may be the case here. We often speak of imitativeness as a principle which governs children; but are less willing to acknowledge, which is hardly less the fact, that it is a principle which governs men. We cannot doubt, from the reflection we have been able to bestow upon it, that the principle before us, whatever aspect it may pre sent at first sight, was designed to be, and is in fact, one of the important supports of society; a source of knowledge, happiness, and power. If this principle were obliterated, the bond of union which now holds so closely together the two great divisions of society, the old and the young, would be greatly weakened; an event, in all points of view, much to be deplored. Not only in childhood, but in mature age, as we have already had occasion to intimate, we walk in the steps of our fathers, following in arts and in manners the same practices, and sustaining the same institutions; and it is desirable, as a general thing, that we should do so. And we do it, not merely because we suppose them to be clothed with the attribute of superior wisdom, but also because we are prompted, often unconsciously to ourselves, by the influence of this powerful principle. And it is in this way, partly at least, that generation is connected with generation; that the torch of experience, lighted in the preceding age, is made to shed its beams over that which follows; and that society, kept in the vicinity of the beaten track, is not subject to sudden and disastrous convulsions.

We would merely add, if this principle has such vast influence, as we have no doubt that it has, it is incumbent on every one carefully to consider the nature and tendency of the example which he sets. He who sets a bad example, either in domestic or in public life, is not only blasted and withered in himself, but almost necessarily leads on in his train a multitude of others to the same results of degradation and ruin. On the contrary, he who does good in his day and generation, infuses, whether he designs it or not, the effulgence of his example into a multitude of hearts which nature has opened for its reception; and thus, with better and higher results, lights them upward to happiness and glory.

328. Of the natural desire of esteem.

Another important propensity, not resolvable into any thing else, but original, and standing on its own basis, is the desire of esteem.-In proof of the natural and original existence of this principle in the human mind, we are at liberty to appeal, as in the case of all the other propensities, to what we notice in the beginnings of life, and the first developements of the mental nature. Before children are capable of knowing the advantages which result from the good opinion of others, they are evidently mortified at expressions of neglect or contempt, and as evidently pleased with expressions of regard and approbation. As it is impossible satisfactorily to account for this state of things on the ground of its being the result of reasoning, experience, or interest, the only explanation left is, that this desire is a part of the connatural and essential furniture of the mind.

(II.) We may remark further, that the desire of esteem is found to exist very extensively and strongly in the more advanced periods of life. If we look at the history of nations and of individuals, how many men do we find who have been willing to sacrifice their life rather than forfeit the favourable opinion of others! When they have lost all besides, their health, their fortune, and friends, they cling with fondness to their good name; they point triumphantly to their unsullied reputation as a consolation in their present adversities, and the pledge of better things in time to come. This is especially true of those periods in the history of nations, when the original sentiments and traits of the people have not been corrupted by the introduction of the arts of luxury and refinement.

(III.) There is this consideration also, which has a bearing upon this topic. We are sometimes in such a situation, that the favourable or unfavourable opinion of others can have no possible bearing, so far as we can judge, on our own personal interests. And further than this, the unfavourable sentiment which we suppose to exist is not responded to in a single instance out of the particular circle of those who indulge it. It exists there, and there alone; without the possibility of affecting injuriously either our property or general reputation. And

yet it is difficult for us not to be affected unpleasantly; we feel as if the intentions of nature had been violated; as if some real wrong had been done us; as if we had been deprived of that which is obviously a right. If this view of the subject is correctly stated, as we have reason to think it is, it goes strongly against the doctrine that the desire of esteem is based upon personal and interested considerations, and not upon the intrinsic nature of the mind.

(IV.) It is an additional proof in favour of the natural origin of this propensity, that it operates strongly in reference to the future. We not only wish to secure the good opinion of others at the present time, and in reference to present objects, but are desirous that it should be permanent, whether we shall be in a situation directly to experience any good effects from it or not. Even after we are dead, although we shall be utterly separated, both from the applauses and the reprobations of men, still we wish to be held in respectful and honourable remembrance Fully convinced as we are that no human voice shall ever penetrate and disturb the silence of our tombs, the thought would be exceedingly distressing to us if we anticipated that our memories would be calumniated. We may attempt to reason on the folly of such feelings, but we find it impossible to annul the principles planted within us, and to stifle the voice of nature speaking in the breast.

