that object exclusively; and thus that a sensation, when it is the object of thought, is never that sensation only, but that what is thought of is always that sensation, and something more. In explanation of this, let us revert to our former illustration. You should now be able to tell me what takes place in your minds when you feel the pain occasioned by the prick of the pin, and what takes place in your minds when you think of that pain. You should now be able to distinguish between thought and sensation. Consider the matter, and you will find that the distinction is this: When you feel the pain, you feel that pain merely, that particular pain, and no other; but when you think that pain, you do not think that pain merely, you think other pains as well; that is, you think any pain of that kind, and even, to some extent, other pain not exactly of that kind. The present pain is merely apprehended as a sample of what may occur again. It is thought of as an instance of pain, which, of course, implies the thought of something more than it. That is undoubtedly the process which your mind performs in thinking, and unless it goes through that process it does not think the pain at all; you merely continue to feel it, but you cannot be said to think it. In thinking the pain, then, your mind travels out of and beyond the particular pain which you are feeling. Your sensation never travels beyond that pain. For instance, in thinking the pain, you think it, or may think it, as affecting me or anybody else; but you do not and
