Chapter IX: Part XX (3)

"I don't like it," said Sawley, watching me over the margin of his coffee-cup. "I don't like it. It savours too much of gambling for a man of my habits. Selina, who is a sensible girl, has serious qualms on the subject."

"Then, why not get out of it? I have no objection to run the risk, and, if you like to transact with me I will pay you ready money for every share you have at the present market price."

Sawley writhed uneasily in his chair.

"Will you sell me five hundred, Mr Sawley? Say the word and it is a bargain."

"A time bargain?" quavered the coffin-maker.

"No. Money down, and scrip handed over."

"I--I can't. The fact is, my dear young friend, I have sold all my stock already!"

"Then permit me to ask, Mr Sawley, what possible objection you can have to the present aspect of affairs? You do not surely suppose that we are going to issue new shares and bring down the market, simply because you have realized at a handsome premium?"

"A handsome premium! O Lord!" moaned Sawley.

"Why, what did you get for them?"

"Four, three, and two and a half."

"A very considerable profit indeed," said I; "and you ought to be abundantly thankful. We shall talk this matter over at another time, Mr Sawley, but just now I must beg you to excuse me. I have a particular engagement this morning with my broker--rather a heavy transaction to settle--and so"----

"It's no use beating about the bush any longer," said Mr Sawley in an excited tone, at the same time dashing down his crape-covered castor on the floor. "Did you ever see a ruined man with a large family? Look at me, Mr Dunshunner--I'm one, and you've done it!"

"Mr Sawley! are you in your senses?"

"That depends on circumstances. Haven't you been buying stock lately?"

"I am glad to say I have--two thousand Glenmutchkins, I think, and this is the day of delivery."

"Well, then--can't you see how the matter stands? It was I who sold them!"

"Well!"

"Mother of Moses, sir! don't you see I'm ruined?

"By no means--but you must not swear. I pay over the money for your scrip, and you pocket a premium. It seems to me a very simple transaction."

"But I tell you I haven't got the scrip!" cried Sawley, gnashing his teeth, whilst the cold beads of perspiration gathered largely on his brow.

"That is very unfortunate! Have you lost it?"

"No!--the devil tempted me, and I oversold!"

There was a very long pause, during which I assumed an aspect of serious and dignified rebuke.

"Is it possible?" said I in a low tone, after the manner of Kean's offended fathers. "What! you, Mr Sawley--the stoker's friend--the enemy of gambling--the father of Selina--condescend to so equivocal a transaction? You amaze me! But I never was the man to press heavily on a friend"--here Sawley brightened up--"your secret is safe with me, and it shall be your own fault if it reaches the ears of the Session. Pay me over the difference at the present market price, and I release you of your obligation."

"Then I'm in the Gazette, that's all," said Sawley doggedly, "and a wife and nine beautiful babes upon the parish! I had hoped other things from you, Mr Dunshunner--I thought you and Selina"----

"Nonsense, man! Nobody goes into the Gazette just now--it will be time enough when the general crash comes. Out with your checque-book, and write me an order for four-and-twenty thousand. Confound fractions! in these days one can afford to be liberal."

"I haven't got it," said Sawley. "You have no idea how bad our trade has been of late, for nobody seems to think of dying. I have not sold a gross of coffins this fortnight. But I'll tell what--I'll give you five thousand down in cash, and ten thousand in shares--further I can't go."

"Now, Mr Sawley'," said I, "I may be blamed by worldly-minded persons for what I am going to do; but I am a man of principle, and feel deeply for the situation of your amiable wife and family. I bear no malice, though it is quite clear that you intended to make me the sufferer. Pay me fifteen thousand over the counter, and we cry quits for ever."

"Won't you take Camlachie Cemetery shares? They are sure to go up."

"No."

"Twelve hundred Cowcaddens' Water, with an issue of new stock next week?"

"Not if they disseminated the Ganges."

"A thousand Ramshorn Gas--four per cent guaranteed until the act?"

"Not if they promised twenty, and melted down the sun in their retort!"

"Blawweary Iron? Best spec. going."

"No, I tell you once for all. If you don't like my offer--and it is an uncommonly liberal one--say so, and I'll expose you this afternoon upon 'Change."

"Well, then--there's a checque. But may the"----

"Stop, sir! Any such profane expressions, and I shall insist upon the original bargain. So, then--now we're quits. I wish you a very good-morning, Mr Sawley, and better luck next time. Pray remember me to your amiable family."

The door had hardly closed upon the discomfited coffin-maker, and I was still in the preliminary steps of an extempore _pas seul_, intended as the outward demonstration of exceeding inward joy, when Bob M'Corkindale entered. I told him the result of the morning's conference.

"You have let him off too easily," said the Political Economist. "Had I been his creditor, I certainly should have sacked the shares into the bargain. There is nothing like rigid dealing between man and man."

"I am contented with moderate profits," said I; "besides, the image of Selina overcame me. How goes it with Jobson and Grabbie?"

"Jobson has paid, and Grabbie compounded. Heckles--may he die an evil death!--has repudiated, become a lame duck, and waddled; but no doubt his estate will pay a dividend."

"So, then, we are clear of the whole Glenmutchkin business, and at a handsome profit."

"A fair interest for the outlay of capital--nothing more. But I'm not quite done with the concern yet."

"How so? not another bearing operation?"

