Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 427

At the time of our visit, the establishment contained about sixty inmates. We felt a peculiar interest in visiting the room of probation. There had been four youths in it in the morning; but one had withdrawn, not being able to stand the severity of the test. The three remaining youths stood up in their wretched attire, and we questioned them in succession. They had all been thieves, and all of them had passed through several convictions—one through no less than twenty-two. We asked this last youth how he had come to think of retreating to the Colonial Training-School. He said, that he knew he could not go on much longer without being transported: he dreaded this fate. Some companions who had been in the school, but deserted it, told him of it. They praised the institution, as one where every kindness was shewn to unfortunate youths, notwithstanding that they had themselves proved unworthy of its benefits. He therefore came, determined to suffer whatever might be inflicted upon him, rather than go back to his wicked courses. We learned that he had been for several years a pickpocket, residing in a low lodging-house at 1s. 9d. a week; sometimes well off, sometimes otherwise, but always harassed by the terrors of punishment. According to his account of the boys who live in this manner, there are some who enjoy its freedom, and would not abandon it; but there are many who would much rather turn from it, if an opportunity were afforded them. We afterwards spent some time in the school-room amongst the boys; heard them sing a hymn, and, at the request of the governor, addressed a few words to them, chiefly suggestive of hope respecting their future career. During the whole time, their behaviour was marked by perfect propriety; we did not observe even an indecorous look in the whole company.

We bade adieu to Mr Nash, with a deep sense of his heroic philanthropy, and of the value of the lesson which he is giving as to the means of reclaiming the desert places of society. As far as the funds supplied to him permit, he is transforming the juvenile delinquents of the London streets into respectable citizens, having already redeemed a hundred and fifty-six, and either provided for them in England, or despatched them to the colonies. One may well suppose, that in the process of reformation much must depend upon the special character of the person who exercises the reforming discipline. A mere routine of school exercises, of scripture readings, of hymn singings, would go little way with minds so vitiated by bad habits, if there were not a particular effort made by the disciplinarian to make all work thoroughly into the moral nature of the pupils, so as to produce a real renewal of feeling and spirit. Even to rouse the unfortunate being from the idea with which he is apt to start, that he is only called upon to enter on a new career which will be better for him in a worldly point of view, and to elevate him to the superior and only vitally serviceable idea, that he must love goodness for its own sake, and for the love of the Author of all goodness, is no light task. We can, therefore, imagine scarcely any position calling for a more peculiar combination of qualities than that of the conductor of this extraordinary seminary. It is a strong testimony to the suitableness of Mr Nash for his functions, that they were entered upon under the impulse of his own mind. We have further proof of it in the good effects of his teaching, for the histories of many young men who have passed through his hands can be traced from authentic documents. One who emigrated to the United States so lately as March 1850, already reports that he is earning there L.3, 12s. per week, and has just married a young woman who had saved 300 dollars; another of his pupils is now acting as a missionary in Australia. They write to their former governor in the most grateful terms, and with strong expressions of hope regarding their own future. It is interesting to think of all this good being done by individual exertion and self-devotion. No government interferes: there is no certain fund to be depended on. A simple man, sensible of humane obligations towards the unfortunate, comes forward and puts himself in direct intercourse with them. They might mistake the views of a government, or of a set of parish authorities; they might lean unduly upon any formally-appointed fund. They cannot mistake the designs of a mere human being like themselves, or become spoiled by indulgence in so poor a retreat. The gratitude due by society to such a man is incalculable.

It is gratifying to think that Mr Nash does not stand alone in his disinterested course. There is a Mr Ellis, a shoemaker in Albany Street, Regent's Park, who, under the impulse of religious feeling for the unfortunate, has taken a number of delinquents into his care, with a view to reforming them. Four years ago, he began with two, to whom he assigned certain rations. The first movement was an act of self-denial on their part. In order to secure the admission of a companion, who could not otherwise have been provided for, they agreed that their rations should be divided with him; and on these terms he was admitted. Soon after, the number was increased to fifteen; and with this number Mr Ellis has gone on most successfully. The boys have been industrious, and only one has been guilty of any offence. The prosperous man of the world, who thinks himself entitled to use all his own for his own sole gratification, will hear of these things with incredulity, and pity Ellis and Nash as enthusiasts, who foolishly sacrifice themselves for a whim; but we greatly doubt if the worldling's proudest or most luxurious hour gives one-half the true satisfaction which these men enjoy in the midst of their ragged adherents, under the blessed hope of rescuing them from destruction in this world and the next.

