could have willed otherwise," is a bitter ingredient of remorse. In several passages Mr. Hazard seems to concede the reality of the power to the contrary. Speaking of a wrong-doer, he says (p. 166): "He must have been able to will rightly, for his knowledge, which is the only limit to this ability, embraced all that was essential to action morally right." We read also (p. 306): "God never permits such action without a monition through the moral sense, warning us to refrain from the mutilation or degradation of our being, and suggesting search of that knowledge which, by a faith in the wisdom and goodness of the Supreme Intelligence, intuitive or early acquired, we know will reconcile gratification and duty." These passages seem to imply that there was power fully adequate, in the first case, to an opposite determination of the will, and, in the second case, to another determination in the room of the one actually taking place, - another which would have resulted in an opposite one. On the other hand, there are various passages which make the connection between volition and want, or knowledge, or both, to be of such a nature that the power to an opposite act of will seems to be precluded. We read (p. 227): "The inability to will what or when he does not want to will, is not opposed to freedom. Such ideas of freedom are absurd and contradictory." The context may possibly render this passage indecisive as to the point in question. We find, however (on p. 382), the following statement: "The fallacy of the argument. . . . lies in supposing that after the mind has, by a decision or judgment, directed its volition or effort, freedom still requires that some other volition or effort should be possible." "If there is of necessity a connection between this decision and effort, this only proves that the mind is of necessity free in such effort." Now the want and the knowledge are, in the first instance, innate; and then, if we understand our author aright, a volition opposite to the one that actually occurred would have been impossible. At least, the possibility of such an opposite volition is not necessary to freedom. The mind, it is held, on the occasion of its want and knowledge, puts forth of itself its volitive energy. But is not the particular mode of voluntary action, after all, a necessary effect of the constitution of the mind? In other words, is not the mind

constrained, not ab extra, but by its nature, to will as it does,— its want and knowledge, which by the supposition are involuntary, being what they are? And is this freedom? Is it freedom on which moral accountableness can be founded? The admission of a power of contrary choice does not of necessity involve a denial of the uniformity of action as a fact. The author's reasonings elsewhere, where he treats of this last topic, make the truth of this statement evident. It might be supposed that room is given for the power of contrary choice, in cases where the mind deliberates for the purpose of increasing its knowledge, either as to the want which it should gratify or the best means of attaining a chosen end. But as far as acts of will enter into this process of reflection, whether in initiating it or breaking it off, they are subject to the same conditions as all other acts of will. They result from a want and from a knowledge, and take place therefore, we infer, with no more possibility of the opposite volition than exists elsewhere. Yet it might be argued that our author's positions, respecting the uniformity of action, the fact of which he questions, and respecting the power to put forth volition arbitrarily in the absence of a motive to a particular form of choice, better harmonize with the supposition that a "power to the contrary inheres in the will.

From the most recent publication of Mr. Hazard, we find that the impression as to his views on the "power to the contrary," which we had derived from his treatise, is correct. That is to say, he does not admit its existence, and he argues that it is not requisite for freedom. "Our freedom in willing," he says (p. 133), "is evinced by our willing to do what we want to do, and it cannot be necessary to this freedom that we should be able even to try to do what we do not want to try to do." Want, according to our author, is not an act of will, — it is involuntary. If now we cannot will except in accordance with the want, is there freedom? Is not the act of the will a necessary result of the constitution of the willing agent, as truly so, though in a different way, as the want itself? Is there responsibility, when we cannot avoid having the want, and cannot avoid willing in conformity with it? Mr Hazard says:

"As against Sir William Hamilton's inferring freedom directly from consciousness, you say, 'To be conscious of free will must mean to be conscious, before I have decided, that I am able to decide either way.' I would say, that to be conscious of free will must mean to be conscious, before I have decided, that it is I that am to decide; that I am to determine my own act of will at my own pleasure, or as on examination I shall find will suit me best. The case you state, whether one will prefer to murder or not to murder, does not raise the question of freedom in willing, but only of preferring, or choosing, which, though heretofore held to be the same as willing, you agree with me is something entirely different. The willing to murder is just as free as the willing not to murder, and the only question touching the freedom of the willing is the same in either case; namely, Does the being as he is, good or bad, himself determine to make the effort to murder or not to make it? Whether he determine to make, or not to make, may indicate what his character is, but has no bearing upon the question of his freedom."

