at real liberty, it is no more attached to the dollar than to the guinea; the influence which the dollar has on his mind more than the guinea, destroys not the liberty of the mind to choose the guniea; I wish to be told, why he is more likely to choose the dollar than the guinea. Or, to alter the statement, so that the mind is not deceived. The man perfectly knows the value of both guinea and dollar. The good of his wanting family is what he means to consult; which will he be most likely to choose, in this case? answer, the guinea. I ask, again, why? Is there any reason, or is there not? There is, and it is the greater value. Then the object governs the choice. I ask, in the above instance, had the mind any power or liberty to choose the object which appeared of the least value, and refuse that which appeared of the greatest? I am sure there is not a person in the world who would say that it had. Again, admitting, for the sake of the argument that the mind possesses this imaginary liberty; I then ask, how came it to possess such liberty? Answer, God gave it. Then the matter stands thus, God produced a mind, and gave it liberty to will, or choose, and it wills or chooses; I ask, what is the original cause of this willing and choosing? The reader will easily see, that if I grant my opponent's arguments, it will not be to his advantage. Again, for the last time, if God gave to man a liberty whereby he can choose or refuse the same object, did he not give his creature a liberty which he did not possess himself? Did not the Infinitely Wise eternally know all that he himself would do? It must be granted. Then I ask, again, does he possess any liberty in his nature, whereby it is in his power to abandon the general system contained in his divine omnisciency, and embrace one entirely different? I am sure there are but few in the world who would not

say, as did the apostle, "He cannot deny himself." If the creature possess any ability which is not in his Creator, I would ask, first, where he got it? And, secondly, if the Almighty knew all the consequences which would arise from such an ability? If the answer be in the negative, it argues that his wisdom is finite and limited, and that he does not know but this unaccountable ability of willing and choosing may finally destroy his whole plan in cre. ation, providence and redemption! If it be granted, that he did know all the consequences that would arise from this ability of willing and choosing, which is called liberty of will, it is denying its existence. For if those consequences are all known, it argues they were all certain, and none of them avoidable.

Having, as I hope, to the reader's satisfaction, answered the objections in respect to the liberty of the will, I would again invite him back to our subject.

The immediate causes of sin are found in our natural constitutions, and the most distant of those immediate causes are the same as the most distant of the immediate causes of our virtues; but the most immediate causes of our virtues and our vices are extremely different. For instance, two men meet at an inn; both of them have families which are in want of bread; they have each fifty cents, which they have just taken for their days work. One says, to the other, come, sit down, and we will take some drink, for our comfort, after a hard day's labor. The other reflects in his mind, and says to himself, to let my children suffer, at home, to gratify my company in what is indifferent to me, would be abominable, having no particular appetite for spirits; he, therefore, refuses, bids his company good night, goes and purchases necessary pro

visions for his family, and goes home. He has done as a virtuous honest husband ought to do. The other possesses a violent appetite for ardent spirits; the moment he comes where it is, his want of it overpowers his love and duty to his family, the latter object being at a distance, and the former being nigh; he calls for drink until he spends his fifty cents, and then goes home to his expecting family intoxicated. In this, according to the scriptures, though he were a professed christian, he is worse than an infidel.

In the mirror presented, the reader may see, that those two men acted equally alike from their natural wants, appetites and passions. Had neither of them any wants, appetites or passions, neither of them would have done any thing at all. They would not have labored for the money; and if they had the money, they would not have laid it out in any way possible. Therefore, we see, that want, appetite and passion, in one, produced virtue, and in the other vice. But, the still more immediate causes were not the same in both persons; and the consequence to them, in a moral sense, differ as much, as did the most immediate circumstances

which produced their conduct. One felt the approbation of a good conscience in having done what cool dispassionate reason dictated; the other, as soon as his eyes are opened to see what he has done, is struck with condemnation, for having violated the dictates of that law of prudence and equity, of which he was susceptible.

A beggar influenced by hunger, calls at the door of the affluent for food, he knows it is there, his appetite is good, the object magnifies to his senses; but by one who knows the love of property more than the want of food, he is sternly denied. The beggar

prostrates himself and moves his suit in language of distress, reducing his petition to only a piece of bread; the covetous man is a little moved, with some small feelings of compassion, but fearing that if he should bestow, he should consequently be troubled again, bids the beggar depart, and leaves him. The beggar's object was food, and his passion hunger; he acted up to the influence of his object, and did all in his power to obtain it. The other's object was the saving of his property, and his passion was covetousness; he acted up to the influence of his object, to the gratification of his passion. Now, had the circumstance been varied so much as this, that he did not think his giving, at that time, would ever induce him to call again, the probability is, his object and his passion would both have been different; to feed an hungry man, would have been his object, and charity his passion.

Man's main object, in all he does, is happiness; and were it not for that, he never could have any other particular object. What would induce men to form societies; to be at the expense of supporting government; to acquire knowledge; to learn the sciences, or till the earth, if they believed they could be as happy without, as with? The fact is, man would not be the being that he now is, as there would not be any stimulus to action; he must become inert, therefore cease to be. As men are never without this grand object, so they are never without their wants, which render such an object desirable. But their minor objects vary, according as their understandings vary, and their passions differ.

Then, says the objector, there is no such thing as disinterested benevolence. I answer, words are used to communicate ideas; there is that, often, in our experience, which is meant by disinterested

benevolence. An American is travelling in Europe; he meets, in the street, a young and beautiful fair, bathed in tears, her breast swollen with grief, and her countenance perfectly sad. His heart, fraught with the keenest sensibility is moved compassionately to inquire the cause of her grief; he is informed that her father, in a late sickness, became indebted to his physician twenty guineas, for which he was that hour committed to gaol, when he had but partially recovered his health. Our traveller no sooner hears the story, than he advances the twenty guineas to discharge the debt, and gives her fifty more as a reward for her generous concern. As our traveller did not expect any pecuniary reward, either directly or indirectly, his charity is called disinterested benevolence. But, strickly speaking, he was greatly interested; he was interested in the afflictions of father and child; their relief was his object, and charity his passion. Now did he not act for his own happiness? Yes, as much as ever a man did in life. What must have been his misery, possessing the same disposition, without the means to relieve? And what a sublime satisfaction he enjoyed, by the bestowment of his favor! Sacred truth informs us, "It is more blessed to give, than to receive."

We find some men honest and industrions; who think, and think justly, that happiness is not to be found in any other way. Others are indolent and knavish, and they expect to obtain happiness in so being. But they are deceived in their objects; and will finally learn, that they must be, what conscience has often told them they ought to be, honest and just, in order to be happy.

The objector will say, to admit that our happiness, is the grand object of all we do, destroys the purity of religion, and reduces the whole to noth