first day, when the Sun, which is its fountain, was not created until the fourth?" With respect to that system of progression manifested in the creation, it is presumed, that the first day's work may be looked upon as being prelimi Moon as the ostensible causes of the variation of day and night, that all things might conform to the general order of the universe. This seems to be the answer to your question.-The Light which existed previous to the creation of the Sun, was created by the same power that would have en-nary to the work performed on the five dued the Sun with the property of emit- following days. If so, the light proting it. It was maintained in exist- duced on that day must be admitted ence by the same power which created within the circle of that consideration, it, without the intervention of any and, with equal propriety with the visible cause or agent. When living other things then created, be considerbeings, endued with perception, were ed in its first stage on the way to perto be placed in the world, the Creator, fection; particularly when it is obwith the same regard to regularity served by us, (though it is no object which he observed in the rest of his with the Almighty) that the heavenly work, exhibited the Sun, Moon, and bodies are believed far to surpass, in Stars, as the ostensible causes of the point of magnitude, that of our Earth, variation of light and darkness.-As which God in his wisdom thought proan objection to this hypothesis, it may per to take six days in perfecting. The be asked, Why were they not cre- word "made," as used in the 16th ated at first?” To this I reply, There verse of the 1st chapter of Genesis, is was no occasion for them; there were indefinite, as to the matter of which the no creatures who would be affected by Sun and Stars are composed, and the their influence. We hear of no heat time of their being called into existexisting previous to the creation of the ence; and it may be viewed as applying Sun: and one principal use for which to the Light created on the first day; the Sun and the heavenly bodies are then undergoing that particular modiplaced in the firmament is, to be for signs, fication, or, at that time, being "made" &c. Again: "Why was the distinction out of their former, to assume their between day and night made at all, present appearance; and, therefore, when there were no beings who would may as reasonably induce us to bebe affected by them?" God, no doubt, lieve, that the substance of the Sun and contemplated the commandment which Stars was previously existent, as to he would give to his people on a future suppose that it was created on the day; in which he says, "For in six fourth day, when the luminaries with days the Lord made the heavens and which we now behold the skies decothe earth," &c. Now, had not the suc- rated were made. This position may cession of days and nights been made, be fairly reconciled, by the fact of a similar to that which was apparent to human body being " produced" before men, when this sentence was pro- the body of Eve was "made;" yet nounced, it is obvious what a confu- Eve may, with as great a degree of sion it would have caused, and how propriety, be accounted the fountain incompatible it would have been with of human nature, as the Sun can be the spirit of regularity that pervades the the" fountain of light," when the universe. stars are believed to shine by their own native lustre. AGRICOLA. On Primeval Light. TO THE EDITOR OF THE IMPERIAL If we were to suppose, that the Sun and Stars were created on the fourth day, independently of, and without having any reference to, the Light, which appeared on the first day, we should SIR, find ourselves under the necessity of BEING led by the following inquiry, believing, that God differed (verse 4th) contained in your second number, into with the opinion he had previously enan investigation of the account handed tertained of his first day's work; that down to us of the first and fourth days' he then saw it defective, and therefore work in the Creation, I beg leave to sub-cancelled the decree of the first, to give mit to your consideration the annexed place to that of the fourth day; which opinions in answer to the question, would be in pointed opposition to the How could Light be produced on the ideas we entertain of the infinite wis SIR, I have been, for some time back, in the Letter from a Mexican Chief, &c. I am afraid, my valued Phraar, when you make your intended visit to these countries, which fame had given us so high a character of, and drawn in such inviting colours, that you will find many more objects to disappoint, than delight you; more to gaze at, than admire; and much to excite your pity, while there is little to attract your esteem. You would suppose, that kingdoms, which all the world pronounced so near to the goal of human knowledge and perfection, had resigned to the uncivilized and the ignorant, all the follies which degrade, and all the vices which debase, our nature; and that while they aspired to, and almost enjoyed, a seat on the pinnacle of human wisdom and knowledge, they would leave vanity and vice to the pursuit of us, whom they consider as barbarous; and that in the relinquishment of these, consisted their superiority and perfection. But how will you be surprised when I tell you! I can well conceive your disappointment when you find, that our nation, which we thought so fallen in dignity and virtue, has much juster claims to them than these. Virtue appears too simple to associate with so much art. She seems offended with men of so much knowledge; and, preferring to dwell with Nature in the woods of the uncivilized, and the huts of the savage, she has left these wretches to struggle under the tyrannical dominion of vice. As I know that the discovery of human degeneracy would only afflict your benevolent heart, I shall abstain even from alluding to the depravity of this corrupt people; and confine myself entirely to those national follies, which, as they are less fatal, we shall feel less sorrow to review. * * * * There is one strange, and perhaps unhappy, propensity pervading this entire cluster of civilized nations; which, as they say, discovers, by its advances, their progress to refinement. I mean an insatiate thirst for