We rank ourselves with the second party, and conceive that we must cease
speaking of 'the mind,' and discontinue enlisting in our investigations
a spiritual essence, the existence of which cannot be proved, but which
tends to mystify and perplex a question sufficiently clear if we confine
ourselves to the consideration of organised matter--its forms--its
changes--and its aberrations from normal structure. [46:1]

The eccentric Count de Caylus, when on his death-bed, was visited by
some near relations and a pious Bishop, who hoped that under such trying
circumstances he would manifest some concern respecting those
'spiritual' blessings which, while in health, he had uniformly treated
with contempt. After a long pause he broke silence by saying, 'Ah,
friends, I see you are anxious about my soul;' whereupon they pricked up
their ears with delight; before, however, any reply could be made, the
Count added, '_but the fact is I have not got one, and really my good
friends, you must allow me to know best_.'

If people in general had one tenth the good sense of this _impious_
Count, the fooleries of spiritualism would at once give place to the
philosophy of Materialism; and none would waste time in talking or
writing about nonentities. All would know that what theologians call
sometimes spirit, sometimes soul, and sometimes mind, is an imaginary
existence. All would know that the terms _immaterial something_, do in
very truth mean _nothing_. Count de Caylus died as became a man
convinced that soul is not an entity, and that upon the dissolution of
our 'earthly tabernacle,' the particles composing it cease to perform
vital functions, and return to the shoreless ocean of Eternal Being.
Pietists may be shocked by such _nonchalance_ in the face of their 'grim
monster,' but philosophers will admire an indifference to inevitable
consequences resulting from profoundest love of truth and contempt of