not in the things, and the properties of mind are therefore all important. It is true that these laws are verified in the observation of the exterior world; and it would seem that they might have been gathered and proved by generalisation, had they not already been in our possession. But on the other hand, it may well be urged that we cannot prove these laws by any process of reasoning or observation, because the laws themselves are presupposed, as Leibnitz acutely remarked, in the very notion of a proof. They are the prior conditions of all thought and all knowledge, and even to question their truth is to allow them true. Hartley ingeniously refined upon this argument, remarking that if the fundamental laws of logic be not certain, there must exist a logic of a second order whereby we may determine the degree of uncertainty: if the second logic be not certain, there must be a third; and so on ad infinitum. Thus we must suppose either that absolutely certain laws of thought exist, or that there is no such thing as certainty whatever.1 Logicians, indeed, appear to me to have paid insufficient attention to the fact that mistakes in reasoning are always possible, and of not unfrequent occurrence. The Laws of Thought are often called necessary laws, that is, laws which cannot but be obeyed. Yet as a matter of fact, who is there that does not often fail to obey them? They are the laws which the mind ought to obey rather than what it always does obey. Our thoughts cannot be the criterion of truth, for we often have to acknowledge mistakes in arguments of moderate complexity, and we sometimes only discover our mistakes by collision between our expectations and the events of objective nature.

Mr. Herbert Spencer holds that the laws of logic are objective laws, and he regards the mind as being in a state of constant education, each act of false reasoning or miscalculation leading to results which are likely to prevent similar mistakes from being again committed. I am quite inclined to accept such ingenious views; but at the same time it is necessary to distinguish between the accumulation of knowledge, and the constitution of the mind which allows of the acquisition of knowledge. Before the mind can perceive or reason at all it must have 1 Hartley on Man, vol. i. p. 359.

Principles of Psychology, Second Ed., vol. ii. p. 86.

the conditions of thought impressed upon it. Before a mistake can be committed, the mind must clearly distinguish the mistaken conclusion from all other assertions. Are not the Laws of Identity and Difference the prior conditions of all consciousness and all existence? Must they not hold true, alike of things material and immaterial? and if so, can we say that they are only subjectively true or objectively true? I am inclined, in short, to regard them as true both "in the nature of thought and things," as I expressed it in my first logical essay;11 and I hold that they belong to the common basis of all existence. But this is one of the most difficult questions of psychology and metaphysics which can be raised, and it is hardly one for the logician to decide. As the mathematician does not inquire into the nature of unity and plurality, but develops the formal laws of plurality, so the logician, as I conceive, must assume the truth of the Laws of Identity and Difference, and occupy himself in developing the variety of forms of reasoning in which their truth may be manifested.

Again, I need hardly dwell upon the question whether logic treats of language, notions, or things. As reasonably might we debate whether a mathematician treats of symbols, quantities, or things. A mathematician certainly does treat of symbols, but only as the instruments whereby to facilitate his reasoning concerning quantities; and as the axioms and rules of mathematical science must be verified in concrete objects in order that the calculations founded upon them may have any validity or utility, it follows that the ultimate objects of mathematical science are the things themselves. In like manner I conceive that the logician treats of language so far as it is essential for the embodiment and exhibition of thought. Even if reasoning can take place in the inner consciousness of man without the use of any signs, which is doubtful, at any rate it cannot become the subject of discussion until by some system of material signs it is manifested to other persons. The logician then uses words and symbols as instruments of reasoning, and leaves the nature and peculiarities of language to the grammarian. But signs again must

1 Pure Logic, or the Logic of Quality apart from Quantity, 1864, pp. 10, 16, 22, 29, 36, &c.

correspond to the thoughts and things expressed, in order that they shall serve their intended purpose. We may therefore say that logic treats ultimately of thoughts and things, and immediately of the signs which stand for them. Signs, thoughts, and exterior objects may be regarded as parallel and analogous series of phenomena, and to treat any one of the three series is equivalent to treating either of the other series.

The Process of Inference.

