pelled to adopt the
signification of words, and employ the current phraseology of those with
whom he associates. When he is subsequently taught to speak and write by
rule, or grammatically, generally at an age anterior to the exercise of
reason, he is coerced to imbibe that which is forced in the way of
instruction. Even at a more advanced period the student cannot readily
comprehend how a perspicuous sentence is formed by the position of
individual words, each bearing a distinct signification, which it is
presumed must be the fact: but Mr. DUGALD STEWART, in his _Philosophical
Essays_, _p._ 155, has introduced a doctrine entirely opposite to this
well-founded position. "So different is all this from the fact, that our
words when examined _separately_, are _often_ as completely
insignificant as the letters of which they are composed: deriving their
meaning _solely_ from the connexion, or relation in which they stand to
others."

For the memory of Mr. STEWART, in common with his surviving pupils, I
feel the reverence that is due to a learned, eloquent and amiable
instructor, although I may now differ with him in many essential points
relating to his philosophy of the human mind. The fact, that every word
possesses a distinct meaning, appears to constitute one of the
foundations of language: and it is impossible to conceive that any word,
in itself completely insignificant, can impart signification to others;
that which it does not contain cannot be communicated. The reservation
contained in the word _often_, implies that some words really are
significant; but no directions are given how to discover, and select
from the copious vocabulary of our language, such as are impregnated
with meaning, in order to expunge those that are insignificant. When we
consult Dr. JOHNSON'S Dictionary, we find that the greater part of the
words enumerated in his ample collection, instead of being senseless,
enjoy an exuberance of meaning. Thus the verb to think has ten
significations; the substantive Thought (the preterite of the verb), 12;
Something, n. s., 5; Nothing, n. s., 11; Smooth, adj., 6; Rough, adj.,
12; To stand, v. n., 69; To run, v. n., 62; Empty, adj., 9; Full, adj.,
15; Beginning, n. s., 5; End, n. s., 20; Before, prepos., 12; After,
prep., 6. However strange, or perhaps ludicrous, these numbers may seem,
yet, in the progress of language from barbarism to refinement, from the
assumed authority of writers, this accumulation of