"No; that cock would hardly fight. But you forget that I am secretary to the company, and have a small account against them for services already rendered. I must do what I can to carry the bill through Parliament; and, as you have now sold your whole shares, I advise you to resign from the direction, go down straight to Glenmutchkin, and qualify yourself for a witness. We shall give you five guineas a-day, and pay all your expenses."

"Not a bad notion. But what has become of M'Closkie, and the other fellow with the jaw-breaking name?"

"Vich-Induibh? I have looked after their interests, as in duty bound, sold their shares at a large premium, and dispatched them to their native hills on annuities."

"And Sir Polloxfen?"

"Died yesterday of spontaneous combustion."

As the company seemed breaking up, I thought I could not do better than take M'Corkindale's hint, and accordingly betook myself to Glenmutchkin, along with the Captain of M'Alcohol, and we quartered ourselves upon the Factor for Glentumblers. We found Watty Solder very shakey, and his assistant also lapsing into habits of painful inebriety. We saw little of them except of an evening, for we shot and fished the whole day, and made ourselves remarkably comfortable. By singular good-luck, the plans and sections were lodged in time, and the Board of Trade very handsomely reported in our favour, with a recommendation of what they were pleased to call "the Glenmutchkin system," and a hope that it might generally be carried out. What this system was, I never clearly understood; but, of course, none of us had any objections. This circumstance gave an additional impetus to the shares, and they once more went up. I was, however, too cautious to plunge a second time into Charybdis, but M'Corkindale did, and again emerged with plunder.

When the time came for the parliamentary contest, we all emigrated to London. I still recollect, with lively satisfaction, the many pleasant days we spent in the metropolis at the company's expense. There were just a neat fifty of us, and we occupied the whole of an hotel. The discussion before the committee was long and formidable. We were opposed by four other companies who patronised lines, of which the nearest was at least a hundred miles distant from Glenmutchkin; but as they founded their opposition upon dissent from "the Glenmutchkin system" generally, the committee allowed them to be heard. We fought for three weeks a most desperate battle, and might in the end have been victorious, had not our last antagonist, at the very close of his case, pointed out no less than seventy-three fatal errors in the parliamentary plan deposited by the unfortunate Solder. Why this was not done earlier, I never exactly understood; it may be, that our opponents, with gentlemanly consideration, were unwilling to curtail our sojourn in London--and their own. The drama was now finally closed, and after all preliminary expenses were paid, sixpence per share was returned to the holders upon surrender of their scrip.

Such is an accurate history of the Origin, Rise, Progress, and Fall of the Direct Glenmutchkin Railway. It contains a deep moral, if any body has sense enough to see it; if not, I have a new project in my eye for next session, of which timely notice shall be given.

THE SCIENCE OF LANGUAGES.[8]

The past history of Mr Morgan Kavanagh is probably as little known to our readers as it is to ourselves. But his future destiny is not equally obscure. We have it, on his own authority, that he has made a discovery of unparalleled merit and magnitude, as simple as it is surprising, and calculated, in an equal degree, to benefit mankind, and immortalize its author. He has discovered the science of languages--a science in which the wisest hitherto have been smatterers, but in which the most shallow may henceforward be profound. In the prophetic spirit of conscious genius, Horace, Ovid, and other great men, have boasted of the perpetuity of fame achieved by their efforts; and Kavanagh, apparently under a similar inspiration, indulges the pleasing anticipation, that he has completed a monument more lasting than brass--of which material, it may be observed, he does not appear to have a deficient supply. He confesses, that on so trite a subject, the presumption is against him of so great an achievement; but he sticks to his point, and is sure that he has attained an undying name by his inestimable disclosures:--

"A discovery equalling in magnitude the one to which I lay claim,
must appear to all, before examining its accompanying proofs,
just about as probable as the discovery, in the neighbourhood of
the British Channel, of some rich and extensive island that had
escaped till now the mariner's notice. Then am I either
egregiously in error, or, through my humble means, one of the
greatest and most important discoveries on record has been made."

The alternative here allowed us is irresistible--_either_ our author is egregiously in error, _or_ he has made a great discovery. Who can doubt it? We feel at once driven to the wall by the horns of so dexterous a dilemma; and unable as we are, in the kindness of our hearts, to adopt the more uncivil supposition, we succumb, without a struggle, to the only choice left us, and concede to such a disputant all that he can demand.

Mr Kavanagh is determined that the importance of his discovery shall lose nothing from his reluctance to put it in the strongest light:--

"If, from having taken a view of the human mind different from
any other hitherto taken, and from having founded a rational
principle, in conformity with this view, I can offer such a
definition of words as may bear the strictest investigation, and
which all may understand; and if a child, by adhering to this
principle, may be able to account for words with all their
changes and variations, and show them such as they must have
been, not only ages before the Bible and the Iliad had been
written, but even as they were at their very birth; then it will,
I dare hope, be admitted, that I shall not only have surmounted
innumerable difficulties, but have discovered the real science of
languages. Yet all this, and a great deal more, may be done by
the application of the principle by which I am guided."