The subject of juvenile delinquency is beginning to attract a good deal of attention, for it is now clearly seen that the root of most of the predatory crime by which the country is afflicted lies here, and till the root is struck at, the branches will continue to flourish. It appears that for some years the number of juvenile criminals has been on the increase; auguring, of course, an ultimate increase in the number of adult offenders. Some vigorous measure for the reduction of juvenile delinquency is felt to be now required. Amidst all the alarms which it is exciting, and amidst the expressions of hopelessness which we often hear from those who give little attention to the subject, it is gratifying to find, that there are some glimpses of what appears to be the right course to be taken. First, one great point is very clearly established—that it really is possible to reclaim juvenile criminals. It cannot, however, be done by punishments of any kind. It is to be done by kindness, religious influence, and industrial occupation, along with the holding forth of a hope of transition into a better course of life. Those who may be incredulous on this point, had better acquaint themselves with the facts of the case. It is too little known, that there has been a society at work for the last sixty years in England, for the reform of juvenile offenders. It has a farm at Red Hill, near Reigate, from which about forty youths go out every year to agricultural labour and humble trades, in which the great bulk of them do well. The similar institution at Mettray, near Tours, produces similar results on a greater scale. And the simple truth at the bottom of the whole affair is, that young thieves are, in general, deserted or orphan children, or children driven forth to destitution by vicious parents: criminal through circumstances, and finding no true happiness in their wicked kind of life, a large proportion of them desire to reform, and will suffer not a little in order to obtain admission to respectable society.

It has lately been shewn, that society has a strong interest of a pecuniary nature in the reformation of juvenile delinquents. A boy or youth continually going about as a pickpocket or petty larcenist, is a destructive animal of somewhat formidable character. To get quit of him at last by transportation, costs at the least calculation L.150. Now, he can be put through the twelvemonth's course of reformation in such a school as that which we have described, and deported as a free emigrant to Australia (where he is welcomed), for L.25. Thus, even in an economical light, the reforming of the youth is a great gain. Magistrates are everywhere impressed with the hopelessness of a mere judicial treatment of these hapless children. They come back to the dock at almost regular intervals; severity is of no avail with a poor wretch who, on being discharged from jail, finds all honest employment denied to him. It is by reform alone that we can rid ourselves of this moral pest, by which our country is disgraced.

There is but one difficulty in the case, and that is one involving profound social questions. Shall we see criminal children taken care of, and treated kindly, while many of the children of the honest poor are so ill off? Shall we not, by taking these children under our care, and so relieving parents and others of their responsibility towards them, sap the principles of the industrious poor, leading them to desert or cast off their children, whom they will now be sure of seeing cared for by others? We must admit that there is much force in these queries; but it would be wrong to allow them altogether to deter us, where the reasons on the other side are so urgent. It may be possible, by keeping to such individual efforts as those of Mr Nash, or to those of little unobtrusive societies, to prevent much of the evil apprehended. And it may also be practicable, as we find is proposed, to arrange that there shall be a legal claim upon parents for the expenses incurred in reforming their criminal offspring. Thus none who are not themselves destitute, could safely leave their children to the chances of a criminal life. It is also most desirable, that the state should limit its interference to grants of money in proportion to the sums advanced by private or local effort, and to the enforcing of a law for the detention of vagrant and criminal children where it may be necessary. Under such precautions, we think most of the advantages might be obtained, with a much less admixture of evil than many would now be disposed to expect.[1 - The reader will find excellent matter on this subject in Mary Carpenter's recent volume on Reformatory Schools, and in a 'Report of the Proceedings of a Conference on the Subject of Preventive and Reformatory Schools, held at Birmingham on the 9th and 10th of December 1851.']

'MEN OF THE TIME.'

