What must be the amount of correct co-ordination between a multiplicity of parts and their actions to produce the result! The lad's mind has little to do with it beyond his one impulse to hit the mark. He knows nothing of anatomy, but simply sets going the wonderful mechanism of his body, and this works out the result for him. In the first place the various parts of his eyes must be adjusted to see the mark distinctly. Then his body must be held in a certain position, and for this a multitude of nervous and muscular coordinations are necessary. The stone must be grasped with a certain strength, the arm thrown back to the due extent, and its muscles contracted, in co-ordination with the organ of sight, and with just that degree of vigour, as his fingers are relaxed, which shall carry the stone as desired. Different feelings accompany these actionsfeelings of activity, passivity, touch, tension, &c.-and these feelings guide the action of his body as if it were a sort of automatic sensitive machine.

Thus we have, apart from the action of the intellect, a power of so regulating our various bodily movements as to produce a harmonious co-ordination, in which a number of subordinate movements are co-ordinated to produce a more general movement in obedience to sensuous impulses. That these complex and orderly combinations may take place without intellectual action and from sensuous impulses only, is plain from the fact that many idiots and sleep-walkers perform them. Even with respect to ourselves, we may set our bodily organism going in a certain direction, and then give up the mind entirely to other matters, so that we walk on, lost in thought,' till we are startled at finding we have reached-or it may be overshot-our destination, without having once thought about our journey on the road. But the remarkable power we have of co-ordinating our motions, in response to associated sensations, is excellently shown in such a thing as playing the piano by heart. Here the actions duly follow in orderly series in connection with felt touches of the keys and heard sounds of the notes. Let a key stick, or a wire become dumb, and the automatic action ceases immediately, and the intellectual attention is aroused.

The result of all the foregoing powers of feeling and co-ordinated movements is, that we have an automatic power of uniting our various pleasurable tendencies into now one and now another dominant impulse, and of further co-ordinating our movements so as to unite them in one general movement directed to gratify such dominant impulse. As to our tendency to imitation, it is notorious that the sight of a yawn induces yawning. Such spontaneous imitation is often carried much further, notably by some idiots. Nor is it surprising it should be so, when we reflect that the sight of a motion performed by others, slightly stimulates in us those very nerves by

Thus it comes about that by the association of sensations, imaginations, feelings of pleasure and pain, feelings of activity and passivity, and groups of feelings corresponding with the succession, extension, figure, size, unity, multiplicity, motion, and rest of bodies, groups of feelings of the most varied kinds come to be formed, which groups of feelings correspond with a multitude of external objects which have given rise to them. These groups of feelings underlie and accompany our intellectual perceptions of material things (as self-observation shows us), and therefore these groups of feelings may not improperly be termed 'sense-perceptions."

The consideration of this power and habit which we have of associating feelings together, leads us on to yet another consequence worthy of note. When a group of feelings has become intimately associated with certain other sensations, then upon the occurrence of those other sensations an imagination of the group of feelings previously associated therewith spontaneously arises in the mind, and we have expectant feelings of their proximate actual recurrence. Thus the sensation of a vivid flash of lightning has come by association to lead to an expectant feeling of the thunder-clap to follow, and the sight of what looks like an orange, leads in a thirsty man to an expectant feeling of sweet-juiciness-quite apart from his intellectual perception of the properties of an orange or of the relation between lightning and thunder. This arousing of expectant feelings has a certain analogy with reasoning or inference, although altogether different from it essentially. We may then distinguish this kind of feeling assensuous inference.'

Another important fact to note is that our feelings, and especially our emotions, may be expressed by external signs, which are so far from being rational and intentional, that we may be unaware of them, or, if aware of them, unable to suppress them. Thus the emotion of terror shows itself by tremblings of lip and limb, a dropping of the jaw, suppressed breathing, a deadly pallor of the face, and staring eyes. With the emotion of anger, the eyes glare, the hands are often clenched and raised, and the lips compressed or possibly distorted in a fierce grin. Such signs and accompanying cries produce sympathetic effects in the beholders, and thus we have an emotional language, expressing merely our feelings, in addition to that power of speech by which we communicate our ideas. Moreover, our emotions may thus be so communicated as to give rise, by sympathy, to similar emotions in others, and this, again, is closely connected with a tendency to imitation we all possess, as to which a few remarks will be made a little further on.

Let us now glance at certain sets of bodily motions which correspond with different feelings. How wonderful, when we come to go into it, is the trivial act of a lad throwing a stone at a mark!

What must be the amount of correct co-ordination between a multiplicity of parts and their actions to produce the result! The lad's mind has little to do with it beyond his one impulse to hit the mark. He knows nothing of anatomy, but simply sets going the wonderful mechanism of his body, and this works out the result for him. In the first place the various parts of his eyes must be adjusted to see the mark distinctly. Then his body must be held in a certain position, and for this a multitude of nervous and muscular coordinations are necessary. The stone must be grasped with a certain strength, the arm thrown back to the due extent, and its muscles contracted, in co-ordination with the organ of sight, and with just that degree of vigour, as his fingers are relaxed, which shall carry the stone as desired. Different feelings accompany these actions— feelings of activity, passivity, touch, tension, &c.—and these feelings guide the action of his body as if it were a sort of automatic sensitive machine.

