Phil.  Look! are not the fields covered with a delightful verdure?  Is there not something in the woods and groves, in the rivers and clear springs, that soothes, that delights, that transports the soul?  At the prospect of the wide and deep ocean, or some huge mountain whose top is lost in the clouds, or of an old gloomy forest, are not our minds filled with a pleasing horror?  Even in rocks and deserts is there not an agreeable wildness?  How sincere a pleasure is it to behold the natural beauties of the earth!  To preserve and renew our, relish for them, is not the veil of night alternately drawn over her face, and doth she not change her dress with the seasons?  How aptly are the elements disposed!  What variety and use in the meanest productions of nature!  What delicacy, what beauty, what contrivance, in animal and vegetable bodies I How exquisitely are all things suited, as well to their particular ends, as to constitute opposite parts of the whole I And, while they mutually aid and support, do they not also set off and illustrate each other?  Raise now your thoughts from this ball of earth to all those glorious luminaries that adorn the high arch of heaven.  The motion and situation of the planets, are they not admirable for use and order?  Were those (miscalled erratic) globes once known to stray, in their repeated journeys through the pathless void?  Do they not measure areas round the sun ever proportioned to the times?  So fixed, so immutable are the laws by which the unseen Author of nature actuates the universe.  How vivid and radiant is the lustre of the fixed stars!  How magnificent and rich that negligent profusion with which they appear to be scattered throughout the whole azure vault!  Yet, if you take the telescope, it brings into your sight a new host of stars that escape the naked eye.  Here they seem contiguous and minute, but to a nearer view immense orbs of fight at various distances, far sunk in the abyss of space.  Now you must call imagination to your aid.  The feeble narrow sense cannot descry innumerable worlds revolving round the central fires; and in those worlds the energy of an all-perfect Mind displayed in endless forms.  But, neither sense nor imagination are big enough to comprehend the boundless extent, with all its glittering furniture.  Though the labouring mind exert and strain each power to its utmost reach, there still stands out ungrasped a surplusage immeasurable.  Yet all the vast bodies that compose this mighty frame, how distant and remote soever, are by some secret mechanism, some Divine art and force, linked in a mutual dependence and intercourse with each other; even with this earth, which was almost slipt from my thoughts and lost in the crowd of worlds.  Is not the whole system immense, beautiful, glorious beyond expression and beyond thought!  What treatment, then, do those philosophers deserve, who would deprive these noble and delightful scenes of all reality?  How should those Principles be entertained that lead us to think all the visible beauty of the creation a false imaginary glare?  To be plain, can you expect this Scepticism of yours will not be thought extravagantly absurd by all men of sense?