the greatest facility, and transpire very sparingly : thus they
are fitted for inhabiting sunny rocks and sandy deserts. The
sap, in its passage through the leaves and bark, becomes quite
a new fluid, possessing the peculiar flavor and qualities of the
plant ; and not only yielding woody matter for the increase of
the vegetable body, but furnishing various secreted substances,
more or less numerous, and different among themselves.
We have already observed the great principle of assimila-
tion in the human body ; that mysterious process by which
the aliment is converted into blood, and flesh, and cartilage,
and bones. We meet with the same mystery in the vegeta-
ble kingdom. Plants secrete sugar, gums, and various resi-
nous substances, from the uniform juices of the earth, or per-
haps from mere water and air. We observe, however, this
120 VEGETATION.
difference in these two great departments of organized na-
ture ; sentient beings feed only, or chiefly, on what is, or has
been, organized matter, either of a vegetable or animal kind ;
but plants have a power of drawing nourishment from inor-
ganic matter, mere earths, salts, or airs (substances incapa-
ble of serving as food for animals), though not from these
exclusively. Thus vegetables are the great link between
inorganic matter and animal bodies, preparing the former for
becoming a constituent part of the latter ; and, as vegetables
take in their food in the shape of sap, it appears that the
transition from inorganic to organized matter is through the
medium of fluidity.
From the same soil different plants secrete each their pe-
culiar fluids ; but how sweet and nutritious herbage should
grow among the acrid crowfoot and aconite ; how the leaf of
the vine and sorrel should digest a wholesome acid, and that
of spurge or manchineel a most virulent poison, is some-
thing which we can neither understand nor explain. For this,
chemical principles will not account. In the living labora-
tories of nature, wonders are performed, immeasurably sur-
passing all the processes of art, and plainly indicating the
existence and operation of an Intelligent Cause, powerful,
wise, and good.
Of the peculiar secretions of plants we can form no cer-
tain opinion from the mere configuration of their parts. If
these secretions depend on internal organization, the secrets
of that organization have hitherto eluded investigation. At
times, under the same external appearance, or at least such
as even men of science cannot easily distinguish, they con-
ceal very different qualities. The sweet and bitter orange-
trees have the same appearance. Between the sweet and bit-
ter jatropha there is a great resemblance ; although the root
of the one may be eaten with safety, while that of the other
is an active poison. Here, as in every other department of
nature, we meet with an order of things calculated to awaken
the attention, exercise the vigilance, and solicit the intellect-
ual energies of man. The brutes judge by their senses, and
their senses do not deceive them. Man is endued with higher
powers, and these must be brought into action ; although his
senses, if unperverted, will not mislead him.
As every vegetable is capable of bearing seed, so for the
dispersion of seeds there is a wonderful provision. Some
are widely sown by birds and other animals : others, as those
of the thistle, are fitted with a wing or a sail, and wafted
on the wind ; and some are shot from their places by the
VEGETATION. 121
elastic spring of a pod, in which they have been ripened.
Many seeds, when kept dry or deeply buried in the earth, re-
tain the power of germination for an unlimited period. If
the ground in old botanic gardens be digged deeper than or-
dinary, it not unfrequently happens that species which have
been long lost are recovered, by the seeds which have been
buried in the earth being brought into a proper situation for
germination.
Seeds and plants possess something analogous to the in-
stincts of animals, for the preservation of the individual and
the continuation of the kind. In what position soever a seed
be deposited in the earth, tlie radicle always pushes down-
wards in quest of nourishment, and to fix the plant into the
ground ; and the plumula, with unvarying steadiness, rises
upwards. We may attempt to account for this, by saying
that the radicle is stimulated by moisture, and the plumula by
air, and that each elongates itself where it is most excited.
Be this as it may, we see a constitution of things adequate
to the accomplishment of important ends. A constitution of
this kind is wise, and must have proceeded from a wise au-
thor ; and if it produce beneficial effects, its author must be
good.
The roots of trees, it is well known, alter their direction
in quest of nourishment ; and the leaves, which perform such
an essential part in vegetation, if disturbed, soon adjust them-
selves, and turn their upper surfaces to the light. If a leaf
be smeared over, so that its communication with the at-
mosphere is cut off, it dies, like an animal when respiration
is stopped. Some animals are adapted to particular climates
and circumstances. The same is the case with vegetables ;
in some of which, as the tillandsia, a very curious provision
is made to fit them to peculiar circumstances.* Some have
tubular leaves, which receive the rain like a funnel ; and some
are so formed as to prevent evaporation from their cisterns.
Wisdom is strikingly displayed in the wonderful structure
of plants, and in the provision made for the preservation of
the individual and the continuation of the kind.t Wisdom
and goodness likewise appear in the admirable relation be-
tween the animal and vegetable kingdoms. Vegetables might
* The tillandsia is a parasitical plant (a kind of mistletoe) which grows on the
tops of trees in the deserts of America. It has its leaves turned at the base
into the shape of a pitcher, with the extremity expanded : in these, rain is col-
lected.
t As an instance of wisdom evinced in the provision made for the contmua-
tion of the species of plants, the student is referred to the vallisneria, illustrated
by PI. XXIV.
11
122 THE ATMOSPHERE.
exist without animals, but many animals could not exist
without vegetables ; and of vegetables there is a variety to
suit the peculiar taste of every creature, and an abundance
to supply the wants of them all. Those that are the most
generally relished, and consequently the most useful, are the
most common ; and there is reason to conclude that there is
no vegetable on the earth but what contributes, or may con-
tribute, to the subsistence, or comfort, and accommodation of
man, or of the inferior animals. The earth produces nothing
that is useless. Vegetables that are unpalatable to one class
of animals are grateful to the taste of another ; and the more
that the leaves of perennial grasses are eaten, the more do
they creep by the roots and send forth offsets. Trees furnish
a lodging to various tribes of animals ; and, besides yielding
food, are made subservient to many useful purposes by the
human race.
CHAPTER IX.
THE ATMOSPHERE.
Having glanced at this earth and its inhabitants, let us now
for a little turn our attention to the thin, elastic, and transparent
fluid which constitutes the envelope of our globe.
Had the earth been formed by a casual concurrence of
atoms, or by any undesigning cause, the probability is, that it
would have remained forever a naked mass, like the lonely,
blighted oak on the barren desert. But we see it a beautiful
globe, adorned by verdure, enriched with plenty, and exhila-
rated by life and enjoyment, and all these depending on the
atmosphere with which it is surrounded, as an essential con-
dition. Atmospheric air consists in bulk of twenty-one parts
in the hundred of what is at present called oiygen gas ; about
seventy-nine of azotic or nitrogen gas ; and a small, but some-
what variable, portion of carbonic acid gas. The two last of
these, namely, the azotic and carbonic acid gases, can sup-
port neither life nor flame. If an animal be immersed into
either of them, it almost instantly dies. Oxygen gas alone
will support the vital functions for some time ; but animals
confined in it expire long before the whole of it is consumed.
The proportions of these gases in atmospheric air are the best
fitted for supporting both animrJ and vegetable life. An ex-
cess of any of them is injurious or fatal.
But while the proportions of the gases in atmospheric air
THE ATMOSPHERE 1S8
are best adapted to the economy of the animal system, that
system is so constituted, as to be capable of bearing consid-
erable variations in the composition of the air, without imme-
diate injury to the powers ojf life. Are not design and skilful
contrivance manifested in the constitution of atmospheric air ?
The proportions of its constituent parts are nearly the same in
all places and at all heights. The azotic is lighter than the
oxygen gas, and this last has less specific gravity than carbon-
ic acid gas ; yet these two last are found in about the same
proportions at the greatest heights to which the genius and
intrepidity of man have ascended, as at the level of the sea.
What astonishing contrivance raises the oxygen and carbonic
acid gases to every height in the atmosphere — to the summit
of Chimborazo, and to the loftiest region visited by the bal-
loon ? Is there no design, no skilful contrivance in the won-
derful adjustment of the affinities and specific gravities of these
different aeriform fluids? Did Priestley,* Scheele,t and La-
voisier,1; act without design, contrivance, and skill, in the pro-
cesses by which they decomposed atmospheric air, and dis-
covered its component parts ? No one thinks so. And shall
any person be so absurd as to deny design, wisdom, and good-
ness, in the adjustment of those proportions, and in fitting
them for the benevolent purpose of supporting life ?
There is no physical necessity for the atmosphere. The
earth might have existed without any such invisible robe
flowing around it. The moon is not provided with an atmos-
phere; at least not with one so dense as ours. Might not
the earth have been constituted in the same manner ? But,
if it had been so, it could not have been a place of residence
for its present inhabitants. Without the atmosphere neither
animals nor vegetables could have existed : withdraw even its
oxygenous part, constituting only about a fifth of the bulk of
the whole, and every organized being dies. If any person,
then, deny design and wisdom in the formation and constitu-
tion of the atmosphere, we are entitled to call upon him to
show the physical necessity of an atmosphere, yea, of an at-
mosphere constituted as ours is. It is undeniably adapted to
* An indefatigable student of philosophy, born in Yorkshire, England, and
died in Northumberland, Pennsylvania, loO^, set. 71. His writings are very
numerous, embracing subjects of natural philosophy, chemistry, theology, men-
tal philosophy, ethics, and philology.
t An eminent Sw^edish chemist, bom at Stralsund, and died, 1786. His most
valuable treatises are those on air and fire,
X A celebrated chemist of Paris, and author of many valuable works on his
favorite science. To the amplest resources of mind he added all the amiable
qualities of the heart. He was guillotined, 1794, to gratify the malice of the
minions of Robespierre, set. 61 .
124 THE ATMOSPHERE.
\
the other parts of the system, and is an essential part of one
beautiful whole. What a mighty difference is there between
the earth and the atmosphere ! The one is a dense, opaque,
and incompressible body ; the other a thin, transparent, in-
visible, and highly-elastic substance. Yet between the two
there is an obvious relation. Dissimilar as they are in them-
selves, they harmoniously combine for the accomplishment of
the most beneficial purposes. Respiration, the propagation
of sounds, the conveyance of odors, combustion, the support
of vapors, the refraction and reflection of the rays of light, all
depend on the atmosphere.
The atmosphere cannot form a single living creature : no
being on earth formed it ; yet without it no animal could ex-
ist. Without the lungs man could not live ; but without the
atmosphere the lungs were a useless organ. The lungs did
not apportion the constituent parts of the atmosphere ; yet
no other proportions are so well suited for supporting animal
life. The ear did not form the atmosphere, nor did the at-
mosphere create the ear : they exist independently on each
other; yet there is an admirable relation between them.
Without the atmosphere, the ear had been bestowed in vain.
Decisive experiments prove that air is the medium by which
sound is propagated. To it we are indebted for the pleasures
of speech and the charms of music. Without it, the organs
of speech and of hearing would have been useless ; but the
introduction of this element gives interest and utility to the
tongue and to the ear.*
The atmosphere conveys odors; and, in this way, is a
source of pleasure, and a monitor against danger. There is
an obvious relation between the atmosphere and the wings of
birds. He who formed the wing of the eagle evidently fitted
the bird for rising buoyant on the air. Without the air, wings
would have been a cumbrous appendage ; but, according to
the present constitution of things, wings are of great impor-
tance to the bird, and are suited to all its habits. Even the
ostrich, though it does not fly, is impelled in its rapid career
by the action of its wings.
Air is necessary to fire. Whatever theory of combustion
we adopt, we must admit the atmosphere is requisite to the
process. The air supports vapor, which is exhaled from the
* The air, hy the conveyance of sounds, furnishes us with the means of meas-
uring distances. In any terrestrial distance, the passage of light may be con-
sidered as instantaneous; but sound travels at the rate of about 1142 feet in a
second. Hence we may measure the distance of the cloud, frtm vhich the
lightning and the peal of thunder proceed.
THE ATMOSPHERE. 125
earth and from the ocean by the heat of the sun. Evapora-
tion is a great process of nature, which is continually going
on, and is essential to the system. The quantity of water
raised into the air in this manner, is much greater than, at
first sight, we would imagine. Dr. Watson,* by inverting a
glass vessel on the ground in the time of a considerable
drought, found that, even then, about 1600 gallons of water
were evaporated from an acre in 24 hours. On repeating the
experiment, after a thunder-shower, he found that an acre
yielded about 1900 gallons in 12 hours.
This process is carried on not only from the ground, but
also from the leaves of trees and plants, as well as from the
surface of rivers and lakes, and the ocean. A great part of
the moisture exhaled during the day descends in dew during
the night, and is absorbed by the vegetables which had before
given it out. In this way the earth is not so soon desiccated,
even for a little way below the surface, as we might be apt to
imagine from the quantity of water raised by evaporation. If
all the moisture, exhaled during the time of a long drought,
left the earth, not to return to it for the space of several weeks
or months, all plants which do not strike their roots very
deeply into the ground must of necessity be destroyed. But
nothing of this kind takes place, excepting with the most ten-
der grass, when on elevated situations, and much exposed to
the rays of the sun.
The water that is carried into the air by evaporation, re-
turns again to the earth in dew and fogs, rain, hail, or snow,
according to the climate and the season of the year. It does
not descend in impetuous spouts, nor yet in large sheets.
Had it done so, instead of being the messenger of plenty and
of joy, it would have been the author of desolation and mourn-
ing, mangling the vegetable kingdom, overthrowing the hab-
itations of man, and destroying himself Can we contemplate
the invisible drops of dew, the drizzling shower, reviving and
refreshing the thirsty plants, and the copious rain moistening
the earth, and not be filled with grateful admiration of the
wisdom and goodness manifested in that constitution of things
by which dews and rains descend as from a colander ? The
phenomena of rain we are unable fully to explain ; but we
see a beneficial end accomplished ; and although we have not
yet discovered all the steps of the process, or the precise op-
* The distingnished author of the " Apology for the Bible/' in answer to
Paine's " Age of Reason." He was professor of chemistry, and afterwards of
divinity, in Trinity College, Cambridge. He was made Bishop of Llandaff in
1782, and died 1816, set. 79.
11*
126 THE ATMOSPHERE.
eration of the different agents employed, we have sufficient
reason to believe that the constitution of this meteor was
framed by a wise and beneficent First Cause.
The atmosphere also serves to refract the light of the sun,
and to reflect it in all directions. To the refraction of the
rays of light by the atmosphere, we are indebted for the
morning and evening twilight. Without this refraction,
thick darkness would prevail in the morning till the sun were
above the horizon; and, in the evening, would immediately
follow the disappearance of this orb. At the equator the
twilight is short, because there the earth moves with great
rapidity in its diurnal rotation, and, consequently, its rotundi-
ty soon intervenes. The refraction of light is very servicea-
ble to those who live in polar regions. By means of it their
long night is abridged, and they see the returning light sooner
than otherwise they could have done. The sun was visible
to some Dutch navigators, who wintered in Nova Zembla in
16S2, sixteen days sooner than he could have been seen if
there had been no atmosphere to refract the rays of light.
If the refractive power of the atmosphere be beneficial to
the inhabitants of the earth, its reflection of light is much
more so. Without atmospheric reflection we could see no
light but when our eye was turned to the sun. Solid bodies,
indeed, that reflected the rays, would glitter : they would glit-
ter, however, in the midst of darkness. But from the reflec-
tion of the solar rays, in all directions, by means of the air,
the hemisphere is as completely illuminated as if the sun
were commensurate with it, and were fitted up over our globe
like a semispherical cap. Here, in the simplicity of the
means, we may recognize the wisdom of the Agent. Every
aeriform fluid would not answer all the purposes of the at-
mosphere. Some of them are too rare for supporting vapor ;
most of them are unfit for the purposes of respiration. But
the atmosphere is admirably adapted to the globe which it
surrounds : it serves many different purposes, and is essential
to a vast system of life and enjoyment.
It is a well-known fact, that atmospheric air is deteriora-
ted, and rendered unfit for the support of life, by combustion,
the germination of seeds, the vegetation of plants, and the
respiration of animals. Were this deterioration to go on
continually increasing, without counteraction or compensa-
tion, the atmosphere would daily become more unfit for the
purposes of respiration, till, at length, the whole mass of air
would become contaminated, and life be extinguished. But
it exists at this moment in as pure a state as it ever did. It
THE ATMOSPHERE. 127
is as fit as ever for supporting both animal and vegetable life.
Hence it is evident that a great restorative process is con-
tinually going on, by means of which the purity of the general
body of the atmosphere is preserved. This process, which
is an exact counterpoise to the causes of contamination, the
present state of our knowledge does not enable us fully to
explain.
Dr. Priestley observed that, in vegetation, leaves have the
property of absorbing carbonic acid gas from the atmosphere ;
and hence he concluded that veoretation was a areat restorer
of the purity of the air contaminated by respiration. This
doctrine has been controverted ; but, after much investigation,
it appears, to a certain extent at least, to be true. In germi-
nation, indeed, seeds absorb oxygen, and give out carbonic
acid. A similar process goes on in vegetation when plants
are in the shade, or in the dark ; but when they are exposed
to the action of the solar beam, the process is different. Then,
by the joint agency of the plant and of light, the carbonic
acid is decomposed and oxygen gas developed. In the shade,
or in the dark, plants convert oxygen into carbonic acid ; and,
when confined in a given quantity of air, this conversion goes
on till all the oxygen disappears. But under the action of
the solar rays, in conjunction with the leaves of the plant,
carbonic acid is decomposed, and oxygen gas is formed.
This conversion and re-conversion of gases go on simultane-
ously ; in what proportion has not yet been determined.
Thus, if plants deteriorate atmospheric air, they likewise
contribute to its restoration to purity ; but how far this con-
tribution extends, on the great scale of nature, cannot be
easily ascertained. By experiment and careful observation,
we may discover the processes of nature ; but from the minute
scale on which our experiments are performed, in many cases,
it is not easy, from their results, to make any exact calcula-
tions respecting the processes in the vast system of the world.
In the case under consideration, I know of no experiments
which will enable us to make even an approximation to the
degree in which vegetation purifies the atmosphere. In all
probability, its influence in restoring is at least as great as in
contaminating the air ; perhaps much greater. We may still
say that, in this respect, there is a continual circulation of
benefit between the animal and vegetable kingdoms.*
* It has been said, that the oxygen produced by plants arises solely from the
decomposition of the carbonic acid, and that this production of oxyg^en depends
altogether on the chemical effect of light on the leaf, and is unconnected with
the functions of vegetation. Be this as it may, it is certain that the conversion
of gases accompanies the process of vegetation.
128 THE ATMOSPHERE.
Water lends its aid in purifying contaminated air. It ab-
sorbs carbonic acid when brought into contact with it ; and
the rapidity of the absorption is much increased by agitation.
Now, water and air are brought into a state of contact by
the exhalation of vapor, the descent of dew and rain, and the
action of winds. The very processes which are necessary
in order to vegetation and life, contain in them the principles
by which the purity of the atmosphere is preserved. Although
we were wholly unable to discover any part of the process by
which contaminated air is restored to purity, still the argu-
ment from the fact would remain unanswerable. That a
great process of restoration is continually going on, and that
the air is preserved in a state of purity, cannot be denied.
Our ignorance of the means merely proves the narrowness of
our capacity, or the imperfection of our science.
Wind is air in motion, or a current of air, and is occasion-
ed chiefly by the disturbance of the equilibrium of the atmos-
phere, by the unequal distribution of heat. The winds serve
some important purposes in nature, and are great agents in
carrying on the economy of that system of which they form
a part. Confined and motionless air soon becomes unfavor-
able to respiration ; but the winds agitate the atmosphere, and
maintain its salubrity, purifying what has been contaminated,
and removing noxious emanations. They transfer from place
to place the clouds destined to scatter over the face of the
earth those rains which moisten and fertilize it. They are
the vehicles of many seeds, which, being provided with wings
or down, are wafted to all parts in autumn, and keep up a
constant circulation of vegetable riches between diiferent
soils. They modify the temperature of the air, bringing the
heat of the equator towards the poles, and carrying the polar
cold towards the torrid zone. They also maintain an inter-
community of temperature between the sea and land. In
tropical climates, the sea-breeze bears in its bosom a refresh-
ing coolness, and fans the traveller panting under a vertical
sun : the wind blowing over the ocean serves to mitigate the
cold of high latitudes. Like many other parts of nature, the
winds solicit the ingenuity, and aid the industry of man.
Without them navigation must have been almost unknown,
and the commerce of distant nations altogether impracti-
cable.
129
CHAPTER X.
Light is a most astonishing substance ; and between it
and the eye there is an obvious relation. Without light the
eye had been a useless organ ; and without the eye light
had been to sentient beings, in some respects, an unprofitable
emanation. But, by the genial operation of light, the eye
beholds creation in all its magnificence, beauty, and variety.
Light did not create the eye, for it was formed in darkness ;
nor did the eye give existence to light ; yet there is such an
adaptation of the one to the other, as compels us, by the very
constitution of our nature, to believe that it is the result of
design. And the designing cause must be wise and good ;
for the means are happily fitted to the end, and the end is
beneficial. The air is the vehicle of speech, and by means
of the ear enables us to carry on an intercourse of thought
with our fellow-men ; but how greatly is this intercourse ex-
tended, diversified and improved by light and the eye !
It may here be assumed as a fact, that light is emitted
from the luminous body, and moves in straight lines. Its
prodigious velocity cannot fail to engage our attention. It
travels about twelve millions of miles in a minute. The dis-
covery of this fact is a noble proof of the exalted powers of
the human mind ; and yet it dej>ends on circumstances so
intelligible that every person may understand the matter.
The eclipses of Jupiter's moons can be exactly calculated ;
and Roemer,* a Danish astronomer, observed that these
eclipses are seen sixteen minutes sooner when the earth is in
that part of its orbit which is nearest Jupiter, than when it is
farthest from him. This shows that light takes sixteen min-
utes to travel through a space equal to the diameter of the
earth's orbit, and, consequently, eight minutes to pass from
the sun to the earth — a distance which, with Dr. Maskelyne,
we may estimate at ninety-five millions of miles. This won-
derful fact was afterwards confirmed by Bradley's t curious
discovery of the aberration of the fixed stars.
Even the initial velocity of a cannon ball seldom reaches
* Professor of astronomy at Copenhagen. His observations on lig^ht were
noticed and applauded bv Newton. He left no literary work behind him. He
died, 1710.
t Professor of astronomy at Oxford, and afterwards astronomer royal at
Greenwich. He discovered the laws of the aberrations of the fixed stars in con-
sequence of the motion of lij^ht, and also of the rotation of the earth's axis.
130 LIGHT.
2000 feet in a second ; but in the same time light moves
about 200,000 miles; consequently with upwards of 500,000
times the greatest initial velocity of a cannon ball. Unless
the particles of light were inconceivably minute, they would
dash in pieces every thing that came in their way. But such
is their extreme exility, that, notwithstanding their amazing
velocity, they strike even the delicate pupil of the eye with-
out injuring it. The person who can reflect on this without
a strong conviction and a grateful impression of an Intelli-
gent Cause, and without admiration of the wisdom and good-
ness of that Cause, must have a mind inaccessible to moral
evidence, and destitute of the noblest feelings of humanity.
The beneficial effects of light are too extensive to be over-
looked, and too obvious to be denied. They force them-
selves on the notice of the careless, and command the assent
of the skeptic.
The particles of light seem strongly to repel each other,
and are never found cohering together so as to form masses
of any sensible magnitude. There are several differently-
colored rays in the solar beam, which can be separated by
the prism ; and the color of bodies depends on their affinity
for particular rays, and their want of affinity for others.
Thus, to light are we indebted, not only for seeing nature
around us, but for all that charming variety of colors, all
those delicate tints which diversify and adorn the vegetable
kingdom. The upper surface of leaves is of the most pleas-
ing green, and the exquisite tints of flowers are inimitably
beautiful. The most skilful painter cannot so mingle and
temper his colors as to rival their native hues.
Light is the cause of that agreeable variety which we meet
wath in the taste and odor of plants, and is the main source
of their combustibility. It is not in the vegetable kingdom
only that the influence of light is felt; it acts also on animals,
and considerably affects their color. The bellies of fish,
being always turned from the light, are white ; but those
parts of their bodies which are exposed to it exhibit various
colors. Tropical birds are more brightly colored than those
of higher latitudes ; and the parts of the feathers have more
or less variety of color, as they are more or less exposed to
the action of light. The upper part of the feathers of the
wings have more brilliancy than those of the breast. A sim-
ilar observation applies to the hairs of quadrupeds ; and light
and heat seem to be powerful agents in producing that varie-
ty of color which is observable in the human race.
Whether light and caloric, or the matter of heat, be the
ASTRONOMY. 131
same substance under different modifications or combina-
tions, I shall not inquire. Suffice it to say, that they are
found together in the solar beam. Heat is the cause of flu-
idity, and is essential to the existence of our earth in its pres-
ent form. The great law of attraction pervades the universe,
so far as our observation extends ; and had it alone acted, all
must have been one solid mass. In order to constitute a sys-
tem such as ours, it was necessary to introduce a principle of
repulsion, which, in a proper degree, should counteract the
law of attraction. This principle of repulsion we find in
heat ; by the action of which solids are converted into fluids,
and fluids into vapor. Here we may remark the wisdom dis-
played in so nicely balancing the principles of attraction and
repulsion against each other. Had there been any consider-
able difference in either of these from what now obtains, the
world would not have existed in its present form, nor yielded
subsistence to its present inhabitants. Had the power of at-
traction and cohesion been much greater, and the degree of
heat the same as at present, we should have been in want of
fluidity : had the quantity of heat been much greater, and
attraction, as well as the pressure of the atmosphere, the
same as at present, all our fluids would have been converted
into vapor. But these powers are exactly adjusted to one
another and to the rest of the system.
Heat is necessary both to vegetable and animal life ; and
it appears a decided evidence of the wisdom and goodness
of the Supreme Being, that the living functions, both of
plants and animals, disengage the portion of heat necessary
for their well-being : this they seem to accomplish by con-
verting oxygen into carbonic acid gas, in which process a
quantity of heat is evolved.
CHAPTER XI.
ASTRONOMY.
Having taken a cursory view of the terraqueous globe,
with its productions and inhabitants ; of the transparent and
elastic fluid with which it is invested, and of light and heat
which beautify and enrich it, let us now, for a little, quit the
earth, and contemplate the splendid orbs that bespangle the
vault of heaven. At an early period the Chaldean shepherd,
watching his flocks under an unclouded sky on the exten-
132 ASTRONOMY.
sive plains washed by the Euphrates and the Tigris, atten-
tively observed the stars in their silent revolutions. He
marked the brilliancy of Sirius, and the majesty of Orion.
With a vigilant eye, he followed the Twins and Arcturus in
their course, and learned the unvarying relative position of
these twinkling ornaments of the sky. But the planetary
motions perplexed him by their apparent intricacy and irreg-
ularity, and defied his sagacity to unravel their seeming
confusion.
The Phenician mariner turned his eye to those stars which
appear to describe very small circles, or with stately majesty
to remain motionless in the firmament. Some of the stars
of the Dragon, or of the Great Bear, it is likely, were his
guides in creeping timidly along the shores of the Mediterra-
nean, or of the Arabian Gulf The star Alruccabah, in the
tail of the Little Bear, which, by the precession of the equi-
noxes, is now near the immovable point of the heavens, prob-
ably did not attract much of his attention. These Chaldean
shepherds and Phenician navigators, although they could im-
press, in some measure, the stars into their service, had but
a very limited and partial knowledge of astronomy. There
is a vast distance between their rude observations and the
noble discoveries of Newton and La Place. For, with the
exception of the comets, the solar system is now well under-
stood ; and the motions of all the great bodies connected with
it are ascertained with the utmost precision, and can be ex-
plained by the laws or facts of projection and gravitation.
Astronomy bears a strong testimony to the existence of
God, and furnishes clear proofs of his mighty power, con-
summate wisdom, and great goodness. " My opinion of as-
tronomy has always been," says Dr. Paley, " that it is not
the best medium through which to prove the agency of an
intelligent Creator." The opinion is not without some foun-
dation. But I must acknowledge, that no part of Dr. Paley's
masterly work on Natural Theology made a deeper impres-
sion on my mind than the chapter on astronomy. We are
not, indeed, acquainted with the inhabitants of the planetary
bodies, and consequently cannot trace minute contrivance
and mechanical adaptation in their organization, or in the
provision that is made for their subsistence, accommodation,
and comfort. We can reason only on the forms, arrange-
ments, and motions of the planets. But even within this
range we meet with decisive proofs of design, power, wisdom,
and goodness.
I. The forms of the lieaveniy bodies are all spheroidal,
ASTRONOMY. 133
whatever be the diameter of the sphere. This holds from
the sun, the largest, to Pallas, the least, perhaps, of the bodies
in our system. The spheroidal figure is best fitted for the
motion of the planets, whether in their orbits or on their
axes. It is best adapted for the equal diffusion of light; and,
judging from the inhabitants of our earth, it is also most com-
modious for furnishing a residence to living creatures.
Now, was there any physical necessity for the spheroidal
figure 1 I may, perhaps, be told that it results from the mo-
tions. Passing over, at present, the difficulty of accounting
for the motions without an Intelligent Cause, I should like to
know what is the evidence that the planets were not spheres
at their first movement, as well as at present. In my appre-
hension, I have as good a right to allege that the sphericity
was prior to the motion, as another has to say that the motion
generated the sphericity. Supposing, however, that the plan-
ets were not spheres originally, we may inquire how they
moved before they assumed the spheroidal form. What was
their original figure ? Supposing them to have been cubes,
parallelograms, or very irregular figures, how did they revolve
till they acquired their present shape ? Must not the axis of
rotation have been perpetually shifting? And would not this
shifting have prevented them from acquiring their present
figure? Besides, if our earth, for instance, was as dense at
first as it is now, its rotation on its axis would have had very
little influence on its figure. The solid parts of the earth do
not appear to be affected by its rotation.
But we may be told, perhaps, that the matter of the plan-
ets was struck off from the body of the sun in a state of fu-
sion, and thus assumed the globular form by rotation. This,
however, is a purely hypothetical assumption countenanced
by no one known fact in nature. We do not know that the
sun himself is an ignited body. We do not know that any
great masses, in a state of ignition and fusion, exist in the
universe. We have no evidence that our earth, or any other
planet, is gradually cooling. To assume principles which re-
ceive no countenance from the existing phenomena of nature,
may do with the dreaming theorist who surrenders himself to
the guidance of a loose imagination ; but such a practice can
never be admitted into the school of sound philosophy. We
may add that it is unreasonable to expect that every wild
hypothesis devised by a fertile fancy should be seriously re-
futed. In order to entitle a theory to attention, it must be
countenanced by known facts, Without this, it is, at best,
but an amusing fiction.
12
134 ASTRONOMY.
According to La Place,* a body with the same time of ro-
tation, may put on two very different forms, which will pre-
serve their equilibrium : the one of them is very near a
sphere ; the other, very far from it. In the case of our earth,
supposing it to have been originally a homogeneous body, the
parts of which would all freely yield to the centrifugal force,
one of the forms would have the ratio of the polar to the
equatorial diameter as 229 to 230, which is near the ratio
that actually obtains ; and the other as 1 to 6S0.t In all the
planets, we find that form which is nearest to the sphere, and
which, in point of utility and convenience, is unquestionably
the more advantageous of the two ; for the other form is nearly
a flat circular body, having a convex edge. If it be alleged
that the spheroidal form results from gravitation, we may ask
such questions as the following: — Will gravitation account for
all the phenomena? Is gravitation a necessary or a contin-
gent fact ? Is it essential to matter ? That it is essential to
matter cannot be proved. And if it be not essential to mat-
ter, yea, if the ratio in which it is observed to act be not es-
sential to matter, then every advantage resulting from gravi-
tation, and from the particular law which it observes, may be
reasonably attributed to design.
There is one phenomenon in the planetary figures, for which
neither rotation, nor gravitation, nor both of them, will in any
degree account ; I refer to the ring or rings of Saturn. Al-
though rotation and gravitation may preserve these rings in
their places, they will not account for their formation. Gali-
leo was the first who observed something uncommon in the
shape of Saturn ; and the ring was more fully discovered by
Huygens about forty years afterwards. It is now found that
this planet is encompassed with two thin, flat, concentric
rings, lying edgewise towards the planet, and at some dis-
tance from it. The plane of these rings passes through Sat-
urn's equator. The rings revolve in their own plane, in
about ten hours and a half; and, not being of a regular figure,
their centre of gravity is at a small distance from the centre
of Saturn. The centre of gravity being carried about Saturn
* A disting-uished mathematician and astronomer, whose numerous works
have greatly benefited the sciencf of astronomy, particularly his " Theory re-
specting the Movements of the I'lanets." Hls "Celestial Mechanism" has
been translated, with a commentary, by Dr. Bowditch of Boston (1830, 4to.).
t See Vince's Confutation of Atheism, p. 66. The figure of the earth is not
yet precisely ascertained. It a[>pears certain that the equatorial diameter some-
what exceeds the polar axis, 'i he difference between the polar and equatorial
diameters seems to lie between 300 to 301, and 340 to 341. The French astrono-
mers have made it rr^- j{Montucla, vol. iv. p. 170) ; others, rr\-^ (Playfair)
ASTRONOMY. 1S5
by the rotation of the rings, gives them a centrifugal force,
which is combined with their gravitation to the planet; and
they are retained by these two forces, in the same manner as
a planet is retained in its orbit.
The formation of these rings must have been either instan-
taneous or gradual. But how will gravitation, or even grav-
itation and rotation combined, account for their formation in
either of these ways 1 Gravitation could never have produced
bodies of such a figure. It could not form them instantane-
ously : there is no known property of gravity capable of pro-
ducing such an effect. Neither could it do so gradually ; for
what was to support them, in an unfinished state, during a
gradual formation? I see no way of accounting for the
figure of those rings, by matter, gravitation, and motion.
And if their figure cannot in this way be accounted for, the
question becomes still more complicated and perplexing,
when we attend to their motion. To produce the rotation,
the force applied must act in the plane of the rings ; but a
single force acting thus would have disturbed their position,
and carried them up to the planet. There must have been
impressed equal and opposite forces, at equal distances on
each side of the centre, in order to give them rotation without
altering their position. The figure of the rings is not regular :
La Place has shown that if it had been regular, the rings
could not have preserved their position, but must have been
disturbed by the slightest force, such as the attraction of a
comet or satellite, and fallen upon the planet ; and that it is
owing to those irregularities that they are supported in their
proper situations. In the other bodies of the system, regu-
larity of figure tends to insure uniformity of motion, and
there regularity prevails. But here irregularity is found to
exist, and it was needful in order to permanency. The rings
are of a form which could not have arisen from the gravita-
tion of their parts. They are concentric, placed exactly in
the same plane, and in the plane of Saturn's equator. Their
progressive velocity is exactly adjusted to the velocity of Sat-
urn in his orbit, both in respect of quantity and direction ;
and they have a certain degree of inequality in their figures,
which, with a corresponding period of revolution about the
planet, is the means of securing them in their position.
