to illustrate the nature of the instinctive principle.-The philosopher Galen once took a kid from its dead mother by dissection, and, before it had tasted any food, brought it into a certain room, having many vessels full, some of wine, some of oil, some of honey, some of milk, or some other liquor, and many others filled with different sorts of grain and fruit, and there laid it. After a little time the embryon had acquired strength enough to get up on its feet; and it was with sentiments of strong admiration that the spectators saw it adva ice towards the liquors, fruit, and grain, which were placed round the room, and, having smelt all of them, at last sup the milk alone. About two months afterward, the tender sprouts of plants and shrubs were brought to it, and, after smelling all of them and tasting some, it began to eat of such a are the usual food of goats.

It

The cells constructed by the united efforts of a hive of bees have often been referred to as illustrating the nature of instincts. "It is a curious mathematical prob.em," says Dr. Reid," at what precise angle the three planes which compose the bottom of a cell in a honey-comb ought to meet, in order to make the greatest saving or the least expense of material and labour. This is one of those problems belonging to the higher parts of mathematics, which are called problems of maxima and minima. has been resolved by some mathematicians, particularly by the ingenious Mr. Maclaurin, by a fluxionary calculation, which is to be found in the Transactions of the Royal Society of London. He has determined precisely the angle required; and he found, by the most exact mensuration the subject could admit, that it is the very angle in which the three planes in the bottom of the cell of a honey-comb do actually meet.

"Shall we ask here, who taught the bee the properties of solids, and to resolve problems of maxima and mini ma? We need not say that bees know none of these things. They work most geometrically, without any knowledge of geometry; somewhat like a child, who, by turning the handle of an organ, makes good music without any knowledge of music. The art is not in the child, but in him who made the organ. In like manner

when a bee makes its comb so geometrically, the geome try is not in the bee, but in that great Geometrician who made the bee, and made all things in number, weight, and measure."

313. Instances of instincts in the human mind.

But it is not our design to enter particularly into the subject of the instincts of animals in this place, although this topic is undoubtedly one of exceeding interest both to the philosopher and the Christian. Such inquiries are too diverse and remote from our main object, which has particular, if not exclusive, reference to the economy of human nature. There are certain instinctive tendencies in man, as well as in the inferior animals; but they are few in number; and, compared with the other parts of his nature, are of subordinate importance. Some of them will now be referred to.

(I.) The action of respiration is thought, by some wri ters, to imply the existence of an instinct. We cannot suppose that the infant at its birth has learned the impor tance of this act by reasoning upon it; and he is as ignorant of the internal machinery which is put in opera. tion, as he is of its important uses. And yet he puts the whole machinery into action at the very moment of coming into existence, and with such regularity and success that we cannot well account for it, except on the ground of an instinctive impulse.

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(II.) "By the same kind of principle," says Dr. Reid, Essays on the Active Powers, iii., chapter ii.,) a newborn child, when the stomach is emptied, and nature has brought milk into the mother's breast, sucks and swallows its food as perfectly as if it knew the principles of that operation, and had got the habit of working according to them.

"Sucking and swallowing are very complex operations. Anatomists describe about thirty pairs of muscles that must be employed in every draught. Of those muscles, every one must be served by its proper nerve, and can make no exertion but by some influence communicated by the nerve. The exertion of all those muscles and nerves is not simultaneous. They must succeed each

other in a certain order, and their order is no less necessary than the exertion itself.―This regular train of operations is carried on, according to the nicest rules of art, by the infant, who has neither art, nor science, nor experience, nor habit.

"That the infant feels the uneasy sensation of hunger, I admit; and that it sucks no longer than till this sensation be removed. But who informed it that this uneasy sensation might be removed, or by what means? That it knows nothing of this is evident, for it will as readily suck a finger, or a bit of stick, as the nipple."