Consciousness of free will is thus identified with the consciousness that I am to put forth an act of will conformably to an intellectual act in regard to which I am not free. This intellectual act being what it is, I cannot will otherwise. Does this conception of freedom furnish an adequate ground of moral accountableness? Does not the mind, in this whole process, conform to a law of its being from which it would be impossible for it to deviate? If it be said that this determination or decision, which precedes the act of will, is itself due indirectly to prior acts of the will, the reply is, that these also can be followed back to a primary decision of the same nature. There is no break in the chain. Is it not more reasonable to regard the determination or decision, in the case supposed, as itself a voluntary act? And does it not imply a deeper, underlying, voluntary preference of something opposed to the highest good, an immanent habit of will?

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In this account of Mr. Hazard's treatise we have done less than justice to its merits. The subtile and original trains of argumentation which are pursued are hardly more remarkable than the fresh and striking illustrations by which the author's doctrines are explained and enforced. One great idea, that the mind itself is capable of originating action, of beginning effort in the absence of all other causative power or

force, pervades the entire discussion. This idea is set forth as the prime characteristic of freedom, and is defended against various forms of necessitarian objection with an ingenuity rarely surpassed. The admiration which the ability of Mr. Hazard's writings has excited is by no means limited to those who coincide with his philosophical opinions. The "Two Letters on Causation and Freedom in Willing," which are addressed to Mr. Mill, and which have just been given to the public in a revised form, are sufficient of themselves to entitle the author to a place in the front rank of metaphysical writers.

GEORGE P. FISHER.

ART. III. INDIAN MIGRATIONS.

In this article I intend to present such evidence bearing upon the migrations of the North American Indians as may be drawn from a consideration of physical conditions, especially the influence of abundant means of subsistence; and, in a second and concluding article, such other evidence upon the same subject as may be derived from their systems of consanguinity, their relative positions, languages, and traditions, and in addition, notices of such actual migrations as are known to have occurred. A determination of the probable source of the aboriginal inhabitants of South America will be involved in the general conclusions I seek to establish.

Since the materials we now possess are insufficient for a conclusive discussion of this subject, some of the views presented will be necessarily conjectural. But as philosophical speculations precede systems of philosophy, so historical speculations often lead the way to veritable history. In the present state of our knowledge, the great movements of the American aborigines in pre-historic ages still lie within the domain of speculation. A probable hypothesis with respect to the initial point of these migrations is the utmost we may hope at present to reach.

It will be my principal object to bring together a body of facts, bearing upon these migrations, which tend to establish

their starting-point in the valley of the Columbia River, and at the outset three propositions will be assumed to be true: First, that there was a time, in the past, when North and South America were destitute of human inhabitants. Second, that at the period of the discovery of their several parts a pecple were found thinly scattered over their vast areas, who agreed so minutely in physical and mental characteristics, that they all received a common name, and were regarded, whether correctly or incorrectly, as a common stock. And third, that the epoch of their first occupation was of very ancient date.

With respect to the first proposition, no discussion is necessary. The second, though of limited significance, is nevertheless important. From New Mexico to Patagonia, including the West India Islands, the Spanish navigators and explorers found this singular people universally distributed, and bestowed upon them, all alike, the name of Indians. They observed no difference in type, but, on the contrary, abundant evidence of a common type. The English and French met the aborigines from near the confines of the Arctic Sea to New Mexico, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and pronounced them, without distinction, American Indians. This uniform testimony of the first discoverers, the general truthfulness of which has been confirmed by all subsequent observers, tends to establish one of two alternative conclusions, either that all these aboriginal nations were of immediately common descent, or that this uniformity in physical characteristics was the result of a continuous intermingling of blood.

Upon the third proposition, it may be observed that the occupation of America by the ancestors of the present Indians extends backward to a remote age, covering a period of many thousand years. If the unity of their origin is assumed, the lapse of many ages would be requisite to break an original language into the several existing stock languages, of which there are forty, more or less, in North America alone, the number which have perished being unknown,- and to allow these in turn to pass into the multitude of dialects which are now spoken. On the contrary, if a diverse origin is assumed, it would still require several thousand years for two or more families genetically unconnected, and occupying such immense