discovery, I beg to submit to you whether we should not determine on a sixth sense, to which I propose to apply a term in common use, and of which the skin is also the organ. The sensations of Heat, Cold, Pain, Itching, &c. in all their degrees and varieties, have hitherto been assigned to the province of touch. We have now ample reason, if we chuse, for limiting the term touch to forces; and the name of the sixth sense I propose should be FEELING, if we are to have one. This term has been in common use, and been assumed as synonymous with touch. It appears now to be probable that physiologists may hereafter find the complete separation of the two terms useful; and it may be so in ordinary discourse.

*Before concluding, allow me to remark on the extraordinary economy observed in the structure of our bodies, an economy which weighs strongly against the farther multiplication of senses, without good cause shewn. Taking the instrument of the sense of Touch, as heretofore understood, and which I have shewn reason for believing to be the instrument of more than one, this single instrument conveys to us ideas of Force in all its varieties, and of Form, and of all the causes of resistance to force, which are so many distinct qualities of external objects, of heat, cold, &c. The tongue conveys perception of Taste; but it also is capable of enabling us to distinguish forces, and form to a certain extent. It also assists in deglutition and swallowing. It regulates the tones of the voice, by enlarging or diminishing the capacity of the fauces; and the instinctive rapidity with which it obeys the will, so as to produce precisely the tone desired, is truly astonishing. The functions of the nose are more limited; yet it is contrived to secure breathing, should the passage by the mouth be closed, and serves as a passage for the expulsion of useless excreted matter. The ear warns us of the presence of moving bodies, and, by a comparison of the qualities and intensities of sound, it informs of the distance from which sound proceeds, and of the nature of the thing which produces it; and all this exclusive of the pleasures of music. The eye conveys to us the perception of light, and its absence, of form, colour, position, distance, height, depth, bulk, motion, rest, smoothness, roughness, transparency, opacity, &c. Now, although the skin be the instrument of many things that might be called senses, we speak only of one sense belonging to it, calling it Touch, which, as has been shewn, gives, by means of contact and forces, a knowledge of the presence and qualities of a great variety of external objects. Heat and cold may be merely qualities of some form of matter made known to us by its impinging, with a force insensible to resistance, on the skin, over which nervous fibres are spread to convey this and many other perceptions. We cannot appreciate the force of heat any more than that of light. But that they move, and that their movement implies force, however minute in degree, is obvious; and we recur to resistance: and thus I may be forced once more to embrace my First Love, as Mr Simpson good-humouredly calls it, but not as a faculty, in which character I abandoned her, but as a sense, and an old acquaintance under a new name, who seems to say, Noli me tangere. We must take care of such jade's tricks.

I firmly believe that there is a distinct nervous fibre for every distinct impression which we receive from external nature, through the fine instruments called those of the senses; but it would be endless to attempt analyzing and giving names to them all. It is also my belief, that, in every organ of the brain, there are parts innumerable, each destined to give to the mind special information, and to enable it to operate in a special manner on special subjects. But it would be useless, probably, to attempt giving names to each. It is better to retain a few terms, and to understand what they include. On this principle, the term Touch may still be retained, and both Resistance and Feeling left as they were. I am, &c. G. S. MACKENZIE.

[We refrain at present from expressing any opinion upon the question at issue between Sir George Mackenzie and Mr Simpson, in the hope that some of our medical readers will be kind enough to communicate such illustrative pathological cases as they happen to be acquainted with. Instances of loss of sensibility to heat, cold, pain, and tickling, without impairment of the power of voluntary motion, and vice versa, -are sufficiently numerous, and do not bear on the present question : what we want are cases of patients who, on coming into contact with unseen solid bodies, are made aware of this contact either by the perception of resistance alone, or solely by the sensation of heat, cold, pain, tickling, or some other analogous feeling not resolvable into the sense of resistance. We have little doubt that cases of this nature are not uncommon.-ED.]

ARTICLE X.

CEREBRAL DEVELOPMENT AND INFERRED CHARACTER OF KABOOTI, AN EGYPTIAN MUMMY, presented to the Belfast Museum, by THOMAS GREG, Esq. of Ballymenoch, county of Down. Read at a Meeting of the Belfast Natural History Society, 4th March 1835, by Mr ROBERT PATTERSON, Vice-President.

THIS mummy was unrolled on the 27th of January 1885, in the presence of a large number of the shareholders in the Mu

seum, the members of the Natural History Society, and other scientific gentlemen. From an examination of the inscription on the case in which it was contained, the Rev. Dr Hincks of Killileagh announced that the mummy was that of a female named Kabooti, the daughter of a priest of Ammon at Memphis. She was unmarried, and, although not more than from 25 to 30 years of age, had survived both her parents. The measurements and development of the organs mentioned in the annexed Table, were taken by my friend Mr Grattan and myself, the ensuing morning. The measurements may be relied on, but the development may not, in every instance, be correctly stated, from the want of that extensive practice by which alone perfect accuracy can be obtained.

