We have now to consider the second branch of material life, viz., the related life of the individual. In our last lecture we spoke of the organic existence of the body, when, like a tree in winter, the proper life is undeveloped, concealed within, and it stands bare, and isolated, useless to us; now we would regard it as the same tree putting forth its leaves, fruit, flowers, beautiful to the eye, & shelter from the sun, purifying the sir, and making sweet music in the passing breeze; such is the related life of the body, the instrument of wonderful and beautiful uses.

The object of this related life, is to furnish the soul of man with a fitting instrument for its expression, consequently its range of action must be wide and varied; it must serve as a medium between the ever expanding soul and the infinite universe. The different portions of our bodily frames, which are intended for this high use, are, 1st, the muscular system; 2d, the organs of sense; 8d, the brain. By means of these, our whole external  life is carried on. The soul takes possession of all these organs, and with their help, conquers the material world, penetrates the secrets of Nature, the hidden mysteries of earth and sky; by their help, all the holy relations of the family are formed, and man learns to know and love his fellow-man; through them we explore the wonderful kingdoms of science and art; there is no limit to the treasures of love and wisdom, which they open to us, for it is equally by means of these divine gifts that we raise the first humble cabin in the wilderness, or worship with a whole nation in the lofty temples of the Most High. From the noble use, then, of these faculties of our nature, we should be led to regard them with peculiar interest; but there is one quality which they hold in common, which classes them together, notwithstanding their varied structure and uses, which will add a hundred-fold interest to their study, and make this study an imperative duty; it is the power of education which these faculties possess, a power of indefinite development under our intelligent action, by means of which we may exercise an almost creative power over the child, and impart to it a degree of goodness, beauty, and intelligence, which should  make us tremble at the responsibility placed in our hands.

It is my purpose, then, in this lecture, to dwell in some detail on those organs of the related life of the body, which are particularly connected with the health, the physical well-being of the individual. I wish to show you the position which they occupy in the economy; and what our duty is in relation to their development. I shall commence with that important structure of our body, whose object seems synonymous with life, and whose direct action marks the opening and the closing of our career; we will first consider the muscular system.

