mutation of matter in obedience to the instinct of reparation; it explains also death, which is the climax of this tendency to compacity, opposing insurmountable obstacles to the renovating torrent.

Every rise in the series of organisms brings along with it a disengagement of individuality, a manifestation of greater spontaneity. Man is subject, like inorganic bodies, to the physical laws governing all matter. He develops like the plant and he moves like the beast. He is composed of a portion of matter assuming a determined form, and also, of an internal motor, which moves the totality of this material mass as a lever moves a stone.

This invisible motor in the animal and in man is called Instinct. It excites the organism for the purposes of selfprotection, self-perfection and reproduction.

The object set before animal life, and clearly attainable by it, is individual development and propagation of the species. The law of its life is the accomplishment of these two purposes. Its pleasure consists in their attainment. Having attained them its satisfaction is complete. There is no uncertainty in the beast, no conflicting instincts in its nature; it is therefore subject to no doubt, no hesitation; it can do no moral wrong.

Its motive force finds expression in four animal cravings, which are the manifestation of a conservative and governing will, and are limited to the assurance of its own existence and the perpetuation of its species. The analysis of the body shews us organs adapted to the functions it is called upon to accomplish daily. The animal instincts are these:1. The instinct of reparation by food and by sleep; 2. That of secretion;

3. That of self-defence;

4. That of reproduction.

The law of progression applies to all organized beings, and to all transitions from one reign to another.

From the conferva to the oak, from the amoeba to the lion, organization becomes more complicated; rudimental systems appearing in one class of beings are perfected in another. Everywhere the force of progress appears as the mainspring of life and perfection; it is visible in the transition from one realm to another, from one species to another, and in every individual in the advance from germ to maturity. Man passes through the stages of physical, instinctive, and intelligent life. His uterine existence represents the vegetative stage, his infancy is instinctive and animal; during childhood his intellectual powers are dawning, they blaze into energy at adolescence.

The inferior conditions of being do not disappear as those which are superior emerge, but continue to subsist, so that the human being is subject to the physical laws affecting inorganic matter, to the laws of vegetative growth, and to the laws of animal instincts. He is a mineral, a vegetable, and an animal at once. Physical laws determine his death, -dragging the constituents back from their vital unity into their passivity once more. That wonderful internal microscopic floriation in either sex before fecundation is vegetative. And every animal appetite that characterizes the beast exhibits itself in man.

But in addition to the corporal instincts attaching him to the realm below, man has instincts which distinguish him from it, instincts which are peculiarly his own. He is double. He is, as Pascal says, "neither an angel nor a brute, but a little of both." This duality produces conflict. "Vivere, mi Lucili, militare est!" 1

He has two sets of appetites, those belonging to him as 1 Seneca: Epist. 96.

He can

an animal, and those belonging to him as a man. find happiness certainly in the satisfaction of his carnal desires, because he is an animal; but that happiness will not be perfect because he is not an animal only. Above the corporal instincts he shares with his dog,-corporal, because they find their complete expression and entire satisfaction. in the play of his organs, are the spiritual instincts, speculative and moral,—in other words, the appetite to know, and the appetite to love.

Happiness is the signal to announce to the vital force within that the nature of the animal has met with satisfaction exactly commensurate with its want. If, then, we desire to know what is the σkоπós to which the instincts tend, we have only to ascertain in what those instincts find pleasure.

When the animal lies down in the sun full fed, its happiness is absolute, its satisfaction is complete. In like manner happiness gives notice to the spiritual nature when its appetites touch and assimilate its natural food; and as the purpose of the animal appetite is the perfection of the body, so, the purpose of the spiritual appetite is the development of the soul. I must be allowed, at this stage of my argument, to call the higher force in man,—the presence of which all admit, though its nature may be disputed,— the soul, without committing myself thereby to an admission of its immateriality or of its supernatural origin. I use the word for convenience only, to express that superior life distinguishing man, which, though various in its manifestations, is essentially one.

The analogy between the soul and the body is closer than is suspected. As there is a dualism in the life of the body, organic and animal, so are there in the soul two modes of life, that which is intellectual, and that which is

moral. And as the animal or the organic life may be present, and yet be paralyzed, so may the intellectual or the moral life be present and yet be paralyzed. The paralysis of intellect is idiocy, the paralysis of morals is vice.

As the animal life has its law of progress, so has the spiritual life; as the former has its wants, so has the latter; as the accomplishment of the animal wants is attended by complete satisfaction, so is the realization of the spiritual wants signalized by contentment. As those things affording animal pleasure are necessary to the well-being of the body, so are those things yielding intellectual or moral delight necessary for the perfecting of the spirit.

If then we know what things gratify our higher nature, we know that they are things for which our spiritual instincts are designed, and we know also that they are things essential to the preservation, development and propagation of the spiritual life.

We have therefore to inquire what are those things which do satisfy the spiritual instincts.

On examination, we find that they may all be reduced to three classes, the true, the beautiful, and the good. We find also that the true satisfy the reason of man; the beautiful satisfy his sentiment; and the good are of a mixed order, satisfying both. Man's spiritual being is double, reason and sentiment, therefore the spiritual instincts are double; they may be summed up under two heads, the desire to know and the desire to love, the former rational, the latter sentimental.

The desire to know, in other words,-Curiosity, is a movement of the soul towards Truth, which it seeks to assimilate by Knowledge. It is the first step in the direction of Certainty, furnishing the mind at every instant with materials for judgment and motives for action. It is restless, for Truth is complex; it is insatiable, for Truth is infinite.

The desire to love is the impulsion of the soul towards the Ideal, it is the sense of the indefinite, the perfect. It is also insatiable, for the perfect is always on the horizon, never attainable.

That pleasure does attend the acquisition of knowledge does not admit of doubt. Take mathematical truths as an instance, the clearest of all to man's perception. Is it not a fact that as soon as the mind has resolved a problem it reposes in the solution with entire complacency? Are not those truths alone completely satisfactory which are absolutely unassailable? Does not a rational verity cease to give pleasure the moment it is breathed upon by doubt, and does not the suspicion of uncertainty goad the mind into inquiry which it cannot relinquish till it has again arrived at an unassailable truth, in which its energy may expire?

In analytical science again, it is truth lying at the bottom of the analysis which attracts the student; and the discovery of a scientific law satisfies the intellectual appetite precisely as food satisfies a hungry dog.

Supreme happiness to reason, that is the Ideal of the intellect, is the attainment of certainty upon every subject and about all things.

The assimilation of truth, or knowledge, is therefore that for which the reason is constituted.

That pleasure does attend the pursuit of the Ideal of beauty who can doubt? It is greater in degree than that afforded by the attainment of truth by the intellect. Music, poetry, painting, sculpture and architecture, the prismatic gleams of the perfect, vibrate through the soul. Beauty warms, and Truth illumines. There is this peculiarity about the pleasure derived from the beautiful, that when raised. to the highest pitch it sharpens into pain, acute and exquisite-pain which is itself a delight, produced by the