The fundamental action of our reasoning faculties consists in inferring or carrying to a new instance of a phenomenon whatever we have previously known of its like, analogue, equivalent or equal. Sameness or identity presents itself in all degrees, and is known under various names; but the great rule of inference embraces all degrees, and affirms that so far as there exists sameness, identity or likeness, what is true of one thing will be true of the other. The great difficulty doubtless consists in ascertaining that there does exist a sufficient degree of likeness or sameness to warrant an intended inference; and it will be our main task to investigate the conditions under which reasoning is valid. In this place I wish to point out that there is something common to all acts of inference, however different their apparent forms. The one same rule lends itself to the most diverse applications. The simplest possible case of inference, perhaps, occurs in the use of a pattern, example, or, as it is commonly called, a sample. To prove the exact similarity of two portions of commodity, we need not bring one portion beside the other. It is sufficient that we take a sample which exactly represents the texture, appearance, and general nature of one portion, and according as this sample agrees or not with the other, so will the two portions of commodity agree or differ. Whatever is true. as regards the colour, texture, density, material of the sample will be true of the goods themselves. In such cases likeness of quality is the condition of inference.

Exactly the same mode of reasoning holds true of magnitude and figure. To compare the sizes of two objects, we need not lay them beside each other.

staff, string, or other kind of measure may be employed to represent the length of one object, and according as it agrees or not with the other, so must the two objects agree or differ. In this case the proxy or sample represents length; but the fact that lengths can be added and multiplied renders it unnecessary that the proxy should always be as large as the object. Any standard of convenient size, such as a common foot-rule, may be made the medium of comparison. The height of a church in one town may be carried to that in another, and objects existing immovably at opposite sides of the earth may be vicariously measured against each other. We obviously employ the axiom that whatever is true of a thing as regards its length, is true of its equal.

To every other simple phenomenon in nature the same principle of substitution is applicable. We may compare weights, densities, degrees of hardness, and degrees of all other qualities, in like manner. To ascertain whether two sounds are in unison we need not compare them directly, but a third sound may be the go-between. If a tuningfork is in unison with the middle C of York Minster organ, and we afterwards find it to be in unison with the same note of the organ in Westminster Abbey, then it follows that the two organs are tuned in unison. The rule of inference now is, that what is true of the tuningfork as regards the tone or pitch of its sound, is true of any sound in unison with it.

The skilful employment of this substitutive process enables us to make measurements beyond the powers of our senses. No one can count the vibrations, for instance, of an organ-pipe. But we can construct an instrument called the siren, so that, while producing a sound of any pitch, it shall register the number of vibrations constituting the sound. Adjusting the sound of the siren in unison with an organ-pipe, we measure indirectly the number of vibrations belonging to a sound of that pitch. To measure a sound of the same pitch is as good as to measure the sound itself.

Sir David Brewster, in a somewhat similar manner, succeeded in measuring the refractive indices of irregular fragments of transparent minerals. It was a troublesome, and sometimes impracticable work to grind the minerals

into prisms, so that the power of refracting light could be directly observed; but he fell upon the ingenious device of compounding a liquid possessing the same refractive power as the transparent fragment under examination. The moment when this equality was attained could be known by the fragments ceasing to reflect or refract light when immersed in the liquid, so that they became almost invisible in it. The refractive power of the liquid being then measured gave that of the solid. A more beautiful instance of representative measurement, depending immediately upon the principle of inference, could not be found.1

Throughout the various logical processes which we are about to consider-Deduction, Induction, Generalisation, Analogy, Classification, Quantitative Reasoning-we shall find the one same principle operating in a more or less disguised form.

Deduction and Induction.

The processes of inference always depend on the one same principle of substitution; but they may nevertheless be distinguished according as the results are inductive or deductive. As generally stated, deduction consists in passing from more general to less general truths; induction is the contrary process from less to more general truths. We may however describe the difference in another manner. In deduction we are engaged in developing the consequences of a law. We learn the meaning, contents, results or inferences, which attach to any given proposition. Induction is the exactly inverse process. Given certain results or consequences, we are required to discover the general law from which they flow.

In a certain sense all knowledge is inductive. We can only learn the laws and relations of things in nature by observing those things. But the knowledge gained from the senses is knowledge only of particular facts, and we require some process of reasoning by which we may collect out of the facts the laws obeyed by them.

1 Brewster, Treatise on New Philosophical Instruments, p. 273. Concerning this method see also Whewell, Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, vol. ii. p. 355; Tomlinson, Philosophical Magazine, Fourth Series, vol. xl. p. 328; Tyndall, in Youmans' Modern Culture, p. 16.