those ungovernable passions which influence a mob is alone incompetent to perceive it. It may happen in two ways: either the fury of popular rule and cruelty is so excessive, so prolonged, and so terrible as to produce its own destruction by an exhaustion of blood, as it were, on the part of the body politic-the murderers are spent with the labour of their murders, and lie down jaded and disgusted—the bloodhound loathes his accustomed scent, and fawns upon the hand which an hour before he would have mangled. By a merciful law of our moral constitution, the very love of crime, if carried to excess, begets its opposite, by a regulation similar to that physical law which allows the courser to run at full speed but for a definite time. The popular mind, which has been stretched like the strong bow to its full tension, is either relaxed or breaks of its own accord; and then comes the hour of retribution. The despot has never so fair a chance of success as when the very acts of his inveterate enemies have just cut and paved his path to the throne-he needs no covert from popular indignation, nor need he come like a thief in the night upon his exhausted victims to quench the last sparks of life; for the disgust and horror which those atrocities have bred, and the dread lest humanity should ever be visited with their re-enactment, furnish him with a rod of iron to extinguish the embers of democracy. It is not under the discipline of a limited monarchy that the scourges of the human race are schooled to their stern work, nor do there generally arise under such governments circumstances productive of characters who live on the miseries and build their thrones on the independenceof nations-not that there do not live in every age and land men fitted by nature to be the Cromwells and Cæsars of the day, but in peace their energies lie dormant, and, like the frozen snake, they are not distinguishable from the inanimate objects around them; but it is in the heat and fury of democratic violence that the despot rears his crest-by the fire of the wretch who housed and restored him to existence he unfolds his torpid frame, and in the heartblood of the sleeping fool whose warmth revived him he infuses his poisoned fangs. Or despotism may succeed an unmixed democracy in another way. Instead of the tyrants destroying the rule of people, the people may be the direct instruments of substituting arbitrary for anarchical power. In the mildest democracy which can possibly exist there must be leaders-in the very bosom of equality there will be superiority. The rabble may talk of equality, claim equality, and may destroy every institution which lies between their levelling system and the equality which they desire; but they seek a chimæra, not a reality-a shadow, not a substance. Nature has no equality society does not, cannot recognise it-never did it exist, never can it. Go into a school, and examine a class of boys, and see if talent be equally distributed! Go into a forest, and look at every tree, and see whether there is any equality between the cedar and the shrub! Listen to two men in argument, both in the same rank in life, both equally well educated, (the one a subtle, shrewd logician; the other dull, obtuse, and stubborn,) and see if God have made them equal! Or let us suppose a company of this very rabble, who clamour so loudly and so incessantly for equality— suppose them assembled for the purpose of maturing some daring revolutionary enterprise-just watch their proceeding for an hour. See some rash empiric, who makes up for a famine of judgment by a glut of rant, propose some wild impracticable plan of destroying all the enemies of freedom in a day, seizing every shilling in the exchequer, and living sumptuously on the plunder. He sits down. Another rises, cool, argumentative, sagacious, persuasive, who exposes the flimsiness, the stupidity, and the rashness of his predecessor's scheme-lays bare the ruinous consequences to which such infatuation would conduct them, and, in the opinion of every one present, triumphantly refutes him, and carries the judgment of his audience to second his own scheme in direct opposition to that of the former. Now where is the equality between these men? We will suppose this company of levellers turned into a convention-what will be the consequence? There are two distinct parties formed, led by two men-the parties follow their respective leaders as submissively as a troop the orders of its captain; they have no will of their own- where is the equality again? In a little time, as in France, one party will become the ascendant; the opposite faction is crushed; the ruling power is vested-where? In the mob? in the conquering majority? No! in the hands of the cool, calculating leader, who has made that majority a slave, a mere tool, a lever to exalt him to the pinnacle of power: some Robespierre, whose rule is more dreaded than the harsh sway of a hundred despots-whose whisper is more terrible than their thunder-at whose name families grow pale, and look around to count if all are safe and who convinces the wretches who raised him to his "bad eminence" that the only equality is an equality of wretchedness, meted out with fearful accuracy to friends and foes. Like the student, in the wild unearthly fiction of Frankenstein, who frames with mysterious skill the huge body of a monster, and finds, after weeks of anxiety and toil, that it breathes and moves-the terrible offspring of his own forbidden art—at once his creature and his scourge the monster lives to terrify