Examine the two impressions. They may be compared to the traces left by the same intaglio on two different substances the one substance too solid to yield to the pressure, or receive the mould of the sculpture, exhibits nothing perhaps but the oval outline of the stone-whilst the other, possessing the right consistency, and coming in contact with every portion of the substance, receives and retains its perfect image, and exhibits, it may be, lineaments which express all that mind can grasp in thought, or feel in tenderness. The mind of the one traveller has come in contact with every part of the action, and bears away accordingly the impression of the whole; the mind of the other was incapable of coming in contact with the whole, and of course has received a most imperfect and partial impression. We can only know the qualities of things by corresponding susceptibilities in our own minds. The absence of the susceptibility of fear absolutely incapacitated our traveller for understanding danger, and consequently for comprehending the generosity of the stranger's interference, or for perceiving that there was any thing

joyful in his own deliverance. The actions of men are not to be considered as mere external shells, or dead carcasses-they in so far resemble those who act them, that they have a spirit and internal life, as well as an outward form-and that this spirit constitutes their character. Of course then we do not understand nor believe a moral action, whilst we do not enter into its spirit and meaning: and we can only enter into the quality of its spirit, through the excitement of the corresponding susceptibilities of our own minds. In morals, we really know only what we feel. We may talk about feelings which we never experienced, and perhaps even correctly enough; but it is just as a blind philosopher may talk about colours.

1

I have here put the extreme case of the total destitution of a particular susceptibility, and in such a case there can be no doubt of the result. But it is no less clear, that, even when there is no absolute destitution, there must always be a relative proportion between the degree of susceptibility possessed by the mind, and the capacity for understanding and believ

ing in facts which address these susceptibi

lities.

There is a considerable analogy between faith and memory, which may serve to il lustrate the character of both. As faith accompanies the exercise of the different faculties by which we acquire a knowledge of things external to ourselves, as a judge of the reality or non-reality of the objects which produce the impressions of which the mind is conscious; so memory accompanies these same faculties as a judge, whether the impressions made on them are new to the mind, or have been present to it before. It is quite evident that no blind man could be said to remember a colour-and that no man whatever could be said to remember what he never received an impression of.

belief of that obguard against beA number of men

We see, then, that the impression, which any object makes on our minds, whatever that impression may be, sums up and de fines our knowledge and ject. We ought then to ing deceived by names. may receive impressions from the same object, and all these impressions may be different, and yet each of them will give to his

own impression, the common name of the object which produced it. An indifferent hearer may, when he listens to their story, suppose that they all know and believe the same thing; but a judicious and curious questioner might discover from their own mouths, that amongst the whole, there are not two impressions alike. Compare, by way of a broad instance, the belief of a moss-rose entertained by a blind man—a man without the sense of smell-and a man in the full exercise of his external senses. There are evidently three different impressions made on these three minds, that is, there are three different beliefs; and yet there is but one name given to the three, and that is, the name of the object, to which they all refer.

Every object is composed of many parts and qualities, but all these subdivisions are summed up in the name given to the object which is their aggregate, and he who uses the general name is presumed to imply all the parts belonging to it. Thus a pillar of a hundred feet in height is talked of as if it were one and indivisible, whereas it consists of an infinite number of parts,

the existence of each of which may be a distinct subject of knowledge and belief. A blind man who runs against it, knows and believes in a few square feet of it; but he does not believe in the remaining feet, for he has received no impression from them. After he is informed of the dimensions of the pillar, he believes in a quite different thing from what he did before; or rather, perhaps, to speak more correctly, he believes in a number of things which he could not believe in before, because his mind had not come in contact with them.

In the same way, actions which combine a variety of parts are commonly talked of as indivisible unities, although each motive may be a distinct subject of knowledge and belief, and by its presence or absence make an important change in the general impression. The name remains the same, but the ideas are very different.

The Gospel is a general name likewise for an object which consists of several parts, and contains various appeals to the moral understanding of man. But this general name may cover a great many different impressions and beliefs-and yet there is but