Were this a proper place for considering the question as a question of science or truth, I would say, that every man who has been a _successful_ student of nature, and who will rest his conclusions on the same maxims of probable reasoning that have procured him success in his past researches, will consider it as next to certain that there is another state of existence for rational man. For he must own, that if this be not the case, there is a most singular exception to a proposition which the whole course of his experience has made him consider as a truth founded on universal induction, viz. that _nature accomplishes all her plans_, and that every class of beings attains all the improvement of which it is capable. Let him but turn his thoughts inward, he will feel that his intellect is capable of improvement, in comparison with which Newton is but a child. I could pursue this argument very far, and (I think) warm the heart of every man whom I should wish to call my friend. What opinion will be formed of this Association by the modest, the lowly-minded, the candid, who acknowledge that they too often feel the superior force of present and sensible pleasures, by which their minds are drawn off from the contemplation of what their consciences tell them to be right,--to be their dutiful and filial sentiments and emotions respecting their great and good Parent--to be their dutiful and neighbourly affections, and their proper conduct to all around them--and which diminish their veneration for that purity of thought and moderation of appetite which becomes their noble natures? What must _they_ think of this Order? Conscious of frequent faults, which would offend themselves if committed by their dearest children, they look up to their Maker with anxiety--are grieved to have so far forgotten their duty, and fearful that they may again forget it. Their painful experience tells them that their reason is often too weak, their information too scanty, or its light is obstructed by passion and prejudices, which distort and discolour every thing; or it is unheeded during their attention to present objects. Happy should they be, if it should please their kind Parent to remind them of their duty from time to time, or to influence their mind in any way that would compensate for their own ignorance, their own weakness, or even their indolence and neglect. They dare not expect such a favour, which their modesty tells them they do not deserve, and which they fear may be unfit to be granted; but when such a comfort is held out to them, with eager hearts they receive it--they bless the kindness that granted it, and the hand that brings it.----Such amiable characters have appeared in all ages, and in all situations of mankind. They have not in all instances been wise--often have they been precipitate, and have too readily caught at any thing which pretended to give them the so much wished-for assistances; and, unfortunately, there