the author of its being, scares him from his studies, follows him in his travels, murders his friends, and maddens his brain-its destiny is to torment the soul of its creator; so with the strange working of democracy-it creates a tyrant, and gives him power, which he uses to enslave the people who raised him to his tyranny. The gratitude of a tyrant is proverbial, and generally it is the sternest retribution. B. K. Sonnet. TO MISS E. B. BARRETT. HIGH-GIFTED woman! with true woman's heart, Of souls, who commune with thee in thy lays. M. T. NATURAL THEOLOGY: AN ESSAY READ BEFORE ONE OF THE YOUNG MEN'S SOCIETIES AT GLASGOW. GREAT misconception, we think, prevails, especially among young men, as to the real nature of the evidence which natural theology affords. And hence the reason why so many come back, after having studied the matter a little, rather disappointed. But why are they thus disappointed? Is it because the EVIDENCE is either scanty or mystic? Ah! no. It is because they set out seeking to realize Philip's request, "Show us the Father, and it sufficeth us." And is it any wonder they come back unsuccessful? "Who can by searching find out God; who can find out the Almighty unto perfection?" "No man can see God, and live." Many-too many-think, amid all their opportunities of better information, that when we talk of the eviction deducible from natural theology, we will, by some nicelyarranged process, unwrap the shroud that veils Eternal God, and SHOW Him who is the Almighty, peradventure "walking on the wings of the wind" or "riding upon the storm." Now, it is not EVIDENCE that GOD IS that will satisfy such persons; they must SEE HIM as he is. This, we believe, is the precise point of misconception: this the rock and the whirlpool on which so many founder and go down. They go out to see God, and return disappointed because they see only those things whereby God maketh himself known. It is not want of evidence, but want of sight, that causes such persons to doubt. The foot-print is clear and intelligible, but they WILL NOT BELIEVE unless they see the foot. "No man hath seen God at any time." It is altogether wrong, therefore, to suppose that natural theology, can roll back that curtain which veils Infinite God. It pretends to do no such thing. And this leads us now to inquire, what is the MEANING OF THE EXPRESSION "NATURAL THEOLOGY?" The word "natural," is derived from the Latin word naturalis, signifying something proceeding from, agreeable or belonging to, or something concerning, nature. "Theology," again, is a compound of two Greek words, Oɛog, “God," and Aoyoç, "a word;" so that the meaning of this expression, according to the idiom of the English language, simply is "GOD'S NATURAL WORD." Now, if you ask a Scotchman what he means when he says he has got WORD from a friend, say in India, he will immediately tell you that he means he has got a communication, a letter, a message from such a friend, not that he has come to see him. So with God's natural word. It is a message, a communication from heaven to earth, not a visit; and just as the one proves the existence of a living friend, though unseen, so does the other make clear the existence of a living unseen God! Come, then, let us take a small section of this communication, and try to read the handwriting of Deity! We draw our ARGUMENT FROM THE PROCESS OF DIGESTION. We think it right and proper to remark, on the outset, that it is solely for the sake of blending a little information with our argument of evidence, that we have chosen the subject of digestion as a whole: not that we believe the evidence which it lends is more clear than that which may be gathered from other sources. The human body is composed of many parts, each of which constitutes a separate economy, essentially depending on the whole; while, again, the whole is sustained by a union of all the parts. Internally there is a strong framework of solid bone, on which rests, as on pillars, the superstructure of the body. This building, though complete in all its parts, is not free from waste. For "every single motion, every manifestation of force can only be successfully effected by a transformation of the structure, or of its substance: even every thought and conception is accompanied either by a change in the nature of the secreted fluids or in the substance of the brain itself.”* Now, in order to compensate for this constantly recurring waste, we have the digestive organs preparing, from the food, a nourishment suited to all the wants of the system. Our food, having been selected and prepared, is received into the mouth, where it undergoes a preparatory process, previous to its being conveyed to the stomach, the great organ of digestion. This preparatory process is admirably, as well as mechanically, performed by the teeth and glands of the mouth. The teeth are generally thirty-two in number. The four front teeth are sharp, for cutting, called the incissors; the next is the dog-tooth, for tearing, called the canine; then, last, there are two small and three large grinders, for masticating; the three last are called the molar teeth. Another most important office is performed by the glands of the mouth. Two of these, called the parotid, are very large, are situated between the ear and the angle of the jaw; and their ducts or pipes for conveying the saliva run forward in the check, piercing the walls of the mouth near the second last tooth in the upper jaw. Two others lie immediately under the tongue; and their ducts may be noticed opening on the fold of the membrane that straps it to the under part of the mouth. Another, called the tonsil, lies at the back part of the mouth, is of the size and shape of an almond, and throws out into the throat a kind of bland mucus substance which is secreted in many little cells on its surface. This saliva also possesses the remarkable property of "enclosing air, in the shape of froth in a far higher degree even than soap-suds. This air, by means of the saliva, accompanies the food into the stomach, and there its oxygen (or good properties) enter into combination with the constituents of the food, whilst its nitrogen (or noxious properties) is given out through the lungs or skin. Thus the longer digestion is continued, the greater is the quantity of saliva, and, consequently, of air, which enters the stomach."