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this there is really no sensation. "We are accustomed to say the eye sees, the ear hears, the finger feels, and so forth; but such language is used only in accommodation to our ignorance, or from the force of habit. It is incorrect. The eye itself no more sees than the telescope which we hold before it to assist our vision; the ear hears not any more than the trumpet of tin which the deaf man directs toward the speaker to convey the sound of his voice; and so with regard to all the organs of sense. They are but instruments which become the media of intelligence to the absolute mind, which uses them whenever it is inclined or obliged to do so."*

The eye is a most perfect optical instrument, combining, by a most exquisite apparatus, those distinct qualities of the camera-obscura and the telescope. The ear is a most perfect acoustic instrument. Human skill has never been able to equal the divine model. So each organ of sense is an instrument, special in its structure and in its purpose the whole together bearing glorious attestation to the wonderful skill and wisdom of the Creator.

The working of this machinery is so complete, noiseless, and yet with such inconceivable velocity, that we can hardly wonder it seems self-moved. The organs of sense and of action are so instantaneously respondent to the slightest intimation of the will that the very consciousness of willing is almost lost sight of.

And yet the simple fact is apparent that the soul may become so profoundly absorbed in some mighty thought, or in the solution of some intellectual problem, that, though the chords of every sense should be swept by the corresponding elements in nature from without, no sensation would occur within. The mind is dead to any impression upon the organ. What higher demonstration can be

*Soul and Body, by Dr. Moore, p. 25.

demanded, that the bodily senses are mere organic instruments of the soul?

III. The mind not only interprets the impression made upon the organs of sense, but has the power of comparing sensations and thus perfecting its knowledge of external things.

The nerves are the media of communication between the organs of sense and the brain. The impressions made upon the former by an external object, they take up and convey to the latter. Here, so far as science has explored, the physical process ends. The instrument has performed its appointed function. How the mind takes up the process so as to carry the impression forward into the intelligence, is an unsolved mystery. Human reason may never, in this state, be able to solve it. But this fact we do know, that where the physical process ceases, the intellectual begins. The connection is complete. Though the links that bind it are unseen, the physical and the intellectual stand before us in manifest union.

Now, it is evident that these four things are necessary in order to sensation, namely the presence of an external object having a position and nature adapted to affect the sense, an impression upon the organ, the conveyance of that impression to the brain by the nerves, and the apprehension of that impression by the soul.

This process may be interrupted in any of its successive stages, and thus fail to produce the sensation. First, through some obstruction or defect, the sensorial organ may fail to receive its appropriate impression. If the retina of the eye, for instance, is inflamed, the picture, as in a poor looking-glass, will be defective. This defective impression will be conveyed to the brain, and the corresponding sensation will also partake of the defect. Again, if the optic nerve is diseased, it will, like a defective telegraph wire, fail to transmit its message. In the electrical tele

graph, the battery may be good, the appropriate shock may be made, and the careful observer at the other end may watch and wait; but all in vain. The message is lost on the way. It is diverted because the wire is not properly insulated; or it is obstructed in consequence of the wire being broken or an imperfect conductor. In like manner in the use of the senses. Unless the nerve is in a healthy condition it fails to transmit the impression to the brain. Though the impression, clear and distinct, is made upon the receiving organ of sense, and though the soul watches and waits at the other end of this wonderful magnetic line, yet no message comes to it.

Then, finally, the organ of sense may receive its appropriate impression, the connecting nerve may take it up and carry it to the brain. But unless the mind gives attention to it there, no sensation results. This is evident from the instances every day occurring, in which, though the senses are known to be unimpaired, the nervous system soundall its functions complete-and also all the external causes of sensation existing; and yet no sensation occurs, for the reason that the mind is abstracted in some deep and absorbing reverie, or by some difficult and perplexing question.

As a familiar example, an individual absorbed in some difficult mathematical problem or in an interesting book, may be spoken to two or three times before his attention is arrested. The vibrations of air struck upon the tympanum as usual, and the acoustic nerve bore the impression to the brain; but the operator there was inattentive, and the message was lost.

The relation of the senses to the mind as instruments for the conveyance of impressions, and the relation of the mind to the senses as the interpreter of those impressions, becomes still further apparent when we observe the mind

comparing the impressions received from the different senses, in order to the perfecting of the knowledge acquired through those sensations.

A vase stands upon the mantle, containing what appears to be an exquisite bouquet of flowers. That is the intimation of the sense of sight. But I approach, subject them to the test of the sense of smell, and find they have no flavor. I try the sense of touch upon them, and find they are stiff and the surface hard and cold. The mind sits in judgment upon these three classes of sensation, and thus ascertains that this is not a bouquet of real flowers, but a delicate representation of them. Along side of this is what appears to the eye a basket of fruit. Such is the sensation produced by sight. But when I subject it to the touch, it is cold and hard; when I take it into the mouth, it is without taste. Then I discover it is not fruit, but a wax representation, yet so delicate as to deceive the eye.

It will be perceived that, in both these cases, the mind made a comparison between the sensations produced by the different senses, and that its knowledge of the external object was the result of that comparison. Without this internal interpreter of our sensations-this arbiter among them the senses would be constantly leading us astray. We should be their perpetual dupes. But wisely has the Creator of all ordained the function of this central life of our being. "Try the spirits," is an aphorism of Revelation; "try the sensations," is a correspondent aphorism of science.

This idea of the mind's arbitration among the sensations produced within is more difficult of comprehension, from a common error in regard to the process of perception. Perception constantly carries us without ourselves, and we constantly recognize the objects as being without. And thus we form an idea of the mind-not as inclosed within its

small and dark chamber, the vehiculum of its present being—and there observing the impressions made by a purelyphysical process upon the organs of sense-just as the artist examines the image made in the camera-obscura; but as going forth to the object itself. We are thus, by a very common and almost universal misapprehension, led to mistake the point at which the physical terminates and the spiritual begins, in the process of conception. When this point is clearly apprehended, we are able to grasp more fully the function of mind in its relation to sense, and the wisdom, fitness, and beauty of our wonderful organization dawns upon us in a light never seen before.

IV. That the senses are mere instruments of the soul is further proved from the fact that the loss of one of the organs of sense-though it may embarrass the operations of the intellect, does not impair either its vitality or power.

The idea we wish to elaborate here may be, perhaps, more forcibly presented by an illustration. A carpenter plying his trade, finds one of the tools-his plane or his saw-missing from his chest; he may devise various substitutes, but fails in the perfection of his work and also in the facility of its execution. The failure is not owing to any lack of strength or skill on the part of the mechanic, but to the lack of the right tools with which to work.

If a single string in a violin is broken, or can not be keyed up into harmony with the others, the most skillful player will fail to produce the varied harmonies of which. the instrument is capable. The general skill of the violinist is not diminished. The defect is in the violin. In like manner, in the loss of one or more of the senses, the action of the soul in its relation to the external world is disturbed, but its native powers remain unimpaired.

The loss of the sense of hearing is a serious embarrassment. It interrupts the intercourse of life; shuts out the

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