sensations; we have a series of sensations; we have a belief; we have a belief in time; a belief in time as permanent, and of possibilities in time. These are evidently different from each other, consciousness being witness. The belief is not the same as the sensations, or the series of sensations. The permanence is not identical with the belief. The possibility is different from the permanent. I know no philosopher who has called in so many unresolved instincts to account for our convictions of memory and personal identity as Mr. Mill has done. His psychological method is multiplying, instead of diminishing, ultimate elements. His system, so far from being simple, is in reality very complex; and its apparent simplicity arises merely from his never summing up, or distinctly enunciating, the original principles he is obliged to postulate and assume.

But I would not have objected to his system merely because of its complexity, provided it had embraced all the phenomena. But I deny that he has noticed, or stated correctly, the facts of consciousness. No doubt there is a belief; but it is a belief in my past existence, conjoined with a knowledge of my present existence. There is time, an idea of time, and a conviction of the reality of time; but it is in the form of a belief that I existed in time past. There is more than a belief, there is an immediate decision, that the present self known is the same with the past self remembered. There is more than an idea of mere possibility, there is the assurance that

I did exist at a particular time, and that I who then existed do now exist. I acknowledge that I have no intuitive certainty that I existed every moment of a dreamless sleep. I have intuitive assurance that I existed when I fell asleep, and that I exist now when I have awoke, and I am led by the ordinary rules of evidence to believe that I existed in the interval. Here it is that Mr. Mill's permanent possibility of feeling comes in: I believe that had I been awakened sooner, I should have been consciously active as I now am. But these very possibilities all proceed on an intuitive remembrance of self, and an intuitive decision as to the identity of self.

Mr. Mill labors to prove that his psychological theory leaves the doctrines that our fellow-men exist, and that God exists, and that the soul is immortal, where it found them. For we look on other people's minds as but a series of feelings like our own; and we may regard the Divine Being as "a series of the Divine thoughts and feelings prolonged throughout eternity;" and our immortal existence to be "a succession of feelings prolonged to eternity." (p. 207211.) Now we are not yet in a position to inquire (which is the all-important question) whether Mr. Mill's theory admits of the usual arguments for the existence of our fellow-men, and of God, and of an immortal life; or whether, if it cannot adopt the old arguments, it furnishes new ones. But before leaving our present subject I may remark, that the common doctrine, which I believe to be the true one,

and which I have endeavored to enunciate philosophically, is much more in accordance with our cherished convictions and sentiments than the subtle one defended by Mr. Mill. As believing that I myself am more than a series of feelings, that I have a per manent existence amid all mutations, I can, on evidence being adduced of their existence, take the same view of my fellow-men, of my friends, and my family; that is, I can look upon them as having not only a permanent possibility of feelings, but a permanent personality, round which my affections may cluster and which leads me to treat them as responsible beings like myself. He says elsewhere (Logic, B. II. c. xxiv. § 1): "My belief that the Emperor of China exists is simply my belief that if I were transported to the imperial palace, or some other locality in Pekin, I should see him. My belief that Julius Cæsar existed is my belief that I should have seen him if I had been present in the field of Pharsalia, or the senate-house at Rome." This is to reverse the proper order of things, and to confuse all our conceptions. Looking on ourselves as persons with a permanent being, on evidence produced of their existence, we take the same view of the Emperor of China and Julius Cæsar, and thus believe that if we were in Pekin we should see the one, and that if we had been in the battle of Pharsalia we should have seen the other. The picture presented of the Divine Being, in this new philosophy, will appear to the great body of mankind to be unattractively bare

and unmeaning, or rather in the highest degree shadowy, uncertain, and evanishing; and they will rejoice when they are invited to contemplate Him instead as Jehovah, I AM THAT I AM, the independent and self-existent One. I am not inclined to urge our conviction of personality and personal identity as in itself a proof of our immortality; but in constructing the cumulative argument, and cherishing the hope of a life beyond the grave, I feel it satisfactory to regard myself, I believe on sufficient evidence, not as a permanent possibility of feeling, but a permanent being, the same in the world to come as in this.

We may now combine the results which we have reached. In every conscious act we know an existing thing, which when we begin to reflect we learn to call self, manifesting itself in some particular way which we are taught to regard as an attribute. Again, in all remembrance, we recollect self as exercising some particular attribute in time past, and we know self as now 'remembering; and on comparing the two we decide that they are the same. This is a bare statement of the facts, as they daily present themselves. I defy Mr. Mill, or any other mental analyst, to reduce these facts of consciousness to fewer or simpler elements. In all consciousness, I have a knowledge of self as a person; in all remembrance, a recollection of self as a person; and in the comparison of the two a perception of their identity.

And let it be observed, that both in the conscious self and the recollected, we have the self perceived by us as operating in a great number of ways, with thoughts and emotions in infinite variety. We come, too, to discover (in a way which will come under our notice below) that there are other beings besides ourselves, who have the same personality and identity, and the like incalculable number and diversity of ideas, wishes, and feelings. As we begin to reflect on all this, and as we would speak about it, and make ourselves intelligible, we find it convenient to have a word to denote that which abideth in us, and is the same in us and in others. We have such a word in Substance, and we say that "mind is a substance." In saying so, we mean nothing more than this, that in us and in others there is (1.) an existing thing; (2.) operating; (3.) with a permanence. But in saying this, we say much, that is, we make a statement full of meaning. By multiplying words of description or explanation we should only confuse and perplex the subject, which may be clearly discerned if only we look steadily at it, and weigh the several parts which make up the indissoluble whole.

And here I feel myself called on to state that no doctrine of modern philosophy, not even the ideal theory, or theory of representative ideas, so condemned by Reid and exposed by Hamilton, has wrought such mischief in speculation as that of Locke in regard to substance. His statements on this