Nic., lib. ix., cap. viii.) This view appears to me eminently just.

That man is not, in the true and proper sense, a self-lover who seeks his present at the expense of his future and permanent well-being, or who tramples upon the rights and happiness of others, intent only upon his gratification. The glutton, the drunkard, the debauchee, are not the truest lovers of self. They stand fairly chargeable, not with too much, but too little regard for their own happiness and wellbeing.

Not the only original Principle.—But while the desire of happiness is a principle which has its foundation in the constitution of the mind, and which is characteristic of reason and intelligence, it is by no means to be regarded as the only original principle of our nature. Certain moralists have sought to resolve all other active principles into self-love, making this the source and spring of all human conduct, so that, directly or indirectly, whatever we do finds its origin and motive in the love of self. According to this view, I love my friends, my kindred, my country, only because of the intimate connection between their well-being and my own; I pity and relieve the unfortunate only to relieve myself of the unpleasant feelings their condition awakens; I sacrifice treasure, comfort, health, life itself, only for the sake of some greater good that is to be thus and only thus procured; even the sense of right, and the obligations of a religious nature, which bind and control me, find their chief strength, as principles of action, in that regard for my own happiness which underlies all other considerations.

Such a View indefensible. This is a view not more de rogatory to human nature than inconsistent with all true psychology. That the principle under consideration is one of the most powerful springs of human conduct, that it enters more largely than we may ourselves, at the time, be aware, into those motives and actions that wear the appear ance of entire disinterestedness, I am disposed to admit,

nor would I deny that our sense of right, and of religious obligation, finds a strong support in that intimate and insepa rable connection which exists between duty and happiness. The Scriptures constantly appeal to our love of happiness as a motive to right action. Their rewards and promises on the one hand, and their warnings and threatenings on the other, all rest on this assumed law of human nature, that man everywhere and always desires his own well-being. But that this is the only and ultimate ground of human ac tion, that all the benevolent affections, all honor, and virtue, all sense of duty and right, all religious emotion and religious principle resolves itself into this, neither reason, nor revelation, nor the closest observation of the human mind, do either teach or imply.

This Desire, in what Sense rational. Stewart's View. — We have spoken, thus far, of the desire of happiness as a rational principle. Is it, in such a sense, peculiar to a rational and intelligent nature? Does it so imply and involve the exercise of reason, that it is not to be found except in con nection with, and as the result of, that principle? If so, it can hardly be called an original and implanted, or, at least, an instinctive principle. And such is the view taken by Mr. Stewart, in his Philosophy of the Active and Moral Powers The desire of happiness implies, in his estimation, a deliberate and intelligent survey of the various sources of enjoyment, a looking before and after, to ascertain what will, and what will not, contribute to ultimate and permanent well-being; and this it is the part of reason to perform.

Not exclusively so. That the desire of happiness, as ex ercised by a rational nature, involves something of this pro cess, some general idea of what constitutes happiness, of what is good on the whole and not merely for the present, some perception of consequences, some comprehensive view and comparison of the various principles of action and courses of conduct, as means to this general end, may, indeed, be admitted. And, so far as the exercise of self-love

is of the nature now indicated, it is certainly a rational rather than an instinctive act. But I see no reason why one and the same emotion, or mental activity of any sort, may not be, at one time, the result of reflection, at another, of impulse; now deliberate and rational, and now, instinctive in its character. We know this to be the case, for example, with the affections, both benevolent and malevolent. A principle of action may be none the less instinctive, and originally im planted in man's nature, from the fact that, when he arrives at years of discretion, his reason confirms and strengthens what nature had already taught, or even adopts it as one of its own cardinal principles. It is not necessary, in order to all desire of good, that I should know, completely and com. prehensively, in what good consists, and I may still desire my own happiness, according to the measure of my knowl edge and capacity, when I simply know that I am happy at the present moment.

Desire of continued Existence. Closely analogous to the principle now under consideration, if not, indeed, properly a form or modification of it, is the desire of continued existence. No desire that finds a place in the human bosom, perhaps, is stronger or more universal than this. Life is valued above all other possessions; riches, honors, place, power, ease, are counted as of little worth in comparison. There are, indeed, occasions when life is willingly sacrificed, rather than to incur dishonor and reproach, or for the defence of the innocent and helpless who depend on us for protection, or for some great and good cause that demands of the good and true man such service as may cost life. Even in such cases, the importance of the interests which demand and receive such a sacrifice, show the value we attach to that which is laid upon the altar.

Increases with Age. - The desire of continued existence seems to increase, as age advances, and life wears away. We always value that the more of which we have but little. It is a striking proof of the divine benevolence, that, in a

world so full of care, and toil, and sorrow, as the present is, and must be, to the multitude of its inhabitants, there are few so miserable as not to regard continued existence as a boon to be purchased at any price.

SII. - DESIRE OF KNOWLEDGE.

An original Principle. - Among the various principles that enter into the composition of our nature, and are the motive powers of the human mind, awakening and calling forth its energies, and impelling it to action, the desire of knowledge holds an important place. From its early manifestation, before reason and reflection have as yet, to any extent, come into play, and from its general, if not universal existence, we infer that it is one of those principles originally implanted in our nature by the great Author of our being.

Not Curiosity. The desire of knowledge, though often spoken of as synonymous with curiosity, is not altogether identical with it. Curiosity has reference rather to the novelty and strangeness of that which comes before the mind. It is the feeling awakened by these qualities, rather than the general desire to know what is yet unknown. It is of more limited application, and while it implies a desire to understand the object in view of which it is awakened, implies also some degree of wonder, at the unusual and unexpected character of the object as thus presented. While, then, curiosity is certainly a most powerful auxiliary to the desire of learning, and stimulates the mind to exertions it might not otherwise put forth, it is hardly to be viewed as identical with the principle under consideration.

Manifested in early Life. - The desire of knowledge is never, perhaps, more strongly developed than in early life, and never partakes more fully of the character of curiosity than then. To the child, all things are new and strange He looks about him upon a world as unknown to him as he

is to it, and every different object that meets his eye is a new study, and a new mystery to him. The desire to ac quaint himself' with the new and unknown world around him, keeps him constantly employed, constantly learning.

In later Years. As he grows up, and the sphere of his intellectual vision enlarges, every step of his progress only opens new and wider fields to be explored, beyond the limits of his previous investigations. If there is less of childish curiosity, there is more of earnest, manly, irrepressible desire and determination to know. His studies assume this or that direction, according to native taste and temperament, carly associations, or the force of circumstances; he becomes a student of science, or a student of letters, or of art, or of the practical professions and pursuits of life; but turn in what direction and to what pursuits he will, the desire to know still lives within him, as a sacred lamp ever burning before the shrine of truth.

Explains the Love of Narrative. Every one has remarked the eagerness with which children listen to stories, histories, and fables. This is owing not more to the love of the ideal, which is usually very strongly developed in early life, than to the desire of knowing what presents itself to the mind as something new and unknown, yet with the semblance of reality. Nor does this love of narrative forsake us as we grow older. We have still our romances, our histories, our poems, epic and tragic, to divert us amid the graver cares of life; and the old man is, perhaps, as impatient as the child, to go on with the story, and comprehend the plot, when once his interest and curiosity are awakened.

A benevolent Provision. We cannot but regard it as a benevolent provision of the Creator, so to constitute the human mind, that not only knowledge itself, but the very process of its acquisition, should be a pleasure. And when we consider how great is the importance to man of this desire of knowledge, and how great is the progress of even the humblest mind, from the dawn of its intelligence, on to the period