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Hindoo Superstition.—Atheism an Absurdity,

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Extract of a Letter from a Gentleman in Calcutta, to his Father in London.

"I have lately been an eye witness of a most melancholy transaction, the sad consequence of the ignorance and superstition that reign in Indostan. I saw an aged man throw himself into a pit ten feet deep, and half full of combustibles, which had been set on fire. This man made himself a voluntary victim, to preserve, as he thought, the lives of his children, who were at the time attacked by a dangerous and epidemical distemper.

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up the hole with earth, so that the old man might be said to be burnt and buried alive. Two of the children were present, one seven and the other eight years old; and they alone, of all the spectators, appeared to be affect ed. As to the women, they went home with the greatest sang froid. Such an event being an object of glory to the relations; the day on which a wretched victim to superstition is thus selfdevoted, is a day of triumph to his whole family."

ATHEISM AN ABSURDITY.

ONE of the arguments used, to prove the existence of a God, is this-whereever there is a manifest contrivance and design, there is, or there must have been, an agent who could contrive and design: but in the appearances of nature in general, and in the construction of the human frame in "When this distemper breaks out particular, there is manifest contriamong the Hindoos, they believe, most vance and design; therefore there is, religiously, that one of them must die or there must have been, some agent, to save the rest. This poor man was who has designed and contrived the thoroughly persuaded that the lives of appearances of nature in general, and his children could not be preserved if the construction of the human frame he did not offer himself up as a sacri- | in particular." I have seen an objecfice for them. I used every argument tion started against this argument, of with himself, his wife, his brothers, which the following is an accurate and sisters, to convince them of the copy,absurdity of such an opinion, and the guilt of suicide, but in vain; they were deaf to my reasons; and, thinking at last that I intended to prevent by force this horrible sacrifice, they threw themselves at my feet, and begged, with tears in their eyes, that I would not oppose the resolution of the old man!

"The self-devoted victim being seated on the brink of the pit, raised his hands to heaven, and prayed with great fervour. After he had remained half an hour in that posture, four of his nearest relations help him on his legs, and walked with him five times round the pit, all of them calling upon Mam and Setaram, two of their saints. During this ceremony,the women were tearing their hair, beating their breasts, and roaring in a most horrible manner. The four relations at last let go their hold of the old man, who immediately threw himself into the pit, and not a groan was heard from him. The bystanders had each a spade in his hand, and immediately began to fill

The Theists assert that the structure of the universe in general proves its divine original; that the being called man, displays so much contrivance and design, both in the faculties of mind and body, that he must have been created by a superior beinga being possessed of greater power and wisdom than himself. Granted. What follows? If man, possessing moderate power and wisdom, would not have existed unless he had been created by a being superior to himself, much less could that being have existed unless he had been created by a still superior being-that being by another, and so on, ad infinitum-the difficulty increasing tenfold with every link of the chain. Thus the very argument which tends to prove that God created material and rational beings, proves at the same time, a fortiori,that he himself must have been created, i. e. it proves nothing at all."

Upon the argument, and upon this objection or reply made to it, I beg

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leave to submit the following observations :

1. All that the argument proves, all that the argument professes to prove, is, not that the being who made nature, and made man, is benevolent, or holy, or wise, or even powerful; but simply, that there is a being who can contrive, who has made nature, and the body of man. I consider, therefore, that those terms in the objection which ascribe wisdom, superiority, &c. to the being whose existence is denied, however they may affect other arguments, affect not this.

2. The argument ascribes to the appearances of nature, and to the body of man, no qualities of excellence, perfection, exquisiteness, &c.; it simply ascribes to them the character of intention, contrivance, and design. So that to say the contriver does not exist, because the contrivance is not perfect, is saying nothing that touches the argument. I do not say that the contrivance is perfect, but that there is a contrivance. I do not argue to the perfection of the contriver, but to his

existence.

3. That which the argument rests upon, and that which it alone needs, is the contrived organization of material substances. I did not know that the advocates for the existence of God had ever argued that existence from mind or spirit as their data. Dr. Paley does not. He may refer to the faculty of thinking, to prove or illustrate the attributes of God; but the proof of his existence the rests wholly upon the adaptation and contrivance in the organization of material substances; and certainly nothing more is necessary, at least nothing more is used in the argument under consideration. When, therefore, the objector says, "that the being called man displays so much contrivance and design, both in the faculties of his mind and body," he is either replying to an argument totally distinct from that before us, or he is introducing a ground of sophism. I greatly suspect the latter. I do not attribute contrivance to the faculties of the mind. I say nothing about either the mind or its faculties; they form a subject concerning which nothing is here predicated.

