So little is human nature permitted to see, (nor perhaps is it capable
of comprehending much more than permitted,) that it is blind beyond
thought as to secondary causes; and admiration, that pure fountain of
intellectual pleasure, is almost the only power permitted to us. We see
a wonderfully fabricated creature, decorated with a vest of glorious art
and splendour, occupying almost its whole life in seeking for the most
fitting station for its own necessities, exerting wiles and stratagems,
and constructing a peculiar material to preserve its offspring against
natural or occasional injury, with a forethought equivalent to
reason--in a moment, perhaps, with all its splendour and instinct, it
becomes the prey of some wandering bird! and human wisdom and conjecture
are humbled to the dust. We can "see but in part," and the wisest of us
is only, perhaps, something less ignorant than another. This sense of a
perfection so infinitely above us, is the _natural_ intimation of a
Supreme Being; and as science improves, and inquiry is augmented, our
imperfections and ignorance will become more manifest, and all our
aspirations after knowledge only increase in us the conviction of
knowing nothing. Every deep investigator of nature can hardly be
possessed of any other than a humble mind.
* * * * *
THE PEACOCK.
(_For the Mirror._)
Of this bird, there are several species, distinguished by their
different colours.
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