"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 shortsighted 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, caress, happiness, &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 hap piness.

"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 eam, legam, and audiam. Then it is evidently to the word ib we are indebted for this word ibam having

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 (sæpè) takes, when analysed, this form, is-a-ip-e, 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 isapè, 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 femalebay, 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 band the pare 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 ble t, 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 fol-lowed 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.

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 Aberga venny, 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 farmhouse, 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

and before we had conjured up onehalf 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

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 The one-horse car Lodge. again put in requisition, and our hostess the kindest of womenaccompanied us to the sale, and by nodding at intervals to the auctioneer, procured all the articles required.

was

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, savagehearted crowd, bent on making bargains, and caring nothing for the associations that make commonest furniture more valuable than cedar and ebony.

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,

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 goodlooking 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 fishbasket; 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 reapinghook; 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 every thing 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 dairyfarm. 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