pains of privation of exercise, and the pains of extreme fatigue. In early life, when all the muscles, as well as the senses, are fresh, the muscular organs are very largely connected both with enjoyment and with suffering. To accord full scope to the activity of the fresh organs is a gratification that may take the form of a rich reward; to refuse this scope is the infliction of misery; to compel exercise beyond the limits of the powers is still greater misery. Our penal discipline adopts the two forms of pain: in the milder treatment of the young, the irksomeness of restraint; in the severe methods with the full-grown, the torture of fatigue.
Again, the nervous system is subject to organic depression; and certain of our pains are due to this cause. The well-known state denominated "tedium" is nervous uneasiness; and is caused by undue exercise of any portion of the nervous system. In its extreme forms it is intolerable wretchedness. It is the suffering caused by penal impositions or tasks, by confinement, and by monotony of all kinds. The acute sufferings of the nervous system, as growing out of natural causes, are represented by neuralgic pains. It is in graduated artificial inflictions, operating directly on the nerves by means of electricity, that we may look for the physical punishments of the future, that are to displace floggings and muscular torture.
The interests of nourishment, as against privation of food, are necessarily bound up with a large volume of enjoyment and suffering. Starvation, deficiency and inferiority of food, are connected with depression and misery of the severest kind; inspiring the dread that most effectually stimulates human beings to work, to beg, or to steal. The obverse condition of a rich and abundant diet is in itself an almost sufficient basis of enjoyment. The play of motives between those extremes enables us to put forth an extensive sway over human conduct.
An instructive distinction may be made between privation and hunger; likewise between their opposites. Privation is the positive deficiency of nourishing material in the blood; hunger is the craving of the stomach at its usual times of being supplied, and is a local sensibility, perhaps very acute, but not marked by the profound wretchedness of inanition. There may be plenty of material to go on with, although we are suffering from stomachic hunger. Punishing, for once, by the loss of a meal out of the three or four in the day, is unimportant as regards the general vigor, yet very telling as a motive. Absolutely to diminish the available nutriment of the system is a measure of great severity; to inflict a pending hunger is not the same thing.
When we unite the acute pleasures of the palate with stomachic relish and the exhilaration of abundance of food-material in a healthy frame, we count up a large mass of pleasurable sensibility. Between the lowest demands of subsistence and the highest luxuries of affluent means there is a great range, available as an instrumentality of control in the discipline of the young. The usual regimen being something