natural signs depends in part on experience and on deductions drawn from that experience; but the power is evidently in some degree instinctive. Often, when we see, both in children and in older persons, the strong outward manifestations of grief, when we are at the same time assured that there is but little of suffering in fact, we find ourselves very sensibly affected. So, when we see an actor on the stage with distorted countenance and accents of deep grief, the outward signs carry a momentary conviction and a momentary pang to our own hearts, in spite of the admonitions of reason; a circumstance which cannot well be accounted for, except on the ground that these signs speak to us with a natural power; that is to say, are instinctively interpreted.

§ 105. Of the final cause or use of instincts.

Although the instincts, as a general statement, commend themselves less decisively to our regard and admiration than some other portions of the mind, they still have their important uses. It seems, in particular, to be the design of the instinctive part of our nature to aid and protect us in those cases where reason cannot come seasonably to our aid. According as the reasoning powers acquire strength, and prepare themselves more and more for the various emergencies to which we are exposed, the necessity of instinctive aids. is proportionally diminished. But there are some cases which the reasoning power never can reach; and, consequently, our whole protection is in instinct.

It is evident, therefore, that they are a necessary part of our constitution; that they help to complete the mental system; and although of subordinate power and value in man, compared with the inferior animals, they still have their worth. As the reasoning power predominates in man, so instincts predominate in the lower animals; and as we do not expect to find the glory of reasoning in brutes, so we should not expect to discover the full excellence of instinctive powers in men, but should rather look for them in the

insect and the worm, in the beasts of the field, and the fishes of the sea, and the fowls of the air, dwelling in them as a part of their nature, and blessing while they control and guide them.

CHAPTER III.

APPETITES.

§ 106. Of the general nature and characteristics of the appetites. UNDER the general head of Desires, the subject of APPETITES seems next to propose itself for consideration. But as it is one of limited extent, and of subordinate importance in a metaphysical point of view, only a few remarks will be necessary. The arrangement, which brings the subject forward for discussion under the head of Desires, will recommend itself on a very little attention. The prominent appetites are those of HUNGER and THIRST; but the appetite of hunger is nothing more than the desire for food; the appetite of thirst is a desire for drink.

Nevertheless, they appear to be sufficiently distinguished from the other desires. They are not, like the instincts, always gratified in a certain fixed and particular manner, nor are they like them in being wholly independent of the reasoning power. On the contrary, they may be restrained and regulated in some degree; and when it is otherwise, their demands may be quieted in various ways.

But, without dwelling upon such considerations, the statement has been made, with much appearance of reason, that they are characterized by these three things: (1.) They take their rise from the body, and are common to men with the brutes.-(2.) They are not constant in their operation, but occasional.-(3.) They are accompanied with an uneasy sensation.

It may be remarked here, that the feeling of uneasiness now referred to appears always to precede the desire or appetite, and to be essential to it.

§ 107. The appetites necessary to our preservation, and not originally of a selfish character.

Although our appetites do not present much of interest, considered as parts of our mental economy, they have their important uses in connexion with the laws and requirements of our physical nature. "The appetites of hunger and thirst," says Stewart, "were intended for the preservation of the individual, and without them reason would have been insufficient for this important purpose. Suppose, for example, that the appetite of hunger had been no part of our constitution, reason and experience might have satisfied us of the necessity of food to our preservation; but how should we have been able, without an implanted principle, to ascertain, according to the varying state of our animal economy, the proper seasons for eating, or the quantity of food that is salutary to the body? The lower animals not only receive this information from nature, but are, moreover, directed by instinct to the particular sort of food that is proper for them to use in health and in sickness. The senses of taste and smell, in the savage state of our species, are subservient, at least in some degree, to the same purpose.

"Our appetites can with no propriety be called selfish, for they are directed to their respective objects as ultimate ends, and they must all have operated, in the first instance, prior to any experience of the pleasure arising from their gratification. After this experience, indeed, the desire of enjoyment will naturally come to be combined with the appetite; and it may sometimes lead us to stimulate or provoke the appetite with a view to the pleasure which is to result from indulging it. Imagination, too, and the association of ideas, together with the social affections, and sometimes the moral faculty, lend their aid, and all conspire together in forming a complex passion, in which the animal appetite is only one ingredient. In proportion as this passion is gratified, its influence over the conduct becomes the more irresistible (for all the active determinations of our nature are strengthened

by habit), till at last we struggle in vain against its tyranny. A man so enslaved by his animal appetites exhibits humanity in one of its most miserable and contemptible forms."*

§ 108. Of the prevalence and origin of appetites for intoxicating drugs. There are not only natural appetites, but artificial or acquired ones. It is no uncommon thing to find persons who have formed an appetite for ardent spirits, for tobacco, for opium, and intoxicating drugs of various kinds. It is a matter of common remark, that the appetite for inebriating liquors in particular is very prevalent, especially among Savage tribes.-And it may be proper briefly to explain the origin of such appetites.

Such drugs and liquors as have been referred to have the power of stimulating the nervous system, and by means of this excitement they cause a degree of pleasure. This pleasurable excitement is soon followed by a corresponding degree of languor and depression, to obtain relief from which resort is again had to the intoxicating draught or drug. This results not only in a restoration, but an exhilaration of spirits, which is again followed by depression and distress. And thus resort is had, time after time, to the strong drink, the tobacco, the opium, or whatever it is which intoxicates, until an appetite is formed so strong as to subdue, lead captive, and brutalize the subject of it; so that the only way to avoid the forming of such a habit, after the first erroneous step has been taken, is quietly to endure the subsequent unhappiness attendant on the pleasurable excitement of intoxication, till the system has time to recover itself, and to throw off its wretchedness by its own efforts.

§ 109. Of occasional desires for action and repose.

Our occasional desires for action and repose are, in some respects, allied to our appetites. Although it has so happened that these desires have not been marked * Stewart's Philosophy of the Moral and Active Powers, bk. i., chap. i.

by a separate and specific name, they may justly claim, as parts of our mental nature, some attention. Mr. Stewart remarks that they have the three characteristics of the appetites, and proceeds to explain them as follows:

"They are common, too, to man and to the lower animals, and they operate, in our own species, in the most infant state of the individual. In general, every animal we know is prompted by an instinctive impulse to take that degree of exercise which is salutary to the body, and is prevented from passing the bounds of moderation by that languor and desire of repose which are the consequences of continued exertion.

"There is also something very similar to this with respect to the mind. We are impelled by nature to the exercise of its different faculties, and we are warned, when we are in danger of overstraining them, by a consciousness of fatigue. After we are exhausted by a long course of application to business, how delightful are the first moments of indolence and repose! O che bella cosa di far niente! We are apt to imagine that no inducement shall again lead us to engage in the bustle of the world; but, after a short respite from our labors, our intellectual vigor returns; the mind rouses from its lethargy like a giant from his sleep, and we feel ourselves urged by an irresistible impulse to return to our duties as members of society."

§ 110. Of the twofold operation and the morality of the appetites. In accordance with the remarks in the last section in the chapter on the Nature of desires, we may add here the general statement, that the operation of all the Appetites, of whatever kind, is twofold, INSTINCTIVE and VOLUNTARY. So far as they are directed to their objects as ultimate ends, without taking into consideration anything else, that operation is obviously analogous to that of the pure instincts. But, after the first instance of their gratification, they may be instigated to subsequent actions, not so much by a view of the ultimate object as of the pleasure accessory to