Again he says:--

"I am sorry that the resolution I have formed, of frankly speaking
my mind throughout this work, obliges me to express myself as I
do here and elsewhere with such an apparent want of modesty; but
were I to adopt, with regard to this discovery, and the knowledge
we have hitherto had of the science of grammar, what is
understood by a more becoming and humble tone, I should, by doing
so, lose in truth what I might gain by affected modesty, since I
should not only be speaking falsely, but be leading the reader
into error by concealing from him my real opinion, which I should
by no means do. And if while it be allowed, as I am sure it must,
that though I do well to speak as I think, it be observed that
this is not a reason why I should think as I do--that is, so
presumptuously--I beg to reply, that if I had never _thought so_,
this discovery had never been attempted, and much less made; for
notwithstanding what the world may say about the modesty of
certain great men, I do in my heart believe that such modesty has
been ever affected, and that it is wholly impossible that any
thing great may be undertaken or achieved, but where there is at
bottom great presumption, which is, after all, nothing more than
a consciousness of one's own strength."

This is all right, and no apology was necessary. Why should a man be modest, who, in the six thousandth year of the creation, has found out, for the first time, the science of languages? Though entirely devoid of originality ourselves, we can sympathize with the proud exultation of those who have produced a new and "glorious birth." From the cackling of the hen when she has laid an egg, to the [Greek: heurêcha] of Archimedes when he discovered hydrostatics, we see the instinctive impulse under which those who have brought to light a great result, are constrained to proclaim it aloud; and we should be thankful when the mighty inventor can refrain from rushing out, in native nudity, into the public way.

The discoverer of the science of languages, however, does not come forth upon us, like Archimedes, in a state of dishabille. Attired in the same fashionable garb, rejoicing in the same paper and type, and issuing from the shelves of the same respectable publishers, Mr Kavanagh's two goodly octavos may fitly range, as far as exterior is concerned, with the collected productions of Jeffrey and Macaulay, who will no doubt feel honoured by such good company. The fly-leaf at the beginning of the work warns all pirates and poachers "that it is private property, protected by the late Copyright Act;" and a foot-note seems to inform us that a French edition is simultaneously to appear in Paris. Who could doubt that such mighty notes of preparation were to usher in some _magnum opus_, worthy of the expectations thus excited?

Mr Kavanagh appears to us to have lived for some time in France, and if so, he has not lived there in vain. He has acquired the knack of framing a bill of fare, that would do honour to the reigning prince of restaurateurs, whoever he may be, and would create an appetite under the ribs of death. Take the following excerpts from the contents:--

"What the author should do before attempting to prove the
discovery of the science of languages. This he does, and a great
deal more."

"View of the human mind. That taken by eminent philosophers
inquired into, and found to be erroneous. The author's view of
it."

"Proof that there are no such words as substantives or nouns."

"Pronouns, supposed like nouns, but erroneously, to represent
substances. They never represent nouns, as they have been
supposed to do. Proof that they never stand for substances, nor
can be, any more than nouns, the subject of propositions. Their
real nature shown, and difficulties and locutions connected with
them accounted for. The original form of _oh me_! and _ah me_!"

"Thus far the author pretends to have shown that there is but one
part of speech."

"The author's account of the verb. Why it cannot be compared like
the adjective. The verb is an adjective or name in the fourth
degree. It does not represent an action. TO and DO. Shown how it
does not represent an action, and how grammarians have been led
to suppose that it does."

"How men expressed themselves in the beginning of the world, when
they had occasion to make use of the verb TO BE."

"The nature of a past participle in English and French. This
knowledge of a past participle in French leads to a precious
discovery."

"How to find the etymology of words. Instances given: the meaning
of _friend_, _mind_, _blind_, &c., shown."

"The origin of the termination _ish_ discovered. The etymology of
the words, _Ireland_, _Scotland_, _Dublin_, with many other
etymologies."

"The feminine and plural of _mon_, _ton_, _son_, explained.
_Mes_, _tes_, and _ses_, not plural numbers. _Notre_ and _votre_
do not come from the Latin words _noster_ and _vester_. No
language derived from another."

"The first names man ever had for his own dwelling, with several
other etymologies, such as _barrack_, _good-by_, _property_,
_coin_, _copper_, _maistre_, _castor_, _out-cast_, _caserne_,
_quoit_, _cat_, _quiet_, _discus_, _Apollo_, _tranquil_, _keel_,
_cuisse_, &c."

"The delicate meaning of certain words."

"The extraordinary wisdom displayed in the formation of words:
different accounts of the words _man_, _woman_, _Adam_, &c. The
meanings of _animare_, _animal_, _animation_, _beget_, _amo_,
_Venus_, _shame_, _honte_, &c.

"The etymology of _squat_, _cower_, _square_, _four_, _year_,
_fair_, _faire_, &c."

"In the account given of the letters of the Greek alphabet are to
be found explained the letters of all languages. To what this
knowledge may lead. Shown how the twenty-four letters make but
one. The dot over the _i_. A straight line, a circle, &c."

"The _ing_ in _being_ accounted for. Meaning of _big_, _wig_,
_mig_, &c.; of _hat_, _oyster_, &c.; of _eight_, _octo_, &c.; of
_nigh_, _near_, _night_, &c. The literal meaning of negatives and
affirmatives. What man's first oaths were."

"_Big_, once a name for the Divinity."

"How all numbers make but one. No such thing as a plural number.
Examination of the ten figures, 1, 2, 3, &c. Each of them means
_one_."

"Concluding observations resumed. The difficulty of believing in
this discovery. The great wisdom it contains. The language
supposed to be spoken in heaven."

"The advantages to be derived from this discovery. How
Mathematicians, Theologians, Grammarians, Lexicographers,
Logicians, and Philosophers, are likely to consider this
discovery. Other works proposed."

