MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 319 V. The thankful Philosopher. AMONG all the useful and entertaining studies of philoso- phy, there is none so worthy of man as the science of human nature. There is none that furnishes us with more wonders of divine wisdom, or gives higher occasion to adore divine goodness.'. Charistus, a gentleman of great piety and worth, has spent many an hour upon this delightful theme. In the midst of his medita- tions one day, he was debating thus with himself, and enquiring what sort of being he was : Now I stand, said he, now I lie down ; I rise again and walk, I eat, drink and sleep ; my pulse heats, and I draw the breath of life : Surely I have the parts and powers of an ani- mal'; I am a living body of flesh and blood, a wonderful engine, with many varieties of motion. But let me consider also what other actions I perform. I think, I meditate and contrive, I compare things and judge of them ; now I doubt, and then I believe ; I will what I act, and sometimes wish what I cannot act : I desire and hope for what I have not, as well as am conscious of what I have, and rejoice in it: 1 look backward, and survey ages past, and I look forward into what is to come : Surely I must be a spirit, a thinking power, a soul, something very distinct from this machine of matter with all its shapes and motions. Mere matter put into all possible motion, can never think, reason, and contrive, can never hope and wish, as I do, and survey distant times, the past and future : Yet it is as impos- sible also that a mind, a soul, should walk or lie down, should eat or drink ; but I feel, 'I knots, I am assured I do all these. I perform some actions that cannot belong to a spirit, and some that flesh and blood can never pretend to. What am I then ? What strange kind of being is this, which is conscious of all these different agencies, both of matter and spirit? What sort of thing can I be,, who seem to think and reason in my head, who feel and am conscious of pain or ease, not at my heart only, but at my toes and fingers too ? I con- clude then, I can be nothing else but a compound creature, made up of these two distinct beings, spirit and matter ; or, as we usually express it, soul and body. It is very plain also to me, upon a small enquiry, that this body and this soul did not make themselves, nor one another. But did not I myself join these two different natures together when they were made ? Did not my soul take this body into union with itself? By no means; for the first moment that I knew any thing of myself, I found the powers of thought work- ing in an animal nature ; that is, I found myself such a com-
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