feeling. Is not this then a proof that consciousness as a form of energy may cease entirely, so far as we know, whilst at the same time, the essential life of the mind still remains?

This then will be our endeavor, to show that normally during slumber the mind is unconscious, that it neither thinks, feels nor wills. Just what that essential life-energy which does not cease with consciousness may be, we have as yet no means of determining. It is commonly supposed that a constant consciousness is necessary to the mind's continued existence. This does not appear evident if there be force in the above considerations. 4. Does the Mind Sleep?

The first objection which would naturally be presented to the theory of the sleep of mind would be the fact that during sleep the mind is, sometimes at least, consciously active. Hence it is argued that it may always be so active, but that we may not always remember our sleeeping thoughts. Is it not probable however, that dreaming is a consequence of imperfect or abnormal and not of normal and sound sleep? When all the bodily and other conditions are favorable for full and refreshing slumber, we do not, I think experience the phenomena of so-called sleeping consciousness. On the contrary when we overwork or overstimulate the body, or when anxiety of mind has affected our nerves, we are very apt to sleep imperfectly and hence to dream. Does not dreamless sleep refresh us more because it is sound and normal, because it is a sleep of mind and nervous system. The facts of somnambulism do indeed seem to prove that the mind might be active during sleep and yet not remember that activity afterward; but is it really the fact that the mind is conscious always? The natural and prima facie conclusion is that in dreamless slumber the mind is unconscious. We know nothing posi tively to the contrary. It is according to the general analogies of nature that the mind should take this temporary rest. The idea does not necessitate the non-existence of that mind. Moreover those peculiar phenomena of sleep which are usually adduced as an evidence of mind's being ever active can, I think, be quite as well explained on the opposite hypothesis.

Let us now consider some of the arguments of the French philosopher, M. Jouffroy, as quoted in the Metaphysics of Sir William Hamilton. The first of these attempts to demonstrate that the probability is that the mind always wakes. It is based on the assumption that "when we dream we are assuredly asleep."

But would not this statement first require proof? Is it not probable from considerations before presented that dreamful sleep is not normal and sound sleep?

The second argument of M. Jouffroy is, when condensed, as follows: "A stranger visits Paris and is, for the first few nights, unable to sleep soundly because of the noise of the streets. After some time his slumber is not disturbed by this cause. This is not because the senses, becoming accustomed to the sound, fail to arouse the mind as at first. They do receive the same impressions on the first night as on the hundredth and transmit them in equal vivacity to the mind. That the senses do not become dulled to the sounds, as some might imagine would take place after the first few nights, is shown from the fact that habit often tends to render the senses more acute, as in the case of the Indian. The difference can originate only in the mind. This, ever active in sleep, on the first few nights receiving unusual impressions, arouses the senses to inquire what is the matter. But after a time, learning by experience of what external fact these impressions are the sign, it ceases to arouse the senses for a useless explanation. The facts of distraction and non-distraction in the waking state finely illustrate this theory. Thus, at first, one cannot read in the midst of distracting conversation, but after a time can do so with ease. It is not the senses which become accustomed to hearing these sounds and end by being less affected by them. But it is because attention at first occupies itself with the sounds referred to and chooses to neglect them after they have become familiar." From the above we see that the explanation given by M. Jouffroy to account for the fact referred to is that the waking mind becoming acquainted with the noise, intelligently decides that it is needless to arouse the man. The whole strength of his argument turns on the sole sufficiency of this explanation. It will be my endeavor to show that there are grave objections to his explanation and also that the facts can be at least equally as well accounted for on the supposition that the mind sleeps. M. Jouffroy states that the ever conscious mind does not arouse the senses after it becomes aware of the nature of the noise. Well then, let us suppose that this stranger had taken great pains, before retiring the first night in Paris, to inform his mind thoroughly of the important nature of those street noises it was about to hear during its sleep. Would the stranger in that case have slept on because his intelligent and waking

