Chapter III: Part 3

'_Information_,[6] again, is distinguished from instruction, in relation to the truths conveyed by it. Matters of fact, made known to one who could not have known them before, are called information: instruction elicits new truths out of subject-matter _already_ existing in the mind--(see Whately's _Logic_, book iv. § 1.)

'A traveller gives us information respecting foreign countries; a metaphysician instructs us in the principles of moral science--principles drawn from facts already known to us. The two processes may take place at the same time: a child in learning a lesson receives both information and instruction: he is taught things he never knew before, and also taught to apply and make use of what he does know already. In fact, pure mathematics is the only branch of instruction which includes no information, as the propositions are all based on principles previously assumed. In short, a person who is informed, _knows_ something he did not before; one who is instructed, _understands_ something he did not before; one who is taught, can _do_ something he could not do before.

'Education is more comprehensive than any of the other words before us. It includes the _whole course_ of moral and intellectual teaching. One who gives occasional lessons is not said to _educate_. To _educate_ (agreeably to its derivation, from "e-duco," not "in-duco"), includes the _drawing out_ of the faculties, so as to teach the pupil how to teach him_self_; which is one of the most valuable of arts.

'Moral training, considered _by itself_, is called "teaching;" this constitutes no exception to the rule laid down, as its object is to enable us, not to _know_, but to _do_ what is right.'--(P. 32-34.)

'Few words, perhaps, are more apt to be misapplied than the string of adjectives treated of in the section next quoted--namely, _benevolent, beneficent, charitable, munificent, liberal, bountiful, philanthropic_.

'Benevolent and beneficent, together with their conjugates, have curiously diverged from their original meaning. Etymologically, "benevolent" implied merely _wishing_ well to others, and "beneficent" _doing_ well; _now_, "benevolent" includes both kinds of feelings and actions, and "beneficent" is restricted to acts of kindness on a great scale, and generally performed by some one of exalted station and character: hence, we speak of the "beneficence" rather than the "benevolence" of the Creator. It may perhaps be said to follow from this, that "benevolent" draws our attention more to the character of the agent; "beneficent," to that of the act performed--retaining, so far, a tinge of their etymology.

'"Charitable" (when not used in reference to a mild and candid judgment of others) seems to be restricted to one kind of benevolence--that which consists in alms-giving.

'"Munificent" resembles "beneficent," in referring always to favours on a large scale, and conferred by superiors; but there is this important difference, that "beneficent" always implies some real and essential good done, while "munificent," as its derivation implies, may be applied equally to any _gift_, whether really useful or not. One who makes a present of jewellery or pictures to a friend, is munificent, but would not be called "beneficent." If he raised a distressed family from starvation, the word "beneficent" would be more appropriate. But one who gives largely to the public, or to some institution, is called munificent. It seems to convey the idea of splendour. No one can be called munificent who does not give on a large scale.

'Any one who is ready to give _freely_, as the etymology implies, on whatever scale, is "liberal." "Bountiful," again, is stronger than "liberal," and implies giving in abundance; it also differs from "liberal" in being restricted to _giving_; while "liberal" is applied to an easy style of expenditure in general; to the reverse, in short, of "stingy," or "miserly." Many people live in a _liberal_ style, who are very far from being "bountiful." Bountiful always seems to imply, giving out of an ample store.

'"Philanthropic," as its etymology indicates, implies benevolence solely in reference to the _human race_, and always to masses, not to individuals. One who devises some plan to benefit numbers, is called "philanthropic;" but we should not talk of "philanthropically giving a loaf to a hungry child."'--(P. 83-85.)

As space is beginning to press, our last extract must be short: it relates to words often enough employed indiscriminately--_imagination, conception, fancy_. '"Imagination" and "fancy" are frequently confounded together, but are, nevertheless, very distinct in their signification. In the first place, "imagination" implies more of a _creative_ power than "fancy;" it requires a greater combination of various powers, and is therefore a higher exercise of genius. "Fancy," on the other hand, is more an employment of ingenuity and taste, though it also requires inventive power. Secondly, "imagination" implies a longer flight; "fancy," rather a succession of short efforts: the one is a steady blaze; the other, a series of sparkles. An epic poem would require an exercise of the first; a ballad, or other lighter production, of the last: hence, we may see that the difference between the two is, in some measure, one of subject-matter; for the same power which we call "fancy" when employed in a melody of Moore, would be called "imagination" in the works of Dante or Milton. In short, the efforts of "fancy" bear the same relation to those of "imagination" that the carving and polishing of a gem or seal does to sculpture.

'In the third place, _wit_ may come into works of "fancy," and could not be admitted into the province of "imagination." The same with what are called _conceits_.

'"Conception" has something in common with imagination, but it implies more decidedly a creative power, and is referred to something tangible and real; whereas, in efforts of fancy and imagination, there is always a consciousness of unreality. The province of "conception" is that which has a real existence: hence, the productions of painters, sculptors, and musicians, are called "conceptions." "Conception" also denotes something framed and originated in our _own_ mind; whereas the imagination or fancy may be acted on merely from without. The poet or writer of fiction exercises his own conceptions, but awakens the imagination of his readers.'

These quotations will give as general a notion of the work as can be conveyed by a few extracts. To those among our readers who may be in quest of such a book, we can decidedly recommend it as one that is certain to be useful. It is by far the best of the kind that we have ever happened to meet with; and we think that if it were universally studied and consulted, the result would be a great improvement of expression, both in common speech and literature.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] See _Guesses at Truth_. First series.

[4] _A Selection of English Synonyms_. Second Edition. Parker, London: 1852.

[5] See Whately's _Logic_, book iv., chap. 3, § 1, in which the above is illustrated by the difference between the road from London to York and the road from York to London.

