1836.]

Philology.

accent of the primitives, as glorious from glory; humorous from humor. For this reason, I accentuate circuitous on the first syllable, and pronounce it in three syllables, (cir-kit-ous.)

I accentuate alternate, the adjective, on the second syllable, but the verb on the first. The reasons are: this is the general rule in the class of verbs to which this belongs; the most numerous class in the language, as abdicate, aggregate, consecrate, etc., but especially for another reason, that if we lay the accent on the second syllable of alternate, we must accentuate the same syllable in the participle, altern'ating, etc. This renders the pronunciation difficult, or less easy, than when a primary accent is laid on the first syllable, and a secondary accent on the third, al' terna' ting.

The same reasons are applicable to compensate, confiscate, demonstrate, extirpate, the derivatives of which are pronounced with much greater ease, when they have two distinct accents, the primary on the first, and the secondary on the third, com'pensating, confiscated, dem'onstráting, ex' tirpáting. These accents accord, also, with those of the nouns compensation, confiscation, demonstrátion, ex' tirpátion.

To this rule the exceptions are, such words as have harsh combinations of consonants, as inspissate, and also remonstrate, with an accent corresponding with that of remonstrance.

In opposition to the usual pronunciation of sulphuric, I lay the accent on the first syllable, as in sulphur; and in accordance with choleric, Cherubic would have the accent heretic, lunatic, splenetic, plethoric. on the first syllable, had not the poets placed it on the second, as they have in horizon, both of which are deviations from analogy, as is the accent of elegiac on the third.

Mineralogy and genealogy are sometimes pronounced minerology, geneology, but in opposition to analogy, and all good usage. The letter a before in these words, has the same sound as in generality, liberality, and analogy.

Orthöepists differ in the notation of wound, some directing the ou to be pronounced as oo, woond. But in all our best poets, wound is made to rhyme with bound, found, sound, and this fact alone should determine the pronunciation of wound.

The common pronunciation of humor is yumor, just as our most vulIn the name of good sense, of gar people pronounce yerb for herb. analogy, and of euphony, let me remonstrate against such an outrageous vulgarism.

Deaf was formerly pronounced deef, as the like digraph is pronounced in leaf, sheaf; and so our ancestors pronounced the word. The modern English pronunciation is def, evidently from the Danish dialect, and a departure from analogy; there being not another example of this sound of ea before f in the language. As the old pronunciation is yet used by a great portion of our citizens, and this is in accordance with analogy, it is very desirable that we should adhere to it.

Herd for heared is an old corruption; but heard accords in orthography with feared, reared, seared: and heard, thus pronounced, redeems the language from one anomaly.

Shone is, by the English, pronounced shon; a corruption which I believe is not known in this country, and I hope it never will be. When the usage in England differs from that in this country, and ours is ac

VOL. VII.

32

cording to analogy, I would strenuously adhere to our own practice. If in any instance we have the advantage in point of regularity, let us maintain it.

The English seem either to have no system in the regulation of sounds or accent, or they disregard them. Thus they accent catholi cism on the second syllable. No fault can be more obvious; and no rule more readily acknowledged than this: that the termination ism never changes the accent of a word to which it is added. Let any man cast his eye on the list of such words in page 132 of my Elementary Spelling Book, and he will be convinced that catholicism ought to have the first syllable accented; as jesuitism, from jesuit; favoritism from favorite; so catholicism from catholic. There are other tables in that book, in which words with like terminations are collected for the purpose of exhibiting the analogies by which the accentuation is regulated, an advantage not furnished by any other book of the kind.

One general remark ought here to be made. The accentuation of words, in our language, is subject to change. Several words have had the accent shifted from one syllable to another, since the age of Milton. This is a reason why the compilers of elementary books in this country should not rely implicitly on the authority of Sheridan, Walker, or other authors who wrote half a century ago. Thus acceptable was formerly accented on the first syllable, as was confessor, and commendable. But this practice is obsolete, or it has never been adopted in this country; and the words ought not to stand in our elementary books thus accented.

In my decisions on spelling and pronunciation, it has been my aim that no alteration of common usage should be dictated by caprice or arbitrary opinion. Whenever I have deviated from such usage, it has been in pursuance of some analogy, or other substantial reason; some sound principle in the construction of words which is considered to be idiomatic, or inherent in the language. The more we can raise the authority of principles over the caprices of custom, the more effectually shall we secure the permanent regularity of the language.

