centre that issues the mandate, so to speak, through the motor nerves to the muscles concerned in coughing, which actions have to be united in a very remarkable manner, which I cannot stop to analyze; but the whole action of coughing has for its effect the driving out a violent blast of air, which tends to expel the offending substance. Thus, when any thing "goes the wrong way," as we term it—a crumb of bread, or a drop of water finding its way into the windpipe, then this sudden and violent blast of air tends to expel it.
Now, these are examples of what we call "reflex action;" and this is the character of most of the movements that are immediately concerned with the maintenance of the vital functions. I might analyze other cases. The act of 'breathing' is a purely reflex action, and goes on when we are perfectly unconscious of exerting any effort, and when our attention is entirely given up to some act or thought; and even when asleep the act of breathing goes on with perfect regularity, and, if it were to stop, of course the stoppage would have a fatal effect upon our lives. But most of these reflex actions are to a certain degree placed under the control of our Will. If it were not for this controlling power of will, I could not be addressing you at this moment. I am able so to regulate my breath as to make it subservient to the act of speech; but that is the case only to a certain point. I could not go on through a long sentence without taking my breath. I am obliged to renew the breath frequently, in order to be able to sustain the circulation and other functions of life. But still I have that degree of control over the act of respiration, that I can regulate this drawing in and expulsion of the breath for the purposes of speech. This may give you an idea of the way in which Mental operations may be independent of the Will, and yet be under its direction. To this we shall presently come.
Now, those reflex actions of the spinal cord, which are immediately and essentially necessary to the maintenance of our lives, take place from the commencement without any training, without any education; they are what we call "instinctive actions;" the tendency to them is part of our nature; it is born with us. But, on the other hand, there are a great many actions which we learn, to which we are trained in the process of bodily education, so to speak, and which, when we have learned them, come to be performed as frequently, regularly, methodically, and unconsciously, as those of which I have spoken. This is the case particularly with the act of walking. You all know with how much difficulty a child is trained to that action. It has to be learned by a long and painful experience, for the child usually gets a good many tumbles in the course of that part of its education; but, when once acquired, it is as natural as the act of breathing, only it is more directly under the control of the will; yet so completely automatic does it become, that we frequently execute a long series of these movements without any consciousness whatever. You start in the morning,
