the understanding acts, and all incorporated things are found. But what is time? and what is space? At first they seem to be very comprehensible; for they are the conditions of all existence. They seem almost like finer elements in which we float; and it is by opening our eyes and attending to our own consciousness, that these ideas enter the mind. But what is time? What do we mean by equal periods of duration? It is one of the most puzzling questions, I ever asked myself. Time can be only measured by time, as extension can only be measured by extension. Two parts of extension you can bring together to measure one by the other; but how can you bring two parts of time (which is elapsed and gone, while we speak of it) together, to measure one by the other? There is no standard hour laid up in the tower, or a chronometer's office in Washington, by which all time shall be measured. Even while my breath is forming the expressions, "equal time," and "commensurate portions," I am at a loss to know what I mean. A fugitive idea is there; it flits before me; I grasp it and it is gone. O the deep mystery! The Power that measures my existence, eludes my research, and plunges me into darkness. If the reader will thoughtfully peruse the 590th number of the Spectator, he will there find all I wish to say, concerning the mysteries involved (I might say apparent contradictions) in the existence of time and space. I refer to that number with great pleasure. It was the first production which involved me in deep thinking. It made me a little, petulant metaphysician; and brought down some severe rebukes on my boyish head, from my grandfather and aunt. For these reasons, I have never been scrupulous of receiving a system of religion, which presents me with some mysteries. I find them in nature; and I ought to expect to find them in a revelation, which comes from an infinite God; and as I have settled it to my own satisfaction, that some of the deep things of my creed, are not MYSTIFICATION, (i. e. things voluntarily darkened, when they might be expressed more plainly,) I conclude them to be MYSTERIES; and, though I would not say with Sir Thomas Brown, that there is not enough of these in the Bible for my active faith, yet far less would I reject an interpretation, "which contains a doctrine, the light of nature cannot discover, or a precept, which the law of nature does not oblige to."* Before I close, let me say a word respecting one of the most repulsive articles in the old theology of New England. It is well known that our fathers taught the doctrine of the imputation of Adam's sin to all his posterity ex arbitrio Dei; and this has filled their descendants with the most pious horror, and been a standing reproach to them and their religion. What! make men sinners by an arbitrary decree; and damn tender infants for a crime which they never * Butler's Analogy, chap. I. part 2. committed!! Horrible! absurd! blasphemous!! But, it is a rule with me, when I find any thing eminently strange in human opinions, to ask myself whether I understand the thing as it lay in the minds of those, who embraced it. I would respectfully inquire then, whether all these exclamations are not founded in mistake? The existence of sin is a mystery; and if the doctrine of imputation is to be considered as a solution of that mystery, it is worthy of all the names of absurdity, which have been heaped upon it. But was it so intended? I apprehend our fathers meant to leave the primitive mystery just where the light of nature and revelation leaves and finds it. They only meant to state a subordinate fact in the government of God. If so, their doctrine darkened nothing; it only leaves us to bow in submissive adoration when reason says we must. THE PURITAN. No. 47. Desire first taught us words: Man when created, The Orphan. I HAVE often employed myself in speculating on the influence of republicanism on the private manners of domestic life; on those little items of thought and sensation which make up, after all our proud aspirations, the sum total of our wretchedness or felicity. There can be no doubt that republicanism, and the free discussions, which it invites and allows, tends to produce a conflict of opinions, a sharpening of the temper, a division of neighborhoods into factions, a jealousy and alienation of life and heart, which it requires the strongest wisdom to regulate, and the highest moral principle to resist and overcome. But let us not dwell on the dark side. In all ages and all governments, the duty of man is a combat with his propensities; and if liberty makes him too rough a disputer, despotism grinds him down to be a servile hypocrite. There is one point of view, in which I am convinced that republicanism is eminently favorable to domestic happiness; I allude to its influence on love and marriage. The affections are left far more to their natural course, than in the aristocratic world, and there are far fewer restrictions on marriage. Dr. Dwight used frequently to say, that the doctrine of the English moralists on this subject was erroneous. That there are few happy marriages, is their constant assertion. They represent courtship, especially among the higher classes, as constant effort at simulation and dissimulation; love is professed and riches are sought. Jointures, pin-money, and all the arts of interest disturb the hearts of the parties, and destroy their happiness. A connection begun in mercenary views, often is continued in jealousy, and ends in divorce. But in America, love flies over our cities and villages, on his golden wings, unhampered by these oppressive chains. Our marriages are prompted by nature, regulated by principle, and are therefore introductions to happiness. A time will probably come, when the present condition of New England in this respect, will be looked back on as its golden age. As a proof of the justice of this remark, I would |