Various - Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 427 стр 12.

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'"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 indiscriminatelyimagination, 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.'

cats New York Herald The Dry-Goods Reporter cots

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 notsave
There seemed no boundary to the wave
That chafed and moaned alway.
'The shore was lonethe 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 metake 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 !
'Ononthrough 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 livedor 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.

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