ese different respects, or from their consideration, soul and body
may not unaptly be compared with two stringed instruments tuned by the
same hand, and placed alongside of one another. When a string of one of
them is touched and a certain tone goes forth, the corresponding string
of the other will sound of itself and give the same tone, only somewhat
weaker. And, using this comparison, we may say that the string of
gladness in the body wakes the glad string in the soul, and the sad
string the string of sadness. This is that wonderful and noteworthy
sympathy which unites the heterogeneous principles in man so as to form
one being. Man is not soul and body--but the most inward and essential
blending of the two.

S 19.--Moods of Mind result from Moods of Body.

Hence the heaviness, the incapacity of thought, the discontented temper;
which are the consequence of excess in physical indulgence; hence the
wonderful effects of wine upon those who always drink in moderation.
"When you have drunk wine," says Brother Martin, "you see everything
double, you think doubly easily, you are doubly ready for any
undertaking, and twice as quickly bring it to a conclusion." Hence the
comfort and good-humor experienced in fine weather, proceeding partly
from association of ideas, but mostly from the increased feeling of
bodily health that goes along with it, extending over all the functions
of our organism. Then it is that people use such expressions as, "I feel
that I am well," and at such a season they are more disposed towards all
manner of mental labor, and have a heart more open to the humaner
feelings, and more prompt to the practice of moral duties. The same may
be seen in the national character of different peoples. Those who dwell
in gloomy regions mourn along with the dismal scenery: in wild and stormy
zones man grows wild: where his lot is cast in friendly climates he
laughs with the sky that is bright above him. Only under the clear
heaven of Greece lived a Homer, a Plato, a Phidias; there were born the
Muses and the Graces, while the Lapland mists can hardly bring forth men,
and never a genius. While our Germany was yet a wild forest or morass,
the German was a hunter as wild as the beast whose skin he slung about
his shoulders. As soon as industry had changed the aspect of his country
began the epoch of moral progress. I will not maintain that character
takes its rise in climate only, but it is certain that towards the