Let not the pious Christian, therefore, take alarm at views such as these as if they savoured of materialism; for, on the contrary, their tendency is to remove from the unhappy sceptic one fertile source of infidelity. He knows that our bodies, after death, are resolved into their primitive elements—that they go, to use the words of Scripture, to dust; and he is conscious that there is a dependence of the intelligent mind upon the animal mechanism, of which he can give no account, and from which the most enlightened metaphysicians have in vain essayed to escape. Tied, as it is, to the body in this life, we seek in vain to follow the soul in its flight to eternity by any other light than that of the Bible, which alone shows us that this mortal will put on immortality, and man be again a living soul to endure through endless ages. How much is it, then, to be regretted, that, with the very best intentions, pious and learned men, with that distinguished prelate, Bishop Butler (as will be seen from a preceding quotation), at their head, should unconsciously have aided the cause of materialism by overstating their argument for the soul's immortality, through an imperfect acquaintance with human physiology and pathology. In fatal diseases, and under the severest loss of bodily parts, it remains, say they, clear and vigorous to the last; thence inferring that, even in this life, it is independent of the body; whereas, the merest tyro in pathology knows that such is not the case; he knows that the mind can no more carry on its operations vigorously, or soundly, with a brain diseased,

than a musician can perform a piece of music perfectly on an instrument that is imperfect, or out of tune. And what can be more prejudicial to the cause of truth than reasoning thus from assumed facts, which the sceptic can show to be erroneous. Numberless are the diseases of the brain which interfere with the sane manifestation of the mental faculties; but none more so than inflammation, as the very derivation of the word phrensy denotes; and we find, accordingly, that in cases of suicide, the usual verdict is, that the wretched act has been committed under the influence of temporary insanity—a verdict founded, for the most part, no less in justice than humanity. Within my own recollection, many are the instances of eminent men perishing by their own hands. Upon one melancholy occasion, I well remember its having been stated, that after the blood had flowed to a certain extent, thereby relieving the brain, reason for an instant returned; the dying man asked for pen and ink, and was proceeding to commit some instructions to paper, when, becoming faint from the continued loss of blood, he expired without being able to accomplish his wishes.

I once myself attended a somewhat singular case, illustrative, as I believe, of this interesting subject. The patient was a gentleman, who, in a state of temporary insanity, had pierced his bowels with a bayonet. Yet he survived many days. His phrenitic state was entirely relieved by loss of blood; his reason and consciousness returned; and the closing scene was one of contrition,

resignation, and pious recourse to those means of grace which have so often gilded the last moments of the dying and penitent Christian. In either of these cases it will scarcely admit of a doubt, that a timely and judicious abstraction of blood would have prevented the fatal deed. The fact, that the mind is often perfectly clear and communicative at the hour of death, is so thoroughly recognized, that the French have marked the occurrence with the designation of "Le Chant de Cygne," from a fabulous tradition, that swans sing when they are about to die. But, gratifying as this reprieve of the mental faculties often is to surrounding friends, it does, in fact, but indicate, speaking physiologically, that, as the pulse sinks and the vital powers decline, such symptoms of the disease as were more particularly connected with an oppressed state of the brain, may disappear, and thereby afford incontrovertible evidence, not of the independence of the mind, whilst we live, upon the state of the brain, but the contrary. Abernethy, therefore, was doing incalculable good, when he placed the metaphysical argument in favour of the soul's existence, on its own merits. We have seen that in the prosecution of his argument, he hoped, by making it probable that the living principle was something analogous to electricity superadded to the mechanism of the body, to induce the materialist to go a step farther, and admit that something far transcending the most subtil modification of matter might constitute the intelligent principle. But I cannot do my friend justice, without quoting more of his own words :

"As a teacher of young men, I felt particularly anxious that they should possess just, benevolent, and honourable sentiments, and therefore was I interested in maintaining those opinions respecting life, which seem to warrant the further opinion of the distinct and independent nature of the mind; whilst more particularly did I feel bound to maintain them, when the contrary opinions were unsupported by facts or arguments. I admit that the brain is as much an organ of sensation and thought, as the liver and stomach are organs for the secretion of bile and gastric fluid; but the physiological question in dispute is, how do these organs accomplish their respective functions? The opinion that the functions of life are the result of subtil principles, commixed with the visible fabric of living beings, will, I believe, be soon generally admitted; and I contend, that the liver and stomach prepare their respective fluids in consequence of their vital principles, and not merely as a result of their organization. But I cannot suppose that the brain produces our sensations and thoughts in the same manner; and that Milton, for instance,

"From the glands of his brain

Secreted his Paradise Lost."

From the absurdity, in fact, of supposing that the soft medullary fibres of the brain feel and think, the common sense of mankind will for ever revolt. And as we cannot either suppose sensation to result from any motion or arrangement of insensible atoms,-as we have reason to

believe that all the vital processes are carried on in many instances without sensation, and that, when present, its district is limited to the brain, so we seem compelled to admit that life influences, through the means of its actions and organization, something having the properties of perception, &c., and is acted on by it in return."-Postscript to the "Hunterian Oration," 1819.