have no need of those little methodical distinctions which oftentimes help the imperfections of our intellects. Now, though we do not assert, that the language of the holy seriptures is an exact copy of the reasoning of the spiritual world; yet since they came by the inspiration of the holy ghost, it is but reasonable to expect that they should preserve some small relish of it; as books translated into another tongue always retain some marks of their originals. And hence it comes to pass, that though the holy ghost does vouchsafe to speak in the language of men, yet, in his divine compositions, there are some traces to be found of that bold and unlimited ratiocination which is peculiar to the heavenly inhabitants, whose noble and flaming thoughts are never clogged with the cold and jejune laws of human method.

XI. The prolific nature of vice.

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Ir often happens, that the commission of one crime makes another necessary, in order to supply the defici ency of the first, in the attainment of its end. One bad action is found, of itself, to be incomplete. It requires either a repetition of the same, or the commission of another, to accomplish the point at which it aims. Its incompetence, perhaps, to the production of the effect for which it was committed, was not foreseen: and thus the criminal finds himself drawn, by one deviation from duty, into more than he intended. By this means, single step in the path of error is stretched to an ample stride; and the mind is, in a manner, habituated to wickcdness, even in the beginning of it. It becomes as it were depraved, even by a single stroke. In this case, the probability of continuance in the path, that has been entered, must be considered as peculiarly increased. "This is frequently the case. The vices hang together. They help one another. They cohere and cluster. Misfortunes, says the proverb, seldom come alone: it is much more seldom that evil actions do. "Rare are solitary woes, "it is true; but much rarer are solitary sins. They, also, "love a train ;" they also, 66 tread each other's heel." He that seeks to separate one from the

nest, to take one to him and keep off all the others; will find the meditated exclusion impracticable. Can he, who opens his door to a concourse of people without, pressing for admittance, be sure of admitting only one? He, that opens his heart to one bad action, will, in the same manner, find many enter along with it. His breast will become full of evil, when he intended only to have entertained a single sin.

Most criminal acts, when they seek the alliance of no other, court the concurrence of falsehood. This is usu ally coupled with breaches of duty, that are most detached and insulted. "Come now therefore, and let us slay him," said the sons of Jacob to one another, and cast him into some pit, and we will say some evil beast hath devoured him.' When in the pursuit of any sin gle point, by criminal means, there is no other succession of evil to evil, this short and simple procession commouly takes place.

When the original crime is falshood, in order to answer some sinister purpose, it frequently happens, that one departure from truth is not sufficient to accomplish the point. Sometimes there is need of a frequent repetition, of the same violation of veracity. Peter must thrice deny, that he knew his master. This necessity often occurs to him, who stoops to say what is not true. He thought, perhaps, as Peter thought, that a single declaration would have done. He finds himself questioned by different persons; to different persons the lie must be told. Sometimes recourse must be had to the fabrication of another, in order to support the first. And, thus, the unhappy wanderer from truth finds it frequently neces sary to put together a phalanx of falshood; to compose a complicated system of deceit, in order to defend and cover the original deceit from detection.

In the same manner, it is often found, that one act of violence calls unexpectedly for another, in order to render it complete, Robbery, a first robbery, has sometimes terminated in murder, when nothing was farther from the original intent of the robber, than that frightful act: when in the morning of the day on which he did it, the proposal of such an act would have made every hair of his head stand up, and driven every drop of blood from his check; when, even the moment before he did it,

the idea of such a deed entered not into his heart. Pecuniary embarrassment prevails upon him to make an essay of force upon the traveller's purse. He goes forth from the village where he dwells, intending only to extri. cate himself from his present difficulty, and then return to the hamlet, and lead an innocent and reputable life. O! for a warning voice, to tell him the horror that awaits him! to tell him, how much deeper than he dreams, he is going to plunge himself into guilt! Unexpected resistance from the passenger he selects to plun der exasperates his passions, and hurries his hand to a fatal violence; or a declaration, equally unlooked for, of a knowledge of his person, suddenly suggests to him the horrid idea of taking away the breath, that may bear testimony against him. This is no uncommon case.

