want of similitude, it is very difficult to conceive how the same quantity of blood should be pushed through each artery; yet the result is right; the two limbs, which are nourished by them, perceive no difference of supply, no effects of excess or deficiency.

Concerning the difference of manner, in which the subclavian and carotid arteries, upon the different sides of the body, separate themselves from the aörta, Cheselden seems to have thought, that the advantage which the left gain by going off at an angle much more acute than the right, is made up to the right, by their going off together in one branch. It is very possible that this may be the compensating contrivance: and if it be so, how curious, how hydrostatical!

II. Another perfection of the animal mass is the package. I know nothing which is so surprising. Examine the contents of the trunk of any large animal. Take notice how soft, how tender, how intricate they are; how constantly in action, how necessary to life! Reflect upon the danger of any injury to their substance, any derangement of their position, any obstruction to their office. Observe the heart pumping at the centre, at the rate of eighty strokes in a minute; one set of pipes carrying the stream away from it, another set bringing, in its course, the fluid back to it again; the lungs performing their elaborate office, viz. distending and contracting their many thousand vesicles, by a reciprocation which cannot cease for a minute; the stomach exercising its powerful chymistry; the bowels silently propelling the changed aliment; collecting from it, as it proceeds, and transmitting to the blood, an incessant supply of prepared and assimilated nourishment; that blood pursuing its course; the liver, the kidneys, the pancreas, the parotid, with many other known and distinguishable glands, drawing off from it, all the while, their proper secretions. These several operations, together with others more subtile but less capable of being investigated, are going on within us, at one and the same time. Think of this; and then observe how the body itself, the case which holds this machinery, is rolled, and jolted, and tossed about, the mechanism remaining unhurt, and with very little molestation even of its nicest motions. Observe a rope-dancer, a tumbler, or a monkey; the sudden inversions and contortions which the internal parts sustain by the pos

Ches. Anat. p. 184, ed. 7.

tures into which their bodies are thrown; or rather observe the shocks which these parts, even in ordinary subjects, sometimes receive from falls and bruises, or by abrupt jerks and twists, without sensible, or with soon-recovered damage. Observe this, and then reflect how firmly every part must be secured, how carefully surrounded, how well tied down and packed together.

This property of animal bodies has never, I think, been considered under a distinct head, or so fully as it deserves. I may be allowed therefore, in order to verify my observation concerning it, to set forth a short anatomical detail, though it oblige me to use more technical language than I should wish to introduce into a work of this kind.

1. The heart (such care is taken of the centre of life) is placed between two soft lobes of the lungs; is tied to the mediastinum and to the pericardium; which pericardium is not only itself an exceedingly strong membrane, but adheres firmly to the duplicature of the mediastinum, and, by its point, to the middle tendon of the diaphragm. The heart is also sustained in its place by the great blood-vessels which issue from it.

2. The lungs are tied to the sternum by the mediastinum before to the vertebræ by the pleura, behind. It seems indeed to be the very use of the mediastinum (which is a membrane that goes straight through the middle of the thorax, from the breast to the back) to keep the contents of the thorax in their places; in particular to hinder one lobe of the lungs from incommoding another, or the parts of the lungs from pressing upon each other when we lie on one side.

3. The liver is fastened in the body by two ligaments: the first, which is large and strong, comes from the covering of the diaphragm, and penetrates the substance of the liver; the second is the umbilical vein, which, after birth, degenerates into a ligament. The first, which is the principal, fixes the liver in its situation, whilst the body holds an erect posture; the second prevents it from pressing upon the diaphragm when we lie down and both together sling or suspend the liver when we lie upon our backs, so that it may not compress or obstruct the ascending vena cava, to which belongs the important office of returning the blood from the body to the heart.

4. The bladder is tied to the navel by the urachus; transformed into a ligament: thus, what was a passage for urine to

a Keill's Anat. p. 107, ed. 3.

b Ib. p.

119.

Ches. Anat. p. 162.

the fœtus, becomes, after birth, a support or stay to the bladder. The peritoneum also keeps the viscera from confounding themselves with, or pressing irregularly upon, the bladder; for the kidneys and bladder are contained in a distinct duplicature of that membrane, being thereby partitioned off from the other contents of the abdomen.

5. The kidneys are lodged in a bed of fat.

6. The pancreas, or sweetbread, is strongly tied to the peritonæum, which is the great wrapping sheet, that encloses all the bowels contained in the lower belly 2.

7. The spleen also is confined to its place by an adhesion to the peritoneum and diaphragm, and by a connexion with the omentum. It is possible, in my opinion, that the spleen may be merely a stuffing, a soft cushion to fill up a vacancy or hollow, which, unless occupied, would leave the package loose and unsteady for, supposing that it answers no other purpose than this, it must be vascular, and admit of a circulation through it, in order to be kept alive, or be a part of a living body.

