greatest ease, and taught to speak with greater facility than even the parrot, and also enounces its words with more distinctness. It feeds on berries and fruits, and is particularly partial to cherries. When refused its wishes, it is stated to express sounds of disappointment and vexation extremely like the crying of a child.

The paradisca tristis is rather larger than the former, and inhabits the Philippine Islands. It is exceedingly voracious, and has been known to swallow a young rat nearly two inches long, after beating it against the wires of its cage to soften it. It alights on the backs of oxen in its unconfined state, and devours the vermin which annoy them. These birds are particularly fond of grasshoppers, and are stated to have been imported into the Isle of Bourbon, purposely to extirpate those consuming insects which they have effectually accomplished. Being as they are, however, highly prolific birds, devouring every species of fruits and grain, and occasionally entering pigeon-houses and destroying the young, the inhabitants of the island have often found their depredations greater than those of the enemy which they were called in to extirpate.

G. quiscula, or the purple grakle, inhabits Carolina, and other parts of North America, and also the Island of Jamaica. It is a very considerable nuisance to the farmers of those countries, by scratching up the maize seed almost as soon as it is put into the ground. When the leaf appears, these purple daws, as they are called, will often tear up the plant by the roots; and when the maize is ripe they commit their depredations upon it in immense flocks, insomuch that premiums have been occasionally given for the destruction of them. They are, however, extremely serviceable by devouring insects. They pass the greatest part of the winter in swamps, overhung with woods; from which, on days of fine weather, they make their appearance abroad. Their flesh is far from being excellent, but their notes are melodious.

GRAIN, the name of a small weight, the twentieth part of a scruple in apothecaries weight, and the twenty-fourth of a pennyweight troy. See WEIGHT.

A grain-weight of gold-bullion is worth about two-pence, and that of silver half a farthing.

GRAIN also denotes the component particles of stones and metals, the veins of wood, &c. Hence cross-grained, or against

the grain, is contrary to the fibres of wood, &c.

GRAINING board, among curriers, an instrument called also a pummel, used to give a grain to their leather. See CURRY

ING.

GRAMMAR. 1. The grammar of any language is a set of rules and observations, directing to the proper use of the sorts of words composing that language. These rules are founded upon the general usage of good writers; and after this is ascertained, it is customary for those who are desirous of speaking and writing correctly, to be uniformly guided by it. Grammarians, then, do not make a language; but they are formed by an enlightened view of the language, and afterwards direct the employ. ment of it.

2. The art of grammar is sometimes divided into four parts: Orthography, Etymology, Syntax, and Prosody. The first and last of these have nothing to do with grammar, except so far as they relate to the grammatical changes made on different sorts of words. Etymology refers to the arrangements of the sorts of words, and to the various changes which are made upon them. Syntax directs the employment of those changes, and the situation of the different sorts of words in a sentence.

3. Hitherto grammar has been spoken of as an art, but it is in no way our intention to enlarge upon it in this view. Those who wish to study it in order to guide their use of the English language, we refer to Mr. Murray's "Grammar,” and Dr. Crombie's work on 66 Etymology and Syntax;" and in the latter, many valuable remarks will be found, respecting scientific grammar. Considered as a science, grammar has for its object those principles on which its rules are founded. Scientific grammar discusses the grounds of the classification of words, and investigates the reasons of those procedures which the art of grammar lays down for our observance.

4. Grammar, as an art, refers only to particular languages; because it would be impossible to lay down any system of rules which would apply to two languages. We may point out in what respects the grammars of two languages agree; but we cannot form a common grammar for both. To a certain extent, the principles of scientific grammar are general, and some of them may be said to be universal. The laws of the human mind are the same in all ages, and in all nations; and of those causes which have

