and each one in a definite direction from the others, and where it is there it must occasion sensation, and we see it or feel it where it is. Hence, following the outline from point to point, either with the eye or the hand, we learn the form of the object.

But note that we have now made a transition to a new kind of relation, a space-relation; and this is something not sensible, but intelligible. We do not perceive space-relations by the senses nor in sensation, but by the intellect in connection with any perception of matter. If a sensation is occasioned by we know not what, we have no such knowledge of space in connection with it; as in smell, taste, or ordinary hearing. But this is not perception proper; and where perception proper does occur, and the external occasion of sensation is recognized, it is always under space-relations. We conclude, then, that all the sensible qualities of bodies are reducible to various forms of force, operating on our sense-organs, whether they be classified in the first, second, or third classes, each one under its own relations and conditions; but that there are other qualities or relations, not given by sense, but intelligible, knowable by the intellect alone, which may be called being or real existence, and space or metaphysical extension. Or it may be said that the mind, in true perception, operates under the category of being, and under the form of space. Sir W. Hamilton says that space is known a priori, extension a posteriori; a valuable distinction in terms, but which it would be hopeless to attempt to introduce into the ordinary language of philosophy. It would be well if extension could be used as the name of space as empirically known, occupied by body or contained between different bodies or parts of bodies, and the term space used only of the abstractly known possibility in the universe through which these extension-relations exist. Yet we cannot hope to see the terms so used, especially since many modern writers purposely confound the two, and attempt to reduce all space to extension. Bain, and Mill, and their followers, declare that space is a generalization from space-relations. Now we may admit that infinite or indefinite extension is such a product, known empirically or a posteriori, without prejudicing the great metaphysical question of space. When we

begin to learn our relations to the world around us, we first learn the space-relations (extension-relations) of the things we can reach and those near by us; next the trees, houses, animals, objects we see from day to day; then the mountains, rivers, cities, seas, the globe we live on; the moon, too, is comparatively easily reached by this space-construction, its distance being quite conceivable and comparable with those we have already learned. Thence we ascend to the planets and the fixed stars, where, for any clear understanding, we must use a different unit of extension, and compare no longer by miles but by diameters of the earth and of her orbit. Our knowledge of extension (space) is thus built up, a product of experience and science. This fact is usually overlooked by the a priori school of philosophers.

But the experience-philosophers in turn overlook the far more important point that not a single distance can be compared or estimated, not a single step taken in all this process, this so-called induction, which does not involve the very space which they say is a generalization. Now whatever this knowledge or feeling of space be called, a priori concept, intuition, or anything else, of space, its relation to perception remains the same, that there can be no true perception of the external world without it. If I see together a tall man and a short one, I cannot know in what the difference between them consists, unless I have at the time of comparing them, in and with the act of comparison, and as a sort of category which I apply in this act, in my mind if not in words, some conception of what bigness, size, is. So, if the points of a pair of compasses be placed upon my skin, not too near together, so that the two sensations are exactly alike in everything except in place, I could not know that this is the particular in which they differ, if I had not, in and with my double sensation, some conception, perhaps not previously existing, but now existing, of what difference in place is, and this depends on space. Or, if I look at a colored object and feel around it with my eyes, following its outline, I perceive the different lines and points of the object as different in place; that is, I know the object in relation to space, not as having physical solidity, but as having mathematical solidity or extension. That is to say, space is

known directly by the intellect; not by the sense, but by a direct and inexplicable act of the mind in connection with perception.

The case is nearly parallel with that of causation. On this the errors of both schools of philosophy have, however, been more generally recognized. The experience-philosophers are obliged to discharge causation of all its real meaning, and reduce it to mere invariable sequence, before they can account for it on their theory. Science may prove invariable sequence throughout the universe, observation may detect it in the most unexpected places, our knowledge of it may be generalized, abstracted, combined in any way, without in the least affecting the great question of the metaphysical principle of causation. On the other, hand, the a priori philosophers are obliged to admit that causation is never perceived by the senses, that it is intelligible, not sensible. When one ball strikes another we cannot see any force passing from one to the other, any causation going on, but we know that motion or force in the one is the cause of motion in the other, and we cannot help knowing it, and to say there is nothing in it but sequence, because our senses cannot detect anything else, is trifling. We hold that the true doctrine of space in perception is very similar. To say that there is no space but extension, because we can generalize extension, learn it, demonstrate several things about it, etc., is trifling. Moreover, that idealism, which since Kant has been so common, declaring that space is only a form of the mind, which it imposes upon external objects, and which has no reality as a condition of material existence apart from perception, only shirks the problem, does not really attempt its solution. For that space is a mere form or necessity of thought, not a form or necessity of things, is gratuitous assertion. But that space is a form and necessity of things themselves, material existence in its real nature, is an assertion supported by irresistible conviction and by physical and metaphysical arguments. But a discussion of space would take us beyond our subject, and require too much space.