Upon close inspection, the fallacy of the reply will be found to lie herethe objector confounds organized substances with faculties of mind; where

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as the argument rests exclusively upon the former. A material substance with contrivance in its organization, proves that there must have been a contriver; and if that being who contrived, be also material, and organized, and contrived; he must, for the same reason, have resulted from another being who can contrive. But it does not follow, that because a material substance, contrived in its organization, must have had a contriver, that, therefore, that contriver is a material substance: on the contrary, it is asserted that that contriver is unorganized and immaterial; and, consequently, this argument, which proves the existence of such a being, by no means proves that he was either created or contrived.

After making these observations, I beg leave to pursue the argument in a somewhat different way.

The first proposition, viz. "Whereever there is manifest contrivance and design, there is, or there must have been, an agent who could contrive and design," I regard as self-evident; a proposition to which the Atheist himself does not object. We can as well conceive an effect existing without a cause, as conceive a contrivance existing without a contriver. But the second proposition, viz. “That in the appearances of nature in general, and in the construction of the human frame in particular, there is manifest contrivance and design," is that which the Atheist treats as vulnerable and fallacious. It is not now my object, and neither is it necessary to adduce numerous instances from animated nature, to prove that in that nature there is plan and device, an ingenious arrangement of parts, and an adaptation of means to an end-one shall suffice. If any man can sit down, and examine with the eye of science and philosophy the structure and operation of the eye; if he can have a clear perception of the position, purposes, action, movement, &c. of its cornea, its humours, its pupil, its fibres, its retina, and its nerve; and if with this scientific examination, and this clear perception, he can assert that the eye manifests no contrivance, presents no ingenuity of structure, no accommodation of means to an end, with such a man the argument is at an end-he must assert on, and none can contradict him-he is entrenched in the last resource of a

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Atheism an Absurdity.

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puerile argument, a mere ipse dixit! | be the author of rational souls, as well We conceive then, that the conclusion is invincible; and that it follows, with all the evidence of sound reasoning, "that there is, or there must have been, some being who has devised and contrived the works of nature in general, and the body of man in particular."

It is now the business of sound argument, and true philosophy, to discover the agent who has thus invented and contrived. We have before us a manifest purpose and design; this design must have resulted from chance, or from necessity, or from some being possessing intelligence and power. Design, resulting from chance, is a contradiction in terms. Necessity cannot be the contriver; for, if necessity have any existence at all, it only exists as a law; but law cannot devise, cannot act; it is only a rule by which a something else devises or acts. This design then must have resulted from some agent, from some cause, possessing intelligence and power.

Up to this stage of the argument, I hope it may be pronounced clear and safe. Of the being possessing intelligence and power, whose existence we hope is legitimately made to appear, we say, that either he is uncaused and eternal, or he is the produce of some other being. I am aware that the Atheist will suppose he is overturning all my preceding argumentation, by proving or saying that this being himself must have been caused by some other being, and that being by some other, and so on ad infinitum. But if it can be made out that this involves a gross contradiction, the point is gained.

To my own satisfaction, and, I have the vanity to think, to the satisfaction of every close and impartial reasoner, it has been fully shown, that it cannot be argued, that this being was formed and was contrived, on the same ground that we argue that the works of nature were contrived and formed: the works of nature are material, and mechanically organized; and from that, it is inferred, that they must have emanated from a being possessed of invention and power; but that being himself is supposed to be immaterial and unorganized, and it does not follow from any thing in the argument, that he is not so. But as this being is allowed to

as organized bodies, it is still required to show reason why he himself is not caused and produced? why, as the human spirit has resulted from some spirit, that spirit has not resulted from some other spirit, and so on ad infinitum?