Here, then, we see such a complication of adjustments, as
must irresistibly impress us with the belief of an Intelligent
and Wise Cause,
II. Design appears in the arrangement of the heavenly
bodies.
136 ASTRONOMY.
The sun is the central body of our system. Of the phys-
ical constitution of that luminary we cannot speak with cer-
tainty. But, whether we consider it as an ignited body, or
as an opaque orb, surrounded, at a distance from its surface,
with clouds emitting luminous and calorific rays, the fact is
certain, that it is the great fountain of light and heat to the
system. Design, wisdom, and goodness, are obvious in this
single fact. Had the universe been the result of any unde-
signing cause, what probability is there that there would
have been any luminous body in the system ? At present,
besides comets, we know of eleven primary and eighteen sec-
ondary planets. These are all opaque orbs. How, then, but
by the admission of an Intelligent Creator, shall we account
for one, and only one, luminous body in our group of worlds?
But supposing one luminous body to have somehow appeared
among the opaque planets, how shall we account for its be-
ing a large body, yea, larger than any, or all of the rest?
What is there in light and caloric to attach them to the
largest body exclusively, or to make the body to which they
are attached assume a central position ? If gravitation be
alleged as the cause, we answer that it will not account for
the phenomena. How, on this supposition, are light and
heat emitted?
If there had been no sun, it is obvious that the present or-
der of things could not have existed. Without light and
heat there could be neither vegetable nor animal life. The
light and heat of the sun cannot create a single seed, but by
means of one previously existing : they cannot form any ani-
mal without the intervention of a seminal principle from a
parent animal. The sun, then, has not created any thing
here ; and nothing here created the sun : yet between the sun
and the earth there is an obvious relation. For if you re-
move the sun, you at the same time extinguish vegetable and
animal life on the earth. Have not wisdom and goodness,
then, provided this essential condition of animal and vegeta-
ble existence ?
If the luminous body had been small compared with the
other orbs in the system, like Juno or Pallas, or even like
our earth ; if it had not been a central, but a revolving body
round the centre, then light and heat could not have been in
the same quantity, nor could they have been so equably dis-
tributed as they presently are. But the sun is a vast globe,
and stationary, or nearly so, in the centre, diffusing light and
heat, and life and joy, over all his attendant worlds. It is
needless to enter into any calculation of the probabilities,
ASTRONOMY. 137
that in a system of thirty bodies (leaving the comets out of
the question) grouped together by the law of gravitation, one,
and one only, should be luminous, and that that one should
be largest, and in the centre. To me it appears that, on the
very face of the thing, there is a plain evidence of design ;
and not of design only, but of wisdom and goodness also.
The very large bodies, Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus, are
placed at a great distance from the centre. Had they been
next the sun, their joint attractions would have greatly dis-
turbed the less and more distant planets in their revolutions.
But, travelling in orbits at such an immense distance from
the centre, they attract the sun and the inferior planets almost
equally ; which, in point of perturbation, is nearly the same
as if they attracted neither. This results from the law which
gravitation observes, decreasing in the inverse ratio of the
squares of the distances.
The distances at which the planets are placed from each
other are an indication of wisdom. Had not the bulk and
distance of the circumvolving bodies been wisely arranged,
the attraction of one would have drawn another from its orbit.
They would have met together in terrible and destructive col-
lision : confusion and ruin would have ensued. But so wisely
are the bulks, velocities, and distances of the planetary orbs
adjusted to the established law of gravitation, that, though
they act on each other, they do not act so powerfully as to
derange the system. The perturbations are partial, limited,
and periodical. A great compensating principle pervades
the universe, and keeps the disturbing powers within harmless
limits. The vast extent of the system gives room for the
bodies to move, without endangering its permanency by their
mutual attractions : it likewise prevents those great tides
which would have happened, if the large planets had moved
near each other.
In all the planets, so far as we know, the axis of rotation
forms a greater or less angle with the plane of the orbit. For
this there is no physical necessity. But in our earth, where
we have the best opportunity of observing and judging, it is
productive of beneficial effects. To it we owe the variety of
seasons. Had the axis of rotation been parallel to the plane
of the orbit, each hemisphere, in its turn, would have been
long in darkness. If the axis had been perpendicular to the
plane of the orbit, light would, indeed, have been diffused
from pole to pole ; but the equatorial regions would have
been scorched with perpetual and unvarying heat, whilst in
the higher latitudes the influence of the sun would have been
12*
138 Astronomy
too faintly felt to bring vegetation to maturity. But, by the
inclination of the axis, light and heat are more beneficially
diffused over the globe.
Under the head of arrangement, we may take notice of the
provision of moons.
Mercury and Venus, moving in orbits at no great distance
from the fountain of light, are provided with none of those
attendants. One accompanies our earth ; and, as its orbit
forms but a small angle with the ecliptic, it is very beneficial
to its primary. The time of the moon's revolution round the
earth is just equal to the time of her rotation about her own
axis. The same holds of all the satellites of Jupiter ; and
of one, at least, of Saturn. From the uniformity which pre-
vails in the other parts of the system, it is likely that the
same is the case with all the secondaries, although it has not
yet been ascertained by observation. In this way, the sec-
ondary always keeps the same face towards the primary.
Now, in this constitution of things, we may perceive plain
indications of design, wisdom, and goodness. When we con-
sider the number of nice adjustments that are necessary in
order to make the secondary always keep the same face to-
wards the primary, and attend to the number of bodies in
which this constitution obtains, it is impossible to attribute it
to any thing but design. The end is good ; for had the con-
stitution of those bodies been different, the primary would
have occasioned injurious or destructive tides on the secon-
dary ; but by keeping the same face of the moon always to-
wards the earth, this evil is avoided. Whatever may be the
elevation of the waters upon the moon, it always remains the
same, or nearly so.
Mars has no satellite. The four newly-discovered planets,
Juno, Vesta, Ceres, and Pallas, are very small bodies, and
unable to carry moons along with them. But Jupiter, a vast
globe, moving in an orbit about 490 millions of miles distant
from the sun, is provided with four satellites, placed at differ-
ent distances from his centre, and performing their revolutions
in different periods. Saturn, revolving in an orbit twice as
distant from the sun as that of Jupiter, besides the apparatus
of his rings, has no less than seven moons attending him.
Uranus, about 1800 millions of miles distant from the sun, is
known to have at least six moons.
Ligiit decreases as the squares of the distances increase ;
consequently in those distant regions the solar rays must be
very sparse. But the remote planets are amply provided
with satellites to reflect the light ; and, to me, the provision
ASTRONOMY. l39
of moons in the system appears to afford no slight evidence
of design. The most distant planets are capable, by their
mass, of supporting moons, and they are provided with them.
Perhaps, in the other planets, these satellites serve other
beneficial purposes besides that of illumination, as the moon
does to our earth. Distant as they are, they are of advantage
even to us : the moons of Jupiter assist us in determining
the longitude.
III. The motions of the planets afford plain proofs of de-
sign, whether we attend to their revolutions in their orbits,
or to their rotation on their axes.
The adjustment of the centripetal and centrifugal forces,
so as exactly to balance each other, is a wonderful fact in
nature. The planets all move in ellipses, not greatly re-
moved from circles, having the sun in one of the foci. The
general law or fact, in nature, so far as we can observe, is,
that all bodies attract each other in the direct ratio of their
masses, and in the inverse ratio of the squares of the dis-
tances. It has, indeed, been asserted that this is a necessary
fact. But we know too little of gravitation to authorize us to
make any such assertion. We do not know that gravitation
is essential to matter. We neither know what it is, nor how
it acts ; and, for any thing we know, it might have followed
one ratio of action just as well as another. Therefore we
have at least as good a right to attribute the established ratio
to choice, as others have to attribute it to necessity.
But, without dwelling on this point, how shall we account
for the velocity with which each planet moves, being so pro-
portioned to the quantity of matter in the planet, and to its
distance from the sun, as to retain it exactly in its orbit?
Take any planet, and make an alteration in any of those con-
ditions, and you derange or destroy the system. If you
greatly increase the matter of any planet, leaving its dis-
tance and velocity the same as at present, it will fall into the
sun. If you considerably increase the velocity, leaving the
planet with the same, or less quantity of matter, and at the
same distance from the central body, it will no longer move
in an orbit nearly circular, but will describe a very eccentric
ellipse, or fly off into the immensity of space. Here, then,
design, nay, consummate wisdom, is displayed, in so finely
balancing the centripetal and centrifugal forces, that the plan-
ets should move in orbits nearly circular. In order to the
accomplishment of this, both the direction and the velocity
of the projection lie within extremely narrow limits. Al-
though the direction in which the body was projected had
140 ASTRONOMY.
been right, yet a small difference in the velocity would have
made a great change in the orbit ; and supposing the velocity
to have been just what it is at present, if the projection had
not been in one particular line, the effect would not have an-
swered. No direction would have cured a wrong velocity,
and no velocity would have cured a wrong direction. Both
must be right, and the right point lie within extremely nar-
row limits. Now, that two such independent circumstances
should be found so exactly united, in so many different bodies,
is evidently the result of contrivance and wisdom.
There is a fixed relation between the periodic times of the
primary planets, and their mean distances from the centre.
The squares of the periodic times are to each other as the
cubes of the mean distances. That this should obtain in all
the planets cannot be accounted for but by resolving it into
design ; and the fact is the more worthy of attention, when
we consider that one of the conditions requisite to the stabil-
ity of the system is, that the planets should perform their rev-
olutions in different periods.
The framers of theories have amused themselves and their
readers with dreams of comets striking off fragments from the
sun, and of these fragments becoming planets. But, accord-
ing to the great law of gravitation, a revolving body returns
into its own path ; and consequently, if the planets had been
struck off from the body of the sun, they must in every rev-
olution have returned to the body of the sun again. It is of
no avail to allege, that the blow which struck off the fraor-
ments from the sun, removed the sun himself from his place ;
for, even in this case, as the supposed stroke acted on the
fragment as well as on the sun, so the fragment must, in
every revolution, return to the surface of the body from which
it was broken off. As a revolving body, according to the law
of gravitation, must return to the place from which it was
projected, it follows that the planets must either have been
formed in their orbits or carried to them, and received the
projectile impulse there. They must all have begun their
motions in their orbits.
We may here remark, that it has been said, that the four
newly-discovered planets are fragments of a large body that
formerly revolved in an orbit between those of Jupiter and
Mars, but which, by some unknown cause, perhaps by a
shock of electricity, had been broken in pieces ; and it has
been supposed that the meteoric stones, which sometimes
fall on the earth, are the splinters of that large orb which gave
birth to the newly-discovered planets. On this fanciful theo-
ASTRONOMY. 141
ry, I shall just observe, that if a large planet has been broken,
it must have been many ages ago ; for the history of astron-
omy does not inform us of any planet that has disappeared.
Meteoric stones, however, have lately fallen on the earth.
Are we not, then, left to suppose that the larger fragments,
by some good fortune, have been honored with a place among
the planets, whilst the unlucky little splinters have been
wandering up and down for ages, without finding a resting
place, till at length chance conducted them to this earth for
repose ?
Suppose a large planet to have been shivered, no matter
how, we may inquire in what manner the large fragments
acquired their spheroidal form. How did they find their
way to their respective orbits ? Whence did they receive
their projectile force, so exactly in the direction and with the
velocity requisite to ensure their continuance and steady mo-
tions in their orbits, amidst so many soliciting and disturbing
powers ? How came they to move so near each other, and
yet to remain so distinct ? Till these and similar questions
be satisfactorily ansv/ered, it will be as philosophical to be-
lieve that the four newly-discovered planets were formed in
their orbits, and projected by a powerful and wise Intelli-
gence, as to embrace the theory now mentioned concerning
their origin.
After the planets are projected in a direction and with a
velocity so exactly proportioned to the quantity of matter in
each, and to its distance from the sun, as that they shall near-
ly describe circles, still there is no physical necessity for
their revolving on their own axes. But that most of them
do revolve on their own axes we certainly know. That this
should happen in so many different bodies, must be the re-
sult of design. Those persons vvho are best acquainted with
the doctrine of probabilities, will not, I apprehend, ascribe it
to chance. By this constitution of things a beneficial pur-
pose is served, in our world at least, and we have not the
means of judging so fully of any other. To it we owe the
agreeable vicissitude of day and night, a vicissitude accom-
modated to our nature, as it gives us the opportunity of re-
freshing ourselves with sleep by night, to prepare for the toils
and enjoyments of returning day. Here design is obvious ;
and benevolence characterizes the designing Mind, for the
end is beneficial. Wisdom, also, plainly appears in the con-
trivance.
All the twenty-nine primaries and secondaries, belonging
to our system (if the moons of Uranus, the planes of which
142 ASTRONOMY.
are nearly at right angles to the orbit of their primary, be not
considered an exception), perform their revolutions in the
same direction. In the zodiac they all proceed from Aries
to Taurus : none of them moves in the opposite direction.
The diurnal rotations, so far as we know, all follow the same
course. It is impossible to ascribe this to chance : it must
be the effect of design ; for, considered as casual productions,
the chances of their all moving in a direct, and none of them
in a retrograde course, are almost incalculable.* That the
planets should all move in the same direction, in their orbits,
is essential to the stability of the system ; t for, had it been
otherwise, the inequalities would not have had their regular
periods of increase and decrease, as at present, but would
have gone on increasing till they brought on the destruction
of the whole fabric.
It may be inquired, whether the planetary system be steady
and permanent. Are there no principles of dissolution ope-
rating in the apparently harmonious combination of globes?
Are there no soliciting and disturbing causes which shall
ultimately accomplish the overthrow of the whole ? To such
queries we answer, that in every system of bodies gravitating
towards a centre, and reciprocally acting upon each other,
there will be perturbations ; and such perturbations exist in
our system. The planes of the planetary orbits are subject
to a variation in their situation : the inclinations of the orbits
to the ecliptic are liable to a change : the figure of the earth's
orbit is approaching towards a circle ; and, owing to this
cause, the mean motion of the moon is increasing : the ob-
liquity of the ecliptic is diminishing. But have these changes
no limits? Will they go on increasing till they terminate in
the disWution of the system ? To these questions the inves-
tigations of modern science enable us to reply, that these
changes have limits ; and that the variations, irregularities, or
inequalities of the solar system are periodical, and return into
themselves. The whole oscillates round a certain position
from which it can never greatly depart. These variations
travel their rounds in fixed periods. The periods of some of
them are short, while those of others involve hundreds of
years. But still, at the close of their respective periods, each
* La Place has calculated, that the probability of the motions of the solar
system have taken place without the operation of a superintending mind is so
small, that it may be considered as nothing. It is as 2 : 2^'-^ — 1 ; i. e. it is as
2 is to 4398016.511103. These motions alone furnish an almost decisive proof
of the existence of a designing cause.
t As the planes of the satellites of Uranus are nearly perpendicular to the
orbit of the planet, the direction of their motion, whether retrograde or other-
wise, can have no sensible influence upon the system,
ASTRONOMY. 143
returns to the point from which it set out, and is found in its
orbit as if no such disturbance had happened. After certain
periods, the planes of the planetary orbits will return to the
positions from which they departed ; the inclinations of their
orbits to the ecliptic will return into themselves ; the figure
of the earth's orbit will come back to its original form ; and
the mean motion of the moon will decrease by the same
steps by which it has increased. The obliquity of the ecliptic
will never change above two degrees ; and, vibrating within
such narrow limits, the seasons will never be sensibly affect-
ed by it.
For the permanency of the system necessity cannot be
pleaded, as it depends on conditions which are not necessa-
ry. These conditions are, that the attraction be inversely as
the squares of the distances ; that the orbits be not far re-
moved from circles ; that the planets all move in the same
direction ; and that the planes of their orbits are not much
inclined to one another.* These conditions are not essential
to a system of bodies mutually gravitating towards each other.
They do not necessarily arise from the action of any physical
cause known to us. Any of them might be changed, while
the others remained the same. The appointment of such
conditions, therefore, as would ensure the stability and per-
manency of the system, is not the work of necessity; it can-
not be the work of chance, for chance could never have
brought together such an assemblage of independent condi-
tions. It must, therefore, be the work of design ; yea, of
boundless wisdom, which, at one comprehensive glance, saw
the system in all its variety, and perceived the conditions es-
sential to its permanency.
The comets are bodies of little density, and, consequently,
their disturbing power is little felt on the planets. t
Having made these observations on the solar system, let
us now glance at the fixed stars.
* This last condition, it may perhaps be alleged, does not hold in some of the
new planets ; but these planets are very small bodies, and their action on the
system must be altog-ether insensible.
t The very dilTerent positions and inclinations of the orbits of comets to the
ecliptic seem not to be the effect of chance ; but g-ive us reason to acknowl-
edge and admire the wisdom of Deity. If the planes of their orbits had been in
that of the ecliptic, or very near it, then every time that a comet descended to-
wards the sun, or returned from its perihelion, we would have been exposed to
the danger of being struck by it, if, unhappily, the earth had then happened to be
at the point of intersection ; or at least, according to Whiston, we would have
run the risk of being inundated by its tail. But according to the present consti-
tution of things, this risk is avoided.
144 ASTRONOMY;
On departing from the orbit of Uranus, the remotest of the
planets, so far as we at present know, we must traverse, in
all probability, between two and three hundred thousand
times the distance of the earth from the sun, a space which
we may compute in numbers, but which imagination can
scarcely conceive, before we reach the nearest of the fixed
stars.* From that point, sound would take millions of years
to travel to our earth. Notwithstanding this immense dis-
tance, some of the fixed stars, probably the least remote, such
as Sirius and Arcturus, shine with great brilliancy. In a
clear night, by reason of their twinkling, they seem to be in-
numerable. But, in reality, the number discernible by the
naked eye is not very great, being only about three thou-
sand ; and it is but seldom that one third of that number can
be seen, even by a good eye, at the same time. On using
a powerful telescope, however, their numbers exceed cal-
culation. They are clustered throughout the immensity of
space in such multitudes as to bewilder the imagination in
their countless number, and in the inconceivable extent of
the universe. t
They shine by their own light. The delicate discovery of
the aberration of the fixed stars shows that the velocity of
their light is the same as that which comes from the sun. It
is also capable of the same modifications as the solar light,
being reflected and refracted according to the same laws.
Hence it appears that the sun and the fixed stars are bodies
of the same nature ; and, according to the opinion of the
most enlightened philosophers, these stars are so many suns,
each surrounded with its own planetary system ; although,
on account of their immeasurable distance, these planets are
altogether invisible to us.
We speak of these stars as fixed, because they preserve
the same relative position with respect to one another. But
there is no clear evidence of their absolute immobility. Sir-
ius, Arcturus, and Aldebaran, have been observed to make
a small change in their places; and, according to some, the
solar system is not confined to a certain region in absolute
space, but has a progressive motion. Perhaps all the great
* The annual parallax of the fixed stars lias not yet been ascertained. But
if we suppose it not to exceed I", the distance of the fixed stars cannot be less
than 20G2G5 times the radius of liie earth's orbit. As light traverses the latter
in 8' 13", it will require 3 years and 79 days to come from a fixed star to the
eartli. — Plavfair.
t Tiie more powerful the telescope, the g^reater is the number of stars seen,
La Lande computed that, with a forty feet telescope, a hundred millions were
visible.
ASTRONOMY. 145
bodies of the universe are grouped together in systems, mu-
tually supporting each other, and movmg in orbits round a
central point in the immensity of space ; or they may be sup-
ported in their stations in a way of which we have no con-
ception. For although we see processes of vast extent going
on, and principles of v/ide operation established, yet we are
not to couiine the Supreme Architect to these principles
and processes only, because we know of no other. We see
enough to convince us that He can vary his means as cir-
cumstances require, and that no end is beyond his powers of
execution.
What a great and glorious scene, then, do the heavens ex-
hibit to our view ! Millions and tens of millions of suns are
stationed at convenient distances throughout the immensity
of space, enlightening, and warming, and fertilizing hun-
dreds of millions of worlds, all wheelmg in busy and silent
revolution round their several points of attraction, or bound
together in systems of mutual gravitation. Judging from
analogy, and from all that we can perceive of the operations
of Him who never works in vain, we are constrained to
conclude that all these worlds, formed, and projected, and
guided by the potent arm, and under the immediate in-
spection of the Almighty Sovereign, are inhabited by dif-
erent orders of beings, with organs accommodated to the
different circumstances in which they are placed, and en-
dued with different degrees of intellectual capacity. What
a noble scene ! How ambitious ought we to be to extend our
acquaintance with it in the progress of our exisience ! If
creation be so great, O how great must the Creator De ! He
not only made, but he upholds and governs, the mighty sys-
tem of the universe. Not a movement of any orb but is
guided by his hand ; and not an action of a rational creature
thot escapes his eye. How well is he entitled to our homage
and obedience !
Our earth, in all its beauty, variety, and magnificence, —
oceans, lakes, and rivers, mountains, valleys, and plains,
clothed with verdure and enriched with plenty, diversified and
enlivened with numerous inhabitants, — presents a rich and
charming scene to the imagination. But when we contem-
plate the number and magnitude of the heavenly orbs, the
myriads of worlds profusely spread throughout the immeasu-
rable regions of space, upheld by almighty power, arranged
and directed by consummate wisdom, replenished with in-
habitants, m^.ny of whom, no doubt, occupy a higher station,
13
146
ASTRONOMY.
are endued with nobler powers, and clothed with a brighter
glory than man, — then the magnificence of our earth dwindles
away, and the dignity of our nature and race seems absorbed
in the brilliancy of the mighty constellation of intellectual
being. Instead of overpowering our faculties, or damping
our energy, let the view elevate the soul, awaken the ambi-
tion, and invigorate the exertions of rational and immortal
man. Let him rejoice that he forms a part in such a mighty
scheme ; that he stands so high on the scale of existence
Other beings may be endued with more vigorous and enlarg-
ed faculties ; but he is not doomed to remain stationary in
the place which he now occupies. His powers are capable
of high improvement; and who shall set limits to his prog-
ress in the pursuit of excellence? What attainments are
within his reach, how far his faculties may yet expand, what
noble rewards may yet crown his diligence and activity,
and with what dignity he may yet appear among the chosen
of the universe, no language can express, nor imagination
conceive.
The wise and benevolent Sovereign of Nature, reigning
with vigilant affection over innumerable worlds, peopled with
inhabitants whose organs are suited to their respective situa-
tions, all rejoicing in the existence, adoring the perfections,
and grateful for the goodness of the bountiful Creator; — what
a magnificent and ennobling scene ! While the melody of
praise and the incense of thanksgiving ascend from all quar-
ters of the universe towards the throne of the Almighty,
what shall we think of those few beings, perhaps of our race
chiefly, who refuse to join in the general symphony, and who
not only withhold the tribute of adoration and gratitude,
but audaciously deny the existence of the Creator ? Guilty
and miserable creatures ! they cast themselves out from the
great society of blessed intelligences, and forfeit the felicity
prepared for the grateful and obedient subjects of the Univer-
sal Sovereign.
In our cursory glance at Nature, we have seen a wonder-
ful scene, — minute precision, and splendid magnificence;
striking uniformity, and endless variety ; apparent careless-
ness and irregularity, and the most perfect order and exqui-
site arrangements, all united. In examining the parts, we
meet with skilful contrivance, admirable workmanship, and
exact adjustment. As there is an accurate adaptation and
reciprocal dependence of the parts, so those parts are com-
bined in one harmonious and magnificent whole. Obvious
ASTRONOMY. 147
traces of design every where occur ; and as certainly as de-
sign proves a designing cause, so certainly do we prove the
existence of an intelligent Creator. We do not, indeed, see
or feel the Deity, in the same manner as we see or feel a
material object. But although he himself is invisible, his
operations are manifest. Creation proclaims the being of
the Creator. The attributes of mind are evidently displayed ;
and the existence of God is as fully ascertained, as if we saw
him with his right hand upholding the sun, with his left di-
recting the stars in their courses, and heard his voice pro-
claiming, "I form the light, and create darkness; I, the
Lord, do all these things."
BOOK III.
THE PERFECTIONS OF DEITY.
CHAPTER I.
THE UNITY OF DEITY.
Design and contrivance are fully established by the facts
and arguments stated in the preceding part of this treatise.
But design and contrivance are acts of mind, and their ex-
istence in the universe plainly proves it to be the production
of an Intelligent Cause. We now, therefore, proceed to in-
quire into the character of the Supreme Intelligence, in so
far as it is discoverable in the works of his hand. We in-
deed know, and perhaps at present we can know, but little
about the Divine Essence, and the manner in which the
Deity exists and acts ; but our ignorance or imperfect knowl-
edge of those things is not even a shadow of argument against
the existence of the Supreme Being. It is nothing more
than a proof of our limited capacity. In investigating the
character of the Deity, as discoverable from his works, we
may assume it as a principle, that whatever qualities appear
in the design and contrivance, may justly be ascribed to the
designing and contriving Mind, in the degree, at least, in
which they are manifested in the design and execution. For
instance, the planets, bodies of vast magnitude, have been
projected with prodigious velocity ; and that velocity and the
direction have been so nicely adjusted to the quantity of mat-
ter in each of the planets, and to their respective distances
from the sun, as to make them describe such orbits as shall
ensure the stability and permanency of the system. We
cannot err in ascribing to the Author of the system a power
equal to the projection of the planets in their orbits with the
THE UNITY OF DEITY. 149
requisite velocity, and a wisdom equal to what was necessary
in order to the establishment of such conditions as are suf-
ficient for the security of the system. And in so far as the
constitution of things promotes the happiness of sentient be-
ings, the attribute of goodness must also be admitted.
Although we cannot err in ascribing to the Deity those at-
tributes which are manifested in creation, and in that degree
in which they are there displayed, yet we are not to limit the
perfections of God by his works. Before we can pretend,
from the works of Deity, to set limits to his attributes, two
conditions seem to be requisite. First, we must completely
understand the work in all its extent. Secondly, we must
perceive some defect in the obvious plan, which could arise
only from a limitation of the perfections. If the plan be per-
fect in its kind, we are not authorized to infer that he who
contrived and executed it was unable to have contrived and
executed a nobler plan. Because the architect has built a
cottage, we are not to conclude that he was incapable of con-
structing a palace. He has executed his plan; and we have
no evidence of his incapacity for a more extensive and splen-
did work. If the present work be well finished, according
to the obvious design, the presumption is, that he could
equally well have built a more superb mansion if he had un-
dertaken it.
In like manner, while we ascribe to God all the perfections
manifested in his works, we are not to imagine that all the
resources of his perfections were exhausted in the execution
of those works which fall under our inspection. He has ex-
ercised all that perfection which his plan required ; and the
presumption is, that he could have exercised more if more
had been needful. For example, mighty power is displayed
in the projection of the planets ; but we are not authorized to
infer that all the power of God was exerted in that projec-
tion. The power requisite. in order to the accomplishment
of the end was exerted ; the exertion of a greater degree of
power would have been subversive of the end; and, there-
fore, the exercise of power was regulated as well as directed
by wisdom. A similar observation may be applied to the
other attributes of God. In judging of his perfections from
his works, we must not lose sight of his plan, and we are to
ascribe to him all the perfections manifested in the plan, and
all that by legitimate reasoning can be deduced from the ex-
ecution of it.
It is reckoned a fundamental rule in philosophy, not to sup-
pose more causes than are needful to produce the effect. This
13*
150 THE UNITY OF DEITY.
principle conducts us to the unity of Deity ; for the necessi-
ty of finding an adequate efficient cause does not compel us
to have recourse to a plurality of gods. The power that was
equal to the creation of a part was equal to the creation of
the whole. But we are not obliged to rely on a principle of
this kind, in order to establish the unity of Deity. The uni-
formity of plan that pervades the system indicates unity of
counsel, at least in its formation. We can trace unity of plan
in the great fabric of the universe, so far as we are capable
of observing it. The law of gravitation prevails throughout
the solar system. All the bodies in that system seem to re-
volve on their own axes: all the planets move in the same
direction in the zodiac. The light of the fixed stars affects
the eye in the same w^ay as that of the sun ; and it travels at
the same rate, as we learn from the delicate discovery of their
aberration. On descending to our earth, we find a similar
uniformity prevailing, and can easily trace the harmonious
combination of many great parts into one magnificent whole.
The earth is a component part of the solar system ; and in
it many independent conditions must meet, in order to render
it a convenient residence for beings organized as its present
inhabitants are. It is a terraqueous globe, clothed w^ith an in-
visible aerial robe ; and the dry land is covered with a mould
capable of imbibing moisture and supporting vegetation.
The earth is enlightened and warmed by the sun, the cen-
tral body of the system. If the earth had been a detached
body, wholly unconnected with any other orb, darkness and
sterility would have established upon it an everlasting empire.
But the sun is provided ; a condition essential to vegetable and
animal existence. The atmosphere also was requisite. It
refracts and reflects the beams of the sun in all directions,
and sheds a flood of light on the earth. The sun exhales
vapors from the ocean ; the atmosphere supports those vapors,
and by its currents carries them to the dry land, where they
descend in refreshing showers, affording nourishment to vege-
tables, and a wholesome beverage to man and beast. With
all the conditions mentioned, the earth might have been the
mansion of melancholy silence and eternal sterility ; for the
sun, the atmosphere, the ocean, the soil, cannot produce a
single blade of grass, or a single herb, or a single tree, without
seed. But seed is liberally provided ; and hence the earth is
clothed wdth verdure and enriched with plenty.
The sun, however, might have beamed in the firmament,
the rain distilled on the tender plant, and luxuriant herbage
crowned the mountain and waved on the plain, without a sin-
THE UNITY OF DEITY. 151
gle sentient being to enjoy the scene, or partake of the rich
feast which the bountiful Creator had provided. But God
does not work in vain. Having fitted up such a noble habi-
tation, he replenished it with tenants of many different kinds,
all capable of enjoying the accommodations with which it is
stored, and of relishing the happiness which it is calculated
to afford. There are perhaps 21),000 different kinds of living
creatures upon our globe. Among these there is a great va-
riety ; but at the same time a uniformity so striking, as to
indicate the same skilful hand in their formation. They all
respire by lungs, gills, or air-tubes. All animals take in food :
in all, the processes of digestion and assimilation are carried
on ; and an excrementitious part is thrown off. They all
propagate their kinds.
Veoretables draw sustenance from inorganic matter, and
prepare food for sentient beings. Plants have their appro-
priate vessels for conveying the sap and peculiar juices
through the stem, branches, and leaves; animals have blood-
vessels for an analogous purpose. The gradations in the
animal world all proclaim the workmanship of the same hand.
Here we see a very complicated system : many independent
parts are combined into one harmonious whole. The differ-
ent parts of nature are admirably adjusted to each other. The
relations between the different parts of the system ; between
the sun, the earth, the air, and the ocean ; between the ani-
mate and inanimate parts of creation, direct us to one power-
ful Creator.
One agent is often made subservient to many different pur-
poses. One sun illuminates many worlds ; the light and
heat which emanate from that luminary answer many valua-
ble ends. To man the uses of air and water are multifarious.
The ocean is also the seat of much enjoyment, and the air
the chief scene of felicity to many a happy being. In travel-
ling over the earth, we meet with different climates ; nature
puts on various aspects ; and nations differ in their appear-
ance, manners, and laws. Still we meet with nothing indi-
cating the hand of a different artist, or the government of a
different sovereign. All nature points to one great Author.
Unity of plan pervades the universe ; and from this unity of
plan we may fairly infer the unity of Deity. One Supreme
Mind planned the great system of nature, still upholds it in
existence, and continually superintends the government of
the whole.
152 THE POWER OF DEITY.
CHAPTER II.
THE POV/ER OF DEITY.
That the Deity is an all-powerful Being evidently appears
from his works. The Architect who could build ti:e stupen-
dous fabric of the universe must be omnipotent. We can
conceive no bounds to the power of Him who was able to sta-
tion the sun in the firmament, and to launch the planets with
such velocity in their orbits. Limiting our view to the solar
system, which is merely a speck in the immensity of space,
and amid the myriads of worlds with which space is re-
plenished, must we not be amazed on beholding the sun in
majesty occupying a central position, and presiding over the
great globes, which in silent and unceasing revolution wheel
around him? Think on the dimensions of the planets, and
their rapidity in their orbits. What a potent arm must have
projected, with such prodigious velocity, those vast bodies
into the illimitable void ! Our earth, almost eight thousand
miles in diameter, travels about fifteen hundred thousand
miles in a day ; and, at the same time, it is spinning on its own
axis, and turning up, successively, the vegetables and ani-
mals which it nurses on its bosom, to the genial influence of
the solar rays. And, with this inconceivable rapidity, how
unceasing, steady, and uniform, are its motions ! The same
holds in the other planets, some of them vastly larger than
our globe. Each of them regularly and steadily performs its
revolutions. The Power capable of producing those effects
is immeasurably greater than w'hat we experience in our-
selves, or perceive in any visible agent, and may with pro-
priety be described as omnipotent ; because nothing in our
observation or experience authorizes us to set limits to it.
We ascribe injinity to all the attributes of Deity. But in-
finity is a word to which we can attach no precise concep-
tions. The very use of the word is an admission that the
thing to which it is applied is above the grasp of our com-
prehension ; and when applied to any of the perfections of
Deity, it means that those perfections go as far as our minds
can follow them, and how much farther we cannot tell. And
certainly, when we contemplate the power displayed in the
universe, and the numberless instances and incalculable va-
riety of the manifestations of wisdom and goodness, we may,
with reverence, admiration, and gratitude, describe those per-
fections of Deity as infinite.
THE WISDOM OF DEITY. 153
It is obvious that the Power which could create the world
is able to uphold it in being. God must preserve the world
which he has created, for that which derived its existence
from another does not necessarily exist. It could not so
exist in the first moment of its being, nor yet at any future
period; and must, consequently, owe the continuance of its
existence to Him from whom its being was primarily derived.
There is no medium between necessary existence and de-
pendence on a cause. A creature can no more preserve than
make itself
There is an essential difference between creation and works
of art. For though works of art cannot make themselves,
yet, when made, they can continue to exist without the artist
"who made them. A house cannot build itself; but, when
built, it stands as long as the materials and workmanship
last. We must observe, however, that the artist merely
gives a particular form to that matter which depends on the
power and will of the Creator for the continuance of its exist-
ence. The particular form given by the artist exists in sub-
jection to the laws which the Creator has established for the
government of that matter which he upholds in being. Al-
though the facts that God at first created, and that he still
preserves all things, are clear, yet the manner of creation and
of preservation are equally above our reach.
CHAPTER in.
THE WISDOM OF DEITY.
