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such or such figure, size, and density; but I cannot be mistaken as to the fact, that it seems to me to be of such color, figure, etc. The former are results of perception and judgment; the latter is an immediate datum of consciousness, and cannot be called in question. To doubt our own consciousness is to call in question our very doubt, since the only evidence of our doubting is the consciousness that we doubt. As to the phenomena of the external world—the things that are passing without—I may be mistaken; as to what is passing in my own mind—the thoughts, feelings, volitions of my own conscious self—there is no room for doubt or mistake.

      Not limited to Consciousness.—I do not mean, by what has been said, to imply that in our own observation of mental phenomena we are limited to the experience of our own minds, but only that this is the principal source of our information. The mental operations of others, so far as we have access to their minds, are also legitimate data. These we may observe for ourselves in the daily intercourse of life, may notice how, under given circumstances, men will think, feel, and act, and the knowledge thus acquired will constitute a valuable addition to our self-knowledge. We may receive also, in this science, as in any other, the testimony of others as to their own mental states and operations. In so far as psychology relies upon these sources, it stands on a footing with other sciences.

      § II.—Importance of Mental Science.

      Comparative Neglect.—That the science of the mind has not hitherto held that high place in the public regard and estimation, at least in our own country, to which it is justly entitled, as compared with other branches of knowledge, can hardly be denied. The cause of this comparative neglect is to be found partly in the nature of the science itself, partly in the exclusively practical tendencies of the age.

      The first Cause considered.—The nature of the science is such that its benefits are not immediately apparent. The dullest mind can perceive some use in chemistry, or botany, or natural philosophy. They are of service in the analysis of soils, the rotation of crops, the comprehension of the laws of mechanical and chemical forces. But mental science has no such application, no such practical results patent and obvious to the careless eye. Its dwelling-place and sphere of action lie removed somewhat from the observations of men. It has no splendid cabinets or museums to throw open to the gaze of the multitude. It cannot arrange in magnificent collection all the varieties of mental action, all the complications of thought and feeling as yet observed, nor illustrate by curious instruments, and nice experiments, the wonderful laws of association, the subtle changes and swift flashes of wit and fancy, and quick strong emotion, the impulses of desire, the curious play of volition, the unexplained mystery of thought, the lights and shadows that come and go upon the field of consciousness. For these curious and wonderful phenomena of the inner life there are no philosophic instruments or experiments, no charts or diagrams. Nor are there yet brilliant discoveries to be made, nor splendid rewards to be gained by the votaries of this science. "Four or five new metals," says Sydney Smith, "have been discovered within as many years, of the existence of which no human being could have had any suspicion; but no man that I know of pretends to discover four or five new passions."

      The second Cause.—But the chief obstacle, as I suppose, to the more general cultivation of mental science is to be found in the exclusively practical tendencies of the age. We are a people given more to action than to thought, to enterprise than to speculation. This is perhaps inseparable from the condition of a new state. An age of action is seldom an age of reflection. External life demands the energies of a new people. The elements are to be subdued, mountains levelled, graded, tunnelled, roads constructed, cities built, and many useful, necessary works to be wrought with toil and cost, before that period comes of golden affluence, and leisure, and genial taste, and elegant culture, that can at once appreciate and reward the higher efforts of philosophic investigation.

      Relation to other Sciences.—The importance of mental science appears from its relation to other sciences. We find in nature a gradually ascending series. As we pass from the observation and study of the mineral to the forms of vegetable life, from the plant to the insect—and thence to the animal, and from the animal, in his various orders and classes, to man, the highest type of animated existence on the earth, we are conscious of a progression in the rank and dignity of that which we contemplate. But it is only when we turn our attention from all these to the intelligence that dwells within the man, and makes him master and lord of this lower world, that we stand upon the summit of elevation and overlook the wide field of previous inquiry. Toward this all other sciences lead, as paths along the mountain side, starting from different points, and running in different directions, converge toward a common terminus at the summit. As the mineral, the plant, the insect, the animal, in all their curious and wonderful organizations, are necessarily inferior to man, so is the science of them, however important and useful, subordinate to the science of man himself; and as the human body, curious and wonderful in its organism and its laws, is nevertheless inferior in dignity and worth to the spirit that dwells within, and is the true lord of this fair castle and this wide and beautiful domain, so is the science of the body, its mechanism, its chemistry, its anatomy, its laws, inferior to the science of the mind, the divinity within.

      Other Sciences Creations of the Mind.—Many of the sciences justly regarded as the most noble, are themselves the creations of the mind. Such, for example, is the science of number and quantity—a science leading to the most sublime results, as in the calculations of the astronomer, yet a pure product of the human intellect. Indeed what is all science but the work of mind? The creations of art are wonderful, but the mind that can conceive and execute those creations is still more to be admired. Language is wonderful, but chiefly as a production and expression of mind. The richness, the affluence, the eloquence, the exactness, the beauty, for example, of the Greek tongue, of what are these the qualities, and where did they dwell—in the Greek language, or in the Greek mind? Which is really the more noble and wonderful then, the language itself, or the mind that called into being such a language, and employed it as an instrument of expression; and of which is the science most noble and worthy of regard?

      We admire the genius of a Kepler and a Copernicus, we sympathize with their enthusiasm as they observe the movements and develop the laws of the heavenly bodies; we look through the telescope, not without a feeling of awe, as it seems to lift us up, and bear us away into the unknown and the infinite, revealing to us what it would almost seem had never been intended for the human eye to see; but one thing is even more wonderful than the telescope—that is the mind that contrived it. One thing is more awe-inspiring than the stars, and that is the mind that discovers their hidden laws, and unlocks their complicated movements; and when we would observe the most curious and wonderful thing of all, we must leave the tubes and the tables, the calculations and the diagrams with which the man works, and study the man himself, the workman.

      Relation of this Science to the practical Arts and Sciences.—But aside from the view now presented, the connection of mental science with other and practical arts and sciences is much more intimate than is usually supposed. Take for example the very noblest of all sciences—theology; we find it, in an important sense, based upon and receiving its shape and character from the views which we entertain, and the philosophy which we adopt of the human mind. Our philosophy underlies our theology, even as the solid strata that lie unseen beneath the surface give shape and contour and direction to the lofty mountain range.

      Psychology as related to Theology.—Not to speak of the very idea which we form of the divine Being, borrowed as it must be, in a sense, from our previous conception of the human mind, and our own spiritual existence, not to speak of the arguments by which we seek to establish the existence of the divine Being, involving as they do some of the nicest and most important of the laws of human thought, what problems, we may ask, go deeper into the groundwork of any theological system than those pertaining to human ability, and the freedom of the will—the government of the affections and desires—the power of a man over himself, to be other and better than he is, and to do what God requires. But these are questions purely psychological. You cannot stir a step in the application of theology to practical life, till you have settled in some way these questions, and that view, whatever it be, crude or profound, intelligible or absurd, is, for the time, your science, your philosophy of the mind.

      Psychology as

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