it is but a sorry title at best; still, as it is the term usually applied, we will not stop to split hairs, or quibble, like lawyers, about words."

66

"So, then, all the different pleasures that we found the persons pursuing in our journey through the town," the lad went on saying, half to himself, delighted now that he had got hold of something like a clew to the mystery, were either sensual, intellectual, or—or moral ones. Let me see! let me see!" he continued, musing, “whether I can make it out by myself. The drunkard's was a-a-sensual pleasure, of course, and so was the epicure's; and the poet's was an intellectual one. Yes, of course it was, and so was the philosopher's too; and the miser's was-was-what would you call the pleasure the miser found in his money, eh, uncle? It can't be intellectual; I should think it's sensual, isn't it?"

"No, lad; the love of money belongs to the class of moral pleasures," was the answer.

"Why, there's nothing moral about that, I'm sure," returned the pupil, with more frankness than deference to his teacher.

"There is no more true morality in moneygrubbing, Ben," added the old man, "than there is profound intellect in collecting bits of old pavement and old tiles; and yet it is avarice that makes the one pleasure congenial to the miser, even as knowledge gives a zest to the other with the antiquary."

"But avarice is greediness after money, isn't it, uncle? and if the greediness of the epicure is sensual, why shouldn't the miser's gluttony for the guineas be called the same?" argued the boy, who was not at all pleased to hear the passion of the old hunks dignified into a moral pursuit.

"Why, my lad," answered Uncle Benjamin, 66 simply because it is not the senses that enjoy

the money, as the palate does the food or drink, but the sordid heart that finds delight in it. Granted the greed of the one is no more enlightened or refined than that of the other—for there are degrading moral pleasures as well as degrading sensual ones, Ben; but the delights of human nature are simply sensual, intellectual, or moral, I say again, according as they are enjoyed either by the senses, the mind, or the heart of man."

"Oh, I understand now," responded the pupil. "But, uncle," he cried, the moment afterward, "what's the use of these grand names and nice distinctions? they don't seem to me to give a chap any real knowledge of the nature of the pleasures themselves, after all.”

"Well said, my son, well said!" the old man replied, as he pressed the pet boy to his bosom. "I'm glad to see you are not to be put off with mere big words, Ben. But it so happens in this case that the grand terms are not simply hard names invented to confound the vulgar, but they mark distinctions which enable us to study a number of different things at once-to group together a large variety of human pleasures, and thus find out what is common to all of that same kind, instead of our having to criticise each isolated pleasure successively; so that when we have once parceled out all the delights of mankind into the delights either of the senses, intellect, or heart, we can ascertain the peculiar attributes of each distinct class of delight merely by attending to the peculiar characteristics of sensation, thought, and emotion in all mankind."

"Ah! I see," exclaimed the boy, thoughtfully; "but isn't it very difficult to find out what are these peculiar characteristics, as you call them?”

"The knowledge can be gained only by profound reflection and long attention to the mat

ter," was the answer. "However, let us begin at once with the sensual pleasures, and see what worldly wisdom we can gather from even a cursory review of them, my little man."

The boy again placed himself in a convenient position for listening as he said, "Yes, uncle, go on."

THE PLEASURES OF THE SENSES.

"In the first place, then," commenced the godfather, "I should tell you that a sensation, according to the strict meaning of the term, always requires an external cause to give rise to it, whereas a thought has always an internal origin, being excited in the mind, in every case, by some preceding mental state. For instance, this rock produces in me a sensation of roughness as I draw my hand along it, and this makes me think of the texture of other rocks, and then, inwardly comparing the one with my remembrance of the other impressions, I judge what quality of stone it is by the mere touch. The external body thus excites the sensation in my mind, and this inward sensation produces the thought of other bodies like it, and that thought again induces the comparison and ultimate judgment. The first impression had an outward origin; the ideas which followed it were all excited within me, the one mental state giving rise to the other."

"I understand," said the attentive listener. "A sensation"—and he went over the distinction so as to impress it the better on his memory— 66 comes from something outside of us; a thought is excited by something within."

"Well, then, my boy," continued the other, "this being understood, of course it follows that we can have as many different sensations as we have different means of communicating with the outward world, or as there are, so to speak, dif

ferent doors and inlets to our mind. Now, how many different organs of sensation have we, lad? You know that, Ben, I suppose ?"

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"Oh yes, uncle, we have five senses, I know," replied the youth. "Let me see, what are they? Seeing" (and he told them off, one after the other, on his fingers as he spoke), "hearing, tasting, smelling, and feeling; yes, that's the five, all told." "True, my man," added the uncle; "but a son may have many other sensations than such as come in through the organs of sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch. These are the five principal gates to the brain, certainly, but beyond them there is the general sense of heat and cold, as well as the several appetites of the body, all of which have an external origin as much as any other sensations of which we are susceptible. The gastric juice, for example, from the action of which on the stomach the feeling of hunger is said to proceed, is as much external to the mind as the soft, warm breeze which I feel now as it sweeps past my cheek."

"Go on," said the boy, as the old man paused for a minute to see whether the little fellow could follow him.

"And besides these, Ben," the godfather proceeded, "there is that indefinite sensation which comes from the natural and genial action of every function throughout the human frame when in a state of absolute health, or the sense of convalescence, as it is termed, and which has no particular organ to develop it, but arises from the fit operation of all the different parts of the system at once. Then again, lad, there is the sense we have of physical exercise, or that peculiar feeling which arises in the mind on the contraction of our muscles and play of our limbs, as well as the sense of effort that we experience when we en

deavor to exert our power in any great degree. And farther, there is the sense of ease or satisfaction that we feel either after resting from fatigue, or on the allaying of any appetite, or the relief of any bodily pain. Lastly, there is the sense of stimulus or inordinate excitement, such as we experience when the particular functions of our body are performed with unusual vigor, as upon the quickening of the circulation, or upon being thrown into that peculiar vivid state called mental emotion, and which seems to affect the body almost as much as the mind. The same sense of stimulus also manifests itself in that peculiar impression of increased liveliness of system which is usually called 'animal spirits.' And here, so far as I know, Ben," concluded Uncle Benjamin, "ends the catalogue of the distinct sensations of which mankind is susceptible."

"Very good! very good!" cried the little fellow; "and now let me see whether I can remember them all. First come the five principal sensations of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and feeling; and then-let me see, how did you go on? Oh yes! then there is the sensation of heat and cold, and of the bodily appetites; and after that you mentioned the sensation with the long name, you know-the sensation of-of perfect con-con-convalescence-yes, that's it; andand-what's after that?-don't you tell me, uncle. Oh, ay! I've got it-of exercise and of effort; and then there is the sensation of ease or satisfaction; and, lastly, that of stimulus or-or-whatever was it you called it ?-some hard word or another, I know it was."

"Or inordinate excitement," prompted the teacher.

"Oh yes; inordinate excitement, so it was," cried the boy (clapping his hands as the remem