novelty: an appetite which seems only to increase by gratification, keeping invention perpetually on the stretch, and feeding, with the utmost liberality, those who have much fancy, but little understanding. Some new object of attraction they must always have; some glittering bubble of any person's blowing, (Paris manufacture, to be sure, is preferred,) which they may admire this moment, and break the next; some fantastic gewgaw, to which the same caprice gives birth and death with the same wantonness of humour. No matter how empty the bubble, or how con| temptible the gewgaw, if new, it is an object of adoration, for its novelty disguises all its deficiencies. The admiration and the age of such objects are always in an inverse ratio;† the first diminishes as the last increases; for admiration and novelty are coeval and coexistent; and the first dwindles into indifierence, as the last, by habitude, loses what gave it interest. My friend, I believe, has read Shakespeare, and probably has taken this hint from the love which Gertrude bore to his father, he Hamlet's first soliloquy, where, in alluding to says," Why, she did hang on him, as if increase of appetite did grow by what it fed on." †This is the term of science to which I alluded. As this frivolous and unbecoming disposition only discovers itself among these civilized nations, I have been induced to think, that politeness and folly are inseparable companions, and visit a nation precisely at the same æra. And reason seems to concur in proving, what common observation perhaps sufficiently warrants: for, as civilization and the fine arts go hand in hand, fancy and the arts are closely connected, and fancy is one of the parents of novelty. This foible, however, is attended with some advantages, (but what general vice or misfortune is not?) since it affords an opportunity for the exertion of those superficial and trifling qualities of the mind, of which nature has been so lavish, while she has been so frugal of the higher powers: hence, a livelihood here, can as easily be obtained by the fancy, as by the understanding. This propensity to be always changing, and to dislike every thing but what is new, discovers itself in every possible way:-in shows and entertainments, and in every thing either of public or private concern. But the chief department in which this Proteus loves to sport, is, the art of dress. Here, variation fatigues a stranger, by its perplexing repetition: here, there are no bounds to their inconstancy. Change is perpetually the order of the day; change is their delight; change is their subsistence: they live on it, and their love of it must be gratified. The present dress always sits uneasy, and every change seems only to increase their dissatisfaction. Before one is completely on, they try another, looking in vain for that perfection in it, which they seem destined never to attain. Hence, after all their discoveries, they have only the melancholy satisfaction of seeing, that, notwithstanding the labours of their ancestors, and their own toils, they are still mere novices in this important art; and they have every reason to think, that their unhappy posterity will be doomed to make the same complaint, unless pristine barbarity shall happily intercede, and redeem them from the miseries of hope deferred, and expectation protracted and fruitless. In this free and happy country, where Liberty, we were told, had built her temple, and resolved to reside, we expected that freedom existed in trifling matters as well as the most important; No. 5.-VOL. I. and that every individual might be allowed to follow his own taste, and cut his hair or pare his nails as his judgment or his inclination directed: but this would be too extensive a privilege. If they have political liberty, it is enough. To shew their refinement, they must be slaves in their dress; and every individual, under the severest penalties, must conform to laws which are perpetually changing, and yield unqualified obedience to the dominion of prevailing fashion. Paris, the capital of France, is the mainspring and source of all this folly and fluctuation in dress. It is the hotbed in which every fashion and novelty is propagated. Here invention resides: here is erected the throne, where Inconstancy sits in triumph, and smiles around at the officious obedience and the true devotion of her subjects. Mutability! thy name surely is Paris.* Surely, that place has been designed for a theatre, where the world might see how far one human folly might be extended, and exhibit to mankind an object for their contempt, rather than an idol for their adoration. The nations around are at present under her discipline, and they receive instructions in the art of dressing, gratis. The term of guardianship, I imagine, will soon expire; for they seem now qualified to invent for themselves, and may therefore be dismissed, at any time, from the tutelage of that kingdom. From this centre of ideal delight, the rays of enlightened folly diverge to the neighbouring nations, to illuminate and refine them. Here some idle and fantastic head, of noble descent and ideas, proposes some new change in apparel. He adopts it; and the whole city is in a ferment, till it has made the same reform. The news is blown hot across the channel, to our imitative friends in London, who become immediate converts to a reformation, recommended by the discerning Parisians; at the same time, blowing the bubble over the Irish Channel, to the civilizing metropolis of that kingdom. That a change so fleeting, may be fashionable in all places at the same time, the utmost expedition is necessary in transferring it; and as it requires a considerable time to transport it over so many channels, and so *This is another proof of my friend's acquaintance with Shakespeare. 