indestructible, and that it is put into the body as a separate thing, having the power of itself to leave the body whenever it dies, rests on no substantial proof. That it is destined thus to leave the body is quite another thing.

Materialists, of whom we are pained to say there are many among believers in phrenology, though they flatly deny it,* seem to think that the brain produces thought pretty much as the liver makes bile or the stomach gastric juice. This doctrine would be gratuitous, a mere supposition, even if there were no Christian revelation to contradict it. But while we discard all such anti-Christian and absurd fantasies, we must not run to the other extreme, as some good men have done. It must be admitted, that in this life all the manifestations of mind are not only connected with, but are dependent upon, a material organization. The nature of this connection and dependence is of course a mystery, but of its existence there is no doubt. So far as injury is done to the brain and nervous system, just so far are the manifestations or actions of the mind impaired. And, on the other hand, moral causes, acting directly upon the mind, affect through it the organization. And when insanity results from moral causes thus acting, it is not a direct effect, but an in

It is often difficult to determine definitely what are the real sentiments of phrenologists on this subject. But that some of them, if not actually and fully materialists, are very near it, there is no sort of doubt, if language is to be understood as used by them in the same way that it ordinarily is. They not only strip man of all the elements of moral character, and consider him, as one of them expresses it, as a bundle of instincts,' thus making him but a brute of a higher order; but the material organization is exalted in their view above all those spiritual qualities or powers, which they seem to consider either as attached to it, or resulting from it, or at least as being in no sense independent of it. If this be not materialism, it comes very near to it.

direct one-the organization affected by the mind is thrown into a diseased state, and reacts upon the mind, influencing its manifestations. If the mind thus acted upon were a spirit, separated from the body, the result would be merely the feelings, which the motives applied would naturally produce, and not the unnatural feelings of insanity. It is not strictly proper then to speak of a mind diseased.

Let me not be understood to mean that mental derangement in every case is to be attributed to disease, that leaves such palpable traces that the dissecting knife would reveal it if death were to take place. There are diseased operations in the body, that are hidden from our view-so hidden, that they not only leave no traces, but often develop no characteristic bodily symptoms.

Although the principles above stated are often overlooked, and sometimes doubted, or even denied ; there are some cases in which they stand out so plainly, that every body acknowledges for the time their truth. For example, if a man, by a blow on his head, has a piece of his skull pressed inward upon his brain, he becomes senseless, and, if he arouse at all from his stupor, his mind is obviously in an unnatural state.

The surgeon raises the depressed bone, and thus taking off the pressure from the brain, restores the mind of the man to activity and sanity. In this case it is plain to every one, that the mental manifestations were suspended by a cause acting directly upon the material organization, and that they were revived again by the removal of this cause.

Take another example. A man of strong and clear mind becomes deranged, and at length arrives at perfect idiocy. He goes down to the grave in this condition. No one supposes that in such a case the mind is affected independently of the body, but the mental state is of

course attributed to bodily disease; and affection fondly, and we may say rationally, cherishes the expectation, that when the mind shall be freed from this tabernacle of flesh, it will emerge from its long night of darkness, and possess again its faculties in full, just as the man who lies senseless from pressure upon the brain, is restored to mental activity when that pressure is taken off by the trephine and elevator of the surgeon.

Now what is true of the cases that we have cited is true in every case-all mental aberration, however slight it may be, results from the connection of the mind with the body, and would not occur without this connection. It is the product of some impression made upon the material organization, either directly or indirectly through the mind. This impression may be momentary and evanescent, or it may produce a real change of structure. It would be interesting to enlarge upon these points, but it is not necessary for our purpose.

We speak of the brain as the seat of the mind, or soul. If we mean by this simply, that this is the great central organ of that system in the body (the nervous system) through which the mind acts upon external things, and is acted upon by them, it is correct so to speak. But if we mean to localize the mind, as sitting there, and especially if we fix upon some one part of the brain, as Descartes did upon the pineal gland (a body smaller than a pea) as the seat, the throne of the mind, the illustration is an erroneous one. The mind acts upon the whole body, through all the parts of the nervous system, and each portion of that system has its own peculiar offices to perform in obedience to the mind. This is as true of the brain as it is of the rest of the nervous system. This organ is a complex one, and the different parts have their different offices. This

we know in regard to some of these parts, and we can justly presume it in regard to others. And we do this without adopting the fanciful ideas of phrenologists in locating the different faculties of the mind.

