ment of the argument Paley failed. He was not a perfect master of the inductive logic, and he left it to other and more skilful hands to do for theology that which Bacon did for physics-compelling the atheist to one or other of these alternatives either to deny that we have any evidence of human intelligence, or to admit the existence of a divine Intelligence.

Dr. Crombie has devoted many pages of his work to an exposure of the fallacies of Hume, the subtleties of Drummond, and the dogmas of Spinoza.

The hypothesis of the eternity of this globe, and its vegetable and animal beings, is satisfactorily disproved by an appeal to various geological facts; and man is shown to be a comparatively recent creation.* The fanciful cosmologies which Buffon and other speculatists have been pleased to invent, our author assails sometimes with ridicule, and sometimes with argument. His proofs of the divine intelligence are drawn solely from the phenomena of nature the planetary system-the physical constitution of our globe-its adaptation to the growth and sustenance of the animal and vegetable creation; and more especially he dwells on the wonderful means by which man and the brute species are supplied with the requisites essential to life and happiness-air, water, food, and clothing. The phenomena seem judiciously chosen, as calculated to amuse and interest the reader, and they are forcibly applied to the subject in question. But, though the arguments drawn from the laws and affections of brute matter are amply sufficient to evince the necessity of an intelligent and designing cause, yet it is when we leave the wonders of the material world, and ascend into a higher grade of existence-where life, instinct, and thought, are combined with physical organization-that we discover the most striking instances of creative wisdom. Here the mechanical and chemical agencies-the vital powers-the attractions and repulsions-the transpositions and combinations-and all the guesses and fancies by which the atheist would account for the phenomena of the universe, avail him nothing.

Let us direct our attention to animal instincts; and, though all of these irresistibly lead to the conclusion of a wise and designing cause, there is none perhaps, in the vast chain of animal being, more striking than that of the bee. Our limits will not permit us to enter minutely into the economy of this wonderful insect; we shall therefore confine ourselves to one fact:—

'When we behold this little creature constructing its cell, to *On this head, as on many others, we may refer our readers to the splendid summary of Mr. Sedgewick, in his recent Discourse before the University of Cambridge; perhaps the most remarkable pamphlet that has appeared in England since Burke's Reflections, but one which, being itself a masterly reviewal, is not exactly suited for the purpose of detailed notice in a critical journal.

contain

:

contain its winter stock, and constructing it of that form which is demonstrably the strongest, and the most convenient, it seems the extravagance of absurdity to suppose, that the instinct by which it is directed is the offspring of ignorance. The phenomenon, indeed, is one of the most extraordinary that the animal world presents to our contemplation. It must be evident to every one who has given the least attention to the obvious properties of different figures, that there are only three which will admit the junction of their sides, without any vacant spaces between them-all the figures being equal and similar; namely, the square, the equilateral triangle, and the hexaedron of these, the last is the strongest and the most convenient. In this form, then, we find that all the cells are constructed. This is a curious and wonderful fact; and, what is equally remarkable, the middle of every cell, on one side, is directly opposite to the point where the three partitions meet on the opposite side. By this position, the cell receives additional strength. This is not all. If human ingenuity were to contrive a cell, which would require the least expenditure of material and labour, it would be a question, not easily solved, at what precise angle the three planes which compose the bottom ought to meet. The late celebrated mathematician, Maclaurin, by a fluxionary calculus, determined precisely the angle required; and he found, by the most exact mensuration the subject would admit, that it is the very angle in which the three planes in the bottom of a cell of a honey-comb do actually meet. The same curious fact was ascertained by a German mathematician :-Reaumur, presuming that the angles were adopted for the purpose of saving material, proposed to Koenig, a mathematician of eminence, that he should determine what should be the angles of a hexagonal cell, with a pyramidal base, to require the least material. By the infinitiomal calculus, he ascertained that the greatest angle should be 109° 26', and the smaller 70° 34'-the very angles which the insect adopts. What an astonishing coincidence is this! A profound mathematician is required to solve a very difficult problem; and it is found that his conclusion, gained by the exercise of considerable ingenuity and deep thought, was practically exhibited in the operations of the bee. How few are capable of that scientific investigation which this insect illustrates by its practice? It seems the extravagance of folly to believe, that out of the numerous different combinations of which two angles are susceptible, that which most saves labour and material should be adopted by random chance or blind necessity.'

