generalities, and that because this is its proper place. It is closely connected with what has just preceded it, because the extent to which speech changes rapidly, while the representation of it changes slowly, was well-pre-eminently well-illustrated in the French language. The old forms which are still preserved with an appearance of life and reality in the present spelling-dead as they are-are preserved on etymological or historic grounds.

In the present section, however, the principle is dealt with in its more general form; for it may exist independently of any change in language whatsoever. It may exist in the most original orthography in the world. It may present itself in a language hitherto unknown; or, when known, absolutely isolated. If so, the accommodation of the spelling to obsolete forms is out of the question. So is it, also, in respect to words derived from other languages; for, in the supposed instance, there is no language with which it can be compared. To illustrate this, and at the same time to show that the case is not an imaginary one, let us suppose that the languages of (say) Tierra del Fuego and of the Andaman Islands are reduced to an alphabet, into which the Scriptures, or some part of them, have be translated. A word which begins with the sound of s will have an s as its first letter. It will, in no case, begin with a c. Why? The ordinary system of representing a single sound by a single letter will take its course, inasmuch as there is nothing to contravene it. In English, however, sity might be (as it is) spelt city, and we know the reason why. It is derived, indirectly, from the Latin civitas. But with the languages here mentioned there is no such thing as a derivation of this kind. Every true native word is spelt as it is sounded.

Nevertheless, there may be, even in languages of this kind, ample room for the introduction of the etymological principle; indeed, it may have existed in the very first language ever reduced to an alphabet.

This, of course, leads to a distinction. Connections in the way of etymology fall under two heads.

1. There are derivations of which the several elements are contained in different languages. Such is the connection between city and civitas.

2. There are others in which they are contained within the same language. Such is the connection between wife and wives.

The former is impossible in languages either actually isolated, or, if derived, of unknown origin.

The latter may exist in the most isolated language existing.

Of each of those kinds we have ample illustrations in our own language. Of the first we find any amount of instances under the simple letter c. Why is this letter used when s would do as well? Take the word already used as a specimen. Civis is the Latin for a citizen, civitas for a city. No matter how the c was originally sounded. It was, no doubt, at some time or other, pronounced as

From the

k. But this time went by, no one exactly knows when. After the change into s, it passed into the French language. French the English took it, but they took it with the French sound or power. And as they found it written, so they themselves wrote it. How or why it was changed is a question which, at present, is unimportant. The simple fact of its changes, and the adoption of the spelling which it gave rise to, are all that is at present under notice. It explains what is meant by the etymological principle as applied to words not belonging to the language in which the etymological spelling is found."

We may follow the principle further. The number of words wherein c, followed by e, i, or y, is sounded as s, may be so great, that the practice of thus sounding it may become universal. Hence it is extended to words where it is followed by a, o, or u. This ended in k being practically excluded from the Latin language. Hence, again, as our alphabet was of Latin origin, and ask was never formally admitted as a Latin letter, we have come to spell the thoroughly English words can and could with a c, though in German and Scandinavian (or Norse) they begin with k. But ken (know) is the same word as can, in a different tense-this and nothing more. Ken, however, if spelt with c, would run the risk of being sounded as sen; and this it is which has brought in the irrepressible k, the result being that ken is the English spelling of one tense of the verb can, and can the English spelling of another tense of the verb ken; for can, though it now means ability, originally meant power or ability obtained by knowledge. Ken=I know can = =I have known, that is, I know, or am able, at the present time.

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The words ken and can, then, show two things; and for this reason they have been brought forward. The etymological principle brought in the c instead of k, and can was spelt as we have just spelt it. But ken could not have been so spelt, and k was resorted to. Nothing proves better the imperfection and the inconsistency of this so-called principle. It is resorted to in the case of city and civitas to show the connection between the two words ; in can and

ken it conceals it.

An additional illustration of this principle is seen in cat and kitten.

