scientifically, (and we are not writing for medical students,— we send them to other works,) nervous diseases will be seen to be divisible into three very general classes. Some of the nerves are exquisitely sensitive: these may be so diseased as to occasion the most acute pain. The nerves of the face are sometimes thus diseased. This is the tic douloureux. A person suffering from it once described what he felt, by saying to us, very significantly, "It is as if I had a fine net-work of burning pain over my cheek." Secondly, That end of the nervous system connected directly with the organ of sense may be out of order; from which, disordered or prevented sensation will follow. Thirdly, That end of the nerve which is connected with its source, or the source itself, may be disordered. When this is the case with the brain, the disease will assume many of the characters of mental disorder. But, in any case, nervous disorder is as real a disorder as rheumatism or gout, or any other of the diseases to which the human frame is liable.

The

We have spoken of the nervous system as that which connects man with the external world. Still speaking popularly, we should perhaps go farther, and say that it connects the living soul not only with the external world, but with the body itself. We not only, for instance, perceive objects by means of the nerves, but we are made conscious of various circumstances connected with our own body. mind, also, governs the body by means of the nerves. Motion is performed by the muscles; but these muscles would not move at our will, were it not for certain nerves connected with them, and through which, speaking figuratively, the mind sends its orders. Let the nervous connexion between the brain and any particular muscle be cut off, and the mind is no longer able to govern its motions.

And here let the reader be content with the knowledge of the fact. He cannot go beyond it. How volition is conveyed through a nerve to a muscle, or how a sensation is conveyed from an organ of sense, through the proper nerve, to the brain, and so to the mind, no answer can be given but the fact that so it is. There have been various theories on the subject, by some of which language is still influenced. One

of them supposes the existence of a subtle fluid in the nerve. Cases in which this was plentiful, healthy, and active, were described as cases of high animal spirits; or, on the contrary, of low spirits. Others have taken up the theory of vibrations; as when one end of a tolerably tight string is moved, the motion will run to the other end. Latterly, many have supposed that what is called the electric fluid had something to do in the matter. And some facts give to this theory what the others do not possess,- —a degree of plausibility. The gymnotus, or electrical eel, proves that a living body may be a sort of electrical machine. Then the application of galvanism to bodies recently dead, causing even violent motions in different limbs, proves that this particular stimulus operates in a way something like that in which the nerve acts in the living body in the case of voluntary motion. The sudden starts which most persons have felt just while dropping to sleep, have what greatly resembles an electrical character. And the almost indescribable uneasiness which many feel just before a thunder-storm, when the air is in a highly electric state, points to a similar conclusion. But here, as in many other portions of physical science, we can only carry our inquiries to a certain point. We come to what are to us ultimate facts. What else is what is called attraction, or gravitation? The facts which the words denote we know: the mode of operation we do not know. So as to the nerves. They connect the mind with the body, and the whole man with the outer world. This we know, but beyond this we cannot go. We can examine the facts and laws of sensation: its immediate causes are beyond our reach.

There are two classes of nervous operations (one of them has been already mentioned) which do not come within the object proposed in these papers. There are those which have been termed motory;-and the researches of the late Sir Charles Bell have established the important fact, that there are different nerves for motion and sensation,—the motory ones and the sensiferous ones. We may observe, however, that many wonders are connected with the former. What a precise command of the muscles of motion the mind evidently possesses in certain cases: suppose those of rope-dancers,

persons throwing a stone from a sling to hit an object at a certain distance, throwing a dart or spear, or leaping over an object, or across any space, or putting forth the proper degree of strength to lift a certain weight. But we can only allude to these, without dwelling on them. Then, secondly, there are what have been termed negative sensations, in which there is evidently nervous irritation, but not connected with consciousness. Physiologists have mentioned cases of deep apoplexy, in which there was no consciousness whatever, and yet, tickling the soles of the feet has produced evident contraction. And an eminent modern physician has mentioned the case of a young lady labouring under spinal disease, in whom the same cause produced a similar effect; but while there was contraction of the leg, she herself, though knowing what was going on, was not at all aware of it through the usual channel of consciousness. But this is only in keeping with many other parts of the animal system. How much is continually going on of which we are utterly unconscious: the streaming of the blood, for instance, forth from the heart, through all the arteries, and through all the veins, back again to the heart; or the numerous secretions in every part of the system, and just such a secretion in each part as that part requires,-saliva is secreted from the blood in the mouth, tears in the eyes, bile in the liver. It might be expected, therefore, that there should be nervous operations of which we are not at all conscious. But our present object is to notice those of which we are aware. And these, still speaking very generally, may now be divided into two classes,—sensation, simply as connected with consciousness, and which is commonly called feeling; and those peculiar sensations which require for their production the intervention of certain organs framed for that purpose, and which only transmit certain particular impressions. In the first class, we have sensation generally, considered as physical consciousness; in the second, we have sensation specifically, conveyed through the organs of sense, as seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching; the "five senses," as they are commonly termed.