2 F much land and water, it frequently cools by the way; and the good people of Dublin are often seen to adopt a new fashion, at the very time that it is receiving its dismission at Paris; and the gentry in the country towns and villages of the kingdom, are frequently enjoying a mode, which is several degrees removed back from the one then reigning at the source. They have always several dresses, fashionable for the same period; and in these they make hourly changes. If a lady were seen in the morning and evening with the same dress, she would be looked upon as a mad-woman. I don't know with what severity she would be treated, if she sat down to two meals in habits of the same make; but to loll in a carriage in the same dress that is worn in the house, would be deemed the most decisive symptom of degradation in taste, or of relapse into barbarism. The ladies, however, are not universally changeable. I shall treat them with candour: for I am not of that envious and malignant nature, which has only learnt to reproach, and cannot bear to applaud, even where merit is obvious and eminent. There is at least one instance of constancy for which I must give them credit; and there is one fashion, to which they have been most attached and faithful: the promise, I hope, and the dawn, of returning sense and wisdom. he will have the goodness to answer in a future number. From his description of the machine it appears, that the two hindmost wheels are fixed upon the same axle; consequently, as they must always revolve at the same time and with the same velocity, they will always pass over an equal distance in the same time. Now, it is a well known fact to any person of observation, that the outer wheel of any carriage, in turning a corner, must necessarily pass over a greater space of ground in the same time than the inner one; and in some cases they will move in contrary directions. How will Mr. S. effect this?-In my opinion, whenever the traveller has occasion to deviate from a direct line, he will be obliged to alight, and forcibly drag his vehicle round, in order to continue his route. SCRUTATOR. Your's, &c. Rochdale, June 22, 1819. REPLY TO THE ABOVE. B. SMYTHE has been favoured with the letter sent by SCRUTATOR, of Rochdale, to the Editor of the Imperial Magazine, respecting the means of guiding his "British Facilitator, or Travelling Car;" and he takes this method of informing Scrutator, that the original drawing, previous to being sent to the engraver, had a nut on one end of the axle, and a linchpin on the other, to shew that one of the hindwheels was to remain fixed, and the other loose, so as to turn on the axle similar to any of the gig-wheels in present use. By this means, the car will turn a corner with the same facility as any other vehicle. Since publishing a plan of the car, and description of it in the Imperial Magazine, B. S. has made a considerable improvement in the simplicity of guiding his car, which he has no objection whatever to communicate to any person who may wish to try the utility of his vehicle; provided such communication is not attended with any expense to himself. since they profess to support their own put in opposition; and in the last, we 66 "If reason be a gift of heaven, and we can say as much of faith, heaven has certainly made us two presents, not only incompatible, but in direct contradiction to each other. In order to solve the difficulty, we are compelled to say, either that faith is a chimera, or that reason is useless."Diderot, p. 4. The sophistry of this passage appears obvious, by the author's being compelled to offer a solution in the choice of two absurdities. Thus, if reason and faith be gifts of heaven, one must be a chimera, or the other useless, because it is assumed that they are incompatible. The postulate must therefore be absurd in argument: let us see if it be not so in fact. Reason is a faculty of the mind; but faith is an act of the mind. There is, therefore, this distinction: the faculty is power; but the act is the result of power. Now, the faculty, which is power, is the gift of God; and the grace of faith also is the gift of God, that is, the power to believe: but the act is a man's own, resulting from the power which God gives. Inasmuch, then, as reason is a faculty of the mind, and faith an act of the mind, they cannot be incompatible; for the mind cannot act independently of its faculties; and because what is contrary to reason a man cannot believe, no act of faith incompatible with reason can ever take place. Wherefore, to say, "that reason and faith are not only incompatible, but in direct contradiction to each other," is absurd, both in argument and fact. I am aware, Sir, it might be objected, notwithstanding, that we read of persons under delusion that believe a lie, which might seem to contradict my argument; but these either cannot reason, or they reason falsely. In the first instance, reason and faith are not PUDICUS. TRENGROUSE'S LIFE PRESERVER. ALTHOUGH there is no department of life which can exempt mankind from danger, it is exceedingly obvious, that some occupations are far more hazardous than others. We can, indeed, easily conceive, that under the superintending providence of God, there is no situation into which our fellowcreatures can be brought, that will place them beyond the reach of the Divine protection. We ought not, however, when we make these calculations, to lose sight of the general course of the divine economy. God rarely acts towards his intelligent creatures, but through the instrumentality of means. These he has connected with the end; and the powers with which he has endued the human mind, may be considered as that intermediate link, through which, means can be rendered efficient in the production of those ends, which, thus applied, they are calculated to secure. He, therefore, who neglects to use appropriate means, can never reasonably hope for the attainment of those ends which he has in view; and unless we exercise those powers with which the Almighty has been pleased to favour us, we can neither use the former, nor secure the latter. Among the departments of danger in which human beings are engaged, there is scarcely one more perilous than that which the ocean presents to our view. The occupation of a mariner is almost inevitably connected with a waste of human life. Scarcely a week clapses, in which we do not hear of individuals having been brought to an untimely grave, through the turbulence of this boisterous element; and too frequently we read of shipwrecks, in various parts, in which hundreds of our fellow-creatures, and even of our country men, are in a moment precipitated into eternity, accompanied with circumstances of horor, on which the feeling mind cannot |