The defect of words in the English dictionaries, and in the abridg ments of them in this country, is too apparent to need proof. In addition to this defect, may be mentioned another. There are more than a hundred participles in ing which lose their participial use, and are used as adjectives, not one of which is noticed in any English dictionary, nor in any American abridgment of the English books.

THE STAR OVER THE WATER.

SEE that glorious star on high,
Shining o'er the tranquil main !
Which appears a second sky,
Where that star may live again.
Mark it in calm purity
Mirror'd in the glassy sea.

Now behold the evening breeze
O'er the quiet waters sweep:
That bright image in the seas,
Trembles with the trembling deep;

But departs not, for the star
Still is shining from afar.

So the Christian's heaven appears,
Mirror'd in life's placid sea :
So it shines through happy years,
In its pure serenity.

For undying hope must be
Shadowed from reality.

But if tempests should arise,
With the storm that hope may shake,
Though reflected from the skies,
It can never quite forsake;

And will still, while surges roll,
Tremble, and yet light the soul!

LEAVES

FROM THE COMMON-PLACE BOOK OF A GERMAN STUDENT.

'IN many of the German productions, there is something fantastic and ghost-like, something that does not seem adapted to this world, and reminding us of the fact, that the attention of the German author is oftener directed to the mysterious chaos in his own bosom, than to the world around him.' QUARTERLY SPECTATOR.

DEATH'S REVEILLE.

IN Hinnon's vale, under a pall of night, Death rests alone. The wind groans through his ribs. Tat-too! tat-too!— with a hand of bone he beats his rumbling drum. They start, -the murderers start. From wormy beds beneath the sod, their mouldering heads look out. Through bolted dungeon doors peer out white skulls, and the skeleton black that swung in the air, leaves the raven asleep on his creaking chain. The Annakim at Ashtaroth, the Syrian who slept on Abbana's and Paphar's banks, the Jew at Armageddon, the Greek at Phlegra, Colchis, and Mycale, wakes. The slumbering hosts of Panym land, armed knights and infidels at Ascalon, Aspramont, and Montalban, start to life.

Tat-too! - tat-too! To field! to field! They start. By meteorlights they march. Like a storm they rattle by. Their pattering footfalls cease. They're met. But neither shield, nor spear, nor steel, are there nor bright-eyed Asian, fair-haired Greek, or bearded Jew, has eye, or beard, or hair.

Death shot his iron eye along the serried files, as numberless as autumn's corpse-like leaves. My merry, merry men,' quoth he, ' ye glad the sight of Death; for ne'er met such embodied force on earth. Ye are a host, a sea of murderers. But now, with six long thousand years of toil, my bones are weary, and my darts are dull. Gorged Pestilence and War a-sleeping in their dens, on rotting bones and bloody knives, walk no more to and fro. Methinks I, too, will sleep awhile beneath the sod. Who 'll do meantime my nameless deeds on earth? To gorge and batten upon dainty infancy, ripened beauty, and savory manhood, he must be merciless. To let loose havoc, war, the plague to hurry on decay, sow thick diseases, keep his weapons bright, he must not rest.' He has ceased.

་

As when sepulchral blasts grieve through the church-yard cypresstree, the plaudit of that bony host comes murmuring along. Instant a mouldering form prëminent appears. Upon its front are crimson types, that seem to say: My merit learn from this. The streets of Rome, the Imperial, I made a place of weeds. By me, in Cæsars' palaces, the fitful night wind answered to the owl. When the wardogs did tire, Famine I let loose to prey on men, till they did feed on one another, and mothers upon their soft babes. The fairest of earth's lands I seamed with graves, till Attila was called the scourge of God, and my fast-flocking victims found Death's halls too small.'

The Visigoth is gone. Now prompt and fresh from earth, the farknown Corsican appears; fresh blood-stains spotting o'er his leprous bones, with characters whose import is like this: If faith to our great master win the guerdon high, who more true than I? If tireless ser

vices, who brought to our hungry hell a game so numerous? I murdered nations in a day. A continent my battle-field, where hosts of fair, brave men did melt away as snow-wreaths riddled by an April rain. Its rivers ran with blood. Blood made fat its soil. Dead - heaps on heaps of dead were piled, till the filmy air did rot.'