"The members of the press. Bookmaking. The many important
discoveries in this work lie in the way of its immediate success
with such minds as cannot receive new ideas. The view which the
man of enlarged ideas is likely to take of it. The author's
pretensions. His confidence in the ultimate success of this
discovery."

We confess we felt our mouth water at the glimpses thus afforded of the coming feast; and we are happy to acknowledge that what we expected was fully realized.

It must not be imagined that we are going to furnish, in these trivial pages, a full disclosure of Mr Kavanagh's discovery. There are several reasons for our not doing so. First, we could not, in common justice, think of spoiling the sale of Mr Kavanagh's book. Secondly, we are not sanguine that, in the space allowed us, we could make the discovery understood by our readers. And thirdly, we are not sure that we understand it ourselves. But, as far as consistent with these considerations, we shall endeavour to give such a view of it as may excite, without satiating, curiosity, and may give the means of conjecturing what the book itself must be, of which we are enabled to offer such specimens.

It is a common and allowable artifice, in those attempting to lead us up the hill of science, to point to some attractive object that is to be reached at the summit. Mr Kavanagh employs this expedient with great effect. He shows us, near the outset of our journey, one astonishing result to which it is to conduct us, and which necessarily inflames our eagerness to get over the ground:--

"That the reader may have in advance some notion of this manner
of analysing words, and discovering their hidden meaning, I beg
here to give, for the present, the contents of the analysis of
the English alphabet _collectively_ considered; that is, not as
to what each letter means when read by itself, but as to what
they all mean when read together in the following order:--

A B C D E F G H I (or J) K L M N O P Q
R S T U (or V) W X Y Z;

of which the literal meaning in modern English is--_This first
book is had of the Jews; it opens the mind, and is good breeding
and wisdom._ I shall show in the proper place how this meaning
may be found in the above characters."

The steps by which we are to reach a mighty secret like this, are given by our author in great detail; for, as he candidly observes--

"Though my discoveries are mostly about as evident as any thing
in Euclid, still, as they are new to the world, and require,
previous to their being received as truths, the disagreeable
admission that we have been hitherto in error; some art, besides
down-right logical persuasion, will be necessary towards bringing
the mind friendly to them."

The first discovery Mr Kavanagh seems to have made is, that he knew nothing of grammar; and had he stopped here, he would have been entitled to no small praise for discernment. But this was but a stepping-stone to greater things.

Mr Kavanagh seems by and by to have found out that "there are no such words as substantives or nouns; that is to say, words standing for substances, or representing substances in any manner." He discovered that such words, and indeed all words, are, whether it be true or not, sounds to our ears not altogether new. We had a notion that, at least, the term _noun_, _nom_, and _nomen_, meant properly a _name_, but of course Mr Kavanagh must know better. We must decline, however, to follow him through his explanation on this footing of the real presence.

But then comes an announcement of undoubted originality, "that all words called substantives are but names _in the fourth degree of comparison_; that is to say, in a degree above the one commonly called the superlative." We durst not doubt that Mr Kavanagh is here right; but, for persons of slow perception like ourselves, we should have liked to see a little more fully explained what are the first, second, and third degrees of comparison of those names, of which _hat_, _stick_, _thing_, _hand_, _foot_, &c., are the fourth degrees. Discoverers should bear a little with beginners; and we suggest that, in a second edition, a full table should be given of what we desiderate.

The view thus taken of nouns, leads, it seems, to important results, and, in particular, enables us to explain what Mr Kavanagh had been puzzling himself about for half his lifetime--the meaning of the expressions, "This is John's book," and "this is a book of John's." We had always thought that the first of these phrases was plain sailing, and that the second meant, "this a book of John's books--or, one of John's books," _ex libris Joannis_. But these simple suppositions cannot satisfy men of science, who require a discovery to explain what other men think they understand without one:--

"We can now account for what has hitherto puzzled all grammarians,
namely, the double possessive. This book of John's means, this
book of all John's; that is, this book forming a part of all
John's, of all things belonging to John."

"And how rich and full the meaning of this new possessive! What
an image it brings before the mind, compared to the wretched
meaning our ignorance of this noble science has hitherto taught
us to allow it to have! This book is John's, means, we have been
told, this book is John's book. How frivolous, how poor, compared
to, 'this book is part of all things corporeal and ideal
belonging to John.' How useless this repetition of the same word
book! and how incorrect! since if John possessed only one book,
and that we said, 'this book of John's is better than mine,' we
were immediately stopt, as we cannot say, this book of John's
book is better than mine. But now we know that this book of
John's, &c., means, 'this book is a part of all John's,' &c."

Our discoverer thereafter proceeds to analyse the personal terminations of verbs, of which he seems to give an elucidation highly satisfactory to himself, and which, we hope, will be equally so to his readers. It is obviously of oriental origin, being analogous to the astronomical theory of the elephant and tortoise, by which the Hindoos are said so clearly to account for the support of our terrestrial planet. "_Love_, _lovest_, _loveth_, or _loves_," &c., have been formed by combining the root with the inflections of the auxiliary verb, _to have_. He gives a very distinct table by which

"We see that _love hast_ has been shortened to _lovest_; _love
has_, to _loves_; _love hath_ to _loveth_; _love had_ to _loved_;
and _love hadst_ to _lovedst_. The _ha_ has been omitted
throughout, as, love [ha]st; love [ha]s; love [ha]th; love [ha]d;
love [ha]dst."

