A CHAPTER ON INSTINCT. 59 



individual of the species; and if in one species, why not in a,nother; why 

 not in every one of the genus to which it belongs, why not in every genus, 

 why not in all; diflferent perhaps indeed in many respects from each other, 

 even as all may be from us; and yet, as in the living principle, so in the 

 mental one, all partaking of one and the same immortality. 



Now, as before briefly mentioned, there are some living creatures whose 

 organization is so imperfect, speaking comparatively, and in the only way 

 in which we can speak of them, that the whole duty of their existence 

 appears to be to live. Doubtless they have their good and valuable use, 

 but in our blindness we cannot trace it. Actions, properly so called, they 

 have none — to discharge the functions of their being is all that they are 

 gifted with the ability to do. They move indeed, attracted to, or repelled 

 from, that which is hurtful or disagreeable to themselves, and this, beyond 

 the power to desire nourishment from whatever suitable matter they may 

 be surrounded by, is all of which they are capable. 



The instances adduced in the following observations I have gathered 

 from difierent sources — "nee mens hie sermo est." The whole subject is a 

 very wonderful and deeply-interesting one. 



Some mosses, as for instance the Club Moss of California, will, after 

 they are actually dead, expand their leaves when moisture is applied to 

 them, and appear as if revivified, although they have no real life within 

 them. Thus, too, the Hair Moss of Lapland, used by the inhabitants of 

 that frozen region for bedding, if it becomes too dry for comfort, is relaxed, 

 as pointed out by Linnaeus, by being moistened. The Hydra, a species 

 of the Polypus tribe, if it be turned inside out, that which was the inside 

 assumes the part which the original outside had previously possessed, and 

 the new inside conveys the like nourishment to the other which it had pre- 

 viously received from it. The common snail will remain torpid until 

 moisture in the weather calls it forth to active movement, and at such 

 times you will also see the frog and the toad unusually alert. They 

 remain in some degree sluggish and insensible until the dew from Heaven, 

 which re-invigorates them, is sent; and this their habit will doubtless in 

 some degree explain the fact of their having in so many well-authenticated 

 instances, been found imbedded in airless cavities, for ages and for genera- 

 tions. The like atmospheric changes affect the leach in the glass of water, 

 the fish in the depths of the river or the sea; and even the housemaid, 

 (I quote from a well-known writer,) may philosophize when she sees the cat 

 washing its face; and the herd-boy be led to consider when he observes 

 the hog carrying straw in its mouth, in anticipation of the rain that is 

 about to fall. 



But to return to the lower forms. Some of the molluscous animals — a 

 step higher in the scale of creation — are possessed indeed of nervous portions. 