From far, a wasted form comes wandering by, and on its front an awful mark is set. Beneath its tread, blood crieth from the ground: Revenge, ambition, fear, made others faithful. I for our master's love a brother slew. I first did smear with blood the earth, as yet immaculate, and showed the murderous deed to million-multitudes of men. But for that act, a gentle race had tempered the fierce blood of those who now make of each other dainty fare for us, and murder been till now a word unknown. I am the first- the captain of the murderers!' Death yields him up his shadowy mace. They're vanished like the night. Darkness films the staggering earth, and faint and stagnant over it gasp the closing sepulchres. The murderer is abroad.

PART I.

THE stars are faint, the moon is sick,

The air is foul and black:

'I've slept too long,' Death, starting, shrieked ;

And whistled for his pack.

Sullen and grim, Murder strides in,

His locks are matted and hoar,

And his knife gleams bright in his eye's red light,
All crimson and clotted with gore.

From rattling bones comes galloping War -
The gloom lightens up to a glare:

O'er his lip and his chin runs trickling blood,
And his thunderbolt arm is bare.

On pennons lank whirls Famine in
On wings of grisly gray:

Her talons stained, her beak besmeared,
And reeking from her prey.

Flocking around, her hideous brood
Torment the air with moans:

Vulture Despair, and ghastly Hate -
Hoarse Madness wails and groans.

And down sweeps silent Pestilence,
Like rapid-striding night;

Within whose misty, poisonous breath,
Diseases dire delight.

Delight to flutter, whirl, and dance, as flies,
The pallid leaf on evening's gusty sighs.

DEATH. Faithful friends, and warriors true,

Death's resumed his shadowy mace.
On the sea and land once more,
Roam the round world o'er and o'er:
Hurry swifter than before

Hunt the hated race!'

MURDER. By day, by night, in field, on flood,
I'll stop his breath, and spill his blood.

WAR. Loose reins to slaughter I will give.

FAMINE. I'll gnaw, I'll gnaw him thin 's a sieve.

FIRST DISEASE. I will poison.

SECOND DISEASE. I will sting.

THIRD DISEASE. Blisters, boils, and rheums I'll bring.

FOURTH DISEASE. I'll shoot him through with torturing pains.

FIFTH DISEASE. And I will parch his galloping veins.

And I, and I, in merry mood,

Will peel his bones, and drink his blood.

SIXTH DISEASE.

"THE delightful mode of instruction by parables, has been successfully employed by Krummacher, by Herder, and by many other eminent writers in Germany.'

QUARTERLY SPECTATOR.

UPON a sunny and unfrequented hill-side, grew a solitary rose-tree. By it stole a mazy path-way among myrtles and violets, which the stranger's footsteps had never pressed. It was in the strength of its maturity, when a single bud burst from its topmost bough. This bud the summer-beam wooed with daily fidelity, and the bee loved to nestle among its petals. The lark stooped his airy wing in passing it by day, and the nightingale sang to it his sweetest serenade, on the nearest bramble, by night. But pride entered not the heart of this queen of flowers. It shed a perfume alike on the fragrant blossom and the scentless herb. It bowed over the humble violet, and smiled upon the unpretending, modest daisy. Thus the charity and beneficence of a lovely female are diffused alike on the humble and the high, the poor and the rich.

The west wind was blithe to blow around it. But it turned aside from his dalliance, heeding not his whispers, or his wooings. Other flowerets listened to his lures, and fluttered to his sighs. They were wafted far from the protecting spray, danced in gayety for an hour, then flung, unsheltered, on the cold earth. Remember, maiden, that the heart of her who heeds the flatterer's breath, shall be thus gaily wafted, wrung, withered, and tossed aside !

Proudly the parent stem summoned all its energies to lift high the head of its cherished offspring, that it might partake bountifully of the benignant light, and the invigorating air that it might be seen and admired. The rose repaid this fondness with dutiful affection. Often, at morning, did it distil the fragrant tear of gratitude, and at evening, it rested its fair head on the stem, as a prattler's round cheek reposes on a parent's bosom.

The fame of its beauty attracted a son of Pleasure. It won his admiration. Regardless of the agony of severance, he snapped it from the stalk. While its beauty lasted, he proudly displayed it to the giddy