cannot make its k heard, and Mayoribanks is simply Marchbanks, whilst Cavendish and Cholmonvely have dwindled into Candish and Chumley. Others are differently mutilated: St. Paul appears as Sampole, and St. Clair as Sinclair; St. Maur changes into Seymour, and St. Pierre into Sampier. The ancient. Roboretum resembles as little the modern Revere, as the more recent Oaktown its present form Acton. Nor have towns fared better: Rokeby is contracted into Rugby, and Agur-stone into Hagerstown; Château Vert succumbs to the later legend of Little John's having shot over it, and remains ever after Shotover; and the Eau-Guerre of the Normans, designating graphically the war of waters at the mouth of the Severn, sinks into the insignificant word Eager. It is well known how absurdly the names of London taverns have changed from "Bacchanals," into Bag and Nails," or from "Boulogne Mouth" (Harbor) into "Bull and Mouth;" a fate to which even christian names have more or less succumbed. The Welch Ap has lost its meaning and half of its substance in the change from Ap Hugh to Pugh, and, in like manner, in Prichard, Power, Price, Perry (ap Harry), Powell and Bowen, whilst Nelly's, Gilbert's, Benjamin's, and Christopher's son must be content with the brief Nelson, Gibson, Benson and Kitson. Here and there the effect of the great law of analogy, which is one of the most powerful influences brought to bear upon a decaying language, appears even in these apparently arbitrary changes. Thus in the strange but very frequent transposition of letters, as, for instance, ther of various languages; the old German ors is in English only horse, in German already ross, and so in French roussin, in Spanish rocin. The English card changes into scratch, breed into birth,

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gross into coarse; from the Latin forma it makes frame, from German brunn its bourn, from French grenier the softer garner, and from its own Saxon gars the modern grass. Certain affixes, also, or prefixes, appear to have unconsciously and ignorantly found their way, upon the same easy principle of analogy, to words which required them not; as the Latin ex in exiguus, or the Cymric ys, the English s simply fastens itself to pin in spine, card in scratch, queak in squeak, trump in strump, wing in swing, (k)nob in snub, quench in squench, crawl in scrawl, and to cry in scream, as in hundred others. It is but rarely, and then in consequence of remarkable events, that the sound remains the same whilst the spelling alters, as in the English victuals, which is now pronounced as it was originally written, "vitail."

It is, however, not the forms of words only that are thus, as it were, worn down to produce at last a more compressed, colloquial, and business-like language. The inflections themselves suffer; the mind being disposed to cast away these bridges that lead from words to the understanding. Languages feel, as it has been aptly said, oppressed and wearied by an abundance of forms, produced in the vigor of their first youth. In divesting themselves, afterwards, of these exuberances, they follow but the dictates of a wise economy, and by analytical, simpler expressions, accommodate themselves to the wants of every-day life. Only the essential grammatical forms remain, and the powerful law of analogy, strengthened still more by liberal concessions to euphony, soon reduce them to the greatest possible uniformity. The English has thus reduced all Anglo-Saxon cases to one poor genitive in S, and moreover, uses this same convenient s for the expression of the plural number. Him from hine, whom from

(w)hone, and twain from twan, are probably the only old accusative forms now existing. Plural forms in en, like oxen, brethren, &c., are rather more frequent; but whilom seems to be the only dative that has been saved. The strong nouns, as well as the strong verbs, have, from their nature, been more successfully preserved. The Infinitive in an, has disappeared entirely, and even the partciple past has lost its fuller form, though in some instances the older termination prevails still by the side of the shortened modern form, as in spoken, drunken, broken, cloven, or bounden. Even these are, however, rapidly disappearing, as well as the analogous form of the third person, singular, in th. What is practically gained by such measures, is, of course, a proportionate loss of the original beauty of human speech. The happy harmony between the spirit and the form of words exists no longer, and the wings of human thought are broken. The meaning of words is much less apt to be interfered with, than the words themselves. Still, here also, a certain change may be perceived in most modern languages. Words are treated as money: the gold coin disappears in part, and its sign only, a kind of conventional money or a paper currency, well adapted to the wants of our age, takes its place. The progressive mind of a nation is more attentive to the inner meaning of words, than to their outward form; but it takes the former also, as it were, upon credit, and the Englishman, for instance, says: I thank you, without recollecting that his words originally meant, I shall often think of you! In all these instances we see, how languages decay apparently, because the maturer mind of the people handles the material more boldly, and a transition takes place from a sensuous to a more intellectual tone in mind and language.

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CHAPTER XLII.

THE INCREASE OF LANGUAGES.

The "making" of new words-Old words revived-Conversion of words.

THE same idioms which lose thus both forms and words, increase, on the other hand, their stock by various means. The most frequent source of new additions is derivation, of which already the ancient languages give ample examples, and which, in all idioms, follows very nearly the same rules. Of rarer occurrence, but none the less important, is the actual making of words. We do not mean to speak of such absurd attempts as, for instance, that of Mr. John Pinkerton, who meant to give to his mother tongue the rhythms and the melody of Southern idioms by adding Italian terminations to English words. He furnished a new version of Addison after this fashion: "As I satto on the toppino of a rocko, &c." We need not add, that this most extravagant experiment met with nothing but withering scorn and interminable ridicule. To make new words is, of course, the privilege mainly of great authors, who, as new ideas germinate in their fertile minds, often use for them new forms of expression. Some of these please, and remain in the language. Such additions were already made of old; Chaucer added to the stock of English numerous expressions of sensible objects

and of simple feelings; Shakspeare and Locke contributed not less largely. Even of late we have seen the English enriched by the two German terms, landsman and fatherland, the former used by Sir W. Scott, in his Quentin Durward, the latter made and introduced by Byron after Isaac D'Israeli. Science, above all, abounds in daily new created terms. The United States, also, promise a large addition of new words; some of them of unknown origin, like caucus; others correctly derived, as bankable, boatable, mailable, or mileage; the majority arising from new circumstances, as backwoods, clearings, and diggings, a dugout and a sleigh (for sled and sledge), husking and cornshucking, prairie-hens, &c., and breadstuffs, or political names like Hunkers (from haunch).

In other cases languages are enriched by the readmission of antiquated, formerly vulgar or foreign words; this is a source of constant increase, and such archaisms are said to infuse new life into decaying idioms. It was a favorite mode of obtaining new words even among the ancients, and Plutarch as well as Cicero furnish many an example. Alfieri was extremely fond of old, obsolete terms, and the works of J. J. Rousseau, Bernardin de St. Pierre, and Chateaubriand, owe to such an admixture much of their peculiar charm. How fanciful national taste is we may see from Willie's objection (in his Collection of Voyages) to Eden's use of such words as despicable, destructive, imbibe, obsequious, ponderous and prodigious, because "they smelt too much of Latine," whilst they have since become genuine English words. The term lunch, also, was, until the end of the last century, only used by servants and vulgar people, and humbug is well known to be of much more recent date.