† "What, then, was it chance that made the skin give way so as to produce a mouth? or, if this happened by chance, did chance also place teeth and a tongue within that mouth? For, if so, why should there not be teeth and a tongue in the nostrils or in the ears? or, to carry on a similar appeal, did chance dispose the teeth themselves in their present order; which, if it were any other than it is, what would be the consequence? If, for instance, the incissors and canine teeth had occupied the back part of the mouth, or the molar or grinding teeth had occupied the front, what use could we have made of them? Shall we, then, admire the skill of him who disposes a chorus of thirty-two men in just order; and can we deny the skill of the Creator in disposing of the same number of teeth in an order so convienient, so necessary for our existence."‡ * See Leibig's Or. Che. applied to Phys. and Path. Gallen, lib. ix. chap. 8, quoted by Dr. Kidd in Bridgewater Treatise. But, again, if you can solemnly look upon all this wonderful mechanism as the result of blind, inert chance, tell me, Did chance so minutely scoop out the saliva channels in the walls of the cheeks, teach them to pierce these walls at so convenient a point, and so arrange the working of their secret springs as not only to bring into active exercise, by the muscular action of the jaws, these glandular bodies, but also cause them to send into the mouth a full flow of saliva at the precise time its agency was required,—did chance do all this? Was it chance, also, that hid, in their secret chambers, the glands that lie beneath the tongue, and that throw out their share unheeded and unseen? Was it chance that endued these glands with the peculiar power of secreting saliva from the very same substance (the blood) in which other glands of the body can only secrete bile or urea,-did chance do all this? Then, if so, you attribute prescience to chance, which fore-knowledge is not in man. Who else could have made such arrangements as these we have just noticed, but He "who knew the end from the beginning," and who, at first, so wonderfully "clothed man with bones, and sinews, and flesh." But to proceed. When food has been thus far prepared by the teeth and saliva, it is so urged back by the tongue that we feel a great inclination to swallow. In its passage backwards to reach the gullet, which is situated posterior to the trachea (wind-pipe), it has to cross the mouth of this air tube, which must be opened every second of time for health. Now, observe, that in order to shield the mouth of this tube or pipe from the liability of particles of food falling into it, we have a fine fleshy cap prepared for it, which, with the weight of the food and the action of the muscle in swallowing, keep it closely covered while anything is passing. This lid or valve is called the epiglottis. In order to render this mechanical contrivance entirely complete and useful, another property was essentially necessary, viz. the power of raising itself when so depressed; therefore, we have it mounted on a peculiar sensitive and elastic spring-hinge, enabling it to rise, of its own accord, immediately after the food has passed. When the nourishment has been thus conveyed back to the gullet, it is not tumbled down that hollow tube, as we are apt to suppose, but is slowly lowered, by means of its peristaltic contractings, to the stomach. And in order to enable this organ to fulfil its important duties with precision and accuracy, we have no less than three great muscles, divided into innumerable small fibres, spread over its walls to assist in this process. Indeed, it may be very aptly represented by a long silk purse, with a number of rings placed at proportionate distances. Suppose the food between the top and the first ring; then the muscle so acts as to drive it from between the top and the first ring to between the first and second rings, by its contracting power, and so on till it thus reaches the stomach, and vice versa in vomiting. How beautiful this arrangement! How great the work! Only think of the myriads of people that inhabit the globe; then think of the Omnipotence required to regulate the working of these hidden wheels in every human being throughout the universe! Can this be chance? You readily admire the skill-you willingly admit the vigour, and energy, and power of the intellect of that man who constructed the throttle-valve of the steam-engine, and so adjusted its minute workings as to regulate the quantity of steam given from the boiler to the engine; we say, you admit that chance could never have done this; and can you, will you, in almost the same breath, say that there is no evidence of infinite skill and unbounded wisdom in the con |