INJURY, n. An offense next in degree of enormity to a slight.
INJUSTICE, n. A burden which of all those that we load upon others and
carry ourselves is lightest in the hands and heaviest upon the back.
INK, n. A villainous compound of tannogalate of iron, gum-arabic, and
water, chiefly used to facilitate the infection of idiocy and
promote intellectual crime. The properties of ink are peculiar and
contradictory: it may be used to make reputations and unmake them;
to blacken them and to make them white; but it is most generally and
acceptably employed as a mortar to bind together the stones in an
edifice of fame, and as a whitewash to conceal afterward the rascal
quality of the material. There are men called journalists who have
established ink baths which some persons pay money to get into, others
to get out of. Not infrequently it occurs that a person who has paid to
get in pays twice as much to get out.
INNATE, adj. Natural; inherent--as, innate ideas, that is to say, ideas
that we are born with, having had them previously imparted to us.
The doctrine of innate ideas is one of the most admirable faiths of
philosophy, being itself an innate idea and therefore inaccessible to
disproof, though Locke foolishly supposed himself to have given it "a
black eye." Among innate ideas may be mentioned the belief in one's
ability to conduct a newspaper, in the greatness of one's country, in
the superiority of one's civilization, in the importance of one's
personal affairs and in the interesting nature of one's diseases.
IN'ARDS, n. The stomach, heart, soul, and other bowels. Many eminent
investigators do not class the soul as an in'ard, but that acute
observer and renowned authority, Dr. Gunsaulus, is persuaded that the
mysterious organ known as the spleen is nothing less than our immortal
part. To the contrary, Professor Garrett P. Serviss holds that man's
soul is that prolongation of his spinal marrow which forms the pith of
his no tail; and for demonstration of his faith points confidently
to the fact that tailed animals have no souls. Concerning these two
theories, it is best to suspend judgment by believing both.
INSCRIPTION, n. Something written on another thing. Inscriptions are
of many kinds, but mostly memorial, intended to commemorate the fame of
some illustrious person and hand down to distant ages the record of his
services and virtues. To this class of inscriptions belongs the name of
John Smith, pencilled on the Washington monument. Following are examples
of memorial inscriptions on tombstones:
"In the sky my soul is found,
And my body in the ground.
By and by my body 'll rise
To join my spirit in the skies,
Soaring up to Heaven's gate.
1878."
"Sacred to the memory of Jeremiah Tree.
Cut down May 9th, 1862, aged 27 yrs. 4 mos.
and 12 ds. Indigenous."
"Affliction sore long time she boar,
Phisicians was in vain,
Till Deth released the dear deceased
And left her a remain.
Gone to join Ananias and Saphiar in the regions of
bliss."
"The clay which rests beneath this stone
As Silas Wood was widely known.
Now, lying here, I ask what good
It was to me to be S. Wood.
O Man, let not ambition trouble you
Is the advice of Silas W."
"Richard Haymon, of Heaven, fell to Earth
Jan. 20, 1807, and had the dust brushed off
him Oct. 3, 1874."
INSECTIVORA, n.
"See," cries the chorus of admiring preachers,
"How Providence provides for all His creatures!"
"His care," the gnat said, "even the insects
follows:
For us He has provided wrens and swallows."
Sempen Railey.
INSURANCE, n. An ingenious modern game of chance in which the player is
permitted to enjoy the comfortable conviction that he is beating the man
who keeps the table.
Insurance Agent: My dear sir, that is a fine house--pray let me insure
it.
House Owner: With pleasure. Please make the annual premium so low that
by the time when, according to the tables of your actuary, it will
probably be destroyed by fire I will have paid you considerably less
than the face of the policy.
Insurance Agent: O dear, no--we could not afford to do that. We must fix
the premium so that you will have paid more.
House Owner: How, then, can I afford that?
Insurance Agent: Why, your house may burn down at any time. There was
Smith's house, for example, which-- House Owner: Spare me--there were
Brown's house, on the contrary, and Jones's house, and Robinson's house,
which--
Insurance Agent: Spare me!
House Owner: Let us understand each other. You want me to pay you money
on the supposition that something will occur previously to the time set
by yourself for its occurrence. In other words, you expect me to bet
that my house will not last so long as it will probably last.
Insurance Agent: But if your house burns without insurance it will be a
total loss.
House Owner: Beg your pardon-- by your own actuary's tables I shall
probably have saved, when it burns, all the premiums I would otherwise
have paid to you--amounting to more than the face of the policy they
would have bought. But suppose it to burn before the time upon which
your figures are based. If I could afford that, how could you?
Insurance Agent: Oh, we would make ourselves even from our luckier
ventures with other clients. Virtually, they pay your loss.
House Owner: And virtually, then, don't I help to pay their losses? Are
not their houses as likely as mine to burn before they have paid you as
much as you must pay them? The case stands this way: You expect to take
more money from your clients than you pay to them, do you not?