I believe the person, who maintains the non-existence of Deity, will readily, nay exultingly allow, that the subject now resolves itself into this question,-" Is the chain of causes and effects eternal, or is there a first cause?" It is to me utterly inconceivable, that without a first cause, there could ever have been any cause at all. To this it will be answered, that I might as well say, that there would be no duration, because there was no first duration. But the cases are not parallel-duration is uncaused, simple, indivisible, and infinitecauses and effects are caused, dis tinct, and divisible, or at least they are not one. But I do not stand upon this ground; and neither have I any thing to do with the common allusions to "a suspended chain, and a string of blind men." I flatter myself I have hold of something more solid and argumentative than either. There must be a first cause; for an eternal chain of causes and effects involves a gross contradiction. The following is my proof:

No axiom in geometry is more clear than the following positions,-Of two things, one of which causes, and the other is caused by it; that which causes, must exist before that which is caused. If there are two things, and one of them existed before the other, both cannot be eternal. That which is true of every part must be true of the whole. Now, here is a chain of causes and effects, i. e. a succession of things producing, and of things produced; and it is allowed, that the things which produce existed before the things produced; and both are asserted to be eternal; consequently, one eternal thing must have existed before another eternal thing,which is absurd. Take any one thing that causes, and the immediate thing that is caused by it, and it is allowed that the former must exist before the latter; and what is thus allowed of the thing that causes, and the thing that is caused, is allowed of every thing that causes and every thing that

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On the Sonnets of the Rev. Wm. Lisle Bowles.

is caused; and yet it is asserted that both are eternal? i. e. that one does and does not exist before the other, -which is a contradiction.

The gentleman, whose reasonings gave birth to the observations contained in these pages, is represented as an eminent mathematician: he is therefore perfectly familiar with this axiom,-"Things equal to one and the same are equal to one another." Let eternity be the thing given. Now if causes, i. e. the things which cause, are equal in their duration to eternity, i. e. are eternal,-and effects, i. e. things caused, are equal in their duration to eternity, i. e. are eternal-the things which are caused must be equal in their duration, i. e. must have an existence parallel with the things which cause, which is impossible. It follows, that causes and effects cannot both be eternal,-it follows, that the chain of causes and effects is not eterernal, it follows, that there must be a First Cause.

ON THE SONNETS OF THE REV. WM.
LISLE Bowles.

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the unaffected effusions of an amiable and classical mind. They do not aim at loftiness of thought, nor at that highwrought versification which is so conspicuous in the present day, but they are the sweetest that ever were written. They indicate a heart susceptible of the tenderest impressions; they display the workings of pure sympathy, and that pensiveness of thought which pervades the whole, and renders them a source of the truest pleasure. They were his first compositions, and this will in some way account for the melancholy feeling with which they are imbued. It is something peculiar to a youthful and tender heart to contemplate the world before it as a scene of trouble, and ever to have an idea of approaching trial. The imagination is then warm, the passions are in their spring, and the best sympathies of human nature have not been warped by the cares and anxieties of the world. It sees the many too often sacrificed to the few; it reads that even men of genius have perished through poverty and neglect; and it is ever ready to conclude, that although even some of the worthless may gather the lilies and MR. EDITOR. roses, yet the briars and brambles in SIR,-It may seem an useless occupa- the path of life are all that remain for tion to make any remarks upon those it. Much of this is doubtless imagiwritings which have obtained an emi-native, but it has been felt by almost nentstation in the literature of our coun- every youthful poet. try; their merits have been discussed, Many of Mr. Bowles's sonnets seem and there is in the general but one opini- to have been produced by such sensaon as it regards them. Yet it not unfre- tions: there is, however, a wide differquently happens, that while the best ence between those feelings which and more elaborate productions of a arise from tender reflections upon huwriter may be fully known and appre-manity, and the cold gloom of misanciated, a few pieces are in some de- thropy. The one casts a calm and gree overlooked, from their forming steady light around it; the other is but a small portion of his labours. Mr. the irresistible stroke of lightning. Bowles has written much, his writings The one, if it sometimes deepens the have gone forth into the world, and colours in the picture of life, discloses they cannot now be either lowered by to us scenes of inimitable beauty; the criticism, or exalted by panegyric. other represents all as the desolating There is one part, however, and it is blast of the hot simoom. The one tells but a small part of his works, which al- us of the world as it is; the other as it though on its first publication it receiv- is not. There is surely nothing cened no small share of the commendation surable in this sadness, arising from it merited, is not now perhaps so ge- such views of life; for how often has nerally known. I mean his Sonnets. the hand of genius been raised in vain, They were the first I ever read, and while the voice of ignorance has prenever shall I forget the impression vailed; and how many a youth deservthey made; they seem to me more asing of the good opinion of mankind, the recollections of days that are past, and in each do I discover one of the friends of my early years.

