

KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 
139 
a le oe ti a I ln CSO ee 
lift up the loathsome mask, and see the un- 
natural spectre it conceals ? When will they 
learn to believe that what the Almighty has 
pronounced very good —REALLY IS 80? 
Tottenham, Sep.15. Bombyx ATLAS. 
[Some people may think that a little exci- 
sion should have been practised with an 
article of this description, with a view to 
modify the sentiments of the writer, and so 
render them more palateable. There is 
however such a heartiness, such a freshness 
about it—and the worthy veteran writes in 
so wholesome a strain, that he shall be heard 
in his manly appeal to common sense and 
common humanity. He has lived long in 
the world, and can afford to speak his honest 
sentiments. We are proud to echo them.] 
THE RAINBOW. 

Iris! what art thou? Break Creation’s silence, 
Send forth a voice, thou “ million-colored bow ;” 
Let fiction be no longer man’s reliance ; 
More of thy nature he desires to know. 
Art thou a goddess, dwelling in Elysium, 
Whose power, so vast, no mortal dare deny 
The soul consigning to some unknown region, 
Sole arbitress of human destiny ? 
Art thou a mirror in the sun’s pavilion, 
Tenfold reflecting all his glories bright, 
Glittering with purple, orange, and vermillion,— 
Or shinest thou with thy unaided light? 
"Twas eventide! The majestic bow was gilding 
The cloudy temple of the weeping sky ; 
Arch of Creation’s wide palatial building, 
Most wondrous work of God’s geometry ! 
Whilst thus I mused, methought the breeze came, 
bringing 
A whisper soft from Iris’ golden throne ; 
Like to the strains of seraph minstrel’s singing, 
Or Heavenly harpings of A®olian tone. 
“ Dost thou inquire why my illumined crescent 
Gleameth so brightly in the Heavens o’erhead ? 
Mortal, to cheer thine oft-beclouded present, 
And paint thy future, is my radiance shed 
“Upon thy path. Art thou a stricken spirit, 
With many cares and many woes oppressed ? 
A struggling genius, born but to inherit, 
Like all thy fellows, mischance and unrest? 
‘* Art thou a mourner, weeping and heart-broken, 
Because thy best-loved treasures are no more ?— 
To each, to all, I am the faithful token, 
There yet is hope and happiness in store. 
“‘T am the mystic over-arching portal— 
Resplendent entrance to a better land; 
Where peace is perfect, happiness immortal, 
And faith to full fruition doth expand.” 
Fainter and fainter, like the distant pealing 
Of silver chimes, th’ Aolian whisper grew. 
It softly ceased ; no cloud was then concealing 
Heaven’s firmament of clear ethereal blue. 
R. W. Carpenter. 

DISTINCTIONS AND DIFFERENCES, 
INSTINCT AND REASON. 

THE EXTREME difficulty of coming to 
any settled decision, as to where “ instinct ”’ 
terminates and “ reason” begins, sets all the 
world upon speculation. But after all, there 
is nothing like careful, pains-taking investi- 
gation. Those who narrowly watch the 
habits of the so-called “lower creation,” 
and compare them with the habits of man- 
kind, will find that there is not only a dis- 
tinction, but a very great difference. We 
shall venture on this delicate inquiry more 
at large in due season, as promised. Mean- 
time, we shall bring into view all that 
strikes us as being worthy of note, in con- 
nection with the general question. 
Who is there, says a contemporary,* that 
has not admired the wonderful precocity of 
chickens, ducks, partridges, and other little 
creatures whose wisdom on the very first 
day of their existence appears to equal, if 
it does not surpass, many of the finest efforts 
of elaborate reason? The knowledge which 
they seem to possess of the world into 
which they have just been introduced, of 
the food which is agreeable to their palates 
and suitable to their digestive organs, their 
fear of danger, and their confidence of 
security in circumstances of which they can 
have no experience, the facility with which 
they use their legs and:their beaks, walk and 
run, eat and drink—a facility which reason 
itself could not equal—are quite unin- 
telligible to man, who gains all his knowledge 
by labor and experience, and is but little 
indebted to instinct for anything. 
It has been observed by philosophers who 
have made comparative anatomy their study, 
that the more instinctive an animal is, the 
more ganglionic its nerves are. That is, its 
nerves, instead of arising from, and centering 
in a brain, as the principal nerves of the 
human body do, have their centres distri- 
buted in different parts of the body; in fact, 
such animals may be said, properly speaking, 
not to be possessed of a brain at all, but 
merely of a series of ganglions, or nervous 
centres, arranged along the line of the spine, 
if they have one; or the abdomen, if the 
spine be wanting. But animals possessed of 
a spine or backbone, being always of a higher 
order than those which are not so organised, 
have the brain more fully developed, and the 
nervous system more concentrated therein. 
This concentration of the nervous system 
in a brain increases their intelligence, but it 
diminishes their instinct. From this, it 
appears that reason is the result of the cen- 
tralisation of the nervous system; and 
instinct, of its distribution and division. In 

* The “ Family Herald.” 