The great bulk of the human body is composed of muscle. If you look at the bare skeleton, composed chiefly of hollow bones, you will see how slender an outline of the human form it presents; the clothing of those bones, the closing of the cavities, the formation of the special human outline, is the work of the muscles; the weight of the individual depends chiefly on them. If we could lay aside the protecting layer of skin and fat which envelopes the body, it would make very little difference in its size, we should then see the muscular body, red and well defined, and we should realize more fully how very large a proportion of the body is formed by muscle. It is as you all know the flesh of animals, the lean of meat. Its structure is regular and beautiful; we can form no idea of this structure from the meat which we cut at table, because we cut it across the grain. If we cut an orange in two transversely, that is through the rounded circumference, we can form little idea of its structure; but if we peel it, and split it longitudinally, we then see at a glance the number of parts which compose it, the semi-transparent membrane which incloses each division, the way in which they are united; then if we open one of these divisions we find inside the seed, and the juicy pulp, and even the pulp now, will present quite a different aspect from the transverse section, for we see that it is arranged in little bundles or fibres lying side by side, and that each bundle is itself incased in such a delicate transparent membrane, that it tears and lets out the juice, with every attempt to separate it. Thus by carefully dissecting the orange, we get a totally different idea of its structure, than by simply cutting it through. Now if in the same way, we could peel the human being of his skin rind, we should find the muscles below as well marked as the sections of the orange; each muscle carefully enveloped in its sheath of membrane, and lying across or by the side of other muscles similarly enveloped. There is an immense number of them spread over the body, several hundreds, and they are infinitely varied in shape and size; some so large as to cover the trunk, others almost invisible; they are thick and short, or long and slender, or spread out in a sheet, or branching like pine leaves, according to the object to be attained, and the part where it must be attained. These muscles are mostly in pairs; thus the layers which cover the right arm, correspond to those which cover the left; so with those on the legs, and those which cover the face, neck, and trunk; they are symmetrical throughout the body, most beautifully so, the shape of many of them is exceedingly graceful, and the “line of beauty” is illustrated in no part of the body so perfectly as in the muscles. Now this whole assemblage of muscles, so varied as we have seen, and spreading all over the body, both inside and out, we class together under the term, muscular system. Its grand object is movement. Let us see how this is obtained. When we take hold of a bell-rope and ring the bell, the essentials to this action are, the rope, with its two attachments, one to your hand, the other to the head of the clapper, then the power of making one of these two attachments a fixed point towards which the other shall be drawn, thus pulling down the head of the clapper and striking the bell with the end. Now to move a human leg, the same points are necessary, the rope or long muscle, with its two attachments, one end fastened to the trunk as a fixed point, the other attached to the leg. In order to move the leg, the distance between the two attachments must be diminished, the leg attachment must approach the fixed point at the trunk; in ringing the bell, the distance was shortened by drawing down the arm and rope; but our body would present rather an alarming spectacle, if the muscles should start out in every direction, to pull the limbs from point to point; the shortening of the distance between the two attachments is performed in another way, viz., by the shortening of the muscle itself, by that contractile power which is peculiar to it. If we open the sheath of a muscle, we shall find it composed of bundles of delicate fibres ranged side by side; now each little fibre has the power of shrinking together, the whole muscle shrinks together, swells somewhat in bulk, but shortens in length, and so moves the limb or part to which it is attached. It is not, however, one single muscle which moves a limb; not only are there many other muscles which combine in various degrees to form the different movements of a part, but the various fibres of the same muscle, can also move in various degrees to modify movement; thus the variety of movements that can be produced by the combinations of so large a number of muscles is immense, and the shades of movement may be of the most delicate nature, and infinitely varied. The attachments of the muscles are of a different character from the body of the muscle, particularly where great compactness of movement is requisite, the ends of the muscle then condense into strong white cords which we name tendons; this structure and the method of movement may easily be examined in the wrist of each individual, if there is not much fat below the skin. If we feel the inside of such a wrist, we can slide the skin backwards and forwards over the thick white cords, which lie below and are hard to the touch; these are the tendons of the muscles, and if we trace one of them up the arm, we shall feel it grow larger and softer, till it swells out into a mass of flesh, near the elbow joint. If the skin of the wrist is delicate, we can even see the dark fleshy part of another layer of muscles lying below these white cords. These tendons are attached to different parts of the hand and arm, and we can feel very distinctly their movements changing, according to the part we wish to move. If we lay the thumb of the other hand over these tendons, and move the wrist slowly backwards and forwards, and then keeping the hand steady, move simply the fingers, we shall distinguish the action of totally different muscles; then by steadying the hand and forearm, moving them upon the arm, we find the muscles at the wrist do not come into play at all, the action is produced by muscles placed on other parts of the arm. There is an endless variety of objects to be accomplished by the movements of the human body-force, agility, expression, the various thoughts of the mind have to shape themselves in action. We find in the arrangements of the muscular system, a corresponding variety of method, to accomplish these necessities. Thus to attain what would seem the most difficult triumph of mind over matter, viz., the expression in material substance of the feelings of the heart, of every delicate, noble, or violent sentiment, we find a most beautiful arrangement of the muscles of the face; we have no strong tendons, as in the wrist, where great force has to be exerted in grasping, we find very few attachments to the bones below, but the face is covered by a layer of living contractile muscles, with their fibres arranged in every possible direction, circular, direct, oblique, running into one another, capable of the utmost mobility, and instantaneous response to the slightest change of feeling; our faces were never intended as masks to our souls, but every provision is present, to render them the faithful image of every changing sentiment.

Now, constituting, as the muscles do, the great bulk of the body, they must necessarily require an immense supply of blood, and consequently the largest vessels branch off in every direction to supply the necessary nourishment; and these vessels do not branch off at right angles, as they do to many of the organs of the body, but the fullest and freest communication of blood is secured, by the acute angle which is generally observed in the branching of the muscular blood-vessels. Besides the blood which is called off in such large quantities to the supply of the muscles, there is also an immense supply of nervous influence, to which I must call particular attention, for it has a most important practical bearing. We do not know what the peculiar fluid or essence conveyed by the nerves to all parts of the body may be, for we cannot demonstrate it as we do the blood, by sight or touch; but it is essential to life, penetrates every part of the body, and is more directly under the control of the mind than any other portion of our frame.