3. The etymological principle as it is suggested by forms found within the limits of one and the same language, of which the words wife and wives have been given as an example, is most conspicuous in two large classes of words, alike in form, though different in respect to their places in grammar. These are the genitive (or the possessive) cases and the plural numbers of substantives, both of which end, so far as the eye is concerned, in s; the possessive cases in 's (or s with an apostrophe), the plurals in s pure and simple,-father, of a father, the father's son, the fathers of the families. For the genitive plural the sign is s', that is, it is the genitive (or

possessive) singular, with the place of the apostrophe transposed, e.g. the ship's sail, the ships' sails, according as one or more than one is spoken of. All this has found its way into the ordinary grammars, and is known to even the readers of Lindley Murray. The history, however, of the apostrophe, and the double sound of the final s, has not, until lately, had due attention bestowed upon it; neither is it so prominently exhibited in even the better class of teaching books as it ought to be.

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It is simple enough. The possessive case in Anglo-Saxon ended in the syllable "es," the plural in the syllable as"-as, wulf, wulf-es, wulf-as; brid, bridd-es, bridd-as-wulf, wulf's, wulfs; bird, bird's, birds; where there is only the addition of a letter, and no extra syllable at all. As for the old genitive (possessive) plural it was wulf-a and bridd-a, so that the English form in s' is merely an extension of the 's of the singular.

Now as long as the s was preceded by a vowel and belonged to a different syllable from that of the main body of the word, the speaker was free to pronounce it in a uniform manner. It might always be sounded as the s in sin or the ss in ass. As soon, however, as the vowel was dropped and the two consonants came into contact, the action and reaction between them created a second sound. When the consonant which preceded it was p, f, t, th (as pronounced in thin,) or k, the original sound was retained, and words like taps, chaffs, gnats, laths, and backs were spelt as they were sounded. When, however, the preceding consonant was b, v, th (as in thine,) or g, the sound was that of z; and the spelling by which it was represented would give, as the plurals of words like stab, slave, lad, lathe, and nag, stabz, slāvz, ladz, lāäthz, and nagz: the change being the necessary result of the contact of two consonants of different degrees of what is called hardness and softness, a change which is by no means a matter of choice on the part of the speaker. The two consonants must be in the same class, one of them being accommodated to the other. In the words before us, the latter is accommodated to the former, and stag gives stagz. The converse, however, might have been the case, and the former have been accommodated to the latter: in which case the plural of stag would have been staks. Z, however, seems to have been a favored sound. The plurals and genitives of words ending in vowels and liquids (where the pronunciation is optional) are all, to the ear, formed by the addition of z: for, whatever may be the spelling, hamz, henz, hillz, barz, blowz, fliez, etc., are the sounds we utter in pronunciation. This is the etymological principle as applicable, or applied, to words within the pale of the same language. The English forms in -s well illustrate it, for they fall into two classes, the genitive (or possessive) cases originating in -es, and the plurals originating in The past tenses and participles, according as they end in t or d, belong to the same system; and along with these a few other words, which, as they form smaller classes, are of less importance.

-as.

SECTION IX.

ORIGINAL INSUFFICIENCY OF LETTERS-ORTHOGRAPHIC

EXPEDIENTS.

The insufficiency of letters, or the want of proportion between the number of simple single sounds for which signs are required, and the actual number of such as are found in alphabets, is one of the commonest causes of bad, or indifferent, spelling. It is the fault, or misfortune, of most languages; perhaps of all: for, though in many alphabets of comparatively recent origin the evil is reduced to a minimum, it can scarcely be said to be absolutely abolished: indeed, when such is the case, and when to a sufficient system of letters the merits of uniformity in their application is superadded, we have, as far as the mere analysis and representation go, a full and perfect phonetic alphabet. Even then, however, the signs or letters may be faulty. They may, for instance, be too clumsy to be written with ease, too slightly distinguished from one another to be easily read, and thirdly, so unlike each other in the general character of their structure as to present to the eye of the reader a strange and inharmonious whole when printed or written in pages. Saving however, this, and a few other minor objections, it is clear that, when we have got an alphabet which is, at one and the same time, complete in the number of its letters, and uniform in the application of them, we have nearly all that is wanted. As this, however, has never yet been found in any language wherein the orthography has been left wholly to itself, it follows that merits of the kind under notice are, pre-eminently, the characteristics of the more modern alphabets; indeed, it is only in those that have been specially, purposely, and, at the same time skilfully reformed, that they are found at all. We have the same result, of course, when, for some language hitherto unwritten, a competent constructor has succeeded in reducing it to writing. This, however, is the making, rather than the growth or development, of an alphabet.

