jockey at his teeth, to _guess_ at his _age_. The anatomist will, in
thought, dissect him into parts and see every bone, sinew, cartilage,
blood vessel, his stomach, lungs, liver, heart, entrails; every part
will be laid open; and while the thoughtless urchin sees a single
object--a white horse--others will, at a single glance, read volumes of
instruction. Oh! the importance of knowledge! how little is it
regarded! What funds of instruction might be gathered from the lessons
every where presented to the mind!

One impression would be made on all minds in reference to the single
tangible object before them; no matter how learned or ignorant. There
stands an animal obvious to all. Let him be removed out of sight, and a
very exact picture of him suspended in his place. All again agree. Here
then is the proof of our first general principle, viz. all language
depends on the fixed and unvarying laws of nature.

Let the picture be removed and a man step forth and pronounce the word,
_ippos_. The Greek starts up and says, "Yes, it is so." The rest do not
comprehend him. He then writes out distinctly, [Greek: IPPOS]. They are
in the dark as to the meaning. They know not whether a horse, a man, or
a goose is named. All the Greeks, however, understand the meaning the
same as when the horse or picture was before them, for they had _agreed_
that _ippos_ should represent the _idea_ of that animal.

Forth steps another, and pronounces the word _cheval_. Every Frenchman
is aroused: Oui, monsieur? Yes, sir. Comprenez vous? Do you understand?
he says to the rest. But they are dumb. He then writes C-H-E-V-A-L. All
are as ignorant as before, save the Frenchmen who had agreed that
_cheval_ should be the name for horse.