Wisdom is manifested m employing fit and adequate means
for the accomplishment of its ends. It obviously appears to
have been the purpose of God that this world should be a
proper place of residence for animals of many different kinds,
and that all the animals should enjoy the means of preserv-
ing, for a time, the life of the individual, and of continuing
the species. These ends are completely accomplished, and
accomplished by such a complicated and diversified combi-
nation of independent circumstances as gives a most exalted
view of the divine wisdom. This world was to be fitted up
as a place of residence for its present inhabitants. For this
purpose, light and heat, and air and moisture, were neces-
sary. Accordingly, the sun was provided to enlighten and to
warm the earth; a vast basin was scooped out, and the waters
154 THE WISDOM OF DEITY.
of the ocean poured into it ; the atmosphere was thrown
around the earth to be the carrier and dispenser of this moist-
ure exhaled by the sun.
Between the animated and in animated parts of nature we
i.ee the most astonishing relations. There is a fine corre-
spondence between the atmosphere and the respiratory organs
of animals. These organs are very different in different liv-
ing creatures; but in each they are wisely accommodated to
the configuration and circumstances of the animal, and in
all they accomplish their great vital function. In the atmos-
phere, and in the organs of respiration in connection with
the other parts of the constitution, we have an adequate pro-
vision tor the existence of the animal; but it is subject to a
daily and hourly waste, and needs a frequent supply. This
supply is provided, as well as a complete apparatus for taking
it into the system.
The earth is clothed with a great variety of vegetables,
which extract nourishment from inorganic matter, and afford
sustenance to man and beast. All the different animals are
furnished with means of subsistence ; and when we attend
to the manner in which every animal is fitted for collecting,
eating, and digesting its food, we perceive a display of con-
summate wisdom in the admirable adaptation and combina-
tion of means, in order to the accomplishment of an end. As
wisdom undeniably appears in the complete provision made
for the preservation of the individual, so it is equally mani-
fest in the efficacious means which are employed for the con-
tinuation of the species. Some classes of animals live longer
and some shorter, but all are capable of continuing their
kinds; and we see a wonderful system established, for nurs-
ing and protecting the young till they are capable of provi-
ding for themselves. No species perishes either through a
failure of the means of subsistence to the individual, or from
incapacity to continue the species; and the reproductive
powers of the several kinds are adapted and proportioned to
the term of their existence, aiKl to the dangers to which they
are exposed.
When we, then, consider the boundless extent and vast
variety of things, the skilful adaptations that every where oc-
cur, and the beautiful order and regularity that prevail in
nature, we must pronounce Him who was capable of conceiv-
ing and executi.'ior such a plan a Being of infinite wisdom.
His wisdom no diUiculty can bafHe ; it is equal to eveiy emer-
gency. In every possible combination of circumstances,
he at once perceives the best plan, and the best means for
THE GOODNESS OP DEITY. 155
carrying that plan into execution. But on the wisdom of
the Creator we have ah-eady had frequent opportunities of
remarking, when contemphiting particular parts of his works ;
and, with respect to man, considered as a moral agent, a
number of observations relating to this attribute of Deity will
prese*.it themselves, in a subsequent part of the treatise.
CHAPTER IV.
THE GOODNESS OF DEITY.
The same observations which prove the wisdom of Deity,
may, in general, be adduced as evidences of goodness ; for
if the end to be accomplished promote the happiness of sen-
tient beings, then every display of wisdom in the accomplish-
ment of that end is a demonstration of benevolence; and, in
most instances, the same facts which demonstrate wisdom,
prove benevolence also. In order to prove malevolence, or
even the absence of goodness, it would be necessary to show
that the life of the individual is a state of misery, or utterly
destitute of enjoyment, and that the preservation of that life,
and the continuation of the species, are merely a prolonga-
tion of suffering, or of insipid existence. It would be neces-
sary to prove this, not in a few insulated cases only, but to
show that it predominates in the system of nature. A proof
of this kind no person in the right use of reason will attempt.
Di. Paley rests the proof of the divine goodness on the
two following propositions : —
1st. " That, in a vast plurility of instances in which con-
trivance is perceivable, the design of the contrivance is ben-
eficial."
2d. *' That the Deity has superadded pleasure to animal
sensations beyond what was necessary for any other pur-
pose ; or v/hen the purpose, so far as it was necessary,
might have been effected by the operation of pain."
Both of these propositions can be clearly establishsd ; and
the establishment of them proves the goodness of Deity. I
shall therefore make a few observations in illustration of
them.
1st. " In a vast plurality of instances in which contrivance
is perceived, the design of the contrivance is beneficial."
This proposition I am inclined to render more general than
it is stated by Dr. Paley. For in animated nature, which
156 THE GOODNESS OF DEITY.
is the region where goodness is felt and enjoyed, I know of
no instance of contrivance which is not beneficial to the
being which is the object of that contrivance. The benefit
of the contrivance is indeed more obvious in some cases than
in others : in most cases, I believe, it may be perceived ; and
in no instance can it be shown to be injurious. It is obvious
in most of the organs of sense ; and all the organs of sense
are undeniably beneficial. Are not the articulations of the
bones beneficial? Is not the configuration of the alimentary
and intestinal canal beneficial ? Are not the hoof of the
horse and the paw of the lion beneficial ? Take any an-
imd, ap 1^ in attending to the whole, or to any part of its or-
ganization, you will find it adapted to the manners and cir-
cumstances of the animal, and conducive to its existence,
security, and happiness. Consider the vast variety of sen-
tient beings, as well as the various contrivances in their
structure, and when you reflect that all these are conducive
to their welfare, you must be astonished at the comprehen-
sive beneficence of the Creator.
The goodness of Deity is manifested in the liberal provis-
ion made for the subsistence of every living creature. There
is a relation strongly expressive of benignity between ani-
mated and inanimated nature; for the earth produces a suffi-
ciency for the subsistence of all the living beings upon it ;
and in life all animals seem to have enjoyment. The heart
of him who sympathizes with the inferior creatures in their
pleasures, will often be delighted on contemplating their feli-
city, and will feel its own happiness increased by witnessing
their enjoyments. If we turn to mankind, they, also, enjoy
much felicity. Even after all the evils that we bring upon
ourselves by the abuse of our free agency, we are oftener in
health than in sickness — oftener in joy than in sorrow.
That there are sorrows and pains, is evident ; but in human
life they do not preponderate. They will engage our atten-
tion in a subsequent part of the work.
2d. '' The Deity has superadded pleasure to animal sensa-
tions, beyond what was necessary for any other purpose ; or
where the purpose, so far as it was necessary, might have
been effected by the operation of pain."
If it be the will of the Supreme Being that sentient cit;a-
tures shall exist, he must endow them with the means and
capacities requisite to the continuation of their existence.
But those means might auswvjr the end, without contributing,
in any degree, to the hippiiioss of the animal. They might
demonstrate power and wisdom, and yet be no proof of good-
THE GOODNESS OF DEITY. 157
ness. For instance, food is necessary to the support of ani-
mal life ; every animal, therefore, must be provided with the
means of taking in food ; and if these means be well adapted
to the end, they certainly demonstrate wisdom. But the act
of eating might be attended with no pleasure ; nay, it might
be attended with positive pain ; and the animal might be
prompted to it merely by the desire of removing a greater
pain by submitting to a less. If there be enjoyment in taking
in food, which is certainly the case with all animals, then
this is a demonstration of goodness in the Creator ; for it
shows that he has superadded pleasure beyond what was ne-
cessary for the accomplishment of the purpose.
The organs of sense were either necessary to the existence
of the animal, or they were not necessary ; but, in either case,
they prove goodness in the Deity. For if we consider them
as necessary, still they might have performed their office
without communicating any positive pleasure ; but, in fact,
they are all sources of enjoyment to the creature, and conse-
quently proofs of goodness in the Creator. If we consider
them as not necessary, the proof of goodness is, at least, not
weakened. For, in this case, they must have been bestow-
ed merely as inlets to happiness, and are marks of gratuitous
goodness. If we glance at the organs of sense, however, we
shall find them not only useful, but also sources of pleasure.
What a variety of enjoyments do we obtain by means of the
eye ! That it is a large inlet of felicity, no person in the
right use of reason will deny. But if the Deity had been a
malevolent being, this organ might have been the occasion
of incredible infelicity and pain. In a diseased state, it
sometimes cannot bear the light. Unless the Deity had been
benevolent, the eye, even in its natural state, might have been
as much or more irritated by the action of light, than it pres-
ently is even when diseased. Compare, then, the difference
betv/een a sound and a diseased eye ; consider that the latter
might have been the natural state of the organ, and certainly
you will acknowledge the goodness of Deity.
Our minds are so constituted, that we receive pleasure
from the sight of many objects in nature : they might, how-
ever, have been so con^jtituted that the sight of those objects
would have been a source of perpetual ix^ritation and pain.
The verdure of the earth, which is so grateful to the eye, and
the variegated landscape, the mountain and the wood, the
valley and the stream, so exhilarating to the mind, might
have produced a contrary effect, and might have weighed as
much in the scale of pain, as they now do in that of pleasure.
14
158 THE GOODNESS OF DEITV.
What is true with respect to the eye, also holds of the other
organs of sense. The ear is a source of much enjoyment.
Music yields high gratification, and often soothes and cheers
the mind under the anxieties by which it is assailed. But
the ear might have been otherwise constituted. It might
have been so formed, that the gentlest whisper would have
acted as powerfully upon it as a peal of thunder now does ;
and that the most melodious note would have been as grating
as a piercing scream. How much more felicitous is our
present condition, than what it could have possibly been in
such circumstances !
The sense of smelling, also, not only contributes to our se-
curity, but greatly promotes our happiness. How exhila-
rating is the breeze impregnated with fragrant odors ! How
sweet the scent of the fields after a gentle summer shower !
If the Deity had not been benevolent, we might have been so
constituted that every object around us would have affected
our olfactory nerves as disagreeably as assafoetida, or even the
intolerable stench of the zurilla. Taste, likewise, is a source
of much pleasure. But if a malevolent being had been the
author of our existence, every thing might have been made
to taste like gall and wormwood. Feeling, also, might have
been the cause of great suffering; for every thing we touched
might have irritated like a nettle; but at present it is the
source of much pleasant sensation. All our senses are wise-
ly and beneficently accommodated to bur nature and circum-
stances, and so formed as both to contribute to our security
and to promote our happiness. AVhen we enjoy health and
the approbation of our moral nature, how cheerful and happy
do we feel ! Notwithstanding the murmurings of the queri-
monious satirist, or the complaints of the discontented phi-
losopher, man really is, or may be, a happy being. Nature
around him wears the aspect of placid satisfaction, exhibits
cheering scenes of active enjoyment, and utters the gladden-
ing note of felicity.
The goodness of Deity appears not only in the orpneral
structure of our body, and in the formation of the different
organs of sense, but also in that constitution of animated
beings in which there is an effort to heal wounds and expel
disease. The slightest bruise mi2:ht have festered, and, like
the breaking out of waters, might have increased till it de-
molished the organized fabric. But nature makes a healing
effort, and often wonderfully succeeds. This, however, is
not all. Medicinal substances are provided in the mineral,
vegetable, and animal kingdoms, of which man may avail
THE GOODNESS OF DEITY. 159
himself to aid the efforts of his constitution in healing wounds
and curing diseases. Here, as in every department of nature,
we meet with an order of things fitted to awaken the curiosi-
ty, invite the research, reward the ingenuity, and increase the
happiness of man.
The goodness of Deity has provided means not only for
healing wounds and curing diseases, but also for aiding our
organs of sense under the infirmities of nature and the de-
cays of age. The eye, for instance, is a beautiful and use-
ful, but delicate organ. It is liable to infirmity and decay;
but spectacles may be made to assist the sight under almost
every configuration of the eye, and in every period of life.
Similar remarks may be applied to the ear ; and the eye and
the ear are two great inlets of pleasure. An observation of
the same kind may be extended to our bodily diseases. The
malignity of the small-pox was greatly mitigated by inocula-
tion, and appears to be still farther subdued by vaccination.
These remarks show wisdom and goodness plainly engraven
on the face of nature ; for those attributes evidently predom-
inate, so far as our observations extend. -But before we are
able to explain all the phenomena, and to answer objections,
we must have some conception of the plan of Deity, particu-
larly in reference to man, who is unquestionably the chief
living being on this earth. He stands at the head of the
animal creation on our globe, and the scheme of government
which he is under, must, to a certain extent, affect the desti-
ny of the inferior creatures. The uniformity of the system
requires that, in so far as they share a common nature with
man, they shall be under the operation of common laws.
In forming an estimate of the perfections of God from his
works and government, we must attentively consider the end
he has in view. To form some imaginary scheme of our
own, and to pretend by that scheme to measure the divine
perfections as exhibited in the conduct of a very different
plan, is altogether absurd. We must take the plan of God,
as it may be fairly collected from the established system of
things ; and if that plan, and the means employed for carry-
ing it on, be compatible with wisdom and goodness, then all
objections against the divine perfections, arising from some
imaginary plan of our own, are nugatory. I shall, therefore,
in the following chapter, attend to the character and state
of man, which will lead to observations on the design and
government of the Deity respecting him.
160 THE CHARACTER AND STATE OF MAN.
CHAPTER V.
THE CHARACTER AND STATE OF MAN.
Man is the lord of this world, and he is honorably distin-
guished from its other inhabitants by peculiar qualities. In
considering his character and state, we observe that he is a
rational and immortal being ; that at present he is in a state
of trial and discipline, under a system of moral government;
and that his improvement and happiness are carried on and
promoted by the exercise of his faculties. To each of these
we shall for a little attend ; and a careful contemplation of
the phenomena will enable us to discover and understand the
plan of God respecting him.
I. Man is a rational being. While the inferior animals are
under the guidance of instinct, he is endued with nobler prin-
ciples. Besides appetites, which he has in common with the
brutes, he is dignified with intellectual, active, and moral
powers, which they do not possess. Perception, memory,
imagination, reason, a moral faculty, emotions, and a
voluntary faculty, are wonderfully combined in his nature,
and form a singular and interesting being. He can observe,
compare, and judge ; he can vary his means, and suit his
operations to the circumstances in which he is placed. He
can turn in upon himself, and trace the operations of his own
mind. He can survey the vast system of the universe, dis-
cover the laws by which it is governed, and learn the attri-
butes of the Creator and Governor from the works of his
hand. He can surround himself by a new creation, and
combine in endless variety the objects with which he is ac-
quainted. He remembers the past ; and the lessons of ex-
perience not only furnish him with instructions for the regu-
lation of his present conduct, but also enable him to antici-
pate what he may expect from the future. He hopes and
he fears ; he loves, and desires, and pursues ; he dreads and
he shuns. His moral faculty indicates the path of duty, and
it applauds or condenms. His intellectual and active powers
are finely adjusted to each other, and form a being capable
of much present enjoyment, and of vast improvement in in-
tellectual and moral excellence. How absurd is it to allege
that undesigning chance produced such an intelligent and
contriving being as man !
II. Man is immortal. The Creator has not constituted
him an ephemeral being. He is destined to inherit eternity.
THE CHARACTER AND STATE OF MAN. 161
And we are not driven to a future state in order to find a
remedy against present disorders. The conclusion nat-
urally results from a fair and candid consideration of the
phenomena.
First, Our bodily fabric dies and is dissolved ; but an
opinion in favor of the immortality of the soul has almost
universally prevailed in every age, and in every nation, among
all ranks of men, and in every stage of society. It is not the
badge of a sect, but the creed of man. We may find him
without arts and without laws ; but the sentiment of immor-
tality seems every where, and in every period, to have been
entertained. The mind is impressed with an involuntary pre-
sage of existence ; and although the notion of a future state
has been differently modified, according to the different cir-
cumstances of those who have believed it, still the same gen-
eral notion has prevailed. On this subject^ the joint opinion
of mankind, respecting a matter of common interest, is the
voice of their nature proceeding from the universal Parent, in-
timating to his children the happiness which they are formed
to enjoy, and the dignity and perfection which they are ca-
pable of attaining.
Sccondli/, The doctrine of immortality, the grand problem
respecting the nature of man, is attended with the same diffi-
culty as the being of God, and arising from the same cause —
the invisibility of the immortal principle. We are so much
accustomed to bring every thing to the test of our bodily
senses, and to be guided by their evidence, that we are dis-
posed to withhold belief in cases where they are incapable of
giving testimony. This, I believe, is a chief source of skep-
ticism, both with respect to the being of God and the immor-
tality of man. Some think that all the operations of mind
are the result of corporeal organization, and hence they infer
that mind must perish on the dissolution of the organized
fabric. Our knowledge, however, is by far too limited to
encourage us to lay much stress upon this inference, even
although the premises from which it is deduced were correct.
*' I do not see," says Dr. Paley, " that any impracticability
need be apprehended by these ; or that the change, even upon
their hypothesis, is far removed from the analogy of some
other operations which we know with certainty that the Deity
is carrying on."
For any thing we know, matter, under all its modifications
and combinations, is incapable of intellectual operations. If
the case should be otherwise, who can for a moment doubt
tlie ability of Hni who could attach thought and volition to
14*
162 THE CHARACTER AND STATE OF MAN.
matter, to continue those faculties under different organical
modifications. If the being of God be proved, the existence
of invisible mind is proved ; and the various and wonderful
combinations in the universe may lead us reasonably to tiiink
that, somewhere in the scale of being, matter and mind shall
be united. It has been correctly observed, that our notions
both of body and mind are merely relative ; that we can de-
fine the former only by the qualities perceived by our senses,
and the latter by the operations of which we are conscious ;
and therefore the immateriality of mind is involved in the
only conceptions of matter and mind that we are capable of
forming.
The doctrine of immortality, how wonderful soever it may
seem, is not more amazing than many facts presented to our
daily observation. Man, at the hour of his birth, undergoes
a mighty change in the means of his subsistence and mode
of his being ; and were he capable of anticipating that change,
and of reasoning upon it, his life in the world would appear
a problem as difficult as immortality does at present. Death
may immediately, in the natural course of things, put us into
a higher and more enlarged state of life, as our birth does.
The one, like the other, may be a continuation and enlarge-
ment of powers.* After birth there is a continuation and
enlargement of the same material fabric, which was formed
before we saw the light. That fabric death dissolves : we
have no reason, however, to conclude that death destroys the
thinking principle. The vegetable dies, to live no more ;
but it cannot be fairly pleaded that man falls under the same
law. The analogy does not hold ; for the vegetable attains^
the utmost maturity of which it is capable, and it is wholly
destitute of that which is the subject of our present consid-
eration— the cogitative substance, the capacity of perfection
and action. Now, it is about the continuation of this princi-
ple only that we are at present inquiring. Its material
means and instruments of perception and action may be de-
stroyed ; but, in a future state, it may have organs of per-
ception and means of communication, of which at present
we can form no idea.
Thivflly, Organized bodies may be dissolved, and the forms
and combinations of material substances altered. By these
alterations, the qualities as well as the form of bodies may
be changed. Our bodies are in a state of unceasing muta-
tion ; and these mutations, in many instances, greatly in-
* Butler's Analo«v.
THE CHARACTER AND STATE OF MAN. 163
fiuence our corporeal qualities ; but the consciousness of
identity is in no degree affected by those continual changes.
Hence, as well as by the only conception which we are ca-
pable of forming of mind, we are led to infer that the think-
ing principle is a simple and immaterial substance ; and if
it be so, the dissolution of the body by no means involves
the extinction of that principle. It may continue to exist,
to think, and to will, after the material tabernacle in which
it is at present lodged shall be laid in ruins. Indeed, it must
exist as a thinking principle, unless it be annihilated ; for it
cannot perish by alteration of form or dissolution of parts,
and that it will be annihilated we have no reason to suspect.
From the will in Deity to create, we may infer the design to
preserve ; and of annihilation we have no instances in the
material world. Forms are changed ; but substances re-
main, merely passing into new combinations. A simple and
immaterial substance, however, is not subject to a process of
this kind. While it exists, it must exist with properties un-
changed. The removal of its material instruments cannot
alter its essential qualities. But still, like every other cre-
ated being, the continuance of its existence depends on the
will of the Creator.
Fourthly, Creation bears testimony to the wisdom and
goodness of the Creator. All his plans are wisely contrived
and executed ; and we see nothing like a system of abortion
in his works. All orders of organized beings seem to reach .
the utmost perfection of which their constitution admits, and
to enjoy all the happiness of which they are capable. This
is equally true of the plant and of the animal ; and we have
no cause to suspect that- man is an exception from the gen-
eral rule. He is endued with faculties capable of high pro-
gressive improvement ; and we have no reason to think that,
in this world, he attains to all the perfection of which his na-
ture is susceptible, or that his powers of progressive excel-
lence, either moral or intellectual, are exhausted. We not
unreasonably presume, then, that he is destined to survive
the stroke of death, and continue his progress in improve-
ment in a more advanced stage of existence.
We do not here assume the wisdom and goodness of Deity
to prove the immortality of the soul, in order that, by the doc-
trine of immortality, we may obviate objections against the
divine attributes. No : w^e merely contend, that in so far
as wisdom and goodness appear in the other parts of nature,
they are exercised towards man. If they be so exercised to-
wards him, he must reach all that perfection, and enjoy all
164 THE CHARACTER AND STATE OF MAN.,
that happiness, of which he is susceptible ; for this seems a
law which pervades the system of sentient being, and we
have no evidence that man is an exception from it. Accord-
ingly, he must make all that progress in excellence of which
his nature is capable ; but we think that his capacity of im-
provement is not exhausted in this world ; and, therefore, we
look for another, where all his faculties will be fully expanded
and attain maturity.
Can we suppose that a creature endued with such noble
faculties, and capable of such progressive improvement, shall,
at once and forever, be arrested in his progress towards per-
fection 1 Has the Deity bestowed upon him powers capable
of grand advances in excellence, and shall he stop him in
his glorious career, blast his hopes, and destroy the fruit of
all his toils ? Has he inspired him with the sentiment of im-
mortality, merely to disappoint him ? With all his lofty ca-
pacities, attainments, and anticipations, is man merely an
ephemeral being ? Must his labors and his hopes perish in
the dust ? Must all the splendor of his moral and intellec-
tual nature vanish, like the meteor which gleams for a mo-
ment, and is extinguished forever ? Are all the intimations
of his nature, and of the world around him, mere delusions?
These things cannot be so. The phenomena of the universe
justify no such suppositions. Every thing conspires to in-
timate a different result. The sentiments of humanity, and
the perfections of God, as engraven on his works, bear testi-
mony to the immortality of man. The faculties which have
budded here shall blossom hereafter : the course of improve-
ment begun in time shall be continued in eternity. How far
his fficulties may yet expand, to what degrees of excellence
he may yet attain, and with what dignity he may yet appear
among the rational offspring of the Supreme Intelligence, n
language can express or imagination conceive. O my soul,
still cherish, fondly cherish, the sublime hope of immortality !
While the dark and cheerless infidel looks to the grave as ter-
minating his existence, like a river drunk up by the sand of
the wilderness, still fix thine eye on the ocean of eternity !
Remember the grandeur of thy prospects, the loftiness of
thy hopes, and study to think and act as it becomes a being
who shall yet associate with the highest created intelli-
gences in the universe, be engaged in the most exalted
employments, and stand near the throne of the mighty
Sovereign of Nature !
On tliis subject, I have merely glanced at the phenomena
of nature and the sentiments of humanity ; and I contend for
THE CHARACTER AND STATE OF MAN. 165
the truth which they seem to establish. If the evidence of
the immortality of the soul be not so clear and decisive as
some might desire, it may be remarked, that a certain degree
of obscurity is not unsuitable to a system of moral agency,
where we are called upon to act on probable and reasonable
grounds, without expecting such a degree of evidence as will
irresistibly force conviction ; for if we suppose conviction to
be irresistible, and also that such conviction irresistibly regu-
lates conduct, what is this but necessity? But that man
either is, or ought to be, a necessary agent, cannot for a mo-
ment be admitted.
Further, the degree of evidence on this subject is sufficient
to influence human conduct ; for it appears probable, at least,
that man shall exist in a future state of being, and that his
condition in that state shall be determined by his dispositions
and conduct here. AVhat, in such circumstances, is the dic-
tate of sound wisdom ? It surely is, to live as if we were
certain of a future state of existence ; for by pursuing this
course we cannot possibly be losers. If there be a future
state, then, we shall gain all the advantages resulting from
our wise conduct : if there be no future state, we lose nothing.
Nay, we are gainers ; for the dispositions to be cultivated,
and the conduct to be pursued, in the view of a future retri-
bution, are such as ensure the greatest share of happiness in
a present world. On the other hand, if any, because the evi-
dence of immortality is not so clear and cogent as they could
wish, shall live in the total disregard of a state of future retri-
bution, then, if such a state actually awaits them, is there not
great danger of their having committed an irreparable error,
and of having subjected themselves to a dreadful, perhaps ir-
retrievable, loss ?
II. Man is at present in a state of trial and discipline, un-
der a system of moral government ; and to fit him for this
state he is constituted a free agent. He is endued with in-
tellectual and active powers : he has judgment to know the
meaning of a commandment, and ability to obey it. By
" moral government " we understand the establishment and
operation of laws for the direction of rational beings, and the
enforcing those laws by rewards and punishments. The
subject of such a government must be a free agent.
1. By the liberty of a moral agent we understand a power
over the motives which affect the determinations of his own
will ; and we call man a free agent in the same way, and
with the same limitations, as we pronounce him a rational
being. Every man has a conviction that he is free^ and acta
166 THE CHARACTER AND STATE OF MAN.
towards others in the persuasion that they also are free. Our
deliberations, purposes and promises, all suppose liberty in
ourselves ; and our advices, exhortations and commands, sup-
pose it m others. That man is a free agent appears to me
indubitable. On this subject philosophers may talk, but con-
sciousness and experience decide. I am conscious of free-
dom. I can weigh motives. I can judge which are most
consonant to sound reason and to ray best interest ; and yet
can decline regulating my conduct by them. I can choose
and refuse. I can act agreeably to the convictions of my
understanding, or I can pursue a different course. Advice
and exhortation may influence conduct, but they do not im-
pair liberty. The same is the case with motives ; they may
prompt to action, but they do not act. A necessary agent,
whose actions are as irresistibly determined by desires or
motives as a stone in falling to the ground is by the great
law of gravitation, cannot be the subject of moral gov-
ernment. He is incapable of virtue or vice, and unfit for
reward or punishment.
" Not free, what proof pould they have given sincere
Of true allegiance, constant faith, or love,
Where only what they needs must do appeared,
Not what they would ? What praise could they receive 1
What pleasure I, from such obedience paid,
When will and reason (reason also is choice),
Useless and vain, of freedom both despoiled,
Made passive both, had served necessity,
Not me ? "
Necessary agency and moral government are altogether in-
compatible. The one of them naturally excludes the other.
Every encroachment on free agency implies a corresponding
limitation of moral government. A necessary agent can
neither be praised nor blamed. Resembling a magnet trav-
ersing on its pivot, and turning towards the polar points, his
will has no part in the determination of his actions. Such a
being cannot, any more than the magnet, be the subject of
reward or punishment. The determination of the will is the
first part of the action, on which alone its moral value de-
pends. Unless man be a free agent, there can be no more
moral worth in any part of his conduct than in the beautiful
coloring of a fly's wing, in the melody of a thrush's note, or
in the neat construction of a chaffinch's nest. Moral govern-
ment implies free agency.
2. Man is not only a free agent, but also an accountable
creature. He is the subject of a moral government.
Some ancient philosophers, although they professed to bos.
THE CHARACTER AND STATE OF MAN; 167
lieve in the being of God, yel, taught that he gave himself no
concern whatever about the affairs of this lower world. They
represented him as enjoying a state of listless tranquillity and
indolent repose above the clouds ; inattentive to the actions,
and careless of the destiny, of men. This monstrous doc-
trine was a proper sequel to the irrational creed, that the
world had been formed, not by the power and wisdom of
Deity, but by a fortuitous concourse of atoms. In order to
the belief that God took no notice of the affairs of the world,
it was necessary first to exclude him from any concern in its
formation ; tor if they had admitted that all things were made
by him, it would not have been easy to have proved that he
had divested himself of all regard to the works of his hand,
and, like an unnatural parent, had ceased to think of them,
to love, and to protect them. But sound reason, contempla-
ting all the phenomena, rejects as absurdities the dogmas of
the Epicurean school, and pronounces that the Deity exer-
cises not only a providential care over all his works, but also
a moral government over man.
The providential care of the Almighty is evident in the
preservation of the established order of things, so that an ad-
equate provision is made for supplying the wants, and admin-
istering to the enjoyments, of sentient beings. He more par-
ticularly exercises the right of an equitable sovereign over
his rational offspring. His will is to them a law, and this
law harmonizes with the system of nature in proclaiming
the benevolence of Deity, by promoting the happiness of man.
The law is not the arbitrary and capricious volition of an
Omnipotent Ruler. It emanates from wisdom and benigni-
ty, and is directed towards the general good, in a consist-
ency with all the attributes of tlie Creator. The great prin-
ciple of the law is utility ; or, in other words, what the Deity,
in his boundless wisdom, saw would be best, not merely for
one or a few uidividuals, but for all ; best for all, if all were
to obey it.
Tlie Ir.w is intimated to us by reason and the moral f\iculty,
and the course of nature countenances and supports it. Rea-
son, pondering all tlie phenomena, instructs us to revere the
Deity ; to exercise justice, candor and mercy towards our
fellow-men ; and to cherish temperance, fortitude, and dili-
gence in our several avocations. But for the discovery of the
great outlines of the will of God and duty of man, w^e are not
left to tJA- exercise of reason alone. Conscience, or the
moral iaoakv, comes in to the aid of reason; and, by reason
and conscience, all men perceive the great features of moral
1G8 THE CHARACTER AND STATE OF MAN.
law.* Accordingly, there are certain dispositions and actions
which have been always applauded or commended, and others
which, as generally, have been the subjects of censure or de-
testation. All men approve of piety, benevolence, integrity,
veracity, temperance, fortitude, industry ; all men disapprove
of contrary dispositions and conduct. Reason and the moral
faculty may be perverted. This perversion, however, results
from the abuse of free agency ; and for it mankind have
themselves to blame. Man is a free agent; but his body, his
mind, and nature around him, are so constituted, that if he
exercise his freedom in an irregular and capricious manner,
in defiance of the dictates of reason and conscience, he must
suffer a corresponding loss of happiness, or degree of pain.
3. Man, even in his present state, is happy or unhappy,
rewarded or punished, as he obeys or disobeys the law. This
is a demonstration of a moral government.
That the virtuous person, or he who performs his duty by
obeying the will of God, enjoys much happiness; and that
the vicious person, or he who lives in the habitual violation
of the law intimated to him by reason and conscience, is sub-
ject to much infelicity, are truths so obvious, that they have
not escaped observation in any age. All men, indeed, suf-
fer a greater or less degree of uneasiness and pain ; but the
virtuous man experiences far less than the vicious. The first
tastes all those joys which the moral constitution of his nature
imparts : the last not only loses those joys, but suffers the
miseries flowing from a disapproving mind.
There are sources of pleasure and pain common to us with
the inferior animals, and consequently independent on :noral
conduct. Active exertion, animal gratification, worldly suc-
cess, and the contemplation of some kinds of excellence,
yield enjoyment both to good and bad men. Although the
Deity has demonstrated his goodness by multiplying the
sources of felicity, yet the purest and most constant stream
flows into the bosom of the virtuous person. He who obeys
the Vv'ill of God has the fairest prospect of enjoying bodily
health. If two persons, with constitutions equally sound,
enter together on the career of life, and if one of them pur-
sue a moral and the other an immoral course, it will appear,
at no distant period, that moral conduct has the advantage in
point of bodily health. The virtuous man also enjoys most
peace of mind ; and this peace of mind contributes, in no
small degree, to health of body.
* By reason T understand the faculty by which we judj^c between truth and
error, and combine means for the attainment of ends ; by conscience, or tli«
moral faculty, lliat by which we distinguish between right and wrong.
THE CHARACTER AND STATE OF MAN. 169
We are so constituted that reason and conscience not only
indicate tlie will of God and the path of duty, but encourage
and applaud us when we follow their direction, and disap-
prove and censure us when we pursue a contrary course.
The good man, feeling the favor of God in the approbation
of his own mind, looks forward with an humble and cheerful
confidence to the future. There is no load on his breast,
and he dreads no evil. But the bad man is often uneasy :
he is haunted by remorse, and depressed and agitated by
gloomy and painful anticipations. How soothing are the ac-
cents of an approving mind! What 'a sweet serenity, what
a delightful complacency do they diffuse over the soul ! On
the other hand, the condemnfition of reason and conscience
is bitter as gall and wormwood. Under their censure and
reproof we feel restless, mortified, and unhappy ; and against
the chidings of those internal monitors no bad man can at all
times fortify himself. They are perpetual spies on his
thoughts and actions, and their bitter reproaches will be as
thorns in his pillow. No external circumstances can rob the
good man of the exalted enjoyment flowing from the appro-
bation of his own mind.
Obedience to the will of God is the surest way to obtain a
competent portion of the good things of the world; for he
who regulates his conduct by the law, is temperate and indus-
trious, diligent in gaining and moderate in spending, and
thus likely to enjoy a competency, I see no superstition in
believing that the righteous Governor of the Universe, looking
down with an eye of complacency on his dutiful children, may
graciously crown their exertions with much success.
The good person also enjoys the esteem and affection of
his fellow-men. Look at two individuals : the one is pious,
upright, humane, temperate, and industrious; the other is
irreligious, unjust, malignant, treacherous, indolent, and de-
bauched. Which of these two would you choose for your
friend ? To which of them would you commit a trust ? All
men instantly, and with one voice, give the preference to the
virtuous one. They esteem him ; they love him ; they wish
him well. But the vicious person is the object of their con-
tempt or detestation. Now, health of body, peace of mind,
a competency of the good things of the world, and the es-
teem of mankind, are rewards which the righteous Sove-
reign, in the ordinary course of his government, bestows upon
his obedient subjects, A diseased body, an unhappy mind,
poverty, and contempt, are punishments inflicted on the dis-
obedient. It is obvious that the natural course of thingK
15
170 THE CHARACTER AND STATE OF MAN.
tends to the production of these effects ; and if it be so, we
are entitled to affirm, that the system of nature gives a sanc-
tion to the laws of the sovereign, and that a moral govern-
ment is now carrying on. The instances in which such
effects are not produced are exceedingly rare; and at these
exceptions we need neither be surprised nor offended, in
a vast scheme of free agency going on under the operation
of general laws. Such exceptions are perfectly compatible
with a state of trial and discipline, in which all our powers
of body and mind must be improved and strengthened by
exercise.
4. Exercise and trial are powerful means of improvement
and sources of happiness; and a future retribution awaits us.
Man, as we have already seen, is a moral agent ; and^
generally speaking, he is happy or unhappy, as he obeys or
disobeys the law intimated to him by reason and conscience.
He is, at present, in a state of probation and discipline, under
the eye of his Sovereign and Judge ; and his improvement is
carried on, and his happiness promoted by exercise and trial.
