like the magnet, is something--he acts. Dust
and ashes he was; dust and ashes he will be.--He may be touched, and
tasted, and seen, and smelt. In the immateriality of _his_ composition
no one believes; and none but Nonentitarians pretend to do so. He
thinks--thinking is the very condition of his existence. To think is to
live. To the sum total of vital manifestations we apply the term mind.
To call mind matter, or matter mind, is ridiculous--_genuine_ lunacy. It
would be as wise to call motion matter and wind up the spiritual work by
making nothing of both. The man who ran half round our planet in search
of his soul did not succeed in finding it. How should he when there is
no such thing as soul.

To evade the charge of Materialism, said Dr. Engledue, we
(Phrenologists) content ourselves with stating that the immaterial makes
use of the material to show forth its powers. What is the result of
this? We have the man of theory and believer in supernaturalism
quarrelling with the man of fact and supporter of Materialism. We have
two parties; the one asserting that man possesses a _spirit_ superadded
to, but not inherent in, the brain--added to it, yet having no necessary
connexion with it--producing material changes, yet immaterial--destitute
of any of the known properties of matter--in fact an _immaterial
something_ which in one word means nothing, producing all the cerebral
functions of man, yet not localised--not susceptible of proof; the other
party contending that the belief in spiritualism fetters and ties down
physiological investigation--that man's intellect is prostrated by the
domination of metaphysical speculation--that we have no evidence of the
existence of an essence, and that organised matter is all that is
requisite to produce the multitudinous manifestations of human and brute
cerebration.

We rank ourselves with the second party, and conceive that we must cease
speaking of 'the mind,' and discontinue enlisting in our investigations
a spiritual essence, the existence of which cannot be proved, but which
tends to mystify and perplex a question sufficiently clear if we confine
ourselves to the consideration of organised matter--its forms--its
changes--and its aberrations from normal structure. [46:1]

The eccentric Count de Caylus, when on his death-bed, was visited by
some near relations and a pious Bishop, who hoped that under such trying
circumstances he would manifest some concern respecting those
'spi