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sound of their own names, is perhaps because there is no other idea so closely interwoven as this, with the feeling of our empirical personality. Goëthe forcibly says, "A man's name sticks to him all over, like his own skin."

A condition very analagous to sleep-waking, is sometimes met with in the day time; either occuring spontaneously, or produced artifically by the agency of others. In both cases the phenomena presented of the pyschical state are identical. This is the state which is called idio-magnetism, or more commonly animal magnetism. It appears to present three degrees. The first presents in essentials the ordinary phenomena of sleep-waking; from which it differs only in not being preceded by healthy sleep. The second is a state of a more profound absorption in self-a yet more intense sopor. The third degree gives us the surprising phenomena of clairvoyance, or the lucid trance. In this condition the subjects speak of their own accord; and also answer others

ust however as some somnambulists do. The marvellous stories that are told of such individuals becoming inspired with the supernatural powers of divination, the gifts of prophesy, or the faculty of psychically speeding in the twinkling of an eye to the farthest ends of the earth, serve only to amuse the enlightened, and impose on the credulous. In all really reliable cases, the visions, prophecies, &c., were wholly in accordance with the previous education, mode of thinking, and habits of the individual, and never went beyond these. This magnetic sleep represents a very profound slumber (coma), in which the vitality of the cerebral nerves appears to be paralysed; whilst the automatic vitality (unconscious) predominates. In the third degree, this latter is increased to motor action. Sympathy, which has its root in the predominance of fancy, and exists in an inverse ratio to the strength of the spontaneous impulse, obtains the mastery over the individual. The

wonderful phenomena, which unquestionably sometimes occur, are the results of an unrestrained fancy, whose marvellous flights, which often seem to call new worlds from the twilight of life, will not surprise the astute psychologist-the careful student of human nature; but will solemnly warn him of the many dangers of self-delusion. A man, even in a healthy and waking state, whose fancy is too frequently unchained, can scarcely avoid those dangers. Who that has ever wandered in thought amid the brilliant visions of Goëthe, or the gorgeous Utopian dreams of Shelley, can doubt this? I have never heard any credible statement of the strictly intellectual or moral improvement of the inner man, from the state of clairvoyance. Generally, indeed, the reverse obtains. It appears to me unquestionable, that the magnetic trance is not a superior, but a more fettered condition of the mind; in which it is subject not only to the rule of its own instincts and fancy, but to the will and sway of other minds. This then must, perforce, be a partial state; the value of which is far inferior to that of conscious waking; in which the spontaneous impulse does not allow itself to be governed by mental disturbances. And, though the mind at such times may be a conjuror, it is only at the moment, and involuntarily; which entirely deprives it of all merit and all claim to our regard. For, in what consists the behest of man? Assuredly in the ennobling of his moral nature; and in free self-regulation; which, the higher it rises above all sentimentality, the more efficient it is. We should aim chiefly at good; and this towers loftily above all the creations of fancy. I entreat you not to be deceived by the specious attractions of clairvoyance and imposture; but to believe that the waking clairvoyance of a wise, virtuous, and pious man, is superior to the magnetic

trance.

One word respecting the alleged value of animal magnetism, as a curative agent. I am ready to

admit that it may prove serviceable in a few scattered cases of disease. But, as a physiologist, I am justified in saying that it cannot fail to prove a most dangerous agent when indiscriminately employed (as it has already been) by persons utterly ignorant of medical science, clergymen, and others. Nothing is more prejudicial to the brain and nervous system, than an unnatural and prolonged tension of some faculties and powers; as is exemplified in the subjects of sleep-waking, who often lapse into epilepsy, insanity, or idiotey.

As the subject-matter of the present lecture would not be so far complete, without appending to the view of the phenomena of Life a chapter on Death, we will now conclude by casting a glance at the mind on this dark path. This glance will not discover much. For where the synthesis is inconceivable, how can analysis be possible? Here therefore we have little but conjecture. Bichat reduced the various modes of death to three, viz.-1, by exhaustion (asthenia); 2, by suffocation (asphyxia); 3, by stupor (coma). This is doubtless a correct analysis. In the death by coma only, is the consciousness suspended, so that the mind expires before the body. But in the two former and most frequent modes of departing this life, there is mental action to the last. Hearing is the last of the special senses to expire. There can be little doubt that, apart from predominant religious hope, what was uppermost in the life of the individual-most exercised and most vigorous-abides with him in his last hour. Some vision of ideal beauty would still float before the dimming eye of a Raphael; some melody would linger in the ear of a Mendelssohn: nay, a Newton, a Shakspere, a Goëthe,-might even be capable of thought in his dying moments. But in general we may take it for granted, that thought, being the dominion of the spontaniety over the functions, is the first to perish; and that death is preceded by a

state similar to dreaming, in which the mind has no longer control over the play of its varied images. But, however all these relations of the mind to the body may be modified in the awful hour of dissolution, we know that the tie which binds the knot of our mortal researches, is here unloosed; the body becomes insensible to the excitements of the mind; the spirit cannot vanish from the chain of being; but, like the glorious sun, its material type, only disappears from our eye, yet nevertheless continues in existence, and we must await an answer to its further problems elsewhere;-not before our frail tribunal, but where the soul

"Whose sources of perfection are immense,
Shall with perpetual progress brighten on

In knowledge and in virtue; drawing near
To its Creator's image."

We cannot draw aside the veil which conceals from mortal vision the spirit's condition whilst traversing these awful passages. In vain have the most exalted imaginations, the sublimest flights of poetry, endeavoured to convey to our understanding a conception of that hidden conflict which takes place in the act of death. What more full of mystery than the passage of the disembodied spirit through the gloomy valley! What mortal can imagine the feelings of the traveller on that tremendous journey! Who can portray to our imaginations the awful visions of the place!

"So live that when thy summons comes to join
Th' innumerable caravan, that moves

To that mysterious realin, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of Death,-
Thou go not, like a quarry-slave at night,

Scourg'd to his dungeon: but, sustain'd and sooth'd
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy doom;
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams."

ON WRITING.

BY MR. S. DRAPER,

Author of "Recreation," in the "Popular Lecturer" for 1858.

Ir would doubtless prove instructive were we to inquire into the origin of Penmanship, and to trace its progress from the Egyptians and Mexicans, who chronicled their important events by pictures and hieroglyphical characters. We would willingly institute such an inquiry: but on the present occasion we have to treat upon writing not as a mechanical art, but as a mental habit or exercise.

When we reflect that this Society numbers upwards of sixty members, and that only fourteen of us cultivate original composition,-I feel that I need not make any apology for bringing the subject before you this evening. I would in the first place inquire how it is that so many of you do not make a first attempt, and bring here an original paper? Is it from timidity? or because you do not think the habit conducive to mental improvement? Or is it not rather from feelings of hopelessness and insuffistency? Experience and observation constrain me to conclude that the latter is the prevailing hindrance. If it be, let me with all earnestness say, that you are labouring under a delusion: that the "still small voice" which is constantly persuading you of incompetency, is a great cheat. Remember, your minds are of an improveable nature. And I am not more certain of my own existence, than I am that there is nothing in the constitution of your intellects, which will preclude you from writing down

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