This nervous influence has its origin in the brain, the spinal marrow, or the ganglia (which latter are little white masses found in different parts of the body), and is conveyed by white cords into every fibre of the body, producing feeling, movement, in fact life. Now every one knows, that the brain is that mass of gray and white matter contained within the skull, and is the special instrument of the mind, while the spinal marrow is a thick cord, of similar substance, running through the bony tube of the spine. There is no separation between the brain and spinal-marrow; we feel the head moving upon the spine, but there is no division between them at the nape of the neck; they are encased by similar membranes, bathed by similar fluid, and formed of similar substance; the connection between the two must necessarily, then, be very. intimate. The whole substance of the spinal cord is specially devoted to supply the muscular system with nervous influence; large white nerve-cords escape from the spinal marrow along the whole extent of the trunk, and branch off, in finer and finer threads, to every muscle in the body; the largest nerves in the whole body being three-quarters of an inch wide, branch off in this way in the lower part of the trunk, and extend to the many powerful muscles situated at this part of the body, and to the lower extremities. Moreover, that the muscular system may not be isolated from the rest of the body, but that its influence for good or ill may be felt in every organ, branches of these nerves are sent off to each one, although they are specially supplied from another source; but thus the unity is preserved, and the muscles, the organs, and the brain, are intimately linked together. This is not all-a large mass of the brain, the cerebellum, viz., one-seventh of its substance, is also specially devoted to uniting and harmonizing of movements, and thus to the service of the muscular system; thus we see how very large, important, and widely connected, is the supply of nervous influence provided for this portion of our economy.

As every object in nature has its use, and the degree of importance belonging to that use is indicated by the nature of its structure, we see at a glance how highly important to our well-being the use of the muscular system must be, which forms the largest portion of our bodies, which is arranged in the most beautiful and varied way, which is so richly nourished by heart and brain, and which, moreover, is endowed with a special power, which we find in no other part of the body, viz., the power of vital contractility. The direct object of this vast preparation is movement. Each muscle, in order to enjoy its proper life, in order to use the blood and nervous fluid supplied to it, and grow, must move, must contract, and thus employ its powers. We see, then, the necessity of exercise — the prominent place which it must occupy amongst our faculties during the growth of the body.The bare enunciation of this principle, viz., the necessity of exercise, arising from the great law of use, is sufficient to indicate the place which exercise should occupy in our systems of education; but it will strengthen a true view of this subject, if we notice some of the minor uses of exercise, and observe the evils which will arise in various ways to the body, from the neglect to employ the muscular system, from inaction of the body.

First, then, it is intended by nature that a large supply of blood shall go to the muscular system, and I have shown the peculiar provision that is made for this purpose; but if the muscles are in a state of inaction, they will not use this blood; only a small portion of it will be employed for the slow and languid growth of inactive muscles; there will be no demand for blood in that direction, and it will consequently be drawn to other parts in undue quantity; the internal organs will receive more than they need; for these organs, being always active, will attract the blood which the muscles should have used. Now, every organ is intended to receive a certain quantity of fresh arterial blood, which it uses for its own special purposes, and then sends off the refuse venous blood by the veins, to be purified. In every healthy organ there are these three elements well balanced, viz., the arteries bringing blood, the active parts of the organ using it, and the veins carrying off the remainder; but if this healthy balance is destroyed, if the arteries bring too much, or the organ fails to use the supply, or the veins are unable to carry off the useless portion, then the part becomes overloaded or congested; and if that state continue, mischief will follow. Now, it is this state of congestion which will arise in the internal organs, when the muscular system fails to use that portion of blood which is intended for it. The organs may all become congested, or if any one is weaker than the rest, if there is any tendency to disease existing, it is that part which will especially suffer, and disease will inevitably be developed.

2d. Muscular exercise aids the circulation of the blood, and particularly the return of the venous blood.