This is remarkably ingenious, and it must be from a very unphilosophical curiosity that ignorant persons like ourselves are tempted to ask how Mr Kavanagh explains the origin of the inflections _have_, _hast_, _hath_, _had_, &c. We have been accustomed to regard these terminations, though in a contracted form, as having the same origin as those of other verbs; and we doubt if it would command general acquiescence to say that "hath" was a compound of "have hath." But these are probably foolish doubts, only showing the small progress of our scientific enlightenment; and we feel assured that they would occur to no one who was once fully imbued with Mr Kavanagh's principles.

A similar theory is applied by Mr Kavanagh with equal success to the Latin system of conjugation; but we think it better to refer our readers to the book itself, than weaken its effect by any attempt at an abstract of it. We cannot, however, resist quoting Mr Kavanagh's account of the advantages to which his theories directly tend.

"And this inquiry has led me to the most important of all my
discoveries; since it not only showed me the original of the
endings of the Latin verbs, but also those of the several
declensions of Latin nouns, adjectives, pronouns, participles,
&c., with their several cases, genders, numbers, &c. And this
knowledge will not only apply to the Latin language, but of
course to all the languages in the world. From this I have been
also led to discover the real nature of a pronoun, and how words
have been made in the beginning of time, and how they have
increased from a single letter, or at most from two, to all which
they have at present: by which means we may see the state of
languages at different periods of the world, even such as they
must have been ages before the building of the tower of Babel;
which knowledge will, it is presumed, throw great light on the
ancient history of the world, since men must, in the composition
of words, have ever made allusion to things already known, and
such as might serve to explain the words they made. Thus is it
even in our own times, and thus has it ever been. I intend
towards the end of this work to give numerous instances of how
words were at first formed, and the various forms they bore at
different times; so that no doubt may remain on any man's mind,
either as to the truth of this, the most important part of my
discovery, or as to the advantages which may, from our following
it up, arise from it."

In pursuing this interesting subject, Mr Kavanagh shows the important part in etymology played by the Latin verb _esse_.

"Nothing of this has, however, been known. The greatest
lexicographers have not even suspected that _sagesse_ was for
_sage-esse_ (sage-étre,) so short-sighted is man without the
light of science; then much less did they suspect that for _to
be_, and _to go_ there was, whilst languages were yet in their
infancy, but one word. The learned, from their not knowing that
_sagesse_ is for _sage-esse_, must have lost discovering the
etymology of a vast number of words in all languages. Thus, all
the French words ending in _esse_, as, caresse, finesse, paresse,
&c., have never been accounted for; and, in like manner, the
etymology of all English words ending in _ess_ and _ness_, as,
car_ess_, happi_ness_, &c., has been unknown. But here the
reader, as he has not yet seen how we are to discover in words
their own definitions, may say, that though he can admit _caress_
and _caresse_ to be for _cara_ or _carus esse_ (to be dear,) and
_finesse_ to be for _fin-esse_ (être fin,) he cannot so readily
allow _paresse_ and _happiness_ to be accounted for after a
similar manner, since _paresse_ must hence become _par-esse_, and
_happiness_, _happin-esse_, which words _par_ and _happin_ here
offer no meaning. But a little farther on, he will know that
_par_ here signifies _on the ground_; so that _paresse_ literally
means _on the ground to be_, that is, to be lying down, or doing
nothing. He will also see, that the termination _ness_ has not
the ridiculous meaning assigned it by the learned, namely, "the
top or the foot of a hill" (I forget which,) but that it
literally means _the being_ (_en-esse_,) so that _happiness_ was
first _en-esse-happy_, (the being happy, the thing happy,) after
which, _en-esse_ became contracted to _ness_, and so fell behind
happy, making _happiness_.

"Here, not to perplex the reader's and my own mind, by the
considering of too many things at once, I am really obliged to
turn my view from the many important discoveries that rush upon
me, all emanating out of this little word _be_, or _go_, (no
matter which we call it,) in order merely to show how verbs in
Latin have, from this single word, formed their endings."

By and by it appears that if we are so much indebted to the Latin for their verb _esse_, the Latin is no less indebted to us for our verb _am_.

"But I have not shown by what artifice this past time (ibam) of
_eo_ is formed. It is, we may see, composed of two words, _ib_
and _am_; yet the latter word _am_ has all the appearance of a
present time or a future; as we may see it in e_am_, leg_am_, and
audi_am_. Then it is evidently to the word _ib_ we are indebted
for this word _ibam_ having a past signification; and as there
is now no such Latin word, we are led to believe that _ib_ must
be a contraction, and this at once leads us upon _ibi_, which
means, _then_, or, _at that time_. Hence, _ibam_ is a contraction
of _ibi am_, there being only the letter _i_ omitted. Now, as
_am_ is evidently a present time, and the same _am_ we have in
English, it means, "I existence;" so that when _ibi_ is added to
it, both words mean, "I existence then," or "at that time;" and
it is in this manner that men, in the beginning, made a past
time. If we now turn to the past time of _sum_ (_eram_, _eras_,
_erat_, &c.) we shall find that the same method has been adhered
to. The _am_ here is the _am_ in ib_am_; and now we have to look
to the word _er_ by which it is preceded, in order to find its
past signification. This brings us to _era_, or as it is now
written in Latin, _æra_ which, like _ibi_, refers also to a past
time, meaning _that epoch_. Then _eram_, which might as well be
written _æram_, is a contraction of ær_a_am, there being, as
before, but a single letter omitted, (the _a_,) and the meaning
is as before, "I existence _then_, or _at that epoch_."

