truth, in speculation, in order that he might attain the useful, the whole useful, and nothing but the useful, in practice,—if they are indeed sound, ought to have influence to the end of time, under like circumstances; and that the speculatist ought to push his speculations so far, but assuredly no farther than will produce practical good. I ought rather to say he should urge his speculations on others, whether in private or in public, no farther than this rule admits; and be honest and cautious in applying it. However noble and delightful an employment of intellect the diligent and honest inquiry into truth may be, (and assuredly Socrates could have neither motive nor inclination to depreciate it,) the cautious, careful, earnest seeking after good is far more noble.

There is one argument which appears to have great weight in reference to the effects we propose to accomplish by altering popular opinion by our speculations. Even the Power of the Creator seems limited by the imperfection of his materials. Even his Goodness appears not to have a clear field for its full display; and the very triumph of his Wis

dom is seen in educing such good out of his materials as their present state allows them to yield. (If this raises a doubt in some, it is only by their own fault. It is hope for the future, it is systematic improvement for the present, which read this lesson to us aright. I do not pretend that all doubt can thus be solved. It is sufficient for us that there is hope. What man may dare to say that there cannot be solution? But the point to which I would draw attention is this.) Is not this manifest imperfection a lesson for the speculatist? Can he act on a principle, not of perfectibility but of actual perfection, on which even Almighty Power has not thought fit to act; because, (whatever be the reason,) it is, according to the present system, manifestly a false principle. The Speculatist is always in danger of attempting to start from an ideal point (which, after all, is not speculative truth, though it will prove practical falsehood)which others have not attained, and from which therefore they cannot proceed. Besides this, he supposes himself working with means which imply unrestricted power, having no need

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of wisdom. The Speculatist may indeed do this safely in theory; and it is not only a noble and elevated speculation, but is necessary for the attainment of a higher, and, if we may so express it, a truer truth than practice can attain, to contemplate the moral machinery working, as if in vacuo, without friction, and to suppose ourselves in possession, not only of a perfect analysis, but an unfailing synthesis in moral chemistry. But Socrates might teach us that as the practice of this is restricted in physics, so is it restricted in morals. Ever the question must be, not what can we conceive, but what will our materials permit. We cannot think, feel, or imagine men into riches, knowledge, virtue, or happiness. We cannot, even, think, feel, or imagine the means by which these may be obtained into greater effectiveness than they possess. We cannot change them; and can only improve them, by limited increments of good and decrements of evil; although we certainly do not know the sum to which these increments and decrements will reach in all time. By attempting to change we

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may lose; by attempting to improve more rapidily than the time admits we may spoil. He who would proceed too fast, and he who would proceed too slow, is equally foolish; and is in danger of becoming also criminal. I do not believe more assuredly in my own existence, than I do in the facts and principles which tell me the Divine Power, Wisdom and Goodness shall have their more and more perfect work. The idle steam and the useless mineral of one age, turned into the almost unlimited power of another, is only one instance out of thousands. And, if in arguing against too bold theorising, I may venture a theory, perhaps the success of a benevolent experiment, (which has shown what may be done by the smallest contributions), may be a lever to convert the violence of this country into the power of another, by giving it room to expand. But with whatever hope we may look forward to the future, our only chance of realising that hope, or rather of not converting it into the bitterest disappointment, is to know accurately the nature of our materials, and what we may expect from them.

The motives which induced Socrates to express his religious feelings and opinions as nearly as possible in the worship and belief of his country, were, for the reasons we have assigned, dictated by a sound Philosophy. But they were no less dictated by a true Piety. Socrates possessed that Catholic mind to which all truth was congenial. Was it a divine sight, or rather the deep penetration of a sound philosophy, which enabled Socrates to discern in many errors of opinion traces of higher truth - whether deep-rooted in the first principles of human nature, or, besides this, transmitted to us unconsciously from man's first origin? This Piety, or Prudence, enabled him to distinguish the sound and true feelings of Religion, from the multitudinous errors in opinion with which they have been blended. He could discern the purer instincts of conscience in the imaginary dicta of superstition. In the unauthorised fables of mythology, he could see the comforts of the truest hope, and the warnings of the truest fear. The instinctive scrupulous respect with which he was conscious of regarding these feelings, as he must have been