Thus we have, apart from the action of the intellect, a power of so regulating our various bodily movements as to produce a harmonious co-ordination, in which a number of subordinate movements are co-ordinated to produce a more general movement in obedience to sensuous impulses. That these complex and orderly combinations may take place without intellectual action and from sensuous impulses only, is plain from the fact that many idiots and sleep-walkers perform them. Even with respect to ourselves, we may set our bodily organism going in a certain direction, and then give up the mind entirely to other matters, so that we walk on, lost in thought,' till we are startled at finding we have reached-or it may be overshot-our destination, without having once thought about our journey on the road. But the remarkable power we have of co-ordinating our motions, in response to associated sensations, is excellently shown in such a thing as playing the piano by heart. Here the actions duly follow in orderly series in connection with felt touches of the keys and heard sounds of the notes. Let a key stick, or a wire become dumb, and the automatic action ceases immediately, and the intellectual attention is aroused.

The result of all the foregoing powers of feeling and co-ordinated movements is, that we have an automatic power of uniting our various pleasurable tendencies into now one and now another dominant impulse, and of further co-ordinating our movements so as to unite them in one general movement directed to gratify such dominant impulse. As to our tendency to imitation, it is notorious that the sight of a yawn induces yawning. Such spontaneous imitation is often carried much further, notably by some idiots. Nor is it surprising it should be so, when we reflect that the sight of a motion performed by others, slightly stimulates in us those very nerves by

which such motions have been brought about in them. Let this nervous stimulation be much augmented, and actual movement on the part of the spectator may necessarily follow.

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Lastly, we have, through the action of associated feelings and co-ordinated motions, the power unconsciously and automatically to employ what are practically means to effect some end.' Thus a sleep-walker will open a drawer to take out of it some desired object, or will turn a key to unlock a door, and so obtain entrance into some locality sought after. This seems strange, but it can be quite well accounted for by an action of the nervous system essentially similar to that which occurs through the association of feelings, and in imitation. For the senses have present to them groups of sensations, such as those from the walls and furniture of the room the sleep-walker is traversing on his way to the desired locality the door of which is locked. The sensations so felt arouse the imagination of the inside of the desired locality, this arouses the nervous channels habitually stimulated in overcoming the intervening obstruction; the hand automatically seeks the key, the stimulus of its touch stimulates the muscles of the arm, the key is turned and the door opened. Very complex motions of the kind are sometimes performed in order to complete a harmony which the imagination craves. It craves for fresh completing sensations, and is thus led to perform appropriate movements, when certain initial sensations, after which the completing sensations have (in past experience) habitually followed, have been afresh excited. This, then, is the practical imagination of means to effect a desired end, without any intellectual apprehension of either end or means. Such are some of the many and wonderful powers of feeling with which human nature is endowed-powers apart from the intellect, for they may be exhibited by persons who are permanently devoid of intellect or in whom it is temporarily dormant.

Now let us turn to the higher and intellectual powers of our nature, and examine two or three of them. As before said, we all know that we have perceptions of things about us. But what is a perception?

We perceive a handkerchief! How do we perceive it? Through a number of impressions which it makes on our senses-such as the feeling of a white colour, of a certain softness and pliability, a certain smoothness, and other feelings such as those described a little time ago as culminating in sense-perception.' But all these feelings are only the means, not the object of perception. It is through and by them that we directly apprehend the object, the handkerchief itself, with its various properties.

So with all other external objects, the feelings they occasion in us, however intimately grouped, are but the signs of the object they

make known. We can, however, attend to the signs themselves if we will. In looking at a house, for example, we can, if we please observe the shape of the image made by it on our field of vision, and draw out its perceptive lines. But when we look at a house ordinarily, we do not perceive them but it.

In looking at a revolving cube, we only see portions of it at a time, and its square faces, seen in perspective, do not look square. Nevertheless, through these imperfect sensible signs we have an adequate perception of the whole cube as it is in itself. Observe also that the very revolution of the cube (and the consequent changing of our sensations) does not change our intellectual perception, which remains the same throughout. Perception, then, is a natural and spontaneous interpretation of sensible signs by a special power of our intelligence-a power which can be much improved by practice. But into what does this natural power interpret the signs given through our sense-organs by external things? Into the apprehension of some object which, as standing, as it were, opposite to our mind, we call objective; ' while all the feelings that object produces in us, as being affections of us—of the subject who feels-we call 'subjective.' In every perception, then, we perceive an object of some kind. It may be we know it as a horse,' or if not that, as 'a quadruped,' or as a living creature' only, or merely as a solid body,' and if we cannot be sure even of that, then at least we perceive it as something.

'SOMETHING!'

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What a wonderful idea is enshrined in that most familiar expression something! It is the idea of existence,' the idea of being. It is an idea which, however its latent implications may be unfolded, is itself inexplicable, for no one can even ask what it is, without showing by his very question that he both possesses and understands it. The idea of being, or existence, is one which is applicable to everything which can be conceived by the mind. Those other (much more restricted) apprehensions or ideas, of objects just mentioned solid body,' 'living creature,' 'horse,' &c.-are also each applicable to a greater or less number of things. Thus even the idea horse' is applicable to a multitude of individuals of the same kind to all horses. At the same time, the idea or conception considered in itself is ONE. It is a single notion-not indeed a notion of any individual subsisting thing, but of a kind or class of things, real or possible, to each one of which the notion is applicable. It is therefore a general or universal idea.

The contrast, the difference of kind, which exists between this intellectual conception and the various forms of feeling, is very great.

Feelings, whether single or in groups of groups, are all modifications of the sentience of the being who is the subject of them. They are impressions made on our sensitivity by individual things, or faint