Certainly if ever there was a man who "existenced" at an era or epoch, or rather who was himself the era, Mr Kavanagh may claim the distinction.

We are informed by the printer that our space is nearly out, and we must therefore draw to a close. We cannot better fill up the limits allowed us, than by selecting a few examples of our author's successful treatment of etymology. It will be seen that in the zoological department of this subject he is particularly happy.

"The third person plural, _étoient_, is a very curious word: it
literally means _the great lives_--and there is for this a very
wise reason. When this word first received this name, persons
were not referred to, but the winds of heaven; and hence the
propriety of the name _great lives_ or _great beings_; and also
of making this name signify afterwards _persons_ or _beings
gone_, since nothing can, to all appearance, be more gone than
the winds that have passed by. When _oient_ means _the great
lives_, it is to be thus analysed: _oi-iv-it_; or thus,
_ii-iv-it_; or thus, _iv-iv-it_. But when considered as meaning
but a single idea, it may be indifferently written _went_ or
_ivent_. It is easy to perceive that _ivent_ is no other than
_vent_, the French of wind, the _i_ having been dropped. Thus we
discover the origin of the English word _went_: we see that it is
the same as _vent_ or _wind_."

"As the French word _souvent_ means, when analysed, _all the
wind_ (_is-oii-vent_), it would appear that men in the beginning
of time received also the idea of frequency from the winds. But
in a country rarely visited by them, this idea must have been
borrowed from some other natural object. Thus the Latin word for
_often_ (_sæepè_) takes, when analysed, this form, _is-æ-ip-é_,
which literally means, _is the bees_. Here the word _bees_ is
represented by _ip-è_, of which the meaning is _bee_, _bee_; but
to avoid the repetition of the second _bee_, a pronoun, that is
_è_, and which means life or being, has been put in its place.
When it is remarked that this pronoun might as well be _is_ or
_es_ as what it is, it will be admitted that _sæpè_ might as well
be written _sæpes_. I make this remark to show how slight the
difference between _apes_, the Latin of _bees_ and _apè_ in
_is-apè_, which means also the _bees_. Now the English word
_often_ becomes, when analysed, _en-ov-it_, of which the literal
meaning is _the sheep-sheep_; the pronoun _it_ serving here as in
the last instance, and for the same reason, as a substitute for
the second word _sheep_; but this _it_ might as well be _es_ or
_is_. In Latin the word for _sheep_ is _ov is_, which must have
first been _is ov_; that is, _the sheep_: but when the _is_ fell
behind, it became _ovis_, and it has no other meaning than _the
one life_ (_is-o-vie_). Thus we perceive that _the winds, bees_,
and _sheep_, have, in three different countries, given birth to
the same idea."

Mr Kavanagh adds in a foot-note as to the word sheep--

"This is for she-bay; that is, _the female-bay_, this animal being
so called from its crying _bay_. Hence it would appear that the
word sheep (_she-bay_) did not in the beginning apply equally to
both genders, but that it was only in the feminine. When we
recollect that the _b_ and the _p_ are frequently confounded, it
can be easily admitted that, with our great love for contraction,
_sheep_ should be used instead of _sheeb_. An analysis of the
French word for sheep (_brebis_) confirms what I have here stated
with regard to this animal's being called after its bleat. When
analysed, it is _is-bre-be_; of which the literal meaning is,
the _bray bay_; that is, the _cry bay_ or _the breath bay_, for
the word _breath (bray the)_ is no other than _the bray_ which
became _breath_ from the article _the_ falling behind _bray_. And
this again is confirmed by an analysis of the word _bleat_, which
makes _it_-BE-_il-ea_, or _it bay il é_, and means, _the bay it
is_, that is, it is the cry of the sheep."

"_Mons_," says Mr Kavanagh, "is the original of _monster_ in
English, of _monstre_ in French, and _monstrum_ in Latin. Then
the literal meaning of these words is--_monster, it is to be a
mountain; est er_ literally means 'it is the thing,' and, of
course, these two words first preceded _mon_, thus, _est er mon_
(it is the thing mountain.) _Monstre_ is for _mon estre_, this
_estre_ being the infinitive _être_, and the same as _est re_ (it
is the thing.) _Monstrum_ is more modern in its form than either
the English word _monster_, or the French word _monstre_, since
it has in its composition the pronoun _um_, besides what these
two words have. Then the Latins had _monstre_ or _monster_ before
they had _monstrum_; and they must have said _um monstre_ or _um
monster_ just as the French say now _le monstre_."

"The word _chien_ becomes when analysed (and the explanation of
the alphabet will show how this happens) _ic iv ien_; or, as
_ien_ can be reduced to _iv_, we may say it is equal to _ic iv
iv_. No matter which of these two forms we adopt, the analysis of
_chien_ will be still the same, since both are expressive of
haste. _Ic iv ien_ means _the thing come_ or _go_, or _life
life_. Thus if we contract _iv ien_ to one word, we have _vien_,
so that _ic vien_ will mean _the come_; and this word is we know
expressive of haste, since _venir_, as we have seen in the
account given of _oient_, means the wind (_ir ven_). In like
manner _ic iv iv_ may mean _the life life_, which we know from
the repetition of _life_ must imply quickness. And hence it is
that _iv iv_ become when contracted, _vive_, that is, _be alive_.
Now when we contract _iv ien_ to _vien_, if we give to _ic_ its
primitive meaning, which is that of _here_, we shall, by allowing
that _vien_ in the beginning went before _ic_, have for the
meaning of both words, come here (_vien ic_). Hence it is we
still hear a dog called upon in English by _Here! here!_ and in
French by the word _Ici_ with the dog's name attached to it. The
English word _dog_ is also, when analysed, expressive of haste,
since it makes _id eo ge_ or _id-o-ge,_ which implies _the thing
go_, or _the go, go_."

