the coin of the country, and to oblige us to pay them in Spanish dollars, at eighteen mace each; and represented to us the great difficulties and loss we should experience in a perseverance in our intention. On hearing this, we determined to complain to the governor, a resolve which we put in immediate execution, and took Antonio, one of the government linguists, with us, and Joachim accompanied us. We entered our complaint against the officers, recapitulated our grievances, reminded him of his promises of assistance and protection, and demanded justice, promising oblivion of the past, provided our present and any future claims for justice were listened to and allowed. From his manner we fancied we perceived, that he was aware of the impositions that had been practised, and, no doubt, instigated by him; he, in short, declined interfering with the customhouse department, as out of his province; he, however, condescended to give us some wholesome advice upon the subject. He thought it would be best to allow the officers to count the money in their own way, or to make a compromise, by giving them a sum of money, on condition they would not count it; or to permit it to pass for so many Spanish dollars, at eighteen quans the dollar; and to prevent further trouble, to pay the residue of the government dues in Spanish dollars. We objected to part of this plan, but suggested, that we would withdraw all the money we had deposited in the customhouse, and apply it to other purposes, and pay the whole amount in Spanish dollars; to this he assented, provided we would pay a duty equivalent to the premium on the dollars, to satisfy the officers for the trouble they had already been, and might yet be at. In short, after several journeys backwards and forwards, between the governor's house and the customhouse, and night again approaching, we were under the necessity of succumbing to these harpies, and we delivered them the money, and took their receipts for seven hundred and fifty dollars, the amount of what we had paid for it.

This is but one out of the numerous vexations, which our unfortunate countrymen experienced, and which give occasion to frequent and solemn warnings on the part of Captain White, to merchants and commanders, to avoid these inhospitable shores. It appears, however, from the result, that he contrived to maintain the character of New England for shrewd dealing, and was not so thoroughly come over by the knowing ones of Saigon, as they perhaps imagined. The principal objection, after all, seems to be, that the quantity of products for exportation is really not sufficient to offer any considerable inducement to continue the traffic. The ships could not obtain, by all their efforts, full cargoes. Yet what they did obtain cost but seven dollars and twenty-two cents per picul, whereas what they embarked subse

quently at Java, to complete the lading, cost eight dollars and a half. The picul contains one hundred and thirty-three and a third pounds English.

Notwithstanding the length of our extracts, we are aware that we have been able to afford but a meagre representation of a work, of which the whole is full of interest, and the greater part equally novel and amusing. This is a deficiency in some measure incident to the narrow limits, which are imposed upon us by the circumstances of our Gazette.

We shall conclude our remarks on this subject, with some notice of the singular discrepancy between the accounts of the same people by two different travellers. It is clear, that either the inhabitants of the country bordering on the Don-nai river are the filthiest, the most indecent, deceitful, and unmannerly race, who can have any claim to be reckoned among civilized people; or else Captain White's senses of sight, touch, and smell must be exceedingly imperfect and depraved; unless, indeed, we suppose him to have been guilty of wilful and gross falsehood. The conclusion of the Quarterly Reviewers, in their notice of his work, is, that "the Cambodians do not possess one redeeming virtue, one amiable quality, as an offset to their grovelling and disgusting vices." This opinion is materially altered by the work of Finlayson, who found "large and comfortable houses," where White saw only "filthy huts and pig-sties;" the "poorest among the people clothed from head to foot, and the populace making a more decent and respectable appearance than other Eastern nations; " 99 66 among the females many that were even handsome, as well as remarkably fair, and their manners engaging," without the least degree of "looseness of character," or "coarseness; " and in regard to the crowd, "that they conducted themselves. with a degree of propriety, order, decency, and respect, that was alike pleasing as it was novel." The reviewers, in this instance, like many other very good people, seem to be most powerfully influenced by the opinion of the last speaker, and intimate, that Captain White must have looked upon the Cambodians with optics distorted by the results of his sugar speculation. This is not the first time, however, that travellers have disagreed in their representations of plain matters of fact; and, indeed, the frequency of this occurrence should induce all such persons seriously to consider, whether in the views which they are taking of objects before them, their eyes, ears, and noses are really worthy of any confidence.

MISCELLANY.

PHILOSOPHY OF LANGUAGE.

(Continued from page 27.)

