mental consequences. These are classified in three books, and cover one hundred and fifty pages. The fourth part, which is the author's sixth book, presents the results of his discussion in his theory of" the change at death," and the nature and occupations of the future state. We shall not attempt to follow him minutely over all the ground thus traversed in five hundred closely printed pages, but shall confine the discussion chiefly to certain fundamental principles of supernatural agency, and the philosophical tests of the facts alleged in his

narrative.

In discussing the relations of man to the supernatural world and of supernatural agencies to man, it is of the utmost importance to define terms with accuracy, and to lay down the principles of evidence by which the supernatural must be tested. This Mr. Owen attempts to do in his first book. In the first place he distinguishes between the supernatural and the miraculous, and meets Mr. Hume's objection to miracles by rejecting the common notion of a miracle, that it is "a temporary suspension, by special intervention of the Deity, of one or more of the laws which govern the universe." In other words, Mr. Owen does not believe that a miracle, in the common understanding of the term, has ever occurred; but regards the phenomena called miracles as ultra-mundane events projected into the sphere of our world by some law of the spiritual world, which first manifests itself to our apprehension through these phenomena. And, secondly, he distinguishes between the supernatural and the ultra-mundane; or rather, if we understand him, he rejects entirely the idea of the supernatural, in any proper sense of that term, and believes simply in "appearances or agencies of an ultra-mundane character." After alleging that "Spiritual agency, if such there be, is not miraculous," he affirms that its phenomena "are as much the result of natural law as is a rainbow or a thunder-clap ;" and that "believers in their existence should cease to attach to them any inkling of the supernatural."* Again, he says, that "if the Deity is now per

* p. 88.

mitting communication between mortal creatures in this stage of existence and disembodied spirits in another, He is employing natural causes and general laws to effect his object; not resorting for that purpose to the occasional and the miraculous."* To provide for such phenomena, Mr. Owen argues that "there may be laws not yet in operation," and, also, "change-bearing laws," or "laws self-adapted to a changeful state of things." His reply to Hume's sophism with regard to human testimony is in some points admirable; but when he goes to the extent of making almost any alleged marvel credible by the supposition that it is not supernatural but only some new phase of universal law, Mr. Owen as really denies the miracles of the Bible and their testimony to a Divine Revelation, as does Mr. Hume himself. Mr. Hume rejects the miracle as un-natural; Mr. Owen sinks it in the merely natural. Our discussion at the outset, therefore, concerns the fact of the Supernatural, and the nature and characteristics of a miracle.

We hold that nothing is more natural to man than a belief in the Supernatural. Hardly does the soul awake to consciousness, when it begins to question itself as to its possible relations to a spiritual world. And deep and earnest are those questionings, even in the rudest minds. The thinking essence within us, the conscious ego, early learns to distinguish itself from the body through which, and the material objects upon which, it acts. Finding in its own properties the proof of a substance distinct from matter, it argues the existence of a spiritual Power superior to matter, the Author of the material universe and its laws. Knowing that its own existence is not self-derived, but is proof of a superior Power, it knows also that that Power must be Spiritual. Paul reasoned thus with the Athenians, from their own philosophy. "Certain of your own poets have said, We are also his offspring. Forasmuch then as we are the offspring of God, we ought not to think that the Godhead is like to gold or silver, or stone, graven by art and man's device." In an important sense it is true

that "

we can know God only as we know ourselves;"* that is, "it is only through some general analogy of the human with the Divine nature that we come to even an approximate conception of the Deity. "It is the knowledge which we have of ourselves, as spiritual beings, which suggests the idea of God, who is a Spirit."+ But this conception the soul gives as one of the first results of the analysis of its own existence, properties, and powers. Hence the idea of a supernatural being or power is developed in all minds; and theology-the doctrine of God-is almost the first form of all literature.

