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of branches; their extremities every where communicating with little round bodies, in the substance of which bodies the secret of the machinery seems to reside, for there the change is made. We can discern pipes laid from these round bodies towards the pelvis, which is a bason within the solid of the kidney. We can discern these pipes joining and collecting together into larger pipes; and when so collected, ending in innumerable papillæ, through which the secreted fluid is continually oozing into its receptacle. This is all we know of the mechanism of a gland, even in the case in which it seems most capable of being investigated. Yet to pronounce that we know nothing of animal secretion, or nothing fatisfactorily, and with that concise remark to dismiss the article from our argument, would be to dispose of the subject very hastily and very irrationally. For the purpose which we want, that of evincing intention, we know a great deal. And what we know is this. We see the blood carried by a pipe, conduit, or duct, to the gland. We see an organized apparatus, be its construction or action what it will, which we call that gland. We see the blood, or part of the blood, after it has passed
through through and undergone the action of the gland, coming/row it by an emulgent vein or artery, i. e. by another pipe or conduit. And we see also, at the fame time, a new and specific fluid issuing from the fame gland by its excretory duct, i. e. by a third pipe or conduit; which new fluid is in some cases discharged out of the body, in more cases re-, tained within it, and there executing some important and intelligible office. Now supposing, or admitting, that we know nothing of the proper internal constitution of a gland, or of the mode of its acting upon the bloodI then our situation is precisely like that of an unmechanical looker-on, who stands by a stocking-loom, a corn-mill, a carding-machine, or a threshing-machine at work, the fabric and mechanism of which, as well as all that passes within, is hidden from his fight by the outside case; or, if seen, would be too complicated for his uninformed, uninstructed understanding to comprehend. And what is that situation? This spectator, ignorant as he is, fees at one end a material enter the machine, as unground grain the mill, raw cotton the carding-machine, sheaves of unthreshed corn the threshing-machine; and,
when when he casts his eye to the other end of the apparatus, he sees the material issuing from it in a new state; and, what is more, in a state manisestly adapted to future uses; the grain in meal fit for the making of bread, the wool in rovings ready for spinning into threads, the sheas in corn dressed for the mill. Is it necessary that this man, in order to be convinced, that design, that intention, that contrivance has been employed about the machine, should be allowed to pull it in pieces; should be enabled to examine the parts separately; explore their action upon one another, or their operation,, whether simultaneous or successive, upon the material which is presented to them i He may long to do this to gratify his curiosity \ he may desire to do it to improve his theoretic knowledge; or he may have a more substantial reason for requesting it, if he happen, instead of a common visitor, to be a mill-wright by prosession, or a person sometimes called; in to repair such-like machines whea» out of order; but, for the purpose of ascertaining; the existence of counsel and design in the formation of the machine, he wants no such intromission or privity. What he sees is suffix cient. The effect upon the material, the
change produced in it, the utility of that change for future applications, abundantly testify, be the concealed part of the machine or of its construction what it will, the hand and agency of a contriver. If any confirmation were wanting to the evidence which the animal secretions afford of design, it may be derived, as hath been already hinted, from their variety, and from their appropriation to their place and use. They all come from the same blood; they are all drawn off by glands; yet the produce is very different, and the difserence exactly adapted to the work which is to be done, or the end to be answered. No account can be given of this without resorting to appointment. Why, for instance, is the faliva, which is diffused over the seat of taste, insipid, whilst so many others of the secretions, the urine, the tears, and the sweat, are salt? Why does the gland within the ear separate a viscid substance, which defends that passage; the gland in the upper angle of the eye, a thin brine, which washes the ball? Why is the synovia of the joints mucilaginous; the bile bitter, stimulating, and soapy? Why does the juice, which flows into the stomach, contain powers, which make that
H bowel, bowel, the great laboratory, as it is by its situation the recipient, of the materials of future nutrition r These are all fair questions; and no answer can be given to them, but what calls in intelligence and intention.
My object in the present chapter has been to teach three things: first, that it is a mistake to suppose, that, in reasoning from the appearances of nature, the impersection of our knowledge proportionably affects the certainty of our conclusion; for in many cases it does not affect it at all: secondly, that the different parts of the animal frame may be classed and distributed, according to the degree of exactness with which we can compare them with works of art: thirdly, that the mechanical parts of our frame, or, those in which this comparison is most complete, although constituting, probably, the coarsest portions of nature's workmanship, are the properest to be alledged as proofs and specimens of design. l ' . .
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