A neat little volume, well filled with information, has made its appearance under this title;[2 - Bogue, London: 1852.] the object being to present sketches of living notables—men who, in their several walks of life, tread in advance of the general multitude in this and other countries; and from whose actions we may learn the character and aims of the passing era. The idea of gathering together materials of this kind, and laying the result in an accessible form before the public, is a good one. All will depend, however, on the manner of execution. The attempt before us, being the first of its kind, is perhaps necessarily imperfect, and we may expect some improvements should the work realise the expectations of its publisher. For example, we miss the names of various men of note, to whom England owes many acknowledgments—such as Dr Neill Arnott, Mr Edwin Chadwick, Archibald Alison, &c.—and in several instances, also, the sketches actually given are very deficient in attainable facts; while there occur notices of individuals whose names can scarcely be said to be known to the public. With these imperfections, the work is a handy biographic compendium, full of amusing particulars, that cannot fail to be useful in the way of reference. To provincial libraries, the book will be a cheap and agreeable accession. As a specimen of the manner of execution, we present the following scraps of quotation:—

'Brooke, Rajah Sir James, is a Somersetshire man, born on the 29th of April 1803, at Combe Grove, near Bath. His father was engaged in the civil service of the East India Company; and when of sufficient age, the future rajah was sent to India as a cadet, and, on the Burmese war breaking out, went to the scene of operations; entered upon active military service; and whilst storming a stockade, received a bullet in his chest. This wound kept him for awhile balanced between life and death, but a strong constitution stood him in good stead, and he was able to reach England on furlough, to seek the full restoration of his health. When sufficiently strong, he set out on a tour through France, Switzerland, and Italy, the languages, as well as manners and condition of which he studied; but the longest leave of absence will expire at last, and we find our hero, in due course, again setting out for the East; failing, however, to reach it at once, for the ship in which he sailed was wrecked on the Isle of Wight. In his next vessel, he was more fortunate, and safely reached India, to resume his duties; but finding a long official correspondence requisite to explain why a shipwreck should have delayed an officer's return, he resigned the service of the East India Company, and in 1830 sailed from Calcutta for China. "In this voyage," says Captain Keppel, in his Expedition to Borneo, "while going up the China seas, he saw for the first time the islands of the Asiatic Archipelago—islands of vast importance and unparalleled beauty—lying neglected and almost unknown. He inquired and read, and became convinced that Borneo and the Eastern Isles afforded an open field for enterprise and research. To carry to the Malay races, so long the terror of the European merchant-vessel, the blessings of civilisation, to suppress piracy, and extirpate the slave-trade, became his humane and generous objects; and from that hour the energies of his powerful mind were devoted to this one pursuit. Often foiled—often disappointed, with a perseverance and enthusiasm which defied all obstacle, he was not until 1838 enabled to set sail from England on his darling project."' Having procured and manned a yacht, he set out on his expedition to the Eastern seas, in spite of all sarcasms from croakers; and 'when the news came home that he had truly engaged in the suppression of the Malay sea-robbers, and had been rewarded by the cession to him, by a grateful native prince, of the territory and governorship of Sarawak—a tract embracing about 3000 square miles of country, with a sea-board of about fifty miles—said croakers began to think the adventurous undertaking not so wild after all. The steps by which he became rajah of Sarawak may be here recounted. When in his vessel, the Royalist, he reached the coast of that country, he found its ruler engaged in the suppression of one of the rebellions frequent in uncivilised regions. His aid was solicited by the Rajah Muda Hassim, and that aid being given, secured the triumph of the authorities. Muda being soon afterwards called by the sultan to the post of prime-minister, suggested the making the English captain his successor at Sarawak—a step eventually taken. The newly-acquired territory was swampy and ill cultivated by the native Dyaks, who varied their occupations, as tillers of the land, by excursions amongst neighbouring villages, in search of heads. To rob the native of a neighbouring town of his cranium, was regarded in much the same light as the capture of a scalp would be amongst North American savages. Brooke saw at once that no improvement could arise whilst murder was regarded not only as a pleasant amusement, but to some extent as a religious duty. He declared head-hunting a crime punishable by death to the offender. With some trouble and much risk he succeeded to a great extent in effecting a reform. Attacking at the same time another custom of the country—that of piracy—he acted with such vigour, that a class of well-meaning people at home, stimulated to some extent by the private enemies of Brooke, accused him of wholesale butchery. The fact that the destruction of pirates was rewarded by the English executive by the payment of what was called "head-money," justly increased the outcry. To kill one pirate entitled the crew of a ship-of-war to a certain prize in money—to kill a thousand, entitled them to a thousand times the amount. This premium on blood was wrong in principle, and the result of a wholesale slaughter of Eastern pirates by order of Brooke, led to the very proper abolition of the custom of paying this "head-money." The men who are entitled to the praise of securing this amelioration of our naval system were not, however, content with the triumph of the just portion of their case; they sought to brand the rajah as a cruel and greedy adventurer—in which attempt they fortunately failed. It is surely unjust to test the acts of a man living and ruling amongst savages by the strict usages of action acknowledged and found most proper for guidance in civilised communities. When, after his first appointment, Rajah Brooke returned to see his friends and to take counsel in England, he was welcomed very warmly. He was made Knight of the Bath; invited to dine with the Queen; found his portrait in the print-shops, and his biography in the magazines and newspapers. The government recognised his position; ordered a man-of-war to take him to the seat of his new settlement; gave him the title of Governor of Labuan, with a salary of L.2000 a year, with an extra L.500 a year as a consular agent, and afforded him the services of a deputy-governor, also on a good salary—the hope being that the result of all this would be the opening of a new emporium for British trade.' To this notice might be added an expression of deep regret that there should be any controversy as to the real nature of Sir James Brooke's operations in the East. This scandal ought surely to be put an end to by some distinct investigation and avowal one way or the other.