mind would find it unnecessary to arouse him? Certainly not. If the theory is correct, why not? But again if all that is necessary is that the sleepless intelligence within become acquainted with the nature of the sounds, why should it not become sufficiently informed on this point, at least after the experience of the first night? Plainly more time is nesessary. And this leads to another explanation of the phenomenon. It is simply that the sleeping mind and brain and body, having, according to a natural law of habit, become accustomed to the new conditions after a few nights, varying with the individual, can sleep on without being necessarily aroused by the noises. The body can become accustomed to sleeping on a hard board. The nervous system can so conform itself gradually to new conditions that it can sleep under the influence of strong stimulants. So, may it not be possible for the whole mind to become accustomed to slumber on amid noises. at first disturbing and distracting? The actual organs of sense need not become dulled as M. Jouffroy appears to suppose; but all the nervous, sensational and mental activities concerned in the recognition of those street noises may become much less sensitive to them after a sufficient time, because of the peculiar effects of habitual experience upon us. Just how this may take place we may be unable to explain. But M. Jouffroy would object to the dulling of the sensational activities from habit because they are often sharpened from the same cause. To which it may be replied that our sense-perceptions may be both dulled and sharpened through habit according as we may choose to encourage or oppose any given influences affecting our sense faculties. The sense faculties of an Indian are rendered acute because he throws. his whole soul into the line of sense-perception. On the other hand a philosopher might be surrounded by the same sense-culturing influences and opportunities, and yet, by engaging day af ter day in profound metaphysical meditations, might soon become. the more and more indifferent to the former. The case of the Paris stranger is analogous. He strove to shut out the noises.. Does not then the wonderful power of mind and body to adapt themselves to varied conditions furnish a satisfactory explanation of the phenomenon in question, without supposing the constant consciousness of mind?

Again it is asked by M. Jouffroy how we can account for the fact of nurses being undisturbed by all noises foreign to the patient and yet awaking by the slightest movement of the patient..

How can this be explained unless the mind never sleeps? The mind of the nurse is evidently in no condition to slumber soundly. It only partially sleeps. Well then, the little conscious activity which it does have in sleep is probably all constantly directed toward the affairs of the patient, thus becoming of course more oblivious to all other matters. The case of the footman of Halle who always awoke before reaching the small foot bridge with steps, as given by Sir William Hamilton, is in point here. What conscious activity of his mind was at work was all directed toward awaking at that one place and time. This proposition is a very conceivable one. For have we not ourselves, in our waking moments, become so absorbed in our subject of contemplation as to be largely unconscious of the great world of forces about us? Therefore the case of the nurse above referred to does not prove that the mind cannot be wholly unconscious under conditions favorable to sound slumber.

Finally M. Jouffroy refers to the fact of our ability to wake at an appointed hour, when, before going to sleep, we have made a firm resolution to that effect. He argues that the mind must measure time during sleep, otherwise the phenomenon would be inexplicable. It is indeed evident that the mind must retain its power of measuring time on these particular occasions. But can it therefore never sleep? Here again just as in the cases before referred to, what conscious activity of the mind is or exists, is all directed to one matter, that of time. Strangely enough, M. Jouffroy himself admits that after a night passed in the effort to awake at a given time, we do remember that during sleep we have been constantly occupied with this thought. On these occasions, he admits that our slumber is light and untranquil, the mind constantly disturbing the senses. In these admissions may we not find the explanation of the strange fact? Let us suppose that on one of these occasions we chance to be very tired, all other conditions favoring sound sleep. We shall probably then sleep soundly and in consequence of this, fail to wake at the hour.

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SHAKESPEARE'S HISTORICAL PLAYS.

BY D. J. SNIDER.

Shakespeare to a certain degree wrote his historical plays backward. The epoch nearest in time to his own age is the subject of some of his earliest productions; the blood, fate, and swift retribution so often seen in the Wars of the Roses fascinated the youthful mind of the dramatist. The Yorkian tetralogy which portrays a period of national disintegration accompanied with horrible crime and butchery, is the least retrospective, the most immediate of his works; it seeks after strong effects by means which may often be justly called sensational. To the riper age of the Poet belongs the Lancastrian tetralogy which exhibits the nation in a constructive epoch, ridding itself of a worthless monarch, subdueing rebellion at home, and conquering its hereditary enemy abroad. He thus goes back in thought as he advances in years. Still later are the Roman Historical plays; the Poet has now transcended the limits of nationality, and necessarily begins to consider the movement of universal history. Patriotic fervor subsides into a more calm development of colliding principles, and his standpoint is no longer national but worldhistorical.

This is the natural development of the individual mind, it recedes from the Present seeking the lessons of the Past and returns laden with the spoils of centuries. The world of to-day is a mystery, indeed a Babylonian confusion if we can not trace its constructive elements in that which has been. As the man grows older, he becomes more retrospective; hence he keeps looking back further and further in the history of his race to reach eternal principles. To trace the development of the individual Shakespeare we should by all means follow these plays after the order of their composition, which is for the most part backwards in time. As he recedes in the Past, he deepens in thought, expression, and treatment.

Still this is not the highest method of studying these works. History is chronological, its stream can not be turned back by any individual standing in its course, not even by Shakespeare. Its principles are to be shown by the Poet, the deepest thought of the epoch must be given by him, its profoundest struggle is