its greatest changes; and, without losing its essential character, yet, in its own gradations, wonderfully preserving an adaptation to the coming order of things, and this with a precision not within the power of human foresight to preserve. Then, indeed, we must abandon our reason, not to see in its antiquity, its prominence, and universal instrumentality, the true character of a ruling principle and fundamental purpose in the dispensations of Providence. Neither is it merely because it appears as the only permanent principle in the revolutions of human affairs, that we would draw this inference, but because, in effect, the actual working of all such revolutions has been to forward the progress of the religion of the Scripture through some of its stages; this has been their effect, and ultimately their sole effect of any permanence; so much so, indeed, that it would be easy to make it appear that the greater events of Judaism and Christianity have been uniformly preceded by a succession of revolutionary movements in the world, the combined effect of which was to prepare the way for them; thus showing, in very marked characters, that the religion of Scripture is, as it professes to be, from Him who orders all things for his own purposes. Thus, it appears to be the beginning and ending of all things; and, while nothing else remains through the changes of time, is still seen unchangeably guiding and enlightening the steps of the faithful of all ages, through the tempest and confusion of passing things. J. U. U. THOUGHTS ON MEMORY AND HOPE. TO THE EDITOR OF THE CHRISTIAN EXAMINER. SIR-I am aware that your publication is not intended for the discussion of questions of a purely metaphysical or speculative nature; and I should be most unwilling that it should lose its exclusively religious character by becoming so. The following observations, however, are so intimately connected with a subject which has been already brought before the attention of your readers, and are indeed so necessary to a full elucidation of it, that, upon that account, I trust you will not refuse them a place in your pages. In a former communication I suggested a method of accounting for the illusions of memory and hope; and as the solution there proposed appeared to some, whose opinion I respect, superficial and false, I was led to consider it with more attention. The result of this reconsideration was, a confirmed persuasion of its soundness and its truth; and I proceed to lay before you the reflections which seemed to warrant this conviction. It is, I conceive, a universal law of human nature, that the desire of possessing any good has a tendency to produce a belief that we have actually attained to it. In many cases this belief is so obviously at variance with facts which force themselves upon our observation, that the corresponding desire fails to produce its natural effect. A beggar, for example, may desire wealth and luxury; but his threadbare garments and craving appetite are facts too stubborn to yield to the delusions of imagination. A man of low estate may sigh after regal pomp; but, should selfdelusion carry him so far as to make him sway an imaginary sceptre, irresistible evidence is at hand to undeceive him. Vellunt tibi barbam Lascivi pueri; quos tu nisi fuste coërces, Urgeris turbâ circum te stante, miserque Rumperis, et latras, magnorum maxime regum ! But, whenever the object of our desire is such as that imagination can put us in possession of it, unrefuted by the incontrovertible demonstration of actual perception, we readily lend ourselves to the illusion. Whence proceeds, I ask, the overweening estimation of themselves which men in general entertain? How happens it that we, for the most part, think ourselves more wise, more learned, more witty, more gifted, than we actually are? Why does each individual attribute to himself a greater perfection, moral, intellectual, and physical, than in truth belongs to him? And why, above all, does he think himself possessed in a superlative degree, of those very attainments in which he is its greatest changes; and, without losing its essential character, yet, in its own gradations, wonderfully preserving an adaptation to the coming order of things, and this with a precision not within the power of human foresight to preserve. Then, indeed, we must abandon our reason, not to see in its antiquity, its prominence, and universal instrumentality, the true character of a ruling principle and fundamental purpose in the dispensations of Providence. Neither is it merely because it appears as the only permanent principle in the revolutions of human affairs, that we would draw this inference, but because, in effect, the actual working of all such revolutions has been to forward the progress of the religion of the Scripture through some of its stages; this has been their effect, and ultimately their sole effect of any permanence; so much so, indeed, that it would be easy to make it appear that the greater events of Judaism and Christianity have been uniformly preceded by a succession of revolutionary movements in the world, the combined effect of which was to prepare the way for them; thus showing, in very marked characters, that the religion of Scripture is, as it professes to be, from Him who orders all things for his own purposes. Thus, it appears to be the beginning and ending of all things; and, while nothing else remains through the changes of time, is still seen unchangeably guiding and enlightening the steps of the faithful of all ages, through the tempest and confusion of passing