We come into the world feeble in body and in mind, but
with the seeds of improvement in both ; and these seeds grow
according to tlie cultivation they receive from exercise. The
body grovis in stature and in strength, and the mind gradu-
ally expands. But exercise is requisite to the development
both of our corporeal and mental capacities. In the course
of years, indeed, the body grows ; but without exercise it is
feeble and inactive ; and the mind, wholly undisciplined, re-
mains in a weak and infantile state. That exercise which
is requisite, in order to bodily health and vigor, and to the
evolution of our intellectual and moral powers, is not only the
chief means of our improvement, but also the main source
of our happiness. Without exercise of body and of mind
there can be no enjoyment.
The constitution of nature and the government of the Cre-
ator are such as to call forth our bodily exertions, and to solicit
and encourage the exercise of our intellectual and moral ca-
pacities. We are placed in circumstances calculated to
awaken our faculties, to rouse activity, and to stimulate ex-
ertion. And man, when his powers are fully brought into ac-
tion, can both do and suffer beyond what he would have pre-
viously imagined. He can pass triumphantly through scenes
which, in anticipation, he would have thought overwhelming.
Under these trials, if he act wisely, he makes the most rapid
progress in improvement, and the retrospect yields him the
most exalted enjoyment.
EVIL IN THE WORLD. 171
In all our conceptions, exertion is connected with success
and renown. A triumph without an enemy combated and a
victory won — a prize where no course is marked out, and no
competitor starts with us in the race — are notions which do
not find a ready admission into our minds. Such is our con-
stitution, that, according to our usual train of thinking, where
there is no exertion there can be neither honor nor reward.
Progress in moral and intellectual excellence is our duty,
our honor, and our interest. To be stationary or retrograde
is disgraceful. In the progress of improvement, the present
life soon comes to a close ; but we are immortal beings, and
we have reason to think that there is an intimate connect on
between the present and the future. The whole of the Di-
vine government, as exhibited in the course of nature, mani-
fests a regard to piety, integrity, and sobriety ; and an oppo-
sition to vice. The probability certainly is, that the great
scheme, which is evidently going on at present, will be con-
tinued in a future state of being ; and that they who have
done their duty here, by employing their faculties and the
talents intrusted to their care in conformity to the will of the
Creator, as intimated in his works, and more clearly revealed
in the Scriptures, and who have passed through their various
trials with improvement, will, after death, enter on a nobler
stage of existence, where they will still pursue the course of
excellence ; while they who have disregarded the intimations
©f reason and conscience, will suffer a corresponding loss.
CHAPTER VI.
EVIL IN THE WORLD.
From our inquiries in the foregoing part of this treatise, it
appears that there is a Being all-powerful, wise, and good,
by whom every thing exists. The existence of this Being is
demonstrated by every part of the universe which we are
capable of observing ; for, throughout the immense field that
lies within the limits of the telescope on the one hand, and
of the microscope on the other, we every where meet with
manifestations of contrivance, with mutual adaptations, and
reciprocal dependencies ; and by the constitution of our na-
ture we are induced and constrained to believe in the exist-"
ence of a designing and contriving mind, an essence in which
perceptions meet, and from which volitions flow. It is ob-
172 EVIL IN THE V/ORLD.
vious, that to this contriving mind we must attribute power,
wisdom, and goodness, in the degree at least necessary for
constructing and carrying on the great system of the universe;
and we have seen that the manifestation of those perfections
pervades the whole scheme of nature.
But do all appearances in the natural and moral world ex-
actly correspond with this representation? Does every thing
throughout the universe obviously harmonize with the belief
of a God all-powerful, wise, and good ? Are there no diffi-
culties, no apparent inconsistencies, either in the natural or
moral world ? To such inquiries we may answer in general,
that, in a system which we do not fully understand, it were
unreasonable to expect that in every instance we should be
able to give an explanation admitting of no doubt and of
no reply.
From the phenomena of nature it clearly appears that the
Deity is immeasurably exalted above us. We inhabit a small
province in his boundless empire, forming perhaps a link in
a mighty chain of intelligent being under him, and ought not
to consider ourselves as a detached fragment of his works,
but as a harmonious part of one great whole. His plan no
doubt embraces the whole destiny of our race, from the be-
ginning to the end of the world. The administration of such
a scheme is too comprehensive to be understood by us in all
its extent ; and certain and perfect knowledge is by no means
necessary to a moral agent. It is enough if we have such
information as shall lay a rational foundation for the regula-
tion of our conduct, for encouraging our hopes, awakening
our ambition, and quickening our diligence. There is nothing
unreasonable in supposing that there are higher created in-
telligences than we : they no doubt know more than we do;
but it is likely that their knowledge of the universe and of
the divine government is by no nierins perfect, and that the
Author of the system is the only being who fully compre-
hends every part of it.
Difficulties which we are unable fully to solve may occur;
but these difficulties, it is reasonable to think, arise solely
from our ignorance and incapacity, and not from any imper-
fection in the works or government of God. Accordingly,
the difficulties will appear more numerous or more formida-
ble to some persons than to others. They will vanish in pro-
portion as the light of knowledge increases, in the same way
that darkness disappears before the rising sun. Beings of a
higher order, of greater capacity, and more extensive knowl-
edge than man, probably meet with fewer difficulties in tne
EVILS OF IMPERFECTION. 173
works and government of God than we do, and perhaps not
in the same instances. To a well-informed person, of a
sound understanding, many things may appear plain and or-
derly, that seem dark and inconsistent to one of less knowl-
edge and sagacity. In the progress of knowledge, those
things which seem inexplicable to one generation may be
well understood by another. We know more than they of
past ages did ; but still there are many things of which we
are ignorant, and many things, perhaps, of which man wiH
always remain ignorant. Of the cause of gravitation we
know nothing. Why the magnet attracts iron, and, when al-
lowed to move freely, turns itself towards the polar points,
and why poles of the same name repel each other, we do not
understand. Many things relating to electricity have hither-
to escaped our research, and the operations of this substance
on the great scale of nature we can neither fully estimate nor
explain. Our knowledge of the works of the Creator is lim-
ited and partial, and that of his ways is not more perfect.
Even in these circumstances, however, we hold it to be a
rational and edifying exercise to inquire into the attributes of
Deity as manifested in his w^orks and government ; but our
investigations ought to be conducted with reverence, and un-
der a sense of the immeasurable distance between God and
man. Many of the objections which have been urged against
the wisdom and goodness of the Creator we can fully and
fairly answer, and of others we can give a probable solution :
but wisdom and goodness appear in so many instances, that
it is not unreasonable to believe in their existence even when
we are unable to trace them. What we purpose to say fur-
ther on this subject will be arranged under the heads of Evils
of Imperfection, Moral Evil, and Natural Evil. The first of
these will not detain us long ; but on the two last we intend
to dwell at greater length.
I. EVILS OF IMPERFECTION.
Why was not man made so tall as to be capable of wading
the ocean ? Why has he not the strength of the elephant,
and the piercing eye of the eagle ? Why are not his intel-
lectual faculties more powerful, so that his perceptions of
truth might be more clear, and his conduct more regular?
That the objections involved in such questions are absurd,
can, I think, be plainly shown. This class of objections, in
reality, precludes all gradation of being, for they may be
urged against the existence of every creature. Why was
15*
174
EVILS OF IMPERFECTION.
not every clod of earth made a sentient being? Why was
not every sentient being endued with reason 1 Why was not
every rational nature adorned with all the attributes of Deity ?
Such is the extent of the objection, and its extent proves its
absurdity ; for absurd must every objection be which still
remains in full force, what changes soever we suppose intro-
duced in consistency with the notion of a Creator and crea-
tures, of a Sovereign and subjects.
If it be alleged that this is straining the objection, which
is meant to be applied to beings in certain circumstances
only, then let the objector give a clear and consistent ac-
count of these circumstances. Let him determine the point
beneath which sentient existence ought never to descend.
Does he fix it at reason? Man possesses that faculty, and to
his nature on that point no objection can be made. A grada-
tion of creatures is unquestionably consistent with wisdom
and goodness in the Deity ; for, if a good objection lies
against creatures occupying any one place in the scale, a
similar objection may be urged against those occupying any
other place in it. Is the capacity of happiness reckoned es-
sential to sentient existence? It is evident that animals,
under the guidance of instinct merely, are susceptible of
much enjoyment. And do not irrational creatures, while en-
joying much happiness themselves, contribute to the comfort
and felicity of rational beings? This, I apprehend, can-
not be denied. Unorganized matter nourishes vegetables.
Vegetables feed many sentient beings. Vegetables and ir-
rational animals support rational natures. In the gradation,
the inferior ministers to the sustenance, improvement, or hap-
piness of the superior parts. This process reaches as far as
our observation extends. While the inferior are thus related
to the superior parts in the scale, every class of sentient be-
ings enjoys happiness in its own sphere.
The question is not whether we can conceive man to have
been made a nobler being than he is. I perceive nothing
unreasonable in believing that, in the multitude of worlds
with which the universe is replenished, there are many crea-
tures vastly superior to the human race. But the inquiry is,
whether the constitution and circumstances of man, such as
they are, be compatible with the existence of an all-power-
ful, wise, and good Being, the Creator and Governor of the
universe. The discussion of this subject leads to the con-
sideration of moral and natural evil, from which the most
important difficulties respecting the perfections and govern-
ment of God arise. Before entering upon these topics, we
EVILS OF IMPERFECTION. 175
shall here state some facts or principles, which, although they
have been already mentioned more or less diffusely, may be
here repeated, in order that they may be more distinctly re-
membered.
1. Man is a free agent. If the Deity be possessed of all
moral perfections, it must be agreeable to his nature to exer-
cise a moral government. But the subjects of a moral gov-
ernment must be free agents ; for a necessary agent is a mere
machine, and is as unfit for being the subject of a moral
government as a steam-engine or a wind-mill. Now, if it be
consistent with wisdom and goodness to create free agents,
and to place them under a moral government, then the con-
sequences of free agency and moral government cannot be
pleaded as objections against those attributes.
2. We are so constituted that our improvement and happi-
ness are carried on and promoted by exercise, discipline, and
trial. On this fact, however, I shall not at present dwell;
for it has been already stated, and will be further illustrated
in a subsequent part of the treatise.
These are unquestionably two great principles in the hu-
man constitution, and unless it can be shown that they are
inconsistent with wisdom and goodness in the Deity, all
objections against those attributes must be dissipated like
smoke before the wind. The first of those principles ac-
counts for the moral evil in the world ; and the second throws
light on the natural evils to which we are exposed, in cases
which remain unexplained by the first.
In the course of this discussion, it must still be remem-
bered that we are not to conceive of the Deity as a being of
blind and indiscriminating benevolence, but as possessing all
possible excellencies in the highest degree, and in a state of
harmonious combination. He is not good only, but wise, and
just, and faithful, and holy ; and all those attributes act con-
sistently with each other. We are also to remember that the
evils in the world are comparatively rare and partial occur-
rences, spread over a large surface ; sufficient to stimulate
activity and encourage virtue, but, unless prodigiously in-
creased by the abuse of free agency, are by no means so great
or so numerous as to overwhelm our faculties or destroy our
happiness. True, indeed, were we to collect all the variety
of wickedness, suffering, and distress, from every period of
time, and from every place in the world, and to present it in
one unmingled assemblage, it would exhibit a fearful aggre-
gate. But this aggregate would not be a picture of human
life. It would not be a fair picture of the earth, to heap to-
176 MORAL EVIL.
gether all the volcanoes, naked rocks, sandy deserts, thorns,
and briers, which occur on its surface. It would not be a fair
representation of the animal world, to crowd together into
one horrid spot all the serpents, and scorpions, and lions, and
tigers of the earth. This were to collect in one point, and
without mixture, what in nature is sprCvad over a vast surface,
and interspersed with large scenes of beauty, and copious
sources of enjoyment. It were to represent what is uncom-
mon and extraordinary, as if it were the universal state of
the earth, and the common lot of man. It were like de-
scribing the sun as a mass of darkness, because black spots
are at times discernible on its disk.
The evils that are in the world, in many instances, serve
as the seasonings of life. They not only give a relish to its
enjoyments, but they also promote the development of our
faculties and the improvement of our virtues. And it is
evident that, amidst all the vicissitudes of this chequered
scene, man is more commonly in health than in sickness ; his
countenance is much more frequently enlightened by joy
than clouded by sorrow.
II. MORAL EVIL.
The human body is a noble structure, indicating consume
mate wisdom and great goodness in the Architect ; and it is
a suitable temple for the residence of the mind. It is a ma^
terial febric, and consequently subject to the laws by which
the material world is governed.
The mind, whether we contemplate it in a moral or intel-
lectual point of view, is endued with high capacities. The
understanding is susceptible of great improvement, and capa-
ble of splendid attainments. Complaints, however, against
the moral constitution of our nature and the evils thence re-
sulting, have been loud, by those who v/ish to devolve upon
the Author of our being the blame of our own misconduct.
But, whatever may be the cavils of the querimonious sophist,
we are not cast as a wreck upon the moral ocean, without a
pilot or a helm. Our Creator has graciously bestowed upon
us a moral nature. He has with his own finger written the
law of virtue upon our heart, and which the apostasy has not
wholly effaced. Reason and conscience point out the path
of duty and happiness ; and they applaud and encourage us
when we do well, and disapprove and censure us when we
disobey their intimations. When we pursue an upright
course, we feel complacency and elevation of soul arising
MOUAL EVIL. 177
from the approbation of our own mind, V\^hen conscience
condemns us, we stand degraded in our own estimation.
All men commend the good and the virtuous. A pious,
benevolent, equitable, industrious, temperate, and prudent
person meets with general approbation, while one of a con-
trary character is as generally blamed. Besides, the consti-
tution of the natural world supports our moral perceptions
and judgments, tending to confer bodily health and a com-
petency of the good things of life upon the virtuous man ;
while, from the moral constitution of our nature, he also en-
joys peace of mind, and the respect and good-will of his fel-
low men. It is a law in the natural world that bodies tend
towards the centre. It is, in like manner, a law in the moral
world that virtue promotes happiness, and that vice is the
parent of misery. If we were capable of taking a full and
comprehensive survey of the government of the v/orld, in all
its bearings and relations, we would perceive that virtue as
certainly tends to our welfare as the fruits of the earth to
our physical comfort. According, then, to the moral and
natural system of the world, the path of virtue is the road to
happiness : the way of vice, how gay soever may be its dec-
orations, conducts to the region of sorrow.
In opposition to what has now been said, it may be alleged
that men differ in their moral perceptions and estimates ; that
what one people reckons blameless or praiseworthy, is con-
demned by another; and that the inhabitants of one country
esteem honorable what, in a different nation, is thought de-
grading ; that the Chinese expose their infants, and Indians
knock their aged parents on the head, or leave them to starve
in the wilderness; that a Georgian boasts of the number
of public executioners that have besn in his family, while,
in Iceland, no person can be found to inflict a capital pun-
ishment.
To this we reply, that our moral powers, as well as our
other ficulties, may be misled and perverted. They are
fitted to each other, and are equally susceptible of improve-
ment or deterioration. Educntion, fashion, and habit, have
a vast influence on our intellectual operations, and exercise
a powerful sway over our moral judgments. But this does
not disprove the moral constitution of man, nor establish any
orio-inil difference of moral sentiment among different fami-
lies of the human race, any more than an artificial difference
in the figure of some parts of the body proves a different or-
ganization. On viewing the distorted cranium of some tribes
178 MORAL EVIL.
of American Indians, or the small feet of the females in the
Chinese empire, shall we maintain that nature has assigned
no particular shape or size to the human head and feet ? Be-
cause different nations entertain different opinions concern-
ing the figure of the earth, or the motions of the solar system,
shall we argue that reason is essentially different in the in-
habitants of different nations, or that the figure of the earth,
and the motions of the solar system, are merely ideal, and
have no real existence? In like manner, on witnessing a
difference of moral sentiment, shall we imagine that the
Creator has bestowed no moral nature on man, or that there
is an original difference in the moral constitution of human
beings '? No : both in the one case and in the other the pe-
culiarity is a perversion. It is the triumph of bad education
and vicious fashion over the appointment of the Creator. It
is a deviation from the common character of the race, and
has arisen from some particular combination of circumstances.
And were we thoroughly acquainted with the peculiar cir-
cumstances of those nations among whom any singular moral
perversity prevails, we would likely be able, in those circum-
stances, to trace the causes of the aberration. False moral
judgments need not surprise us more than any other intellect-
ual aberration.
While the law of virtue is engraved on our hearts, we are
not compelled to obey it. Obedience is encouraged by many
powerful motives, but it is not enforced by a mechanical or
irresistible impulse. We are free agents; and beings of this
description, although formed with an original bias towards
rectitude, may abuse their liberty. If it be consistent with
the attributes of Deity to create free agents, and to exercise a
moral government over them, then neither the abuse of free
agency nor the consequent suffering constitutes any objection
against the Creator : blame attaches to the creature only.
On this subject, nothing comes fairly under discussion but
the original constitution of the agent, and the circumstances
in which he is placed. Now, the moral faculties of man are
well adapted to his condition. They may yield to the temp-
tations by which they are assailed, but are strong enough to
repel those temptations, if we choose wisely to exercise them.
Where there is no risk of failure, there is no honor in suc-
cess : if our moral faculties had been so vigorous and active
as to impel us in the right path, without any hazard of devia-
tion, there would have been no value in moral rectitude.
Such a constitution would not have been adapted to a statQ
MORAL EVIL. 179
where the agents are to rise towards perfection, triumph, and
safety, by steady perseverance, and vigorous exertion in a
scene of discipline, dilHcuhy, and trial.
As free agents may abuse their liberty, so, after moral evil
is once introduced, it is continued and fostered by bad educa-
tion, false maxims, and vicious example. Our Creator has
endued us with noble capacities; but the evolution of those
capacities and their particular direction are left to ourselves.
By persevering discipline we can render the body capable of
surprising operations, as is evident in the feats of the juggler,
rope-dancer, and tumbler. The mind is still more completely
subject to our dominion, and we aiay stamp upon it what
impressions soever we please, almost with as much certainty
as the Indian, by compression, gives to the head of his infimt
the shape which the fashion of his tribe dictates. Whether
the moral germ, planted in our mind by the finger of the Cre-
ator, shall become a lovely plant, or a crooked and stunted
shrub, depends on ourselves. We are empowered to be the
architects of our character and the authors of our destiny.
By education and discipline we can form any particular
temper, and give the empire of our mind to what dispositions
soever we please. If we propose to ourselves a standard of
conduct, we can regulate our actions by it. I do not mean
to say that we can instantaneously form our temper and con-
duct according to a given model ; .but we can do so by de-
grees, particularly if the attempt be made in early years.
Practice is the parent of habit. We cannot all at once be-
come proficients in any bodily exercise or mechanical art
We cannot, on a sudden, give our mind the vigor requisite
in order to high intellectual attainments, nor at once make
ourselves masters of any particular science. But we can do
so gradually, by exertion and persevering diligence. In the
same way we can form our temper, discipline our affections
and passions, and learn to regulate our conduct. If, with
the proposed model always present to our imagination, we
employ the same vigilant attention and persevering industry,
we will be as successful in the one case as in the other. If
a whole community combine their efforts in the same way,
and emulously press towards the same point, the imitative pro-
pensities of our nature will greatly facilitate the process.
Nations are often distinguished by a peculiar character,
which may be owing, in some measure, to external circum-
stances, but which is formed chiefly by education, fashion,
and habit. A Turk and a Greek, born in the same climate,
and inhabiting the same country, are very unlike in charac-
180 MORAL EVIL. ^
ter. The Turk is grave and silent ; the Greek volatile and
talkative. Is not this difference entirely owing to education
and habit? What a diiference is there between the Ameri-
can Indian, chanting his death-song, and setting the cruelty
of his enemies at defiance, and Patkul* on the wheel ! Is
not the sensibility of the Indian as great, and .his sufferings
as acute, as those of any other person in similar circum-
stances? Education, sentiment, and habit, however, have
fortified his mind against the sense of pain and the fear of
death.
That there is some original and inexplicable difference of
constitution and temper, as well as of talents, among human
beings, may be admitted. But, generally speaking, what is
called natural temper is merely, I apprehend, a certain state
of mind which indulgence has formed into habit. If we have
a bad temper, it is because we have not been duly careful to
form a good one. If unworthy passions predominate in our
minds, it is because we have cherished them. If our conduct
be incorrect, it is because we are not attentive in regulating
it. When temper is very bad, all men condemn it. When
actions proceed to a certain degree of enormity, human laws
punish them. This condemnation and punishment show that,
according to the general conviction of mankind, the temper
might have been better, and the conduct refrained from ; for,
otherwise, neither blame nor punishment could with pro-
priety follow. It may be pleaded, perhaps, that the passions
gain strength sooner than reason, and that the character is,
in a great measure, formed before the understanding is suffi-
ciently matured to take any important part in the operation.
But if reason be cherished as much as passion, their growth
is more simultaneous than is commonly imagined. At any
rate, reason, on attaining maturity, can correct temper, sub-
due passion, and regulate conduct.
Socrates was the most illustrious moral sage of the ancient
heathen world. Zopyrus, an eminent physiognomist, on ex-
amining the countenance of the philosopher, pronounced him
the slave of vicious passions. The fiiends of Socrates ridi-
culed the pretended skill of Zopyrus ; but the son of Sophro-
niscus, with that candor and ingenuousness which formed
such a prominent feature in his character, acknowledged that,
in his early disposition, he was prone to vice; but that, by
obeying the dictates of reason with persevering attention and
exertion, he had overcome the worthless propensities which
A Livonian, broken on the wheel and quartered at Casimir, 1707, by th«
order of Charles XII. of Sweden.
MORAL EVIL. 181
had once predominated in his mind, and given a cast to the
lineaments of his countenance. Are we to neglect education,
to cherish a bad temper and unworthy affections, to contract
bad habits, and to persist in them, and then impute to our
Creator the blame of our own misconduct ? God has made
us free agents ; but at the same time he has endued us with
reason and conscience for the government of our hearts and
lives, so that the blame is entirely our own if we abandon the
path of rectitude.
Besides, our Creator does not permit us to disobey the voice
of reason and of conscience with impunity. His government
is so constituted that the abuse of free agency is checked, not
only by our moral nature, but by the natural evil which it in-
troduces or increases. The waters of the ocean, although
containing many corrupting substances, are preserved from
putrefaction. The contamination of the atmosphere, by res-
piration and other causes, is not allowed to go on continually
increasing : principles of counteraction and compensation
are in continual activity. As it is in the natural, so it is in
the moral world. The abuse of free agency is subject to
checks, and is not permitted to exceed certain limits. Our
moral faculties oppose its progress ; and, if this opposition be
borne down, an insuperable barrier at length presents itself
in the accumulation of natural evil. Thus, by the constitu-
tion of nature, moral evil, after proceeding to a certain extent,
is made, in some measure, to cure itself- When human af-
fairs reach a certain point of perturbation, then, like the in-
equalities in the planetary system, they gradually return to
the point from which they set off. They vibrate within cer-
tain limits. The accumulation of moral evil is wrought off
like a scum from fermenting liquors. In the natural world,
the tempest is a powerful means of purifying the atmosphere ;
an analogous scene presents itself to our view in the moral
world.
The sufferings which result from the abuse of free agency
are employed, by the wisdom and goodness of the Creator,
not only as means of correcting our errors, but also of exerci-
sing our virtues, strengthening our faculties, and improving
our nature. Suffering has a tendency to awaken our moral
sensibilities, and to make us reflect seriously on our actions.
If it be the means of bringing us to a due perception of our
folly and guilt, of reclaiming us from error, and of leading us
to a correct use of our freedom, we will again taste the sweets
of virtue, and rejoice under the administration of a wise and
benevolent Parent.
16
182 MORAL EVIL.
Suffering, in consequence of perverse affections and vicious
conduct, may be considered as the kind castigation of a wise
and affectionate father, to bring back his erring children to
the path of duty and of happiness. In this point of view, the
sufferings of moral agents are evidently consistent with the
perfections and government of an infinitely wise and good
Being. Indeed, in a great system of moral agency, the ab-
sence of suffering, except in cases where the agents have
passed victoriously through a state of trial, and, by means of
instruction, discipline, and practice, are confirmed in the
habits of virtue, would constitute a more formidable objection
against the perfections and government of God, than any that
the atheist has been able to adduce. The parent who never
chides or chastises, neglects the interest of his erring child ;
and were the universal Parent never to inflict chastisement
upon the disobedient, this would furnish a presumption that
he looked with an indifferent eye on the conduct of his ra-
tional offspring, and was careless about their moral improve-
ment. But he takes a lively interest in the welfare of his
children, and, by wise instruction and salutary discipline, re-
strains their wanderings, corrects their errors, encourages,
exercises, and improves their virtues, and prepares them for
a more exalted stage of existence ; for associating with the
numerous and chosen society of those who, having passed
triumphantly through a course of trial, are confirmed in vir-
tue, and far advanced in the perfection of their nature.
We often suffer from the abuse of free agency in others.
Discord in families ; jealousies, calumnies, envy, hatred,
and mutual injuries among neighbors ; and wars between
nations, occasion the greater part of human misery, and may
frequently involve us in trouble without any fault of our own.
In answer to this objection, we observe that the moral, as
well as the natural world, is governed by general laws ; and
free agency can be limited only by the nature and abilities
of the agents, subject to the counteraction of one another.
In a great scheme of free agency, as in our world, the agents
mutually operate upon, encourage and aid, or oppose, check,
and restrain each other. Restraints by special interpositions
of Deity are as inadmissible here as in the general laws of
the natural world, and would produce similar injurious ef-
fects. No restraints can be imposed upon the agents, but
such as arise from their physical and intellectual capacities,
and the circumstances in which they are placed. It is the
interest of all to regulate, direct, and keep within due bounds,
the free agency of all ; and to this common interest, in con-
MORAL EVIL. 183
neclion with our moral nature, the matter is left. I cannot
conceive ht>w it could be otherwise without the destruction
of free agency.
^' What, in the name of wonder," exclaims one, " can be
the final cause of cruelty, slaughter, and devastation ? Why
should we be both able and willing to pervert the benevolent
purposes of nature?" Might he not with equal propriety
have asked. What is the final cause of lying, slander, theft,
or any other action which proceeds from the abuse of free
agency ? Ought he not rather to have asked. What is the final
cause of our being made free agents, creatures endued with
freedom of will and liberty of choice, and not mere machines?
For this is the point on which his questions ultimately bear.
War, with its frightful concomitants, is a dreadful abuse of
free agency, and ought not to be held up as a stain on the
perfections or government of God, but as a melancholy in-
stance of human perversity. If many suffer by war, many
are guilty by aiding and abetting, or not opposing and coun-
teracting that profligacy by which it is begun and carried on.
Some, indeed, talk of wars as necessary, and seem to place
them by the side of the volcano and the hurricane. But it is
a monstrous absurdity to confound the guilt of the creature
with the wise and gracious appointments of the Creator.
Shall we vindicate murder by the plea that man is born to die,
or defend the conduct of the incendiary because lightning
sometimes sets our property on fire ?
If, under the operation of general laws, we suffer from the
abuse of free agency in others, without any fault of our own,
this suffering exercises and improves our faculties, and gives
scope for the development of virtuous dispositions and affec-
tions which otherwise would have lain dormant. If we meet
with no rude treatment, we have no occasion for meekness
and forbearance. Without injuries we have no room for the
exercise of forgiveness. The sufferings which we endure
from the misconduct of others, if we behave well under them,
do not rob us of the approbation of our own mind, and conse-
quently cannot deprive us of happiness. Our bearing them
well, and our passing through the uncertainties, dangers, and
trials of the present state with prudence and fortitude, are
means for training us up in a meetness for a more excellent
state of being.
Bad education, corrupt maxims, and vicious example, have
a powerful and unhappy influence on human opinions and
conduct. Bad government combines and aggravates all these
causes of wickedness and misery, and has certainly been an
184 NATURAL EVIL.
abundant source of tribulation among men. These are ad-
versaries with which we must strive in the moral course ; ene-
mies which we must combat and overcome in our moral
warfare. And in order to success in the race and in the
battle, it behoves us to use all the means in our power for the
illumination of our understandings and regulation of our
hearts ; to form correct notions of duty and happiness ; to
cherish virtue in our minds, and with inflexible constancy to
practise it in our lives.
The existence of moral evil forms no solid objection against
the divine wisdom and goodness. It is not so predominant
in the world as some gloomy theorists have represented ; and
with respect to that portion of it which really occurs, we can
vindicate the perfections of Deity from every imputation. We
are free agents — a condition necessary to moral government,
virtue and vice, reward and punishment. We are endued
with reason and conscience for the regulation of our conduct.
Our temper and character are of our own formation. Our
actions flow from our own free choice. If we follow a right
course, we enjoy much happiness. If we act otherwise, we
have ourselves to blame for the consequences ; nay, the suf-
fering which ensues is a kind warning that we have erred.
The evils which we suffer from the misconduct of others,
without any fault of our own, while they leave us in the full
possession of the approbation of our own mind, give room for
the improvement of our intellectual and moral nature. In the
moral as in the natural world, partial evil is made subservi-
ent to general good,
III. NATURAL EVIL.
Having considered moral evil, we shall now turn our atten-
tion to natural evil ; and shall arrange our thoughts on this
part of the subject under the following heads: —
1. The physical constitution of the earth, and the quality
of some of its productions.
2. The nature of some of the inferior animals.
3. The pains and sorrows to which man is unavoidably
exposed from his very constitution, and the circumstances in
which he is placed.
These topics open a large field, and will give room for a va-
riety of observations. But before entering upon these things,
we shall take notice of a principle of our nature, which has
been already briefly mentioned, but which deserves a more
particular attention; namely, its progressive capacity, to-
NATURAL EVIL. 185
gether with the means by which, according to the constitu-
tion of things, that capacity is operated upon and unfolded.
This seems to be a matter of considerable importance on the
subject under discussion ; and I shall, therefore, illustrate it
at some length.
Every creature must be finite, and what is finite is suscep-
tible of melioration. At what point soever in the scale of
intellect any created being appears, there is room for progres-
sive improvement. The being may advance from a lower to
a higher degree of excellence. A progressive is nobler than
a stationary creature. The latter, if any such exist in the
rational universe, whatever may be his place in the scale, may
ultimately be greatly surpassed by one who started from a
much lower point, but who is endued with a progressive na-
ture. The progressive principle pervades the system of the
world. The early dawn gradually ushers in the morning
light, which shines clearer and clearer till the meridian sun
beams upon the earth. The seed germinates, and, by a grad-
ual progress, the plant attains maturity. The noble oak
springs from the humble acorn ; but it must bear the chilling
blast of many a winter before it lifts its head with majestic
grandeur among the trees of the forest.
Animals of all kinds advance, some more rapidly, some
more slowly, towards the perfection of their nature. The
progress is still going on, although imperceptibly. The plant
or the animal grows ; but we cannot at any given moment
discern its growth, and point out the increase it has received
since the moment immediately preceding. This gradual and
imperceptible progress takes place not only in plants and ani-
mals, but also in the rational nature of man, the only intelli-
gence that falls under our observation. Every step in the
progress prepares the way for that which is to follow. We
have no reason to complain that we are children before we
are men, for the exercises of our boyish years are needful to
fit us for the duties of maturer life ; and we have good reason
to conclude, that the dispositions and habits formed and cher-
ished by the active and virtuous discharge of the duties of
the present life, educate and prepare us for entering into the
enjoyment of a higher state of existence.
Our being endued with a capacity of progressive improve-
ment is of itself a strong presumption of goodness in the Dei-
ty. If the means provided in nature for unfolding this ca-
pacity answer the end, God must be wise : in so far as we
have pleasure in the use of these means, it demonstrates that
he is benevolent. Now, we contend, that the means are ad-
16*
186 NATURAL EVIL.
equate to the end, and, generally speaking, we have pleasure
in the use of the means ; consequently God is both wise and
good. Even in those instances where we have no immediate
pleasure in the means, nay, even where they give us pain,
there is no proof of malevolence^ because even these painful
means are excitements to improvement and consequent hap-
piness. They are often occasioned by our having been care-
less of the means of improvement. The schoolboy may dis-
like the discipline by which he is urged to his task ; but if
the ambition of excellence does not spur him on, other incite-
ments must be applied. This, however, is no proof of ma-
levolence in the teacher. We are impelled to the means of
improvement by reward and punishment ; happy when we
use, unhappy when we neglect them.
The means provided in nature for the expansion of our ca-
pacities, both of body and mind, are adequate to the end.
Exercise is the chief means of our improvement. It braces
and invigorates the body ; it unfolds and strengthens the
powers of the mind ; and to exercise we are prompted both
by the constitution of our nature, and the circumstances in
which we are placed. Like Sisyphus, we must roll our stone ;
but we do not, like Sisyphus, roll it in vain. By every wise
and vigorous exertion we rise in excellence, and never lose
ground but by folly, carelessness, or sloth. Within certain
limits, the vigor of our faculties increases in proportion to
the employment which we give them.
Bodily exertion renders the whole frame active, robust, and
hardy ; and any particular member of the body, or organ of
sense, that is much employed, acquires a corresponding de-
gree of strength and dexterity in the peculiar manner of its
application. Those persons who bear on their backs the
produce of the Mexican mines exhibit a robust appearance.
The diminutive Bosjesman* bounds over the mountains with
the agility of a roe. The American savage discerns the foot-
steps of his friend or of his enemy, where a European eye
does not perceive any vestige. The mariner descries a ship
at sea, where a stranger to maritime life cannot behold a
speck in the distant horizon. The Bedouin Arab,t who,
after sweeping the view with his eye, alights from his horse,,
and applies his ear to the ground, listening for the tread of
the distant traveller of the desert, catches the sound which
entirely escapes one unpractised in his manner of life. A
* Rosjesmcn or Buslimen, a tribe of Hottentots.
i Bedouins or I'edoweens, a numerous Mohammedan race, in the deserts of
Arabia, E^ypl^ and Northern Africa.
NATURAL EVIL. 187
blind person has been seen to walk the streets of a town, and
turn every corner with the utmost precision ; and in some
blind persons, the sense of feeling has become so delicate
as to enable them to distinguish cloths of different colors,
and even in cloth of mixed colors to ascertain the particu-
lars. The senses of smell and taste are equally susceptible
of improvement.
