is, and the reason was thus explained to me:

Every volition and thought of man is inscribed on his brain; for
volition and thought have their beginnings in the brain, thence
they are conveyed to the bodily members, wherein they terminate.
Whatever, therefore, is in the mind is in the brain, and from the
brain in the body, according to the order of its parts. So a man
writes his life in his physique, and thus the angels discover his
autobiography in his structure.

--_Swedenborg's "Spirit World"_

[Illustration: SWEDENBORG]

A bucolic citizen of East Aurora, on being questioned by a visitor as to
his opinion of a certain literary man, exclaimed: "Smart? Is he smart?
Why, Missus, he writes things nobody can understand!"

This sounds like a paraphrase (but it isn't) of the old lady's remark on
hearing Henry Ward Beecher preach. She went home and said, "I don't
think he is so very great--I understood everything he said!"

Paganini wrote musical scores for the violin, which no violinist has
ever been able to play. Victor Herbert has recently analyzed some of
these compositions and shown that Paganini himself could never have
played them without using four hands and handling two bows at once. So
far, no one can play a duet on the piano; the hand can span only so many
keys, and the attempt of Robert Schumann to improve on Nature by
building an artificial extension to his fingers was vetoed by paralysis
of the members. Two bodies can not occupy the same space at the same
time; mathematics has its limit, for you can not look out of a window
four and a half times. The dictum of Ingersoll that all sticks and
strings have two ends has not yet been disproved; and Herbert Spencer
discovered, for his own satisfaction, fixed limits beyond which the
mind can not travel. His expression, the Unknowable, reminds one of
those old maps wherein vast sections were labeled, Terra Incognita.

If we read Emanuel Swedenborg, we find that these vast stretches in the
domain of thought which Herbert Spencer disposed of as the Unknowable
have been traversed and minutely described. Swedenborg's books are so
learned that even Herbert Spencer could not read them: his scores are so
intricate, his compositions so involved, that no man can play them.

The mystic who sees more than he can explain is universally regarded as
an unsafe and unreliable person. The people who cons