As the remarks on the probable character of the individual were written for an audience few of whom had given any attention to the study of Phrenology, all the terms peculiar to that science have been sedulously avoided, and the subject has been illustrated by reference to the works of some of our most popular authors,

:

358

SKULL OF MUMMY IN BELFAST MUSEUM.

The orphan female under our consideration would be a general favourite with her companions, both from the affectionate nature of her disposition, and from her wish to gain their approval. In her childish sports she would most sedulously avoid danger. To her parents she would yield almost undeviating submission: deeply would she deplore their loss; but her mind would, in time, gradually regain all its former elasticity. Her destitute condition as an orphan might suggest gloomy anticipations of the future; but these, when they arose, would soon be dispelled by Hope, and her affections would entwine themselves around new objects of interest. Highly social in her disposition, and attached to her native city, she would regard with pride the everlasting pyramids and other works of her countrymen, and say in her heart, "This is my own, my native land." The accumulation of wealth would to her not be a permanent object, but "troops of friends" would be indispensable. Those friends would not be such as pay homage only to superior talents or superior worth brought prominently forward: they would be won by her unobtrusiveness, and attracted by the estimable qualities that lay concealed within. Excessive diffidence would pervade her general behaviour, but on occasions this would be thrown aside, and a firmness of purpose previously unsuspected would suddenly be displayed. Like Desdemona, she would act with decision when the time for decision had arrived, and to Kabooti, as well as to the gentle daughter of Brabantio, might the description of the poet have been applicable :

"A maiden never bold;

Of spirit so still and quiet that her motion
Blush'd at herself."

Othello, Act I. Scene 11.

But although such would be her general demeanour, she would not be incapable of resentment; and when once thoroughly roused, a spectator might justly describe her in terms similar to those applied by Benedict to Beatrice,

"She speaks poignards, and every word stabs."

Much ado about Nothing, Act II. Scene 11.

Her general backwardness would not be unmixed with pride; for nothing is more certain than that pride is not incompatible with bashfulness. Though kind to her friends and most affectionate towards children, benevolence abstracted from those individuals would be but little displayed in her conduct. The noble avowal of the poet,

"Homo sum, et nihil humanum ad me alienum puto," would touch no responsive chord within her breast. To Isis and Osiris she would pay the deepest and most reverential homage: the magnificence of their temples would dwell in her recollection, the legends of their power would be received with unsuspecting credulity, and the music which breathed from Memnon's statue would, to her ear, be the voice of a divinity. None amid the inhabitants of Memphis would yield more entire obedience to the commands of the priests, none celebrate with more devotional feeling the festival in honour of Apis, wail with more real grief the supposed death of the god, or hail with sincerer joy the prospect of his reappearance. If she lived at the time when Cambyses, with his victorious army, entered Memphis, slew the sacred ox, the representative of Apis, and scourged the priests who were attendant on the god, she would be horrified at impiety so glaring. Had the conqueror, desirous of winning a daughter of the priest of Ammon from the religion of her fathers, offered to her the greatest riches and honours he could confer, she would have unhesitatingly rejected them all. Had he threatened her with punishment-nay, even with death -for her obduracy, she would have been equally unmoved. Neither promises nor threats would, in this instance, have produced even a wavering in her determination. While her mind possessed the high and varied principles of action which I have been describing, it must have been deficient in all those imaginative powers which exalt and embellish life. Music and poetry would be to her all " sound and fury, signifying nothing.” She could well detect the difference in the forms of external objects, but these, however, familiar to her, would not, in her mind, be associated with numerous trains of bright and glowing fancies. A flower consecrated to the gods, might, for that reason, be valued; but, in other cases, she would resemble the individual portrayed by Wordsworth:

"The primrose by the river's brim
A yellow primrose was to him,
And it was nothing more."

The methodical arrangement of time or occupation which has been so frequently recommended, would not be adopted by her. The events which took place before her eyes would be well remembered, and she would, in referring to them, be apt to mention that they were preceded or followed by others which she would name; but she would probably not adopt for her ordinary chronological computation the custom which prevailed in Egypt, of designating the year by the number of those of the reigning monarch. Under favourable circumstances she might have become a naturalist; as such she would veraciously have recorded facts, but in the descriptions which we may conceive her to have written, the rich and imaginative diction which Humboldt has shed over the most scientific disquisitions would have been totally wanting.