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OBSERVATIONS ON THE GROWTH OF THE MIND. BY SAMPSON REED. Concluded in our next. All nations, under whatever system of govern ment, and in whatever state of civilization, are; under the Divine Providence surely, but almost imperceptibly, advancing to a moral and political! order, such as the world has not yet seen. f J hey | are guided by the same hand, and with a view to the same destiny. Much remains to be done, and more to be suffered ; but the end is certain. The humblest individual may, nay, must aid in the ; accomplishment of this consummation. It is not; for time or space to set limits to the effects ot the j life of a single man. Let then the child be so initi ated into a knowledge of the condition ol mankind, that the love at first indulged in the circle of his father’s family shall gradually subside into a chaste and sober love of his country ; and of his coun try, not as opposed to other countries, but as aid ing them in the same great object. Let the young mind be warmed and cherished by whatever is chaste and generous in the mind of the public ; and be borne on to a knowledge of our institu tions, by the rich current of the disposition to pre serve them. Thus it is, that the child is no sooner brought into this world, than the actual condition, both of the world itself and of society, acts powerfully to draw forth the energies of his mind. It man kind had retained that order in which they were created, this influence, in co-operation with the Divine, would have been sufficient, as it was de signed to have been, for all the purposes of God. Nature, the very image of divine lovliness and the purest affections of the heart, which ap proach still nearer the same origin, acting together on the infant mind ; it would seem as if the ef fect would be almost as certain as any process of growth which is witnessed among the productions of the natural world. But man is fallen ; and the operation of this influence, in different condi tions of society, may produce different results, but in none is sufficient to capacitate him tor that life of usefulness and happiness for which he was de signed. The influence of society cannot be suf ficient, since this cannot raise a man above its own level; and the society of earth is no longer the societv of heaven. This influence may bring forward all the warlike energies of the young savage, and direct them in their utmost vigor to the distruclion of his enemies and of the beasts of the forest; and he may look onward with rap ture to the happy hunting grounds beyond the grave. What disappointment awaits him in the other world, all of us may easily imagine. This influence may bring forth and gratify the unchaste and beastly passions of the Turk; and he may look forward, with his Koran in his hand, to a heaven of sensuality and crime. It need not be said how widely different will be found the reality. Christians generally are standing in expectation of a happiness as boundless in extent, as it is un defined in its nature ; and with an infinite variety of passions, in whose gratification alone they have experienced delight, are expecting a heaven in which simple useless enjoyment will rise like a flood and immerse the mind. The result must, of necessity, be as various as the condition of the in dividuals bv whom it is anticipated. Still there is a society yet in its coming, unseen though not unseeing, shrouded from the rest of the world by the very brilliancy of its own light, which would resist the impulse of every evil affection, and look for heaven simply in the delight of that which is chaste, pure and holy ; which, by removing that which renders duty undelightful, would draw nigh to the only Source of real enjoyment; which would find its happiness and its God in the very commandments which have been the terror of the world ; to which the effect is no longer doubtful, since it is made acquainted with the cause, and which, as it anticipates no reward, will meet with no disappointment. When this society shall be fully established on the earth, the voice of the Lord will be no longer obstructed as it descends from above the heavens :—“ Suffer little children to come unto me and forbid them not, fur of such is the kingdom of God” The influence of the natural world, however beneficial it may prove, is not such as it was de signed to have been. Man has ever sought a con dition in nature, which should correspond with the state of his own mind. The savage would pine and droop, if too suddenly removed to scenes of civilization, like grass which had grown in rank luxuriance under the shade of the oak, if the branches were cleft, and it was at once exposed to the power of the sun. The character of all the lower orders of creation has suffered a change in consequence of that in the condition of man, the extent of which cannot be measured. That the sun was darkened at the crucifixion of our Lord, was no miracle. It was as much the nat ural consequence of that event, as its present lustre is ot His glory. It is not then for these, the objects ot nature, to restore to us that moral or der, the want of which has wrought such chances on themselves. c There is then another power which is necessarv to the orderly development of the mind—the power of the Word of God. This indeed has been implied in all the preceding remarks. No possessions and no efforts of the mind are uncon nected with it, whatever may be the appearance. Revelation so mingles with everything which meets us, that it is not easy for us to