We conclude this brief, and, we fear, imperfect notice of so great a work, by suggesting for the author's consideration, whether, in a revisal of his views, he might not bestow some attention on one or two other languages than English and French. His attainments in these seem to be of a superior order, and he seems also to have made considerable progress in the Latin rudiments. We do not hold that Greek is essential, but we respectfully submit that the acquisition of Anglo-Saxon, and some other older dialects of Europe, with which English is generally supposed to have some connexion, might with advantage be attempted. Not that we imagine Mr Kavanagh's views would then be changed or improved. The etymologist's eye, "in a fine frenzy rolling," may have intuitive perceptions of results such as no course of study could attain. But still there is a vulgar prejudice to which we think it prudent to pay some deference, and which recommends that, before writing on a subject, we should know something about it.

This, however, is a secondary matter, which we merely submit in passing. As it is, Mr Kavanagh has taken his place as a philologist on an elevation which only a few can hope to attain. He may be said to have done for language in general what has hitherto only been attempted in the field of Celtic speculation; but it is no light matter to have followed and outstripped in their course the illustrious men who have excelled in that more limited province. Henceforth the name of Morgan Kavanagh will be entwined in the same undying wreath with those of Lachlan Maclean and Sir William Betham.

SCRAMBLES IN MONMOUTHSHIRE.

A SEQUEL TO HOUSE-HUNTING IN WALES.

As we sat in the state of mind which has become characteristic of the gallant Widdrington--in the large room at the Angel inn at Abergavenny, wondering when our pilgrimage among the hotels would come to an end--a messenger of joyful tidings made his appearance in the person of our friendly landlord. He had just remembered that a house about three miles off was occasionally let--he thought it was unlet at that moment--it was the larger portion of a farm-house, originally occupied by the 'squire, but now in the hands of a most respectable farmer. We would hear no more; in ten minutes from this communication we were careering along in a one-horse car to judge for ourselves--our imaginations filled with the same celestial visions that blest the slumbers of the friar, in the song--

"All night long of heaven I dream--
But that is fat pullets and clouted cream"--

and before we had conjured up one-half the delights of a residence in a real farm-house, we turned in at some iron gates, drove up a gravelled avenue, and stood at the door of a very nice, comfortable-looking house, that in many advertisements would pass very well for "a quiet and gentlemanly mansion, fit for a family of the first distinction." The rooms were of good size--a beautiful lawn before the door--a well-filled garden behind--fields, hedges, trees all round--and the river winding through brushwood a few hundred yards in front. It did not take long to settle about terms. We were installed the very next day; and, after our ten days' wanderings, it was no little satisfaction to find once more

"All that the heart can dream of heaven
--a home!"

Trunks were unpacked, books laid on the table, and, in spite of the season of the year, a roaring fire went rushing up the chimney; and as we looked round, after candles were brought in, and the novel skies and unaccustomed earth shut out, we could hardly believe we had gone through such a succession of coaches and cars, boats, busses, and flies--Yorks, Westerns, Beauforts, Angels, Swans, Lions, and other beasts of hospitable inclinations--but that we had long been completely settled in our present quarters, while all these conveyances and hotels were the phantasmata of a dreadful dream.

Even in the best furnished houses, in Aladdin's palace itself, new-comers always discover some deficiency; and a few things were wanting in this to complete our felicity;--but Fate, which had frowned from every sign-board on us for a long time, was now determined to make up for her bad behaviour, and at that moment put into our hands a catalogue of household goods to be sold the very next day, a few miles off, at Oakfield Lodge. The one-horse car was again put in requisition, and our hostess--the kindest of women--accompanied us to the sale, and by nodding at intervals to the auctioneer, procured all the articles required.

