SECTION II. ATTENTION AND REFLECTION.

I HAVE remarked in the previous section that consciousness, in the ordinary states of the mind, is involuntary. We are sensible of no effort of the will when we either observe the objects around us, or are conscious of the mental changes taking place within us. I have also above alluded to the fact that we may make either the object perceived, or the state of the perceiving subject, an object of thought. But, besides this, our consciousness may be accompanied by an act of the will. We may, for instance, will to examine, with the greatest possible care, an object of perception, as a mineral, or a flower, or some particular work of art. Excluding every other object of thought, the effort of the mind is concentrated upon the act of perception. We thus may discover qualities which we never before perceived. But in what respect does this state of mind differ from ordinary consciousness? The effort of the will cannot change the image formed on the retina; for it can exert no influence whatever on the laws of light to which this image is subjected. It must consist in a more intense consciousness, by which every impression made on the organ of sense is brought more directly before the mind. Our consciousness is excited and directed by an act of the will. This condition of mind, when directed to an external object, is properly called Attention.

The difference between consciousness and attention may, I think, be easily illustrated. In passing through a street, we are conscious of perceiving every house within the range of our vision. But let us now come to a row of buildings, one of which we desire to find, and which has been previously described to us. We examine every one of these houses earnestly and minutely. We can, if it be necessary

describe every cne of them with accuracy, while of the others which we have passed in our walk we can give no account whatever. We say that we have observed every house in that row attentively, but that on the others we bestowed no attention. Or, to take a too common instance; we read a book carelessly, we see every letter and form a conception of every sentence; but all is done listlessly, and we close the book hardly aware of a single idea that we have gained while we have been thus occupied. Let, however, our whole mental effort be directed to the subject on which we are reading, and we fix it in our recollection, and we can, at will, recall it and make it a matter of thought. We say of ourselves, that in the former case we read without and in the latter case with attention.

We sometimes, I think, speak of attention as practically distinguished from every other act of the mind. Thus, suppose we are striving to catch an indistinct sound that is occurring at intervals, we then listen with attention. We say to another person, "Give all your attention that is possible, and you may hear it." He may possibly reply, "I am all attention." Here we seem to recognize the condition of attention directed to no present object of perception, bu we merely place ourselves in a condition to perceive any object which presents itself.

Sometimes the object to which our thought is directed is internal; that is, it is some state of the mind itself. Ordinary consciousness testifies to the existence of these stater without any act of the will; nay, it is not in the power of the will to arrest this continuous testimony. But we sometimes desire to consider some particular mental state, as the t of perception or memory; or some emotion, as that of he beautiful or sublime. It is in the power of the will to detain such mental state, and hold it up before us as an object of thought. When, by volition, we make our own

mental states objects of observation, we denominate this act Reflection. As the etymology of the word indicates, we turn the mind backwards upon itself, so that it contemplates its own states and operations, very much as in the case of attention it concentrates its effort upon objects of perception.

I do not pretend that the words attention and reflection are always used in this restricted sense. Attention is frequently used to designate voluntary consciousness both objective and subjective. Reflection is not so commonly used to denote both mental states. It has, however, seemed to me that these mental states should be designated by different terms, and that the etymology of the two words, as well as the general current of good use, tends in the direction which I have here indicated.

This general power of rendering the various faculties of the mind obedient to the will is of the greatest possible importance to the student. Without it, he can never employ any power of the mind with energy or effect. Until it be acquired, our faculties, however brilliant, remain undisciplined and comparatively useless. From the want of it, many men, who in youth give, as is supposed, great promise of distinction, with advancing years sink down into hopeless obscurity. Endowed with fertility of imagination and unusual power of language, they are able to follow any train of thought that accident may suggest, and clothe the ideas of others with imagery which seems to indicate original of scientific research. But the time soon arrives when the exigences of life require accuracy of knowledge, soundness of judgment, and well-placed reliance on the decisions of our own intellect. The time for display has passed, and the time for action—action on which our success or failure depends has come. Such men, then, after perhaps dazzling the circle of their friends with a few wild and

power

fanciful schemes, which gleam at intervals amid the approaching darkness, sink below the horizon, and are seen no more forever.

One of the greatest advantages derived from early and systematic education is found in the necessity which it imposes of learning thoroughly and at stated periods certain appropriate lessons. We are thus obliged to direct our attention for a time to the earnest pursuit of some subject. By being placed under this necessity for a few years, the power of the will over the faculties, if we are faithful to ourselves, becomes habitual. What we learn is of importance, but this importance is secondary to that of so cultivating and disciplining our faculties that we are ever afterwards able to use them in enlarging the boundaries of science, or directing the courses of human thought and action. If a system of education, besides cultivating the habit of attention, cultivates also the habit of reflection and generalization, so that the student learns not only to acquire but from his acquisitions to arise to general principles, observe the operations of his own mind, and compare what he has learned with the instinctive teachings of his own understanding, the great object of the instructor will be successfully accomplished.

To acquire habits of earnest and continued attention and reflection, is one of the most difficult tasks of the student. At the beginning, he finds his mind wandering, his attention easily turned aside from the object to which he would direct it, and disposed to yield to the attraction of external objects, or to seize upon every fancy that the memory or the imagination may present. Much of that time is thus spent in dreamy idleness, which he had really determined to employ in laborious study. It is evident that his success must depend wholly on the correction of these habits. Our minds are comparatively useless to us, unless we can render

them obedient servants to the will, so that, at any time and under any circumstances, we can oblige them to think of what we wish, as long as we wish, and then dismiss it and think of something else. We should strive to attain such a command of all our faculties that we can direct our whole mental energies upon the most abstruse proposition, until we have either solved it, or ascertained that, with our present advantages, a solution is impossible.

Perhaps the section cannot be more profitably closed than by the suggestion of some means by which the power of the will over the other faculties may be increased.

1. Much depends upon the condition of the physical system. Our intellectual faculties are in more perfect exercise in health than in sickness, and as the condition of the body tends to sickness our power over them is proportionally diminished. Every one knows how difficult it is to command his attention during a paroxysm of fever. In recovering from illness, one of the first symptoms of convalescence is a return of the power over the mind, and a disposition to employ it in its accustomed pursuits. Now, it is obvious that anything which interferes with the normal condition of the system, during the continuance of its action, produces the same effect as temporary indisposition. Such causes are overfeeding, either occasionally or habitually, the use of indigestible food, the want of sleep, or exercise, undue mental excitement, or excessive fatigue. Every one in the least attentive to this subject must have observed the effect of some or all of these causes upon his power of mental concentration. A large portion of the life of many men is spent in habitual violation of the laws by which the free use of the mind is conditioned. If, by accident, they for a short time obey the laws of their nature, their intellectual powers recover their tone, and they enjoy what they call a lucid interval. They postpone all important mental labor