infinite wisdom, power, and goodness; when we trace out by the light of science the laws which govern the material world, and observe the order, and harmony, and wonderful adaptation of all, from those, which form the sparkling diamond in the mine, or prepare the volleyed lightning, or generate the terrific earthquake, or direct the motions of the ocean, up to those, which hold the planets in their spheres; when we turn our thoughts within us, and endeavour to learn what we ourselves are, and consider the nature and capacities of our minds, and feel the divinity, as it were, stir within us; when we look abroad at the curious displays of human invention in the arts and arrangements of life, and see how man has acquired dominion over the earth, and the sea, and the air, and the water;-how is it possible, I say, when we contemplate such things, not to look up with awe, and admiration, and gratitude, to the First Great Cause of all these blessings? How is it possible not to feel, that we are an emanation of that eternal Spirit, which formed and fashioned us, and breathed into us a rational soul? How is it possible not to read for ourselves a higher destiny, where our powers shall be permitted to expand in endless progression, and continually witness new wonders of the divine perfection? Surely, in the contemplation of such things, we may well exclaim, "Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty; in wisdom hast thou made them all."

DISCOURSE III.*

I SHOULD have hesitated to address you on the present occasion, if it had been supposed to involve any peculiar or extraordinary duties. I have not the leisure to mature a discourse, which should invite the attention of the learned by the extent of its views, or the depth of its investigations. The necessities arising from the constant pressure of professional engagements would alone be sufficient to induce me to decline the task, even if more obvious considerations did not lead me to the same result. He, who would address himself to those, who have cultivated literature with eminent success, or who have travelled, not merely through the broad ways, but the intricate mazes of science, must feel, that he has many things to do, before he can suitably meet the just expectations of his audience. It is not for him, under such circumstances, to place entire reliance upon the resources of his own mind, however comprehensive they may seem to be. It is not for him, under such circumstances, to draw exclusively upon his own genius or imagination for views original, or attractive. He may not rest even on the powers of eloquence (if he should happen to possess them) to adorn his topics with the beauties of an animated diction, or the graces of a vivid style. His thoughts may be brilliant, without being just; or just, without being striking; so as to lead to the bitter sarcasm, that his discourse contains many things new, and

Introductory to a course of lectures before the families of the professors in Harvard College, delivered in Holden Chapel, December 23, 1830.

many things true; but the new is not true; and the true is not new. The least of his anxiety, however, should be, under such circumstances, to be original; for who can, without rashness, imagine, that, after the lapse of so many ages, in which the lives of so many of the brightest of human minds have been devoted to the cause of science; who, I say, can, without rashness, imagine, that little of truth has hitherto been gathered, and that her ample stores are, for the first time, about to be revealed to his sight? If he should indulge in such a vain and dreamy self-complacency, he would painfully learn, that other minds had already anticipated almost all his peculiarities of opinion and comment; that antiquity had exhausted them in its captivating literature, never yet excelled, and perhaps never to be excelled; or that modern science, by its exact experiments, had put to flight whatever of theory might float round his own physical researches.

No-under such circumstances, he could rely securely on nothing, but the results of deep and various study. He would seek to fill his mind with the thoughts of others, and elevate his own conceptions by making them the familiar spirits of his hours. He would feel it necessary to invigorate his own powers, by giving his early and his later vigils to the profound meditations of the great men of other days. He would endeavour to comprehend the large conceptions of Lord Bacon, and, by following the method of induction, pointed out by his wonderful mind, he would invite nature to disclose her mysteries, and aid him in the analysis of her inexhaustible stores. He would meditate-but it is unnecessary to dwell on such considerations. Enough has been said, and more than enough, to teach us the difficulties of such a task; and to demonstrate that time, as well as diligence, and patience, as well as strength, are necessary to the successful accomplishment of such an achievement.

As I comprehend it, the design of our meetings involves no such complexity of effort or attainment. The lectures, which belong to the brief course sketched out for these walls, belong to a humbler, and more facile

duty. It is our design, not to sound the depths of any portion of science or literature, but to bring together some of the truths, which lie on the surface; not so much to seek for buried treasures, as to unfold those, which are known and approachable; not so much to display rarities, as to bring together the useful and the simple; to present what may not be unworthy of the contemplations of manhood, but yet may lie within the reach of the playfulness of youth. In short, we are here to listen to thoughts, which are so familiar to the wise, that they come almost without bidding, and are dismissed without question or criticism. The poet has told us in two lines, of the masculine brevity and strength of the best days of English verse, (borrowed indeed from classical sources,) the whole of our case :—

"Content, if here the unlearned their wants may view,
The learned reflect on what before they knew.

And narrow and humble, as such a scheme may seem to those, whose leisure can command the range of science, or whose ambition would soar to the boundaries of literature, there are some local considerations, which render this not undesirable or unimportant in the circle of our families and friends. We live, indeed, in the midst of academical scenes, where learning has for ages secured the public reverence. We are encompassed with the means and the instruments of science on every side. A noble library, the gift of the munificence of the living, as well as of the dead, looks down upon us with its ponderous and speaking volumes. A philosophical apparatus, which at once lifts our thoughts to the heavens, and busies us with the motions and the changes, the powers and the laws, of the material universe, is within our apparent grasp. We need not call upon the earth to open upon us her minerals and geological treasures; for our cabinets are enriched with many of her most valuable, as well as most attractive specimens. We seem as if within the very purlieus of the laboratory, where chemistry, no longer dealing with occult arts and preternatural sorce

ries, contents herself with solving and resolving bodies, with combining and separating the elements and the gases, and unfolding the phenomena of light and heat, and, as it were, giving a local habitation and a name to her endless wonders. The very bell, which so often rouses us in our morning slumbers, seems for ever vocal with annunciations, inviting our presence to the rooms, where learned professors pour forth their stores upon the interesting topics of divinity, and physics, and metaphysics, and rhetoric, and oratory, and botany, and anatomy, and the philosophy of nature, and the mysteries of art. And yet, in the midst of all this profusion, our families seem in some danger of starving for want of intellectual food. If they cannot count themselves among the matriculated; if their age, their sex, their pursuits, or even their retiring modesty, forbid them from entering upon these scenes; they are compelled to forego all that curiosity and taste would covet, to nourish their home resources; and they are left to consume their time in the monotonous round of common duties. In a larger society, their very wants would soon work out a remedy, to relieve them from such embarrassments. The evil felt in the family circle would extend to the head; and thus, as in large cities, public lectures would be multiplied, at once to stimulate and to satisfy the desire for knowledge. But here, if I may so say, the very evil has its origin in the ample employments, and devotion to science, of the heads of our families. They, who labour abroad with so much success and ability, require all their domestic leisure to recruit their exhausted spirits, or to prepare themselves for ever recurring labours. I speak, therefore, to the sober sense of those whom I address, when I say, that there seems a peculiar duty on us to give those of our families and friends, who are necessarily precluded from the general cultivation of science, some chance of understanding its elements, and relishing its truths, by the only adequate methods, the demonstrations of the laboratory, and the living examples of the lecture-room. Truth from the lips is often felt with double sway; but truth, confirmed by experiment, is not only irresistible in its