BEADING AS AN INTELLECTUAL PROCESS. 213 



Deep versed in books, and shallow in himself, 

 Crude or intoxicate, collecting toys, 

 And trifles for choice matters, worth a sponge ; 

 As children gathering pebbles on the shore." 



Notwithstanding their seeming inconsistency, these sentiments cer- 

 tainly contain a large portion of truth. It would be interesting to 

 have the great poet's answer to his own parenthetical question. His 

 devotion to books and his acquaintance with all literature and learn- 

 ing are a striking comment upon his query. Every reader must real- 

 ize that the neai'er his own intellectual grasp and sympathy coincide 

 with his author's, the more nutriment he receives. Carlyle says, " We 

 are all poets when we read a poem well." 



In this reading well there is another element of very great impor- 

 tance, and exceedingly rare among ordinary people, not to speak of 

 children. It is closely allied to the preceding. It is expressed in 

 the phrase, " Reading between the lines." It is the perception of what 

 is implied, as well as what is explicitly stated. It is the discovery, not 

 of meanings purposely or carelessly hidden, but of thoughts which, in 

 the highest symmetry and completeness, must have accompanied the 

 one expressed. This power is needed in the proper reading of all 

 good authors ; but it is called forth most largely by our twin philoso- 

 phers. Bacon and Shakespeare. 



But there are elements more fundamental than these ; so fundamen- 

 tal, in fact, that the thought seems seldom to occur to us that there 

 can be any weakness in regard to them. The first of these, probably, 

 is the knowledge of the meaning of words. How we obtain this knowl- 

 edge is not so simple a question as it may seem. 



We have a complete understanding of a term, when in our mind 

 the association is so perfect between the arbitrary sign and the thing 

 signified that the sign spontaneously suggests the thing. It is un- 

 doubtedly true that the first words addressed to a child are inter- 

 preted to him, and the idea fixed in his mind by the language of ac- 

 tion and of circumstance which accompanies them. It is precisely the 

 process by which a dog or a monkey is taught to perform its antics. 

 The idea is associated directly with the phrase which strikes the ear, 

 without a suspicion that there are any components, any words. The 

 child's attention is engaged with complete propositions, and not with 

 individual words; he grasps the whole, not realizing that there are 

 parts. He hears you say, " Take care," " Come to mamma ; " your 

 actions and the circumstances associate the full thought with the 

 proposition. 



A process quite similar to this is employed by us largely through 

 life. We get, and can get, the meaning of words to a great extent 

 from their connections only. " Words are living things," says Presi- 

 dent Porter, " only when they are parts of the sentence. They cannot 

 be fully understood except as seen in their connection." The power 