measure the degree to which our condition is affected by it. Its effects appear miraculous at first, but after thev have become established, the mind, as in the ordinarv operations of nature, is apt to become unconscious of the power by which they are pro duced. All growth or development is effected from within,outward. It is so with animals; i i s so with vegetables; it is so with the bodv; it is so with the mind. \\ ere is not for a power with in the soul, as the soul is within the body, it could have no possibility of subsistence. That the growth of the material part depends on the pres ence of that which is spiritual, is obvious from the fact, that at death the former fall to decay. II it were possible for God to be detached from our spiritual part, this would decay likewise. The doctrine, then of the immortality of the soul is sim ply “ I in my father and ye in me and T in you.” It is the union of the Divine with the human— of that from which all things are, and on which they depend, the Divine will, with man through the connecting medium of Divine Truth. It is the tendency of the Bible to effect this union, and of course to restore a consciousness of it. It is a union which God desires with all, therefore even the wicked who reject it partake of his immor tality, though not of his happiness. When, in the process of regeneration, this union is accom plished, the fear of dissolution will be as impos sible in this world as in the other; and before this is effected, the fear of dissolution may exist, there as well as here. It is not the place where a per son is, but the condition of mind which is to be regarded; and there is no antidote, against the fear of death, but the consciousness of being united with the Fountain of life. But it is asked, how can the fear of death exist after it has actually ta ken place ? The separation of the spiritual and material part, so far as the nature of their connec tion is understood, can produce no fear. Were it not for evil in ourselves, it would rather wear the appearance of a state of uncommon quiet. There is upon no subject a more powerful tendency to instinctive knowledge, than upon that of death. The darkness with which it is veiled, presents but a lamentable picture of our present condition. It is its own dissolution of which the mind is afraid; and that want of conjunction with God which ren ders this fear possible here, may render it possible an} T where, It is the sole object of the Bible to con join the soul with God; and, as this is effected, it may be understood in what way the Holy Spirit operates interiorly to produce its development. It is not a mere metaphor, it is a plain and simple fact, that the Spirit of God, is as necessary to the development of the mind, as the power of the nat ural sun to the growth of vegetables, and in the same way. But let us remember, that, as in na ture the heat and light may be converted into the most noxious poison ; so the Spirit of God, in it self perfectly pure and holy, may be converted in to passion the most opposite to its nature. It is left to us to open our hearts to its influence, by obeying the commandments. “If ye love me, keep mv commandments; and I will pray the Fa ther, and he shall give you another Comforter that he may abide with you forever.” ‘*He that be lieveth on the Son hath everlasting life;” and he will become conscious of living and growing from God. It is not consistent with the nature of things that the full practical effect of a subject should be at once revealed to the mind. The child is led on to a knowledge of his letters by a thousand little en ticements, and by the tender coercion of parental aulhority, while he is yet ignorant of the treas ures mysteriously concealed in their combinations. The arts havejbeen courted merely for the transient gratification they afford. Their connection with religion and with the sciences is beginning to be discovered; and they are yet to yield a powerful influence in imparting to the mind its moral har mony and proportions. The sciences themselves have been studied principally as subjects of spec ulation and amusement. They have been sought for the gratification they afford, and for the artifi cial standing they give in society, by the line of distinction which is drawn between the learned and the vulgar. The discovery of their connec tion with the actual condition of’man, is of later origin; and though their application to use is yet in its infancy, they are beginning to throw a light on almost every department of labor, hitherto un exampled in the annals of the world. Religion, too, has been a subject of speculation, something evanescent, a theory a prayer, a hope. It remains for this also to become practical, by the actual ac complishment of that which it promises. It re mains for the promise of reward to be swallowed up in the vmrk of salvation. It remains for the soul to be restored to its union with God—to hea ven. Chrislianhy is in the tree of life again plan ted in the world; and, by its own vital power, it has been, year after year, casting off’ the opinion of men, like the external bark which partakes not of its life. It remains for the human mind to become conformed to its spirit, that its principles may possess the durability of their origin. Such are the effects to be anticipated from the Bi ble in the development of the mind. It has begun the work, and will perfect it in each individual, so tar as, by a life according to the commandments, he becomes willing that it should. 