as bishop Berkeley, who was of too excellent a character intentionally to deceive, after having proved, as he thought to a demonstration, that there was no such thing as a material world, gravely give out, that by proving it he had made a mighty reformation for the better in philosophy. When, however, Hume made his appearance, and, reasoning conclusively as he did from the premises which had long been considered as indubitable, tried | to make his followers believe that there was no such thing in existence as either matter or mind-that men had been amusing themselves with empty names, and indulging in groundless notions, and by these means to involve all in universal darkness and scepticism, it was time to call in question the accuracy of opinions which had received the sanction of so many illustrious men. To believe, in spite of the evidence of our senses, that we are surrounded with nothingnessthat our supposed perceptions of external objects are nothing more than the illusions of fancy,--and that upon what we have been accustomed to value ourselves so highly-our minds -have really no existence,-requires indeed a greater portion of credulity than what ordinarily falls to the lot of mortals. Such, nevertheless, are the results of the speculations of Berkeley and Hume: the one ventures to assure us that there is no such thing as matter; the other, with greater effrontery, would have us believe that there is no such thing as either matter or mind.

If, in departing from the testimony of common sense on this occasion, the only danger to be apprehended would have been the inducing men to embrace a system of folly and absurdity for truth, there would have been comparatively little danger in so doing; but it is plain this was not the only danger to be feared: the evident tendency of the whole was to plunge the human race in scepticism. Our regard for the character of one of the abettors of this theory will not, indeed, allow us to suppose that he had any evil intentions in view, in countenancing and recommending it. But the utmost stretch of candour will not allow us to look in so favourable a light upon the other. It is impossible for any one who reads the whole of his works to mistake his aim.

Fond, nevertheless, as these two philosophers were of the system which they had cherished, and brought to imaginary perfection, one cannot fail to discover, from the perusal of their writings, that they oftentimes had misgivings respecting its correctness, and were disposed to doubt the justice of the result to which they had brought their speculations. We are authorized in saying so, from the labour which Berkeley employed to reconcile his philosophy to common sense; and from the frank acknowledgment of Hume, that it was only in the retirement of the closet and in solitude, that he could give implicit assent to what he there laid down. There were not wanting, in the course of the lives of both of them, innumerable occasions to set their practice in opposition to their theory; and firmly as they believed that matter had no existence, yet they exerted as much precaution as ordinary men in evading the dangers which might result from this source. Notwithstanding their belief in the truth of their speculations, neither of them acted upon it in the ordinary occasions of life, nor manifested their faith by acting consistently with it in their intercourse with their fellow-creatures. In their communications with society, they laid aside their philosophy, forgot the abstractions of the closet, and spoke and acted in the same manner as the vulgar.

Little possible, perhaps, as it was for these celebrated theorists to make. many converts to their system, from its manifest repugnancy to the testimony of the senses; yet it affords us a powerful example of the absurdities and follies to which the mind of man is capable of giving birth, and of the evils which naturally attend upon that theory of philosophy which is framed for the purpose of getting rid of what common sense would induce us to believe. Having constant occasion for it in the concerns of life, its Author seems to have bestowed it for valuable purposes, and to subserve some useful ends. One cannot indeed but feel regret and shame, that there should have arisen upon this earth, those who have thought it necessary to the beauty and perfection of their own systems, to shut out all indications of the work of Deity-to "annihilate, not only space and time," but

also every proof of the harmony and regularity attending his operationsto attempt to convince indeed their fellow-mortals that they were the creatures of circumstances, and possessed only of an occasional and transitory existence.

Sunk as we are in ignorance, it would surely have been more natural and congenial to the feelings, had these authors, instead of trying to make us "reach a depth profounder still, and still profounder," and reducing every thing to emptiness and nothingness, endeavoured rather to instil into our minds an overweening | pride, and given them an independent and eternal being. They are perhaps almost the only instances on record, of characters, who, wishing-one of them at least-to establish universal scepticism, and to make men believe that they are not subject to the agency of a superior Being-that they are creatures without any relationship to others, have done it by a process as degrading and humiliating as it is possible to conceive-a process which at once takes away all the dignity and all the honour which we have been wont to think the intellectual faculties possessed of. But so it is: fond of entering upon inquiries which we are incapable of conducting to a proper issue; ambitious of diving into the secrets and unravelling the mysteries which accompany the operations of Divinity, and wishing to fathom his counsels, without being possessed of the means of doing so, we get beyond our sphere of action, become immersed in difficulties, and “find no end, in wandering mazes lost."