Practice is the parent of dexterity in any manual operation,
as is evident in all the mechanical arts. It likewise improves
skill in the conduct of any difficult enterprise. An American
Indian will safely shoot a rapid in his canoe, or steer his frail
bark in the tempestuous ocean, where the most experienced
European seaman would perish. As the body is braced by
labor, the organs of sense meliorated by careful application,
and manual dexterity acquired by practice, so the mind is im-
proved and strengthened by the exercise of its faculties. In-
genuity is sharpened by the occasions which call it forth. By
being brought into action, our mental powers acquire an in-
crease of strength and modification of habit. Every faculty,
judgment, memory, or imn.gination, is improved, according to
the exercise which we give it. The tool with which I per-
form any manual labor wears away in the operation. The
axe and the saw become blunt ; and, by frequent attrition, the
substance of the ploughshare and of the spade is gradually
diminished; but the hand of the laborer hardens, and accom-
modates itself to his work, while his arm waxes stronger by
employment. The mind, if allowed to slumber in drowsy in-
dolence, becomes feeble and palsied; but call it into action,
and its dormant powers are awakened. When employed on
external objects, it operates beneficially on itself, for its ca-
pacities expand; and, like a plant under the genial influence
of the solar beam, all its powers are unfolded. Both body and
mind bear a resemblance to the magnet, which, by gradual
additions, may be made to bear a weight which, at first, it
was utterly incapable of supporting.
All our pleasures have a close connection with the exercise
of our bodily and mental powers; and one outward situation
is more favorable to happiness than another only in propor-
tion as it gives opportunities for a more varied and uncon-
strained exertion of them. The love of exercise plainly ap-
pears in the inferior animals. Lambs running and gambol-
ing round a hillock; horses scouring the plain; dogs keenly
pursuing each other ; and even the timid hares sporting to-
gether, are proofs that the felicity of the animated being does
not consist in motionless repose and inactive gratification.
18S NATURAL EVIL.
We see children actively employed in their amusements.
They delight in the exercise of their limbs ; and that exercise
preserves their health and promotes their growth. Happiness
is not found on a bed of down, nor in a state of listless sloth
and luxurious gratification. Cheerless languor, lingering dis-
ease, and early death, are the common lot of wealthy indo-
lence. But the person who labors diligently for his daily
bread, is in general healthy, cheerful, and contented.
It is a common law of our nature, that what costs little ex-
ertion imparts little pleasure ; what is obtained without labor
or expense is possessed without enjoyment. He who gains
a fortune by his own industry, feels a relish in the possession
of it, to which he who succee^'s to a similar fortune, without
industry, is a stranger. Indeed, there is often more pleasure
in pursuit than in possession, in hope than in enjoyment, in
labor than in reward. Many things are valued chiefly on
account of the pleasure which the pursuit affords. Game is
hunted not so much for its intrinsic worth as for the gratifi-
cation of the chase.
The mind of man has no pleasure in unvarying rest. Its
enjoyment springs from action. Hence men in every rank,
and in every stage of society, devise employment for them-
selves, if it be not imposed upon them by necessity. The
South Sea islander exercises and amuses himself by sporting
among the breakers like a walrus. The North American In-
dians, in the vicinity of the Athapuscow and Slave lakes,
instead of enjoying all that rest and ease of which their cir-
cumstances admit, court exercise and employment at the ex-
pense of severe privation and great danger. They can easily
find a plentiful subsistence for their families during winter,
by catching deer in a pound ; but only the aged and infirm,
the women and children, and a few of the more indolent and
unambitious, will submit to remain in the parts where food
and clothing can be so easily procured. To this they prefer
the uncertainty, fatigue, privations, and dangers of the chase,
and of a wandering life. " In my opinion," says the hardy
traveller who states the fact, '' there cannot exist a stronger
proof that man was not created to enjoy happiness in this
world, than the conduct of those miserable beings who inhab-
it this wretched part of it." Here we have an example of the
incorrect thinking not unfrequently entertained by persons
whose lives are more devoted to action than contemplation ;
for the opinion rests on the supposition, that happiness con-
sists in undisturbed repose, and in the enjoyment of unso-
licited abundance. But in a state of unvarying ease and spon-
NATURAL EVIL. 189
taneous plenty it does not consist ; it is in earnest pursuit
and vigorous exertion that the energies of the hanian being
are unfolded ; and in them is his happiness obtained. The
hunter is pursuing and enjoying pleasure amidst the fatigues
of the chase and the perils of the wilderness.
In civilized society, the opulent, who are under no ne-
cessity of earning their means of subsistence by daily ex-
ertion, find employment for themselves by engiging in
hunting, or in other similar occupations. The mm of sci-
ence and liberal curiosity renounces literary ease and domes-
tic comfort, traverses the globe, mingles with savage tribes,
ascends the Alps or the Andes, encounters the cold and
storms of polar regions, or visits the crater of JStna or Hecla.
Our most exalted pleasures flow from successful exertions of
intellect. What sensual gratification deserves, for a moment,
to be compared with the joy of Pythagoras, on discovering
that the square of the hypothenuse is equal to the squares of
the other two sides of the right-angled triangle ?— with the
transport of Archimedes, when he sprung out of the bath,
exclaiming, " I have found it ! " on discovering a method
by which he could ascertain the quantity of silver which a
goldsmith had put into Hiero's crown? or with the ecstasy of
Franklin, when he perceived the fibres of the cord attached
to his kite exhibiting signs of electricity ? These are the
most sublime enjoyments of which man, in his present state,
is susceptible ; and all these advantages, which we gain by
skill, industry, and virtue, give us high pleasure on reflection.
Thus exercise is the chief means of our improvement and
happiness; and to exercise we are impelled, not only by the
constitution of our nature, but also by the circumstances in
which we are placed. Our constitution and circumstances
are as much adapted to each other as the wing of the bird
and the atmosphere ; the gills of the fish and water. Here
we have a striking instance of that relation of one thing to
another which pervades the universe, and which demonstrates
unity of plan and skilful contrivance in its formation.
Had we been set down in a situation where every want
was at once supplied, every wish and desire gratified without
difficulty or delay, and where there was no room for ingenious
contrivance and active exertion, we should have been the
miserable victims of languor and satiety. Without something
to awaken fear, encourage hope, and stimulate activity, life
stagnates in stupid torpitude and melancholy indolence.
But nature around us is admirably fitted to rouse activity,
encourage ingenuity, and reward industrious exertion. Eve-
190 NATURAL EVIL.
ry thing conspires to animate our diligence, to improve our
talents, and to promote our happiness. The earth is wisely
accommodated to our active and intelligent nature, for its
bowels as well as its surface administer to our comfort ; and
every part of nature around us may be made to increase
and diversify our enjoyments, according to our circumstances
and tastes.
There is no danger that the means of employing either our
bodily or intellectual powers will ever be exhausted. To cul-
tivate the earth, drain the marsh, straighten the water-course,
and embank the river; to form roads and bridges, and to
carry on the various branches of manufacture and commerce,
will still furnish abundant scope for human industry. There
will also be an ample field for the operations of intellect in
the progress of science ; for although our present attainments
are great, yet the next generation will find enough to exer-
cise their ingenuity. Every step we advance in knowledge
enlarges our views, and opens new subjects of investigation
and discovery. It is like travelling in a winding and inter-
minable valley, bounded on each side by woods and mountains.
At each bend, where we expected to find its termination, we
perceive that the scene is only varied, and new prospects dis-
closed to our view. Notwithstanding all the industry, skill,
and discoveries of Davy, there still remains abundance of
room for laborers in the same field ; to trace matter to its
elementary forms, and through its various combinations.
Newton improved on the discoveries of Kepler* and Galileo.t
La Place has executed what Newton left undone ; but there
is still room for adding to the sublime discoveries of La
Grange I and La Place. The intellectual hero will never
need to sit down and weep because he has conquered the
world of science, and exhausted the mines of discovery. To
a person of determined and persevering industry, to whom
* A German astronomer of hig^h celebrity, the friend and companion of Tycho
Brahe, and liiglily commended by Des Cartes, Newton, and others. He was the
first who proved tiiat the orbits of the planets are elliptical, instead of spherical,
as was then believed ; and that, in their motions, they describe equal areas in
equal times, and that the squares of their periodical limes are equal to the cubes
of their distances. Yet he held to strange absurdities ; among others, that the
earth has a sympathy with the heavens, and that the globe is a hu^'e animal,
which exhales the winds through the crevices of the mountains, as through its
mouth and nostrils ! He died at Ralisbon, IGSO, set. 57.
t A celebrated astronomer and mathematician of Florence. He first discov-
ered mountains in the moon, four of Jupiter's satellites, and the Medicean stars.
He invented tlie cycloid, and observed the increasing velocity of the descent of
bodies. He suffered greatly from the inquisition, and died 1G42, set. 78.
X A mathematician of Turin. To him we are indebted for many impor-
tant discoveries respecting the motion of fluids, and the theory of vibrations.
He died, 1813, at Paris, aet. 77.
NATURAL EVIL. 101
no labor is irksome, and no difficulty appears insurmountable ;
to him no enterprise is too great, and no attainment hopeless ;
no department in science, and no discovery in nature, is
above his reach.
We may further remark, that employment is an advantage
to our moral as well as to out intellectual nature. It is a
powerful preventive of temptation ; for he who has nothing
to do has much need to be confirmed in virtue. Such, then,
is our active nature, and such the circumstances in which we
are placed. In so far as these circumstances are fitted to
exercise and develop our powers, they may fairly be adduced
as evidences of wisdom ; and if we have enjoyment in the
exercises to which our nature and circumstances prompt us,
the Author of the system must be benevolent.
I now proceed to the consideration of natural evil, under
the several heads already mentioned, namely, the physical
constitution of the earth ; the nature of some of the inferior
animals ; and the pains and sorrows to which man is liable.
1. The physical constitution of the earth.
Some have objected to the general appearance of the earth,
representing it as a shapeless mass, without order or beauty ;
inundated by the ocean, disfigured by ragged promontories
and irregular indentations ; the dry land deformed by moun-
tains and morasses; occupied by lakes or deserts ; yielding
poisonous plants and minerals ; in one quarter parched by
the beams of a vertical sun, and in another bound up in
chains of everlasting ice. Such representations, at first sight,
have an imposing appearance, and, when expressed in pomp-
ous language, may please the ear, and have no small tenden-
cy to mislead the imagination. But, on a closer inspection,
those apparently mighty difficulties in a great measure disap-
pear ; and the due consideration of them teaches us a lesson
of caution and humility when examining the works of the
Almighty. It teaches us not to be hasty in supposing that
improvement would follow a change in any of the great con-
ditions of nature ; for such a change, it is likely, instead of
improving the world, would break the harmony of its parts,
and destroy the symmetry and use of the whole.
That the earth bears marks of having undergone some
great convulsion, is not denied; but we do not admit that
from this any inference can be drawn against the perfections
or government of Deity ; for the earth, as it presently ap-
pears, is a convenient habitation for man and for the inferior
animals. These animals all find subsistence. With respect
to man, every thing around him is fitted for supplying his
192 NATURAL EVIL.
wants, and for promoting his enjoyments, by calling forth his
activity and by giving scope to his exertions. Every thing is
adapted to his physical and intellectual constitution, and is
suited to preserve his health, to brace his body, and to invig-
orate his mind.
The great extent of the ocean, in the estimation of some
persons, is a mark of imperfection. And on this subject let
us listen to the complaints of the atheist, and call in his wis-
dom to remedy the evil. Let us empower him to dry up the
waters, and to reveal the deep channels of the ocean; yea, if
he will, to elevate the bottom of the sea to a level with the
adjacent land, and to give the earth the exact convexity of
an artificial globe. He has remedied what he thought a de-
fect ; he has introduced beauty where, in his imagination,
deformity prevailed. What is the effect of his supposed im-
provement? By one great operation he has destroyed a vast
number and variety of sentient beings, which dwelt in the
ocean and enjoyed happiness. He has also laid the sure
foundation for the speedy extinction of animal and vegetable
existence ; for if there be no ocean, the sun will exhale no
vapors ; no clouds will float on the atmosphere, and neither
dew nor rain will descend on the earth. But if there be no
dew and no rain, where shall we find the aliment of vegeta-
tion ; the murmuring brook and the majestic river? Experi-
ence teaches us that without springs and rivers there is no
fertility ; and, consequently, without them man and beast
must expire, and lifeless stillness and sterility take possession
of the vast desert. Such are the effects of atheistical wisdom
and improvement. Before any complain of the extent of the
ocean on the terraqueous globe, let them show that a less sur-
face of water would equally well answer all the purposes
served by the sea. This, we may without hesitation affirm,
they can never do. We may, therefore, dismiss their com-
plaints on this subject, as the offspring of ignorance and folly.
The ocean is a vast field of enjoyment to sentient beings,
and it yields inexhaustible treasures to the human race. If
we look to the two extremities of the American continent,
we see, at the one, the wandering savage of Terra del Fuego
devouring fish; and, at the other, the Esquimaux spearing
salmon in the Copper Mine River. Although many of the
human race draw a considerable portion of their subsistence
from the deep, yet this great storehouse has, perhaps, never
hitherto been turned to the best account by civilized nations.
The sea also facilitates the intercourse of nations, and har-
monizes with the whole system of nature, in presenting a
NATURAL EVIL. 193
scene fitted to awaken the energy, and to give employment
to the activity and enterprise of man.
The ocean is preserved at a moderate temperature by the
statical principle by which the heavier columns of a fluid dis-
place the lighter; and, consequently, it tends to modify the
temperature of the land. For the temperature of the ocean
communicates itself to the superincumbent atmosphere on
every side ; and, in this way, the sea cools the land in tropical
climates, and increases the temperature in high latitudes.
How refreshing is the sea breeze to one panting under a ver-
tical sun ! And do not the insular inhabitants of high lati-
tudes enjoy in winter a milder atmosphere than they who
dwell on great continents under the same parallel 1
Humboldt has observed that the interior provinces of
America, between 30° and 38° north latitude, like the rest
of North America, have a climate essentially different from
that of the same parallels on the old continent. A remarka-
ble inequality prevails between the temperature of the differ-
ent seasons. German winters succeed to Neapolitan and
Sicilian summers. This is, no doubt, partly owing to the
configuration of the land and the course of the mountains;
but a grand cause of it seems to be the breadth of the conti-
nent, and its prolongation towards the north pole i for great
and unbroken continents are favorable to the extremes of
heat or cold, because the surface of the land is heated or
cooled sooner than the water. This principle may be appli-
ed in explanation of the fact that, in proceeding eastward
from the shores of the Atlantic, through Europe and the
north of Asia, the temperature- of any parallel of latitude still
becomes lower as we advance. The ocean, then, is a great
source of animal enjoyment. It is of essential importance
to our world ; and we have no reason to conclude that a less
basin of water would answer all the purposes in the economy
of nature. The deep indentations of bays and gulfs are
highly useful for commercial purposes ; and they also con-
tribute to supply the wants of man, by bringing the stores of
the sea into the bosom of the land.
Some complain that the surface of the earth is broken
down into many inequalities, rugged mountains, deep valleys,
and morasses. But this constitution of things, instead of
being a just ground of complaint, serves many valuable pur-
poses. It gives the productions of different climates under
the same latitude ; furnishes a residence and food for differ-
ent kinds of animated beings, is a powerful means of cloth-
in(T the earth with beauty and fertility ; and gives scope to
17
194 NATURAL EVIL.
the ingenuity and exertions of man. In ascending the
Andes, for instance, at different points above the level of the
sea, we meet with the productions of equatorial and polar
regions, and of all the intermediate climates. In Mexico,
the same parallel of latitude produces the banana, the apple,
the sugar-cane, wheat, the manioc, and potato. There the
nutritive gramina, which vegetate among the ices of Norway
and Siberia, cover the fields of the torrid zone. There the
oak grows only at an elevation above the level of the sea of
between 2500 and 10,000 feet : the pine never descends far-
ther down towards the coast of Vera Cruz than to about 6000
feet above the level of the sea, and is never found higher in
the mountains than about 13,000 feet. The wheat of Eu-
rope occupies a belt on the declivities of those mountains,
between about 4500 and 10,000 of elevation ; the banana-
tree, the fruit of which constitutes so much of the food of the
inhabitants of many tropical regions, scarcely bears any fruit
at a higher elevation than 5000 feet above the level of the
sea. Some plants live only in cold and mountainous places;
and it were vain to look for them but in regions bordering on
everlasting snow.
Although many mountains do not rise to the height of
those now referred to, yet, in their several degrees, they
yield nourishment to a proportional diversity of plants. If
it be alleged that this can hold true of mountains in tropical
or temperate regions only, it may be remarked that the height
of mountains diminishes as we advance from the equator
towards the pole. Chimborazo, at the equator, is about
20,000 feet high : the mountains of Iceland, on the confines
of the Arctic circle, are not above a fourth or fifth part of
that height.
The variety of mountains and valleys furnishes different
kinds of animals with a residence and food suited to their
natures. The ox delights in the plain, as there he finds the
food which to him is most palatable. Sheep prefer the
naked hill, because their he\ovGd fcstiic a grows there. Goats
climb the precipice to browse on tender shrubs ; and, by
their agility and the structure of their feet, they are well
qualified for springing from crag to crag. The argali, or wild
sheep, and some of the deer kind, give the preference to the
bare mountain. In warm climates, high mountains, by means
of the ice and snow with which they are perpetually clothed,
lower the temperature of the neighboring plains. The tower-
ing Andes cool the contiguous countries, and the mountains
of Thibet render the spreading plains of Hindostan habita-
NATURAL EVIL. 195
ble.* Mountains also modify and direct the course of the
winds, and shelter the low lands from the blast. To moun-
tains the plain is indebted for its beauty and fertility. They
attract the clouds, condense the vapors, are the sources of
streams and rivers, and convey a fructifying moisture to the
valley and the plain.
Ray,t in his valuable work on " the Wisdom of God in
Creation," distinctly states the fact, that more water is ex-
haled from the sea in vapor than is returned to it in rain;
but for the fact he is at a loss to account. " Why," says he,
'' should not the winds carry the vapors that are exhaled out
of the earth, down to the sea, as well as bring them up upon
the earth which are raised from the sea ? Or, which is all
one, why should not the wdnd blow indifferently from sea
and land? To which I answer, that I must needs acknowl-
edge myself not to comprehend the reason hereof" In ex-
planation of the fact, for w^hich this well-informed WTiter did
not attempt to account, we may observe, first, that the sur-
face of the land is more easily heated than the sea, conse-
quently the w ind blows from the sea towards the land to re-
store the equilibrium, and carries the vapors along with it :
secondly, mountains attract the clouds, stop them in their
course, and make them pour down their contents on the
earth. These two observations go far to explain the fact that
more rain falls on the dry land than is exhaled from it; and
they tend to show the utility of mountains.
If we trace the course of any great river, it conducts us
to mountains. The Orinoco and the De la Plata lead us to
the Andes. The Mississippi and the St. Lawrence have their
sources in an elevated region ; and a mountainous ridge sep-
arates the basin of the Columbia from the waters of the Mis-
souri. The Alps send forth the Danube and the Rhine, the
Rhone and the Po. The vapors exhaled from the Mediter-
ranean pass over Egypt almost without dispensing a single
shower ; but the lofty mountains in Abyssinia arrest them
in their course, and rob them of their treasures. The Nile,
spreading fertility over its banks, conveys the swelling waters
to the Mediterranean. Thus the mountains of Abyssinia,
lying in about 12° N. latitude, are the means of clothing the
* Under the equator, tbe reg-ion of perpetual snow commences at an eleva-
tion of 15,750 feet : in 45° N. lat. it commences at 8350 fef t.
t Ray, or Wray, an eminent English naturalist, fellow of Trinity Colleg'e,
Cambridge. He "devoted himself to botany and the universal history of nature.
He was characterized by a strong benevolence of heart, humility of mind, and
modesty of manners. His works are very voluminous, and the one referred
to in the text particularly valuable.
196 NATURAL EVIL,
Thebais and Delta, from 24<^ to 31°, with beauty and abun-
dance. Without the mountains of Abyssinia the valley of
Egypt would remain an arid and inhospitable desert. We
might run over the globe, and every where we would find
mountains of essential benefit to the earth. While they at-
tract the clouds, their structure is such as to retain much of
their water, and to give it out in perennial streams.
Mountains contain iron, copper, lead, and many other min-
eral substances of indispensable utility to agriculture and
the arts ; and although to some they may appear marks of
irregularity and deformity, they are nevertheless the perfec-
tion of order, and essential to the beauty and fertility of the
earth. Without them we can have no magnificent or pleas-
ing scenery. They aiford a commodious residence or a safe
retreat to many of the inferior animals, and they diversity,
adorn, and enrich the prospect to man. While so extensively
beneficial, they do not so much afi'ect the sphericity of the
earth, as a few grains of sand, scattered on the surface of an
eighteen inch globe, affect its sphericity. For the diameter
of the earth is nearly 8000 miles ; and the top even of Chim-
borazo, the loftiest peak on our globe, is only about four miles
above the level of the sea.*
As mountains contribute to the beauty and fertility of the
earth, so to drain the morass, and convert the quaggy swamp
into a beautiful and. fertile field, exercises the ingenuity and
employs the activity of man. The mountain is essential to
our subsistence ; the marsh contributes to the development
of our powers. The materials of subsistence and comfort are
spread plentifully around us ; but they do not drop into the
lap of drowsy indolence and lumpish inactivity. In order to
obtain them, we must exert our powers both of body and
mind. We must cultivate the earth, cut down the forest,
drain the bog, straighten the water-course, and apply proper
manuie to the soil. By the diligent and skilful exertion of
our powers and application of our means, we can produce
mighty changes on every thing around us, and make the
influence of our operations be felt even on those j>arts of
nature which, at first sight, seem entirely above our reach.
We can in some measure disarm the elements of their rigor,
and improve the climate as well as the soil by cultivation ;
by draining marshes and lessening evaporation, which carries
off a quantity of caloric, and occasions a corresponding de-
* The Himalaj'a mountains liave been estimated at ?ibout 27,000 feet j but
their height is not yet well ascertained.
NATURAL EVIL. 197
gree of cold ; by turning up the soil and exposing it to the
rays of the sun ; and by thinning and cutting down forests,
which by their shade exclude the solar beam from the earth.
The barrenness of many parts of the earth has been the
theme of discontented declamation, and has been plausibly
urged as an objection against the wisdom and goodness of
Deity : like other objections, however, it is deceitful, and
more showy than solid. Men have agreed to give the char-
acter of fertility to the soils which are favorable to the pro-
duction of a few kinds of farinaceous grains, and to pronounce
others barren and unfruitful. But many seeds, plants, and
herbs, require a peculiar soil and climate to bring them to matu-
rity, and the soil to which the character of fertility has been
attached answers for a few only. The fact has been known
since the days of Theophrastus, and is mentioned in the
pleasing verse of Virgil. The willow thrives in a moist soil ;
the alder, in marshes ; the wild ash, on the rocky mountain ;
the vine, on the open hill ; the yew, in a moist and elevated
situation. When mahogany grows in a barren soil, the grain
of the wood is beautifully variegated ; on rich soil, it is pale,
open, and of little value. The cinnamon-tree thrives amidst
arid sands. There are plants suited to every soil. Even the
trunks of trees and stones are covered with various kinds of
liverwort.
Grasses are the most useful, and also the most common, of
all vegetables. They clothe the mountain and adorn the
plain ; they vegetate luxuriantly within the tropics, and in
the summer months beautify and enrich the polar regions.
The cereal grasses yield a rich nutriment to man ; and many
grasses, which every where cover the earth with spontaneous
verdure, afford a suitable provision to the brute creation.
Those grasses, herbs, and shrubs, which are rejected by one
class of animals, are greedily eaten by another. As there is
a vast variety of plants, many of which require both a pecu-
liar climate and soil to bring them to perfection, so the wise
and gracious Creator has provided a suitable climate and soil
for plants of every kind. Animals have different tastes ; and
their diffusion over the earth is promoted by these tastes, as
well as by a corresponding variety of plants. And certainly
it is a matter of no small moment, that the climate which
suits the constitution of the animal, also produces the food
which to it is most palatable.
Even supposing any spot so barren and miserable as to af-
ford neither subsistence nor shelter to any sentient being, this
would furnish no other argument against the perfections of
17*
19S NATURAL EVIL.
Deity than what would arise from a diminution of the surface
of the earth. It would be merely so much of the globe with-
drawn from the immediate use and service of living crea-
tures. But we have no evidence that any part of the earth
is so withdrawn. The poles are encompassed with a great
barrier of ice : as far, however, as man has been able to pen-
etrate towards them, the water abounds with inhabitants,
some of which occasionally repair to the ice. In Nova Zem-
bla there is no human habitation ; but there foxes and bears
find a place of residence and a scene of enjoyment. The
ostrich delights in the burning sandy wilderness.
From the nature of the soil and the inconstancy of the ele-
ments, the crops at times may be deficient ; but, in every case
of famine, there is either a neglect or misapplication of our
means, and of our physical and intellectual powers, or an
abuse somewhere of free agency ; for, with diligence and
precaution, even the chill Icelander may always secure the
means of subsistence either from his native soil and circum-
ambient seas, or by commercial intercourse with foreign
lands. And even within the tropics, and in the most fertile
regions, when industry lifts a palsied hand and cultivation is
neglected, scarcity and famine are not unknown. When the
distant supplies which prudence and industry have provided
are intercepted by hostile violence, there is an abuse of free
agency ; and, in a system carried on by the operation of gen-
eral laws, this abuse at times may be severely felt even by
the harmless and unoffending.
Some have complained of poisonous herbs and minerals.
Poison, however, is merely a relative term. No plant, I be-
lieve, is absolutely destructive of animal life. Those vege-
tables which are disagreeable or poisonous to one class of
living creatures, are grateful and nourishing to another. The
horse gives up the common water hemlock to the goat ; the
goat leaves monkshood to the horse. Even wormwood and
the acrid spurge yield an agreeable repast to some kinds of
insects. The inferior animals are guarded against danger
from what they eat by an instinctive delicacy of smell and
taste. Man, at least after he has acquired an artificial taste
by means of cookery, must exercise vigilance and sagacity ;
although his smell and taste, unless greatly perverted, will
seldom or never mislead him. Even from those vegetables
which are most destructive of human life, we can extract a
salutary nutriment or a healing virtue.
Some plants we can disarm of their poisonous qualities,
and convert into materials of wholesome aliment. The bit-
NATURAL EVIL. 199
ter jatropha is an active poison. The natives of Haiti, who
preferred death to involuntary labor, killed themselves by
fifties with swallowing the raw juice of the plant. But even
the juice of the bitter jatropha is rendered harmless by boiling
and skimming, and is then used without danger as a sauce.
The root is also baked into bread ; but, in order to deprive it
of its noxious qualities, it must be grated down and com-
pressed. The empyreumatic oil of tobacco is an active poi-
son. But tobacco in a variety of ways is advantageously
used. It is even employed as a remedy against other poi-
sons. " The Caraibs," * says Humboldt,t " used mashed
tobacco leaves as a counter poison. In our journey on the
Orinoco, we saw mashed tobacco successfully applied to the
bite of venomous serpents." Foxglove, hemlock, poppy,
and other similar plants, have each medicinal virtues.
We may remark, that different parts of the same plant, in
many instances, have different qualities ; and the same may
be said of plants in their different stages. Different plants
elaborate different juices from the same soil ; and differ-
ent animals elaborate different substances from the same
plant. Bees form honey from thyme and roses ; and from
the same plant spiders draw a poison. From vegetables, in-
nocuous and agreeable, a deleterious substance may be ex-
tracted. The laurel is pleasing, the almond beautiful and
nutritive ; but the laurel and the bitter almond yield most
powerful poisons.
Minerals do not constitute any part of human food, but
they are of vast importance in the arts ; and their value in
the arts not unfrequently depends on those very qualities
which render them destructive when taken into the stomach.
Only a few are poisonous ; and most, or all, even of these,
are serviceable in medicine. Arsenic itself is employed with
advantage in the healing art. In short, the constitution of
the vegetable and mineral kingdoms, like every thing else in
the world, is adapted to the rational, active, and progressive
nature of man. The existence of poisonous substances serves
to awaken his vigilance, and exercise his sagacity ; and we
may safely conclude, that there are neither plants nor mine-
rals but what have been, or may be, turned to his advantage.
The discovery of their qualities and uses exercises his inge-
A tribe of the aborigines of some of the Caribbee Islands — a ferocious and
invincible race.
t A scientific and adventurous traveller. The Voyage of Humboldt and
Bonpland, published in 1810 (12 vols. 4to.), is a work of great extent and rich-
ness, to which the modern literature of Europe cjui hardly offer a parallel.
200 NATURAL EVIL.
nuity ; the application of them administers to his comfort,
and diversifies his enjoyments. The discoveries which may
yet be nrrade in the progress of science, and the consequent
advantages, we are unable to anticipate.
On the surface of the earth there are very different climates;
and if it could be demonstrated that this could originate in
nothing but a defect of power, wisdom, or goodness, then we
would be compelled to admit that such defect adhered to the
Author of the system ; for difference of climate is part of the
plan in the constitution of our globe. Towards the equator
the heat is always considerable, except at great heights above
the level of the sea : as we approach the poles, generally
speaking, the cold increases. The climate of a country,
however, does not depend altogether on its latitude, but also
on its elevation above the level of the sea, its contiguity to
the ocean, the configuration of the land, and a number of
other local circumstances. The temperature of the earth va-
ries from about 100° to — 40° Fahrenheit : the mean temper-
ature for the whole surface may be estimated at 5S° : the
greatest summer heat is only about 42° above this : the
greatest winter cold is about 9S° under it. The temperature
of man is about 96°, and is nearly the same in summer and
winter, in an inhabitant of the torrid, and in one of the frigid
zone. The temperature of the human body is much above
that of the surrounding medium.
In the different climates there is no defect either of wisdom
or goodness : they exhibit a display of those attributes by
opening a field of enjoyment to a greater variety of sentient
beings. Both in the sea and on the dry land there are ani-
mals peculiar to certain climates. Some fishes are found
chiefly within the tropics; others have their residence in po-
lar regions. A similar economy prevails on the dry land.
Many animals, such as the monkey and the elephant, are na-
tives of warm climates, and there they find that sort of pro-
vision for which they have the greatest relish : others, such
as the rein-deer, delight in high latitudes ; and there they
find the food which to them is most palatable.
While many of the inferior animals are fitted, by their pe-
culiar constitution, for living comfortably in one climate only,
man is endowed with a flexibility of organization which ena-
bles him to bear the temperature of every country. He can
accommodate his dress to the climate, and can live, perhaps
with equal degrees of happiness, in every parallel of latitude
between Cape Horn and Greenland. Every where his intel-
lectual and moral nature is equally susceptible of improve-
NATURAL EVIL. 201
ment. The Icelander, touching the Arctic circle, is as in-
telligent, virtuous, and happy, as the native of any country
between the tropics.
Man is so constituted, that habit produces great effects
both on his body and mind ; fortifying the one against fatigue
and privations, the rigor of the seasons, and the most rapid
transitions from one degree of temperature to another ; and
not only reconciling the other to various modes of life, but
even rendering these agreeable and pleasant. The Finlander
amuses himself, for half an hour or an hour, in a bath heated
to 150° or 160° P^'ahr. ; and frequently goes naked out of the
bath to roll himself among the snow, when the mercury
stands at 20° below the freezing point. From this great and
sudden transition he receives no injury. It has been found
that persons accustomed to attend an oven, have borne for
ten minutes a heat equal to 280° Fahr. In common cases,
suffocation begins to takes place in about half a minute after
the body is submersed in water ; but the divers in the pearl
fishery can remain under water five minutes, almost as long
as the seal, porpoise, and amphibia. The dexterity of the
South Sea Islanders in swimming is well known.
We are apt to set up our adventitious tastes and habits,
sentiments and employments, as the standard of excellence
and measure of comfort, and to imagine that those things
only, which are sources of enjoyment to us, can yield satis-
faction and happiness to others ; and that what is disagree-
able or painful tons, must be equally so to all our fellow men.
The native of a tropical country may imagine that the inhab-
itants of polar regions are a torpid, hungry, and miserable
race ; but they who dwell in high latitudes are not less ac-
tive, cheerful, or vigorous, than they who bask in the rays
of a vertical sun. The delicate European may shudder on
seeing the Esquimaux or Kamtschadale feasting on putrid
fish and rancid oil ; but the Esquimaux or Kamtschadale
would spit out with disgust the choicest viands of the Euro-
pean epicure. A Laplander can form no conception of the
wealth of a man who does not possess a single rein-deer ;
and pities him who never feasts on the flesh of the bear, nor
drinks the oil of the seal or the whale. A Turk imagines
that the enjoyment of a man who does not smoke cannot be
greater than that of a beast. A man in clothes appears as
ridiculous to an Indian of California, as a monkey dressed in
human apparel does to the common people of Europe.
Notwithstanding all the differences of climate, almost ev«
ery individual, from habit and sentiment, is disposed to give
202 NATURAL EVIL.
a preference to his native land. The Greenlander will not
abandon his icj' coasts, and the management of his frail ka-
jak, for any other country or employment. To the Icelander
no other epot on the globe has such charms as Iceland. The
Kamtschadale in his jourt, surrounded by deserts and tem-
pests, believes his native land to be the most eligible part of
the earth, and considers himself the most fortunate and happy
of human beings. The Laplander, in the midst of mountains
and storms, enjoys good health, often reaches old age, and
would not exchange Lapland for the palace of a king. The
native of Congo believes that every other part of the world
was formed by angels ; but that the kingdom of Congo was
the workmanship of the Supreme Architect, and must there-
fore have prerogatives and advantages above the rest of the
earth. Although every other tie were broken, the dust of
their fathers would bind most men to their native land. Let
not the cold skeptic deride the thought. The native of Asia
frequenting the tomb of his ancestors, or the afflicted wan-
derer of the American wilderness piously pulling the grass
from the grave of a departed relative, will awaken sympa-
thetic emotions in every ingenuous and affectionate mind.
In the attachment to country we have an auxiliary to our
social affections, and a bond for uniting men in large com-
munities. But the attachment is not so strong as entirely to
prevent dispersion, or hinder migration to unsettled countries
by an oppressed or overflowing population. As men, gen-
erally in every climate, are pleased with their country, and
love it above every other, so in every stage of society they
give the preference to those modes of life to which they have
been accustomed. Hence changes and improvements in the
economy and intercourse of any people are the result of a slow
and gradual progress. Although men may be well pleased
with their several circumstances, yet we must never forget
that the most exalted enjoyment of the rational being flows
from the acquisition of knowledge and the practice of virtue.
It thus appears, that we need not be forward in affecting to
commiserate the destiny of those who are placed in circum-
stances different from our own. Their habits and sentiments
are accommodated to their condition, and they would not ex-
change situations with us. As to climate, we are by no means
to imagine that tropical countries are perpetually scorched by
an unclouded sun ; or that the inhabitants of the polar circle,
in winter, are buried in total darkness. Captain Cook informs
us, that in general the tropical regions seldom enjoy that clear
atmosphere observable where variable winds blow, nor does
NATURAL EVIL. 203
the sun shine with such brightness. A dull whiteness, that
seems a medium between fog and clouds, for the most part,
prevails in the sky. This is an advantage ; for otherwise,
the probability is, that the rays of the sun being uninterrupted
would render the heat insupportable. The nights, neverthe-
less, are often clear and serene.
