what a new impulse is communicated by the thought that the present life is but the infancy of their being; and that his chief and highest concern is to train them for immortality. A similar impulse must be given to the philanthropist, when he considers that the individuals who share his benevolent attentions are, like himself, passing through a scene of discipline, to a higher state of existence, where they will assume a place corresponding to their rank in the scale of moral beings. The refined philanthropy thus arising, while it neglects no proper attention to the distresses of the present life, will seek chiefly to contend with those greater evils which degrade the moral nature, and sever the immortal spirit from its God. He who judges upon this extended principle will learn to form a new estimate of the condition of man. Amid the pride of wealth and the splendour of power, he may mourn over a being lost to every feeling of his high destiny; and, by the death-bed of the peasant, amid discomfort and suffering, he may contemplate with interest a purified spirit rising to immortality.

II. Next to the power of attention, we have to notice the influence produced upon the affections by Habit. This is founded upon a principle of our nature, by which a remarkable relation exists between the affections and the actions which arise out of them. The tendency of all emotions is to become weaker by repetition, or to be less acutely felt the oftener they are experienced. The tendency of actions, again, as I have shown when treating of

the Intellectual Powers, is to become easier by repetition, so that those which at first require close and continued attention come to be performed without effort, and almost without consciousness. Now an affection properly consists of an emotion leading to an action; and the natural progress of the mind, in the proper exercise of the affection, is, that the emotion becomes less acutely felt as the action becomes easier and more familiar. Thus, a scene of wretchedness, or a tale of sorrow, will produce in the inexperienced an intensity of emotion not felt by him whose life has been devoted to deeds of mercy; and a superficial observer is apt to consider the condition of the latter as one of insensibility, produced by familiarity with scenes of distress. It is, on the contrary, that healthy and natural progress of the mind, in which the emotion is gradually diminished in force as it is followed by its proper actions,—that is, as the mere intensity of feeling is exchanged for the habit of active benevolence. But that this may take place in the sound and healthy manner, the emotion must be steadily followed by the action which belongs to it. If this be neglected, the harmony of the moral process is destroyed, and, as the emotion becomes weakened, it is succeeded by cold insensibility or barren selfish

ness.

This is a subject of much importance,—and there are two conclusions which arise out of it respecting the cultivation of the benevolent affections. The one relates to the bad effects of fictitious scenes of sorrow, as represented on the stage, or in works of

fancy. The evil arising from these appears to be that which has now been referred to; the emotion is produced without the corresponding action, and the consequence is likely to be a cold and useless sentimentalism, instead of a sound cultivation of the benevolent affections. The second is, that, in cultivating the benevolent affections in the young, we should be careful to observe the process so clearly pointed out by the philosophy of the moral feelings. They should be familiarized with actual scenes of suffering, but this ought to be accompanied by deeds of minute and active kindness, so as to produce a full and lively impression of the wants and feelings of the sufferer. On this ground, also, I think we should at first even abstain, in a great measure, from giving young persons the cautions they will afterward find so requisite respecting the characters of the objects of their benevolence, and the impositions so frequently practised by the poor. Suspicions of this kind might tend to interfere with the important moral process which ought to be our first object, the necessary cautions will afterward be learned with little difficulty.

The best mode of contending with the evils of pauperism, on the principles of political economy, is a problem on which I presume not to enter. But, on the principles of moral science, a consideration of the utmost importance should never be forgotten, -the great end to be answered by the varieties of human condition in the cultivation of the benevolent affections. Political science passes its proper boundary when it is permitted in any degree to interfere

with this high principle; and, on the other hand, it is not to be denied that this important purpose is in a great measure frustrated by many of those institutions, which cut off the direct intercourse of the prosperous and the wealthy with those whom Providence has committed to them, in this scene of moral discipline, as the objects of their benevolent

care.

III. The third point which remains to be briefly mentioned is the feeling of moral approbation, or rather the impression of merit, which is frequently attached to the exercise of the affections. This important subject has been already referred to. When the mother, with total disregard to her health and comfort, devotes herself to watching over her child, she is not influenced by any sense of duty, nor do we attach to her conduct the feeling of moral approbation. She acts simply upon an impulse within, which she perceives to be a part of her constitution, and which carries her forward with unshrinking firmness in a particular course of laborious and anxious service. She may, indeed, be sensible that the violation of these feelings would expose her to the reprobation of her kind; but she does not imagine that the zealous fulfilment of them entitles her to any special praise. The same principle applies to all the affections. They are a part of our moral constitution, intended to bind men together by certain offices of justice, friendship, and compassion; and have been well named by a distinguished writer, "the voice of God within us." They serve a pur

pose in our moral economy analogous to that which the appetites answer in our physical system. The appetite of hunger, for example, ensures a regular supply of nourishment, in a manner which could never have been provided for by any process of reasoning; though an exercise of reason is still applicable to preserving over it a certain regulation and control. In the same manner, the various feelings of our moral nature have each a defined purpose to answer, both in respect to our mental economy and our relations to our fellow-men; and in the due exercise of them they ought to be controlled and regulated by the moral principle. The violation of these feelings, therefore, places man below the level of a moral being; but the performance of them does not entitle him to assume the claim of merit. He is merely bearing his part in a certain arrangement, from which he is himself to derive benefit, as a being holding a place in that system of things which these feelings are intended to keep together in harmony and order. In regard to the great principles of veracity and justice, every one perceives this to be true; but it applies equally to the affections more strictly benevolent. The man who lives in the habitual exercise of a cold and barren selfishness, which seeks only his own gratification or interest, has indeed, in some sense, his punishment in the contempt and aversion with which he is viewed by his fellow-men. Much more than this, however, attaches to such a character; he has violated the principles given him for his guidance in the social order; he has fallen from his sound condition as a