Mr. Bowles's sonnets are written in the purely sentimental style, they are

has been suffered to remain almost unnoticed, while the wicked heart and the vacant mind has succeeded. Besides, the evils which exist in the world furnish sufficient materials for

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On the Sonnets of the Rev. Wm. Lisle Bowles.

the contemplatlve mind, and it therefore cannot be strange that so much of our best poetry has this train of pensiveness throughout. In some of the sonnets before us, however, there is a tinge of the happiest feelings blended with this; and they appear to have been penned in moments when the heart could fondly dwell on the days that were past, although it well knew they were never to return.

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To think that time so soon each sweet devours;
To think so soon life's first endearments fail,
And we are still misled by hope's smooth tale,
Who, like a flatterer, when the happiest hours
Are past, and most we wish her cheering lay,
Will fly as faithless and as fleet as they.

Every one must see the beauty of these lines, and have at some season experienced the feelings they convey. There is a melancholy pleasure in revisiting those scenes where we have been happy-perhaps too happy-and of dwelling on the recollection of those we loved, when they are gone, never, never to return. The paths we once traced bring them more vividly to our

that sweet, but short-lived friendship, all those thousand acts of kindness which the heart ever remembers, and would not willingly forget. Such associations give us to feel, that although time may steal from us objects upon which we had hung our hopes, and rob us of many a tender endearment, that there is at least something of peace to be gathered even from our sorrows. I will instance another sonnet from Mr. Bowles, in a different strain, and upon a subject that has not often been so sweetly treated.

The path of no one is ever so barren a desart, but that there is at least some floweret to gladden him on his way, if it be but a wild one; and there is scarcely any man who would sacri-imagination, and place before us all fice the remembrance of some endearing scene, could it buy him forgetfulness for every moment of misery he has endured. How many fond associations, how many tender recollections, how many sweet resting-places in his journey through life, cannot the most destitute look back upon, and feel that the evil has not always overbalanced the good. If Mr. Bowles has not in these beautiful specimens given us any of the elevation of Milton, or the strength of Wordsworth, he has touched upon those tender strings which vibrate in every bosom, and struck the general chord of humanity. He has awakened those feelings which are common to every heart, and while other writings are prais'd for their lofty conceptions, these will be loved, and cherished, and wept over.

It would be unnecessary here to make any remarks on the proper structure of the sonnet, or of its fitness for the English language. Mr. Wordsworth has completely triumphed over the difficulty usually attached to the legitimate sonnet, of which he has given many specimens: we must recollect, however, that it is with him in the hand of a master. It appears to be peculiarly adapted for the development of melancholy feeling, and by its restriction to fourteen lines, to be well suited for the expression of a single idea. But it is time to give an extract from Mr. Bowles, and the following will perhaps shew how far these remarks are correct.

As o'er these hills I take my silent rounds,
Still on that vision which is flown I dwell;
On images I lov'd-alas, how well!
Now past, and but remember'd like sweet sounds
Of yesterday.-Yet in my breast I keep
Such recollections, painful though they seem,
And hours of joy retrace; 'till from my dream
I wake, and find them not; then I could weep

left,

O Poverty! though from thine baggard eye,
Thy sheerless mien, of every charm bereft,
Thy brow, that Hope's last traces long have
Vain fortune's feeble sons with terror fly;
I love thy solitary haunts to seek :
For Pity, reckless of her own distress,
And Patience, in the pall of wretchedness,
That turns to the bleak storm her faded cheek,
And Piety, that never told her wrong,
And meek Content, whose griefs no more rebel,
And Genius, warbling sweet ber saddest song,
And Sorrow, listening to a lost friend's knell,
Long banish'd from the world's insulting throng,
With thee and thy unfriended offspring dwell.

That this is an universal picture, we are not required to believe, but there are instances in which it will apply with all its force. It is the province of poetry to exaggerate, and not merely to describe things as they are, but as the heart in its happiest moments would have them to be. Mr. Bowles always casts a beautiful halo around scenes the most trying in themselves, and, by a divine alchemy, renders them a source of the tenderest thoughts. His sonnets are not composed of thoughts that breathe, and words that burn," but they are the poetry of the heart, and such as will ever find admittance to the susceptible mind. There is much beauty and delicacy of feeling in the following:

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