arouse the attention of his faithful dog; the tones of affection and reproof convey meaning to him. But brutes are not moved by the most powerful eloquence; neither do they understand necessary relations. The highest moral action draws no approbation, even from brutes, like the monkey, of instinct so wonderful, that it often seems to surpass the greatest human

acuteness.

Man, in common with other animals, has appetites and senses, that enable him to provide for his existence, and the comforts of sensitive life. He sees objects that are good or hurtful; he has the power of motion to seize or avoid them; he has appetites that prompt him to prolong his existence. So far is he an animal. But in man there is something which brutes do not possess. Sensible objects, when perceived by him, act upon a hidden spring, causing the overflowing of joy, or of sorrow; occasioning approbation or disgust. The loveliness of a spring morning -the stillness of a summer evening-the variety of natural scenery, produce delight. The soft tones of the flute, still more those of the human voice, have for the ear an inexpressible charm. While on the contrary, objects unnatural or loathsome, create disgust. Sounds that are harsh or discordant, occasion pain. An act of benevolence gains approbation; amiability

of disposition attracts affection, and a cruel action, or a wicked character, would meet with disapprobation, even abhorrence.

In instinct, also, man in his infant and savage state, is an animal. The actions that in those conditions tend to preserve life and provide for its wants, are mostly instinctive. But in this he is far the inferior of the brute. Instinct would not teach a child to distinguish poison from food; nor would it teach a man to work unerringly as does the bee, by a rule that has never varied for thousands of years; choosing for the construction of its habitation the best of all possible angles; one hundred and twenty degrees for the sides of its little room, and the angles of one hundred and ten and seventy degrees for the inclinations of the roof. In this, the little insect never varies, it never improves. But man has something within by which he knows the essential relations of things, by which he knows himself, and by which he learns to distinguish what ́ is good for him and what is hurtful. He gradually learns to improve his condition, to multiply his comforts, even to luxuries. He also subdues animals, who far surpass him in strength. Not only brutes, but every element in nature become his property; time and opportunity render him master of the whole material world.

These instances show that there is in mar

something upon which sensible and moral objects act, causing emotions of pain and pleasure, as well as high attainment of power. In these respects, as well as in speech, we find no affinity between man and the brute.

But there are other instances that show a higher nature than the animal. An object is presented to the sight, we notice its form, its colour and other qualities. We close our eyes, or withdraw the object, but it is not gone; its form, its colour, is still there. is present, but not to the eye.

We hear

Still where? it We have then a sight which is not of the body. sounds at night that terrify us; at the return of the same season, the same sounds return with all their terror. Scenes or circumstances in which we have formerly been interested, friends of past years, return to us in the hours of solitude or of darkness. Return, not to our bodily senses. no, but to something within us, upon which the impression made is often deeply painful, or highly pleasurable. Different objects being presented, we immediately compare them as to beauty, utility, or other qualities, and within ourselves establish a preference. Should this proffered object be attainable, a desire of possession arises, and we take measures to acquire what to us appears desirable, success in this would produce joy, disappointment, sor

row.

The expectation of desired good, creates hope, the certainty that it cannot be obtained, despair. Injuries received, fill us with anger, good bestowed, with gratitude; and we feel within us liberty to act or not to act, as inclination prompts.

When we reflect upon ourselves and perceive within us this power of retaining the images of outward objects, of recalling, of connecting and comparing them; when we attend to the emotions such objects produce, and the actions they prompt, we feel assured that there is within us a thinking, active, feeling principle. To this has been given the name of Mind, or Soul. It has already been shown that the body is material, that is, it has the properties of matter: It grows and lives like a plant, it moves, sees, hears, feels, like an animal, and at length dies and returns like every kind of matter, to original dust. The Soul is not matter. It is neither to be seen or touched, nor do we know in what of the body it is lodged. We call it immaterial; it is, strictly speaking, that part we call Myself. When death has dissolved the connection between the body and Soul of a dear friend, we say he is gone; though the body lies before us, we call it the corpse. The Soul, or Mind, was Himself.

part

"The evidence for the existence of Mind, is

to the full as complete as that upon which we believe the existence of Matter. Indeed it is more certain and more irrefragable. The consciousness of existence, the perpetual sense that we are thinking and that we are performing the operation quite independently of all natural objects, proves to us the existence of a being different from our bodies, with a degree of evidence higher than we can have for the existence of these bodies themselves, or any other part of the material world. It is certain that many of the perceptions of matter which we derive through the senses are deceitful, and seem to indicate that it has no reality at all. But that the Mind, that the sentient principle, that the thing or being which we call I and we, and which thinks, feels, reasons, should have no existence, is a contradiction in terms.'

CHAPTER III.

IMMATERIALITY OF MIND.

Having established a belief in the existence of that which we call ourself, or mind, we naturally enquire whether this thinking, active, feeling part be the body itself, so ennobled and

*

Brougham's Discourse on Nat. Theology, pp. 47, 48.