There are some other curious effects produced by hypnotism, in the way of inducing a sort of double consciousness and memory, which makes people in this condition totally forget things which they remember when awake, and remember things which were totally forgotten in the waking state. These and a variety of other instances point to the conclusion that man is only a conscious machine. In other words, that the original impress, to use Dr. Temple’s words, was so perfect that it provided a pre-established harmony not only for the innumerable phenomena of the material universe as unfolded by evolution, but for the still more innumerable phenomena of life in all its manifestations and all its complex relations to outward environment. I say of _life_, for we clearly cannot confine the theory to human life. A dog, who with the two courses before him of doing wrong and chasing a rabbit, or doing right and remaining at his master’s heel, chooses one of them, is in exactly the same position as Hercules between the rival attractions of virtue and pleasure. If Hercules acted as a machine, yielding to the pre-established preponderance of the stronger attraction, so did the dog; but if Hercules exerted free-will and felt the approval or blame of conscience, so did the retriever. There is no fundamental distinction, but merely a question of degree, between human conscience and the shame which a dog feels when it knows that it has done wrong, and the pleasure which it manifests when conscious that it has behaved properly. Shall we thus conclude, as Leibnitz and other great philosophers have done, in favour of the mechanical theory? But if we do, how are we to account for the instinctive ineradicable feeling, which comes home to every one with a conviction even stronger than the evidence of the senses, that we really have a choice between opposite courses, and can decide on our own actions—a conviction which is obviously the foundation of all conscience and of all morality?