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er profound argument, you, in a manner, give up the question, and confess, that it is not reasoning which engages us to suppose the past resembling the future, and to expect fimilar effects from causes, which are, to appearance, similar. This is the proposition which I intended to enforce in the present section. If I be right, I pretend not to have made any mighty discovery. And if I be wrong, I must acknowledge myself to be indeed a very backward scholar; fince I cannot now discover an argument, which, it seems, was perfectly familiar to to me, long before I was out of my cradle.

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SECTION V..

SCEPTICAL SOLUTION of these DOUBTS.

PARTI.

THE paffion for philofophy, like that for religion, seems liable to this inconvenience, that, though it aims at the correction of our manners, and extirpation of our vices, it may only serve, by imprudent management, to fofter a predominant inclination, and push the mind, with more determined resolution, towards that fide, which already draws too much, by the biass and propenfity of the natural temper. It is certain, that, while we aspire to the magnanimous firmness of the philosophic fage, and endeavour to confine our pleasures altogether within our own minds, we may, at last, render our philosophy like that of EPICTETUS, and other Stoics, only a more refined system of selfisiness, and reason ourselves out of all virtue, as well as focial enjoyment. While we study with attention the vanity of human life, and turn all our thoughts towards the empty and tranfitory nature of riches and honours, we are, perhaps, all the while, flattering our natural indolence, which, hating the bustle of the world, and drudgery of business, seeks a pretence of reason, to give itself a full and uncontroled indulgence. There is, however, one species of philofophy, which seems little liable to this inconvenience, and that because it strikes in with no diforderly

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disorderly passion of the human mind, nor can mingle itself with any natural affection or propensity, and that is the ACADEMIC OF SCEPTICAL philofophy. The academics talk always of doubt and suspense of judgment, of danger in hafty determinations, of confining to very narrow bounds the enquiries of the understanding, and of renouncing all speculations which lie not within the limits of common life and practice. Nothing, therefore, can be more contrary than such a philosophy to the supine indolence of the mind, its rash arrogance, its lofty pretenfions, and its fuperftitious credulity. Every pafsion is mortified by it, except the love of truth; and that passion never is, nor can be carried to too high a degree. It is surprising, therefore, that this philosophy, which, in almost every instance, must be harmless and innocent, should be the subject of so much groundless reproach and obloquy. But, perhaps, the very circumstance, which renders it so innocent, is what chiefly exposes it to the public hatred and resentment. By flattering no irregular passion, it gains few partizans: By opposing so many vices and follies, it raises to itself abundance of enemies, who stigmatize it as libestine, profane, and irreligious.

Nor need we fear, that this philosophy, while it endeavours to limit our enquiries to common life, should ever undermine the reasonings of common life, and carry its doubts so far as to destroy all action, as well as speculation. Nature will always maintain her rights, and prevail in the end over any abstract reasoning whatsoever. Though we should conclude, for instance, as in the foregoing section, that, in all reasonings from experience, there is a step taken by the mind, which is not supported by any argument or process of the understanding; there is no danger, that these reasonings, on which almost all knowledge depends, will ever be affected by such a discovery. If the mind be not engaged by argument to make this step, it must be induced by fome other principle of equal weight and authority; and that principle will preserve its influence as long as human nature remains the fame. What that principle is, may well be worth the pains of enquiry.

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Suppose a person, though endowed with the strongeft faculties of reason and reflection, to be brought on a fudden into this world; he would, indeed, immediately observe a continual succession of objects, and one event following another; but he would not be able to discover any thing farther. He would not, at first, by any reafoning, be able to reach the idea of cause and effect; fince the particular powers, by which all natural operations are performed, never appear to the senses; nor is it reasonable to conclude, merely because one event, in one instance, precedes another, that therefore the one is the cause, the other the effect. Their conjunction may be arbitrary and casual. There may be no reason to infer the existence of the one from the appearance of the other. And in a word, such a person, without more experience, could never employ his conjecture or reasoning concerning any matter or fact, or be assured of any thing beyond what was immediately present to his memory and fenfes.

Suppose again, that he has acquired more experience, and has lived so long in the world as to have observed fimilar objects or events to be constantly conjoined together; what is the consequence of this experience? He immediately infers the existence of the one object from the appearance of the other. Yet he has not, by all his experience, acquired any idea or knowledge of the fecret power, by which the one object produces the other;