The above notice of Sir James Brooke naturally suggests a recollection of his relentless accuser, Joseph Hume, and we turn up the account of that personage.

'Hume, Joseph, a Radical Reformer, whose history adds another memorable example of perseverance raising its possessor from a humble station to distinction. He was born at Montrose, in the year 1777. While he was still young, his father, the master of a small trading-vessel of that port, died, leaving his widow to bring up a numerous family. Mrs Hume, it is related, maintained herself and her children by means of a small earthenware business, and placed Joseph in a school of the town, where he received an education which included instruction in the elements of Latin. With such scanty stores of knowledge, he was apprenticed to a surgeon of Montrose, with whom he served three years. Having attended the prescribed lectures to the medical classes in the university of Edinburgh, he was admitted, in 1796, a member of the College of Surgeons in that city. India was at that time a favourite, and, indeed, almost the only field for the young who had no other fortune than their talents and enterprise. To India, accordingly, Mr Hume went, and entered as a surgeon the naval service of the East India Company. He had not been there three years, before he was placed on the medical establishment of Bengal. Here, while increasing his professional reputation, he had the opportunity of watching the whole operation of the machinery of the Company's service. His quick eye soon detected the deficiencies of the greater number of the Company's servants in command of the native language, an acquirement so valuable in possessions such as ours. He determined to acquire a knowledge of the dialects of India, not doubting that a sphere of larger utility and greater emolument would open before his efforts. The Mahratta war breaking out in 1803, Mr Hume was attached to Major-general Powell's division, and accompanied it on its march from Allahabad into Bundelcund. The want of interpreters was now felt, as Hume had expected, and the commander was glad to find among his surgeons a man capable of supplying the deficiency. He continued to discharge his new duties without resigning his medical appointment, and managed to combine with both the offices of pay-master and post-master of the troops. His ability to hold direct intercourse with the natives continued to be of immense service to him, and enabled him to hold simultaneously a number of offices with most varied duties, such as nothing but an unwearying frame and an extraordinary capacity could have enabled any one person to discharge. At the conclusion of the peace, he returned to the presidency, richer by many golden speculations, for which a period of war never fails to offer opportunities. In 1808, having accomplished the object for which he left his native land, he came to England, and, after an interval of repose, determined upon making a tour of the country, the better to acquaint himself with the condition of its inhabitants.' After making this tour, and visiting various continental countries, he returned to England, where he devoted himself to a political career; and since 1812, he has for the most part had a seat in the House of Commons. His parliamentary history since 1818 has been that of a reformer of abuses and enemy of monopoly, and he is respected even by those who differ from him in opinion.