8. The omentum, epiplöon, or cawl, is an apron tucked up, or doubling upon itself, at its lowest part. The upper edge is tied to the bottom of the stomach, to the spleen, as hath already been observed, and to part of the duodenum. The reflected edge also, after forming the doubling, comes up behind the front flap, and is tied to the colon and adjoining viscera .

9. The septa of the brain probably prevent one part of the organ from pressing with too great a weight upon another part. The processes of the dura mater divide the cavity of the skull, like so many inner partition walls, and thereby confine each hemisphere and lobe of the brain to the chamber which is assigned to it, without its being liable to rest upon, or intermix with, the neighbouring parts. The great art and caution of packing, is to prevent one thing hurting another. This, in the head, the chest, and the abdomen of an animal body, is, amongst other methods, provided for by membranous partitions and wrappings, which keep the parts separate.

The above may serve as a short account of the manner in which the principal viscera are sustained in their places. But of the provisions for this purpose, by far, in my opinion, the most curious, and where also such a provision was most wanted, is in the guts. It is pretty evident, that a long narrow tube (in man, about five times the length of the body) laid from b Ches. Anat. p. 167.

Keill's Anat. p. 57.

e Ibid.

side to side in folds upon one another, winding in oblique and circuitous directions, composed also of a soft and yielding substance, must, without some extraordinary precaution for its safety, be continually displaced by the various, sudden and abrupt motions of the body which contains it. I should expect that, if not bruised or wounded by every fall, or leap, or twist, it would be entangled, or be involved with itself; or, at the least, slipped and shaken out of the order in which it is disposed, and which order is necessary to be preserved, for the carrying on of the important functions which it has to execute in the animal œconomy. Let us see, therefore, how a danger so serious, and yet so natural to the length, narrowness, and tubular form of the part, is provided against. The expedient is admirable and it is this. The intestinal canal, throughout its whole process, is knit to the edge of a broad fat membrane called the mesentery. It forms the margin of this mesentery, being stitched and fastened to it like the edging of a ruffle: being four times as long as the mesentery itself, it is what a sempstress would call, "puckered or gathered on" to it. This is the nature of the connexion of the gut with the mesentery; and being thus joined to, or rather made a part of, the mesentery, it is folded and wrapped up together with it. Now the mesentery, having a considerable dimension in breadth, being in its substance, withal, both thick and suety, is capable of a close and safe folding, in comparison of what the intestinal tube would admit of, if it had remained loose. The mesentery likewise not only keeps the intestinal canal in its proper place and position under all the turns and windings of its course, but sustains the numberless small vessels, the arteries, the veins, the lympheducts, and above all, the lacteals, which lead from or to almost every point of its coats and cavity. This membrane, which appears to be the great support and security of the alimentary apparatus, is itself strongly tied to the first three vertebræ of the loins2.

III. A third general property of animal forms is beauty. I do not mean relative beauty, or that of one individual above another of the same species, or of one species compared with another species; but I mean, generally, the provision which is made in the body of almost every animal, to adapt its appearance to the perception of the animals with which it converses In our own species, for example, only consider what the parts Keill's Anat. p. 45.

VOL. I.

H

and materials are, of which the fairest body is composed; and no farther observation will be necessary to show how well these things are wrapped up, so as to form a mass which shall be capable of symmetry in its proportion, and of beauty in its aspect; how the bones are covered, the bowels concealed, the roughnesses of the muscle smoothed and softened; and how over the whole is drawn an integument, which converts the disgusting materials of a dissecting-room into an object of attraction to the sight, or one upon which it rests, at least, with ease and satisfaction. Much of this effect is to be attributed to the intervention of the cellular or adipose membrane, which lies immediately under the skin; is a kind of lining to it: is moist, soft, slippery, and compressible; every where filling up the interstices of the muscles, and forming thereby their roundness and flowing line, as well as the evenness and polish of the whole surface.

All which seems to be a strong indication of design, and of a design studiously directed to this purpose. And it being once allowed, that such a purpose existed with respect to any of the productions of nature, we may refer, with a considerable degree of probability, other particulars to the same intention; such as the teints of flowers, the plumage of birds, the furs of beasts, the bright scales of fishes, the painted wings of butterflies and beetles, the rich colours and spotted lustre of many tribes of insects.

There are parts also of animals ornamental, and the properties by which they are so, not subservient, that we know of, to any other purpose. The irides of most animals are very beautiful, without conducing at all, by their beauty, to the perfection of vision; and nature could in no part have employed her pencil to so much advantage, because no part presents itself so conspicuously to the observer, or communicates so great an effect to the whole aspect.

In plants, especially in the flowers of plants, the principle of beauty holds a still more considerable place in their composition; is still more confessed than in animals. Why, for one instance out of a thousand, does the corolla of the tulip, when advanced to its size and maturity, change its colour? The purposes, so far as we can see, of vegetable nutrition, might have been carried on as well by its continuing green. Or, if this could not be, consistently with the progress of vegetable life, why break into such a variety of colours? This is no proper effect of age, or of declension in the ascent of the sap; for that,