the formet, none are better fitted to discipline the understanding than the metaphysics. The subjects which they present for examination are exactly those about which the mind is apt to be curious, at a time when its curiosity is unprejudiced, before it has received a particular direction from worldly interests and habits. They are neither, like geometrical studies, so perfectly abstruse as to connect themselves very rarely with the practical pursuits of life; nor, like political inquiries, apt to become vulgar and unscientific from a multitude of local details and temporary interest. They form, beyond all other sciences, reflective habits of mind. In other pursuits, these are for the most part exercised only in forming general conclusions; but in the metaphysics the whole process is reflective. Reflection is requisite for observing the phenomena on which we are to reason: it is requisite for separating, comparing, and combining them; it is requisite ultimately for ascertaining the laws to which they are subjected. To all this must be added, that while other sciences require a considerable apparatus of books, and opportunities of general information, the metaphysician carries the materials of his art constantly about with him. They are perpetually present and ready for his use; pernoctant nobiscum, peregrinantur, rusticantur;" and the most vulgar incidents of life, which only distract the thoughts of other speculators, furnish to him not unfrequently occasions for examining anew the principles he has

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established, and supply hints for their enlargement, illustration, or correction.

The considerations last mentioned are nearly allied to others of still higher importance. A branch of the metaphysics (as we have already observed) borders upon ethics, and embraces the study of those internal principles which evidently are of a moral nature. Such are love, compassion, sympathy, generosity, gratitude, courage, and the like. Surely if self-discipline be important, and if man possesses in any degree the power of directing or regulating his own emotions, that science cannot be useless which introduces us to a more perfect acquaintance with ourselves; which lays open to us the very springs of action; which discloses not merely the full-grown thought or inclination, but the secret cell where its seed was deposited, the soil where it began to germinate, the neighbouring affections to which its young fibres first attached themselves, and from whence, perhaps, they drew their chief nutriment. It is principally on this account that almost all the best practical writers on religion have been metaphysical. They are not satisfied to shew what is the meaning or what the extent of any precept; but they endeavour to trace the avenues by which it may be conducted to the recesses of the heart, and to detect the principles of our nature to which it has the nearest alliance, or from which the most obstinate hostility may be expected. Any one may satisfy himself of the truth of this, by opening at hazard

the practical works of Baxter, Owen, Leighton, Watts, Witherspoon, Edwards, and reading on for a few pages. Many a pious man, who has been accustomed to run on against metaphysics with more zeal than knowledge, might undoubtedly be convicted (to his great surprise) of being himself pretty deep in that science; which he would be found to have studied through a large part of his life, not indeed very systematically, but to a much better purpose than a considerable majority of those who have written upon it the most abstrusely. Many pious persons might also be found, who, in part at least, for want of that knowledge which metaphysics would have given, deceive themselves in many things of great practical importance; are insensible to the growth of the most dangerous associations; mistake the real sources of their errors in conduct; confound the more amiable natural dispositions with the evidences and fruits of sanctification: or remain insensible to dormant principles of sin, (which they might have discovered and mortified,) till a powerful temptation draws them forth to a terrible and fatal activity..

These are some of the advantages which may fairly be considered as belonging to the cultivation of those studies which are commonly called metaphysical. To all this, and to whatever else has by different writers been urged in favour of such pursuits, the common reply is, that "they are exceedingly dangerous; they make men sceptical." Now it is natural to ask the many worthy and respectable

persons by whom this objection is made (what perhaps they have not always recollected to ask themselves), "What is it you mean by scepticism?" If that word is used to denote a habit of mind slow and cautious in forming its conclusions, sufficiently distrustful of itself to be desirous of knowing what can be urged against the inferences which it inclines to adopt, and even so far diffident of its performances as to be perfectly willing, upon the appearance of new lights, to re-examine those positions which had been adopted upon no slight investigation if this, or any thing like this meaning, belongs to the word scepticism, we cannot hesitate to say, that those who object to the metaphysical studies on such grounds, pass upon them, in the form of a censure, a very high eulogium. There is hardly any habit more pernicious, not merely in scientific researches, but daily and hourly in every department of life, than that loose indolent way which men have of jumping upon their conclusions in all sorts of subjects, and accepting, almost without examination, sentiments and maxims of the most extensive practical import. If, on the other hand, by scepticism is intended a disposition of mind unfavourable to the cordial reception of the truths of religion, upon what evidence is it asserted, that metaphysical studies have the tendency imputed to them? Was Locke a sceptic? Was Clarke a sceptic? Was Berkeley a sceptic! All these great men not only openly professed their belief in Christianity, but thought they could not

better employ their best years and maturest faculties than by consecrating them to the defence of those truths, which thoughtless, licentious men are apt to deride, but which it is the peculiar character of a truly elevated understanding to feel and venerate. Bishop Berkeley, in particular, was led to the adoption of his peculiar theory in metaphysics, principally from an anxiety to refute the sceptics of his day, whose reasonings were all founded on the received opinions respecting a material world: and in the work which he entitled "The Minute Philosopher," he has discussed at large all the prevailing objections to natural and revealed religion, and employed much of his metaphysical learning, particularly his important discoveries respecting vision, and his very fine and original speculations on the nature of language, as materials for replying to those objections. Mr. Hume, indeed, whom every body knows to have been sceptical enough, has applied that term to characterize the Berkeleian theory. But let Berkeley speak for himself, and in his own writings, not in the commentaries of his scholars; and it will be found that he dogmatized (we do not mean in the invidious, but in the proper sense of that word) as steadily as Zeno or Epicurus; though perfectly free from the austerity of the one, and the pride of the other. In later days, symptoms of an unfavourable disposition towards Christianity have certainly been visible in the works of some of the most celebrated metaphysical writers in Scotland, and upon the continent; and this probably is the