While the brain is the great cen. tral organ of the nervous system, by which the mind imparts and receives impressions, there are other parts of that same system which seem to bear some other relation to the mind than that by which they transmit these impressions to and from the mind through the brain, as the nerves ordinarily do. They seem to have a connection with the mind independent of the direct agency of the brain, and for aught we know they have such a connection. When the mind is affected by any passion, either of the cheerful or the depressing kind, its sensible effects upon the body are not observable chiefly in the brain, but in the region of the heart and the other or gans adjacent to it. The thrill of joy is felt there, and grief produces there its sensation of oppression, prompting the occasional sigh to relieve it.

Such facts as these led an eminent French physiologist, Bichat, to adopt the theory that while the intellectual functions have their seat in the brain, the moral sentiments have theirs in the ganglionic system of nerves, (as it is called,) which has certain great nervous centres in the region of the heart, stomach, &c.

We will not stop to expose the fallacy of this plausible theory. It is sufficient for our purpose simply to advert to the fact, that the moral sentiments of the mind or soul are manifested more in that part of the body than in the brain. The very language of the affections, and the gestures which accompany the ut terance of that language, or supply its place when feeling is too big for utterance, are in consonance with this fact. We speak of the heart, and we place the hand upon the

heart when the moral sentiments are in lively action. And when feeling is so great as to be overpowering, or when the attempt is made to suppress it, there is with the load which is felt at the heart, a sensation of choking, (no word expresses it so well as this homely one,) preventing utterance; and then when it finds vent, it seems as if there was a gushing forth from the heart, not merely figuratively, but from the material heart that is throbbing in our bosoms.

The fact which we have been illustrating shows the force of such expressions in the Bible as bowels of compassion,' 'bowels did yearn,' &c. It throws some light also on the influence of grief upon the stomach, and on the depression of spirits which so sorely afflicts the dyspeptic.

It gives but a faint idea, then, of the all-pervading connection of the mind with the body, to suppose the mind to be locked up in some chamber of the brain, there receiving by the nerves messages from every quarter, and sending forth messages in return by the same media. There is no evidence of the existence of one great central point of attachment for the mind, but the ties of its connection with the body are multiplied and diffused. It is not merely, therefore, positive disease existing in the brain that affects the mind. Disorder of mind is infinitely modified by the different seats and modes of disease in different portions of the nervous system, as well as in different parts of the brain itself. I speak now not of palpable insanity alone, but of all the various states of mind occurring in sickness. One of the most common and prominent characteristics of the state of mind in sickness, is weakness. The weakness of body caused by disease is generally accompanied by a corresponding debility of mind. When Cassius speaks of Cæsar, as asking, give me some drink, TiVol. III.

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tinius, as a sick girl,' you see something more than weakness of muscle the giant mind of the mighty Cæsar is prostrated even to effeminacy.

And as weakness of a muscle is attended with unsteady, irregular, and sometimes even spasmodic action of its fibres, so it is with weakness of mind. Its efforts are fitful, and it is easily thrown off from its balance. A feeble man tottering along, occasionally resting upon his staff, or taking hold of a post or a fence, is thrown down by the gentlest touch, or by stumbling over even a slight obstacle, that he chances not to see so as to avoid or guard against it. And in the tedious journey of sickness, mind and body totter along in their feebleness together, and either is exceedingly liable to fall. And if the one fall, the other is pulled down with it. The guide, therefore, of these two travelers in this journey, must see to it, that all obstacles in the way of either be removed or avoided, that no rude hand be permitted to touch them, and that all those supports be supplied on the way which either can best use.

The mental weakness which disease occasions, is often exhibited to the physician under affecting circumstances. Minds, that have been able to grasp the most difficult and abstruse subjects, return, in the debility of sickness, to the simplest ideas-those which are both common and precious to the child, the man, the angel, and to God himself. The 'strong meat' is turned from, for the milk of babes.' I remember one of lofty intellect, fading away with consumption, who well exemplified this remark. Her aged father was reading to her a chapter in one of the epistles of Paul. is good,' said she, but I can not understand it now. It bewilders me. Something more simplesomething from the apostle John is better for my poor feeble mind.'

It

The mind, weakened by disease, is easily disturbed and agitated, except in those cases in which disease blunts the sensibilities. Derangement of mind is often the product of mere weakness, under increase of excitement, without any fresh accession of local disease. A familiar illustration of this you may see in fever. Very often there is mental derangement only during the paroxysm of fever, the mind being quite clear in the remissions. Especially is this the case with children, whose sensibilities and sympathies are in so much more lively a state than those of the adult.

Slight causes, therefore, which would produce little or no effect upon the mind of one in firm health, may affect strongly the mind of a sick man. A single example will suffice. The patient was sick with typhus fever. He had been very much deranged, and great care had been taken to guard against any excitement, which might act injuriously upon him. He was now getting better, and his mind had become calm and clear, though still, like his body, it was very weak. A friend came in one morning as usual to inquire about him. He knew that all visitors had been prohibited from going into the sick room, but he wished very much to see his friend, and, as he had an opportunity, he looked in through the door, as it chanced to be a little open. The dull eye of the sick man saw him dimly, and he at once became as much affected as if he had seen a dreadful vision. His distempered fancy conjured up ideas of a painful character, which remained upon his mind for a week, and endangered as well as delayed his convalescence.

