"Did you ever think that your soul had senses as well as your body?"
inquired the old man.

"You ask me a strange question. How can a mere spirit--an airy
something, so to speak--have senses?"

"Do you never use the words--'I see it clearly'--meaning that you
see some form of truth presented to your mind. As, for instance,--if
I say, 'To be good is to be happy,' you will answer, 'Oh, yes; I see
that clearly.' Your soul, then, has, at least, the sense of sight.
And that it has the sense of taste also, will, I think, be clear to
you, when you remember bow much you enjoy the reading of a good
book, wherein is food for the mind. Healthy food is sometimes
presented in so unpalatable a shape, that the taste rejects it; and
so it is with truth, which is the mind's food. I instance this, to
make it clearer to you. So you see that the soul has at least two
senses--sight and taste. That it has feeling needs scarcely an
illustration. The mind is hurt quite as easily as the body, and, the
path of an injury is usually more permanent. The child who has been
punished unjustly feels the injury inflicted on his spirit, days,
months, and, it may be, years, after the body has lost the smarting
consciousness of stripes. And you know that sharp words pierce the
mind with acutest pain. We may speak daggers, as well as use them.
Is this at all clear to you, Miss Markland?"

"Oh, very clear! How strange that I should never have thought of
this myself! Yes--I see, hear, taste, and feel with my mind, as well
as with my body."

"Think a little more deeply," said the old man. "If the mind have