A bird's nest presents a phenomenon nearly as wonderful as the cell of the bee. This object is so familiar to us, that it excites little or no curiosity; but let it be shown to a person capable of reflection, who had never seen such a structure; let him examine the materials of which it is composed-their admirable aptitude for the purpose which it answers, the convenience of its form for the shape and the warmth of its inhabitants-the lightness, the firmness-the neatness with which its materials are twisted and interwoven ;

terwoven; and let him be assured that this curious structure was finished in a few weeks, by a pair of birds, with no other implements than the bill and the claws-and he would instantly be filled with profound astonishment: and how would this emotion be heightened, when he learned that the birds began to build it just in time to be ready for incubation, that it was the first they had ever made, and that they had therefore no experience of the days or weeks necessary for its completion? If there be no ingenuity, no foresight in the animal, there must be wisdom and contrivance somewhere.

There cannot be a stronger proof of intelligence and design than a deviation from a general and salutary law, accompanied with a provision against the injurious effect which that deviation would otherwise produce.

'Almost all animals come into the world covered with clothing adapted to their condition. Man is an exception, because he can clothe himself. He is not, however, the only exception; nor is he the only animal that can clothe itself. The larva or grub of that species of moth which is called the "clothes' moth," manufactures, as soon as it comes into the world, a coat for itself, of hair or wool, and, for the protection of its tender skin, lines it with silk. This is a curious and singular fact. If this coat were the insect's natural covering, it would grow with the insect's growth; but it is artificialand some provision, therefore, must be made for its enlargement, as the grub increases in size. If additional length only were required, the task would be easy; the covering being cylindrical, all that would be necessary would be effected by adding a ring or two at the top or the bottom. But the coat must be widened; and this is an operation which is not so easily performed; but the little insect, as if it had learned the art of tailoring, accomplishes its object with equal ease and success. It begins, as an experienced workman would do, by making two slits, one on each side, in order to give additional width, and then it introduces two slips of the same materials, to fill up the space; but it sees-or, at least, acts as if it foresaw-that if the slits were made on each side, from one end to the other, at once, the coat would fall off: it proceeds, therefore, with caution, and at first slits its garment on each side only half-way down; and, when it has completed the enlargement of that half, proceeds in like manner to enlarge the other. What more could be done by a skilful tailor? And, be it observed, that this operation is performed, not by imitation-for it never saw the thing done; nor by practice-for it is its first attempt. The facts are curious, and worthy of attention. It comes into existence naked. Whence has it learned that a covering is necessary?-who has taught it to choose the proper materials ?or from whom has it learned to employ those within its reach, and fit them for its use?-who has taught it to felt and fashion them into a coat?-who has taught it that the coat must be enlarged, in order to suit its growth ?-whence has it learned to enlarge its covering

without

without taking it off, or leaving itself naked? If ingenuity and foresight are denied to the insect, its instinct shows that there is wisdom somewhere. Do we look for intelligence in a senseless necessity?