You know that each beat of the heart gives an impulse to the arterial blood, and sends it on its journey through the body, while the elastic arteries, contracting upon the blood when the heart’s beat is over, continue that impulse, and urge the blood on into the finest channels which it has to reach; but there is no beating heart to send back the venous blood, which has to be brought from every part of the body; there are no elastic vessels to press it on, for the veins are not formed of the same substance as the arteries. A variety of other circumstances are necessary, to aid the returning blood in its journey to the heart, and amongst these, a very important one is the contraction of the muscular system, which, extending as we have seen all over the body, both inside and out, will powerfully aid in exciting the activity of the veins, and pressing on the returning blood; while inactivity of the muscular system is sure to produce stagnation of the blood, or venous congestion, and aid the morbid condition to which we have alluded above.

3d. Animal heat and electricity are produced by muscular contraction. I do not allude to the heat produced by nutrition, for you all probably know that the change of blood into flesh, which is constantly occurring in the nutrition of every part of our body, produces heat by that chemical change, just as heat is produced when you bring water into contact with lime. But besides this heat of nutrition, there is a special development of heat, with currents of electricity, that can be definitely measured during muscular exercise. This has been ascertained in the powerful contraction of the large muscles of a man’s arm, which contraction produces an electric current, which powerfully affects a magnetic needle, suspended near the arm; and though we have not yet been able to measure the amount of heat and electricity produced in the human body by the contraction of all its muscles, we know that it must be very great, and this subject becomes constantly more interesting and important, from the curious phenomena which science is every day tracing to human electricity.

4th. I have spoken of the important influence of exercise on the circulation of the blood — I wish now to call your attention to its marked effect on the nervous ­system, and I might explain the evils which arise from neglected exercise, by the term nervous congestion, if we were warranted in regarding the nervous influence as a fluid circulating in the same way as the blood; but though there are strong analogies between the two systems, I should not be justified in using the term nervous congestion, although it would explain from analogy the evil which I wish to point out. Let me therefore refer you again to the anatomical arrangement of the nervous system, that you may clearly understand this very important point. There is a certain amount of nerve force in every individual which is essential to life; this force is generated in the three centres, the brain, the spinal cord, the ganglia, just as the blood is generated by the stomach and its connected apparatus, and the lungs; the brain is the nervous centre for the mind, the spinal marrow is the centre for the muscles, and the ganglia form the nervous centre for the organs. Now each centre has thus its appropriate objects to which its nervous force must be distributed, but if the parts which should be supplied are not called into exercise, there will be an excess of nervous force in other parts, the healthy balance will be lost, and a diseased nervous system will be the consequence. We have seen the very large portion of the nervous system which is appropriated to the muscles — the great number of nerves which are distributed all over the body, from the whole length of the spinal cord — these nerves are nerves of motion, and nerves of sensation; if the muscles remain inactive the motor nerves of course remain so too; here then the first balance is destroyed, the sensitive life attains an undue power over the active motor life, the body becomes the prey of morbid sensations, of an unnatural vivacity of impressions, which mark the irritability of this unbalanced exercise of the sensitive nerves. Again, the inactivity of the muscular system not calling into exercise the whole nervous force of the spinal marrow, the mind which is always active will call the brain into undue activity; this evil will be increased by the application of stimulants to the mind, which will still further draw off the nervous influence to this centre and produce a premature mental development — nor is this all. The ganglia, the sympathetic nervous system, under whose influence the organs of the body grow and live, will share the undue activity imparted to the other centres by the inaction of the muscular system. The generative organs, which are governed by the ganglia, and intimately connected with the mind, will suffer from the lost balance of the nervous system; they should be the last and slowest growth of the body ­— but they will thus suffer, equally with the mind, a premature development, and the weakness which is the inevitable consequence. Here then are three great evils arising from the loss of nervous balance, produced by the inactivity of the muscular system — the undue exaltation of the sensitive life of the individual, and the premature development of the mind, and of the generative system.

