worries as readily at a barrow, while in motion, as at a pig and attacks the wheels of the driving carriage even more readily than the heels of the horses.

We have gone at some length into this subject, because it is the vital one in the knowledge of ourselves because it lies at the very foundation of morals and religion-because the great majority of mankind have mistaken notions respecting it-because the popular writers, almost to a man, write so as to propagate the error-and because the more skilful analysts have generally avoided it. For these reasons, we shall allow the reader to pause upon it as between chapter and chapter, before we notice the other two points.

CHAPTER IV.

MAN CAN HAVE NO KNOWLEDGE BUT WHAT HE ACQUIRES; AND NO MEANS OF ACQUIRING ORIGINAL KNOWLEDGE, EXCEPT HIS PHYSICAL POWERS OF OBSERVATION.

THE short logical demonstrations of both these propositions may be said to be given in the meaning of the word "knowledge," as explained in the beginning of the preceding chapter; but, as the right understanding of them is of some importance in showing the necessity of self-knowledge, and enforcing the necessity of its application; and as there are prejudices upon them both, scarcely less inveterate, though not quite so vital, as that which we have endeavored to expose, we enunciate them anew, and proceed to the illustration of them without farther introduction.

I. "Man can have no knowledge but what he acquires." ." Though this is almost a self-evident truth, or, at all events, is involved in the more general one that "Man can have nothing but what he acquires, save that which he gets from nature, which consists of his body and his mind, and nothing more;" yet

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there have been many disputes and prejudices about it, and there is some rubbish to be cleared away, before the public can clearly see it, or benefit by it. Some may think that, in place of the words, "nothing more," in the general truth, as above stated, "the world for the winning" ought to be substituted; but though there is some truth in this, it is not absolutely true, and therefore it is inadmissible. Men of different countries have not the same power of viewing the world; for, upon the single subject of knowledge, the savage has little more at command, in point of time, than his own brief term of life, and little more, in point of space than his own limited horizon and its trifling changes. The civilised man, on the other hand, can avail himself of the experience of thousands of years, and of the whole extent of the earth, and of the heavens too, in so far as these are matter of science. But these are not given him as a free gift, like the bodily power of seeing or hearing, or the mental one of comparing, drawing conclusions, and acting upon them. He must receive them before he can use them; and it is this necessity which renders the knowledge of ourselves, and how we may turn this knowledge to proper account, so very important and indispensable. In this case, also, and more especially in that of professional meanings, the regulations of society-even the necessary regulations, without implying that there is the least injustice in them-very much diversify the means possessed or enjoyed by different individuals. Thus, for instance, one man comes into the world with nothing

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INNOCENCE AND GUILT.

binding upon him to do, but merely enjoy it, and such a man will sometimes spend his life as much like a mere animal as ever he can—that is, in the gratification of his bodily appetites; and another man comes into the world to toil, and learn, and use, and strain, to the very utmost, all his powers of body and of mind through the entire period of his strength, and then, in his decrepitude, feels obliged to take his living burial in a workhouse, unknown and uncared for, except by those who wish him dead, in order that the parish may be spared the expense of his pittance of food, and haply sell his bones for the reimbursement of a Christian and charitable public. But still, even in these extremes, we must not judge of appearances; for the man who is expiring on the straw may have carried through life "a conscience void of offence," while the barb of remorse may have been incessantly rankling in the other. Ay, and when the last moment comes-for the justice of Heaven knows no distinction between a poor-house and a palacethe hope of the hapless man may brighten, and the fervent joy may transport his passing spirit,-"Come, thou blessed of my Father !" while, it may be, that in the other case, amid all that wealth and attendance, and medical skill can give, the blackness of darkness may be upon the mind, and the fearful sounds may, ever and anon, come from it in muttered thunder,"Depart from me, thou cursed!" and shake him with a fearfulness of anguish, compared to which the worst that the world can do would be peace and delight. Such power may the mind assume, for weal or

for woe, when it is putting off the mortal, and feeling its own independent and everlasting strength. But these are incidental matters only; and, though they come a little in our way, they are not essential to our main subject, which has reference to the early part of life rather than to its close.

The principal errors or prejudices, which raise doubts upon the subject of our total ignorance when we come into the world, and our perfect equality at that moment, are chiefly of an intellectual nature; and, therefore, though they are necessary to a proper understanding of our physical condition, we shall not require to go into them at any length. But they put us wrong in our physical knowledge of Man, by attributing to the mind, as original, certain differences between one man and another, which seem to be in great part acquired, or, if they at all depend on any original differences, then these are differences of the body, not of the mind.

The old absurdity of innate ideas—that is, certain portions of knowledge with which we are born-is now nearly forgotten in its direct form; and, indeed, one wonders why it could ever have been entertained, as one single step in the way of analysis reduces it to one of the most plain and palpable absurdities that can be expressed in words. If these "innate ideas" are to be of any use to us, they must relate to those subjects with which we are to be conversant in life, and surely they would be of the greatest use to us at the very commencement. Thus, an innate idea that fire would burn, or arsenic poison, would be of far