We conclude, then, that matter is capable of various kinds of action, which actions must be, of course, in relation with other bodies. For example, our piece of iron has molecular vibra

tions which may be increased in rapidity or amplitude by contact with burning coals, and may in turn impart the same action to my hand or any other object. It has atomic vibrations, and these may be so changed by contact with oxygen or sulphur as to combine with those substances, so that the iron is no longer recognizable by the senses. It has attractive force or gravity, especially toward the center of the earth, and this may increase or diminish according to its distance from the earth's surface. It may have magnetic vibrations or arrangements of atoms, which may cause similar phenomena in other bits of iron. It can stop some of the vibrations of light and reflect others, probably because some are synchronous or rhythmical with its own vibrations. These are examples of a range of activity whose limits are unknown. Such of these actions as can affect other objects must also affect our bodies, and as our bodies contain various organs, ranging in kind and delicacy from a pair of scales for measuring gravity to a photographic plate for recording light-vibrations, we can be affected in various ways by the motions of matter. And since we can interpret these motions into sensation, and by comparing these sensations develop out of them perception and thought, the activity of objects towards us seems at first sight different from their activity toward other things, but is not really so. What it is which thus vibrates, moves, affects other matter, we do not presume to decide, nor have we space at present to enter upon the inquiry. Undoubtedly motion implies something which moves, and action implies something which acts, just as much as quality implies substance; but the distinction between action and actor, or motion and thing moved, is not an artificial, logic-made one, but a practical, every-day one, involved in all our mental life, as well as appearing in the great metaphysical truth of causation. If a formula of perception were required of us we should say: Matter affects our sense-organs by various activities, which we interpret into a knowledge of what we call its qualities or phenomena; but it is intelligible by our intellect as real being, and under the relations of space and cause; yet space and cause are not objects of sense.

ARTICLE V.-THE FIRST CHURCH OF HARTFORD,

CONNECTICUT.

History of the First Church in Hartford, 1633-1883. By GEORGE LEON WALKER. Illustrated. Hartford: Brown & Gross, 1884.

AMONG the early New England churches, this stands as the eleventh in the order of existence on these American shores. The first is the mother church at Plymouth which dates its English existence back to the earliest years of the seventeenth century, and so is now drawing on toward its 300th anniversary. On our own New England shores it antedates all other church organizations by nine years. The next is the Salem church organized in July, 1629. The summer of 1630 added three more, first,-the Church of Dorchester, formed in Plymouth, England, March 20th of that year, reaching New England, May 30, and remaining at Dorchester till 1635-6, when it removed to Windsor, Conn. There on the 30th of March, 1880, it celebrated its 250th anniversary. The other two were the Church of Charlestown, which soon by removal became the First Church of Boston, and the Church at Watertown. These two, last named, were organized July 30, 1630. In the year 1631 there was no addition to the list. But the year 1632 added five, viz: the Churches of Roxbury, Lynn, Duxbury, Marshfield, and Charlestown, the last organized to take the place of the one formed two years before, which had removed to Boston.

The only church organized in New England in the year 1633 was this First Church of Hartford, whose beginnings were at Cambridge, then Newtown, in the Massachusetts Bay. On the 4th day of September, 1633, there was a notable arrival at the port of Boston. On that day a ship from England, the Griffin, came into the harbor, bearing, among many other passengers, John Cotton, John Haynes, Thomas Hooker, and Samuel Stone. John Cotton and Thomas Hooker are generally recognized as the two ablest divines of the first New England gener