[6] The nouns are used here instead of the verbs for convenience sake, as they precisely correspond.

'CHAPTER ON CATS.'

In No. 419 of this Journal, an article with the above heading mentions among the exports from New York to New Granada 100 _cats_. Wherever our contributor may have picked up his intelligence, the original source is the _New York Herald_; but, unluckily, a paper of a more practical character--if we may judge from its title--_The Dry-Goods Reporter_, gives the custom-house entry in full, in which the change of a single vowel makes a prodigious difference. The entry is this: '100 _cots_--125 dollars--to Granada.'

A MARINER'S WIFE.

'Ah me, my dream!' pale Helen cried,
With hectic cheeks aglow:
'Why wake me? Hide that cruel beam!
I'll not win such another dream
On this side heaven, I know.

'I almost feel the leaping waves,
The wet spray on my hair,
The salt breeze singing in the sail,
The kind arms, strong as iron-mail,
That held me safely there.

'I'll tell thee:--On some shore I stood,
Or sea, or inland bay,
Or river broad, I know not--save
There seemed no boundary to the wave
That chafed and moaned alway.

'The shore was lone--the wave was lone--
The horizon lone; no sail
Broke the dim line 'twixt sea and sky,
Till slowly, slowly one came by,
Half ghostlike, gray and pale.

'It was a very little boat,
Had neither oars nor crew;
But as it shoreward bounded fast,
One form seemed leaning by the mast--
And Norman's face I knew!

'He never looked nor smiled at me,
Though I stood there alone;
His brow was very grave and high,
Lit with a glory from the sky--
The wild bark bounded on.

'I shrieked: "Oh, take me--take me, love!
The night is falling dread."--
"My boat may come no nearer shore;
And, hark! how mad the billows roar!
Art thou afraid?" he said.

'"Afraid! with thee?"--"The wind sweeps fierce
The foamy rocks among;
A perilous voyage waiteth me."--
"Then, then, indeed, I go with thee,"
I cried, and forward sprung.

'All drenched with brine, all pale with fear--
Ah no, not fear; 'twas bliss!--
I felt the strong arms draw me in:
If after death to heaven I win,
'Twill be such joy as this!

'No kiss, no smile, but aye that clasp--
Tender, and close, and brave;
While, like a tortured thing, upleapt
The boat, and o'er her deck there swept
Wave thundering after wave.

'I looked not to the stormy deep,
Nor to the angry sky;
Whether for life or death we wrought,
My whole world dwindled to one thought--
_Where he is, there am I_!

'On--on--through leaping waves, slow calmed,
With salt spray on our hair,
And breezes singing in the sail,
Before a safe and pleasant gale,
The boat went bounding fair:

'But whether to a shore we came,
Or seaward sailed away,
Alas! to me is all unknown:
O happy dream, too quickly flown!
O cruel, cruel day!'

Pale Helen lived--or died: dull time
O'er all that history rolls;
Sailed they or sunk they on life's waves?--
I only know earth holds two graves,
And heaven two blessed souls.

REMITTANCES TO AND FROM EMIGRANTS.

Within the past few years, a system of foreign exchanges has been perfected in this country, by which the smallest sum of money can be remitted either way across the Atlantic, with perfect security and the greatest dispatch. Drafts are drawn as low as 1s. sterling, which are cashed in any part of Great Britain or the United States. This, to emigrants who wish to bring over their money without fear of loss, or to residents here who wish to remit small sums to their relatives or friends in Europe, to enable them to come to this country, is of vast importance, as it guarantees them against loss; that is, when the drafts are good. This is, therefore, the great point at issue. To obtain drafts of undoubted credit and security is the first thing to be considered. There are dozens of drawers on both sides of the Atlantic, all of whom have their friends, who place more or less confidence in the character of the bills drawn. We have no doubt they are all sound and solvent. We know nothing now to the contrary. The drafts can be obtained in any city in the Union, for any amount, from 1s. sterling upwards, drawn upon some place in Europe; and drafts can be obtained in various European cities payable in any city of the United States.--_Abridged from the New York Herald._

FOREST-TREES.

In contemplating the length of life of one of the reverend and hoary elders of the forest, we are apt to forget that it is not to be measured by the standard of man or of the higher animals; for it is really not the measure of an individual existence, but, as it were, of the duration of an empire or a nation. A tree is a populous community, presided over by an oligarchy, of which the flowers are the aristocracy, and the leaves the working-classes. The life of the individual members of the commonwealth is brief enough, but the state of which they are members, has often a vast duration; and some of those whose ages we have referred to, could they take cognisance of human affairs, would look with contempt upon the instability and irregularity of human governments and states, as compared with the unchanging order and security of their own.--_Professor Forbes in Art-Journal._

WHISKY AND MISERY.

Whisky and misery, whichever be cause, whichever be effect, always go together. There has been, as is well known, a failure of the potato-crop, and consequently a famine, in the West Highlands and Hebrides. In the island of Mull, about L.3000 of money raised in charity was spent in the year ending October 10, 1848, for the eleemosynary support of the people. In the same space of time, the expenditure of the people on whisky was L.6009! We do not know how much had previously been spent on whisky in that island; but we may judge from the fact ascertained regarding Skye. In the year ending October 10, 1850, the sum paid in the latter island for whisky was L.10,855--considerably more than _double the amount expended in relief by the Destitution Fund_, and _more than double the consumption of the same district in 1845_, the year before the distress commenced! 'That is,' says the _Quarterly Review_, which quotes the facts from excellent authority, 'the increased consumption of whisky exactly tallies with the extraneous aid received; in other words, the whole amount of charitable assistance _went in whisky_!'

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End of Project Gutenberg's Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 427, by Various