5th. The tone of the whole body is lost by inaction. By the expression, tone of any part, we mean that natural healthy vigor, which is shown in the muscles by their perfect contraction; in the organs, by their steady normal performance of their functions; it can easily be understood, by contrasting the firm flesh of a healthy child, with the soft, flabby muscles of one weakened by disease. Now this tone is lost in every part of the body, by continued inaction of the muscular system, for there exists not only nervous connection between the muscles and the organs, but direct sympathy of structure — there is scarcely any organ of the body where muscular fibre is not found. The heart is a muscle of immense power; the stomach and whole length of the intestines possess a strong layer of muscular fibre; it enters into the structure of the mass of blood-vessels. The uterus is an organ of tremendous muscular force, and muscular fibre enters into every part of the generative system. Now though there are differences in the structure of this organic muscular fibre, and the fibre of voluntary life, which we are specially considering, yet it possesses every where the same essential character; it is contractile muscular fibre, and consequently the organs throughout the body are connected by sympathy of texture, with the wide-spread muscular system; and if the tone of the muscles is destroyed, if they are weak, relaxed, unfit for duty — the tone of all the organs will be destroyed in corresponding degree. Thus from the neglect of exercise during youth, we have this formidable result to the body, a weakness of the whole muscular system. Now the time would fail me to trace out all the bodily evils, all the diseases that inevitably spring from this condition of weakness. The crooked spines and distorted pelves, with other vices of growth, may be directly traced to it, and its injurious influence on the functions of adult life, I shall soon have occasion to dwell upon.

Let me recapitulate the special evils which will thus arise to the whole material frame when the muscular system is not called into exercise, and developed as its structure and important functions demand. I have called your attention, 1st. To the congestion of the various organs, and consequent impairment of their functions. 2d. To the stagnation of the venous circulation, from the absence of muscular stimulus. 3d. To the deficiency of heat and electricity, which are produced by muscular contraction. 4th. To the irritability and undue excitement of the nervous system, which must arise when the motor nerves are not called into action. 5th. To the loss of tone in the whole body, from the weakness of the muscular system. Now, all these evils, more and more formidable as they will seem, the more you reflect upon them in detail, are still minor evils, because they do not refer to the great object of the muscular system, which is to furnish a varied and powerful instrument for the expression of the soul.

We need muscles that are strong and prompt to do our will, that can run and walk in doors and out of doors, and convey us from place to place, as duty or pleasure calls us, not only without fatigue, but with the feeling of cheerful energy; we need strong arms that can cradle a healthy child, and toss it crowing in the air, and backs that will not break under the burden of household cares, a frame that is not exhausted and weakened by the round of daily duties. We want faces that can smile and light up with every noble sentiment, and not be rigidly set to vacancy, or wrinkled by care, faces that will greet the stranger with a welcome that he can feel; that will show to the loved ones the rich affections of the heart; that can lighten with indignation, or glow with honest approbation: we need faces that know how to move and express true feelings, instead of remaining like an icy barrier, through which the warm feelings of the heart strive in vain to break. We need developed muscles that shall make the human body really a divine image, a perfect form rendering all dress graceful, and not requiring to be patched and filled up and weighed down with clumsy contrivances for hiding its deformities. Bodies that can move in dignity, in grace, in airy lightness, or conscious strength, bodies erect and firm, energetic and active —  bodies that are truly sovereign in their presence, the expressions of a sovereign nature. Such are the bodies that we need, prompt to do and to feel, truly our own.

And such nature intends us to have. In order to give us so perfect and beautiful an instrument, the muscular frame was constructed, so rich in every way, so obedient to the mind. Exercise, then, the means by which the muscular system may be developed, assumes its true position, as of primary importance during the period of youth. It is the grand necessity which every thing else should aid. We have seen how the organic involuntary life needs our aid but indirectly, but this education of exercise is immediately under our control, and demands imperatively our direction. Let us consider what we have to do in this important matter.

