"The Pineal Gland, which many of our Modern Philosophers suppose to be the Seat of the Soul, smelt very strong of Essence and Orange-flower Water, and was encompassed with a kind of Horny Substance, cut into a thousand little Faces or Mirrours, which were imperceptible to the naked Eye, insomuch that the Soul, if there had been any here, must have been always taken up in contemplating her own Beauties."
Spectator, No. 275
See Donald Bond's edition: <u>The Spectator</u>, 5 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1965), ii, 570-3.