things. J. U. U. THOUGHTS ON MEMORY AND HOPE. TO THE EDITOR OF THE CHRISTIAN EXAMINER. SIR-I am aware that your publication is not intended for the discussion of questions of a purely metaphysical or speculative nature; and I should be most unwilling that it should lose its exclusively religious character by becoming so. The following observations, however, are so intimately connected with a subject which has been already brought before the attention of your readers, and are indeed so necessary to a full elucidation of it, that, upon that account, I trust you will not refuse them a place in your pages. In a former communication I suggested a method of accounting for the illusions of memory and hope; and as the solution there proposed appeared to some, whose opinion I respect, superficial and false, I was led to consider it with more attention. The result of this reconsideration was, a confirmed persuasion of its soundness and its truth; and I proceed to lay before you the reflections which seemed to warrant this conviction. It is, I conceive, a universal law of human nature, that the desire of possessing any good has a tendency to produce a belief that we have actually attained to it. In many cases this belief is so obviously at variance with facts which force themselves upon our observation, that the corresponding desire fails to produce its natural effect. A beggar, for example, may desire wealth and luxury; but his threadbare garments and craving appetite are facts too stubborn to yield to the delusions of imagination. A man of low estate may sigh after regal pomp; but, should selfdelusion carry him so far as to make him sway an imaginary sceptre, irresistible evidence is at hand to undeceive him. Vellunt tibi barbam Lascivi pueri; quos tu nisi fuste coërces, Urgeris turbâ circum te stante, miserque Rumperis, et latras, magnorum maxime regum! But, whenever the object of our desire is such as that imagination can put us in possession of it, unrefuted by the incontrovertible demonstration of actual perception, we readily lend ourselves to the illusion. Whence proceeds, I ask, the overweening estimation of themselves which men in general entertain? How happens it that we, for the most part, think ourselves more wise, more learned, more witty, more gifted, than we actually are? Why does each individual attribute to himself a greater perfection, moral, intellectual, and physical, than in truth belongs to him? And why, above all, does he think himself possessed in a superlative degree, of those very attainments in which he is most desirous to exeel? What, in short, is the origin of the delusions of vanity, self-conceit, and inordinate self-esteem? I know not how to answer these questions but by admitting the principle already laid down, that the desire of possessing any advantage has a tendency to produce a belief that we have really attained to it; and that this persuasion is actually felt, when not palpably falsified by opposing facts. Can we doubt that, if men became as ambitious to appear ignorant, illiberal, and dastardly, as they are now solicitous to be thought learned, polite, and brave, self-delusion would accommodate itself to these newly-implanted desires? In those countries where black teeth and white hair are esteemed ornamental to the women, who can doubt that the deceptions of female vanity adapt themselves to the prevailing taste? If, then, we are inclined to overrate ourselves with respect to certain acquirements and accomplishments; and, if those acquirements and accomplishments are precisely those which we are most desirous to possess, how shall we escape the conclusion, that this belief in imaginary attainments is wholly the result of the attractions by which these objects influence our desire? This theory derives no small confirmation from the proneness which we feel to invest those whom we strongly love with perfections wholly the offspring of our own fancy. How many virtues and talents, invisible to less partial eyes, does an indulgent parent discover in a darling child! What slender data are there in Rerum naturâ wherefrom to deduce the existence of all the ideal perfections with which a lover's fancy adorns the object of his affections! It is our desires which are able thus far to impose upon our credulity: we believe, because we are willing to believe. If, then, this principle so greatly influence the opinions which we entertain of those we love, how strongly must it operate with respect to the judgments which we form regarding ourselves! If friendship and affection unfit us for giving an unbiassed verdict upon the case of others, how will self-love permit us to pronounce upon ourselves with the impartiality of an unconcerned spectator? From the foregoing observations it appears to me evident, that there is in the human mind a tendency to imagine itself in possession of those advantages which it covets to attain. Why are we not as apt to think too meanly, as too highly, of ourselves? Is there not as much ground, in the nature of things, for the one opinion as for the other? It is self-love which produces certain desires; and these desires influence our belief. This principle operates in a variety of ways, suitable to the infinite diversity of men's tastes and wishes. But if in one taste and one wish all men are agreed, the principle which I have endeavoured to establish would lead us to expect a widely spread delusion, consequent upon, and coextensive with this universal desire. In one taste all mankind are in perfect unison: all men desire happiness; and the delusion, resulting from this desire, is |