TO REV. LEWIS CAMPBELL.
              
              
              
              
              
                                                                              
8 Palace Gardens Terrace, 
                                                                              
Kensington, W, 2lst April 1862.
               
              
              
              
              
              
                   It is now a long time since I
wrote half a
letter to you, but I have never since had time to write or to find the
scrap.   I suppose, as it was more than a good intention, but
less than a perfect act, it may be regarded as destined to  
paper purgatory. This is the season of work to you, when folks visit
shrines
in April and May, but I get holiday this   week. I have been
putting together a large optical box, 10 feet long, containing two
prisms
of bisulphuret of  carbon, the largest yet made in London, five
lenses
and two mirrors, and a set of movable slits. Everything  requires
to be adjusted over and over again if one thing is not quite right
placed,
so I have plenty of trial work to    do before it is
perfect,
but the colours are most splendid. 
              
              
              
              
              
                   I think you asked me once
about Helmholtz and
his philosophy. He is not a philosopher in the exclusive sense,
as  
Kant, Hegel, Mansel are philosophers, but one who prosecutes physics
and
physiology, and acquires therein not  only skill in discovering
any
desideratum, but wisdom to know what are the desiderata, e.g., he was
one
of the   first, and is one of the most active, preachers of
the
doctrine that since all kinds of energy are convertible, the
first  
aim of science at this time should be to ascertain in what way
particular
forms of energy can be converted into 
     each other, and what are the equivalent
quantities
of the two forms of energy. 
              
              
              
              
              
                   The notion is as old as
Descartes (if not Solomon),
and one statement of it was familiar to Lebnitz. It was
wholly  
unknown to Comte, but all sorts of people have worked at it of
late,—Joule
and Thomson for heat and electricals,   Andrews for chemical
combinations, Dr. E. Smith for human food and labour. We can now assert
that the power  of our bodies is generated in the muscles, and is
not conveyed to them by the nerves, but produced during the
transformation
of substances in the muscle, which are supplied fresh by the blood. 
              
              
              
              
              
                   We can also form a rough
estimate of the efficiency
of a man as a mere machine, and find that neither a   perfect
heat engine nor an electric engine could produce so much work and waste
so little in heat. We therefore   save our pains in
investigating
any theories of animal power based on heat and electricity. We see also
that the   soul is not the direct moving force of the body.
If
it were, it would only last till it had done a certain amount
of   
work, like the spring of a watch, which works till it is run down. The
soul is not the mere mover. Food is the   mover, and perishes
in the using, which the soul does not. There is action and reaction
between
body and soul, but 
     it is not of a kind in which energy passes
from the one to the other,—as when a man pulls a trigger it is
the  
gunpowder that projects the bullet, or when a pointsman shunts a train
it is the rails that bear the thrust. But the  constitution of our
nature is not explained by finding out what it is not. It is well that
it will go, and that we remain in   possession, though we do
not understand it. 
              
              
              
              
              
                   Hr. Clausius of Zurich, one
of the heat philosophers,
has been working at the theory of gases being little bodies  
flying about and has found some cases in which he and I don't tally, so
I am working it out again. Several   experimental results
have
turned up lately, rather confirmatory than otherwise of that theory. 
              
              
              
              
              
                   I hope you enjoy the absence
of pupils. I find
that the division of them into smaller classes is a great help to
me  
and to them; but the total oblivion of them for definite intervals is a
necessary condition of doing them justice at the   
proper
time.