less, that unless it had been possible to express the infinitesimal shades of human thought by the slightest differences in derivation or pronunciation, we should never understand how so colossal a fabric could have been reared from materials so scanty. Etymology is the knowledge of the changes of words, and so far from expecting identity, or even similarity of sound in the outward appearance of a word, as now used in English, and as used by the poets of the Veda, we should always be on our guard against any etymology which would fain make us believe that certain words which exist in French existed in exactly the same form in Latin, or that certain Latin words could be discovered without the change of a single letter in Greek or Sanskrit. If there is any truth in the laws which govern the growth of language, we can lay it down with perfect certainty, that words of identically the same sound in English and in Sanskrit cannot be the same words. And this leads us to our third proposition. It does happen now and then that in languages, whether related to each other or not, certain words appear of identically the same sound and with some similarity of meaning. These words, which former etymologists seized upon as most confirmatory of their views, are now looked upon with well-founded mistrust. Attempts, for instance, are frequently made at comparing Hebrew words with the words of Aryan languages. If this is done with a proper regard to the immense distance which separates the Semitic from the Aryan languages, it deserves the highest credit. But if, instead of being satisfied with pointing out the faint coincidences

in the lowest and most general elements of speech, scholars imagine they can discover isolated cases of minute coincidence amidst the general disparity in the grammar and dictionary of the Aryan and Semitic families of speech, their attempts become unscientific and reprehensible.

It is surprising, considering the immense number of words that might be formed by freely mixing the twenty-five letters of our alphabet, that in languages belonging to totally different families, the same ideas should sometimes be expressed by the same or very similar words. Dr. Rae, in order to prove some kind of relationship between the Polynesian and Aryan languages, quotes the Tahitian pura, to blaze as a fire, the New Zealand kapura, fire, as similar to Greek pyr, 'fire. He compares Polynesian ao, sunrise, with Eos; Hawaian mauna with mons; Hawaian ike, he saw or knew, with Sanskrit îksh, to see; manao, I think, with Sanskrit man, to think; noo, I perceive, and noo-noo, wise, with Sanskrit jná, to know; orero or orelo, a continuous speech, with oratio; kala, I proclaim, with Greek kaleîn, to call; kalanga, continuous speech, with harangue; kani and kakani, to sing, with cano; mele, a chanted poem, with mélos.1

It is easy to multiply instances of the same kind. Thus in the Kafir language to beat is beta, to tell is tyelo, hollow is uholo.2

In Modern Greek, eye is mati, a corruption of om

1 See M. M., Turanian Languages, p. 95, seq. Pott, in Deutsche Morgenländische Gesellschaft, ix. 430, containing an elaborate criticism on M. M.'s Turanian Languages. The same author has collected some more accidental coincidences in his Etymologische Forschungen, ii. 430.

2 Appleyard, Kafir Language, p. 3.

mation; in Polynesian, eye is mata, and in Lithu anian matau is to see.

And what applies to languages which, in the usual sense of the word, are not related at all, such as Hebrew and English, or Hawaian and Greek, applies with equal force to cognate languages. Here, too, a perfect identity of sound between words of various dialects is always suspicious. No scholar would nowadays venture to compare to look with Sanskrit lokayati; to speed with Greek speúdů; to call with Greek kaleîn; to care with Latin cura. The English sound of i, which in English expresses an eye, oculus, is used in German in the sense of egg, ovum ; and it would not be unreasonable to take both words as expressive of roundness, applied in the one case to an egg, in the other to an eye. The English eye, however, must be traced back to the Anglo-Saxon edge, Gothic augó, German Auge, words akin to Sanskrit akshi, the Latin oculus, the Greek össe; whereas the German Ei, which in Old HighGerman forms its plural eigir, is identical with the English egg, the Latin ovum, the Greek Fon, and possibly connected with avis, bird. This AngloSaxon eage, eye, dwindles down to y in daisy, and to ow in window, supposing that window is the Old Norse vindauga, the Swedish vindöga, the Old Engglish windor. In Gothic, a window is called augadauro, in Anglo-Saxon, eágduru, i. e. eye-door. In island (which ought to be spelt iland), the first portion is neither egg nor eye, but a corruption of Gothic ahva, i. e. aqua, water; hence Anglo-Saxon eóland, the Old Norse aland, waterland.

1 Grimm, Deutsche Grammatik, ii. pp. 193, 421.

What can be more tempting than to derive "on the whole" from the Greek kath holon, from which Catholic? Buttmann, in his "Lexilogus," has no misgivings whatever as to the identity of the Greek holos and the English hale and whole and wholesome. At present, a mere reference to "Grimm's Law" enables any tyro in etymology to reject this identification as impossible. First of all, whole, in the sense of sound, is really the same word as hale. Both exist in Anglo-Saxon under the form of hal, in Gothic as hail, German heil." Now, an initial aspirate in Anglo-Saxon or Gothic presupposes a tenuis in Greek, and if, therefore, the same word existed in Greek, it could only have been kólos, not hólos.

In hólos the asper points to an original s in Sanskrit and Latin, and holos has therefore been rightly identified with Sanskrit sarva and Latin salvus and sollus, in sollers, sollemnis, solliferreus, &c.

There is perhaps no etymology so generally acquiesced in as that which derives God from good. In Danish good is god, but the identity of sound between the English God and the Danish god is merely accidental; the two words are distinct, and are kept distinct in every dialect of the Teutonic family. As in English we have God and good, we have in AngloSaxon God and gód; in Gothic, Guth and god; in Old High-German, Cot and cuot; in German, Gott and gut; in Danish, Gud and god; in Dutch, God and goed. Though it is impossible to give a satisfactory etymology of either God or good, it is clear that two words which thus run parallel in all these 1 Pott, Etymol. Forschungen, i. 774, seq. "Sollum Osce totum et solidum significat." — Festus.

2 Grimm, Deutsche Grammatik, i. pp. 389, 394.

dialects without ever meeting, cannot be traced back to one central point. God was most likely an old heathen name of the Deity, and for such a name the supposed etymological meaning of good would be far too modern, too abstract, too Christian. In the Old Norse, God is actually found in the sense of a graven image, an idol, and is then used as a neuter, whereas, in the same language, Guð, as a masculine, means God. When, after their conversion to Christianity, the Teutonic races used God as the name of the true God, in the same manner as the Romanic nations retained their old heathen word Deus, we find that in Old High-German a new word was formed for false gods or idols. They were called apcot, as if ex-gods. The Modern German word for idol, Götze, is but a modified form of God, and the compound Oelgötze, which is used in the same sense, seems actually to point back to ancient stone idols, before which, in the days of old, lamps were lighted and incense burned. Luther, in translating the passage of Deuteronomy, "And ye shall hew down the graven images of their gods," uses the expression, "die Götzen ihrer Götter."

What thus happens in different dialects may happen also in one and the same language; and this leads us to the consideration of our fourth and last proposition.

4. Different Words may take the same Form in one and the same Language.

The same causes which make words which are perfectly distinct in their origin to assume the same,.

1 In the language of the gipsies, devel, meaning God, is connected with Sanskrit dera. Kuhn, Beiträge, i. p. 147. Pott, Die Zigeuner, ii. p. 311.