In ancient Egypt, two modes of writing were practised, namely, the common and the hieroglyphic. There were several kinds of common characters, and also, as it would appear, of hieroglyphics. Clemens of Alexandria distinguishes from both the hieratic, which was used by the sacred registrars. The ancient Mexicans employed pictorial writing; and of this nature we may consider the Bayeux tapestry, representing the chief incidents of the invasion of England by William i. Savages often give information to their friends, or convey their wishes, by cutting rude figures on the bark of trees, the meaning of which is at once understood by every individual of the tribe.
On these points we have sufficiently enlarged. Our main purpose is now to show how great an inlet to knowledge the ear is. To the eye speak the writings of antiquity, the accumulated wisdom of successive generations, the experience of sages, and those holy records which contain the oracles of God, the sacred truths, and the revelation of the purposes of the Almighty towards a fallen race. It is by language, as it appeals to the eye, that we commune with the mighty dead—that we receive into our minds the sublime ideas of a Milton, the learning of a Bacon, or the philosophy of a Newton. But it is to the ear that the conversation of ordinary life is directed; the directions, the requests, the commands that we continually issue forth or receive—words of congratulation, consolation, encouragement, or information—the eloquence of the senate or the bar—the strenuous admonitions or exhortations of the preacher. What a wonderful thing the mind of man is, that a few atmospheric vibrations on the auditory nerves, or a few pictures on the retina, should produce sorrow or joy, hope or fear—should communicate instruction or pleasure—should excite sympathy or love, contempt or aversion! And, again, how wonderfully is the organic frame constructed, and adapted to the conditions of our planet, that light and air should communicate through two of our external senses with the mind, affording it food for cogitation, stores of knowledge, and intellectual gratification! Does this arise in any degree from the superiority of the organs of sight and hearing in man? Certainly not. The vulture, soaring in the upper sky, far excels man in the power of vision. Yes, and so does every bird that skims the air, or hovers in quest of prey over the surface of the great deep. The dog, the horse, the antelope, and numerous other lower animals, have quicker ears than man; but then the mind! it is there that the difference lies; with a weaker sight than is usual, with a more imperfect hearing than is ordinary, sages and philosophers, and historians and poets, have left to posterity the brightest productions of mental power. Homer and Milton were blind.
Through the sense of hearing man communicates orally with man, and man utters his prayers and praises orally to God, as if God heard with ears like those of organic beings. It is natural that we should thus address ourselves to the Almighty, because our conceptions of him are necessarily limited by the measure of our minds, expansive as regards the lower creation, but narrow—oh, how narrow!—compared with the wisdom of the uncreate Eternal. "He that planted the ear, shall he not hear!"[18] It matters not whether we murmur forth with our lips, or silently think them in our mind—God hears them. He hears the language of our heart, the aspirations and vows of our inmost soul: and he knows, too, (and he alone can know,) whether we be sincere or the contrary. The tongue of the hypocrite may deceive men, but not God; nay, we may deceive ourselves by our own verbiage, but God distinguishes the prayer inspired by the Spirit of truth, from the empty declaration of excitement.
[18] Psa. xciv. 9.
Thus, then, is the ear an inlet of a vast amount of knowledge to the mind; it conveys what the eye cannot convey, and it assists the eye, while in turn by the eye it is assisted; and, indeed, that one sense shall support another, and be again supported, or corrected, is ordained by our Creator, who in wisdom has fashioned our mortal framework, the tenement of an undying soul.
3. Taste.—The sense of taste conveys to the mind an impression from objects, very dissimilar to that which is gained through the medium of the eye or of the ear; nay, dissimilar to that conveyed by the sense of touch.
The sense of taste resides in the mouth; that is, it pervades the tongue, the palate, and the pharynx, on which are distributed fine ramifications of the fifth, eighth, and ninth pair of nerves.
Taste is the appreciation of the savour of bodies, or, in other words, of certain chemical qualities, which, acting on the nerves, give to our mind an agreeable or disagreeable sensation; hence the terms sweet, luscious, acid, vinous, sour, bitter, saline, spicy, aromatic, etc. Some bodies, however, are tasteless—pure distilled water is tasteless, and so would a small globe of glass be, however long it was held in the mouth; but if we put our tongue to a piece of brass, or copper, we perceive at once a peculiar flavour, resulting from the oxydized film on its surface mingling with the saliva covering the nervous papillæ of the tongue.
The organs of taste are placed at the commencement of the apparatus of nutrition, and their assigned work is to test the quality of the food received, thereby giving warning lest any noxious substance be introduced into the stomach. Man, indeed, employs the sense of taste far less decidedly in this manner than do most other animals; he is omnivorous; in the north he relishes train-oil and blubber, the blood of seals, and animal food half raw, while, in tropical regions, he feeds upon boiled rice or other grain, seasoned with a little spice, and accounts it a luxury. In both cases, the taste is in consonance with the requirements of the system, placed under opposite circumstances. Man, however, acquires by habit an artificial taste, and comes at last to relish things which he at first disliked, and in many instances these things are more or less injurious. Nor is this artificial taste confined only to man—we have seen it in domestic animals—cats, by nature exclusively carnivorous, will eat boiled cabbage with relish; the dog will acquire a partiality for bread and biscuit. On the contrary, some of our herbivorous animals may be taught to like animal food. For example, in some parts of Arabia, flesh, raw as well as cooked, is occasionally given to the horses, with fragments of their owner's meals. An inhabitant of Hamah assured Burckhardt, that he had often given his horses roasted meat before the commencement of a fatiguing journey, that they might be the better able to endure it; this same person, as we learn from the learned traveller, fearing lest the governor should take from him his favourite horse, fed it for a fortnight exclusively upon roasted pork, which so excited its spirit and mettle, that it became absolutely unmanageable, and no longer an object of desire to the governor.
In the Edinburgh Journal of Natural History we find the following passage: "We are assured by M. Yvart, that in Auvergne fat soups are given to cattle, especially when sick or enfeebled, for the purpose of invigorating them. The same practice is observed in some parts of North America, where the country people mix, in winter, fat broth with the vegetables given to their cattle, in order to render them more capable of resisting the severity of the weather. These broths have been long considered efficacious by the veterinary practitioners of our own country, in restoring horses which have been enfeebled through long illness. It is said by Peall to be a common practice in some parts of India to mix animal substances with the grain given to feeble horses, and to boil the mixture into a sort of paste, which soon brings them into good condition, and restores their vigour. Pallas tells us, that the Russian boors make use of the dried flesh of the hamster, reduced to powder, and mixed with oats, and that this occasions their horses to acquire a sudden and extraordinary degree of embonpoint. Anderson relates, in his History of Iceland, that the inhabitants feed their horses with dried fishes when the cold is very intense, and that these animals are extremely vigorous, though small. We also know, that in the Feroë Islands, the Orkneys, the Western Islands, and in Norway, where the climate is still very cold, this practice is also adopted; and it is not uncommon, in some very warm countries, as in the kingdom of Muskat, in Arabia Felix, near the Straits of Ormuz, one of the most fertile parts of Arabia; fish and other animal substances are there given to the horses in the cold season, as well as in times of scarcity."