neous opinion of language. The fourteen tons refer to no existence but the few phenomena from which the conclusion is deduced; and so far only as the phrase is a name of these, it is significant.

I met lately with the following speculation, which though perfectly logical, shows how idly we may philosophize when we are ignorant of the property of language that I have endeavoured to display. "A small piece of sugar will sweeten a pint of water, consequently every drop of the water will contain some particle of sugar.”

So far the speculation is sensible, the particle of sugar which every drop of water is said to contain, refers to the sweetness that is discoverable in the water. But the theory proceeds :-" if we add a farther pint of water, we shall still be able to discover sweetness: hence every drop of both pints possesses some particle of sugar. The divisibility of the sugar is, however, not yet complete, because if we add another pint of water, we shall discover that the taste has ceased; therefore the last pint must have caused a farther division of the sugar, or some part of the water would continue sweet."

There is still no sophistry. The next step is, however, delusive. The writer continues: "have the particles of sugar been now divided to the extent of their divisibility? If they have, it must proceed from a want of power in water to effect a farther division, and not from a want of matter to be divided; because the last water could not have so divided the particles that each will not be larger than the half of it."

"But is it not gross vanity to suppose, that the power of water to divide, ceases at the moment when our sense can no longer discover the effects of a division? We may as

well suppose, that time ceases when we fall into a sound sleep. Is it not more philosophical, and does it not give us more sublime notions of creation, and is it not also more agreeable to analogy, to suppose that the smaller the particles of sugar become by division, the more easily they will be affected by the dissolvent quality of the water; and that the water continues to divide the particles so long as there are particles remaining? But we have shown that there will always be particles remaining, hence no quantity of water can be added without causing a further division of the sugar. How infinitely divided must the sugar at length become, when a small piece is cast into a creek or river! And if every soluble thing which is thrown into the ocean divides so that every drop of the ocean contains some part of the dissolved substance, what a curious and vast variety of particles must a drop of the ocean contain !"

In the above there is no weakness of argument. The defect lies in the misuse of language. We continue to employ the words particle, sugar and division, long after we have subtracted from them every sensible existence. The words, however, are nothing but names of sensible existences; and to use the words where the existences are not discoverable, is to speak of invisible sights, inaudible sounds, or any other contradiction. Such a use of language is like the trick of a juggler, who having adroitly conveyed a shilling from under a candlestick, talks of the money as still under the candlestick.

I have now, I hope, established the assertion that words have no signification but as they refer to phenomena, and that an ignorance of this principle induces us to use words after their signification has been subtracted, and the words have thereby become insignificant. It is not my inten

tion to apply this rule to any theory or science. My ob ject in these Lectures is merely to establish principles their application I shall leave to others. But as a farther illustration of the principle, I will adduce some.examples of its abuse in the use of the word cause. I select this word because its abuse enters more deeply into metaphysical errors, and has in nearly all the sciences been more fruitful of delusion than the same error in the use of any other word.

To teach a person the meaning of the word cause, I must operate on some of his senses. I can tell him to behold how I cause darkness. He looks and sees me extinguish the candles. The word will then have one signification; namely, the phenomena which he discovers. Again: I can tell him to halloo, and it will cause an echo. If he ask what I mean by causing an echo, I shall tell him to halloo, and he will discover my meaning. I can teach him by any other of his senses the meaning of

cause.

If two billiard balls strike, they will rebound. The cause is variously assigned. Till lately every philosopher inculcated, that when the balls strike, there is a dent produced in each ball; and that the dent resuming instantly its rotundity forces the balls asunder.

What is a dent? A sight and a feel. But the dent which is here assumed can be neither seen nor felt; hence the cause in this case is a word divested of its signification. A dent which our senses cannot perceive differs but in sound from a house which our senses cannot perceive: both are names of sensible phenomena, and both are unmeaning terms, when they are used without a reference to some discoverable existence.

In relation to the motion of billiard balls Profemor Stewart says, "Some of the ablest philosophers in Eu rope are now satisfied, not only that there is no evidence of motion's being produced by the contact of two bodies, but that proofs may be given of the impossibility of such a process: hence they conclude, that the effects which are commonly referred to impulse, arise from a power of repulsion, extending to a small and imperceptible distance round every element of matter."

The billiard balls rebound, then, by virtue of a repulsion, which operates at an insensible distance between the two balls. A repulsion is, however, a sight or a feel, or both; but in the present case it names neither, and is a sound divested of signification. We can neither see the repulsion, nor feel it; nor is it discoverable by any of our senses. It is a repulsion minus repulsion. It operates also at an imperceptible distance. This is precisely the distance that for ever prevented Achilles from overtaking the tortoise. But distance is a sight and a feel; and when we subtract these, as is done by Professor Stewart, the word returns to the pristine insignificance which it possessed before it was applied to the purposes of language.

Let us consider, says Locke, how bodies produce ideas in us. "It is manifestly by impulse, the only way in which bodies can operate: hence, if external objects be not united to our mind, when they produce ideas therein, some motion from the external object must be continued by our nerves or animal spirits to the brain, there to produce in our minds the particular ideas which we have of the objects."

What is a motion? A sight or a feel. We may speak of an invisible and intactible piece of iron with as much. propriety as of a motion that is undiscoverable by our senses. The defect is similar in both cases.

Again, says Locke, "colour and smell are produced by similar motions, which are caused by insensiblo particles operating on our senses. Here not the word mation only is used, as in the former example, but also the word particles. The particles which are moved. are as insensible as the motion. The word particles names, however, existences which can generally be both seen and falt. It may be applied intelligibly to a sound, taste or small; but to employ the word as a name of something which nene of our senses can discover, is a use that langyage cannot sustain and retain any significance.

If motion and particles were known in the way only in which they are employed by Locke, you could never disclose their meaning to any person. You may as well attempt to instruct the blind in the import of scarlet, as teach another person the signification of a term that does not name a sight, feel, taste, smell or sound. The disability of the blind proceeds from a destitution of the sense which is conyersant with scarlet; and a disability arising from a similar cause is experienced by us in the words motion and particles when they signify something that our senses cannot discover.

"Let us now suppose," continues Locke," that a violot, by the impulse of such insensible particles, of peculiar figures and bulks, and by different degrees and modifications of their motions, cause the blue colour and sweet scent of that flower to be produced in our mind.” The smell and colour of a violet are therefore caused by an