THE presence of visible circumstances, serving to illustrate the connexion which language has with the occasion on which it is used, may seem to be necessary with regard to the whole class of words which denote sensible objects; but it may be doubted whether intellectual terms must also have a similar accompanying explanation. What necessary connexion is there between the word "forgot" and that state of the mind which it is intended to denote? Surely none. How does the child, who hears this word uttered, for the first time, acquire any conception of its meaning? It is done, partly by noticing the hesitation or peculiar expression of countenance of the person, who says, "I have forgotten;" and partly, by considering the various circumstances connected with the occasion on which the word is used; and, in addition to all this, by the consciousness, on the part of the child, of having itself been in the same state of forgetfulness. This consciousness is an essential part of the process by which the meaning of all intellectual terms is acquired; yet it is excited by some of the external and sensible assemblages of objects or circumstances, which accompany the utterance of the term. For instance; I wish to teach a child the meaning of the word "beautiful," and I may give him a laboured and logical definition of it to no purpose, unless I can direct his attention or imagination to some beautiful object, which he actually sees or has seen, and thus revive in his mind the consciousness of that emotion of beauty which he has actually felt. Were he so constituted as not to be susceptible of this emotion, or having formerly felt it, if I could not succeed by presenting to his view some object calculated to excite this emotion, to produce in him the consciousness of having felt it, all my efforts to teach him the import of the term, would be fruitless. "I am cold; bring that wood and put it on the fire." This phrase, we will suppose, is addressed to a child. In what way has he acquired the meaning of the word cold? Perhaps this epithet was first applied, in his hearing, to some person who was cold, the state of the air at the time and the apparent sensations of the person serving in part to render the meaning of the term intelligible. Yet it would not have been understood if the child himself had not felt either at that or some previous time the same sensation. When the word is again used, the child may not be cold, and he understands its import, as ap

plied to another person, only by being conscious of his having formerly felt cold. Again, the child is told that a certain individual is proud. How did he at first acquire the meaning of this term? It was by noticing the effects which the feeling of pride has upon the appearance and conduct. But even this would give him a very imperfect conception of the meaning of the term, if he himself had never felt proud. The appearance of pride in another refers his mind to the previous existence of the same emotion in his own breast, and thus he acquires the accurate meaning of the word. When it is again used, it excites in his mind that consciousness, which he has of having himself once been in a state of mind which it intended to denote. That we do thus refer to ourselves when we hear such terms used, will, I think, be manifest to any one, who deliberately reads over a sentence involving them, and attentively examines at the time the operations of his own mind. "Ye who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy, and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of hope," &c. What meaning could I attach to "credulity," if I never myself had been credulous; or to "fancy," if I had never exercised that faculty; or to "hope," if I had never indulged that emotion? These words, as I read them, excite in me the consciousness of having once been in the state of mind which they denote. This process of thought indeed is so rapid that it seldom attracts our notice, but it is not the less real.

Our own consciousness, then, of the operations, affections, and states of our own minds, and our own observation of what has been addressed to us from without, through the medium of the bodily senses, are the two sources from which language derives all its significancy. Spoken words, addressed to the ear, or written or printed words addressed to the eye, must have originally been accompanied by an explanation addressed to some one of the bodily senses, or else they would have had no meaning. This explanation, it is true, admits of great variety. It may be the actual presence of an object, or its picture, or its delineation by appropriate bodily motions and gestures; or it may be some change in the various processes of nature, or the actions of animals or of man; or it may be some of the movements and results of human skill; or it may be the effects which are produced upon the human countenance, body, gestures, deportment, actions, and conduct, by the operations, affections, and states of the mind; or it may be the excitement of our own consciousness with regard to the present or past state of our minds. But let it not be forgotten, that, in each of these cases, the original explanation of all words and terms, no matter how lofty or how humble their import, and whether denoting material or intellectual objects, must be addressed to some one of the bodily senses. The subject we are considering

is of so subtle and complicated a nature, and demands so much slow and patient analysis in order to arrive at correct conclusions, that our mode of treating it must be somewhat desultory. The chemist repeats his experiments in a variety of forms, many of which, for a time, hardly appear to have any bond of union, till at length the results are obtained, and the general principle established, which is equally applicable to them all. Just so in the laboratory of mind, the true intellectual philosopher, by a strictly inductive process, and by a careful and it may be, at first, an apparently heterogeneous examination of the diversified and endlessly varying processes of thought, determines by a comparison of them all, those laws of mental action, which, although they may be less palpable, are not less certain than those that material action. (To be continued.)

ERRATA

In the portion of this essay published in the last number of the Gazette.

2, after meaning of, insert it. 28, for clumsy, read clayey.

8, after seen, insert the.

22, for thing, read thinker.

45, after black, insert, "You cannot see your father."

2, after burnt up? insert, "I know so, I have often seen the fire burn paper."

LETTER FROM AN AMERICAN IN EUROPE.

Düsseldorf, on the Rhine. My Dear W.-What shall I tell you about, that you will care to hear? My fancy and my letters ought in duty to take a professional turn, and so I will discourse of churches and ceremonies and priests. Yet if I confine myself to what I have seen, I shall talk but little of religion, for I have hardly seen any of it in Europe. The manner of keeping the sabbath has interested me much. In England and Ireland it is much better kept than on the continent. Every body knows what is done in London. I will therefore speak only of Dublin. In that city, though the churches were full at twelve o'clock, the alehouses were full at two. On no day were the streets of that fine capital so crowded and so gay. A large portion of the shops, though not those of the Protestants, were open immediately after divine service. Perhaps you will be curious to know whether among a quarter of a million of people, in the metropolis of a populous kingdom, and the seat of a celebrated university, the style of preaching be not something far beyond what we of the West can have a notion of. It was far, very far below that to which we are accustomed in Boston. I wandered from high to low, from the venerable cathedral of St Patrick's to the Denmark-street.