1 here is with in it a secret power, which exerts an influence on the moral and intellectual world, like that of the sun on the physical; and,’ however long and suc cesfully it may be resisted by some, not the less certain in its eliect on the ultimate condition of so ciety. lam aware that, in these remarks, lam ascribing to the spirit of God, to the spirit of the Word, a power which some may be unwilling to allow to it. The Bible is thought to resemble oth er books, and to be subject to the same laws of criticism ; and we may be sometimes in danger of becoming insensible to its internal power, from the very mass of human learning with which it is encumbered. “Is not this the carpenter’s son C There is one law of criticism, the most impor tant to the thorough understanding of any work, which seems not to have been brought sufficiently into view in the study of the Bible. It is that by which we should be led by a continued exercise of those powers which are most clearly demon strated in an author; by continued habits of mind and action ; to approximate to that intellec tual and moral condition, in which the work orig inated. If it were desired to make a child thor oughly acquainted with the work of a genuine poet, I would not put the poem and lexicon in his hand, and bid him study and learn—l would rather make him familiar with whatever was cal culated to call forth the power of poetry in him self; since it requires the exercise of the same powers to understand, that it does to produce. I would point him to that source from which the au thor himself caught his inspiration, and, as I led him to the baptismal fount of nature, I would consecrate his powers to that Being from whom nature exists. I would cultivate a sense of the constant presence and agency of God, and direct him inward to the presence-chamber of the Most High, that his mind might become imbued with His spirit, I would endeavor, by the whole course of his education, to make him a living po em, that when, he read the poetry of others, it might be effulgent with the light of his own mind. The poet stands on the mountain, with the face of nature before him, calm and placid. If we would enter into his views, we must go where he is. W e must catch the direction of his eye, and yield ourselves up to the instinctive guidance of his will, that we may have a secret foretaste of his . meaning—that we may be conscious of the image in its first conception —that we may perceive its beginning and gradual growth, till at length it be-! comes distinctly depicted on the retina of the mind. Without this, we may take the dictionary in our hands, and settle the definition of every word, and still know as little of the lofty concep tion of the author, as the weary traveller, who passes round in the farthest verge which is visible from the mountain, knows of the scenery which is seen from its summit. It has been truly said, that Johnson was incapable of conceiving the beau ties of Milton. Yet Johnson was himself a liv ing dictionary of Milton’s language. The t.iue po et, when his mind is full, fills his language to over flowing; and it is left to the reader to preserve what the words cannot contain. It is that part’ which cannot be defined; that which is too deli cate to endure the unrestrained gaze; that which shrinks instinctively from the approach of any thing less chaste than itself, and though present, like the inhabitants of the other world, is unper ceived by flesh and blood, which is worth all the rest. This acknowledges no dwelling-place but the mind. Stamp the living light on the extended face of nature, beyond the power of darkness at the setting of the sun, and you may preserve such light as this, when the mind rises not to meet it in its coming. ]f it were desired to make an individual ac quainted with a work in one of the abstract sciences, this might be best effected by leading him gradually to whetever conduced to the growth of those powers, on which a knowledge of these sciences depend ; by cultivating a principle of dependence on the Divine Being, a purity and chastity of the affections, which will produce a tranquil condition, of all things the most favora ble to clear perceptions ; by leading him to an habitual observation of the relation of* things, and to such continued exertion of the understanding, as, calling into use its full powers without indu cing fatigue, may impart the strength of the la borer, without the degradation of the slave ; in a word, by forming a penetrating, mathematical mind, rather than by communicating mathemati cal information. The whole character and com plexion of the mind will be gradually changed ; till at length it will become, (chemically speaking) in its very nature, an active solvent of these sub jects. They fall to pieces as soon as they come in contact with it, and assume an arrangement agreeable to that of the mind itself, with all the precision of crystallization. They are then un derstood ; for the mest perfect understanding of a subject is simply a perception of harmony ex isting between the subject and the mind itself.— Indeed, the understanding which any individual possesses of a subject might be mathematically de-| fined 5 and there is aeon, stant struggle lor the divisor and dividend to be come the same by a change in the one or the other, that the result may be unity, and the understand ing perfect. 