This extraordinary power of your reflexes has developed because only the promptest possible response, by jerking your hand away or jumping, will be quick enough to save your life in some accidents or emergencies, when it would take entirely too long to telephone up to the brain and get its decision before jumping. When you are badly frightened, you often jump first and discover that you are frightened afterwards; and this jump, under certain circumstances, may save your life. On the other hand, like all instinctive or impulsive movements, it may get you into more trouble than if you had kept still.

As you will see by the picture, the spinal nerves, which are given off from the cord in the lower part of the neck and between the shoulder blades, are gathered together into a great loose bundle to form the long nerve-wires needed to supply the shoulders and arms. Those given off from the small of the back just above the hips also run together to form, first a network and then a big single nerve-cord, called the sciatic nerve, which many of you have probably heard of from the frightfully painful disease due to an inflammation of it, called sciatica. It is the largest nerve-cord in the body, running down the middle of the back of the thigh to supply the muscles of two-thirds of the leg.[26]

The substance of both the spinal cord and the brain is made up of millions of delicate, tiny cells, called neurons, most of which, with very long branches, are arranged in chains for carrying messages, forming the white matter; while the others lie in groups, or ganglia, for sorting and deciding upon messages, forming the gray matter.

Just at the top of the spinal cord, where it passes into the skull and joins with the brain, it swells out into a sort of knob, about the size of a queen olive or the head of a gold-headed cane, which is known as the medulla, or "pith." This is the most vital single part of the entire brain and nervous system; and the smallest direct injury to it will produce instant death, partly because all the messages which pass between the brain and the body have to go through it, and partly because in it are situated the centres which control breathing and the beat of the heart, and another quite important but less vital centre,—that for swallowing.

How Messages are Received and Sent. Now to learn how smoothly and beautifully this nerve telephone system of ours works, and how simple it really is, although it has such a large number of lines and so many telephones on each line, and such a large central exchange, let us see how it deals with a message from the outside world. Suppose you are running barefoot and step on a thorn. Instantly the tiny nerve bulbs in the skin of the sole of your foot are stimulated, or set in vibration, and they send these vibrations up the sciatic nerve, into and up the whole length of the spinal cord, through the medulla, which switches them over to the other side of the brain up through the brain stalk, and out to the part of the surface (cortex) of the brain which controls the movements of the foot. All this takes only a fraction of a second, but it is not until the message reaches the brain-surface that you feel pain. If you were to cut the sciatic nerve, or even tie a string tightly around it, you could prick or burn the sole of your foot as much as you pleased, and you would not feel any pain at all.

As soon as the surface of the brain has recognized the pain and where it comes from, it promptly sends a return message back down the same cable, though by different nerve-wires, to the muscles of the foot and leg, saying, "Jerk that foot away!" As a matter of fact, this message will arrive too late, for the centres in the spinal cord will already have attended to this part of the matter, often almost before you know that you are hurt.

However, there is plenty of other work for the brain to do; and its next step, quicker than you can think, is to wake up a dozen muscles all over the body with the order, "Sit down!" And you promptly sit down. At the same time, the brain "central" has ordered the muscles of your arms and hands to reach down and pick up the foot, partly to protect it from any further scratch, and partly to pull the thorn out of it. Next it rushes a hurry call to the muscles controlling your lungs and throat, and says, "Howl!" and you howl accordingly. Another jab at the switchboard, and the eyes are called up and ordered to weep, while at the same time the muscles of the trunk of your body are set in rhythmic movement by another message, and you rock yourself backward and forward.

This weeping and rocking yourself backward and forward and nursing your foot seem rather foolish,—indeed you have perhaps often been told that they are both foolish and babyish,—but, as you say, you "can't help it," and there is a good reason for it. The howl is a call for help; and if the hurt were due to the bite of a wolf or a bear, or the cut had gone deep enough to open an artery, this dreadfully unmusical noise might be the means of saving your life; while the rocking backward and forward and jerking yourself about would also send a message that you needed help, supposing you were so badly hurt that you couldn't call out, to anyone who happened to be within sight of you. So that it isn't entirely babyish and foolish to howl and squirm about when you are hurt—though it is manly to keep both within reasonable limits.

If the message about the thorn had been brought by your eyes,—in other words, if you had seen it before you stepped on it,—then a similar but much simpler and less painful reflex would have been carried out. The image of the thorn would fall on the retina of the eye and through its optic nerve the message would be flashed to the brain: "There is something slim and sharp in the path,—looks like a thorn." When this message reached the brain, and not till then, would you see the thorn, just as in the case of the pain message from the foot. Then the brain would take charge of the situation just as before, flashing a hasty message to the muscles of the legs, saying, "Jump!" while its message to the throat and lungs, instead of "Yell," would be merely, "Say, 'Goodness!' or 'Whew!'" and you would say it and run on.