Such is the object that forces itself upon the mind, when liberated from the baser passions of humanity, the spirit can indulge in its own lofty aspirations--it feels a noble elevation of purpose in contemplating the improvement of its being--and it feels capable of following out a design so beautiful,--there is a dimly revealed pleasure in devoting every energy to the acquisition of an end so glorious, and the pleasure is pure, elevated, and ennobling, it is neither transient nor violent, but it seems to be breathed into the heart, making it wiser, better, and happier--It is not the pleasure that we have sought for in life, but the calm and quiet enjoyment that is referred to the mind, as the seat of all pure and rational delight: and to the brain, as a pleasure that will endure and increase, and fade not away like the momentary intoxications of animal delight: the pleasure of a good object is referrible to the mind, and to the brain as the seat of that mind, and we ask, Is the mind the offspring of that brain? or, Is the brain the organ through which the mind acts? a moment's thought answers the question; in a few short years that brain will be mouldering away in the silent tomb, whilst the mind that animated it, can never die; thus then we arrive at the seat of the mind, a fact universally allowed by all philosophers, in all places, and at all times, and by reasoning upon this simple fact, we are led through progressive stages of induction, until we have arrived at a knowledge of that most valuable but most difficultly exercised faculty, Self-control.