thou mightest escape this greater misery. Adopt a course in accordance with my institutions, thy pain shall abate, and thy children shall be free from its effects.'

The heir expressed profound resignation to the will of Jupiter, blessed him for his organic law, and entered upon a life of new and strict obedience. His pain through time diminished, and his enjoyments increased. Ever after he was grateful for the law.

6

of Heaven: It

A feeble voice next reached the vault was that of an infant, sick and in pain. What is thy distress, poor child,' said Jupiter, and of what dost thou complain?' Half drowned in sobs, the feeble voice replied, I suffer under thy organic law. A father's sickness, and a mother's disordered frame, have been transmitted and combined in me. I am all over exhaustion and pain.'— 'Hast thou received no other gift,' said Jupiter, 'but sickness and disease, no pleasure to thy nerves, thy muscles, or thy mental powers?' All are so feeble,' replied the child, that I exist not to enjoy but to suffer.' 'Poor infant,' said Jupiter, my organic law will soon deliver thee, and I shall take thee to myself.' The organic law instantly operated, the body of the child lay a lifeless mass, but suffered no more; its spirit dwelt with Jupiter.

6

The next prayer was addressed by a merchant struggling on the Mediterranean waves, and nigh sinking in their foam. 'What evil dost thou charge against me,' said Jupiter, and what dost thou require?'

'O, Jupiter,' said the supplicant, I sailed from Tyre to Rome, in a ship, which thou seest on fire, loaded with all the merchandise acquired by my previous toils. As I lay here at anchor off the port of Syracuse, whither business called me, a sailor, made by thee, thirsted after wine, stole it from my store, and, in intoxication, set my ship and goods on fire; and I am now plunged in the blue waves to die by water, to escape the severer pain of being consumed by fire. Why, if thou are just, should the innocent thus suffer for the guilty?'

Thou complainest, then,' said Jupiter, of my social law? Since this law displeaseth thee, I restore thee to thy ship, and suspend it as to thee.'

The merchant, in a moment, saw his ship entire; the blazing embers restored to vigorous planks; himself and all his crew sound in limb, and gay in mind, upon her deck. Joyous and grateful, he addressed thanksgiving to the god, and called to his crew to weigh the anchor, set the sails, and turn the helm for Rome. But no sailor heard him speak, and no movement followed his words. Astonished at their indolence and sloth, he cried, in a yet louder voice, and inquired why none obeyed his call. But no answer was given. He saw the crew move and speak, act and converse; but they seemed not to observe him. He entreated, remonstrated, and upbraided; but no reply was given. All seemed unconscious of his presence. Unconscious of his presence! The awful thought rushed into his mind, that the social law was suspended as to him. He now saw, in all its horror, the import of the words of Jupiter, which before he had not fully comprehended. Terrified, he seized a rope, and set a sail. Every physical law was entire, and obeyed his will. The sail filled, and strained forward from the mast. He ran to the helm, it obeyed his muscles, and the ship moved as he directed it. But its course was short, the anchor was down, and stopped its progress in the sea. He lowered the sail, seized a handspike, and attempted to weigh; but in vain. The strength of ten men was required to raise so ponderous an anchor. Again he called to his crew: but the social law was suspended as to him; he was absolved thenceforth from all suffering, caused by misconduct of others, but he was cut off from every enjoyment and advantage from their assistance.

In despair he seized the boat, rowed it into the port of Syracuse, and proceeded straight to his commercial correspondent there, to beg his aid in delivering him from the indolence of his crew. He saw his friend, addressed him,

and told him all his labors to leave the anchorage; but his friend seemed quite unconscious of his presence. He did not even look upon him, but proceeded in business of his own, with which he seemed entirely occupied. The merchant, wearied with fatigue, and almost frantic with alarm, hurried to a tavern on the quay, where he used to dine, and entering, called for wine, to recruit his exhausted strength. But the servants seemed unconscious of his presence; no movement was made; and he remained, as it were, in a vast solitude, amidst large companies of merchants, servants and assistants, who all bustled in -active gaiety, each fulfilling his duty in his own department. The merchant now comprehended all the horrors of his situation, and called aloud to Jupiter. O Jupiter, death in the blue waves, or even by consuming flame, were better than the life thou hast assigned me. Let me die, for my cup of misery is full beyond endurance. Restore me the enjoyments of thy social law, and I hail its pains as blessings.'

'But,' said Jupiter, if I restore to thee my social law, thy ship will be consumed, thou and thy crew will escape in thy boat, but thou shalt be a very beggar; and, in thy poverty, thou wilt upbraid me for dealing thus unjustly by thee.'

'O bountiful Jupiter,' replied the merchant, I never knew till now what enjoyments I owed to thy social law, how rich it renders me, even when all else is gone; and how poor I would be, with all the world for a possession, if denied its blessings. True, I shall be poor; but my nerves, muscles, senses, propensities, sentiments and intellect will be left me: now I see that employment of these is the only pleasure of existence; poverty will not cut me off from exercising these powers in obedience to thy laws, but will rather add new excitements to my doing so. Under thy social law, will not the sweet voice of friendship cheer me in poverty, the ecstatic burst of adoration of thee lift my soul to heaven; will not the aid of kindred

and of my fellow men soothe the remainder of my days? and, besides, now that I see thy designs, I shall avoid employing my fellow men in situations unsuitable to their talents, and thereby escape the penalties of infringing thy social law. Most merciful Jupiter, restore to me the benefit of all thy laws, and I accept the penalties attached to their infringement.' His request was granted; ever after he made Jupiter's laws and the nature of man his study; he obeyed them, became moderately rich, and found himself happier than he had ever been in his days of selfishness and ignorance.

Jupiter was assailed by many other prayers from unfortunate sufferers under infringement of his laws; but, instead of hearing each in endless succession, he assembled his petitioners, and introduced to them the slater, the husbandman, the young heir, and the merchant, and requested them to narrate their knowledge and experience of the natural laws; and he intimated, that if, after listening to their account, any petitioner was not satisfied with his condition, he would suspend for him the particular law which caused him discontent. But no application followed. Jupiter saw his creatures employ themselves with real earnestness to study and observe his institutions, and ever after they offered up to him only gratitude and adoration for his infinite goodness and wisdom.

CHAPTER IX.

ON THE RELATION BETWEEN SCIENCE AND SCRIPTURE.

SINCE the first edition of this work was published, objections have been stated that the views maintained in it are at variance with Revelation, and hostile to the interests of Religion. It is gratifying, however, to know, that they have not been urged by any individual of the least eminence in theology, or countenanced by persons of enlarged views of Christian doctrine. On the contrary, many excellent individuals, of unquestionable piety and benevolence, have widely recommended this work as containing the philosophy of practical Christianity, and have aided in its distribution. It is therefore rather on account of the interest of the inquiry itself, than from any feeling of the necessity of a defence, that I enter into the following discussion of the relation between Scripture and Science; and as in a question of this nature authorities are entitled to great weight, I shall commence by citing the opinion of one of the most learned, talented, and accomplished divines of the present day, the Archbishop of Dublin.

A few years ago, a Professorship of Political Economy was founded in Oxford by Mr. Drummond, with a novel constitution. The professor holds his office for only five years, and it is a condition that one lecture, at least, shall be published every year. Dr. Whately, now Archbishop of Dublin, was the second individual elected to the chair, and, in compliance with the statute, he, in 1831, published eight lectures on the science. They are introductory in their character, being intended chiefly to dispel popular prejudices against political economy, and to unfold its