The mind ordinarily has some object of interest which it is pursuing-some wish is to be gratified-some cause to be searched out some good to be gained. A mental picture arises before the mind composed of various objects. Among these associated objects, those which are most consonant with the leading desires of the mind become vivid and distinct, and the others fade away. Then by the law of association these prominent objects soon gather around them the various associates with which they have been connected at times when the mind was excited by desire or emotion, and thus a new picture is formed. In this new combination the mind again fastens on those objects which are in agreement with the chief interest of the mind, and these stand out from the rest with fresh vividness, and gather around them past associates to form another picture. And thus the mental process is carried on, until outward objects affect the senses and change this process of mental action. But objects that affect the senses have all been associated with other objects, at periods when the mind was excited by desire and emotion, and so these associated ideas are recalled even by outward objects. Thus it is clear that the nature and succession of our thoughts are very greatly determined by the nature of our plans, purposes and desires.

There is one other very important fact in our mental history. When the mind, in a state of indecision, contemplates two incompatible modes of enjoyment, it feels a desire for both, but after duly considering which will be best on the whole, it makes its election; and after this decision, the desire for the thing which is relinquished usually diminishes. For example, if a man decides that a certain kind of food is injurious, the firm determination not to touch it usually lessens the desire for it. The mind is seldom excited by any strong desire for a thing which it is certain can never be attained. If it were discovered that we could all visit the moon by an easy and safe method, it is probable that multitudes would be agitated by a strong desire to go, but how seldom and how faint are the desires now felt for such a journey! So men will be agitated by the strongest desire for wealth and honor within their reach, but how few are stimulated by such fervent desires to be a king or queen! Desire then is dependent in some degree on the hope of attainment. Whenever therefore the mind has decided not

to attempt to gain a given enjoyment, then hope ceases, and desire is consequently diminished,-while the object chosen usually increases in interest and importance the longer it is pursued. How often do we find it the case, that a man enters upon some enterprise with very little interest, and pursues it with increasing enthusiasm, till every thing else seems to be absorbed by this engrossing object!

We are now prepared to trace the influence which generic volitions exert upon our perceptions, conceptions, desires, emotions, tastes and pursuits. To do this in a less abstract form, let us suppose a young man to be placed in a situation where he must decide for himself whether he will be a soldier or a farmer. His youthful friend urges him to unite with him in the military profession-his father urges him to remain at home, and seek wealth and station in his native village, by the cultivation of his patrimony. It may be he balances long, but at length he decides to become a soldier. Immediately his thoughts and feelings begin to run in a new channel. His mind is immediately ranging in its conceptions, through the course of his journey, to the scenes and pursuits of the military school, thence to the camp and battle-field. Soon his tastes are changed. His interest in all subjects connected with the cultivation of his patrimony diminishes, he acquires a love for mathematics, a taste for drawing a passion for military music. His desires, hopes, fears and anxieties are all changed. One single act of volition, which was quick as the lightning flash, decided what would be the nature of millions of consequent volitions, and of all the desires, emotions, tastes and pursuits connected with them.

To show more minutely how this generic volition would influence future states of mind. let us suppose this young soldier to have commenced his military career. He enters a large city; and what are the objects that most vividly affect his senses? They are the arsenal, the waving flag of his country, the fort, the military articles in the shops, the military characters and battle scenes displayed at the windows. He enters some public assembly and finds a young orator declaiming in favor of agricultural pursuits, and drawing a disparaging contrast between the benevolent agencies of the farmer and the baleful career of the soldier. The young soldier is instantly excited by a strong desire to de

fend his profession. Instantly his mind is filled with associated thoughts, and, from this medley, all those points that seem fitted to convince himself or others of the benefits of his profession, stand out in vivid distinctness, while others, not in consonance with his leading desire, fade away, and thus the whole process of reasoning will be varied by the deep interest he feels.

And so in regard to his emotions. Suppose the mail to arrive what is it that awakens anxiety, that flushes his cheek with hope as he goes? What makes his eye sparkle with joy as he reads? It is not the rise of stocks, not the prospect of a high market price. It is some change in military arrangements, that will advance him in his pursuit of military fame. How different would have been his thoughts his tastes, his reasonings, his hopes, his fears, his joys, if this young man had chosen the agricultural profession instead of the military! This may serve to illustrate the influence of generic volitions on other mental operations.

