exist between phenomena, which appear together or in succession: the latter are more strictly called cause and effect. Thus, for example, a greater application of force, of weight, of fire, or of light, uniformly causes a greater motion, or pressure, or heat, or illumination, increasing according to ascertained laws in each; and this with such accurate certainty, that such effects can be increased at pleasure, and in exact conformity with the nicest calculations. This certainty and uniformity of variation distinguishes the relation of cause and effect from mere sequence, which, by a strange infatuation of oversight, has been confounded with it by Hume. Considered in this view, it is at the same time, and by the same principle, the foundation of all art and of all right reasoning. In fact, the calculation which regulates the construction of a watch with its due regulation of various mechanic forces or of a steam-engine, with its added applications of chemical knowledge, is an instance of both. The certain effects from the nice measurement of causes, and the nice and subtle processes of reasoning which lead to, and are verified by them, most fully and adequately establish the required connexions. And the more thoroughly, since you must observe that these are not casual instances of consequence, but of its uniform variation regulated by the will, and in unerring conformity with the minutest and most intricate reasoning. "This constant relation between trains of reasoning and these variations, is all that we are here concerned with. It establishes that relation which subsists between causation and right reasoning, as applied to facts. Observation, experiment, and the conscious power of acting at will, are thus the data upon which the theory of probability rests." To the whole of this paragraph we take objection. From the paragraph immediately preceding, we find that he does not regard every relation of existence as one of cause and effect. Here we find that all relations of coexistence are indicated by a uniform and coordinate variation; and even with this limitation he will not admit the relation of the phenomena which appear together to be strictly that of cause and effect. Thus to constitute this relation, it is necessary that there should be a uniform and constant variation, and, besides, a sequence in point of time. We confess that we are by no means satisfied with the theory that asserts that our idea of the relation of cause and effect is nothing more than one of constant and invariable sequence. From observing this, the mind may infer causation; but it does not confound the two ideas, which are essentially distinct. Let us suppose two perfectly unparalleled phenomena in nature to be found constantly to appear, the one following the other, might it not be possible for a common cause to be assigned, and no relation be supposed to exist between the two effects, although the one never should appear without the other? But we are as little satisfied with Mr. Wills' theory of constant and coordinate variation. Does Mr. Wills mean to assert that the relation cannot subsist where the things admit of no degrees, and where, consequently, we should suppose there can be no variations ? But the entire language of the paragraphs that treat of this subject is obscure; and, if we may judge from some hints of a future essay upon the question, the theory is, perhaps, one which he had but lately formed, and which had not rested long enough in his mind to be corrected and digested into shape. re Still less are we satisfied with his attempted application of his general principle to the establishment of the truth of the results of reasoning; if we understand him right, the relation of coexistence between causation and right reasoning is proved by the experiments that verify the results of mechanical or scientific calculation. Not to mention that both causation and right reasoning are lations themselves, we apprehend that the mind as naturally and as confidently reposes in the calculations of its own reason as in the evidence of the senses, which must testify to the result of the experiments which Mr. Wills requires to support them. If the philosopher rejoices when the results of his deductions are verified by experiment, it is not because he doubts the truth of the calculating process, but because he distrusts his own correctness in its application. It is not our intention, however, to attempt any discussion of these abstruse and perplexing points-an enquiry into which would lead us into metaphysical speculations, the barren inutility of which would be strangely contrasted with the deep and practical utility of the investigations through which Mr. Wills himself has been our guide. It would be like turning from the reaping of the harvest to pursue the butterfly. Of the general merits of the volume it is unnecessary for us now to reiterate the high opinion which our readers must long since have perceived we entertain. Many years have passed since a work was issued from the press equally calculated to serve the cause of Christianity, and to set the honest, but self-deceiving sceptic upon the right path towards conducting the most momentous enquiry upon which the human intellect can be engaged. SYLVE.-NO. III. THE REVERIES OF A WALK AT NIGHTFALL. I will go forth among the woods, and learn, All One happy hour, my soul! one happy hour! Of evil days that time hath garlanded. One hour for thought or tears! Ye gloomy scenes, Ye stay my Spirit's wandering. There is power Up to the beaming heavens on nights like these. The stars enlarging as it bounds aloft ; It hears the pean of the choir that peal Their thunderous music round the Eternal's throne; It hovers on those regions uncreate Which only Thought can reach, or God inform- That bounds the Living Universe, and hurls This very Eve, An hour since, did I stand in musing mood, My whole soul-as I watched the sinking orb- A scene how beautiful! Small, shadowy clouds, Hung in the western heaven; and to my thought Had taken the landscape up where Earth had left it! Their regal pall above the buried sun; Sweet Earth! I loved thee Ever, and Man! I learn to love thee now; Losing the fretful littleness of Life In the o'erwhelming sense of Him who gave it. Thou world! How beautiful beneath the glimmering gaze Night in the Forest! I have rushed amid From the bleak rock there bursts a laughing child, A sparkling infant babbling his bright way Along in waves of interwoven light. The sun rests gladly on him, and the stars Traced on his heaving breast. Oh, richly pure, Fragrant with blended breath of flowers, the air Tones-yet I know not whence-from the high clouds So wildly piercing, that I've listened lost, There is no solitude for man! Once more, All hail, thou glorious darkness, trembling transport, These trees are urged not by a breeze, but seem The life-blood from the heart! But this is past, Of innocence like childhood's fresh from heaven! (Vocal while all the voiceless woodland dreams) For ever more unheard! 'Twas midnight, and the stars of heaven Revealed in glory stood, And every star he watched on high Was mirrored in the flood. How pleasant," dreamed the raptured boy, Through all those fields of light with her How blest our starry hours would glide In joys unknown to earth; Oh, would that Heaven had made those skies His sad gaze drooped-he saw the stream— The same blue vault that beamed aloft, "I cannot dart to heaven," he cried, He plunged, the gorgeous dream was o'er, The cruel stream that lured the child Oh thus, oh thus this false cold world Till crushed beneath its treacherous tide, But Night's expanse of lustrous darkness grows W. A. B. HIBERNIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS-ÉLEVENTH NIGHT. THE next night was rainy and tempestuous. The captives, listening to the wind without, as it whistled dismally through the embrasures and battle ments of the surrounding walls, gathered round their hearth, awaiting the arrival of their keepers with more than usual resignation. "It is something to have a roof over one's head on such a night as this, even though the door be bolted on the wrong side," said Henry. "We would not be long without better shelter if the bolts were drawn," said Art; "yet many a poor wretch tonight would be glad to change places with us, for the sake even of such dry quarters." "For one night he might," replied Henry; "but the first glimpse of sunshine through the bars of his window in the morning, would make him rue his bargain speedily. Oh, Heaven! it is enough to set one crazy to see the tops of the Dublin mountains basking in the sun of a clear day, seeing just enough of them to know that there are running streams there and fresh banks of heather; and then to think that you are here built up in stone and lime, like a lintel or a doorpost in the wall- I have been dreaming of the green fields every night for the last week." • "And I dreamt last night that the Deputy had put us into a dungeon ten |