(III.) The efforts which men make for self-preservation appear to be in part of an instinctive kind. If a man is in danger of falling from unexpectedly losing his balance, we say with much propriety that the instantaneous effort he makes to recover his position is instinctive. If a person is unexpectedly and suddenly plunged into a river, the first convulsive struggle which he makes for his safety seems to be of the same kind. His reasoning powers. may soon come to his aid, and direct his further measures for his preservation; but his first efforts are evidently made on another principle. When a violent blow is aimed at one, he instinctively shrinks back, although he knew beforehand it would be aimed in sport, and al though his reason told him there was no danger.

314. Further instances of instincts in men.

(IV.) There is also a species of resentment which may properly be called instinctive. Deliberate resentment implies the exercise of reason, and is excited only by intentional injury. Instinctive resentment, on the other hand, operates whether the injury be intentional or not, and precisely as it does in the lower animals.

When we experience pain which is caused by some external object, this feeling arises in the mind with a greater or less degree of power, and prompts us to retaliate on the cause of it. A child, for instance, stumbles over a stone or stick of wood and hurts himself, and, under the impulse of instinctive resentment, violently beats the unconscious cause of its suffernig. Savages, when they have been struck by an arrow in battle, have been known to tear

it froin the woundl, break, and bite it with their teeth, and dash it on the ground, as if the original design and impetus of destruction were in the arrow itself.-Similar views will apply, under certain circumstances, to many other active principles.

(V.) There is undoubtedly danger of carrying the doctrine of the instinctive tendencies of the human mind too far; but we may consider ourselves safe in adding to those which have been mentioned, the power of interpreting natural signs. Whenever we see the outward signs of rage, pity, grief, joy, or hatred, we are able immediately to interpret them. It is abundantly evident that children, at a very early period, read and decipher, in the looks and gestures of their parents, the emotions and passions, whether of a good or evil kind, with which they are agitated.

315. Of the final cause or use of instincts.

Although the instincts, as a general statement, com mend themselves less decisively to our regard and admiration than some other portions of the mind, they still have their important uses. It seems, in particular, to be the design of the instinctive part of our nature to aid and protect us in those cases where reason cannot come seasonably to our aid. According as the reasoning powers acquire strength, and prepare themselves more and more for the various emergencies to which we are exposed, the necessity of instinctive aids is proportionally diminished. But there are some cases which the reasoning power can never reach; and, consequently, our whole protection is in instinct.

It is evident, therefore, that they are a necessary part of our constitution; that they help to complete the mental system; and although of subordinate power and value in man, compared with the inferior animals, they still have their worth. As the reasoning power predominates in man, so instincts predominate in the lower animals; and as we do not expect to find the glory of reasoning in brutes, so we should not expect to discover the full excellence of instinctive powers in men; but should rather look for them in the insect and the worm, in the beasts of

the field, and the fishes of the sea, and the fc wls of the air, dwelling in them as a part of their nature, and blessing while they control and guide them.

CHAPTER III.

APPETITES.

§ 316. Of the general nature and characteristics of the appetites. UNDER the general head of Desires, the subject of APPETITES seems next to propose itself for consideration. But as it is one of limited extent, and of subordinate importance in a metaphysical point of view, only a few remarks will be necessary. The arrangement, which brings the subject forward for discussion under the head of Desires, will recommend itself on a very little attention. The prominent appetites are those of HUNGER and THIRST; but the appetite of hunger is nothing more than the desire for food; the appetite for thirst is a desire for drink.

Nevertheless, they appear to be sufficiently distinguished from the other desires. They are not like the instincts, always gratified in å certain fixed and particular manner; nor are they like them in being wholly independent of the reasoning power. On the contrary, they may be restrained and regulated in some degree; and when it is otherwise, their demands may be quieted in various ways.

But without dwelling upon such considerations, the statement has been made with much appearance of rea son, that they are characterized by these three things.—.. (1.) They take their rise from the body, and are common to men with the brutes.-(2.) They are not constant in their operation, but occasional.-(3.) They are accompanied with an uneasy sensation.

It may be remarked here, that the feeling of uneasiness now referred to appears always to precede the desire or appetite, and to be essential to it.

§ 317. The appetites necessary to our preservation, and not originally of a selfish character.

Although our appetites do not present much of inter