y of our notice to recollect, that the same
reasonings which apply to our brethren of mankind, apply also to the
brute creation. They, like ourselves, act from motives; that is,
the elections they form are adopted by them for the sake of certain
consequences they expect to see result from them. Whatever becomes
therefore of the phenomena of what we call dead matter, we are here
presented with tribes of being, susceptible of pleasure and pain, of
hope and fear, of regard and resentment.

How beautifully does this conviction vary the scene of things! What
a source to us is the animal creation, of amusement, of curious
observations upon the impulses of inferior intellect, of the exhaustless
varieties of what we call instinct, of the care we can exercise for
their accommodation and welfare, and of the attachment and affection we
win from them in return! If I travel alone through pathless deserts, if
I journey from the rising to the setting sun, with no object around
me but nature's desolation, or the sublime, the magnificent and the
exuberant scenery she occasionally presents, still I have that noble
animal, the horse, and my faithful dog, the companions of my toil, and
with whom, when my solitude would otherwise become insufferable, I can
hold communion, and engage in dumb dialogues of sentiment and affection.

I have heard of a man, who, talking to his friend on the subject of
these speculations, said, "What then, are you so poor and pusillanimous
a creature, that you could not preserve your serenity, be perfectly
composed and content, and hold on your way unvaried, though you were
convinced that you were the only real being in existence, and all the
rest were mere phantasies and shadows?"

If I had been the person to whom this speech was addressed, I should
have frankly acknowledged, "I am the poor and pusillanimous creature you
are disposed to regard with so much scorn."

To adopt the sententious language of the Bible, "It is not good for man
to be alone." All our faculties and attributes bear relation to, and
talk to us of, other beings like ourselves. We might indeed eat, drink
and sleep, that is, submit to those necessities which we so denominate,
without thinking of any thing beyond ourselves; for these are the
demands of our nature, and we know that we cannot subsist without them.
We might make use of the alternate conditions of exercise and repose.

But the life of our lives would be gone. As far as we bore in