Our next specimen is—

'Thackeray, William Makepeace, author, was born in India, in 1811. He is of good family, and was originally intended for the bar, of which he is now a member. He kept seven or eight terms at Cambridge, but left the university without taking a degree, for the purpose of becoming an artist. After about three years' desultory practice, he devoted himself to literature, abandoning the design of making a position as a painter, and only employed his pictorial talents in illustration of his own writings. For a short time, he conducted a literary and artistic review, similar in plan to the Athenæum; but the new journal, although characterised by great ability, perished in competition with established rivals. He also, with the assistance of Dr Maginn, started a newspaper; but this was unsuccessful. His first distinction was won as a writer in Fraser's Magazine, Punch, and other periodicals of character. In the latter amusing periodical appeared his Jeames's Diary, a clever satire on the follies of the railway mania, exposing the hollow foundation upon which railway fortunes and reputations were made. His Snob Papers, published in the same manner, have since been collected and reprinted with great success. His satire is as keen as that of Fielding. His Paris Sketch-Book appeared in 1840. His Irish Sketch-Book, with numerous engravings drawn by the author, was published in 1845. In the next year, appeared his Notes of a Journey from Cornhill to Grand Cairo; and in 1847, the first numbers of Vanity Fair appeared, in the proper name of their author. This, Thackeray's first fully-developed novel, has been followed by Arthur Pendennis, completed in 1851. His Christmas-book, entitled The Kickleburies on the Rhine, was attacked by a writer in the Times; whereupon Mr Thackeray replied, in a very unmistakable way, in a preface to the second edition of the work. The critic fared very badly in the contest.' The charge made against Mr Thackeray is, that he abuses the characters of the literary class with a view apparently of catering to public prejudice. We believe that any such imputation is entirely unfounded; and that Mr Thackeray's observations on the infirmities of authors are due to an honest exposition of his subject. Mr Thackeray has lately imparted much delight by delivering lectures on the literary personages of last century; and in this very act has gracefully raised the public estimation of living authorcraft.

We may extract the following passages respecting the early career of Mr Dickens:—

'Dickens, Charles, the most popular writer of his time, was born in February 1812, at Landport, Portsmouth. His father, the late Mr John Dickens, in the earlier part of his life, enjoyed a post in the Navy Pay Department, the duties of which required that he should reside from time to time in different seaports: now at Plymouth, now at Portsmouth, and then at Sheerness. "In the glorious days" of the war with France, these towns were full of life, bustle, and character; and the father of "Boz" was at times fond of dilating upon the strange scenes he had witnessed. One of his stories described a sitting-room he once enjoyed at Blue-town, Sheerness, abutting on the theatre. Of an evening, he used to sit in this room, and could hear what was passing on the stage, and join in the chorus of God save the King, and Britannia rules the Waves—then the favourite songs of Englishmen. The war being at an end, amongst those who left the public service with a pension was the father of our novelist. Coming to London, he subsequently found lucrative employment for his talents on the press as a reporter of parliamentary debates. Charles Dickens may, therefore, be said to have been in his youth familiarised with "copy;" and when his father, with parental anxiety for his future career, took the preliminary steps for making his son an attorney, the dreariness of the proposed occupation fell so heavily upon the mind of the future author, that he induced his father to permit him to resign the law, and join the parliamentary corps of a daily newspaper. His first engagement was on the True Sun, an ultra-liberal paper, then carrying on a fierce struggle for existence, from the staff of which he afterwards passed into the reporting ranks of the Morning Chronicle. On that paper, he obtained reputation as a first-rate man—his reports being exceedingly rapid, and no less correct. In the columns of the Chronicle he soon gave proofs of other talents than those of a reporter; for in the evening edition of that journal appeared the Sketches of English Life and Character, afterwards collected to form the two well-known volumes of Sketches by Boz, published respectively in 1836 and 1837. These at once attracted considerable notice, and obtained great success; and the publisher of the collected edition, anxious to make the most of the prize which had fallen to his lot, gladly came to an arrangement with Mr Dickens and Seymour, the comic draughtsman—the one to write, and the other to illustrate a book which should exhibit the adventures of a party of Cockney sportsmen. Hence the appearance of Pickwick, a book which made its author's reputation and the publishers' fortune. After the work had commenced, poor Seymour committed suicide, and Mr Hablot K. Browne was selected to continue the illustrations, which he did under the signature of "Phiz." Meanwhile, Mr Dickens had courted and married the daughter of Mr George Hogarth, then, and now, a musical writer; a man of considerable attainments, and who, in his earlier days, whilst a writer to the Signet in Edinburgh, enjoyed the intimate friendship of Sir Walter Scott, Jeffrey, and the other literary notables at that day adorning the Modern Athens. The great success of Pickwick brought down upon its author demands from all sides for another work, and "Boz" agreed to write Nicholas Nickleby, to be published in monthly parts. In the prefatory notices, which give additional value to the cheap and elegant reprint of the works of Dickens, we are indulged with slight glimpses of his own recollections, personal and literary.' It is unnecessary to note the titles of Mr Dickens's subsequent works, all of which have justly obtained popularity. He has latterly entered on a path not dissimilar to our own, and in this he has our very best wishes. The cause of social melioration needs a union of hearts and hands.

