The purport of these observations is to shew, that both directly by suppressing the first essential element of religious faith, and indirectly by lowering and narrowing the character of our affections, and of our whole minds, the great overflow of enjoyment in natural life tends necessarily to reduce the power of religion over the minds of men; which, if it be true, will in part explain why that condition of society, which at once multiplies the pleasures of life and greatly protects them from its natural pains, is commonly marked by the decay of religion. ACTION AND THOUGHT. As in the complex structure of advancing society all its offices of life are a thousand-fold subdivided, so the two great offices which comprehend the others, Action and Thought, are divided also; for is not the ground of separation the same? For why do we so much divide the ordinary offices of life?—Is it not because in this way their functions are much more effectually performed?-But why are their functions more effectually performed through this subdivision ?-Is it not because in this way every mind is more entirely intent upon the work in which it is employed?-its faculties more vigilant and skilful?its will more clear and full ?—That work, which to the mind is its sole occupation, commands all its faculties and fills its thoughts,-of that work its lesser occasions acquire importance; its minuter parts swell into dimension: and how strong, how clear, unbroken, and full, is that current of will which flows day by day upon the same avocation!-How wedded, how devoted a thing is the man to that work which is all to him in the world!-Thus Society, dividing her members, and assigning them to her different offices, makes gain upon her work. If the men gain is another question; but undoubtedly she brings power to her work which she could not otherwise command: it is performed with more perfect skill, and she multiplies immeasurably her acquisitions. Do we not retrace the same argument in the division of Action and Thought ?—For what is the man of Action? Is he not one who, at some strong call, springs up in his strength, and goes forth into life? -He goes amongst men to participate in their action; but that is nothing less than the strife of honours, of wealth, and power. There they are, in the might of their passions, with all their strong desires uproused, -with their eager souls on fire,—and all their high faculties and powers brought to service, to be the ministers or instruments of that work of strife; and into the mid-tumult and rage of these fierce-conflicting forces he has thrown himself. What has he to do there if he cannot in turn assail and repel assault ?— What has the man of peace to do there?—He has better and nobler, juster purposes perhaps than they have ; but he must have their strength to fight,—the human strength of human contests. Now, where does that strength lie ?-In what faculties of his being?-In what part of all his nature?—In the passions that blend with life :-in hope and fear, in anger and pride; in the joy of the kindling blood; in the elated consciousness of power; in the passion of rivalry; in the exultation of success. These are the courage and the power by which men are borne through the strife of the world. What if his heart have higher hopes and tenderer loves!-These, too, are sources of strength; but the strength must flow through more ignoble channels. Intellect and pure Will cannot hold their supremacy in their own pure nature. Intellect must stoop to project, to combine, Ima and calculate schemes of this world's success. gination spreads her ethereal wings, and traces her iris-path over visions of this world's wealth; and even the strong beatings of the heart,-the deep and powerful affections,-accept the same destination, and brood over with their vital warmth the thoughts, the hopes, the schemes of worldly speculation. There is required of him an unnatural condition of life, a forced and false state of mind. He that was born with many faculties and powers,―a nature open to the delight of all various existence,-must withdraw from his natural boundless life, and confine the flow of his being to one course, and collect and concentrate its energies upon one of its purposes. He, too, by concentering the force of his purposes upon one part of life, must dilate all its subordinate parts into unnatural and false dimensions; he must confer on them from his mind an illusory importance, that they may possess power over his mind to compel its energy into action. What shall he do with speculative thought?-Shall he relax that energy of his will by which he holds his life? He holds that enchanted sword, which, if it was laid down for a moment before all was achieved, the whole achievement was lost: he sleeps,—but he must wake with the same mind with which he lay down; he sleeps,-but as the chieftain of the hunted clan, with one hand on the pistol, and the other on the sword,-armed in sleep, and awaking armed to peril. What shall he do with thought?-Thought is the silence of the passions, the breathless hush of the |