"It was said of Hannibal, that he wanted nothing to the completion of his martial virtues, but that when he had gained a victory he should know how to use it." It unfortunately happens, that men, in their literary pursuits, resemble too often, in this respect, the Carthaginian General. It is not uncommon for those who, at their first entrance on their studies, or into the world, were distinguished for their abilities and their ardour, to disappoint the hopes which they had raised, and to end in neglect and obscurity that life which they began in celebrity and honour. Such a change as this, as well as indolence in general, in those whose duty it is to put forth all their energies, must, I fear, be traced to the influence of improper motives in the outset, or at least to the absence of such as are powerful and efficient. "These errors," says Johnson, "all arise from an original mistake of the true motives of action. He that never extends his view beyond the praises or rewards of men, will be dejected by neglect and envy, or infatuated by honours and applause. But the consideration that life is only deposited in his hands to be employed in obedience to a master who will regard his endeavours, not his successes, would have preserved him from trivial elations and discouragements, and enabled him to proceed with constancy and cheerfulness, neither enervated by commendation, nor intimidated by censure."

I know not how I can better conclude these observations, than in the words of that memorable answer which Sir Isaac Newton gave to the illustrious foreigner who complimented him on the greatness of

his genius, and the wonderful extent of his discoveries. "Indeed, sir, you are in a mistake on both points; the objects are, indeed, vast and magnificent, and therefore I made a choice fortunate for my reputation; but they are comprehensible by the most ordinary genius, if he will take my method,-never to hurry. If I have any advantages over other naturalists, it is only in a more patient thinking, in which I perhaps exceed many of them. To this I am indebted for all my success."

The man who distinguishes himself from others, stands in a press of people: those before him intercept his progress; and those behind him, if he does not urge on, will tread him down. He is the man who is most likely to rise to eminence, and to benefit mankind by his labours, to whom the language of the poet is applicable

"Nil actum reputans si quid superesset agendum."

CHAPTER III.

EXPLANATORY OBSERVATIONS,

THE habit of attaching definite notions to our words is of the first importance to clearness of thought. This is a fact which has been the subject of remark in every age; an while its importance to the progress of science is universally allowed, it is peculiarly felt in studying the operations of mind. From the constitution of our nature, we are long familiar with the

objects of sense before we begin to reflect on what we feel; and when we do begin to reflect, we attempt an explanation of the phenomena of mind by analologies derived from the phenomena of matter; and in consequence of this application we transfer the language of that which we already know to denote the processes of a substance altogether dissimilar, and which comparatively we do not know. This circumstance renders it the more necessary for us carefully to ascertain the notions which metaphysicians affix to their words; to use these words ourselves as nearly as possible in the same acceptation; and to have clear ideas of the things which our expressions are employed to denote.

"The sure and only way," says Locke in his Conduct of the Understanding, "to get true knowledge, is to form in our minds clear and settled notions of things, with names annexed to those determined ideas. These we are to consider, and with their several relations and habitudes, and not amuse ourselves with floating names, and words of indetermined signification, which we can use in several senses to serve a turn. It is in the perception of the habitudes and respects which our ideas have one to another that real knowledge consists; and when a man once perceives how far they agree, and how far they disagree one with another, he will be able to judge of what other people say, and will not need to be led by the arguments of others, which are many of them nothing but plausible sophistry. This will teach him to state the question right, and see whereon it turns; and thus he will stand upon his own legs, and know by his own un

derstanding. Whereas, by collecting and learning arguments by heart, he will be but a retainer to others; and when any one questions the foundations they are built on, he will be at a non-plus, and be fain to give his implicit knowledge."

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It often happens that the names which have been employed to denote certain phenomena either of mind or of matter, from their having been employed at a time when erroneous views of these phenomena were entertained, contain within themselves, and transmit to posterity, the errors of other ages. There is no science from which we might not derive examples to illustrate this position. In astronomy, the philosopher, in conformity with popular language, must still speak of the rising and setting of the sun; and in metaphysics, we are obliged to use many words connected with theories long since exploded. Such terms may be employed without any inconvenience, when they no longer convey the notions of which alone they were originally expressive, and are used in a new and restricted acceptation. This period, however, does not arrive till science makes considerable advances; and, in the Philosophy of Mind, owing to certain peculiarities to which I have in part alluded, the difficulties of establishing a correct and unambiguous phraseology are greater than in any other branch of human knowledge. We must, therefore, employ a proportionably greater degree of care and industry in analyzing the words which we use, in ascertaining not only their received acceptation, but in always affixing to them the same precise and definite meaning.

The want of a copious diction to express the dif

ferent operations of mind has been the subject of common remark. It cannot, indeed, be thought that the infinitely various and evanescent affections of which we are conscious can be in any adequate degree expressed by language, since words, in every case, are but imperfect symbols of our internal feelings and operations; they often convey to the understanding of another our meaning indistinctly, by seeming to denote either too much or too little, or by awakening ideas not immediately connected with those which it is our object to excite. For that state of the mind in which it is affected with the feeling or emotion of love, we have a specific term,-by the aid of some qualifying epithet we can even define some of its modifications; but how many varied aspects does it assume, and how numerous are the degrees of intenseness by which it is really characterized, for which there are no words in any language? The same remark holds true of all the other affections of the mind; human speech, in its most perfect form, and when used in its most definite acceptations, can give but an incomplete view of their diversified changes and combinations; they can only give, as it were, their leading outlines and classifications: the varied feelings and trains of thought that mark the intellectual history of one individual, even for one day, are only fully known to the omniscience of Him who sees through the foldings of the heart, and who understandeth our thoughts afar off.

I offer these remarks, with a view of exciting attention to the very great importance of an accurate examination of language; especially of the words which