The young infant is almost withdrawn from our control. Nature says to us, “stand by, and watch my work!” This delicate life will admit of no trifling, no neglect, no experiment; but watch the infant how it kicks, and cries, and works, not arms and legs alone, but every part of its body in pain or pleasure. We sit and smile, or silently weep; but the baby puts every muscle in motion; if it is pained or angry, it will scream with its whole life, and contract every little fibre, and strain and wriggle in infantile rage, to the intense alarm of its mother. We may leave it to nature for exercise; it will be well attended to, and carried through an efficient course, reaching every muscle of the body, that we should find difficult to imitate by art. Watch the little child too, that has learned to walk and prattle; the perfectly free child, that has not been forced to conform to older habits, whose organic life has grown under the laws we referred to in a former lecture. Do we need a more perfect illustration of perpetual motion, during its waking hours? Give it free room and a few playthings, if they are only blocks of wood, and it will go through a series of positions, stooping, twisting, doubling, turning over, that are incalculable and unapproachable. And you cannot quiet such a child; take away the playthings and every legitimate source of amusement, and your inkstand will be upset, your books ingeniously torn, the table-cloth dragged off, and the contents of the work-basket sent rolling; and if it be absolutely restrained from such questionable devices, it will make it up by fretting and fidgetting till the older head fairly aches. It is a most admirable arrangement, this incessant activity of the child, the inexorable law by which it lives, and which will turn the whole household upside down, sooner than sin against its own nature. For it lives by movement; fresh air and exercise are the mainsprings of its healthy physical life. Thus in the earliest years of life, nature’s indications are very plain; and in exercise, as in the organic functions, the most perfect freedom, under favorable conditions, should be enjoyed by the child, that its own instincts may guide it. Our interference at this early age would be injurious, for our intelligence has not yet supplied us with means by which we can educate the little child better than nature will, if we only surround it with the necessary opportunities; and we cannot, for one moment, doubt the superior physical condition of the young child who can play for the whole day in the fresh air of woods and fields, to one educated in the most skilfully conducted infant school that we have ever seen. At this age, when the instincts of nature are fresh in the child, we have nothing to do, but zealously to aid those instincts it is very doubtful whether our duty to the young child will ever extend beyond this.

But the child grows on. With the period of second dentition, the mind has assumed a different character. The irrational pursuits of early childhood no longer attract — it is impossible to absorb the attention for hours with the position of a few sticks and pebbles, or the manufacture of dirt pies. Exercise must now have a meaning, an object; it must be rational exercise in order to attract, and a book will be far more inviting than a game of play, if there is no mind in the game. The instincts of the body are no longer imperative as with the infant; they are not the same trustworthy guides. The child has now been for a long time under the influence of social habits moulded to the wants of adult life, and nature no longer speaks through it, in the same clear voice; the intelligent will is awaking, and the demands of the body are henceforth made in an humbler tone. But does exercise really become less important to the well-being of the child at this age? Most emphatically not! Every part of the body is in active growth, and exercise is essential to the perfect nutrition of active growth. The bones have not attained their due solidity, they will yield to the pressure of long continued or constrained position; the textures are soft and incomplete; the muscular system is growing, not grown, and demands imperatively its condition of growth — exercise. The nervous system is so extremely susceptible, that muscular exercise is absolutely needed, to balance its activity, and save it from morbid irritability; and the most important physical changes are preparing in the system, the crowning work of the body, whose effects are of vital consequence to the well-being of adult life — the age of puberty, viz. — which demands the most favorable material conditions, that it may be accomplished in that slow and complete manner, which can only be the result of perfect muscular development.

Most evidently then the freest and fullest exercise is required, until the period of puberty is fully established and its functions consolidated. It is only then when the bodily growth is healthily completed, that the physical discipline may relax, that our object may change, or rather receive its completion in the full development of the mind. Until that period of perfected physical growth is reached, all neglect is dangerous; the evils to which I have alluded, will inevitably arise, and imperfection or disease through the whole of life will be the result.

Our special duties to the muscular system commence, when the earliest childhood is past; it is then that our intelligence is absolutely needed, to make physical exercise intellectual, and thus suit it to the wants of the growing child, and it is at this period that we may be said for the first time, truly, to educate the body. We have to provide the object, as well as the method of obtaining it. This object is the exercise of the mind through the body; it is the expression of ideas by means of the muscles: spiritualized physical exercise is the demand of this second stage of youthful life.

