ave none of the varnish of
philosophical unbelief or finite reasoning. "In my opinion," says one of
the characters in the Dialogue, (to be identified as the author,)
"profound minds are the most likely to think lightly of the resources of
human reason; and it is the pert superficial thinker who is generally
strongest in every kind of unbelief. The deep philosopher sees changes
of causes and effects, so wonderfully and strangely linked together,
that he is usually the last person to decide upon the impossibility of
any two series of events being independent of each other; and in
science, so many natural miracles, as it were, have been brought to
light,--such as the fall of stones from meteors in the atmosphere, the
disarming a thundercloud by a metallic point, the production of fire
from ice by a metal white as silver, and referring certain laws of
motions of the sea to the moon,--that the physical inquirer is seldom
disposed to assert, confidently, on any abstruse subjects belonging to
the order of natural things, and still less so on those relating to the
more mysterious relations of moral events and intellectual natures."[7]

Many other passages in _Salmonia_ gush forth with great force and beauty,
and sometimes soar into sublime truths. Thus says the eloquent author:

"A full and clear river is, in my opinion, the most poetical object in
nature. Pliny has, as well as I recollect, compared a river to human life.
I have never read the passage in his works, but I have been a hundred
times struck with the analogy, particularly amidst mountain scenery. The
river, small and clear in its origin, gushes forth from rocks, falls into
deep glens, and wantons and meanders through a wild and picturesque
country, nourishing only the uncultivated tree or flower by its dew or
spray. In this, its state of infancy and youth, it may be compared to the
human mind in which fancy and strength of imagination are predominant--it
is more beautiful than useful. When the different rills or torrents join,
and descend into the plain, it becomes slow and stately in its motions;
it is applied to move machinery, to irrigate meadows, and to bear upon
its bosom the stately barge;--in this mature state, it is deep, strong,
and useful. As it flows on towards the sea, it loses its force and its
motion, and at last, as it were, becomes lost and mingled with the mighty
abyss of waters."

"I envy no quality of the mind or intellect in others; not genius,