of any animal; he is at the same time, capable of becoming a greater enemy, and of having a stronger hatred and detestation of them, than is to be found even amongst the different tribes of animals, that are born in a natural state of enmity. All the natural language therefore of sympathy, and antipathy, should be given to him in a higher degree, for the same reason that it is in a more limited state assigned to the several tribes of animals.

Thus far we find, that man, in his animal capacity, is furnished, like all other animals, by nature herself, with a language which requires neither study, art, nor imitation; which spontaneously breaks out in the exactest expressions, nicely proportioned to the degrees of his inward emotions; and which is not only universally understood, but felt, by those of the same species, as also, in certain degrees, by the rest of the animal world. That animals should come perfect from the hand of nature, in this respeet, as well as in every thing else, seems reasonable, from this consideration, that they are utterly incapable of improving themselves, or of making any alteration in their frames, by their own care or pains; their several faculties, by an invariable law, growing to perfection, and decaying with their bodies, with as little assistance from themselves, as vegetation in herbs or trees is produced in the insensitive world. Nature has not been less provident with regard to man, as the first of animals; on the contrary this, as well as all his other animal faculties, is bestowed on him in a degree suitable to the superiority of his rank. But as man is something greater than the

first of animals; as he is the link between animal and spiritual beings, and partakes of both their natures; other faculties, and other principles, belonging to his nobler, spiritual part, disclose themselves; of which there are no traces in the animal world.

The first great distinction between the human and animal species, and which seems to mark their boundaries, is this: that it is in the power of man, by his own pains and industry, to forward the perfection of his nature. And what the nobler part of his nature is, is clearly pointed out by that distinction; because it is that nobler part only, or such of his animal faculties, as are necessary to forward the perfection of that nobler part, which are capable of improvement by such pains. All the organs and faculties of his body necessary to his animal life, are so fashioned by the hand of nature, that they grow of course to perfection; but the organs (if I may be allowed the expression) and faculties of his mind, necessary to his rational life, are only in embryo; and it depends wholly upon the assistance of others, together with his own care, to give them birth, and bring them to maturity.

Hence arises the necessity of a social state to man, both for the unfolding, and exerting of his nobler faculties. For this purpose, a power of opening a communication between mind and mind, was furnished in the most easy way, by bestowing on him the organs of speech. But still we are to observe, that nature did no more than furnish the power and means; she did not give the language, as in the case of the passions, but left it to the industry of men, to find out, and agree

upon such articulate sounds, as they should choose to make the symbols of their ideas. And she seems to have laid down the same general law, with respect to every thing which regarded the nobler part of man; to furnish nothing but what was absolutely necessary, and leave the rest to his own industry, from the exertion of which, his merit was to arise, and his pretensions to stand a candidate for admission into a higher, and happier order of beings. Accordingly as she did not furnish the words, which were to be the symbols of his ideas; neither did she furnish the tones, which were to manifest, and communicate by their own virtue, the internal exertions and emotions, of such of his nobler faculties, as chiefly distinguish him from the brute species; but left them also, like words, to the care and invention of man; contenting herself with supplying him with an instrument, of such a compass as would furnish a sufficient variety of emotions, exertions, and energies of all his faculties, if sought for, and settled by agreement, to be their marks. Nor has art found those which are of her invention to be of less efficacy, or less capable of exciting correspondent emotions, than those even of nature, when established by custom; in this case justly called second nature. The only difference between them lying in this, that the tones of the animal passions, of themselves excite analogous emotions, without the intervention of any thing else; they are understood, by being felt. But the tones resulting from the emotions and exertions of our nobler faculties, though they excite feeling, as it is in the nature of all tones to do so, yet it is only of a vague and

indeterminate nature; not corresponding to the energies in the mind of the speaker, unless they are associated with words, or the symbols of the ideas which give rise to those energies and emotions; their nature and degree then become fixed, and the hearer both feels and understands them. When any tones, therefore, are affixed to certain modes of expression, and adopted into general use; those tones, though they have no natural connexion with the sentiment, no more than words have with ideas; yet by such association, become equally intelligible, and equally affecting with those that have, and are made part of the language; insomuch, that were those expressions to be uttered, without those tones, they would not convey their full meaning.

Thus far I have considered tones, chiefly in contradistinction to words, as the types and language of the passions, and all internal emotions, in the same way as articulate sounds, are the types and language of ideas, independent of any such emotions. But when we come to examine the powers of each in their full extent, we shall find, that though words are limited to their peculiar office, and never can supply the place of tones; yet tones, on the other hand, are not confined to their province, but often supply the place of words, as marks of ideas. And though the ease and distinctness with which our ideas are marked by articulate sounds, has made all mankind agree to use them in discourse, yet that tones are capable in a great measure of supplying their place, is clear from-this; that the Chinese language is chiefly made up of tones, and the same indi

vidual word shall have sixty different meanings, according to the different tones in which it is pronounced. Here, then, it is clear, that fifty nine of the sixty ideas, are marked by tones; for the same individual word, pronounced exactly in the same manner, cannot possibly by itself, be a clear and distinct mark, for more than one idea. This indeed has prodigiously increased the difficulty of their language, so that it is scarcely possible for strangers to acquire it; and it is the labour of a man's life, even among the natives, to make himself fully master of it. Such a use of the tones therefore, in equal extent, has not been adopted by any other nation. But there are none which have it not in some degree. It is true these tones amongst us, are not annexed to words in their separate state, but only when they are ranged in sentences; and he must be very ignorant of speech, who does not know, that the same individual words in a sentence, shall have several very different meanings according to the tones which accompany the emphasis. To the use of these tones, is owing, in a great measure, conciseness of discourse; and the necessity of multiplying words in a language, to a degree that might make them burthensome to the memory, is removed. Nor are these the only advantages arising to language from tones; for by thus setting off words by tones, and making them determine their meaning, an agreeable variety may be introduced into the most abstracted and philosophical discourses, in which there is no room for the language of the passions and emotions; and which, consequently, must occasion disgust, and soon weary attention, if de