This incident leads me to remark that physicians find great difficulty in securing a due degree of quietness in the sick room. I use the word quietness in its widest sense. I do not mean the avoidance of

noise merely, but of all improper excitement. Visiting is generally a perfect nuisance in the chamber of sickness. Multitudes of lives are continually sacrificed to curiosity and mistaken kindness. The tattling circles that gather around the fireside of the sick room, and retail their mixtures of medical lore, and slander, and hair-breadth escapes, and wonderful cures, often inflict torture upon the shattered nerves of the poor patient, and that torture sometimes, I have not a doubt, ends in death, when a recovery might otherwise have taken place.

No one should enter the sick room from curiosity or from a mere vague desire to do good. Nothing but the actual prospect of doing good should prompt him to go there. Indeed, every thing which interferes with the proper quiet of the sick should be most scrupulously avoided. It should always be remembered, that in many cases of disease, mental excitement may do as much harm as the excitement produced by stimulating medicines. And it is as much the business of the physician to direct in the management of this matter, as in the administration of remedies; for it has as real, if not as great a bearing on the recovery of the patient. Indeed, sometimes it is vastly more important than all the medicine that is given in the case.

I call to mind a case which illustrates this last remark so strikingly, that I will state it as briefly as possible. A patient was taken sick, with some important business pressing upon his attention at the time of the attack. He was persuaded to dismiss it entirely from his thoughts for the time. He was soon relieved by the remedies that were used, and he was in a fair way for a recovery. He was however in such a state, that it was very im portant that he should be kept from all excitement, and as I saw that he was disposed to attend to the business now with some friend, whom he

wished to have called in for the purpose, I told him and his family in plain terms the risk which he would run if he should pursue this course. He however disregarded my injunctions, and the consequence was that in the evening of the same day he was very sick, and in a few days died from disease in the brain, which was clearly induced by the mental excitement. If he had followed my directions as scrupulously in regard to this point as he did in regard to the medicines which were given, recovery instead of death would probably have been the result.

Some, in their anxiety to secure the quiet of the sick, go to an extreme, and give almost the silence of the grave to every sick room. They institute a sort of prison discipline, and shut out both the light of heaven and all cheerfulness of intercourse. The very means which they take to produce quietness, the stealthy step and the whisper, are apt to disturb the patient more than noise or excitement would do. Discretion should be exercised by the physician, and the friends of the patient should rely on him to direct this part of the management of the case, as well as that which is strictly medical. He must judge as to the degree and kind of excitement appropriate to the case, and direct in its application, for the same reason that he should, in a case of disease of the eye, direct as to the amount of light which should be admitted to it.

It is often very difficult to carry out these principles, especially in families that have but a small number of apartments. The fear of giving offense too, very often opens the door wide for visitors, against the most positive injunctions of the physician. To obviate this difficulty, I have in some few cases put upon the door a card, forbidding this kind of intrusion-an expedient which I have found to be very successful. One case was that of a clergyman's

family. So many were sick, that the house was a perfect hospital. A large portion of the parish poured in of course, to offer their sympathy and their services. Most of these persons did more harm than good. I attempted to remedy the evil by directions to the nurses, and by conversation with individuals, but in vain. At length I put up a card on the door of the house, to this effect. Visitors are requested to go directly into the parlor. No one is to enter the sick rooms but those who have the care of the sick. No talking in the entry.' This effected the desired change at once. I introduce this case simply to show the difficulties which exist on this point, especially in country towns, and the very plain remedy which can be applied. There is no reason why a universal rule should not be adopted in every case, in which it is deemed necessary by the physician.

Often,

The attendants on the sick often make a great mistake in supposing the patient to be so fast asleep, or so stupid, as to receive no impressions from their conversation. from this cause, he is obliged to hear what may do him great harm. Amid the confused thoughts of his dreamy bewildered state of mind, the idea of his own death is conjured up by some remark, to trouble and affright him. Instead of getting the rest which his wearied body and mind so much need, his nerves are disturbed by the hum of conversa. tion, and his mind is harassed by a succession of dread thoughts and visions, suggested by remarks, of which it is supposed that he takes no cognizance.

Some, who are very cautious on these points in regard to adults that are sick, never think of their application to children. Often, for example, does the physician find, on entering the sick room, those whom kindness and curiosity have assembled there, talking loudly, while the mother is trying in vain to soothe