On the other hand, in high latitudes, although the sun be
withdrawn, yet the inhabitants are not enveloped in com-
plete darkness. At Spitzbergen, a sort of twilight, the splen-
dor of the Aurora Borealis, the stars, and the reflection of the
snow, serve to light the hunters on their excursions, and ena-
ble them to continue the chase during the long night of a
hyperborean winter. Hearne tells us, that in the vicinity of
the Athapuscow lake, in the middle of December, the bril-
liancy of the Aurora Borealis and the stars, even without the
assistance of the moon, made it frequently so clear all night,
that he could see to read a very small print. The Indians
make no difference between night and day when hunting the
beaver. It may be added, that the annual distribution of heat
over the surface of the earth is by no means so unequal as
many persons are apt to imagine. The seasons give occasion
to different employments, according to the climate and the
nature of the country ; they also relieve insipid uniformity,
and give variety to the appearances of the world, and to the
pursuits of man.
Thus, from the physical constitution of the globe, its water
and dry land, its mountains and valleys, its different soils and
different climates, there is no argument against the perfec-
tions of Deity ; for on the greater part of the earth man can
subsist, and that with equal degrees of happmess. Where
man does not or cannot subsist, other sentient beings find a
place of residence, and a scene of enjoyment suited to their
natures. No part of it is void of animal existence. If there
be any argument, drawn from any part of the earth, against
the divine attributes, it must equally apply to every part ; and,
if it be admitted that any part of it exhibits indications of
wisdom and goodness, the admission must be extended to the
whole. The earth is truly a convenient and pleasant habita-
tion for man and other living creatures, and bears abundant
testimony to the wisdom and goodness of the Creator.
It may be pleaded, that mankind at times are afflicted by
ungenial seasons, scanty crops, and consequent famine ; and
that earthquakes, hurricanes, and inundations, overthrow the
works, disappoint the hopes, and destroy the enjoyments or
the life of man. That, to a certain extent, these things occa-
S04 NATURAL EVIL.
sionally happen, must be admitted ; that they constitute a diffi-
culty, and may be alleged as an objection against the attri-
butes of Deity, need not be denied. But here, as in other in-
stances of the same kind, the difficulty arises entirely from
our ignorance ; and in proportion as knowledge increases, the
difficulty will disappear. I meet the objection with these ob-
servations— that the w^orld is governed by general laws ; and
that this constitution of things is adapted to the nature and
condition of man, as an intelligent and active being, in a state
of trial and discipline, whose capacities must be unfolded,
and his virtues improved by trial and exercise.
All the phenomena prove that the world is governed by
general laws. Although these laws be wise and good, yet
they may sometimes interfere, and by their interference pro-
duce partial evils. For example, the laws of gravitation, of
the equilibrium of fluids, and of the disturbance of that equi-
librium by heat, are formed and arranged by wisdom and
goodness ; but in the administration of these laws, such a
concurrence of circumstances may sometimes happen as to
produce partial evils. High winds arising from the disturb-
ance of the equilibrium of the aerial fluid by heat, may co-
operate with the action of the sun and moon, and occasion
remarkably high tides. The combinations of the same gen-
eral laws may produce tempestuous commotions in the at-
mosphere, causing partial evils. There is reason, however, to
believe that even these tempestuous commotions are subservi-
ent to general good. The storm that commixes the atmosphere
and the ocean is, probably, one grand means of purifying the
air contaminated by respiration, vegetation and combustion.
The effect of general laws may be partial evil ; but it unques-
tionably is general good. There are no general laws, either
in the natural or moral world, that are more injurious than
advantageous.
It may be said, Why is not the good produced without the
evil ? Why are not the general laws so constituted, as to
yield all the advantages which we derive from them without
any of the disadvantages? Or, if they cannot be so consti-
tuted, why are not the disadvantages prevented by special in-
terpositions? That the world should be governed by general
laws is not only proper, but indispensably requisite, in order
to the regulation of human conduct. If there were no general
laws, man would be the sport of irregular occurrences, and
wholly at a loss how to act. He would be suddenly defeated
in all his undertakings, and reason would be of no avail for
the direction of his sleps. If the sun rose and set at irregu-
NAI^URAL EVIL. 205
rat and uncertain periods ; if the return of the seasons were at
variable and unknown intervals; if the tides followed no reg-
ular course, man would be obliged to act at random, and would
be tossed to and fro by circumstances which he could neither
foresee nor prevent. But general laws every where obtain ;
and man can observe them, and act accordingly. They serve
as beacons for the direction of his course, and he can use
them almost every moment in the voyage of life. Whether
general laws could be so framed as to produce all the good
effects which we derive from them, without any of the evils,
we know not, nor is it needful to institute any inquiry on the
subject ; for although it were possible that they could be so
constituted, yet such a constitution would be improper; and
it would be equally improper to prevent the partial evils by
special interpositions.
If man were exposed to no danger; if at all times he w^ere
secure from want, and disappointment, and pain, he would be
a careless, lazy, stupid, and unhappy animal. Place the hu-
man being, constituted as he is, in a situation where exertion
"would be either useless or needless, where the difficulties
were insuperable, or where every object of desire spontane-
ously flowed in upon him, and he would be miserable. If the
course of things were invariably accommodated to our wants
and desires ; if, either by general laws or special interpo-
sitions, every evil were infallibly prevented and every good
thing secured, then prudence and industry would be alto-
gether useless. There would be no room for human skill,
and no motive to human action. There could be no display
of skill where every object of desire was certainly obtained
without it ; and no motive to action where nothing could be
gained by foresight and industry, and nothing lost by inat-
tention and sloth.
A state where dangers are to be provided against and
averted by foresight, caution, and vigilance; where wants
are to be supplied by industry and prudence ; enjoyments
procured by diligence and ingenuity ; difficulties encountered,
and trials borne, with courage, fortitude, and patience ; where
there is still something to excite desire, cherish hope, and
stimulate and reward exertion ; such a state accords with the
constitution of the human being, and is calculated both for his
improvement and happiness. Such is the state of this world ;
fitted to rouse our energies, to animate our activity, and to
reward persevering industry. Whenever, to any individual,
the world ceases to be such a state, life stagnates, enjoyment
flies away, and the consciousness of existence becomes a bur-
18
206 NATURAL EVIL.
den. Now, tempests and floods, and other partial evils re-
sulting from the operation of general laws, are means of exer-
cising and improving our faculties, of giving scope to pru-
dence, fortitude, and activity, and thus promoting our happi-
ness. Besides being suited to our rational and active nature,
there is reason to believe that those phenomena which occa-
sion partial evils are productive of great general benefit in
the economy of the world. But here our ignorance inter-
venes, and in a great measure prevents us from tracing the
steps of the Creator in his government.
2. The nature of some of the inferior animals.
It is not against the inanimate parts of the world only that
the objections of the skeptic have been directed : different
departments of animated nature have furnished him with
materials of querimonious declamation. " AVhy are we in-
fested with such multitudes of ferocious and venomous ani-
mals, which endanger the safety, and often destroy the life of
man ? Why does the earth abound with useless and noxious
creatures ; with myriads of insects, which frequently coun-
teract our labors, destroy the fruit of our industry, torment
our persons, and devour the means of our subsistence?"
With respect to declamation of this kind, it may be observed,
that nothing is more common than to take certain principles
for granted, and to reason from those gratuitous assumptions
as if they were incontrovertible truths, although not a word
has been said in proof of them. If any phenomena do not
obviously and exactly agree with those assumed principles
and preconceived notions, the persons who have embraced
them murmur and complain, as if disorder reigned in the uni-
verse, and as if the vestiges of goodness were buried under
the rubbish of irregularity and imperfection.
Some persons, resembling the Ouadelim Arabs, who fancy
that the sun rises for them only, have ambitiously assumed
that not this earth merely, but all the splendid luminaries of
the firmament also, were formed solely for the accommoda-
tion and comfort of man. On this proud assumption they
may wonder why there is such a vast apparatus of planets
and fixed stars, which by their feeble light impart such incon-
siderable advantages to the earth. But the moment that we
think of numerous orders of intelligent beings stationed in the
different provinces of the universe, and inhabiting worlds
suited to their different organizations and faculties, the mis-
conception and the difficulty pass away. Others, more mod-
est in their pretensions, claim for man this lower world
only, with the common advantages of the system. This
NATURAL EVIL 207
claim they seem to advance for him exclusively, and to sup-
pose that the world should furnish a scene of enjoyment to
him alone, while no other creature should partake of the rich
feast provided by the bountiful Creator, but in subserviency
to man's pleasure and gratification. This assumption is
equally gratuitous and false with the former, although not to
the same extent. Man, indeed, is the noblest inhabitant of
this world, and has dominion over the inferior animals : but
to them as well as to him the Creator has given a charter to
inhabit the earth, and there to enjoy a scene of happiness
suited to their natures. In some instances, it may be from
invading those parts of the globe which the sovereign Distrib-
utor of the earth has allotted to them as their domain, that
man exposes himself to their vengeance.
The relations and dependencies of the different orders of
sentient beings we at present do not fully comprehend. Per-
haps a certain concatenation runs through the whole extent
of animated nature, the lowest order of sentient creatures be-
ing closely connected with inorganic or vegetable matter,
and, in the ascending series, every order joined to that which
is immediately above it, till the highest is linked to the throne
of the Creator ; or some gradation and concatenation of this
kind may obtain among the innumerable worlds stationed in
the immensity of space. Such speculations are above our
reach. We do not understand all the relations and depen-
dencies of animated nature even in our own world. If one
class of sentient beings, which we think the most useless or
noxious, were removed, this would perhaps pave the way for
the destruction of a second ; the destruction of the second
might ensure the extinction of a third ; so that we are unable
to calculate what might be the consequences of withdrawing
any one species of living creatures from the face of the earth.
The Creator may surely, in a consistency with wisdom
and goodness, make provision in the same world for different
orders of sentient beings. And, if he do so, he may, like-
wise, in a consistency with the same perfections, place in that
world the several orders of beings for whom he has made
provision, if the happiness of one order do not interfere with
that of another, or if the interference, like general laws, pro-
duce general good, and only partial evil. If this principle be
admitted, which I think it may, it will go far to vindicate the
ways of God with respect to the sentient inhabitants of this
globe. If the earth were overrun with rattlesnakes ; if lions
and tigers lay in ambush in every thicket ; this would cer-
tainly be too much for the precaution, the vigilance, and the
^8 NATURAL EViL*
activity of man. It would overpower instead of exercising
his faculties ; it would destroy his happiness, instead of pro-
moting his improvement. But ferocious and venomous ani-
mals are thinly scattered over the globe. Elephants and
buffaloes feed in great herds ; but lions and tigers, like rob-
bers, are few in number, and lead a solitary life. There are
multitudes of the serpent kind, but only a few are venomous.
Their fangs are excretory ducts connected with the poison-
bag ; and the very action of the jaws which inflicts the
wound mechanically injects the poison into it. These few
are a protection to all the serpent kind. [PL XIV. fig. 4, 5.]
The Creator has implanted in every living creature the
desire of self-preservation, and has also bestowed upon each
of them some means of security and defence in aid of this
desire. The defensive weapons of some animals are far more
formidable than those of others. The fang of the serpent
and the tooth and paw of the lion are instruments of defence
or offence, like the horn of the bull or the hoof of the horse :
they are more terrible toothers, but they are beneficial to the
animals themselves. Instruments of defence are as needful
to the animal as means of procuring food. Indeed, these
often run into each other : in many instances the same or-
ganization is employed for both purposes. If any instrument
of defence be unobjectionable; if we admit the tooth of the
dog and the hoof of the horse to be consistent with wisdom
and goodness, then our objections against the paw of the lion
and the fang of the viper can be of no great weight. In both
we find weapons of defence ; there is merely a difference in
the degree of force. If, in the one case, the weapon is more
formidable, it is a more sure protection to the animal, and
a motive to greater caution in awakening its anger. The
venomous tribes serve to arouse the vigilance and exercise
the ingenuity of man in avoiding their bite, or in expelling or
neutralizing their poison. In this way they contribute to the
development of our powers, by presenting difliculties and
dangers which are not overwhelming, but which serve to
awaken activity and quicken ingenuity.
Man must be careful, vigilant, and active in cultivating the
earth, in clearing it of weeds, and in superintending the
growth of his crops. He must exercise a similar care, vigi-
lance, and activity, in avoiding the tooth of the serpent and
the paw of the lion. These and similar animals are, for the
most part, natives of climates where nature dispenses her
treasures with rich profusion ; and therefore, if the faculties
of man be not expanded in soliciting the earth for subsistence,
NATURAL EVIL 209
they find a certain degree of exercise in watching and pro-
viding against surrounding dangers. Besides, venomous and
ferocious animals, which are comparatively few in number,
teach us duly to value the inoffensive kinds. It is by con-
trast chiefly that we learn the worth of our enjoyments. If
the stream of felicity flowed without mixture and without in-
terruption, it would cloy the appetite. Some bitter ingre-
dient must be cast into our cup to make us relish what is
sweet. We are more sensible of the beauties of a fine day
after experiencing a tempest. The barren wilderness illus-
trates the value of the fertile field ; and, in like manner, the
ferocity of the tiger may teach us duly to estimate the meek-
ness of the lamb ; and the envenomed tooth of the cohra ca-
pella, to value the innocuous qualities of the frog.
It has been remarked, that throughout nature things which
have a relation to each other for the advantage of man are
found together. Thus, mines of gold and silver abound in
South America ; and mercury, which is used in separating
these metals from their ores, is also found there. Coal,
which is so useful in smelting iron ore, is found along with
it. Compensations, in like manner, accompany what is nox-
ious. Travellers often fall ill of nervous fevers on the road
between Caraccas and Cumana ; but the valley and forests
that emit the dangerous exhalations which occasion these
fevers, also produce a tree, the bark of which furnishes a
salutary remedy for the disease. Where there are many
venomous reptiles, there the herbs which are the most certain
antidote to their poison are found in the greatest plenty. If
dangerous serpents abound in intratropical America, there
the hahilla de Carthagena grows, by eating a little of which,
fasting, the hunters in their excursions in the woods fortify
themselves against the bite of the rattlesnake itself.*
* Ulloa, Voyag-e Historique, &c., liv. i. c. 6, & liv. vi. c. 10.— The habilla
de Carthagena is a sort of bean which grows on a kind of willow. It is about
an inch broad, nine lines long-, flat, and heart-shaped. It is of an extremely
hot nature, and an ordinary dose is less than the fourth part of a bean or kernel.
For an account of the rattlesnake herb, by which the natives of Louisiana heal
the bite of that snake, see Le Page de Pratz, History of Louisiana, vol. ii. pp.
43—73, English translation.— Ca/-i-er'5 Travels, p. 482.
Horses, cows, dogs, and fowls, seem to have an innate sense of their danger
from snakes, and show evident symptoms of fear in approaching- them, even
when dead ; but hogs, so far from being afraid of them, pursue and devour them
with the greatest avidity, totally regardless of their bites. — Carver's Travels, p.
483. WelcVs Travels, vol. i. pp. 202-3. Hesychius of Miletus informs us
that Neptune employed storks to exterminate serpents from the island of Tine,
in the Grecian Archipelago. — Tournefort, Voyage, tom. i. p. 258. Virg. ^n.
x'l. 751. Juvenal, xiv. 74". Hor. Car. lib. iv. "Od. iv. 1. 11. Iliad, xii. 201.
Captain Seely, in his '' Wonders of EUora," p. 452, second edition, speaks
18*
210
NATURAL EVIL
To some persons, those animals which in general estima-*
tion have a most disgusting appearance furnish an agreeable
article of food. Depons* informs us that, on the banks of the
Lake Tacarigua, in South America, the Indians and some
of the Spaniards make their most delicious meal on the
iguana, a kind of lizard of a greenish color, and about two
feet and a half long. This to persons unaccustomed to it
would form a most loathsome dish. Dr. Shawt was told,
that in Cairo and in its vicinity upwards of forty thousand per-
sons lived on lizards and serpents only. The savage devours
with avidity the vermin that prey upon him. In some coun-
tries, frogs are esteemed a delicate dish. Locusts at times
sweep the face of a country like a conflagration. No green
thing escapes their devouring tooth, and ruin marks their
progress. But, besides furnishing a rich feast to the locust-
bird, starlings, sparrows, and swallows, their myriads yield a
nutritious repast to the Arab ; and thus in some measure
compensate the desolation which they have occasioned.
The bee may sting ; but it furnishes us with honey and
wax. Some insects toil diligently in our service ; and others,
which at first sight seem useless or loathsome, may be ap-
plied to beneficial purposes. The silk-worm provides for us
the materials of a fine attire. The cochineal imparts a beau-
tiful color to our raiment. Leeches, cantharides, and other
inferior animals, can be made to contribute to the preserva-
tion of our health, or the removal of our diseases. Many
small animals may, no doubt, be applied to valuable purposes
with which we are yet unacquainted. Here, as in other de-
partments of nature, there is room for patient observation and
careful experiment ; for the exercise of ingenuity and the
progress of discovery. We may never, perhaps, find out all
the uses of every species of insects ; but even at present we
know enough to justify the ways of God to man.
Thus, when we survey the inferior animals, we perceive
that their vast number and variety exJiibit a brilliant display
of the mon^na, a little animal of tlie ferret kind, which eagerly fights larg-e
snakes, provided a particular grass g-row near. If bitten, it eats a quantity of
this g-rass, vomits, rolls itself on the ground, and again engages in the combat 3
but it will by no means act offensively if this particular grass be not at hand.
For mongos, sec also Edinburgh Cahhtet I^ibrary, vol. viii. p. 36.
* An agent of the French government at Caraccas, and author of a " Voy-
a"-e to liie Eastern Part of Terra Firma, or the Spanish Main, in S. A., in
lOoi — 1804'' (translated, 180fi, New York).
t A celebrated traveller, educated at Oxford, and for several years chaplain
to the English factory of Algiers. While there, he made various excursions to
examine the curiosities and antiquities of the country. His Travels contain an
interesting and accurate account of Barbary and the Levant, and particularly
of Egypt. He died at Oxford, 1751, a-t. 59.
NATURAL EVIL. 211
of the perfections of Deity. Wisdom and goodness are man-
ifested in the bodily organization and instinctive propensities
of every species, as well as in the provision made for supply-
ing their wants. When viewed in reference to man, they
harmonize with other parts of the scene in which he is placed,
serving to awaken his vigilance and activity, to exercise his
ingenuity, to aid him in his labors, to supply his wants, and
to diversify his enjoyments.
Why, it may be inquired, do living creatures prey upon
one another ? Why do not all animated beings on earth live
together in harmony, and with mutual affection partake of
the common bounty of the Creator ? That animals prey on
each other cannot be denied. Their doing so is agreeable to
the constitution of nature ; for the bodily conformation of
some of them furnishes unequivocal evidence that they were
designed to wage war against others ; and fact corresponds
with the indication. A scene of hostility pervades the ocean,
and prevails to a considerable extent on dry land. Among
the inhabitants of the waters, the strongest, with a few excep-
tions, prey voraciously upon the weaker. Flight and pursuit,
escaping from one and devouring another, constitute their
employment. On land, the lion and tiger encounter each
other; both of these prey upon other quadrupeds, and attack
even man himself Man also is a carnivorous animal.
The hostility that prevails among sentient beings exhibits
a strange scene, and seems, at first sight, to militate against
the attribute of goodness, in the Author of the system. But
when we reflect that this scene in a great measure iands
alone, and is every where surrounded by plain indications of
benignity, we must feel ourselves constrained to pause before
we come to any conclusion unfavorable to the perfections of
Deity. Although we could give no explanation whatever of
this phenomenon, yet in the midst of so many proofs of good-
ness, it would rather become us humbly to acknowledge our
ignorance, than to impeach the attributes of the Author of all
our mercies. Puzzling as the fact under consideration may
appear, we need not abandon it in despair, as incapable of
explanation. The following observations may satisfy us that
it is not incompatible with that wisdom and goodness which
are so obvious in the general constitution of the world.
Fb'st, Immortality upon this earth, as. Dr. Paley has justly
observed, is out of the question. On the supposition of im-
mortality here, it is obvious that the process of propagation
must soon terminate. The world would soon be replete
with inhabitants ; there would be no room for more, and a
8i^ NATURAL EVIL.
^reat source of animal happiness would be dried up. The
term of life assigned to different animals can form no objec-
tion ; for if we object to the short term of a day, we may ob-
ject, on the same principle, to a hundred years, or to any other
limited period ; and still ask, Why was not the term of life
longer ? The consonancy of death with wisdom and good-
ness must be admitted ; and the term of life assigned to any
animal cannot fairly be urged as an objection. The whole
question then is reduced to this point — the manner in which
the sentence of death is carried into execution. This can be
only by the decays of nature, by disease, or by violence.
When the animal dies by violence, I apprehend that, gener-
ally speaking, it suffers much less pain, than when it dies by
the decays of nature, or by the operation of disease. The
pain may be more intense, but it is of much shorter duration.
Harsh seems the ordinance, that life by life
Should be sustained; and yet, when all must die,
And be like water spilt upon the ground,
Which none can gather up, — the speediest fate,
Though violent and terrible, is best.*
Man, under the decays of nature or the pressure of disease,
has commonly some tender friend to sympathize with him,
and to assist him. When he is destitute of this sympathy
and assistance, we deem his condition the most deplorable to
which a human being can be exposed. Who, without feeling
his heart melt within him, can think of the aged or sick In-
dian in the wilds of Canada, unable any longer to travel with
his band, covered over in the depth of winter with a few
bushes, and left alone to perish with cold, and hunger, and
disease? But the beast, not under the immediate protection
of man, that dies by disease or old age, is in a state resem-
bling that of the Indian. A violent death abridges instead
of increasing suffering.
Secondly, The present constitution of things does not di-
minish the happiness of the inferior animals during life ; they
are afflicted by no painful anticipations. Attack and defence,
flight and pursuit, exercise their activity, and seem to consti-
tute no small part of their enjoyments. The ocean is a great
scene of hostility ; and so far as we are able to judge of its in-
habitants, their pleasure is not small. It seems in no degree
lessened by the perpetual war that is going on. On the dry
land, the dangers to which animals are liable do not deprive
them of the happiness of which their natures are suscepti-
* Montgomery.
NATURAL EVIL, 213
ble. It is only in the moment of actual suffering from
violence that the present constitution of things gives the ani-
mal any pain.
Thirdhj, While the present constitution of things does not
appear to subtract from the happiness of sentient beings du-
ring life, and while it abridges the pains of death, it is the
means of providing subsistence for a greater number and va-
riety of animals than could have otherwise existed in the
world, and thus increases the general sum of happiness. If
all animals had been herbivorous only, it is obvious that the
same number and variety of them could not have subsisted in
the same place, as may do so according to the present con-
stitution. But, within certain limits, which have never yet
been exceeded, the more numerous animals are, the greater
is the sum total of happiness on earth. I have already had
occasion to observe, that the fecundity of the several tribes of
animals is well suited to their several terms of life, and to the
dangers and waste to which they are exposed. Not one spe-
cies perishes by the voracity of others. The predaceous
kinds are not nearly so numerous as those of a more mild and
inoffensive nature ; there are thousands of sheep for one tiger ;
innumerable larks for one eagle.
The fecundity of animals enables us to regulate the num-
bers of any kind, according to our wants or our pleasure. It
is also the means of filling up the blank where man does not
dwell. Such is the constitution of nature, that if we turn
up the soil in any spot, it will ere long be clothed with ver-
dure, although we sow nothing there. Seeds will find their
way to the place. In like manner, although man retire from
any part of the earth, it will not remain an untenanted wil-
derness. Some of the inferior tribes will take possession of
it. It will still be a scene of life and of enjoyment. If man
return, he can make the inferior animals of every kmd retire
before him, contribute to his subsistence, or aid him in his
labors.
The depredations of animals, then, upon each other, is only
an apparent, not a real evil : it forms no solid objection
against the goodness of Deity, for it does not appear to di-
minish the happiness of any animal during life. It abridges
suffering at death, and furnishes subsistence to a greater
number of animals than could otherwise live on the earth.
Moreover, the inferior animals have no moral nature to be
depraved by the system of depredation, or to be improved by
the sufferings preceding death in the slow decays of nature,
or in the progress of disease. Man may act towards them in
214 NATURAL EVIL.
such a way as to deprave his moral faculties : wanton cruelty
will harden his heart. But if he make only a legitimate use
of his dominion, he may avail himself of them, either to assist
him in his labors, or to supply his wants, without any per-
version or debasement of his nature.
3. The pains and sorrows to which man is exposed from
his constitution, and the circumstances in which he is placed.
We may here take notice of an objection on which some
persons seem to lay considerable stress. They complain that
the progress of population always presses upon or outstrips
the means of subsistence, and that the consequent unavoida-
ble misery is an evidence that the Author of Nature is care-
less about human happiness. This constitution, however, is
in exact accordance with the other parts of the system, and
produces most beneficial effects : it calls forth exertion,
sharpens ingenuity, prompts to the appropriation and culture
of the soil, and to the arts and improvements which enrich
and adorn society ; it spreads mankind over the different
parts of the globe, and conducts the genial stream of knowl-
edge and civilization to every country. The band of wan-
dering savages subsists by gathering the spontaneous pro-
ductions of the earth, and by hunting and fishing. When
their numbers multiply, they seek an addition to their preca-
rious maintenance by a partial cultivation of the ground.
The principle of multiplication, acting as a propelling power,
presses them forward in the career of agricultural improve-
ment. Arts are invented, commerce is undertaken, the va-
riety of roots, fruits, and grains, is accommodated to a growing
community.
When, by a skilful agriculture, and a judicious adjustment
of crops, the soil is made to produce the greatest possible
quantity of human food, then cultivation has attained perfec-
tion. In no country, however, has agriculture hitherto reach-
ed this point ; for in many parts even of China, of the great
population of which so much has been said, the cultivation of
the earth is in a very imperfect state. Unoccupied or thinly
inhabited regions are open to receive an overflowing or dis-
contented and restless population, just as some part of our
native country commonly receives us when we quit the pa-
ternal roof which sheltered our infant and youthful years.
These emigrants carry along with them part of the manners
and attainments of their native land, and diffuse knowledge
and civilization more widely over the earth. In this way in-
dustry is kept in constant activity, and mankind are gradual-
ly improved. But while the principle of population is of such
NATURAL EVIL. 215
vast and beneficial importance in the course of human affairs,
it is not to be forgotten that the passions and appetites ought
to be under the guidance of reason ; and that marriage ought
not to be entered into without foresight and a due considera-
tion of circumstances. In densely-peopled countries, pruden-
tial restraints operate as a silent, but powerful check on the
increase of the species. Instead, however, of dwelling on
this subject, we shall pass on to other topics.
From the constitution of our nature, and the circumstances
in which we are placed, we are unavoidably exposed to oc-
casional pain, grief, and disease; and we must at last die.
Pain, grief, and disease are sometimes entirely owing to the
abuse of free agency ; and sometimes they are greatly in-
creased by it. In so far as they flow from this source, we
have ourselves to blame ; and this part of the subject has
been considered in a preceding section. At present, it is
only that portion of pain and grief to which we are unavoida-
bly exposed by the constitution of our nature and the circum-
stances in which we are placed that claims our attention.
This, comparatively speaking, forms but a small portion
of human suffering. If from the sum total we subtract the
product of imprudence, folly, and vice, we will leave but a
small remainder behind ; and with respect to this remainder,
it is the result of wise general laws, and is productive of
good effects.
Our body is a material fabric, and must be subject to those
general laws by which matter is governed. General laws,
as we have already seen, are highly advantageous. Without
them we would be altogether at a loss how to act. They are
beacons for the regulation of our conduct. Yet from their
operation partial evils may arise. The law of gravitation is
good ; but a stone may f\ill, and hurt or kill a man ; or a man
may fall and be hurt or killed. But why were we made sus-
ceptible of pain? To this it may be replied, that we cannot
easily conceive a material being susceptible of pleasure, and
not also susceptible of pain. Certain it is that pain is often
the means of giving a higher relish to pleasure, while its re-
moval is a source of sweet enjoyment. It is even productive
of good effects in the measure in which we are exposed to it ;
for who would wish to be deprived of that sensibility which
is the occasion of pain 1 We may even go farther, and assert
that it proves benevolent intention ; for it is never inflicted on
us merely for its own sake, but is a sentinel to watch over
our preservation and our happiness.
What has been said of pain may be applied in some meas-
2l6 NATURAL EVIL.
«ure to grief. Some sorrows are counterbalanced by concom-
itant pleasures. " The joy of grief," at first sight, may seem
a solecism in language; but the propriety and beauty of the
expression are recognized by those who have attended to the
operations of their own minds. I pass over the griefs which
arise from false estimates, lofty pretensions, violent passions,
and the whims of a sickly and perverted imagination. They
•are the creatures of our own folly, and can never with justice
be set down in the account against our Creator. The mor-
tifications, the griefs, and the suiferings from political insti-
tutions of society, fall under free agency. If men chose,
those things might be otherwise. If the institutions are real-
ly best for all, there is no reason to complain of them. If
they be the means of sacrificing the happiness of the many to
the interests or caprice of the few, this is an abuse of free
agency, and falls under the observations made in a for-
mer section.
Similar remarks may be applied to bodily disease. Where
there is no neglect or perversion of our means, no abuse of
free agency, disease does not often occur. It is a common
and a true observation, that exercise and temperance are the
best physicians. Most persons find occasion for the first of
these in the course of their lawful avocations : it is our own
fault if we neglect the last. By industry we are able, gene-
rally speaking, to procure the means of satisfying the desires
of nature : to pamper luxury is injurious to health ; for if one
die of hunger, or of disease induced by too spare a diet, ten
hasten their dissolution by repletion and surfeiting. When
we consider the complicated mechanism of the human body,
and the variety of circumstances in which we may be placed
without injury, we are justified in saying that health is not
easily impaired. It often remains uninjured, or is but little
aflfected, although the body be in very different states and
circumstances.
The decays of old age, or long-continued disease, recon-
cile us to dissolution. The love of life, in general, is suffi-
ciently strong to induce us to use every means in our power
for its preservation, and to submit to all our trials rather than
resign it. Still the mind, as well as the body, is gradually
prepared for a change. Death has a formidable aspect to a
person in health ; but to one who has passed through the grad-
ually-declining stages of old age, or of lingering sickness, it
has lost much of its terror. Every step prepares for that
which is to follow. Death is the lot of humanity, and the
time when we shall undergo that change is uncertain. This
NATURAL EVILv 217
Uticertainty is a wise appointment. It preserves the spur to
caution and activity, neither checking the spirit of enterprise
by the prospect of impending dissohition, nor yet encouraging
temerity, presumption, or procrastination, by the certainty of
a prolongation of life.
This world is not a place for our everlasting residence.
Here we cannot reach the perfections of our nature; and if
we could, this earth would be found- an unsuitable habitation.
It would present too many causes of irritation, and would
not afford adequate sources of enjoyment. It is fitted mere-
ly for the introductory stage of our progressive being. It is
admirably adapted to our intellectual and moral improvement
in that stage ; and we are called off before the scene becomes
unmeet for us. The generations of the human race pass away
in succession to another state of existence, and this succes-
sion seems accommodated to the greatest sum total of hap-
piness on earth. The young have the keenest relish for tjie
world and its enjoyments. True, indeed, the evening of a
good man's days is by no means comfortless; but his chief
happiness arises from the retrospect of a well-spent life, and
the anticipation of a nobler state of being. In this world, we
pass through a course of education for a better.
Is it objected that many of the human race make little or
no improvement, either intellectual or moral? If they neglect
their talents and opportunities, the blame is their own ; and
iheir misconduct can form no objection against the Author of
their existence and Fountain of their mercies. Do you com-
plain that you are cut off in the midst of your days ? Your
constitution is not indestructible, and in certain circumstances,
you expose yourself to disease, which, operating according
to general laws, may terminate fatally. In this, however,
there is no chance, for chance is introduced only when knowl-
edge ends; it is merely the operation of general laws to
which we may not have duly attended. Many children die.
But that so many infants die, is owing, in no small degree,
to carelessness and mismanagement. In some foundling
hospitals, scarcely any survive. In healthy situations, with
healthy and attentive parents, few die. If children were not
liable to death, parents would be utterly careless ; but by the
existing constitution of things, the carelessness of parents is
punished by the wounds which the death of children inflicts on
parental affection. As to the future state of children, we need
have no difficulty in confiding it to that great and gracious
Being who gives such innumerable instances of goodness in
every department of nature around us.
19
218 NATURAL EVIL.
Men are placed in very different circumstances in the world,
and exposed to a variety of vicissitudes. But difference of
external circumstances seems to occasion no diminution of
happiness. The laborer who earns his daily bread by the
sweat of his brow, is as healthy and as happy as he who
wears a crown. The one is insensible to what we consider the
hardships of his condition, the other is familiar with what
we think his enjoyments ; and in point of happiness, habit
and sentiment have set them nearly on a level. That con-
stitution of things by which trials overtake us, is adapted to
the state of discipline in which we are placed, and aids con-
science in indicating the path of duty, by checking our aber-
rations, curbing our passions, and producing salutary effects
both on our intellectual and moral nature.
Without trial and suffering, both in ourselves and others,
some of our best affections would lie dormant, and some of
the noblest energies of our nature have no room for action.
Where can courage, and fortitude, and patience, be acquired
and displayed, but in the face of difficulties, and under the
pressure of affliction 1 The skilful and intrepid mariner does
not acquire his knowledge, dexterity, and courage, on the
bosom of the sleeping lake. He must encounter the hard-
ships and perils of the tempest. The hardy and fearless war-
rior is not trained in the calm, sequestered vale of pastoral
life : he must mingle in the fitigue, noise, and carnage of
martial achievements. In like manner, the candidate for
moral and intellectual excellence must not slumber away life
on a bed of down : he must submit to laborious exertion and
severe trial. How is a compassionate sympathy excited, ex-
cept by scenes of sorrow and suffering ? Hence the Hebrew
sage, who was no inattentive observer of the moral tenden-
cies of our nature, says, " It is better to go to the house of
mourning than go to the house of feasting ; for by the sad-
ness of the countenance the heart is made better." Our suf-
ferings and sorrows, even when they produce no salutary ef-
fect on ourselves, may prove beneficial to others. Prosperity
and adversity are different modes of education and trial, and
our limited knowledge does not enable us to say which of
them, in any given case, requires the steadiest exercise of
virtue, or is the most efficacions means of improvement. In
a higher stage of existence, there may be no need for courage,
fortitude, patience, and pity ; because there danger and suf-
fering may be unknown. But there may be need for the
temper formed by those virtues.