One is really at a loss to know how it is, that common sense has rendered itself so obnoxious to those who have called themselves philosophers. It is surely no little honour to human nature, and confers no mean benefits, when even the untutored and unlettered find its dictates almost infallible. In every relation of life, if it be allowed to raise its voice, freed of the follies and prejudices with which it is too often attempted to be associated, it is almost an unerring guide, amidst all the difficulties, all the perplexities, and all the dangers, into which we may happen to be plunged. There are scarcely any possible circumstances in which it may not have a beneficial

influence-no occasions when it may not, and ought not, to be called into requisition. Though incapable of entering alone into refined and abstract disquisitions, yet it is this in which they ought all to centre. There may be points of morality, the solution of which require much niceness and discrimination, but it ought never to be forgotten, that even here common sense must necessarily be the supreme judge, the ultimate tribunal in this state; and the decisions which are pronounced contrary to its unsophisticated dictates, will be assuredly founded in error.

It should not be supposed, however, that in rating common sense thus highly, all learning and erudition are meant to be despised: nothing can be further from the purpose. On the contrary, all that is meant to be as serted is, that the latter, to be rendered serviceable and useful in life, must have its foundation in the former. Without this, genius may dazzle and sophistry may perplex, but we shall in vain look for a rule of conduct; we shall in vain endeavour to guide ourselves through the labyrinth in which we are oftentimes entangled in our course through life. We may be perhaps, sometimes, though not often, so circumstanced as to be incapable of knowing what path to choose-of telling how to steer our course: we may be placed in a situation of danger

Dextrum Scylla latus, lævumque implacata [Charybdis,

Obsidet:

yet these are difficulties which are usually of our own creating, and may for the most part be obviated by using necessary precautions. But even here common sense is the surest and safest guide; and if we throw off all our notions of expediency—a principle very dangerous to morality, in the hands of human beings-we shall generally, if not always, be led to the legitimate and correct conclusion. To the man of reflection and seriousness, however, it is unnecessary to prove its value from what it has done, and still does: he can satisfy himself à priori of that fact, from a knowledge that it is an original part of our constitution, and from a persuasion that it must there. fore be destined for some useful em. ployment. That it should have been lost sight of by some, and traduced

upon the banks of rivers, where it enjoys a southern exposure to the sun; though it endures considerable variations of heat and cold, as it flourishes in the northern clime of Peking, as well as about Canton; and it is observed that the degree of cold at Peking is as severe in winter as in some of the northern parts of Europe. However, the best tea grows in a mild temperate climate, the country about Nanking producing better tea than either Peking or Canton, betwixt which places it is situated.

The root resembles that of the peachtree; the leaves are green, longish at the point, and pretty narrow, an inch and half long, and jagged all round. The flower is much like that of the wild rose, but smaller. The fruit is of different forms, sometimes round, sometimes long, sometimes triangular, and of the ordinary size of a bean, containing two or three seeds, of a mouse-colour, including each a kernel. These are the seeds by which the plant is propagated: a number, from six to twelve or fifteen, being promiscuously put into one hole, four or five inches deep, at certain distances from each other. The seeds vegetate without any other care, tho' the more industrious annually remove the weeds, and manure the land. The leave which succeed are not fit to be plucked before the third year's growth, at which period they are plentiful, and in their prime.

In about seven years the shrub rises to a man's height, and as it then bears few leaves, and grows slowly, it is cut down to the stem, which occasions an exuberance of fresh shoots and leaves the succeeding summer; some, indeed, defer cutting them till they are of ten years' growth. In Japan, the tea-tree is cultivated round the borders of the fields, without regard to the soil; but as the Chinese export considerable quantities of tea, they plant whole fields with it. The leaves are not collected from the cultivated plant till it is three years old; and after growing seven or ten years, it is cut down, in order that the numerous young shoots may afford a greater supply of leaves.

The best time to gather the leaves of tea is while they are yet small, young, and juicy; and the different periods in which they are gathered are particularly described by Kæmp

fer. The first gathering of the tealeaves, according to this author, commences about the latter end of Feb. ruary, when the leaves are young and unexpanded. The second collection is made about the beginning of April, and the third in June. The first collection, which consists only of the fine tender leaves, is most esteemed, and is called Imperial tea. The second is called Tootsjaa, or Chinese tea, because it is infused and drunk after the Chinese manner. The last, which is the coarsest and cheapest, is chiefly consumed by the lower class of people. Besides the three kinds of tea here noticed, it may be observed, that by garbling or sorting these, the varieties of tea become still further multiplied. The leaves are plucked carefully one by one, and notwithstanding the seeming tediousness of this operation, the labourers are able to gather from four to ten or fifteen pounds each in one day. The tea-trees that yield often the finest leaves, grow on the steep declivities of hills, where it is dangerous, and in some cases imprac ticable, to collect them. The Chinese are said to vanquish this difficulty by a singular contrivance. The large monkeys which inhabit these cliffs are irritated, and in revenge they break off the branches, and throw them down, so that the leaves are thus obtained. The leaves should be dried as soon as possible after they are gathered.

