even when standing ftill, we get a proof of contrivance, and of a contriving mind, having been employed about it. In the form and obvious relation of its parts we see enough to convince us of this. If we pull the works in pieces, for the purpose of a closer examination, we are still more fully convinced. But, when we see the watch going, we fee proof of another point, viz. that there is a power fomewhere and fomehow or other, applied to it; a power in action; that there is more in the subject than the mere wheels of the machine; that there is a fecret fpring or a gravitating plummet; in a word, that there is force and energy, as well as mechanifm.

So then, the watch in motion eftablishes to the observer two conclufions: one; that thought, contrivance, and defign, have been employed in the forming, proportioning, and arranging of its parts; and that, whoever or wherever he be, or were, fuch a contriver there is, or was: the other; that force or power, distinct from mechanifm, is, at this present time, acting upon it. If I faw a handmill even at reft, I fhould fee contrivance; but, if I faw it grinding, I fhould be affured that a hand was at the windlafs, though in another

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ano her room. It is the fame in nature. In the works of nature we trace mechanifm; and this alone proves contrivance: but living, active, moving, productive nature, proves also the exertion of a power at the centre; for, wherever the power refides, may be denominated the centre.

The intervention and difpofition of what are called “second causes" fall under the fame obfervation. This difpofition is or is not mechanism, according as we can or cannot trace it by our fenfes, and means of examination, That is all the difference there is; and it is a difference which respects our faculties, not the things themfelves. Now where the order of fecond caufes is mechanical, what is here faid of mechanism ftrictly applies to it. But it would be always mechanism (natural chy mistry, for instance, would be mechanism} if our fenfes were acute enough to defcry it. Neither mechanifm, therefore in the works of nature, nor the intervention of what are called fecond causes, (for I think that they are the fame thing,) excufe the neceffity of an agent diftinct from both.

If, in tracing thefe caufes, it be faid, that we find certain general properties of matter,

which have nothing in them that befpeaks intelligence, I anfwer, that, ftill, the managing of these properties, the pointing and directing them to the ufes which we see made of them, demands intelligence in the highest degree. For example, fuppofe animal fecretions to be elective attractions, and that fuch and fuch attractions univerfally belong to fuch and such fubftances; in all which there is no intellect concerned; ftill the choice and collocation of thefe fubftances, the fixing upon right fubftances and difpofing them in right places, muft be an act of intelligence. What mischief would follow, were there a fingle transposition of the fecretory organs; a fingle mistake in arranging the glands which compofe them?

There may be many fecond causes, and many courses of fecond caufes, one behind another, between what we obferve of nature, and the Deity; but there must be intelligence fomewhere; there must be more in nature than what we fee; and, amongst the things unfeen, there must be an intelligent, defigning, author. The philofopher beholds with astonishment the production of things around him. Unconscious particles of matter take their stations, and severally range themselves in an order,

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order, fo as to become collectively plants or animals, i. e. organized bodies, with parts bearing ftrict and evident relation to one another, and to the utility of the whole and it should seem that these particles could not move in any other way than as they do, for they testify not the smallest sign of choice, or liberty, or discretion. There may be plaftic natures, particular intelligent beings, guiding thefe motions in each cafe: or they may be the refult of trains of mechanical difpofitions, fixed beforehand by an intelligent appointment, and kept in action by a power at the centre. But in either cafe, there must be intelligence.

The minds of moft men are fond of what they call a principle, and of the appearance of fimplicity, in accounting for phænomena. Yet this principle, this fimplicity, is fometimes nothing more than in the name; which name, comprises, perhaps, under it a diverfified, multifarious, or progreffive operation, diftinguishable into parts. The power, in organized bodies, of producing bodies like themfelves, is one of thefe principles. Give a philofopher this, and he can get on. not reflect, what this principle,

But he does

(if such he

chufe

chufe to call it,) what this mode of production, requires; how much it presupposes; what an, apparatus of inftruments, fome of which are ftrictly mechanical, is neceffary to its fuccefs; what a train it includes of operations and changes, one fucceeding another, one related to another, one miniftring to another; all advancing, by intermediate, and, frequently, by fenfible steps, to their ultimate refult. Yet, because the whole of this complicated action is wrapped up in a single term, generation, we are to set it down as an elementary principle; and to suppose, that, when we have refolved the things which we fee into this principle, we have fufficiently accounted for their origin, without the neceffity of a defigning, intelligent Creator. The truth is, generation is not a principle, but a process. We might as well call the cafting of metals a principle: we might, so far as appears to me, as well call spinning and weaving principles: and then, referring the texture of cloths, the fabric of muflins and callicoes, the patterns of diapers and damafks, to thefe as principles, pretend to dispense with intention, thought, and contrivance, on the part of the artift; pense, indeed, with the necessity of 2G 3

or to dif

any artist

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