The method by which this object may be attained is, 1st, the subjection of the muscular system to the supremacy of the will, by obtaining a perfect control over all the muscles of our body, and a knowledge of the combinations of which they are capable; 2d, the application of the power so obtained to the overcoming passive resistances, as in climbing, running, throwing, &c.; to the overcoming active resistances, as in fencing, wrestling, &c.; to the expression of sentiment, as in pantomime and national dances; and to special adaptations of the muscles, as to the eye in archery, to the ear in singing, to the touch in swimming. But it is not my purpose here to enlarge upon this subject. In this lecture on the voluntary or related life of the body, I can only give you a general idea of the importance of this life, and the principles which should govern it, without entering into the details of education. I have shown you the nature of the muscular system, the paramount importance of its development, and the rank which exercise should hold in youthful education: I must now turn to the second branch of the related life, viz., the senses.

My remarks on the senses will be few, for two reasons;1st, they have not the same powerful influence on the material health, that we have seen belonging to the muscular system; they are more exclusively related to the mind, and though of great importance in education, their consideration belongs only indirectly to the branch of physical education which is properly our subject. And the 2d reason is, that our means of educating the senses are at present very limited; it is a subject not yet understood; we do not comprehend their full scope, and any attempt to lay down a system of training, would be exceedingly imperfect. I shall content myself therefore with giving a few general principles on this subject, which will serve as guides in the true direction, and enable us to understand the position which the senses occupy in the human economy, and what our duty to them requires.

1st. We find the same capacity for improvement which marks so strongly the muscular system, shown most wonderfully in the senses. The eye of the experienced sailor will detect the distant shore, with its lighthouse and scattered cottages, when the landsman perceives nothing but a faint mist and the ship which seems like a dark speck in the horizon, will reveal to him its peculiar structure, and the country to which it belongs. The sagacity of the Indian eye which detects the trail of the enemy on the hard rock, or amongst the bushes of the forest, seems to us incredible. And how remarkable is the touch of the blind, as the finger passes rapidly from line to line, gathering in the varied forms of the letters with unerring certainty, and with an instantaneous recognition, that renders it the transparent medium of thought. By the touch of the hand they distinguish instantly the stranger from the friend; and even the varying pressure of the atmosphere will guide them in directing their steps, and avoiding the contact of external objects.

The illustrations of this power of education in the senses, are familiar to every one’s experience, and it is this power which gives to them, in relation to our present inquiry, their special interest, for it shows us that they are placed directly under our control; that it rests with us to give them their due exercise, and to develop the true life of which they are capable. This acute action of the senses becomes another powerful instrument, through which the mind can express itself: it suggests to us the 2d point of interest in relation to this subject, viz., the intimate connection of the senses with the mind.

The senses are direct avenues to the soul; they are capable of awakening intense emotion, religious enthusiasm, every sublime or tender sentiment. The traveller, as he gazes from the mountain top on the wide extent of forest and hill stretched at his feet, with the blue expanse above and the light clouds sweeping silently over, with no sign of human life, no sound to break the solitude, stands awe-struck with the overpowering immensity and spirit of majestic beauty that rests upon that scene; the eye speaks to the soul of eternity, of the Grand Spirit of the universe, with a power that thrills the heart. And as the traveller winds through some sheltered valley, and marks the thriving village, with its busy inhabitants, what a different tide of emotion sets in! What thoughts of home, what warm human interests are awakened! How our hearts bound to the spirited strains of martial music! how we thrill to the shout of the multitude! and how many a David has charmed away evil spirits by the melody of beautiful sounds! Neither is it a passing emotion of little moment in our life that we receive from the senses, for they are our perpetual bodyguards, surrounding us unceasingly, and these constantly repeated impressions become powerful agents in our life; they refine or brutify our souls, they ennoble or degrade them, according to the beautiful or mean objects which surround us. A dirty slovenly dress will exert an evil moral influence upon the child; it will aid in destroying its self-respect; it will incline it to habits which correspond with such a garment. The beautiful scenes through which a child wanders, playing by the sea-shore, or on the mountain side, will always be remembered; the treasures of shell and sea-weed, brought from wonderful ocean caverns, the soft green moss, where the fairies have danced, and the flowers that have sprung up under their footsteps, will leave a trace of beauty, of mystery, and strange happiness wherever its later life may be cast. The senses mingle powerfully in all the influences of childhood. It is not merely the loving care of parents, the purity and truthfulness of the family relations that make home so precious a recollection; there are visions of winter evenings, with the curtains drawn, the fire blazing, and gay voices or wonderful picture books; there are summer rambles in the cool evening, when the delicious night-breeze fanned the cheek, and we gazed into the heavens to search out the bright stars.