SKETCH OF THE REIGN OF EDWARD III.

[A JUVENILE Correspondent has sent us the following sketch, (or rather, compilation,) and we insert it, not exactly because such pieces "fall within the plan of the 'Instructer,' but because it affords an example of what might be a useful task for young students in history; namely, to form for themselves brief sketches of particular periods, whether single reigns, or otherwise. Such sketches ought not to be a collection of paragraphs from other writers, but, as far as possible, the result of the reader's own conception of the period, after perusing its history several times over. The habit of writing such abridgments, in their own language, would be very useful to them.-ED. Y. I.]

EDWARD III. ascended the throne of England January 25th, 1327, in the fifteenth year of his age. He was the eldest son of Edward II., and Isabella, of France. His reign, for the military achievements to which it gave birth, is one of the most brilliant that occurs in the English annals.

In 1337 was commenced that bloody and destructive war with France, which raged, with little intermission, for upwards of a century. Like Louis XIV., of France, whose history in many respects resembles that of Edward, he owed much of his success in military operations to the courage and ability of his Generals. His son Edward, the Black Prince, was no less distinguished by his military skill and valour, than by his humanity to the vanquished. The splendid victories of Cressy and Poictiers were won chiefly by his prudence and intrepidity. In the year 1357, the court of England numbered in the train of its attendants, two captive Monarchs,—John, King of France, and David Bruce, King of Scotland. The former was taken prisoner at the battle of Poictiers, and the latter at the battle of Nevill's Cross, near Durham.

The concluding portion of the reign of Edward was crowded with reverses and disappointments. Charles the Wise, King of France, gradually wrested from him all his ancient possessions in that country, with the exception of Bourdeaux and Bayonne. His son Edward died of a linger

ing disease in 1376. The unhappy King seems, indeed, to have outlived the affection of his people: he was deserted by his courtiers, even by those who had been exalted by his kindness; and no one, save a single Priest, was by his bedside when he breathed his last. He died in 1377, in the sixty-fifth year of his age, and the fifty-first of his reign.

Edward had a numerous family by his Queen Philippa, of Hainault. She died in 1369.

Edward's war with France, which was founded on an unjust claim to the crown of that kingdom, was productive of much misery to both nations; and this was increased, in 1349, by the breaking out of a dreadful pestilence. This terrible visitant which had already almost desolated Asia and Africa, raged with such violence in London, that in the space of one year, there were buried in the Charter-House church-yard above fifty thousand persons. The King's military expeditions had, however, the effect of controlling the turbulent spirits of the English Barons, by finding them employment abroad; and also of making the English name respected throughout Europe.

English liberty, which had taken root in the preceding reigns, acquired considerable vigour in this. The English language also began to be cultivated; and the poetry of Chaucer, who flourished during this period, will continue to be read, so long as a taste for real poetry exists. Towards the end of this reign, that great man, John Wickliffe, began boldly to oppose the pernicious errors of Popery; and to question principles and practices which had passed current amongst his countrymen for ages. He must have possessed a mind of no ordinary capacity, vigour, and courage, to be willing to assail a power which had made the boldest Princes in Europe tremble. But he was an instrument in the hands of the God of heaven and earth, to prepare the way for a great and glorious reformation in the minds and practices of men.

The history of Edward III. furnishes a useful moral lesson. Like every other human being, he sought for happiness; but he pursued it in a wrong direction. He sought it in military glory; and this he certainly acquired; but whilst it made