one unpleasant topic to another: the faces of lost friends present themselves, they think only of injuries done them, of insults offered them, of misfortunes that have befallen, or they picture coming woes. The endeavor will now be, to be delivered from these associations. To relieve themselves from such pain, some betake themselves to scenes of boisterous mirth, or mad excitement. In the depression that follows a period of excitement, persons are driven to return to their old scenes of folly. It is thus that the afflicted have to leave the scenes where the misfortune occurred; thus that the wife has to abandon the home where her husband was murdered and the youth to forsake the locality where his father disgraced himself; thus that husbands have murdered their wives, to be rid of the memorials of domestic cruelty or of broken

Vows.

CHAPTER III.

THE THIRD ELEMENT OR ASPECT: THE EXCITEMENT WITH ATTACHMENT AND REPUGNANCE.

SECTION I.

THEIR GENERAL NATURE.

WE have seen that as the reservoir of all emotion there is an affection or an appetence, and that the waters flow out in a channel supplied by the idea. Let us now view the inward impulse as actually bursting forth. The soul is now to a greater or less extent in a moved or excited state. There is a current, smooth, leaping, or troubled, moving on with more or less rapidity. There is more than excitement; there is a feeling of pleasure in, or aversion to, the object of which we have an idea, and which is supposed to gratify, or thwart, the motive power of the mind. When the object is contemplated as good, or as bringing good, that is as appetible, we are drawn towards it, we feel an attachment to it; there is a glow of heart, a pleasurable elevation, and we feel attracted towards that which interests us. On the other hand, when it is regarded as evil, or about to bring evil, there is also an excitement, but it is painful excitement, chafing and irritating the spirit, and we draw away from the object, or we drive it away from us. There is an inclination towards the object in all those emotions which contemplate the desirable, such as affection, hope, expectation, and a disinclination towards all things that frustrate our wishes, in fear, anger, disappointment.

It is when it thus bursts out that the affection falls under the eye of consciousness. We are not conscious of the appetence, as an appetence, of the swaying motive, which lies deep down in the soul, as the root does in the ground. Just as we do not perceive by the senses the attraction of the moon, but notice it as raising the tides, so we do not discover the power of a motive till it raises a wave of feeling. We become conscious, first, of the idea, and along with this, of the excitement arising from the attractions and repulsions. We feel in a moved, often in an irritated, or agitated, state, and are impelled to action which we may allow or restrain as we will.

The excitement is produced, in the first instance, by the gratification, or disappointment, real or expected, of a motive. But when it has once been enjoyed it may come to be desired for its own sake. Some feel as if they could not live without excitement. Hence they seek out for scenes fitted to produce it. They may search for it in a variety of quarters: some in the theatre, some in novel reading, some in the dance, some in hunting or traveling, some in the competitions of trade or ambition, some by resorting to wine or other bodily stimulants. Kept within proper bounds, and when directed to proper objects, this love of stimulus may be allowed; it adds to our enjoyment and it may dispel lassitude, torpor, and ennui, and promote habits of activity and enterprise. On the other hand, when directed to wrong ends, or when carried to excess, even in cases in which the employments are lawful, the taste may be very injurious, wasting the time of youth when knowledge and habits of virtue should be acquired; and when declining life arrives, appearing in an unseemly and ridiculous frivolity, or issuing in discontent and restlessness. The repulsions are as powerful, often as peculiar, as

the attractions. As men and women have personal affections and predilections, so they have also prejudices and antipathies, often bitter and incurable. They avoid certain places, persons, and societies; they shrink from certain pursuits and proposals; they cherish envy, malignity, revenge, because afraid of their pride being humbled, and their favorite ends being thwarted. Some have doubted whether the malignant passions, or the benevolent, have stirred up the larger amount of activity in our world. Even as courage impels some to fight against threatened evil, so cowardice prompts others to make great exertion to avoid it. If duty has, like the bee, its sweets, it also has its stings, and many are thereby kept from pursuing it. On the other hand, the hatred of evil in a world where sin is so prevalent, and has wrought such mischief, has called forth an incalculable amount of energy in noble minds, and kept our world from becoming an offensive and intolerable lazar-house.

The inappetible may be of two sorts. It may be the disappointment of a strong impulse, say ambition, or love. This is one sense negative; it arises from the absence of an object, but of an object for which there may still be a craving felt to be painful, because it cannot be gratified. But in other cases there may be a positive aversion to a certain end or object, to certain places, or persons, or animals. These two forms are closely related and run into each other. Take revenge: a favorite scheme has been interfered with, and we take up an antipathy to the person who has thwarted us. The sensation is a mixed one. There is gratification in indulging the appetence, but the gratification is painful as looking to evil and not to good. There is a pleasure in wreaking vengeance, but it is counteracted by pain. How different from the gratification of benevolence,

which is blessed in the exercise, and blessed in the beneficent result.

We can now understand the nature of that restlessness to which we are all liable, and which some seem to labor under perpetually. It arises from a variety of inconsistent impulses moving us at the same time, or, more frequently, from a succession of alternating hopes and disappointments. We see it in the vain man, when both praise and abuse are heaped upon him; in the ambitious man, now vaulting high and again thrown back; in the youth waiting the award of the judge in a competition, and the lover, now rejoicing in the sunshine, and now languishing in the shade. These feelings are promoted by a nervous temperament, and almost always lead to nervousness. In all cases there are active molecular attractions and repulsions which raise a distressingly heated atmosphere.

We see how "hope deferred maketh the heart sick." The heir feels it when the owner of the property lives so long. The adventurer feels it when the long planned scheme does not succeed. The maiden feels it oppressively when the long expected proposal of her lover is not made. Why all this? Because the appetence craves without being gratified; and there arises a discontent with what is occurring because it does not bring the expected good. There is a rumor of the owner of the coveted property dying, followed by his recovery; the prospect of success is darkened by a rising cloud; the wooer calls but goes away without proposing. The continuance may breed a settled depression unwholesome as a pestilential swamp. When it is seen that the object. cannot possibly be gained, the heart becomes sickened by the desire still clamoring like the appetite of hunger when yet there is no food.