tures which are contained within, by forcing us to avoid injuries; and that it does afford us a more effectual defence than if our bodies were covered with the hide of a rhinoceros. "In pursuing the inquiry," says he, "we learn, with much interest, that when the bones, joints, and all the membranes and ligaments which cover them, are exposed, they may be cut, pricked, or even burned, without the patient or the animal suffering the slightest pain. These facts must appear to be conclusive; for who, witnessing these instances of insensibility, would not conclude that the parts were devoid of sensation; but when we take the true philosophical, and, I may say, religious view of the subject, and consider that pain is not an evil, but given for benevolent purposes, and for some important object, we should be unwilling to terminate the investigation here. "In the first place, we must perceive, that, if a sensibility, similar to that of the skin, had been given to these internal parts, it must have remained unexercised. Had they been made sensible to pricking and burning, they would have possessed a quality which would never have been useful, since no such injuries can reach them, or never without warning being received through the sensibility of the skin. "But, further, if we find that sensibility to pain is a benevolent provision, and is bestowed for the purpose of warning us to avoid such violence as would affect the functions or uses of the parts, we may yet inquire, whether any injury can reach these internal parts, without the sensibility of the skin being excited. Now, of this there can be no doubt, for they are subject to sprain, and rupture, and shocks, without the skin being implicated in the accident. If we have been correct in our inference, there should be a provision to guide us in the safe exercise of the limbs; and, notwithstanding what has been apparently demonstrated of the insensibility of these internal parts, they must possess an appropriate sensibility, or it would imply an imperfection. With these reflections we recur to experiment, and we find that the parts I. 2 VII. which are insensible to pricking, cutting, and burning, are actually sensible to concussion, to stretching, or laceration. "How consistent, then, and beautiful is the distribution of this quality of life! The sensibility of pain varies with the function of the part. The skin is endowed with sensibility to every possible injurious impression which may be made upon it; but had this kind and degree of sensibility been made universal, we should have been racked with pain in the common motions of the body; the mere weight of one part on another, or the motion of the joint, would have been attended with that degree of suffering which we experience in using or walking upon an inflamed limb. "But, on the other hand, had the deeper parts possessed no sensibility, we should have had no guide in our exertions. They have a sensibility limited to the kind of injury which it is possible may reach them, and which teaches us what we can do with impunity. If we leap from too great a height, or carry too great a burden, or attempt to interrupt a body whose impetus is too great for us, we are warned of the danger as effectually by this internal sensibility, as we are of the approach of a sharp point, or a hot iron to the skin.”* To this striking pathological argument for benevolent contrivance, might be added proofs without end, from the principles of mechanics. The whole animal frame, indeed, is a piece of the most exquisite mechanism, and the studies of the anatomist abound with demonstrations of the most satisfactory kind. Not only do we find every joint, bone, and sinew, of every species of animal, so adapted to all the rest, and to the nature of its food and habits, as to constitute a perfect system, considered in itself, but when one species of living creatures is compared with others, new kinds of relations and adaptations are discovered, which greatly extend our views of creative contrivance, and increase our admiration. Sir Charles Bell, in the work from which we have quoted, * Bell's Bridgewater Treatise, pp. 155–157. has followed out this inquiry, as respects the human hand, in a very interesting manner; and we cannot better close this paper, than by extracting a few sentences from a passage where he follows out the principle on which he so successfully expatiates. "Were I to indulge in the admiration naturally arising out of this subject, and point out the strength and freedom of motion in the upper extremity at the ball and socket joint of the shoulder,-the firmness of the articulation of the elbow, and yet how admirably it is suited to the cooperation of the hands,-the fineness of the motion of the hand itself, divided among the joints of twentynine bones, it might be objected to with some show of reason, and it might be said,-The bones and the forms of the joints which you are admiring, are so far from being peculiarly suited to the hand of man, that they may be found in any vertebrated animal. But this would not abate our admiration; it would only induce us to take a more comprehensive view of nature, and remind us that our error was in looking at a part only, instead of embracing the whole system; where, by slight changes, and gradations hardly perceptible, the same bones are adjusted to every condition of animal existence. "We recognise the bones which form the upper extremity of man, in the fin of a whale, in the paddle of the turtle, in the wing of the bird. We see the same bones, perfectly suited to their purpose, in the paw of the lion or the bear, and equally fitted for motion in the hoof of the horse, or in the foot of the camel, or adjusted for climbing or digging, in the long-clawed feet of the sloth or bear [beaver?]. ***** "The wonder still is, that, whether we examine this system in man, or in any of the inferior species of animals, nothing can be more curiously adjusted or appropriated; and we should be inclined to say, whatever instance occupied our thoughts for the time, that to this particular object the system had been framed."* * Bell's Bridgewater Treatise, pp. 20—22. FIRST WEEK-WEDNESDAY. GLOBULAR FIGURE OF THE EARTH. THE character which, in the two preceding papers, we stated as belonging to the works of God, consisting, as it does, not in absolute perfection, but rather in contrivances and compensations to abate imperfection, runs through every thing in nature, and may be equally traced in the moral and physical worlds. It may be useful and interesting to examine this character in some of the great arrangements of external nature. That the universe should be governed by general laws impressed on matter, is a providential arrangement, the consummate wisdom of which it requires no effort of reasoning to demonstrate; and that these laws should be fixed and undeviating, is a necessary consequence of their existence; for, were they to any great extent to yield to circumstances, they would cease to possess the character of principles, on the results of which it would be possible either to reason or to act, that is, they would cease to be general laws. Now, one of these general laws, as simple in its nature, as it is universal in its operations, and amazing in its effects, is the principle of gravitation, of which it has been beautifully said,— "The very law which moulds a tear, And makes it trickle from its source, The globular figure of the earth, which is the result of this law, and which may easily be shown to possess many important advantages, presents this formidable difficulty, that the rays of the sun, issuing in parallel lines from that luminary, must fall directly upon that part of the terrestrial ball which is immediately opposed to them, * Rogers. and obliquely, and therefore less powerfully, upon all other parts of its convex surface, till, at the extremes of the hemisphere, they would entirely cease to reach the earth. Were the earth stationary, therefore, the consequence of its globular form would be, that the sun would shine intensely and constantly on a single spot, while one-half of its surface would be left in total darkness, and the other would be illuminated with greater or less force, according to its distance from the sun's direct rays. The disadvantages of such an arrangement need no comment. Now, one way in which this evil is abated, is, by what is called the diurnal rotation of the earth. Our globe is made to whirl round as on two pivots, which are called the poles* of the earth, once in twenty-four hours. This, while it causes the grateful alternation of day and night, conveys light and heat round the world, so as to diffuse them with nearly equal force on every spot within the same parallel of latitude. Were the earth in the form of a cylinder or roller, this rotatory motion would cause the sun, in the course of the annual revolution, to shine equally on every part of its round surface, while his rays would never reach the wide flat regions at either end; the days and nights would then be invariably of the same length; there would be no change of climate, and all the habitable parts of the earth would be one burning tropical region, without abatement and without variety. If, on the other hand, the earth, in its present form of a ball, were to have no yearly as well as daily motion, or, having a yearly motion, were to move round its own axis in what may be considered the most simple manner, that is, in an erect position with reference to the sun, the effect would be, that he would constantly shine with his direct rays only on that single line of the earth's surface which is called the equator. There would still be no change of seasons, and the accumulated heat in the equatorial regions would be so excessive, as to destroy, in all probability, both animal and vegetable * The extended line through the centre of the globe, on which it turns, is called the axis of the earth,—taking the metaphor from the axis of a carriage wheel. |