'How absurd soever the hypothesis may be, and how repugnant soever to the known and established operations of nature, that man was formed by chance or by necessity, instantaneously perfect and in a state of full maturity, it is evident that, admitting the possibility of such an origin, he must have perished immediately after his formation. How was his animal frame to have been supported? Did he know that it required aliment for its sustenance? He came into the world susceptible of pain and pleasure, but totally ignorant of his necessities, and equally unacquainted with the means of supplying them. He feels, we shall suppose, the pain of hunger and thirst; but does he know the cause, or is he acquainted with the means of relieving them ?— certainly not. He is as ignorant that the fruits of the earth would satisfy his hunger, or the water of the brook quench his thirst, as the new-born babe; and if he knew that they would answer these ends, how does he know the mode of administering them? How does he know that his food is to be received by the mouth, masticated by the teeth, and transmitted to the stomach? And, if he knew all this, who teaches him-or how does he know to put the appropriate muscles in motion, when he is ignorant even that a muscle exists? To referus to nature, is to ascribe intelligence to a name, or to an abstract conception. To tell us that he is taught by instinct, is not to remove, but to shift the difficulty. Instinct implies something implanted. By whom is it implanted ?-or, we will dismiss the name, though offered by the atheist, lest we should seem to beg the question, and observe, that an animal acts either with knowledge, or by knowledge. If with knowledge, as implying an acquaintance with means and ends, how can that be acquired without experience? Its existence is impossible. If by knowledge, which implies an ignorance in itself of means and ends, then that knowledge is not its own, and must be referred to an Intelligent Author, acting in it, either mediately or immediately. In short, if there is knowledge, it must either be acquired or implanted. If the former alternative be impossible, the latter necessarily follows. No truth, then, can be more evident than this,—that if man had been formed fortuitously, he could not have been sustained fortuitously, but must have perished almost as soon as he came into existence. If chance could account for his formation, it cannot possibly account for his preservation.'

This argument is conclusive against one hypothesis. The other, which maintains that the earth, in its primeval state, possessed a generative power,-that it contained the seeds of plants and animals-and that these were expanded from embryo, and gradually grew to full maturity-is not less absurd than it is degrading to our nature. Wretchedly debased, indeed, must be the soul of that man who can reconcile himself to assimilate his origin to that of the mite or the maggot. But if such an origin were possible,

how

how is the infant to be fed and fostered until it be capable of providing for its numerous wants? Without that provision for its sustenance to which we would now direct the attention of the reader, it must, in a few hours, return to its mother earth.

'Of all the animal creation, man comes into the world the most helpless and the most dependent. With an organization complete in all its parts, and every part fitted to perform its function, the infant would perish soon after its birth, if some provision were not made for its protection and support. Aliment is accordingly provided for it, suited to its nature, and adapted to its taste; provided, too, in the breast of its mother, by a process no less admirable than necessary. And what renders the provision truly wonderful-furnishing an impressive evidence of design-is the exhibition of these three striking and impressive facts:-1st. That this aliment is prepared by a temporary deviation from the previous and usual procedure of nature. 2d. That it is not provided until it becomes necessary. 3d. That the supply ceases when it is not required. Can these extraordinary accommodations to varying circumstances be explained by referring them to random chance, or an ignorant fatality? The atheist may fancy that he explains the phenomena when he traces the various steps of the process, noting antecedents and consequents, and assigning what are termed the immediate causes; but we must remind him that, to know the conjunction of two or more phenomena, is not to know the principle of connexion. The mode or order of action is not to be confounded with the principle of agency. If the particles of the secretory organs act by necessity, it cannot be the necessity of brute ignorance, but their passive obedience to the ordination of intelligence.

'But it would not be sufficient that aliment were provided for the nourishment of the child; it must be administered. How, then, is this to be effected? The question, perhaps, may seem to be idle and unnecessary, so familiar to us is the sight of a mother suckling her little innocent. Much, indeed, it is to be lamented, that the more we are accustomed to see the wonders of nature, the more prone we are to regard them with stoical indifference. Reason, and a sense of duty, might prompt the mother to give her breast to the infant child; but these principles can operate only in cultivated minds; in the brute creation they have no place; and their agency is generally slow and uncertain. They constitute a part of that mental provision which is made for the support of the helpless babe: but other incentives, more quick in their operation, as well as more certain in their effect, concur with the provision of physical nature, and stimulate the mother, with resistless efficacy, to administer to her infant that food which is provided for its sustenance. These are-pain, pleasure, and instinctive affection,-three of the most powerful stimulants of which our nature is susceptible.

If the nutriment for the infant be suppressed or withheld, pain is the necessary consequence. A febrile affection ensues, inflicted, we say, by the Parent of nature for the violation of his laws. This pain

ful