Beyond this partly intuitive and partly inferential conviction by which the soul is inspired with a belief in the exist ence of something above the sphere of itself and of the world of matter, Imagination is at play in the sphere of the invisible, peopling that with spiritual existences and powers, and clothing with a supernatural character those natural phenomena which reason cannot explain. Thus in the ruder ages of the world, and in the primitive stage of any people, the wind, the forest, the stream, the thunder, the stars, and all unusual phenomena become voices of invisible spirits to the soul of man. As the child loves to personify inanimate objects-as a doll or a toyso the mind of the race, in its infancy, affected by external appearances; conversing mainly with the outward world, many of whose phenomena are mysteries; "mistaking physical effects for independent or voluntary powers;" supposing that everything in nature must possess some principle of life like that in man; "ascribes every unusual appearance or agency to a distinct being or power operating directly or immediately in that event." Hence the general belief of the ancients in demons, in good and evil spirits encompassing the earth, producing events beyond the power of man, influencing the minds of men, and guiding their destinies for good or evil, holding direct intercourse with men, and officiating as

* Hamilton.

McCosh, Intuitions, p. 435.

See this illustrated in Eschenburg's Manual of Classical Literature, (Fiske,) p. 84, seq.

messengers between men and the gods-in a word, directing and controlling all the unexplainable events and forces in

nature.

But this belief, though more prominent in the infancy of a people than in an advanced stage of intellectual culture, is by no means confined to ignorant minds. Socrates believed that his genius, or demon-a supernatural being having him in special charge-prescribed for him his lot, whether pleasant or adverse, and told him what to do and what not to do.

Germanicus, as Tacitus narrates, was bewitched by means of images and billets on the wall, into the idea that he was doomed to die, and under that fatal impression expired in agony. Even the exhumed remains of human bodies seemed to haunt his chamber with presages of a doomed soul.* Thus a general, distinguished alike for his valor on the field and his calm and equable temper in private affairs, was vanquished by the images of his own fancy. Lord Bacon shared in superstitious fantasies which his philosophy could not explain.

This power of the Imagination to vivify the belief in supernatural agency, is seen also in the phenomena of dreams. Mr. Owen regards these as of so much importance to his argument for ultra-mundane interference, that he occupies nearly a hundred pages of his book with the mere narration of remarkable dreams, from which he does not even attempt to draw a philosophical conclusion. He implies, however, that the Biblical doctrine that "in the visions of the night men occasionally receive more than is taught them throughout all the waking vigilance of the day," is verified by the experience of modern dreams. Nothing is more common in that experience than incongruous combinations of material forms and substances; and also the sensation of being uplifted, as it were, from the body, and of performing acts such as flying, which are impossible in the flesh. Indeed, in sleep the mind seems often to come into direct contact with the spirits of the absent or the departed. Virgil's "two gates of sleep" still open in our dreams-"true visions" flying heav

*Tac. Annals, ii, 69, 70.

enward, while the "infernal gods" send false dreams into the soul, through "a shining portal of ivory."* The Egyptians regarded dreams with a religious reverence, as communications from the gods. Even Bishop Taylor refers some dreams to demons, good or bad. And every one has felt at times a strange power over his nervous system, proceeding from his last night's dream, or has marked some coincidence as its fulfillment.

"This trow I, and say for me,
That dremes significance be

Of good and harm to many wights
That dreme in their sleep o'nights

Full many things covertly,

That fall after all openly."-CHAUCER.

Of the same class are mysterious mental suggestions or forebodings, and sudden coincidences of events with our thoughts, our wishes or our fears; as when while thinking of an absent friend one suddenly meets him; or while unaccountably troubled on his behalf receives news of some catastrophe to him. These occurrences, so frequent in our experience, give to the imagination a wide sphere of activity in the spirit world, and foster in many a belief in a supernatural agency concerning the minutest affairs of life.

The death of a friend sometimes clothes these impressions of the supernatural with a living presence and power. When a loved one has passed into the invisible, the heart's affections torn out by the roots, like the tendrils of plants that live on air, shoot forth eagerly upon every side, that they may imbibe some exhalation from that spirit world, and fasten themselves again upon the now impalpable object of earthly love. In such a frame the mind becomes in a measure lost to the material world around it, and absorbed in that spiritual world to which its dearest hopes and affections have been transferred. Tennyson, in his matchless lament for his lost friend, gives utterance to the cherished thought of grief, that the lost one is still nigh.

Eneid, vi, 895.