They are called the _spinal nerves_, and each pair supplies the part of the body which lies near the place where it comes out of the cord.
The spinal nerves contain nerve wires of two sorts--the inward, or _sensory_, and the outward, or _motor_, nerves.

The sensory, or ingoing, nerves come from the muscles and the skin and bring messages of heat and cold, of touch and pressure, of pain and comfort, to the spinal cord and brain.

The outward, or motor, nerves running in the same bundle go to the muscles and end in curious little plates on the surface of the tiny muscle fibres, and carry messages from the spinal cord and brain, telling the muscles when and how to contract.
As the spinal cord runs down the body, it becomes gradually smaller, as more and more branches are given off, until finally, just below the small of the back and opposite the hip bones, it breaks up by dividing into a number of large branches which go to supply the hips and lower limbs.
While most of the spinal cord is made up of bundles of white fibres, carrying messages from the body to the brain, its central portion, or core, is made of gray matter.

The reason for this is that many of the simpler messages from the surface of the body and the movements that they require are attended to by this gray matter, or ganglia, of the spinal cord without troubling the brain at all.
For instance, if you were sound asleep, and somebody were to tickle the sole of your bare foot very gently, the nerves of the skin would carry the message to the gray matter of the spinal cord, and it would promptly order the muscles of the leg to contract, and your foot would be drawn away from the tickling finger, without your brain taking any part in the matter, though, if you had been awake, you would of course have known what was going on.
This sort of reply to a stimulus, or "stirring up," without our knowing anything about it, is known as a _reflex_ movement.

Not only are many of these reflexes carried out without any help from the will, or brain, but they are so prompt and powerful that the brain, or will, can hardly stop them if it tries, as, for instance, in the case of tickling the feet.
You can, if you make up your mind to it, prevent yourself from either wriggling, pulling your foot away, or giggling, when the sole of your foot is tickled; but if you happen to be at all "ticklish," it will take all the determination you have to do it, and some children are utterly unable to resist this impulse to squirm when tickled.
This extraordinary power of your reflexes has developed because only the promptest possible response, by jerking your hand away or jumping, will be quick enough to save your life in some accidents or emergencies, when it would take entirely too long to telephone up to the brain and get its decision before jumping.