about it. From the title of a book and how thick it is, for instance, a man will infer its contents. Of course I do not mean that such things influence his real opinion, but merely that with his first glance at anything he combines a judgment small in proportion to the knowledge which he thereby gains of it; and this, too, often without his being clearly aware of the fact. Moreover, the next second’s experience frequently cancels the opinion. All these are so many seeds of knowledge—seeds of which a Lambert would be able to make something; yet just as every seed does not grow into a tree or a vegetable, so here too. At the same time these hints are never to be ignored; they are the outcome of a number of impressions, construed in their most intelligible aggregate.
The flour is the thing, not the mill; the fruits of the philosophy, not the philosophy itself. When we ask what time it is, we do not want to know how watches are constructed. The knowledge of ways and means has nowadays become a creditable science; yet no one applies it towards his own happiness or that of others. To know how, without ever actually bringing that knowledge into employment, nay, without having the will or the capacity to do so—this is what has commonly come to pass for “learning.”
There is a great difference between believing a thing, and not being able to believe the contrary. I often come to believe in things, without being able
