divided into two distinct orders of existence, mind and matter. Matter is known by its changes alone, mind also is known only by its changes. Thus, continues he, for all scientific purposes, the analogy between the two is complete, and science in both cases is practicable only by noting these changes and the order in which they recur.
"But may I ask," interposes the foreign interlocutor, "to whom these changes are known?"
"To me, the inquirer, to be sure!" answers the metaphysician.
"Then," rejoins the other," ought you not, logically speaking, to say that your universe resolves itself into three distinct orders of existence: 1st, Mind; 2d, Matter; and 3d, This which you call 'me,' to whom the changes of the other two are known; and when sciences of the first and second are complete,
St Andrews, "a mental constitution, through which we communicate with the world around us."—(Synopsis of Lectures, p. 4.) We could quote a hundred other instances of this kind of language, but these two are sufficient for our purpose. Now, what is the obvious and irresistible inference which such language as this forces upon us? or, rather, what is the plain meaning of the words we have quoted? It is this, that we possess a mind just as we possess a body; that is to say, that man consists of three elements, mind, body, and himself possessing both. This view of the subject may be disclaimed and protested against in words, but still it continues virtually to form the leading idea of the whole of our popular psychology. We may, indeed, be told that "mind" and ourselves are identical, but this statement is never acted upon to any real purpose, this fact is never sifted with any degree of attention. If it were, then "mind" would be altogether annihilated as an object of investigation. This is what we have endeavoured to make out in the chapter which this note accompanies.