One sanguinary act, in which more than one was concerned, is often followed by another, to prevent the discovery of the first. The first was all that was projected by either of the party. The second was a secon dary suggestion. The accomplice may betray the secret, from imprudence; from remorse; from revenge; in the moment of mad resentment: the only means are employed to remove all possibility of such a communication.

Innumerable are the ways, in which injury seeks the support of injury. When David had invaded Uriah's bed, he must next invade his person. He must escape from the consequences of the first injustice, by the perpetration of the second. After having rendered the greatest of all wrongs, he must close the lip of complaint, by sealing it in everlasting silence. He must put the hand of death upon the mouth of reproach; and throw the chain of mortality upon the arm of brave revenge. And this inhuman deed he must do, in order to secure himself, in the most base, and cowardly manner.

The productive and prolific nature of vice, in this respect, is strikingly, though terribly, illustrated, in the picture which your great dramatist has drawn, of him, who, in violation of the laws of hospitality, consanguinity, gratitude, and loyalty, is represented, in the all-thrilling page of that great lord of every bosom, as being instiga. ted by ambition, to "hold the knife," at dead of night, over his guest, his kinsman, his benefactor, and his prince.

This act, though, in itself, an act of complicated guilt, iş yet complicated with others of a similar nature, in or der to complete the accomplishment of the purpose it was to answer. When he has perpetrated this deed, the only one that entered into his original intention, he finds, that if he mean to attain his end, the work of death is but begun. In order to prevent a discovery of his guilt, and to secure the crown it has placed upon his brow, he perceives, that he must pass through a tragical process, and wade through a sea of blood. The words which the' author puts into his mouth, to express his resolution to persevere in the black business upon which he had entered, contain the sentiment I am attempting to illustrate:

"Things bad begun make themselves strong by ill."

The same sort of link and alliance, which subsists between single acts of vice, subsists also between different COURSES of vicious conduct. The ruling passion, whatever it be, seeks the assistance of practices, which it does not itself directly prompt. One evil habit calls, after a time, for the concurrence, and co-operation of another evil habit, in order to attain its end. A train of one kind of criminal actions requires the ministration of a train of another kind.

He, who sets out in pursuit of pleasures, engages in the pursuit, under the idea of contracting only sensual guilt; which, he prevails upon himself to believe, is no guilt at all. He calls it folly; he calls it vivacity; he calls it spirit; or, whatever be its admitted impropriety, in the eye of stern and strict reason, he boasts of his social innocence; perhaps of his social MERIT. "In gratifying my sensual appetites," he says, "I injure nobody. I am no one's enemy. Heaven forbid, I should act, in any case, inconsistently with the strictest principles of integrity; with the nicest rules of honour. Justice I revere; generosity I adore; my donative is ever at the service of necessity: no friend, that comes to my door, in the day of his distress, shall ever find any coolness in my look; I am ready to divide my last crumb with a companion-in penury and wretchedness: where is the harm; who is hurt; if I strew my short passage to the grave with as many flowers as I am able to scatter along it?-If, by my excesses, my health is impaired, who but myself is injured.

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Who else has any reason to complain? I bring no infirmities upon you: they are not your spirits I exhaust: it is not your life that I shorten."

This is a specious, it is a sparkling, style. It has dazzled many a juvenile understanding. But attend a little. Await the sequel of the SOCIAL sensualist; of the BENEVOLENT voluptuary; the JUST, the GENEROUS, the HONOURABLE, lover of pleasure. He that loveth it too well, and too long, becomes a poor man. Profusion reduces his store, so as to call for an immediate retrenchment of his expenses. His appetites, clamorous for their accustomed food, refuse to be pacified without it. They demand to be satisfied, with a voice, he wants the forti. tude to oppose. He can now no longer satisfy them, without proceeding to a breach of the social duties; without keeping back what he owes to those, who have supplied his luxurious accommodations; without applying to his own use what was trusted to his hand; without setting to sale, if he possess a seat, his suffrage, in the senate; without carrying that integrity, which " can. not be gotten for gold," to the political market; without taking the bread of his family to the table of fortune; without leaving it to the determination of a die, whether his posterity shall be beggars or not. In order to continue a sensualist, he must now become a robber, a traitor, a savage.