A sale is always a melancholy event. A house looks so miserable with all its carpets and chairs and tables piled in useless heaps--the beds dismantled--and the rooms filled with a staring crowd, handling every thing, and passing its vulgar judgment upon curtains and drapery that the proprietor perhaps thought finer than those of a Grecian statue--on pier-glasses which had reflected shapes of love or beauty--on the polish of mahogany that had been set in a roar with wit,--a low, mean, savage-hearted crowd, bent on making bargains, and caring nothing for the associations that make commonest furniture more valuable than cedar and ebony. The auction on this occasion lasted nearly a week; and day after day the whole population of the neighbourhood streamed to it like a fair. It was a handsome house, and the arrangement of the rooms spoke audibly of taste and comfort. Selling the things that agreed together so well, to go into separate situations--the library table to one town--the library chairs to another--seemed very like selling a family of slaves to different masters; so, after a cursory glance at the dwelling, we betook ourselves in solitary rumination to the banks of the river. And a quiet, steady, calm, respectable kind of river the Usk is--not of the high aristocratic appearance of the Wye, with wild outbursts of youthful petulance softened immediately into grace and elegance--but a sedate individual, like a retired citizen, well to do in the world, and glad to jog on as uninterruptedly as he can. The grounds of Oakfield slope down to the water--and beautiful grounds they are--a line of rich meadows, shaded with stately trees, and divided into numerous portions by invisible wires, stretches for several miles along the banks; and the abrupt elevation, bounding this level sweep of grass and stream, affords an admirable site for two or three of the moderate-sized and tasteful villas that seem the characteristics of this vicinity. On pursuing our way through field and fell towards the suspension bridge over the river, we saw, emerging from a wood, a figure that Isaac Walton would have adopted immediately for his son and heir. He was a good-looking young man, but so piscatorially habilimented that there was no making out his order or degree from his external sophistications. Round his hat were twined spare lines; on his back, as Paris's quiver hung over his shoulder broad, was suspended a fish-basket; an iron blade of a foot or so in length formed the end of his rod; and, as if he had been afraid of the disciples of the gentle Rebecca, he bore an instrument something between a Highland claymore and a reaping-hook; and as we looked on his accoutrements, we thought we would not be a trout in such a neighbourhood on any consideration. Escape must be impossible for everything with fins, from a thirty-pound salmon to a minnow. As we got near him, he handled his rod with a skill and dexterity that left the young waterman far behind in the management of his oars; and, after a whisk or too in the upper air, he deposited the hook and line, not on the ripple in the middle of the Usk, but on the bough of an elm-tree.

"Here's a mess!" he said, with a half-despairing, half-angry look at the entanglement. He pulled, and it seemed firmer at every tug. We approached to render what aid we could.

"Here's a mess!" again he said.

"You can scarcely call it a kettle of fish," was our sympathizing reply; and by the aid of crooked sticks to hold the bough with, and the warlike weapon, which cut off some of the branches, the hook was regained, the fly found uninjured, and with mutual good wishes we each took off his several way.

There seems a good deal of amateur fishing in this country. In the course of our walk to the bridge, we saw three or four individuals flogging the water with great energy, who had evidently been fitted out in Bond Street, or who were perhaps taking out the value of the dresses in which they had enacted piscators at the fancy ball; but their success, we are sorry to say, was in no degree proportioned to the completeness of their preparations; and we suspect that people with less adornments, and a much more scanty apparatus of flies and fish-baskets, are the real discoverers of the treasures of the deep in the shape of trout and sewin. This latter fish, the sewin, we may add in passing, is a luxury of which the Usk has great reason to boast; for it is better than any thing we remember of the salmon kind, except the inimitable grilses at Stirling.

On returning from the sale, with the carriage loaded with our purchases, we disposed our new acquisitions in the different rooms, and laid ourselves out for a few weeks' enjoyment of the blest retirement--friend to life's decline--which we had struggled so hard to gain, and which now looked so satisfying in every point.

There is nothing to be compared, for comfort and beauty, to a dairy-farm. Arable lands are detestable; and the windows of the house generally look into a horrible yard, where the present agonies of the nose are made tolerable only by the hope of the rich crop to come. Here our windows looked upon a sloping green field, bounded from the road by a good thick hedge, at the distance of seventy or eighty yards. Beyond the road stretched fine luxuriant meadows, each bordered with its fence of noble elms, down to the river; so that we had nothing to do but cross the road, and wander among fields and hedgerows, miles and miles, either east or west--always within hearing of the gentle voice of the Usk, and often in sight of the long, still reaches of the river, that looked like beautiful lakes, fringed to the water side with willows and flowering shrubs. Seventeen or eighteen cows were our fellow-lodgers at the farm; and no sight is more fascinating, especially if you are fond of warm milk, than the long majestic march, and musical invocations, of the milky mothers, as they come home at evening from the pastures. Before three days were over, the names of all the cows were household words among the young ones; their very voices were distinguished; and it was decided that the flower of the flock, as to beauty, was Glo'ster, though some of us stoutly maintained that the whiteness of Handsome entitled her to the prize. Then there were about thirty sheep; but with them (in spite of frequent intercourse) we could only make out a general acquaintance--for we disbelieve altogether in the possibility of distinguishing one of the flock from the others. It must be the easiest thing in the world for a sheep to establish an _alibi_; and we are rather surprised that the impossibility of detection does not encourage some of the bolder of the woolly-sided heroes to some desperate outrage. There could be no identifying the culprit. But we saw no instance of spirit among them, except a wicked attempt on the part of a young lamb to overthrow authorities and powers; and we are sorry to say it was successful. Our friend the farmer discovered the presence of some insects in the wool, or rather in the body, of one of the yearlings. He proceeded, attended by us all, to extirpate this fatal enemy with his shears; and, having seized the sufferer, put its head between his knees, and proceeded to lay bare the hiding-place of the devouring grub. By some unlucky chance, the lamb got its head loose, pushed forward with two or three tremendous jumps, and the operator was thrown on his back, his feet in the air, and the shears held helplessly up in his discomfited hands. It created great consternation among the spectators; and the two younger children, after looking on in speechless amazement, thought, probably, that the assailant was a tiger in disguise, and sought safety ignominiously in flight. The patient--the lamb, we mean--was again submitted to the shears, the grub extirpated, and the cure, we believe, effected. The muscular power of a sheep is tremendous; and, if it were to get its head between the ankles of the brazen Achilles, down would fall the glory of Hyde Park. It is lucky they have not found out the secret of their strength, as they might take such a dangerous attitude as materially to raise the price of mutton--a consummation by no means to be wished.