202 Proceedings of Royal Society of Edinburgh. [sess. 
It is also very difficult to notice where one series of waves ends 
and where another begins. For example, in the word Con-stan- 
ti-nople , the predominant sounds are those of o-a-i-o-ill, and the 
variation in pitch is observable to the ear if, in speaking the word, 
we allow the sound of the syllables to be prolonged. If we look at 
the record of the word, we find these variations in pitch indicated 
by the rate of the waves, or, as the eye may catch this more easily, 
by the greater or less length of wave according to the pitch of the 
sound. The consonantal sounds of the word are breaks, as it were, 
in the stream of air issuing from the oral cavity, and these breaks, 
owing to labial, dental, buccal, or glossal vibrations, produce sounds 
that have also often the musical character of vowels. Thus at the 
beginning of “ Constantinople ” we have, as will be observed on 
pronouncing the syllable very slowly, the sound ukko. This sound 
is represented in the record by a series of waves. Then follow 
the waves of the vowel o. Next we have the sound nn (driving 
the air through the nose), also represented by a series of waves. 
Next the hissing sound iss, which has first something in it of the 
vowel e or i , and then the ss-s. This sound also is shown by a 
series of waves. Then there is td , which has a double series of 
waves, (1) those for it, or t, and the next for d. This passes into 
the prolonged vowel d, this into nn, this followed by ti passing 
into the vowel l, then another nn, then a long d, then a sound 
like opp, and lastly the sound ill, a sort of double vowel sound. As 
so many of these sounds have the characters of vowels, it is im- 
possible by an inspection of the record to say where one set of 
waves begins and another ends. There are no breaks corresponding 
to the consonants; the vibrations of the consonants glide on as 
smoothly as those of the vowels. The nuniber of waves producing 
a word is sometimes enormous. In “Constantinople” there may 
be 500, or 600, or 800 vibrations. A record of the words “Royal 
Society of Edinburgh,” spoken with the slowness of ordinary 
speech, showed over 3000 vibrations, and I am not sure if they 
were all counted. This brief illustration gives one an insight into 
nature’s method of producing speech sounds, and it shows clearly 
that we can never hope to read such records in the sense of identi- 
fying the curve by an inspection of the vibrations. The details 
are too minute to be of service to us, and we must again fall back 
