the Sensory nerves, and of the motor nerves which answer to them, grows up, as it were, in ourselves. We will take this illustration: Certain things are originally instinctive, the tendency to them is born with us; but in a very large number of things we educate ourselves, or we are educated. Take, for instance, the guidance of the class of movements I was speaking of just now—our movements of locomotion. We find that when we set off in the morning with the intention of going to our place of employment, not only do our legs move without our consciousness, if we are attending to something entirely different, but we guide ourselves in our walk through the streets; we do not run up against anybody we meet; we do not strike ourselves against the lamp-posts; and we take the appropriate turns which are habitual to us. It has often happened to myself, and I dare say it has happened to every one of you, that you have intended, to go somewhere else—that when you started you intended instead of going in the direct line to which you were daily accustomed, to go a little out of your way to perform some little commission; but you have got into a train of thought and forgotten yourself, and you find that you are half-way along your accustomed track before you become aware of it. Now, there, you see, is the same automatic action of these sensory ganglia—we see, we hear—for instance, we hear the rumbling of the carriages, and we avoid them without thinking of it—our muscles act in respondence to these sights and sounds—and yet all this is done without our intentional direction—they do it for us. Here again, then, we have the "secondarily automatic" action of this power, that of a higher nervous apparatus which has grown, so to speak, to the mode in which it is habitually exercised. Now, that is a most important consideration. It has grown to the mode in which it is habitually exercised; and that principle, as we shall see, we shall carry into the higher class of Mental operations.
But there is one particular kind of this action of the Sensory nerves to which I would direct your attention, because it leads us to another very important principle. You are all, I suppose, acquainted with the action of the stereoscope; though you may not all know that its peculiar action, the perception of solidity it conveys to us, depends upon the combination of two dissimilar pictures—the two dissimilar pictures which we should receive by our two eyes of an object if it were actually placed before us. If I hold up this jug, for instance, before my eyes, straight before the centre of my face, my two eyes receive pictures which are really dissimilar. If I made two drawings of the jug, first as I see it with one eye, and then with the other, I should represent this object differently. For instance, as seen with the right eye, I see no space between the handle and the body of the jug; as I see it with the left eye, I see a space there. If I were to make two drawings of that jug as I now see it with my two eyes, and put them into a stereoscope, they would bring out, even if only in outline, the
