always, the unjust and the just alike, for God is no respecter of
persons.

Consciousness and change, so far as we can watch them, are as
functionally interdependent as mind and matter, or condition and
substance, are--for the condition of every substance may be
considered as the expression and outcome of its mind. Where there
is consciousness there is change; where there is no change there is
no consciousness; may we not suspect that there is no change without
a pro tanto consciousness however simple and unspecialised? Change
and motion are one, so that we have substance, feeling, change (or
motion), as the ultimate three-in-one of our thoughts, and may
suspect all change, and all feeling, attendant or consequent,
however limited, to be the interaction of those states which for
want of better terms we call mind and matter. Action may be
regarded as a kind of middle term between mind and matter; it is the
throe of thought and thing, the quivering clash and union of body
and soul; commonplace enough in practice; miraculous, as violating
every canon on which thought and reason are founded, if we theorise
about it, put it under the microscope, and vivisect it. It is here,
if anywhere, that body or substance is guilty of the contradiction
in terms of combining with that which is without material substance
and cannot, therefore, be conceived by us as passing in and out with
matter, till the two become a body ensouled and a soul embodied.

All body is more or less ensouled. As it gets farther and farther
from ourselves, indeed, we sympathise less with it; nothing, we say
to ourselves, can have intelligence unless we understand all about
it--as though intelligence in all except ourselves meant the power
of being understood rather than of understanding. We are