Now we come to the eye, which is the window of the Soul's abode. And what a window! how curiously constructed! how wisely guarded! In the eyelashes, as well as the eyebrows, we see the hair fulfilling a useful purpose, differing from any already described. The eyelashes serve to keep cold winds, dust, and too bright sun, from injuring or entering the windows of the body. When we walk against the east wind, we bring the tips of our eyelashes together, and in that way exclude the cold air from the surface of the eye; and in the same manner we exclude the dust and modify the light. The eyelashes, therefore, are like so many sentries, constantly moving to and fro, protecting a most important organ from injury. The eyelids are the shutters by which the windows are opened and closed. But they also cleanse the eye, keeping it bright and moist. There are, moreover, in the lids of each eye or window, little glands, or springs, by which a clear fluid is formed and supplied for cleansing the eye. The eye is placed in a socket of the skull, in which it has free motion, turning right or left, up or down, to serve the purpose of the inhabitant of the dwelling. Of the structure of the eye itself we will not say much, for the engravings will afford a clearer understanding than a lengthy written description. But we would have you examine the formation of the iris of the living eye, the ring which surrounds the pupil. Hold a light to it, and you will find that the iris will contract and diminish the pupil; withdraw the light, and the iris will relax, and the pupil expand, thus regulating the amount of light. The images of external objects are formed upon the retina of the eye, a thin membrane, spread out upon the extremity of a large nerve, which proceeds immediately to the brain, and forms the telegraphic cord by which information is given to the mind, of everything visible going on within the range of sight.
"Thou art of purer eyes than to behold evil, and canst not look on iniquity."—Habakkuk i.
Now, think for a few moments upon the wonderful structure of those windows of the body. Can you fancy, in the walls of your house, a window which protects itself, cleanses itself, and turns in any direction at the mere will of the tenant; and when that tenant is oppressed by excess of light, draws its own curtain, and gives him ease; and when he falls asleep, closes its own shutters, and protects itself from the cold and dust of night, and the instant he awakes in the morning, opens, cleanses itself with a fluid which it has prepared during the night, and kept in readiness; and repeats this routine of duty day after day for half a century, without becoming impaired? Such, nevertheless, is the wonderful structure of the window of the body—the eye.
In some scientific works that have recently been published, curious investigations have been made known. It has been shown that the eye is impressed momentarily, as a photographic plate is impressed by the rays of the sun. But the photography of the eye has this extraordinary quality—that one image passes away, and another takes its place immediately, without confusion or indistinctness. But the most wonderful assertion of all is, that under the excitement of memory these photographic images are restored; and that when, "in our mind's eye," we see the image of some dear departed friend, the retina really revives an image which once fell upon its sensitive surface, and which image has been stored up for many years in the sacred portfolio of its affections!
Another extraordinary assertion is one which comes supported by a degree of authenticity that entitles it to consideration. It is said that the eye of a dead man retains an impression of the last picture that fell upon the faithful retina. Dr. Sandford, of America, examined the eye of a man named Beardley, who had been murdered at Auburn, and he published in the Boston Atlas the following statement:—"At first we suggested the saturation of the eye in a weak solution of atrophine, which evidently produced an enlarged state of the pupil. On observing this, we touched the end of the optic nerve with the extract, when the eye instantly became protuberant. We now applied a powerful lens, and discovered in the pupil, the rude, worn-away figure of a man, with a light coat, beside whom was a round stone, standing or suspended in the air, with a small handle, stuck in the earth. The remainder was debris, evidently lost from the destruction of the optic nerve, and its separation from the mother brain. Had we performed the operation when the eye was entire in the socket, with all its powerful connection with the brain, there is not the least doubt but that we should have detected the last idea and impression made on the mind and eye of the unfortunate man. The picture would evidently be entire; and perhaps we should have had the contour, or better still, the exact figure of the murderer. The last impression on the brain before death is always more terrible from fear than any other cause, and figures impressed on the pupil more distinct, which we attribute to the largeness of the optic nerve, and its free communication with the brain." Whether the supposition, which seems to be supported by the experiment above detailed, be correct or not, it is in no sense more wonderful than the facts which are already known respecting this curious and perfect organ.
"Be not rash with thy mouth, and let not thine heart be hasty to utter anything before God: for God is in heaven, and thou upon earth; therefore let thy words be few."—Ecclesiastes v.