ling. A lady during her
somnambulism, observed to Despine, her physician, "You think that I do
not know what is passing around me; but you are mistaken. I see nothing;
but I _feel_ something that makes an impression on me, which I can not
explain." Another somnambulist, a patient of Hufeland, used to say
invariably, "I feel"--"I am conscious" of the existence of this or that
object. The blind girl, Jane Sullivan, described by Dr. Fowler, could,
without a guide, feel her way to every part of the work-house, and
recognize all its inmates by the feel of their hands and clothes. It is
said of Laura Bridgman, that she could, in walking through a passage,
with her hands spread before her, recognize her companions, and could in
this way distinguish even their different degrees of intellect; nay,
that she would regard with contempt a new-comer, after discovering her
weakness of mind. It has been also observed, that the pupils in the
Manchester Asylum for the Blind are aware, by this muscular sense, of
their approach, even to a lamp-post, before actually coming against or
up to it. May not the somnambulist walking through intricate passages
and performing complicated manual operations in the dark, have his
movements guided by this sense? May he not, in like manner, be sensible
of his approach to obstructing obstacles, and may not this sense, in a
higher degree of development, lead to perceptions, which are ordinarily
conveyed to the mind through their appropriate and respective organs?

The sense of hearing in somnambulism is not often suspended, for,
generally speaking, somnambulists will answer questions and carry on
conversation; but it is remarkable that the same ear which may be deaf
to the loudest noises, will perceive even a whisper from one particular
person with whom the sleeper may alone appear to hold communion. In the
"Transactions of the Medical Society" at Breslau, we meet with the case
of a somnambulist who did not hear even the report of a pistol fired
close to him. In another instance, that of Signor Augustin, an Italian
nobleman, his servants could not arouse him from his sleep by any
description of noise--even blowing a trumpet in his ear. On the other
hand, the same individual would, in another paroxysm, apply his ear to
the key-hole of the door, and listen attentively to noises which he
heard in the kitchen. The sense of smell, as we have observed, is
frequently altered. Brimstone and phosphorus are said to h