August 1, 1888.] 



♦ KNO^A^LEDGE ♦ 



00 I 



spelled, were similarly pronounced. We have curious 

 evidence on this point in " Much Ado About Nothing." 

 " By my troth,' .sa}s Beatrice, " I am exceeding ill. Heigh- 

 ho." " For a hawkp. a horse, or .i husband ? " asks IMargaret. 

 " For the letter that begins them all, h," that is. for an 

 " ache " — heartache, as Margaret presently hints, when she 

 .says, " God send every one their heart's desire." Now we 

 know that the word '' ache " was formerly not always 

 pronounced "' ake," but often "aitch" — or at any rate in 

 such a way that "aches " was a dissyllable. For while we 

 have in the folio (our best guide in such matters) Othello 

 saying, '" Smell'-st so sweet that the sense akes at thoe." we 

 have in "The Tempest," '• Fill all thy bones with aches" 

 — and other examples attesting a variable pronunciation. 

 (Tlie elder Kean, following, it is said, Charles Kemble, 

 pronounced " ache ' invariably " aitch. ' But be this as it 

 may, Beatrice's lemark assures us that there was a conso- 

 nantal force in the name of the letter " h. " Indeed, the 

 vei-y circumstance that "h " appears in the name "ache" is 

 significant both as to the original pronunciation of the word 

 and as to the original force of the letter. There is no trace 

 of aspiration in the word '' ache " as we pronounce it ; but 

 also there is no trace of the present force of " h " (or rather 

 its want of consonantal force) either in " ache " pronounced 

 "aitch," or in such words as character, chagrin, or architect. 

 The v.ariability of the present force of " ch, " combined with 

 the entire absence of any aspiration in pronouncing any 

 form of the compound letter, shows that originally " li ' 

 represented more than a mere aspiration, and probably 

 represented more than one con.sonantal effect. 



Hence we can understand what otherwise seems so singu- 

 l.ar, that our "h.ard " is regarded by philologists as akin to 

 the Greek Icratos or Icartos, strength ; that " horny " and 

 " corny " are akin ; that, conversely, our"g,arden" (which 

 is the Saxon " geard " .and the old Engli-sh garth, etymolo- 

 gically identical also with "yard"), is from the same Aryan 

 source as the Latin hortus and the Greek chortos, an inclosed 

 place for feeding. In the last word, resembling the French 

 form, jardin, we find h, g. y, j, ch, all doing duty in turn — 

 which affords tolerably clear proof that " h " had originally 

 more than mere aspirational force, though it shows also 

 that the force of the letter was variable and unstable. 



Here, however, we are confronted by the fact that in old 

 Saxon words which afterwards had a decidedly guttural 

 jironunciation, and which are to this day spelled in such a 

 way as to show how they must formerly have been pro- 

 nounced, "h" does duty for the guttural. Thus, our 

 " light " and " sight " wore in old Saxon " liht " (or " leoht ") 

 and " siht." It is certain the " h " had some meaning here, 

 equally certain that up to the fifteenth century these words 

 had a guttural pronunciation ; and it is incredible (as con- 

 trary to the spirit of English language changes) that a 

 guttural should have replaced some lighter and easier 

 pronunciation, represented by the "h" in "light" and 

 " sight." 



AVe can understand, -also, when we recognise the con- 

 sonantal force given to the letter " h " of old, the singular 

 combin.ation " hw " constantly used in Saxon where we 

 write " wh." Thus " hwil " represented our " while," and 

 " who, which, what, when, why," itc, were respectively 

 "hwa, hwilc, hwa^t, hwainne, hwi," itc. The corresponding 

 words in Latin began with "qu," representing probably 

 the sound " chw " (" ch " guttural) rather than " kw." 

 We retain only the " w " sound, having almost lost in 

 England even the aspirate part of "wh"; the French 

 retain only the " k " sound, to which the Italian " ch " is 

 now equivalent, though probably once guttural. In Scot- 

 land the full consonantal sounds were long retained in the 

 old forms " quhile," "' quha," which probably resembled 



very closely in pronunciation the Saxon way of pronoun, 

 cing " hwil," " hwa," &c. 



Much might be said about the letter " h " as it now 

 appears in such combinations as " th," " ph," &c. Tliere 

 is abundant evidence that the two sounds now repre.sented 

 by " th," as in " thought " and " that," are really corrup- 

 tions of sounds correctly represented by " t " aspirated and 

 by"d" aspirated respectively. These sounds are still re- 

 tained in parts of Ireland. 



Our modern " j " again is a orruption of a sound nearly 

 akin to the consonantal "y." 



The changes which have affected the letters " 1 " and " r," 

 as shown by many passages in old plays (for instance, in the 

 play on the words " Walter " and " water," in Henry VI., 

 part 2, act 4, .sc. 1), are well worth studying by those who 

 wish to form some idea of the way in which our mother 

 tongue was prob.ably spoken by our forefathers, and in 

 particular by those among our forefathers to whom we owe 

 the parentage of English literature. 



But for the present — sat prata hiberunl. 



COLOURS OF ANIMALS AND FLOWERS. 



WAS watching not long ago the behaviour of a 

 chameleon in the midst of the bright sreen 

 leaves of ivy (of the kind sometimes called 

 railroad ivy) in a Florida garden. The lizard 

 (Dendrosaur, if the lovers of long words 

 prefer it) was so nearly of the same colour as 

 the surrounding leaves that my eye could 

 detect no difference, though 1 have a keen sense of colour 

 differences. While I watched, two events took place, each 

 of which illustrated the value of the chameleon's then dis- 

 played colouring. A small fly, itself somewhat resembling 

 in colour the ivy leaves, but as it appeared not sufficiently so 

 for safety, settled on a neighbo\iring leaf In an instant 

 the tongue of the chameleon was protruded and withdrawn, 

 so quickly that the motion could hardly be detected ; but 

 after the movement the fly was no longer on the leaf, nor 

 had he flown away. The chameleon seemed to know where 

 that fly was, for one of its globular eyes, which had for a 

 moment only been directed on the fly, was turned towards 

 myself witli a look which seemed to say in chameleon lan- 

 guage, " I had him there," the whole aspect of the lizard show- 

 ing that he still had him. A few moments later the gardener 

 approached, whom the chameleon .seemed to know better 

 than it trusted him, for it slipped away among the leaves 

 so dcftlj- that the eye could barely follow its movements. 

 (It must not be inferred that the gardener had made attempts 

 on that lizird's life ; on the contrary he valued the chame- 

 leon for his services ; but he had often disturbed it by 

 watering the plants on which it rested, and this was an 

 indignity which that little Dendrosaur resented.) A few 

 minutes after, the gardener having retreated, the chameleon 

 was on one of the sticks supporting the garden ivy, and 

 there it gradually assumed the same colour, .so far har- 

 monising with the stick that he seemed only an excrescence 

 upon it, not a live creature which a short time before had 

 been light green in colour. 



Among the various developments — protective, destruc- 

 tive, or simply attractive— okserved in animals and plants, 

 few are more interesting than colour. Let us consider a 

 few illustrations of the various forms in which colour affects 

 the development of life. 



Consider the striped tiger, on the one hand, as an example 

 of colour in an animal which lives by preying on others, 

 and the zebra, on the other hand, as an example of colour 