§ 329. Of the desire of esteem as a rule of conduct.

The operation of this principle, when kept within its due and appropriate limits, is favourable to human happiness. It begins to operate at a very early period of life, long before the moral principles have been fully brought out and established; and it essentially promotes a decency and propriety of deportment, and stimulates to exertion. Whenever a young man is seen exhibiting an utter disregard of the esteem and approbation of others, the most unfavourable anticipation may be formed of him; he has annihilated one of the greatest restraints on an evil course which a kind Providence has implanted within us, and exposes himself to the hazard of unspeakable vice

and misery. It is narrated of Sylla, the Roman Dictator, that, on a certain occasion, happening to see Julius Cæsar walking immodestly in the streets, he remarked to those around him that he foresaw in that young man many Mariuses; distinctly intimating, that a person so destitute of regard for the feelings and opinions of others, would be likely to take a course dictated by his sensuality or ambition, irrespective in a great degree of the admonitions of conscience and of considerations of the public good. A prediction founded in a knowledge of the principles of human nature, and abundantly verified by the result.

But while we distinctly recognise in the desire of esteem an innocent and highly useful principle, we are carefully to guard, on the other hand, against making the opinion of others the sole and ultimate rule of our conduct. Temporary impulses and peculiar local circumstances may operate to produce a state of public sentiment, to which a good man cannot conscientiously conform. In all cases where moral principles are involved, there is another part of our nature to be consulted. In the dictates of an enlightened Conscience, we find a code to which not only the outward actions, but the appetites, propensities, and affections, are amenable, and which infallibly prescribes the limits of their just exercise. To obey the suggestions of the desire of esteem, in opposi tion to the requisitions of conscience, would be to subvert the order of the mental constitution, and to transfer the responsibility of the supreme command to a mere sentinel of the outposts.

§ 330. Of the desire of possession.

We are so constituted, that we naturally and necessa rily have not only a knowledge of objects, but of a multitude of relations which they sustain. And, among other things, we very early form a notion of the relation of POSSESSION. There are but few suggestions of the intellect with which the mind forms so early an acquaintance as with this. Whenever we see children, as we constantly do, contending with each other for the occupancy of a chair or the control of a rattle, we may be assured that

they have distinctly formed the idea of possession. They know perfectly well what it is, although they cannot define it, and may possibly not be able to give a name to it Although there can, in reality, be no actual possession without involving the existence of a relation, since the fact or actuality of possession implies, on the one hand, an object which is possessed, and on the other a possessor; nevertheless, as the notion or idea of possession, exists suggestively and abstractly in the mind, it is to be regarded as a single and definite object, distinctly perceptible in the mind's eye, and sustaining the same relation to the sensibilities as any other object or relation, either mental or material, which is susceptible of being intellectually represented. Of possession, as thus explained, existing as it were distinctly projected and imbodied in the light of the mental vision, all men appear to have a natural or implanted desire. The fact of its existence, either actual or possible, is revealed in the intellect; and the heart, with an instinctive impulse, corresponds to the perception of the intellect by yielding its complacency and love.

§ 331. Of the moral character of the possessory principle.

Although the desire of possession (the possessory principle, or propension, as it might be conveniently termed) has undoubtedly, like the other propensities, its instinctive action, yet its morality, that is to say, its moral character, depends wholly upon the features of its voluntary action. We are not disposed to speak, as some on a slight examination might be inclined to do, of the possessory principle as being, in a moral sense, an unmixed evil. So far as its action may be regulated, either in the form of restraint or of encouragement, by reason, reflection, and the control, either direct or indirect, of the will, (all of which is implied when we speak of its voluntary action,) just so far it is capable of being either right or wrong, reprehensible or meritorious. When acting independently of all comparison and reflection, it assumes the form of an instinct, is often in that form beneficial, and always innocent; when it usurps the authority due to other and higher principles, prompting us to look with an evil eve