There is another fact in the history of mind which few will deny. It is, that one particular mode of gratification may become the chief object of interest and pursuit, so that in common parlance it is called the ruling passion. When the mind is under the control of a ruling passion, although all other modes of enjoyment may be sought, to a greater or less extent, yet when they are found to conflict with this chief end, they are inevitably denied. Thus it has been known that the desire of revenge has overcome every other desire, and has been pursued with implacable pertinacity, by day and by night, at the sacrifice of every other enjoy. ment, till it was satiated.

Thus the passion of love, in certain cases, has been the mainspring of action to a mind, and every other good has been sacrificed when in competition with this master passion. In other cases ambition has been the ruling principle to which every other good was regarded as secondary. It is manifest that mind which is under the control of such a ruling principle, has all its susceptibilities and all its intellectual operations regulated by it. While such a principle exists, it is as impossible to change the thoughts, emotions and desires by any specific acts of volition to do so, as it is to turn the current of a river by a straw.

The question now arises; Has mind the power to regulate

this matter can it decide whether to have a ruling passion, and what this passion shall be? Here is the chief battleground for free agency.

There are but three things that can be conceived of as deciding what shall be the ruling passion. The first is the constitutional organization of the mind, whereby it is made so susceptible to one species of enjoyment as invariably to prefer it to all others; second, the circumstances in which men are placed, so that having only certain modes of enjoyment in their reach, they are restricted to particular enjoyments, and in selecting from these, the decision turns on constitutional susceptibilities. The third supposition is, that man himself has, by the power of volition, the control of his desires and pursuits, so that, though constitution and circumstances have an influence in deciding his course, he himself has the controlling power. Thus, whatever may be his constitutional susceptibilities, or whatever circumstances of temptation may surround him, he always has the power of deciding which mode of enjoyment shall be sought in preference to all others.

The fatalist maintains that a man's destiny is decided entirely and only by his constitution and his circumstances, both of which God determines. The defender of free agency brings in God and man as co-workers in deciding man's destiny. God decides what shall be the constitutional susceptibilities and their relative proportions, and his agency regulates the circumstances of temptation. But man also can, to a great degree, control circumstances; he can by his volitions decide many of his future circumstances, while at the same time he can, to a certain extent, modify his susceptibilities. And at all times he can choose or refuse any kind of good that is put within his reach. God always has the power to prevent any given volition by a change of circumstance, man is able to prevent any given volition by the power of free agency. Thus nothing that depends on man's volitions can take place contrary to God's will, and yet man always retains the power of taking or refusing any mode of enjoyment within his reach. Man never can say that he could not have chosen otherwise.

It is therefore maintained that every human mind has the power of selecting some one mode of enjoyment, as the chief end, to which all others shall be subordinate; and that SECOND SERIES, VOL. IV. NO. II.

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afterwards he has also the power to give up one ruling passion, and originate another.

An example which illustrates both these positions is given by Foster, in his essay on Decision of Character. He describes the case of a young man of fortune, who was a spendthrift. The chief end of his life was to secure those sensual gratifications that money can purchase. The pleasures of sense were his chief end, and money was of no value but as a means to this end. He wasted his estate and became a beggar. One day, standing on an eminence overlooking his patrimony, he suddenly formed the determination that he would recover it. He started off immediately, and began to do the most menial services for hire. He saved every penny, and denied himself like an anchorite-did and thought of nothing but how to make money through a long life, and died an inveterate miser, worth sixty thousand pounds.

The writer might describe, from personal observation, some instances very similar to the above; but this may suffice to illustrate the idea. In the case of this miser, he had no previous constitutional propensities, no habits, no principles to lead to that character, nor were there any other circumstances, to urge to diligence and economy, than had existed some time before the moment of his decision. The whole character of his interests, feelings, plans and pursuits were reversed by a single act of volition, and this act he had the power to withhold or to reverse.

Among other susceptibilities common to all minds, is that which may be called involuntary or instinctive benevolence. Every mind, to a greater or less extent, feels a pleasure in conferring enjoyment on others. Some have this principle very strong, some are very deficient ; but even among young children, we find their parents characterizing some as generous and benevolent by nature, and others as naturally very selfish. This natural susceptibility has nothing of a moral nature, and, unrestrained by reason, may lead to as much evil as the unregulated indulgence of any natural propensity.

The writer has been acquainted with a person whose career through life exhibits the evils of the unregulated indulgence of this susceptibility. When he entered the active scenes of life, he seemed to become the victim of his kind