The author of the pamphlet alluded to by Brewster, mentions it,
      but acknowledges his inability to account for it. Yet it is
      obviously from such prominent discrepancies or incongruities as
      this that deductions are to be made (if made at all) which shall
      lead us to the truth. The circumstance of the Automaton’s playing with his left hand
      cannot have connexion with the operations of the machine,
      considered merely as such. Any mechanical arrangement which would
      cause the figure to move, in any given manner, the left
      arm—could, if reversed, cause it to move, in the same manner, the
      right. But these principles cannot be extended to the human
      organization, wherein there is a marked and radical difference in
      the construction, and, at all events, in the powers, of the right
      and left arms. Reflecting upon this latter fact, we naturally
      refer the incongruity noticeable in the Chess-Player to this
      peculiarity in the human organization. If so, we must imagine
      some _reversion—_for the Chess-Player plays precisely as a man
      _would not. _These ideas, once entertained, are sufficient of
      themselves, to suggest the notion of a man in the interior. A few
      more imperceptible steps lead us, finally, to the result. The
      Automaton plays with his left arm, because under no other
      circumstances could the man within play with his right—a
      _desideratum _of course. Let us, for example, imagine the
      Automaton to play with his right arm. To reach the machinery
      which moves the arm, and which we have before explained to lie
      just beneath the shoulder, it would be necessary for the man
      within either to use his right arm in an exceedingly painful and
      awkward position, (viz. brought up close to his body and tightly
      compressed between his body and the side of the Automaton,) or
      else to use his left arm brought across his breast. In neither
      case could he act with the requisite ease or precision. On the
      contrary, the Automaton playing, as it actually does, with the
      left arm, all difficulties vanish. The right arm of the man
      within is brought across his breast, and his right fingers act,
      without any constraint, upon the machinery in the shoulder of the
      figure. We do not believe that any reasonable objections can be urged
      against this solution of the Automaton Chess-Player. THE POWER OF WORDS


      OINOS. Pardon, Agathos, the weakness of a spirit new-fledged with
      immortality! AGATHOS. You have spoken nothing, my Oinos, for which pardon is
      to be demanded. Not even here is knowledge a thing of intuition. For wisdom, ask of the angels freely, that it may be given! OINOS. But in this existence, I dreamed that I should be at once
      cognizant of all things, and thus at once be happy in being
      cognizant of all. AGATHOS. Ah, not in knowledge is happiness, but in the
      acquisition of knowledge! In for ever knowing, we are for ever
      blessed; but to know all were the curse of a fiend. OINOS. But does not The Most High know all? AGATHOS. That (since he is The Most Happy) must be still the one
      thing unknown even to Him. OINOS. But, since we grow hourly in knowledge, must not at last
      all things be known? AGATHOS. Look down into the abysmal distances!—attempt to force
      the gaze down the multitudinous vistas of the stars, as we sweep
      slowly through them thus—and thus—and thus! Even the spiritual
      vision, is it not at all points arrested by the continuous golden
      walls of the universe?—the walls of the myriads of the shining
      bodies that mere number has appeared to blend into unity? OINOS. I clearly perceive that the infinity of matter is no
      dream. AGATHOS. There are _no_ dreams in Aidenn—but it is here whispered
      that, of this infinity of matter, the _sole_ purpose is to afford
      infinite springs, at which the soul may allay the thirst _to
      know_, which is for ever unquenchable within it—since to quench
      it, would be to extinguish the soul’s self. Question me then, my
      Oinos, freely and without fear. Come! we will leave to the left
      the loud harmony of the Pleiades, and swoop outward from the
      throne into the starry meadows beyond Orion, where, for pansies
      and violets, and heart’s-ease, are the beds of the triplicate and
      triple-tinted suns. OINOS. And now, Agathos, as we proceed, instruct me!—speak to me
      in the earth’s familiar tones. I understand not what you hinted
      to me, just now, of the modes or of the method of what, during
      mortality, we were accustomed to call Creation. Do you mean to
      say that the Creator is not God? AGATHOS. I mean to say that the Deity does not create. OINOS. Explain. AGATHOS. In the beginning only, he created. The seeming creatures
      which are now, throughout the universe, so perpetually springing
      into being, can only be considered as the mediate or indirect,
      not as the direct or immediate results of the Divine creative
      power. OINOS. Among men, my Agathos, this idea would be considered
      heretical in the extreme. AGATHOS. Among angels, my Oinos, it is seen to be simply true. OINOS. I can comprehend you thus far—that certain operations of
      what we term Nature, or the natural laws, will, under certain
      conditions, give rise to that which has all the _appearance_ of
      creation. Shortly before the final overthrow of the earth, there
      were, I well remember, many very successful experiments in what
      some philosophers were weak enough to denominate the creation of
      animalculæ. AGATHOS. The cases of which you speak were, in fact, instances of
      the secondary creation—and of the only species of creation which
      has ever been, since the first word spoke into existence the
      first law. OINOS. Are not the starry worlds that, from the abyss of
      nonentity, burst hourly forth into the heavens—are not these
      stars, Agathos, the immediate handiwork of the King? AGATHOS. Let me endeavor, my Oinos, to lead you, step by step, to
      the conception I intend. You are well aware that, as no thought
      can perish, so no act is without infinite result. We moved our
      hands, for example, when we were dwellers on the earth, and, in
      so doing, gave vibration to the atmosphere which engirdled it. This vibration was indefinitely extended, till it gave impulse to
      every particle of the earth’s air, which thenceforward, and for
      ever, was actuated by the one movement of the hand. This fact the
      mathematicians of our globe well knew.