We have seen that the terraqueous globe is admirably fitted
NATURAL EVIL. 219
up as a place of residence for sentient beings ; and a grada-
tion of sentient beings is consistent with the wisdom and
goodness of Deity. To deny this were, in effect, to deny
that any creature could exist in a consistency with the divine
perfections. If we declare it to be incompatible with wis-
dom and goodness to form creatures in any one point of the
scale, we may, with equal propriety, make a similar declara-
tion with respect to any other point. The earth is replen-
ished with a great variety of animals, and it is fitted for being
a scene of enjoyment to every species. Many of the kinds
prey upon others ; but this constitution impairs the happiness
of none : it is the means of supporting a greater number than
could otherwise have found subsistence, and consequently
increases the sum of enjoyment. Man is the noblest inhab-
itant of the earth, and has dominion over the inferior creatures.
He is a rational being, a free agent, the subject of moral
government. He may abuse his liberty, and subject himself
to a corresponding punishment. But this punishment re-
sults from his own perversity, and cannot be pleaded as an
objection against the wisdom and goodness of God ; for the
agent might have acted otherwise, and not only avoided the
punishment, but enjoyed reward. Moral evil, therefore, and
all its consequences, must at once be laid out of the question,
when estimating the perfections of Deity by his works and
government.
The inferior animals are guided by instinct, and their na-
ture is stationary. Man, however, is not only a rational but
a progressive being ; and he is endued with a restless activity.
Here he is placed in a school, not seated at a banquet; and
both his improvement and happiness are promoted by exer-
tion. Every thing around us is fitted to our constitution, to
stimulate activity, to encourage hope, to reward industry.
Nature does not spontaneously supply our wants and gratify
our desires ; but she yields to our ingenuity and diligence.
A succession of wants and desires prompts to a repetition of
exertions, and promotes progressive improvement. Difficul-
ties occur ; but they are not insuperable : they awaken our
energies and exercise our talents. The prize is within our
reach ; but we must run vigorously in order to obtain it.
The victory may be acquired ; but we must combat valiantly
in order to remain masters of the field. Of this constitution
of things men may complain ; they may complain that we
must run to obtain the prize, that the crown is not set upon
our head till we are qualified to wear it. This, however, is
the only constitution of things suited to our nature. If we
220 NATURAL EVIL.
were placed in a scene where every want was easily and in-
stantaneously supplied, and every wish at once gratified with-
out contrivance or exertion ; where there was no room for
hope or fear, for ingenuity or activity, for the operation of the
affections of the heart or the powers of the understanding, we
would be torpid creatures, overwhelmed with melancholy lan-
guor, and scarcely able to support the burden of life. But
the vicissitudes and trials to which we are exposed call forth
our energies, awaken the noblest sensibilities of our nature,
and strengthen our best affections.
Disease is not unfrequently the means of leading to the path
of virtue : it has a salutary operation on our moral constitu-
tion, and prepares us for the rewards of obedience. Death
is a departure from the present scene; and we have good
reason to conclude that, with respect to those who have acted
virtuously here, it is a transition to a more exalted state of
being. No virtuous person, then, has reason to complain:
the vicious ought to direct their murmurs and complaints, not
against the Author of their existence and their enjoyments,
but against their own folly and perversity in disobeying the
dictates of reason and conscience, and so forfeiting that
happiness which the bountiful Creator has placed within
their reach.
221
VOCABULARY
A.
Anther, a small body which contains the pollen, or fertilizing dust of
flowers. The anthers are fixed, generally, on the ends of slender
filaments, and surround the germ, or seed-vessel.
Aorta, the main artery of the body, which receives the blood directly
from the heart, and distributes it throughout the system.
Articulations, joints formed by the union of bones.
Atlas, the upper vertebra of the neck, and which supports the globe
of the head. The name is given in allusion to the fable of Atlas
supporting the heavens.
Auricle, a cavity of the heart. Its external shape gives it the appear-
ance of an appendage to this organ ; its name is derived from its re-
semblance to an ear — in Latin, auricula.
Azote, which signifies *• destructive of life," the same as Mtrogen,
which see.
c.
Calcareous, composed of lime.
Caloric, the ultimate principle of heat.
Calyx, the flower-cup ; the external part of the flower, usually resem-
bling the leaves in color, and containing the other parts of the flower
within it.
Capillary, hair-like. The extreme vessels of the body are so called,
from their extreme minuteness.
Capsule, the seed-vessel of plants.
Carnivorous, feeding or living on flesh.
Carotid, the name of the arteries which pass up the neck on each side
of the windpipe, and convey the blood to the head.
Cartilaginous, gristly.
Cellular, consisting of cells.
Centripetal, tending towards the centre. All bodies on the surface
have a tendency to fall towards the centre of the earth.
Cetaceous, of the whale kind.
Condyles, prominences at the ends of some of the bones, intended to
afford surfaces for the formation of joints.
Cornea, the transparent covering of the front part of the eye, through
which we see the pupil and the iris.
Corolla, the petals of the flower considered as a whole.
Chromatic, having the colors of the rainbow.
D.
Diuphragrm. a thin, broad, muscular membrane, extending across the
body, and formino- the lower extremity of the thorax.
19*
222 VOCABULARY.
Dioptrics, a branch of optics treating of the refraction of light on its
passing through transparent substances.
Dorsal, relating to the back.
Duodenum, the first of the small intestines, next to the stomach, and
receiving the food from it.
E.
Elytra, the external, hard, scaly wings of many insects, as beetles.
Epiglottis, the valve which covers the passage from the mouth into the
windpipe.
ExuvicE, the cast-off skin, shells, or other coverings of animals.
Evisceration, removal of the internal organs.
F.
Farina, the same as pollen.
Filament, a substance long and slender, like a thread.
G.
Gas, a term in chemistry, nearly the same as air. All fluids which
are aeriform in ordinary temperatures, are called gases.
Gastric, belonging to the stomach.
Glands, so called, from their supposed resemblance to an acorn (glans).
Their office is to secrete from the blood fluids of various kinds.
H.
Herbivorous, feeding on herbs or grasses.
Hydrogen, one of the elements of water. It can be obtained only in
the form of a gas.
I.
Incubation, the sitting upon and hatching of eggs.
Inertia, the property of matter which makes it remain in the state in
which it is, whether of motion or rest.
Iris (plural irides), the colored ring surrounding the pupil of the eye.
L.
LachrijvKil, relating to tears.
Lamince, thin plates, or layers.
Larva, an insect in its first state, usually called a worm, or caterpillar.
Larynx, the upper part of the windpipe, including the organs of speech.
Lens, any transparent substance of a convex or concave form.
M.
Medullary, consisting of marrow. It is applied also to the substance
of the brain and nerves.
Membranes, thin expansions of animal substances, covering all the im-
portant animal organs. The stomach is formed of several mem-
branes laid together.
Monopetalous, a corolla consisting of a single petal.
Muscles, bundles of fibrous flesh. In the mammalia, birds, and some
reptiles, they are red; in other animals mostly white. They consti-
VOCABULARY. 223
tute the cliief portion of the flesh of animals, and are the parts prin-
cipally used as food.
N.
J\''asal, pertaining to the nose.
Mctitating, winking ; applied generally to the third eyelid of birds,
and some other animals.
jVitrogen, one of the gases which compose atmospheric air. Its quali-
ties are negative, and its principal use seems to be merely to dilute
the oxygen.
JfymphcB, insects in their second or chrysalis state.
o.
(Esophagus, the tube which conveys the food from the mouth to the
stomach.
Oviparous, producing young by means of eggs.
Oxygen, vital air ; also one of the component parts of water.
P.
PapillcB, small projections on the surface of organs, as on the tongue.
Pectoral, relating to the breast.
Pericardium, the membrane containing the heart.
Peristaltic, worm-like motion.
Petals, the flower leaves, or leaves of the corolla.
Pharynx, the cavity at the back part of the mouth.
Pistil, the part of a flower intended to receive the pollen of the sta
mens.
Plumula, a little plant. It is applied to the plant when it first issues
from the ground.
Pollen, the fertilizing dust of flowers, produced by the stamens. The
same as farina.
Prehensile, adapted to seize or grasp.
Process, any elevation of parts of bones.
R.
Radicle, the incipient root of plants.
Retina, a very delicate and sensitive membrane at the back part of the
eye, for the reception of the images of objects. It is supposed to be
an expansion of the optic nerve.
Ruminating, such as chew the cud.
s.
Saliva, the liquid which moistens the mouth.
Sapid, having taste.
Sensorium, the seat of all sensation, the region of the brain.
SimicE, the monkey tribe.
Spine, the back-bone ; so called from its numerous sharp processes.
Sternum, the breast-bone.
Stigmas, the extremities of the pistils of plants.
Subclavian, lying under the clavicle or collar-bone.
Synovia, a liquid which lubricates the joints, in order to prevent too
great friction.
224 VOCABULARY.
T.
Temporal, belonging to the temples.
Thorax, the chest, formed by the spine, the sternum, the ribs, and the
diaphragm.
Trachea, the windpipe.
V.
VaJvul(B conniventes, folds formed by the internal membrane of the in-
testines, and constituting partial valves.
Vascular, consisting of small vessels.
Vena cava, one of the large veins which brings the blood from the ex-
tremities of the body to the heart.
Ventricle, any small internal cavity of the body, as the ventricles of
the heart, brain, &c.
Vertebr(B, separate bones constituting the spine.
Viscus (plural viscera), the internal organs of the body, as lungs, heart,
liver, stomach, &c.
225
PAXTON'S
ILLUSTRATIONS;
WITH
DESCRIPTIONS.
INDEX TO THE PLATES.
Plate.
1.
2.
Tlie eye 226
The eye of birds and of
the eel 227
3. The lachrymal apparatus,
and nictitating mem-
brane 228
4. The hximan ear, and tym-
panum of the elephant 229
5. Trochlear muscle of the
eye .\ . 230
6. Bones of the arm 231
7. The hip, knee, and ankle
joints 232
8. The spine 233
0. Vertebras of the human
neck 234
10. The chest, patella, and
shoulder-blade 235
11. The heart 236
12. The larynx 237
13. The stomach, gall-blad-
der, &c
14. Nerves of the bill of a
duck — ValvulaB conni-
ventes — Air-bladder of
a fish, and fang of the
viper
15. The wings of the beetle,
awl, sting of the bee,
proboscis, &c
16. Foreextremity of themole
— Head of the ele-
phant— Finger-like ex-
238
239
240
Plate. Page
tremity of the proboscis
— Section of the pro-
boscis— Bat's wing —
Bill of the parrot — Eyes
of insects — Eyes of a
spider 241
17. The parotid gland 242
18. Tongue of the woodpeck-
er, and skull of the
babyrouessa 243
19. The chameleon, and in-
testine of the sea-fox . . 244
20. Claw of the heron— Bill of
the soland goose . . .
21. Stomach of the camel.
245
246
22.
23.
Silk secretors of the silk-
worm— Spinnerets of
the spider — Panorpa
communis Female
and male glow-worm
— Larva libellulae —
Breathing spiraculae —
Pupa of gnat — Straty-
omys chamoeleon 247
The capsule, pistil, sta-
mens, nigella, plumu-
la and radicle 248
Vallisneria 249
Temporary and perma-
nent teeth 2.50
The tendons of the toes . . 251
The lacteals, and thoracic
duct 253
226
PLATE I.
Fig. 1. The crystalline lens of a Jish: it is proportionally larger
than in other animals, and perfectly spherical.
Fig. 2. A section of the human eye. It is foiTned of various
coats, or membranes, containing pellucid humors of different de-
grees of density, and calculated for collecting the rays of light into
a focus upon the nerve situated at the bottom of the eye-ball.
The external membrane, called the sclerotica, is strong and firm,
and is the support of the spherical figure of the eye : it is deficient
in the centre, but that part is supplied by the cornea, wiiich is
transparent, and projects like tlie segment of a small globe from one
of larger size. The interior of the sclerotica is lined by the choroid^
which is covered by a dark mucous secretion, termed pigmentum
nigrum, intended to absorb the superfluous rays of light. The
choroid is represented in tlie ])late by the black line. The tliird
and inner membrane, which is marked by the white line, is the
retina, the expanded optic nerve.
Within these coats of the eye are the humors — a, the aqueous
humor, a thin fluid like water ; b, tlie cn/stalline lens, of a dense con-
sistence ; c,the vitreous humor, a very delicate, gelatinous substance,
named from its resemblance to melted glass. Thus the crystalline
is more dense than the vitreous, and the vitreous more dense than
the aqueous humor: they are all perfectly transparent, and together
make a compound lens, which refracts the rays of light issuing
from an object, d, and delineates its figure, e, in the focus upon the
retina, inverted.
Fig. 3. The lens of the telescope.
Fig. 4. The crystalline lens, or, as it has been called, the crys-
talline humor of the eye.
Fig. 5, 6. A plan of the circular and radiated fibres which the
iris is supposed to possess ; the former contracts, the latter dilates
the pupil, or aperture formed by the inner margin of the iris.
Fig. 7. a, a, a, a, the four straight muscles, arising from the
bottom of the orbit, where they surround, c, the optic nerve; and
are inserted, by broad, thin tendons, at the fore pait of the globe of
the eye, into the tunica sclerotica.
0
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227
PLATE II.
THE EYE OF BIRDS AND OF THE EEL.
Fig. 1, 2. The flexible rim, or hoop, of the eye of birds, consisting
of bony plates, which occupy the front of the sclerotica ; lying close
together and overla})ping each other. These bony plates, in gene-
ral, form a slightly convex ring, Fig. 1 ; but in the accipitres they
form a concave ring, as in Fig. 2, the bony rim of a hawk.
Fig. 3, 4, 6. Exhibit the marsupium : it arises from the back of
the eye, proceeding apparently through a slit in the retina : it
passes obliquely into the vitreous humor, and terminates in that
part, as in the eagle. Fig. 3, a section of the eye of the Falco chry-
saetos. In some species it reaches the lens, and is attached to it
as in Fig. 4, 6. In the plate the marsupium is marked with a *.
Fig. 5. The head of an eel ; the skin is represented turned back ;
and as the transparent, Jwrny covering of the eye, a, a, is a cuticular
covering, it is separated with it. Other fish have a similar, insen-
sible, dense, and thick adnata, which is designed to protect the
eye ; and it seems especially necessary, as fish have no eyelids.
228
PLATE 111.
THE LACHRYMAL APPARATUS, AND NICTITATING MEMBRANE.
Fig. 1, a, is the lachrymal gland: it is situated at the outer and
upper part of the orl)it of tlie eye. This is the gland which se-
cretes or separates tlie tears from the blood. There are five or
six ducts or tubes, h, which convey this fluid to the globe of the
eye, for the purpose of keeping it moist, and for facilitating its
movements ; the motion of the eyelid diffuses the tears, and, c, c,
the punda lachrijmalia take up the supei-fluous moisture, which
passes through, d, the lachrymal sac and duct, into the nostril at e.
Fig. 2. The nictitating membrane, or third eyelid : it is a thin
semi-transparent fold of the conjunctiva, which, in a state of rest,
lies in the inner corner of the eye, with its loose edge nearly ver-
tical, but can be drawn out so as to cover the whole front of the
globe. In this figure it is represented in the act of being dra\\Ti
over the eye. By means of this membrane, according to Cuvier,
Fig. 3. The two muscles of the nictitating membrane are very
singular in their form and action ; they are attached to the back of
the sclerotica; one of them, a, which from its shape is called quad-
ratus, has its origin from the up})er and back part of the sclerotica;
its fibres descend towards the o})tic nerve, and termiuate in a
curved margin with a cylindrical canal in it. The other muscle,
6, which is caWed pyramidalis, arises from the lower aud back part
of the sclerotica. It has a long tendinous cliord, c, which passes
through the canal of the quadratus, a, as a pulley, and having arrived
at the lower and exterior part of the eye-ball, is inserted into the
loose edge of the nictitating membrane. This description refers
also to Fig. 4, a profile of the eye, and Fig. 5, the membrane and
its muscles detached from the eye.
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229
PLATE IV.
THE HUMAN EAR, AND TYMPANUM OF THE ELEPHANT.
Fig. 1. The organ of hearing: a, the external ear; h, the meatus
auditorius extemus, or outward passage of the ear, leading to, c,
the memhrana tympany or (h-uiii ; rf, the ossicula auditus, or little
bones of the ear ; e, the semicircular canals ; f, the cocldea ; g, a sec-
tion of the eustachian tube, which extends from tlie cavity of the
tympanum, to the back of the mouth or fauces.
Fig, 2, The bones of the ear magnified : a, the malleus, or mallet,
connected by a process to the tympanum ; the round head is lodged
in the body of, 6, the incus, or anvil, and the incus is united to, c,
the OS orbicidare, or round bone, and this to, d, the stapes, or the
stirrup. These bones are named fi-om their shape, and the names
assist in conveying an idea of their form. They are united by
ligaments, and form an uninterrupted chain to transmit the vibra-
tions of the atmosphere.
Fig. 3. The labyrinth, so named from the intricacy of its cavities :
it is situated in the petrous part of the temporal bone, and consists
of the vestibule, or central cavity, three semicircular canals, and
cochlea, so named from its resemblance to the windings of a snail
shell, and is best explained by the plate, Fig. 1, and 3.
The vibrations of sounds, striking against the membrana tym-
pani, are propagated, by the intei-vention of these four little bones,
to the loater contained within the cavities of the labyrinth ; and by
means of this water the impression is conveyed to the extremities
of the auditory nerve, and finally to the brain.
Fish require no tympanum nor external opening to the ear ; the
fluid in which they live is the medium for conducting sounds
through the bones of the head.
Fig. 4. The tympanum of the elephant, of its natural size, show-
ing its radiated fibres, supposed to be muscular.
20
230
PLATE V.
TROCHLEAR MUSCLE OF THE EYL.
Fig. 1. The trochlear, or superior oblique muscle, arises with the
straight muscles from the bottom of the orbit. Its muscular portion,
a, is extended over the upper part of the eye-ball, and gradually
assumes the form of a smooth, round tendon, b, which passes
through the pulley, c, and is fixed to the inner edge of the orbit, </,
then returning backwards and downwards, e, is inserted into, /", the
sclerotic membrane. The use of this muscle is to bring the eye
forwards, and to turn the pupil downwai-ds and upwards.
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231
PLATE VI.
BONES OF THE ARM.
Fig. I. a, the humerus : the head, 6, is a portion of a sphere, and
exhibits an example of the ball and socket, or universal joint ; c,
the hinge-joint, instanced in the elbow ; d, the radius ; e, the ulna.
The radius belongs more peculiarly to the wrist, being the bone
which supports the hand, and which turns with it in all its re-
volving motions. The ulna principally belongs to the elbow-joint ;
for by it we perform all the actions of bending or extending the arm.
Fig. 2. a, the humerus : h shows the connection of the radius,
with, c, the ulna, at the elbow. The mode of articulation at tlie
wrist is seen, Fig. 1.
232
PLATE VII.
THE HIP, KNEE, AND ANKLE JOINTS.
Fig. 1. The capsular ligament is here opened in order to show
the ligament of the hip, named the round ligament. It allows con-
siderable latitude of motion, at the same time that it is the great
safeguard against dislocation.
Fig. 2 and 4. The crucial or internal ligaments of the knee-joint
arise from each side of the depression between the condyles of the
thigh-bone ; the anterior is fixed into the centre, the ])osterior into
the back of the articulation of the tibia. This structure properly
limits the motions of the joint, and gives the firmness requisite for
violent exertions. Viewing the form of the bones, we should con-
sider it one of the weakest and most superficial ; but the strength
of its ligaments and the tendons passing over it, render it the most
secure, and the least liable to dislocation, of any joint in the whole
body.
Fig. 3. One of the interarticular cartilages of the knee, from
then* shape called semilunar ; it is also represented in situ, Fig. 2.
The outer edge of each cartilage is thick, the inner concav^e edge
thin ; the sockets for the condyles of the thigh-bone are thus ren-
dered deeper, and the cartilages are so fixed as to allow a little
play on the tibia, by which the joint moves with great freedom.
A moving cartilage is not common, but is peculiar to those joints
whose motions are veiy frequent, or which move under a great
weight. It is a contrivance found at tlie jaw-bone, the inner head
of the collar-bone, and the articulation of the wrist, as well as at
the knee. The obvious use is to lessen friction and facilitate
motion.
Fig. 4. a, the Jibula ; b, the tibia, the lower extremities of which,
c, d, form the outer and inner ankle, and receive, e, the great artic-
ulating bone of the foot, called the astragalus, between them. When
the foot sustains the weight of the body, the joint isfii-m ; but when
raised, it easily rolls on the ends of these bones, so that the toe is
directed to the place on which we intend to step.
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233
PLATE VIII.
THE SPINE.
Fig. 1. The human spine, so named from the series of sharp
processes projecting from the posterior part of the vertebrse. The
spine consists of seven vertebrae of the neck, distinguished by the
perforations in their transverse processes ; of twelve belonging to
the back, and marked by depressions for the heads of the ribs ; and,
lastly, oi'Jive belonging to the ioms, which are larger than the other
vertebrae.
Fig. 2. A separated dorsal vertebra: a, the body of the vertebra;
J, the ring through which the spinal marrow passes ; c, c, the ar-
ticulatmg surfaces to which the ribs are united.
Fig. 3. The vertebra of a very large serpent, drawn from a speci-
men belonging to the Anatomy School of Christ Church, Oxford.
This figure shows the socket of the vertebra.
Fig. 4. The bail or rounded jomt, evidently calculated for ex-
tensive motion.
Fig. 5. A part of the spine of the same reptile ; it is exceedmgly
strong, each bone being united to the other by fifteen surfaces of
articulation.
Fift. 6. Intervertebral substance.
20*
234
PLATE IX.
VERTEBRA OF THE HUMAN NECK,
Fig. 1. A representation of the head and the neck; the latter is
composed of seven bones, called vertebra.
Fig. 2. Exhibits the first and second vertebrae, with their mode
of connection. The uppermost vertebra, termed the atlas, from its
supporting the globe of the head, has an oval, concave surface, a, a,
on either side, for the reception of two corresponding convex sur-
faces placed on the lower part of the head, in such a manner as only
to admit of the action of bendmg and raising the head.
Fig. 3. The atlas.
Fig. 4. The second vertebra, called dentata, has two plane surfaces,
a, a, adapted to the planes, a, a, Fig. 3, of the adas ; and this man-
ner of articulation provides for the turning of the head laterally in
almost every direction. Fig. 2, and 4, b, b, show the tooth-like pro-
cess, which affords a firm pivot for the production of the lateral
motion just described. This process is received into a correspond-
ing indentation of the atlas. Fig. 3, b, and a strong ligament passes
behind it, serving as an effectual security against dislocation and
the consequent compi-ession of the spinal marrow. Fig. 4, d, marks
the situation for the spinal marrow, which passes through the ring
of each vertebra. The letter c indicates a pei-foration in the lateral
process ; and, as there is a corresponding perforation in each lateral,
or, as it is termed, transverse process of the seven cervical vertebrae,
a continuous passage is thus formed for the protection of two im-
portant blood-vessels destmed to supply the brahi.
235
PLATE X.
THE CHEST, PATELLA, AND SHOULDER-BLADE.
Fig. 1. The spine, ribs, and sternum, constitute the framework
of the chest or thorax. Referring, however, to the plate, or to
nature, we observe that the ribs are not continued throughout from
the spine to the sternum, but intervening cartilages complete the
form of the chest, by connecting the end of the first ten ribs to the
breast-bone. This is a further provision, relative to the mechanical
function of the lungs, deserving notice. The muscles of respira-
tion enlarge the cajjacity of the chest by elevating the ribs ; and
during the momentary interval of muscular action, the cartilages,
from theu' great elasticity, restore the ribs to their former position.
Fig. 2. Represents the true shape of the patella, the anteiior sw-
face convex. Fig. 3, the posterior surface, which has two concave
depressions adapted to the condyles of the thigh-bone. The pro-
jection of the patella, as a lever, or pulley, removes the acting force
from the centre of motion, by which means the muscles have a
greater advantage in extending the leg. Such bones are numer-
ous, though less obvious, for they do not exceed the size of a pea :
these are called sesamoid bones, and are formed in the flexor tendons
of the thumb, and sometimes in the fingers. They are frequently
found under the tendons of some of the muscles. Two of this
sort of bones are constantly found under the articulation of the great
toe with the foot : some also are discovered, though not so con-
stantly, under the corresponding joints of the other toes. The
sesamoid bones, like the patella, remove their tendons from the
centre of motion, facilitate their glidings over the bone, and pro-
tect their articulations.
Fig. 4. The shoulder-blade {scapula) is joined to the collar-bone
by ligaments, and to the thorax by powerful muscles, which are
capable of sustaining immense weights, and whose action gives the
various directions to the arm, and enables it freely to revolve at the
shoulder-joint.
Fig. 5. The os hyoides, a small bone situated at the root of the
tongue. It serves as a lever or point for attaching the muscles of
the tongue, larynx, and those of deglutition.
236
PLATE XI.
THE HEART.
Fig. 1. A section of the human heart; a, a, the superior and in-
ferior vena cava, the veins which convey the blood to, b, the right
auricle, and thence into, c, the corresponding ventricle; from this
ventricle the blood is impelled through, e, the pulmonary artery, in-
to the lungs; and returning by, /,/, the pulmonary veins, it is re-
ceived into, g, the lejt auricle ; it flov^^s next into, h, the left ventricle,
which, by its contraction, distributes the blood through the general
arterial system ; j, the aorta, the great artery which transmits blood
to the different parts of the body, from whence it is returned by
veins to the cava ; k, the right subclavian ; I, the right carotid ar-
teries, originating from one common trunk ; m, the left carotid; n,
the lejl subclavian ; d, the valves of the right ; i, the valves of the
left ventricle.
Fig. 2. The valves of the right side [tricuspid valves) separated
from the heart ; a, a, a, the columnce carnefE, or muscular fibres of
the valves ; b, b, b, the chord(K tendinece, or tendinous filaments
which are attached to, c, the valves.
Fig. 3. Exhibits the pulmonary artery cut open, v/ith the form
of the semilunar valves.
Fig. 4. A portion of the artery filled, showing how effectually
tlie valves prevent the retrograde motion of the blood in the aorta
and pulmonary artery.
Fig. 5, 6. A section of a cutting and grinding tooth, showing
the apertures at the root, and the cavities for the vessels and nerves,
which supply the bony part of the teeth, the enamel not being an
organized substance.
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237
PLATE XII.
THE LARYNX.
Fig. 1. The larynx, pharynx, &c. ; a, the os hyoides ; 6, the epiglot-
tis pressed down, thus covering the glottis, or opening of the larynx,
Fig. 2. Exhibits the larynx and trachea, which is a continu-
ation of the former ; 6, the epiglottis ; g, the arytenoid cartilages ;
e, the thyroid cartilage, exceedingly strong, for the protection of
the upper part of the air-tube ; d, the cartilaginous ringlets of the
trachea or windpipe, each forming nearly two thirds of a circle,
and completed hy,f, a soft me mftrane, which, from its apposition to,
e, Fig. 1, the asopliagus, accommodates itself to the substances
passing into the stomach.
Fig. 3. The larynx or upper part of the windpipe of a bird.
This is called the inferior larynx, where the vocal organ is formed
by a compression of the trachea, for it is here contracted into a
narrow chink, and divided mto two openings by a slender bone,
or tense membrane, which, in producing sounds, resembles the
mechanism of a musical instrument. In the plate, this part of the
larynx is a little turned up, to show the tendinous hand at this ex-
tremity stretched across it, which is furnished from the surround-
ing parts with muscles to modulate the tone.
238
PLATE XIII.
THE STOMACH, GALL-BLADDER, &C.
Fig. 1. a, the stomach; h, ihe cay-dia; c, the pyloi'us. The gastric
juice is a secretion derived from the inner membrane of the stomach,
and digestion is principally performed by it. In the various orders
of animated beings it differs, being adapted to the food on which
they are accustomed to subsist. The food, when properly masti
Gated, is dissolved by the gastric fluid, and converted into chyme ;
so that most kinds of the iugesta lose their specific qualities ; and
the chemical changes to which they would otherwise be liable, as
putridity and rancidity, &c., are thus prevented.
In this plate, h, the liver, is turned up, in order to show the gall-
bladdei', which is attached to its concave surface ; d, the duodenum ;
e, part of the small intestines ; f, the pancreas ; and g, the spleen.
Fig. 2. Explains the several ducts and their communication with
the duodenum ; a, the gall-Madder ; 6, the ductus cysticus ; which
uniting with, c, the ductus hep aticus, forms, d, the ductus communis ;
which, after passmg between the muscular and inner coats of the
intestine, opens into it at e ; /, the pancreatic duct. The bile is said
to become more viscid, acrid, and bitter, from the thinner pai'ts
being absorbed during its retention in the gall-bladder.
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239
PLATE XIV.
NERVES OF THE BILL OF A DUCK, VALVULE CONNIVENTES, AIR-
BLADDER OF A FISH, A^D FANG OF THE A'IPER.
Fig. 1. The upper mandible of the duck, on which are distrib-
uted the first and second branches of the fifth pair of nerves ; the
former passing tln-ough the orbit to the extremity of the bill, and,
together with the latter, supplying the whole palatine surface. This
gustatory sensibility is the moi-e necessary to those races of birds
called palmipedes, such as penguins, the wild goose, ducks, &c.,
and the gralloe, such as water-hens, curlews, woodcocks, &.C., thek
sight being of no assistance to them in finding their prey in
the mu*e.
Fig. 2. A small portion of the human intestine cut open in order
to show the valvulcR conniventes. It may be questioned whether
these extremely soft rugpe or folds of the villous coat of the intes-
tine can in the least retard the passage of the food through its
canal ; nor does the erect attitude of man require them ; for, since
there are as many of the convolutions of the intestines ascending
as there are descending, the weight of the food can have no influ-
ence in the action of the intestine: it is certain, however, that this
arrangement of the internal coat affords a more extensive surface
for the larteals and secreting vessels ; and this appears to be the
real use of the valvid<B conniventes.
Fig. 3. The air-bladder in the roach. This vessel differs in size
and shape, in different species of fish ; generally communicating,
by one or more ducts, either with the oeso])hagus or stomach ; by
which means the fish receives or expels the air, thus sinking or
rising without effort: but as some are destitute of this organ, it is
considered as an accessory instrument of motion. Such fish live
almost uniformly at the bottom of the water.
Fig. 4. The head of a viper, of the natural size.
Fig. 5. The/ano- magnified, at the root of which is the gland
which secretes the venom : a hair is represented in the tube through
which the poison is ejected.
240
PLATE XV.
THE WINGS OF THE BEETLE, AWL, STING OF THE BEE, PRO-
BOSCIS, &C.
Fig. 1. Is an instance of the horny and gauze wings in one of
the most beautiful of the beetle class of this country, the Cetonia
aurata^ or rose chafer ; showing the expanded elytra, a, a ; the true
wings, b, b.
Elytra are the wing covers of all the coleoptera order. They are
frequently grooved, and curiously ornamented, in some species
with scaly variegations of metallic lustre, as in the diamond beetle,
and some species of Buprestis. One of the latter, of extraordinary
brilliancy, forms an object in the "Cabinet of Beauty" in the Ash-
molean Museum. The use of the elytra is to protect the wings
and body ; and they are of some assistance in flying.
Fig. 2. A specimen of the elytra covering half the body in the
ear-wig (Forficula auricularia) ; one of the elytra is extended, and
the membranous wing unfolded ; showing the numerous diverging
7iervures, or muscular tendons, which run in horny tubes, to
keep the wing extended, a, a, anieniKB usually consist of a number
of tubular joints, with a free motion in each, enabling the insect to
give them every necessary flexure ; they vary in number and in
shape in the various orders, and are covered with hair, down, or
bristles, frequently elegant and diversitied, as every one may ob-
serve. Entomologists conceive, that the antennae, by a peculiar
structure, may collect notices from the atmosphere, receive vibra-
tions, and connnunicate them to the sensorium, which, though not
precisely to be called hearing, is something analogous to it, or may
answer that purpose.
Fig. 3. The awl of the Mstrum bovis, or gad-Jly, highly magni-
fied. It is formed of corneous substance, consisting of four joints,
which slip into each odier : the last of these terminates in five
points, three of which are longer than the others, and are liooked;
when united, they form an instrument like an auger or gimlet, with
which the skin is pierced in a few seconds.
Fig. 4. One of the hooks.
Fig. 5. The sting of a bee, drawn from nature as it appeal's by
means of a magnifier of very high powers; a, a, a, a, the appara
tus for projecting the sting: 6, the exterior, c, the interior sheath
of, d, the true sting, which is divided into two parts, barbed at the
sides ; e, the bag whicli contains the poison.
Fig. 0. The proboscis of a bee extended ; a, a, the case or sheath ;
6, the tube ; c, the exterior, d, the interior fringes; e, the tongue;
f,f, the exterior, g, g, the interior palpi.
Fig. 7. The appearance of the proboscis when contracted, and
folded up.
Fig. 8. The head of a butterfly, showing the coiled proboscis.
Fig. 9. Ovipositor of^ the Buprestis.
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'^41
PLATE XVI.
FORE EXTREMITF OF THE MOLE — HEAD OF THE ELEPHANT FINGER-
LIKE EXTREMITy OF THE PROBOSCIS — SECTION OF THE PROBOSCIS
bat's wing — BILL OF THE PARROT — EYES OF INSECTS — EYES OF
X SPIDER,
Fig. 1. Is the fore extremity of the mole ; a, the os humeri, is pe-
cuhar, not only for its shortness, but in being articulated by, h, one head
to the scapula, and by, c, another to the clavicle ; it is altogether of
such a nature as to turn the palm outwards for working.
The foot, or we may name it the hand, has eleven bones in the
carpus, or wrist, which is two more than the carpus of man ; one of
which, </, is remarkable, and from its shape is called the falcif arm bone:
it gives the shovel form to the hand.
Fig. 2, The head of the Elephant.
Fig. 3 and 4. The digitated extremity of the proboscis.
Fig. 5. A transverse section of the proboscis, showing, a, a, the two
tubes or nostrils. Between the external integuments and the tubes are
two sets of small muscles; an inner one running in a transverse, and
an outward one in a longitudinal direction : b, b, the transverse fasciculi
of muscles, some of which run across the proboscis, others in a radi-
ated, and some in an oblique direction : c, c, the radiated, and d, d, the
oblique fibres approximate the skin and the tubes, without contracting
the cavity of the latter. The others, which pass across the proboscis,
contract both the surface of the organ and the canals it contains ; they
can, at the same time, elongate the whole or a part of it; e, e, the lon-
gitudinal fasciculi, forming four large muscles, which occupy all the
exterior of tjie organ.
Fig. C. The extended wings of the hat. Osteologically considered,
they are hands, the bony stretches of the membrane being the finger
bones extremely elongated : a, a, the thumb, is short, and armed with a
hooked nail, which these animals make use of to hang by, and to creep.
