have since sprung up within us, have still some force in the worst of tempers, and a considerable influence on the best. And, methinks, it is a fair step towards the proof of this, that the most beneficent of all beings is he who hath an absolute fulness of perfection in himself, who gave existence to the universe, and so cannot be supposed to want that which he communicated, without diminishing from the plenitude of his own power and happiness. The philosophers before-mentioned have indeed done all that in them lay to invalidate this argument; for, placing the gods in a state of the most elevated blessedness, they describe them as selfish as we poor miserable mortals can be, and shut them out from all concern for mankind, upon the score of their having no need of us. But if he that sitteth in the heavens wants not us, we stand in continual need of him: and, surefly, next to the survey of the immense treasures of his own mind, the most exalted pleasure he receives is from beholding millions of creatures, lately drawn out of the gulph of non-existence, rejoicing in the I various degrees of being and happiness imparted to them. And as this is the true, the glorious character of the Deity; so, in forming a reasonable creature, he would not, if possible, suffer his image to pass out of his hands unadorned with a resemblance of himself in this most lovely part of his na ture. For what complacency could a mind, whose love is as unbounded as his knowledge, have in a work so unlike himself; a creature that should be capable of knowing and conversing with a vast circle of objects, and love none but himself? What proportion would there be between the head and the heart of such a creature, its affections, and its understanding? Or could a society of such creatures,

with no other bottom but self-love on which to maintain a commerce, ever flourish? Reason, it is certain, would oblige every man to pursue the general happiness, as the means to procure and establish his own; and yet, if, besides this consideration, there were not a natural instinct, prompting men to desire the welfare and satisfaction of others, self-love, in defiance of the admonitions of reason, would quickly run all things into a state of war and confusion. As nearly interested as the soul is in the fate of the body, our provident Creator saw it necessary, by the constant returns of hunger and thirst, those importunate appetites, to put it in mind of its charge; knowing, that if we should eat and drink no oftener than cold abstracted speculation should put us upon these exercises, and then leave it to reason to prescribe the quantity, we should soon refine ourselves out of this bodily life. And, indeed, it is obvious to remark, that we follow nothing heartily, unless carried to it by inclinations which anticipate our reason, and, like a bias, draw the mind strongly towards it. In order therefore to establish a perpetual intercourse of benefits amongst mankind, their Maker would not fail to give them this generous prepossession of benevolence, if, as I have said, it were possible. And from whence can we go about to argue its impossibility? Is it inconsistent with self-love? Are their motions contrary? No more than the diurnal rotation of the earth is opposed to its annual; or its motion round its own centre, which might be improved as an illustration of self-love, to that which whirls it about the common centre of the world, answering to universal benevolence. Is the force of self-love abated, or its interest prejudiced by benevolence? So far from it, that benevolence, though a distinct principle, is extremely

iceable to self-love, and then doth most service en it is least designed.

But to descend from reason to matter of fact; the which arises on sight of persons in distress, and satisfaction of mind which is the consequence of ing removed them into a happier state, are instead a thousand arguments to prove such a thing as a nterested benevolence. Did pity proceed from it ection we make upon our liableness to the same ill idents we see befal others, it were nothing to the sent purpose; but this is assigning an artificial cause = natural passion, and can by no means be admitted a tolerable account of it; because children, and sons most thoughtless about their own condition, incapable of entering into the prospects of futu-, feel the most violent touches of compassion. d then, as to that charming delight which imdiately follows the giving joy to another, or reliev- his sorrow, and is, when the objects are numes, and the kindness of importance, really inexpresHe, what can this be owing to but a consciousness of man's having done something praise-worthy, and pressive of a great soul? Whereas, if in all this only sacrificed to vanity and self-love, as there uld be nothing brave in actions that make the most ning appearance, so nature would not have rewardthem with this divine pleasure; nor could the mmendations which a person receives for benefits ne upon selfish views, be at all more satisfactory an when he is applauded for what he doth without sign; because in both cases the ends of self-love equally answered. The conscience of approving e's self a benefactor to mankind, is the noblest re

e

doubtless it is and the most

own advantage; notwithstanding which, the inclina tion is nevertheless unselfish. The pleasure which attends the gratification of our hunger and thirst, is not the cause of these appetites; they are previous to any such prospect and so likewise is the desire of doing good; with this difference, that being seated in the intellectual part, this last, though antecedent to reason, may yet be improved and regulated by it, and, I will add, is no otherwise a virtue than as it

is so.

Thus have I contended for the dignity of that nature I have the honor to partake of; and, after all the evidence produced, I think I have a right to conclude against the motto of this paper, that there is such a thing as generosity in the world. Though, if I were under a mistake in this, I should say, as Cicero in relation to the immortality of the soul, I willingly err, and should believe it very much for the interest of mankind to lie under the same delusion. For the contrary notion naturally tends to dispirit the mind, and it sinks into a meanness fatal to the godlike zeal of doing good: as, on the other hand, it teaches people to be ungrateful, by possessing them with a persuasion concerning their benefactors, that they have no regard to them in the benefits they bestow. Now, he that banishes gratitude from among men, by so doing stops up the stream of beneficence. For though in conferring kindnesses, a truly generous man doth not aim at a return, yet he looks to the qualities of the person obliged; and as nothing renders a person more unworthy of a benefit than his being without all resentment of it, he will not be extremely forward to oblige such a man.

D. 589.

Author unknown.

Persequitur scelus ille suum: labefactaque tandem
Ictibus innumeris, adductaque funibus arbor

Corruit

OVID Met. 1. 8. v. 774.

The impious axe he plies; loud strokes resound; 'Till dragg'd with ropes, and fell'd with many a wound, The loosen'd tree comes rushing to the ground.

I

"SIR,

AM so great an admirer of trees, that the spot ground I have chosen to build a small seat upon, in e country, is almost in the midst of a large wood. was obliged, much against my will, to cut down veral trees, that I might have any such thing as a alk in my gardens; but then I have taken care to ave the space between every walk as much a wood I found it. The moment you turn either to the ght or left, you are in a forest, where nature preents you with a much more beautiful scene than ould have been raised by art.

"Instead of tulips or carnations, I can show you aks in my gardens of four hundred years standing, and a knot of elms that might shelter a troop of horse rom the rain.

"It is not without the utmost indignation, that I bserve several prodigal young heirs in the neigh