1 here is an analogy, (such as may exist be tween things human and things divine,) between that discipline which is required in order to un derstand a production of taste or science, and that which is necessary to a clear perception )j( 1 the truths of the Bible. As it is requisite to afuji sense of the beauties of poetry, that the indivi* 1 dual should be himself a poet, and to a thorouM knowledge of a work of science, that he shouh] not merely have scientific information, but a sci. I entific mind ; so it is necessary to a 1 of the Bible, that the mind should be formed ui the image and likeness es God. An understand, ing of the Word is the effect of a life according to its precepts. It requires, not the obedience of the rich man who went away sorrowful, but the obedience of him who holds eveiy other posses sion, whether it consists in the acquirements 0 f rhe mind or in earthly property, in subjection to the Holy Spirit within him. “If ye will do the will of God, ye shall know of the doctrine,” i s a law of exegesis, before which false sentiments will melt away, like frost before the rising sun There is within the mind the golden vein of duty, which, if followed aright, will lead to an increas ing brightness, before which the proudest monu ments of human criticism will present an appear ance like that of the dark disk of this world, as the eve of the dying man opens on the scenes of the other. The world is beginning to be changed from what it was. Physical power, instead of boasting of its deeds of* prowess, and pointing with the tomahawk or the lance to the bloody testimonies of its strength, is beginning to leave its image on the rugged face of nature, and to feel the living evidence of its achievements, in the happy circle of domestic life. It remains for intellectual strength to lose the consciousness of its existence in the passions subdued, and to reap the reward of its labors, not in the spoils of an enemy, but in the fruits of honest industry. It remains for us to be come more thoroughly acquainted with the laws of moral mechanism. Instead of making un necessary and ineffectual exertions in the direct attainment of truth, it remains for us to make ecjual efforts to cleanse our own minds and to do good to others ; and what was before unattaina ble will become easy, as the rock which untutored strength cannot move, may be raised by a touch of the finger. The Bible differs from other books, as our Lord differed from men. He was born of a woman, but His Spirit was the everlasting Father. It is humble in its appearance, as nature is when com pared to art; and some parts which Providence j has permitted to remain within the same cover have often attracted more attention than that which is really divine. From the very nature of perfect innocence its presence is unnoticed, sa\e by him by whom it is loved. Divine Love, in its perfect thoughtlessness of itself, enters the atheis tical heart, unperceived. Such an one thinks meanly of those who think humbly of themselves, and with perfect humility the last vestige of reality disappears. To him, both nature and the Word arc like a deserted building, through which, as ho passes, he is conscious of nothing but the sound of his own footsteps; but to him whose heart opens to the Divine Influence, this building ap pears to assume, from the internal cause of its creation, the sym me try of perfect proportions, till at length, as be becomes more and more con scious of the presence with which it. is filled, he sees no temple, “ for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple.” The Word resem bles the Hebrew language, in which much of it is written. To him who knows not its spirit, it is an empty form without sound or vowel ; but to him who is alive to the Divine Influence, it is filled with the living voice of God. The Bible can never be fully understood, either by making it subservient to natural reason, or by blindly adopting what reason would reject; but by that illumination of the understanding and en laigement of the reason which will result from a gradual conformity to its precepts. Reason now is something very different from what it was a few centuries past. We are in the habit of thinking that the mode of reasoning has changed ; but this appears to be merely an indication of a change which has taken place in the character of the mind itself. Syllogistic reasoning is passing away. It has left no permanent demonstration but that of its own worthlessness. It amounts to nothing but the discernment and expression of the parti culars which goto comprise something more gen eral ; and, as the human mind permits things to assume a proper arrangement from their own in herent power of attraction, it is no longer necessa ry to bind them together with syllogisms. Few minds can now endure the tediousness of being led blindfold to a conclusion, and of being satis fied with the results merely from the recollection of having been satisfied on the way to it. The mind requires to view the parts of a subject, not only separately, but together; and the under standing, in the exercise of those powers of ar rangement, by which a subject is presented in its just relations to other things, takes the name of reason. We appear to be approaching that con dition which requires the union of reason and el oquence, and will be satisfied with neither with out the other. We neither wish to see an ana tomical plate of bare muscles, nor the gaudy daubings of finery; but a happy mixture of strength and beauty. We desire language nei ther extravagant nor cold, but blood-warm. Rea son is beginning to lekrn the necessity of simply tracing the relations which exist between created things, and even touching what it exam ines, lest it disturb the arrangement in the cabinet