ARCHBISHOP WHATELY'S BOOK OF SYNONYMS

Accuracy of language is one of the things which, in ordinary speech and writing, is but indifferently observed. The reason, perhaps, is to be sought, not in any general indifference to correctness or precision, but rather in the want of some recognised authority, some specific rules or principles, to which the use of words apparently synonymous, yet of slightly different signification, might be distinctly and easily referred. It is in regard to the finer shades of meaning, the subtler touches of expression, the application of words and phrases where the strictest exactness and perspicuity are required, that an ordinary English style is apt to become loose and shadowy; and it is precisely here that we are entitled to expect the severest, chastest form of utterance. Coleridge used to complain of a general confounding of the word 'notion' with 'idea,' and was often at great pains to point out the distinction between the two, as also between many other words similarly misused. Archdeacon Hare, too, has remarked upon the common misapplication of such words as 'education' for 'instruction,' 'government' for 'administration,' 'the church' for 'the priesthood' or 'ministry;' and indeed holds that such a confounding of terms leads to serious practical misunderstandings and confusions.[3 - See Guesses at Truth. First series.] Any one, upon reflection, will perceive that in the common use of these and numberless other words, there is often a signal lack of clearness and precision, and will hardly fail to notice that the error proceeds from a want of due attention to the nice and peculiar meanings of words which are vaguely presumed to have the same signification.

As a help to those who may wish to attain a somewhat more than common correctness of style and language, Archbishop Whately has recently published a small work on English Synonyms;[4 - A Selection of English Synonyms. Second Edition. Parker, London: 1852.] and the rapidity with which the first edition has been disposed of leads us to infer that the public is to some extent prepared to take an interest in the subject. The second edition, 'revised and enlarged,' is now before us, and it is thought that a brief glance at its contents may not be unacceptable to some of our present readers.

The word 'synonym,' as the archbishop observes, is, in strict reality, a misnomer. 'Literally, it implies an exact coincidence of meaning in two or more words, in which case there would be no room for discussion; but it is generally applied to words which would be more correctly termed pseudo-synonyms—that is, words having a shade of difference, yet with a sufficient resemblance of meaning to make them liable to be confounded. And it is in the number and variety of these that, as the Abbé Girard well remarks, the richness of a language consists. To have two or more words with exactly the same sense, is no proof of copiousness, but simply an inconvenience. A house would not be called well furnished from its having a larger number of chairs and tables of one kind than were needed, but from its having a separate article for each distinct use. The more power we have of discriminating the nicer shades of meaning, the greater facility we possess of giving force and precision to our expressions. Our own language possesses great advantages in this respect; for being partly derived from the Teutonic, and partly from the Latin, we have a large number of duplicates from the two sources, which are, for the most part, though not universally, slightly varied in their meaning.

