And yet nothing is more certain than that it is not, and cannot be, in the spot in which I feel it, nor within a couple of feet of that spot. For the skin of the finger is connected by a bundle of fine nervous fibres, which run up the whole length of the arm, with the spinal marrow and brain, and we know that the feeling of pain caused by the prick of a pin is dependent on the integrity of those fibres. After they have been cut through close to the spinal cord, no pain will be felt, whatever injury is done to the finger; and if the ends which remain in connection with the cord be pricked, the pain which arises will appear to have its seat in the finger just as distinctly as before. Nay, if the whole arm be cut off, the pain which arises from pricking the nerve stump will appear to be seated in the fingers, just as if they were still connected with the body. It is perfectly obvious, therefore, that the localization of the pain at the surface of the body is an act of the mind. It is an _extradition_ of that consciousness, which has its seat in the brain, to a definite point of the body--which takes place without our volition, and may give rise to ideas which are contrary to fact. We might call this extradition of consciousness a reflex feeling, just as we speak of a movement which is excited apart from, or contrary to, our volition, as a reflex motion. Locality is no more in the pin than pain is; of the former, as of the latter, it is true that "its being is to be perceived," and that its existence apart from a thinking mind is not conceivable. The foregoing reasoning will be in no way affected, if, instead of pricking the finger, the point of the pin rests gently against it, so as to give rise merely to a tactile sensation. The tactile sensation is referred outwards to the point touched, and seems to exist there. But it is certain that it is not and cannot be there really, because the brain is the sole seat of consciousness; and, further, because evidence, as strong as that in favour of the sensation being in the finger, can be brought forward in support of propositions which are manifestly absurd. For example, the hairs and nails are utterly devoid of sensibility, as everyone knows. Nevertheless, if the ends of the nails or hairs are touched, ever so lightly, we feel that they are touched, and the sensation seems to be situated in the nails or hairs. Nay more, if a walking-stick a yard long is held firmly by the handle and the other end is touched, the tactile sensation, which is a state of our own consciousness, is unhesitatingly referred to the end of the stick; and yet no one will say that it _is_ there.