The buildings, or drying-houses, that are erected for the curing of tea, contain from five to ten or twenty small furnaces, about three feet high, each having at the top a large flat iron pan. There is also a long low table covered with mats, on which the leaves are laid, and rolled by workmen, who sit round it: the iron pan being heated to a certain degree by a little fire made in the furnace underneath, a few pounds of the fresh-gathered leaves are put upon the pan; the fresh and juicy leaves crack when they touch the pan, and it is the business of the operator to shift them as quick as possible with his bare hands, till they become too hot to be easily endured. At this instant he takes off the leaves' with a kind of shovel resembling a fan, and pours them on the mats before the rollers, who, taking small quantities at a time, roll them in the palm of their bands in one direction,

while others are fanning them, that they may cool the more speedily, and retain their curl the longer. This process is repeated two or three times, or oftener, before the tea is put into the stores, in order that all the moisture of the leaves may be thoroughly | dissipated, and their curl more completely preserved. On every repetition the pan is less heated, and the operation performed more slowly and cautiously. The tea is then separated into the different kinds, and deposited in the store for domestic use or exportation.

The Chinese know nothing of imperial tea, flower of tea, and many other names, which in Europe serve to distinguish the goodness and the price of this fashionable commodity; but, beside the common tea, they distinguish two other kinds, viz. the voui and soumlo, which are reserved for people of the first quality, and those who are sick. We have two principal kinds of tea in Europe, viz.

Tea, Green, which is the common tea of the Chinese, &c. F. le Compte calls it bing tea, and says it is gathered from the plant in April. It is held very digestive, and a little astringent; it gives a palish-green tincture to water, and its leaves are much twisted.

Tea, Bohea, which is the voui tea, or bou tcha of the Chinese. F. le Compte makes this only differ from the green tea, by its being gathered a month before it, viz. in March, while in the bud; and hence the smallness of the leaves, as well as the depth of the tincture it gives to water. Others take it for the tea of some particular province; the soil being found to make an alteration in the properties of the tea, as much as the season of gathering it. It is all bought at Nanking, and thence brought into Europe, where it is now much in vogue.

As to the differences in colour and flavour peculiar to these two kinds, and to their varieties, Dr. Lettsom thinks that there is reason to suspect that they are, in some measure, adventitious, or produced by art. He has been informed by intelligent persons, who have resided some time at Canton, that the tea about that city affords very little smell while growing. The same is observed of the tea-plants now in England, and also of the dried specimens from China. We are not,

however, as he observes, to conclude from hence, that art alone conveys to tea, when cured, the smell peculiar to each kind; for our vegetable grasses, for instance, have little or no smell till they are dried and made into hay.

As to the opinion, that the green tea owes its verdure to an efflorescence acquired from the plates of copper on which it is supposed to be cured or dried, he shews that there is no foundation for this suspicion. The infusions of the finest imperial and bloom teas undergo no change on the affusion of a volatile alkali, which would detect the minutest portion of copper contained in them, by turning the liquors blue.

The fine green colour of these teas, with as little reason, has been attributed to green copperas; as this metallic salt would, on its being dissolved in water, immediately act on the astringent matter of the leaves, and convert the infusion into ink, as happens when a chalybeate water has been employed in the making of tea.

On the whole, Dr. Lettsom thinks it not improbable, that some green dye, prepared from vegetable substances, is employed in the colouring of the leaves of the green teas. And Neumann suspects, that the brown colour and the flavour of the bohea sorts are introduced by art. Both the green and bohea teas have an agreeable smell, and a lightly bitterish subastringent taste: with solution of chalybeate vitriol, they strike an inky blackness. They give out their smell and taste both to watery and spirituous menstrua; to water, the green sorts communicate their own green tincture, and the bohea, their brown; but to rectified spirit they both impart a fine deep green. The extracts, obtained by gently drawing off the menstrua from the filtered tinctures, are very considerably astringent, and not a little ungrateful; but the spirituous most so.

Savary also speaks of a sort of red tea, or Tartar tea, called Honan tcha, which tinges the water of a pale red, and which is said to be extremely digestive: by means of it the Tartars are said to be able to feed on raw flesh. Its taste is earthy, and much the least agreeable of them all: but this is scarcely known in England.

Tea is to be chosen of the briskest