As a fair proportion between the sounds and the signs by which they are expressed, is the prerogative of the more recent alphabets, so is the contrary the great demerit of the older ones: rule is by no means universal. There are old alphabets with an though the adequate number of sounds, and there are new ones where the want of them is miserably and mischievously great. Upon the whole, however, the difference is real. Moreover it is natural. In respect to the first alphabet,—a wonder of an invention,-it is a great thing that it existed at all. We expect that it will be incomplete. We shall soon see that it was so. Unfortunately, however, we shall also see that the deficiencies of the infancy of orthography were most insufficiently rectified as alphabets grew older; and that, when the more important alphabets of the world had attained their majority they were in a very unhealthy condition.

The natural result of this system of insufficiency is the creation of a whole series of makeshifts, or, as they are called by philologues, orthographical expedients. A few instances of this kind are enough to show how they work. A letter is wanting. This means that one sign has to do the work of two. Nothing illustrates this better than certain details in the history (and it forms a history by itself) of the letter c. In the French language it reigns predominant. It excludes k altogether. There was no k in Latin, and, as the French keeps up its classical traditions, there is none in the language of France. To a great extent, the rule that c before e, i, or y is pronounced as s is sufficiently regular and general to help the learner; though why there should be such a rule at all is not very clear. In like manner, the rule, that c before a, o, or u is sounded as k, is valid up to a certain point; for the sound of s before a broad vouel (a, o, u) in a word, which, etymologically, ought to be spelt with c, is rare. Still it occurs. To shew, then, that c is not c but s, we make a mark like a comma under it; which really means that we make a new letter though not one recognised in the alphabet and in the arrangement of dictionaries. It is not c; which, in such cases, is k. It is not s; because it is, as a letter, a mere modification of c. What then is it? It is c in a non-natural sense; a makeshift; an orthographical expedient.

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On the other hand, the rule that c before a small vowel is s is valid up to a certain point: for the sound of k, which, before a small vowel (e, i, or y) ought to be spelt ke etc., is comparatively rare. Still it occurs. But the French cannot write it. In Italian we might write it chi: but in French the combination ch is used with another power -used-up, so to say. It stands for the English sh; as in charade, chaise, etc. We have, then, no resource in the h. So the spelling is done by means of q+u; which gives us que, qui, quillet, etc. In Spanish, otherwise a well-spelt language, we have the same difficulty. How can a Spaniard express the sound of k before i? Not by c; for that has a different sound. Not by ch, for that, as in French, is used with another power. What, then, can the Spaniard do? He must even do as the Frenchman does-have recourse to q+u, and a very indifferent one it is.

Now the word chimera is, at once, English, French, Spanish, Latin, and Greek. In the last named language it is spelt xiμaipa, in Latin chimæra, in English chimera, in all of which languages the ch is pronounced as k. In French it is chimere; where the ch-sh. But in Spanish it is pronounced as in Greek, etc,. and retains either its true sound, or a near approximation to it. Yet in Spanish it is spelt quimera: of all impossible spellings for a Greek, the most impossible.

Such is one out of many of the long list of orthographical expedients. How little the system favors a true etymological representation is easily seen, Yet it is out of a supposed adherence to etymology than it grew. The preference of c to k is etymological or nothing.