of metaphysics with physics
has only been productive of the wildest fairy tales among philosophers:
with one party the soul seems to pass away in its last puff of air,
while man seems to perish in "dust to dust;" the other as successfully
gets rid of our bodies altogether, by denying the existence of matter.
We are not certain that mind and matter are distinct existences, since
the one may be only a modification of the other; however this great
mystery be imagined, we shall find with Dr. Gregory, in his lectures "on
the duties and qualifications of a physician," that it forms an equally
necessary inquiry in the sciences of _morals_ and of _medicine_.

Whether we consider the vulgar distinction of mind and body as an union,
or as a modified existence, no philosopher denies that a reciprocal
action takes place between our moral and physical condition. Of these
sympathies, like many other mysteries of nature, the cause remains
occult, while the effects are obvious. This close, yet inscrutable
association, this concealed correspondence of parts seemingly
unconnected, in a word, this reciprocal influence of the mind and the
body, has long fixed the attention of medical and metaphysical
inquirers; the one having the care of our exterior organization, the
other that of the interior. Can we conceive the mysterious inhabitant as
forming a part of its own habitation? The tenant and the house are so
inseparable, that in striking at any part of the dwelling, you
inevitably reach the dweller. If the mind be disordered, we may often
look for its seat in some corporeal derangement. Often are our thoughts
disturbed by a strange irritability, which we do not even pretend to
account for. This state of the body, called the _fidgets_, is a disorder
to which the ladies are particularly liable. A physician of my
acquaintance was earnestly entreated by a female patient to give a name
to her unknown complaints; this he found no difficulty to do, as he is a
sturdy asserter of the materiality of our nature; he declared that her
disorder was atmospherical. It was the disorder of her frame under damp
weather, which was reacting on her mind; and physical means, by
operating on her body, might be applied to restore her to her half-lost
senses. Our imagination is higher when our stomach is not overloaded; in
spring than in winter; in solitude than amidst company; and in an
obscured light than in the blaze and heat of the noon. In all these
cases the