The hind feet are weak, and have toes of equal length, armed also with
hooked nails ; the membrane constituting the wing, is continued from
the feet to the tail.
Fig. 7. The upper mnndible of the parrot, which is articulated with
the cranium by an elastic ligament, admitting of a considerable degree
of motion.
Fig. 8. An eye compounded of a number of lenses. The eyes of in-
sects differ widely from those of vertebrated animals, by being incapable
of motion : the compensation, therefore, is a greater number of eyes, or an
eye compounded of a number of lenses. Hook computed the lenses in
a horse-fly to amount to 7,000, and Leuwenhoek found the almost in-
credible number of 12,000 in the dragon-fly.
Fig. 9. The eyes of a 5p^■rfer, drawn from nature. The number of
eyes in insects varies from two to sixteen. The spider here referred
to, answers the description of the garden spider {Epeira diadema), the
eyes of which are planted on three tubercles, four on the central one,
and two on each side of the lateral ones.
21
242
PLATE XVII.
THE PAROTID GLA>"D.
Fig. 1. A dissection to eidiibit the parotid gland.
Fig. 2. Explains the former ; a, a, the integuments turned back ;
h, the parotid gland ; c, its pipe or duct passing over the masseter, then
perforating, d, the buccinator muscle, and opening into the mouth
opposite the second molar tooth. The flow of saliva into the
mouth is mcessant, and it is one of the most useful digestive fluids.
It is favorable to the maceration and division of the food ; it assists
in its deglutition and transformation into chyme ; it also renders
more easy the motions of the tongue in speech and singmg.
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243
PLATE XVIII.
TONGUE OF THE WOODPECKER, AIS'D SKULL OF THE BABYROUESSA.
Fig. 1. The head of the ivoodpecker [Picus viridis).
Fig. 2. The tongue, the natural size.
Fig. 3. The claw of the same bu'd.
Fig. 4. The skull of the Babyrouessa, from a specimen in the
Anatomy School, Christ Church, Oxford.
This animal is nearly the size of tiie common hog, and, instead
of bristles, is covered with fine short and woolly hair, of a deep
brown or black color. It is also distinguislied by the extraordinaiy
position and form of the upper tusks, which are not situated on the
edge of the jaw, as in other animals, but are placed externally,
perforating the skm of the snout, and turning upwards towards
the forehead.
The Babyrouessa is found in large herds in many parts of Java,
Amboyna, and other Indian islands, and feeds on vegetables.
244
PLATE XIX.
THE CHAMELEON, AND INTESTINE OF THE SEA-FOX.
Fig. 1. The chameleon, dra\vn from one of the specimens preserv-
ed in the Anatomy School, Christ Church, Oxford. Tlie eyes of this
creature are very pecuhar : they are remarkably large, and pro-
ject more than half their diameter. They are covered with a
single eyelid, with a small opening in it opposite the ])upil. The
eyehd is granulated like every part of the surface of the body,
with this difference ; over the eye the granulations are disposed in
concentric circles which form folds in that part to which the eye
is turned ; and as the lid is attached to the front of the eye, so it
follows all its movements. The neck is not inflexible, but its
shortness, and the structure of the cervical vertebrae exceedingly limit
the motion : this, however, is admirably compensated by the not
less singular local position than motion of the eye, as the animal
can see behmd, before, or on either side, without turning the head.
Fig. 2. The spiral intestine of the sea-fox cut open ; taken from
a preparation in the museum of the Royal College of Surgeons,
London. The sea-fox is a species of shark {Squalus vulpes). The
convoluted intestinal tube is also found in some other genera of
fish. In this specimen the internal membrane is conveited into a
spiral valve, having thirty-six coils ; so that the alimentary sub-
stances, instead of passing speedily away, by proceeding round the
turns of the valve, traverse a very considerable circuit: an exten-
sive surface for the absorbents is thus provided.
Fig. 3. The spii-al valve removed, showing the mode of its
coilinsr.
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245
PLATE XX.
CLAW OF THE HERO>", AND BILL OF THE SOLAND GOOSE.
Fig. 1. The middle daw of the heron.
Fig. 2. The head of the soland goose [Pelecanus hassanus), drawn
from a specimen iii the Ashmolean JMuseum, Oxford. This bird
inhabits the coldest parts of Great Britain, more especially the
northern isles of Scotland. The inhabitants of St. Kilda make it
their principal article of food, and are said to consume annually
near 30,000 young bu'ds, beside an amazing quantity of eggs.
21*
246
PLATE XXI.
STOMACH OF THE CAMEL.
The figure in this plate exhibits the cells in the stomach of the
camel, from a preparation in the museum of the Royal College of
Surgeons, London. In the camel, dromedary, and lama, there, are
four stomachs, as in honied ruminants ; but the structure, in some
respects, differs from those of the latter. The camel tribe have, in
the first and second stomachs, numerous cells several inches deep,
formed by bands of muscular fibres crossing each other at right
angles : these are constructed so as to retain the water, and com-
pletely exclude the food. In a camel dissected by Sir E. Home,
the cells of the stomach were found to contain two gallons of
water ; but in consequence of the muscular contraction, which had
taken place immediately after death, he was led to conclude this
was a quantity much less than these cavities were capable of re-
ceiving in the living animal. See Lectures on Comparative Anat-
omy, by Sir E. Home, vol. i. p. 168.
Mr. Bruce states, in his Travels, that he procured four gallons of
water from a camel, which from necessity he slaughtered in Upper
Egypt.
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247
PLATE XXII.
SILK SECRETORS OF THE SILK-WORM — SPINNERETS OF THE SPIDER
PANORPA COMMUNIS FEMALE AND MALE GLOW-WORM LARVA LI-
BELLUL^ — BREATHING SPIRACUL^ — PUPA OF GNAT STRATYOMTfS
CHAMELEON.
Fig. 1. The organs for forming the silk consist of two long vessels.
They unite to form the spinneret (fusulus), through which the larva
draws the silken thread employed in fabricating its cocoon, a, a, the
silk hags ; b, the sjrinnerct.
Fig. 2. The web of spiders is also a kind of silk, remarkable for its
lightness and tenuity; it is spun from four or six spinnerets, the
fluid matter forming the web being secreted in adjacent vessels, a, b,
c, d, the spinnerets.
Fig. 3. Panorpa communis (Linn.) is an insect frequently seen in
meadows during the early part of summer. It is a long-bodied fly, of
moderate size, with four transparent wings, elegantly variegated with
deep brown spots.
Fig. 4. The female glow-worm.
Fig. 5. The male of the same insect. ,
Fig. G. The larva of some dragon-flies {JEshna and Lihelhda, F.) swim
by strongly ejecting water. By first taking in the water, and then ex-
pelling it. they are enabled to swim. This may be seen by putting
one of these larvae into a plate with water. We find that while the
animal moves forward, a current of water is produced by this pumping
in a contrary direction. Sometimes it will raise its tail above the
surface, when a stream of water issues from it.
Fig. 7. The spiraculce, or breathing pores of insects, are small ori-
fices in the trunk or abdomen, opening into canals called the trachea,
ty which the air enters the body, or is expelled from it. In the larvse
or caterpillars, a trachea runs on each side of the body, under the skin,
and generally opens externally by nine or ten apertures or spiraculae ;
from these the same number of air-vessels, of a silver color, pass off" to
be dispersed through the body, a, a, spiracul(B ; b, b, trachece.
Fig. 8. The pupae of gnats suspend themselves on the surface of the
water, by two ear-shaped respiratory organs at the posterior extremity
of the body, the breast being doubled upwards upon the abdomen. When
disposed to descend, the animal unfolds it, and with sudden strokes which
she gives with it, she swims from right to left, as well as upwards and
downwards, with the greatest ease.
Fig. 9. This is a well-known fly (Stratijomijs chamoileon, F.), chame-
leon-fly. In its first state it inhabits the water, and often remains sup-
ported by its radiated tail, consisting of beautiful feathered hairs or
plumes, on the surface, with its head downwards. But when it is dis-
posed to seek the bottom, or to descend, the radii of the tail are formed
into a concavity including in it an air-bubble ; this is its swim-blad-
der, and by the bending of its body from right to left, contracting itself
into the form of the letter S, and then extending itself again into a
(Straight line, it moves itself in any direction.
248
PLATE XXIII.
THE CAPSULE, PISTIL, STAMENS, NIGELLA, PLUMULA, AND RADICLE.
Fig. 1. The capsule or seed-vessel of the poppy {Papaver som-
niferum) : it is divided to exhibit its internal structure.
Fig. 2. Is an histance of an erect flower, the Agave Americana,
in which the pistil is shorter than the stamens, a, the pistil ; 6, the
stigma ; c, the stamens ; d, the anthers.
Fia. 9. A flowpr of the rrnwn inwerial iFritillaria wwc*^"^^^)'
The relative length of the parts is now inverted, a, the pistil ; 6,
the stamens.
Fig. 4. A blossom of the Nigella.
Fig. 5. A grahi of barley, showing the plumula and radicle
growing from it.
^iliilil**^'
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1
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249
\ PLATE XXIV.
VALLISNERIA.
Fig. 1. Vallisneria spiralis. The female plant, the flowers of
which are purple.
Fig. 2. The male plant, producing white flowers: these when
mature rise hke air-bubbles, and, suddenly expanding when they
reach the surface of the water, float about in such abundance as to
cover it entirely. " Thus their pollen is scattered over the stigmas
of the first-mentioned blossoms, whose stalks soon afterwards re-
sume their spiral figure, and the fruit comes to maturity at the
bottom of the water."
Fig. 3. One of the separated maZe flowers magnified.
250
PLATE XXV.
TEMPORARY AND PERMANENT TEETH.
Fig. 1. The gums and outer plate of the bone are removed,
showing the teeth of the infant, as they exist at the time of its
birth : they are without roots, and contained in a capsule withm
the jaws.
FiGf. 2. In this figure, also, the outer alveolar plate of the jaws
has been removed to show the succession of teeth. This is the
state at six years of age. The teviporary teeth are all shed be-
tween the ages of seven and fourteen, and are supplied by the
permanent teeth, already nearly perfectly formed, and situated at
the roots of the former.
Uf)
20
4
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251
PLATE XXVI.
THE TENDONS OF THE TOES.
Fig. 1. «, the tendon of the longjiexor of the toes, which divides
about the middle of the foot into four portions, passing through
the shts in, h, the short flexor tendons. Fig. 2. explains a similar
contrivance belonging to each finger : or, a tendon of the flexor
suhlimis ; b, a tendon of the flexor profundus, passing through it.
Fig. 3. a, 6, tendons of the extensor muscles of the toes ; c, a
tendon of a flexor of the foot. These are bound dow^n and retain-
ed in situ by, e, the annular ligament of the instep, which consists
of two distinct cross bands, going from the outer ankle to the in-
ner ankle and neighbormg bones.
252
PLATE XXVII.
THE LACTEALS, AND THORACIC DUCT.
The figure in this plate represents the course of the food, from
its entrance at the mouth to its assimilation with the blood : a, the
(Rsophagus, extending from the pharynx to, &, the stomach ; where
the alimentary matter, having undergone the digestive process, is
converted into chyme, a soft, homogeneous substance, and escapes
at c, the pylorus^ into d, the intestines. In this plate a large portion
of the latter is spread out, to show a part of the absorbent system
called lacteals : these collect and imbibe the chyle, or milky juice
from the chyme, and transmit it through e, e, the mesenteric glands,
into one general receptacle, f [receptacidum chyli), from which, g,
the thoracic duct ascends, in a more or less tortuous direction, to
the lower vertebrae of the neck, and after forming an arch, it de-
scends and enters, h, the left subclavian vein, at the point where
that vein is united with the internal jugular. The absorbents of
the right side frequently form a trunk, which enters the right sub-
clavian vein.
, I
^ Gould, Kendall, S^ Lincoln's Publications.
\ *-
1
\ qpiIE ORIGIN AND HISTORY OF MISSIONS ; ^
\ -■- a Record of the Voyages, Travels, Labors, and Sue- \
V cesses of the various Missionaries, who have been sent forth ^
\ by Protestant Societies and Ciiurches to evaiigehze the \
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\ London. Fourth Edition, continued to the present time. \
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\ IV/rAMMON; (Prize Essay;) qi-, Covetousiiess the Sin
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the Tenth London Edition.
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with talents which, if rightly applied and heeded, may yet be ^
^ destined to move the moral world. His eloquence is the elo- \
[From the Philadelphia Observer.]
This neat little volume, on the important subject of which it
treats, we have read with much satisfaction. The author han-
dles it in a masterly manner. * * * Our hope is, that it will be
extensively read.
[From Zion's Herald.]
Among all the books which have fallen into our hands to
i
Gould^ Kendall^ S^ Lincoln's Puhlications. \
quence of reason, founded in the records of eternal truth. His v
sentiments are a wonderful concentration of truth and wisdom, ^
carrj^ing with them such convincing power, as must strip ava- N
rice of its coat of mail, and turn the streams of extravagance "
into the channel of universal love. His style is so entirely free
of cumbrous words, that the whole book resembles a series of
epigrammatical sentences, each one conveying, in a few lines,
that for which, in many writers, we have to travel over pages.
[From the Southern Religious Telegraph.]
Its appearance is highly seasonable. Its title may appear
repulsive to some members of the church. Mammon ! Who is
willing to be recognized as a disciple of Mammon ? * * * The ^
power and spirit in which it is written, the noble thoughts of \
the writer, nobly expressed, will commend it to their attention, \
and they will read and admire it, even if they decide that they \
will not repent. ^
[From the Biblical Recorder, Newburn, N. C] ^
The extent and ruinous consequences of the sin of which this \
work treats, even among professors of religion, we have long ^
been fully apprized of. The publication of the above-named \
work in this country, we therefore consider seasonable and v
happy. \
[From the RichMond Religious Herald.] \
The work attacks with much force this insidious vice. Mr. \
Harris is a fearless and energv^tic writer. His style is close, \
nervous and lucid, and his hab.'ts of thinking highly original.
The topics he selects are judiciously selected, and impressive-
ly enforced. The present treati&e has fully answered ovir ex-
pectations ; and we earnestly trust it will be extensively read,
and be productive of much good.
[Extract from an extended Notice in tlie Christian Review.]
We hail this volume with heartfelt pleasure. Its appearance
is most seasonable. It will commend itself to all who will <
peruse its pages ; and we trust that its solemn and powerful ap- \
peals to conscience and duty may be productive of the happiest \
results. We do earnestly advise the pastors of churches to take N
pains to promote the circulation and perusal of this masterly \
production among their congregations. \
[A correspondent of the Boston Recorder says,] \
O that Christian professors generally could be induced to ^
read, with a teachable spirit, this pungent, soul-stirring appeal, \
and then examine how clearly and frequently the Scriptures \
place the covetous with " idolaters," who " have no inheritance \
in the kingdom of Christ and of God." ^
V Gould, Kendall, 4' Lincoln's Publications. \
\ i
\ MEMOIR OF GEORGE DANA BOARDMAN, ^
\
\ LATE 3I1SSIONARY TO BURMAH, \
\ \
\ CONTAINING MUCH INTELLIGENCE RELATIVE TO THE \
\ \
\ BURMAN MISSION. \
\ BY REV. ALONZO KING, OF Northeoro',Mass. \
^ A correct likeness of Mr. Boardman, engraved on steel, from a painting in ^
^ possession of the family, and a beautiful vignette representing the bap- \
^ tismal scene just before his death, have been added. ^
\
\ [From Rev. J. O. Choules, of New Bedford.] \
\ J have read the Memoir of Boardman with great satisfaction. \
^ * * * The great charm in the character of Mr. Boardman was \
N his fervent piety ; and his biographer has succeeded admirably \
\ in holding him up to the Christian world as the pious student, N
\ the faithful minister, and the self-denying, laborious missionary. \
\ To the student, to the Christian minister, it will be a valuable \
\ book, and no Christian can peruse it without advantage. I hope ^
\ our ministering brethren will aid in the circulation of the Me- \
^ moir. Every church will be benefited by its diffusion among \
> its members. Yours, &c., John O. Choules. ^
V [From the Christian Watchman.] ^
^ This Memoir belongs to that small class of books, which may ^
\ be read with interest and profit by every one. It comprises so >
X much of interestiiig history ; so much of simple and pathetic V
^ narrative, so true to nature ; and so much of correct moral and \
\ religious sentiment, that it cannot fail to interest persons of all \
\ ages and of every variety of taste. ^
^ [From Rev Baron Stow.] \
^ No one can read the Memoir of Boardman, without feeling \
\ that the religion of Christ is suited to purify the affections, e.xalt \
\ the purposes, and give energy to the character. Mr. Boardman ^
\ was a man of rare excellence, and his biographer, by a just ex- ^
^ hibition of that excellence, has rendered an important service, \
\ not only to the cause of Christian missions, but to the interests \
\ of personal godhness. ^
\ Yours, with esteem, Earon Stow. ^
^•xx^*'-'^^x>'^^^^^^^^*»^^^^^^>«^^^^^^xx<'^^^^^^^-'^-'^^*»^-<5>
Gould, Kendall, S^ Lincoln's Publications. \
MEMOIR OF MRS. ANN H. JUDSON,
V
\
\
\
LATE MISSIONARY TO BURMAH. ^
New and EnlargedEdition. ^
\
\
Including a History of the American Baptist Mission in the Bur- \
man Empire to the present Time. \
BYJAMESD.KNOWLES, \
Professor of Pastoral Duties in the Newton Theological Institution. \
\
EMBELLISHED WITH ENGRAVINGS.
\
\ Twenty-five thousand copies of this work have been sold in the United ^
\ States, besides several editions in England. It has also been printed in \
\ French, and is about to be pu>blished in the German language ; which \
\ shows that it is a work of no ordinary interest. ^
\ [Extract from Mrs. Hale's Ladies' Magazine.] \
> We are glad to announce this work to our readers. The \
\ character of Mrs. Judson is an honor to American ladies. The \
\ ardent faith that incited her to engage in an enterprise so full \
\ of perils ; the fortitude she exhibited under trials which it seems ^
^ almost incredible a delicate woman could have surmounted ; her \
\ griefs, and the hopes that supported her. should be read in her \
\ own expressive language. Her talents were unquestionably of ^
^ a high order; but the predominant quality of her mind was its V
\ energy. The work contains, besides the life of Mrs. Judson, a \
N History of the Burman Mission, with a sketch of the Geography, ^
^ &c., of that country, and a Map accompanying, and a beautifully ^
^ engraved portrait of Mrs. Judson. ^
\ [From the London New Baptist Miscellany.] V
\ This is one of the most interesting pieces of female biography ^
\ v/hicli has ever come under our notice. No quotation, which \
^ our limits allow, would do justice to the facts, and we must \
J therefore refer our readers to the volume itself. It ought to be ^
\ immediately added to every family library. ^
\ Gould, Kendall, 4* Lincoln's Publications. \
X ^.^________ __ V
\ jyrEMOIR OF REV. WILLIAM CAREY, D. D., forty \
\ J.TJ. Years Missionary in India. By Rev. Eustace Carey. ^
V With an Introductory Essay, by Francis Wayland, D. D., \
\ President of Brown University. With a correct Likeness. \
\ \
\ [From the Monthly Paper of the Baptist General Tract Society.] ^
^ This is a work of surpassing interest, which no Christian can ^
V read without profit. The mechanical execution is excellent, N
\ and reflects much credit on the enterprising publishers. They \
\ have given to the American public an imperishable work, that \
^ will be perused with intense interest by generations yet unborn. >
N We have seldom, if ever, read a book which has impressed V
\ us with such a conviction of the importance of its being most \
S extensively circulated. With the Memoir of our own Mrs. ^
\ Judson, it ought to have a place in every family and in every >
J library. "^ ^
[From the Boston Recorder.] \
A Memoir of Dr. Carey must of necessity give an account of \
the rise of Baptist Missions in the East Indies, their embarrass- \
ments, their struggles, and their success. For this reason, as \
well as on account of the character of Dr. Carey, it must be a N
work of intense interest. x
[From Zion'3 Herald.] \
The compiler observes in his Preface, that his endeavor has \
^ been to exhibit the Christian and the missionary, rather than the >
V scholar. We think he has succeeded. It is in the character of \
\ a Christian missionary that Dr. Carey preeminently shines. It \
< was through his labors, under the blessing of God, that a char- ^
^ acter and stability were given to missionary operations in India, ^
\ which have justly made them the admiration of the Christian \
\ world. We compliment the publishers for the beautiful style in \
\ which they have issued this book. >
\ [From the Richmond Religious Herald.] ^
^ The name of Carey awakens feelings of the most interesting \
^ character in the mind of every reflecting Christian, whose heart ^
\ is alive to the prosperity of the Redeemer's kingdom on earth, and \
\ who longs for the spiritual welfare of a perishing world. The life \
^ of the founder of modern missions, the pioneer in those efforts \
^ which, we believe, are destined to fill the whole earth with the ^
\ glory of God, and to cause the kingdoms of the earth to become \
\ the kingdoms of the Lord, cannot be perused with ordinary \
\ emotions, nor without feelings of devout gratitude, that God ^
V was pleased, in his own time, to raise up an instrument so well S
V qualified for the mighty undertaking. \
^^if<V»«
Gould, Kendall, S^ LincoMs Publications.
THE COMPLETE WORKS of the Rev. ANDREW
FULLER ; with a Menioh- of his Life. By AxNdrew
GuNTOis Fuller. In two volumes. With a correct Like-
ness.
This valuable work is now published in two large octavo volumes, on
fair type and tine paper, at a very low price. The co-t of former editions
($14) precluded many froui posse:^sing it. The publishers are gratified in
being able to ofl'.n- to the Christi.m public a work, replete with doctrinal ar-
guments and practical religion at a price so reduced that every one desiring
such a work mjy possess it.
FFrom Rev. Lyman Beecher, D. D.]
Gentlemen : — I cheerfully accord the testimony of my high
approbation to the Works of Andrew Fuller. He is one of the
few great, original, and holy men, whom God occasionally raises
^ up to dispel the mists which gather about the truth, and bring
^ out the unobscured illumination of the Word of God. No hu-
\ man mind has ever been unerring in all its expositions of re-
\ vealed truth ; but Edwards and Fuller have comprehended, in \
\ my opinion, both the letter and spirit of the Bible in an eminent >
V degree. With both I have been deeply conversant, from the
\ commencement of my ministry to the present day, and have uni-
\ formly and earnestly recommended to theological students and
^ young ministers, to imbue their minds with their heavenly dispo-
sitions, to acquire their habits of accurate definition and discrim-
ination, while they possess themselves of their judicious opin-
ions and powerful arguments. A better service for the truth,
to the present day, can scarcely be done, than by the extensive
circulation of the Works of Andrew Fuller. May it please the
Lord to give you great success in the enterprise.
Yours respectfully, Lyman Beecher.
[A reviewer says,]
This work, in the material and style of execution, is highly
creditable to the American press. The publishers, in issuing
this work, have conferred an obligation upon the community,
and will doubtless be rewarded in a liberal return of their in-
S vestment. Mr. Fuller was among the few extraordinary men <
\ who have ever appeared in this world. He possessed a great \
vigor of intellect, and an uncommon share of good sense, inflex- -
ible integrity, and the most ardent love of truth.
[Another reviewer says,]
The Works of Andrew Fuller have been before the public for
several years. Public opinion has passed on them its decisive
sentence. They have taken their place among the standard \
\ theological writings in the English language
\ Gould, Kendall, Sf Lincoln's Publications.
\ THE FOUR GOSPELS;
^ WITH NOTES,
\ CHIEFLY explanatory;
\ INTENDED PRINCIPALLY FOR
^ SabbatJ Sci)ool 2reac!)ers anti 33ible Classes,
\ AND AS
\ AN AID TO FAMILY INSTRUCTION.
^ BY HENRY J. RIPLEY,
\ Professor of Biblical Literature iind Interpretation in Newton Theological
J Institution.
> ■ [Extracts from the Preface.]
\ In the following Notes, I have endeavored to avoid prolixity,
> and 3'^et not to pass over, without explanation, passages that
\ really need explanation. * * * A person who may use this book,
\ either for personal information, or for enabling him to instruct
^ others, must submit to some labor. Frequently passages of
> Scripture are merely referred to, and the benefit to be drawn
\ from those passages will require that they be examined. Par-
^ ticularly will this be found necessary in the case of a Sabbath
> School teacher, or the leader of a Bible Class. If such a person
\ depends on this book as a help, he will not find his work all done
\ for him here ; but he will find, I trust, materials aiforded him,
^ by which he may do his icork himself.
\ Such is the nature of the work I proposed to myself in this book,
v that I have not felt at liberty, even if I had been disposed or ^
\ able, to indulge in flights of fancy, or to seek any rhetorical \
^ excellence, beyond a perspicuous and simple statement of facts \
\ or opinions. Nor have I made many moral reflections. Some- ^
\ times I have suggested topics of pious meditation and of useful \
^ practical remark ; at other times, I have not done so. I have \
> been guided, in this matter, by the nature of diflerent passages, \
S and by the iinpressions on my own mind. ^
V That my views of some passages should differ from those of \
\ other writers, is to be expected ; but that I have endeavored to \
\ convey to my readers the mind of the Holy Spirit, and to slied ^
S light over a part of the sacred volume, is my delightful con- \
\ sciousness. The usefulness of the eff()rt must be left to Hini, v
\ from whom come all good desires and designs, whose blessing is ^
^ necessary for every undertaking, and " whose approbation can \
\ prosper even mine." ^
9
1
\ Gould, Kendall, Sf Lincoln's Publications. \
\ ^ ^^
\ TVrALCOM'S BIBLE DICTIONARY, Stereotyped and
\ ^^ Enlarged. — A Dictionary of the most important \
\ Names, Objects, and Terms, fonnd in the Holy Scriptures ; \
\ intended principally for Sunday School Teachers and Bible \
\ Classes. By Howard Malcom, A. M. Illustrated by \
\ thirty-nine Engravings on Wood, a Map of Palestine, and >
^ an elegant Copperplate Frontispiece \
\ [From the Minutes of the Vermont State Convention.] \
\ Your Committee earnestly recommend Malcom's Bible Die- ^
\ tionary, a new work, the worth of which every lover of the ^
^ Bible will feel, and the low price of which places it within the >
\ reach of the poorest. \
\ [From the Minutes of the Boston Association.] S
^ Believing that the advantages of Sabbath School and Bible >
\ Class instruction depend greatly on the intelligence of their \
\ teachers, and that the extended circulation of Malcom's Bible \
^ Dictionary would conduce to their better qualification, — Resolved, \
\ That this work be recommended to the patronage of the friends >
\ of early rehgious instruction. \
\ ous Exercises on the Sacred Scriptures. By E. Lincoln. \
\ Revised and improved by an eminent Clergyman and a \
\ Superintendent. \
\ V
\ The present edition has been thoroughly revised and enlarged by gentle- \
^ men well qialitied for the task. The book, in its present shape, is one of >
\ the cheapest and most complete of tiie kind now in use. Among the many \
V recommendations of the work, we select the following, which have been >
^ received within a few days. ^
INCOLN'S SABBATH SCHOOL CLASS BOOK. \
The Sabbath School Class Book, comprising copi- \
\ [From Rev. Dr. Going of New York.] S
\ A careful examination of the Sabbath School Class Book con- \
\ vinced me of its high excellence, and observation of its utility \
^ in practice has strengthened the con vie. ion. I therefore fully ^
\ recommend it as being the best work for Sabbath Schools now S
\ in use. Jonathan Going. \
^ Gentlemen : — Having examined your Sabbath School Class >
\ Book, it gives us pleasure to express our satisfaction with its \
\ design and execution. The great benefit which a good class \
> book accomplishes, consists in guiding the mind of the scholar ^
, ,. ,. ........... ^
\ Gould, Kendall, S^ Lincohi's Publications. \
\. 5
\ in the study of his lesson, and in suggesting topics of conver- \
^ sation to the teaclier. To this end we think your work is well ^
> adapted, having avoided, in a great degree, the evils of extreme N
\ redundance or conciseness. \
\ W. Hague, E. Thresher, \
^ C. P. Grosvenor, H. Malcom, ^
> L. BoLLES, Baron Stow. \
\ ^N
^ A GUIDE TO CONVERSATION ON THE NEW ^
N J:\. TESTAMENT ; designed for the Use of Bible ^
\ Classes and Sabbath Schools. By Rev. William Hague. ^
^ Vol. I., containing the Gospel according to St. Matthew. ^
\ The object of this work is t-wo-fold .• — 1st. To facilitate the efforts of the ^
N teaciiers in cominiinicatins iiistrmtion to their cjis^es: — 2d. 'J'o excite a \
^ spirit of inquiry a nongst the (lasses themselves. To ihi-eiiH, suchq lestions ^
\ are asked, as are adapted to lead the mind to thinl;. and only sucli as the \
^ scholar, with the Bible in his hand, may be expected to answer, by the aid \
^ of his own reflecting power. The questions are interspersed with familiar ^
\ remarks, wliich aredesiirned to convey to the scholar such information as \
^ may not be within his reach, and also to keep up a coiitinuous conversation ^
\ between the teacher and the class. \
^ - INCOLN'S SCRIPTURE QUESTIONS, with the ^
< T ]
\ ^^ Answer annexed, giving, in the Language of the s
\ Sacred Volume, interesting Portions of the History, and a ^
\ concise View of the Doctrines and Duties, exhibited in the ^
^ Bible. ^
\ Where Bibles cannot be furnished to each scholar, the Scripture Quea- \
^ tions may ba used with convenience, as the answers are printed. \
^ f UVENILE HARMONY, containing Appropriate n
^ •^ Hymns and Music, for Sabbath Schools, Sabbath \
^ Schoof Anniversaries, and Family Devotion. By N. D. \
^ Gould. ^
> This little work contains the Rudiments of Music, set forth in \
V a plain, familiar manner, so that persons little versed in the ^
\ science of music may understand, so as to be able to teach Chil- \
\ drenandYouth.inthisinterestingandincreasingly popular branch \
\ of education. The music, which is mostly original, is simple, \
\ yet chaste ; the loords are appropriate, and the form and execution ^
\ of the work such as to render it attractive. Its remarkable N
^ cheapness, too, we think, must recommend it to every one de- \
> sirin.r such a work. It contains thirty-one tunes, and sixty-three x
S hjmils, and is sold at the very low price of $10 per hundred, or ^
\ 12^ cts. single. \
\ Gould, Kendall, S^* Lincoln's Publications. v
\ ,>>>>» ^^ ^-^^..^^^ ^ \
> PECK'S NEW GUIDE FOR EMIGRANTS TO THE WEST, con- >
\ tainiiig Sketches uf Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Aiissouri, Michigan, &.c. &c. \
\ By J. M. I'eck, a. M., uf Rock Spring, Illinois. Srcund EdiHuii. \
\ CAMP15h;LL ANU FEAELON ON ELiJUUENCE, comprising Camp-
\ bell's Lectures on Systematic Theology and Pnlp.t Eloquence, and 1- enelon's \
N Diak'^ues on Eloquence. Edited by Prof. Ripley, of Newton Theological V
\ Institution. J
\ AN EXAMINATION OF STUART'S ESSAY ON BAPTISM. By -
^ Henry J. Riplev, Prof. Bililical Literature at Newton Theol. Institution.
V JUDSON'S SERMON ON BAPTISM. c
\ FULLER'S DIALOGUES ON COMMUNION. Second Edition. \
^ THE GllEAT TEACHER. Characteristics of our Lord's Mini-try. By ^
\ Rev. John Harris. With an Introductory Essay, by Heman Humphrey -
\ D. D., I resident of Amherst College.
^ MORRli-'S MEMOIRS OF FULLER.— The Life and Character of Rev. ^
\ Andrew Fuller, Edited by Rufus Babcock, Jr., D. D. \
\ MEMOIR OF ROGER WILLIAMS, the Founder of the State of Rhode \
» Island. By James D. Knowles, A. M. ?
S MEMOIR OF REV. WILLIAM STAUGHTON, D. D. By Rev. W. <
V S. Lyxd, a. M. With a Likeness. V
\ LIFE OF PHILIP MELANCTHON, comprising an Account of the ^
> most inijiortant Transactions of the Refornnition. By F. A. Cox, D. D., \
LL. D., of London. From the Second London Edition, with important
Alterations by the Author, for this Edition.
MEMOIR OF REV. S. PEARCE. By Andrew Fuller.
MEMOIRS OF HOWARD THE PHILANTHROPIST ; compiled from
his Diary, h s confidential Letters, and other authentic Documents. With
a Likeness and Vignette. S
RE.UAINS OF REV. RICHARD CECIL, M. A. ; to which is prefixed ^
a View of his Character. By Josiah Pratt, B. D., F. A. S., with a beautiful \
Frontispiece. J
TRAVELS OF TRUE GODLINESS. By the Rev. Benjamin Keach
London ; and a Memoir of his Life, by Howard Malcom. AVith four beau- <
tiful Engravings. ^
BEAUTIES OF COLLYER. Selections from Theological Lectures by \
Rev. W. B. Collyer, D. D., F. S. A. AVith a fine Engiaving. \
IMITATION OF CHRIST. By Thomas a Kempis. A new and im- ^
proved Ed.tion, edited by Howard Malcom, A. M. With two fine En- \
gravings. \
CHURCH MEMBER'S GUIDE. By J. A. James, A. M., of Birming- \
ham, England. Edited by J. O. Choules, A. M. \
FEMALE SCRIPTURE BIOGRAPHY, including an Essay on what N
Christianity has done for Women. By F. A. Cox, D. D., LL. D., of London. ^
Two Volume-;, with four Engravings. \
SAINTS' EVERLASTING REST. By Richard Baxter. Abridged >
by B. Fawcett, A. M. With a Likeness and Vignette. \
HELP TO ZION'S TRAVELLERS. By Rev. Robert Hall. With a \
Preface, by Dr. Rvland. Edited by Rev. J. A. Warne. With a beautiful ^
Vignette. \
SCRIPTURE NATURAL HISTORY, containing a descriptive Account \
of Uuadrii|ieds, Birds, Fishes, Insects, Reptiles, Serpents, Plants, Trees, Min- \
erals. Gems, and Piecioiis Stones, mentioned in the Bible. By William \
Carpenter, London. With Improvements by Rev. Gorham D. Abbott. ^
Illustrated by numerous Engravings, also Sketches of Palestine. \
WINCHELL'S WATTS, enlarged, being an Arrangement of all the \
Psalms and Hymns of Dr. Watts. With a Supplement. ^
NATIONAL CHUPCH HARMONY, containing Tunes calculated for \
Public Worsh p, Anthems and Select _Piecesfoj; Fasts, Thanksgivings, ^
Christmas, Mi sionary Meetings, <Stc. By N. D. Gould. New Stereotype \
Edition, enlatged. \
k
»*»
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