It is then most important in educating children to  guard the senses from evil influences, to furnish them with pure and beautiful objects. Each separate sense should preserve its acuteness of faculty: the eye should not be injured by resting on a vulgar confusion of colors, on clumsy, ill-proportioned forms; the ear should not be falsified by discordant sounds and harsh unloving voices; the nose should not be a receptacle for impure odors; each sense should be preserved in its purity, and the objects supplied to them should be filled with moral suggestion and true sentiment; the house, the dress, the food may preach to the child through its senses, and aid its growth in quite another way from the protection afforded, or the good blood which feeds its organs.

Doubtless the senses are capable of a development of which we have at present little idea. The inconceivable acuteness which they occasionally acquire in individual instances, prove to us the crude state in which they remain in the majority of mankind. Except for the eye and ear, in painting and music, science has done nothing for the senses; but it is evident, from these singular instances of power, that so vast a capacity for growth will not always be left unimproved.

But this point I must leave for future years; all that I have to say on the practical training of the senses will fall under the subject of exercise. It is sufficient here to have pointed out the powerful influence which the senses exercise on the mind.

The third portion of our material frame which connects us with external objects is the brain, the special instrument through which the intelligence and the will manifest themselves. I will call your attention to two anatomical facts in relation to the brain: the first is its soft condition throughout the period of childhood, and the greater firmness which it acquires through adult life. The second is the longer period of growth allowed to the brain; it does not cease to grow with the rest of the body at a definite period, but may continue to enlarge as well as consolidate during adult life. Now, this softness and high vascularity of the brain during youth indicate a period of growth, a period of comparative weakness and excitability, which is not suited to the highest functions of the mind, to reflection and calculation, to judgment, to concentrated attention. Milk for babes, strong meat for men, is the wise rule established for the training of the mind. We must not force the youthful intellect by burdening it, during the limited period of bodily growth, with tasks which are suited to the fully formed brain, nor should we force it to work for a length of time, which interferes with the growth of the rest of the body, and which is quite unsuited to its powers. The lengthened period of growth allowed to the brain confirms this view. We are not obliged to hurry the development of our children; there is a regular order of growth established, and when the body has attained its full strength, the brain will continue to sustain the increasing force of the mental capacity.

Now, while I lay down the distinct rule, that in youth the mind should not be trained to the same extent as the body, it will be at the same time clearly understood that, according to the law of compound movement, there is no period of life when the mind is left idle, and all through childhood the intellectual faculties are rapidly unfolding. But this unfolding is not the result of direct exclusive training, as in later life. The moral nature is not formed by strict precept, by direct instruction; the child will become truthful, just, affectionate, by seeing those virtues constantly practised, by feeling their beauty and goodness, and thus learning to love them; only in this way will it grow in goodness, and later in life, the reasonableness of virtue, its universal necessity, its laws will be understood. So in the intellectual life, the direct and special training of the intellect should be extremely limited. The mind should grow in child-like fashion by means of the body, through the senses, through movement, through the influences which surround it. You cannot teach a child to speak grammatically when it is surrounded by those who violate all propriety of speech; the child learns best, not what it is taught, but what is caught in every-day life amongst companions, in its walks through the streets; and a ramble through the woods, with a wise friend, will give it more real knowledge, will teach the eye to observe, the head to think, and the heart to feel, more than a week spent in poring over books in direct intellectual exercises.

This subject will be more fully understood when I examine our present method of education and habits of life, and judge them by the principles already laid down. This subject will occupy us at our next meeting, and I need not urge the vital importance of this examination; it is the great practical point towards which we have been tending, and on which the highest welfare of our race depends. It is a profoundly interesting question, whether the principles of truth, which we have been collecting, are carried out in our lives, or whether we are setting at defiance every spiritual and material law.

Source: The Laws of Life: With Special Reference to the Physical Education of Girls, by Elizabeth Blackwell, M.D., (New-York: George P. Putnam, 1852), pp. 90-120,