'These slight variations of meaning,' he proceeds, add to the copiousness of the English language, by affording words of more or less familiarity, and of greater and less force. This may easily be understood, if we consider that the branch of the Teutonic, spoken in England during the Anglo-Saxon period, never became extinct, but that three-fourths of the English language at present consist of words altered or derived from that ancient dialect; that these words usually express the most familiar ideas—such as man, house, land, &c.; and that the French terms gradually introduced, being those of a more highly civilised people, were adapted to express the more refined ideas. This is true even of physical objects; thus, for instance, most of the names of the animals used for food are still Teutonic—such as ox, sheep, swine, &c. The Anglo-Saxons, like the modern Germans, had no objection to say ox-flesh, sheep-flesh, swine's-flesh; but the Norman conquerors, introducing a more refined cookery, introduced with it French words for the flesh of the animal; hence we have beef, mutton, pork, &c.'

It has not been the author's design to notice all the synonyms in the language—that, as he remarks, would be an almost endless undertaking; 'but merely, after excluding technical terms, and words which do exactly coincide, to select a few of those groups of words which are in most frequent use, and are most liable to be confounded.' His purpose, perhaps, will be more distinctly shewn, if we add a few more sentences from the preface.

'Many persons,' says he, 'imagine that two words must either coincide precisely in their meaning, so as to be, in the primary and strict sense of the word, "synonymous," or else stand for two (more or less) distinct things. Indeed, it would often be regarded as almost a truism to assert this; but those who maintain such an opinion overlook the fact, that two words, without exactly coinciding in sense, may nevertheless relate to one and the same thing, regarded in two different points of view. An illustration of this is afforded in the relation which exists between the words, "inference" and "proof." Whoever justly infers, proves; and whoever proves, infers; but the word "inference" leads the mind from the premises which have been assumed, to the conclusion which follows from them; while the word "proof" follows a reverse process, and leads the mind from the conclusion to the premises. We say: "What do you infer from this?" and "How do you prove that?"[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.] Another illustration may be quoted in the synonyms, "expense" and "cost." The same article may be expensive and costly; but we speak of expense in reference to the means of the purchaser; of cost, in reference to the actual value of the article.'

This work does not profess to deal much with etymologies; the author thinking that any very strict attention to the derivation of words, in connection with synonyms, would only tend to confuse the subject. The history of the origin and growth of words must undoubtedly throw light upon their meanings; but he, nevertheless, holds the two questions to be completely distinct and separable; and thinks that, in an inquiry into the actual and present meaning of a word, the consideration of what it originally meant may frequently lead us into error. A few suggestive remarks are given upon this matter.

'Our question is, not what ought to be, or formerly was, the meaning of a word, but what it now is; nor can we be completely guided by quotations from Shakspeare or Milton, or even from Addison or Johnson. Language has undergone such changes, even within the last sixty or seventy years, that many words, at that time considered pure, are now obsolete; while others—of which the word "mob" is a specimen—formerly slang, are now used by our best writers, and received, like pardoned outlaws, into the body of respectable citizens.' The standard, accordingly, to which the author refers in the work before us, is the sense in which a word is used by the purest writers and most correct speakers of our own days.

The synonyms are arranged or classed according to the parts of speech to which they belong—namely, into particles, nouns, adjectives, and verbs. The uses of all the words are well defined, and sufficiently illustrated by examples; a table of contents and a complete index are also added, rendering reference to any word as easy as looking for it in a dictionary. The table of contents, indeed, will be found to serve most of the purposes of a vocabulary of synonyms: a glance at it will frequently give you all the words of similar signification to the particular one for which you may happen to require an equivalent. From the part of the book relating to verbs, we take the following; the words under notice being, To teach, instruct, inform, educate:—

'Of these words, the first two are often used synonymously, but they have also a distinct meaning. "Teaching," strictly speaking, when distinguished from instruction, is applied to the practice of an art or branch of knowledge: instruction, to the theory. A child is, correctly speaking, instructed in the grammar of a language, and taught to speak the language. Thus, teaching may be merely mechanical; while "instruction" implies a degree of understanding in the pupil, as well as in the master. A child who has been taught to learn lessons by rote, without understanding them, will find difficulty in comprehending instruction in the principles of what he has learned: hence, we speak of teaching a brute, but never of instructing it.

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

'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,