called forth its energies, many have operated universally. Whatever have been the variety of terms, and of the modification and arrangement of them, the grand objects of men, in the formation and extension of language, have been the same,—to communicate their sensations, their judgments, their reasonings; to express the objects of their thoughts, and the changes and connexions observed among them,-and, to do this with dispatch. This has produced great uniformity in the general principles of language. But the connexion between words and thoughts is arbitrary, as well as the mode of connecting words themselves. Hence, with much uniformity, we meet with much variety: and hence, universal or even general grammar, must be confined within very narrow limits, till the phenomena of a variety of languages have been examined, and their correspondence with each other, as well as their diversities, ascertained. For some of those more general principles which may be regarded as the foundation of language in general, we refer our readers to the articles LANGUAGE, and the Origin of Alphabetical WRITING: we shall here content ourselves with making the philosophy of our own language our principal object, though we may occasionally be led to state the more general principles of grammar, and derive our illustrations from other languages. Such a mode of procedure may contribute to render the practical use of our own language more clear and certain.

Of the Arrangement of Words.

5. The first object of scientific grammar, is to form an arrangement of the sorts of words composing a language. In languages which admit of various changes in the form of words to denote changes of meaning, the arrangement, in a great degree, is pointed out for the grammarian; and a technical classification will, in such cases, have a decided superiority over one founded purely upon scientific principles. In languages like our own, we are less shackled by the contrivances of art; yet our arrangements ought to have in view the advantage of practice.

6. The true principle of classification seems to be, not essential differences in the origin or signification of words, but the mode in which they are employed. It should, however, be steadily kept in view, that all distinctions among the sorts of words have gradually arisen out of the circumstances in which language has been

formed, and proceeded towards maturity; and that such distinctions are by no means to be extended beyond the present employment of words. It is necessary, for convenience and dispatch, that we arrange; but arrangement must not supersede further examination. The fact is, that originally there could have been but one sort of words, the names of the objects of our sensations and ideas. From these all others must have sprung; but, without words expressing affirmation, language must have moved very slowly, and often have been very ambiguous; and therefore we may reasonably suppose, that the ever active principle of association would soon transformi nouns into verbs, by making them in certain situations expressive of affirmation. From these two classes all the rest have sprung; and though it is desirable, and even necessary, for the grammarian to arrange, it should ever be carefully borne in mind, that his arrangements respect the present contrivances of language; and that he, who would look into the causes of these contrivances, must retrace the steps which have been trodden, and see what were the procedures of those periods when language was merely the child of necessity, not the organ of longestablished and intricate associations. The philosophy of language is one branch of the philosophy of mind, and neither will be fully understood till both are.

7. The objects of sense and intellect are, in reality, nothing more than properties, or collections of properties. The mind, however, resorts to a support for those properties; something by which they are connected; in which they exist: and this we call substance. As far, however, as this word has any meaning, it signifies nothing more than a collection of properties existing, or capable of existing, independently of other properties. These properties may be considered collectively; or they may be thought and spoken of, though they cannot exist, separately. We can think of no material substance which does not possess, at least, two properties; no visible object, for instance, can be without colour and extension; but we can think of extension and of colour separately, that is, we can direct the attention of the mind to each of them exclusively, of the other properties with which it may be connected. This separate or exclusive attention of the mind is called abstraction. It is a very simple, though a very difficult operation of the mind. It is often confounded with generalization; but though

ideas are connected in the mind.

"Mam

ma, milk good," would surely be understood by any one; and, in similar cases, depending upon the ease of inference, the ancient writers left it to the mind of the reader to form it for himself. But how slowly and how ambiguously communication would proceed, without some appropriated link of connection, any one may be convinced, by leaving out of a few sentences those words, which, in our language, serve that purpose, and which, in all lauguages, are necessary to render an affirmation complete. The intelligent reader, to whatever other account of such words he may have been accustomed, will perceive, that we refer to verbs. The essential quality of a VERB is, to express affirmation, when joined with the subject of the affirmation. Whenever a word expresses it, that word is a verb: if in any case it does not express it, it ceases to be a verb. That it does express affirmation is, doubtless, by an inference of the mind; in itself considered, it can only be the name of some quality or circumstance of its subject; but by being frequently employed with such inference, and, in the later periods of language, being invested with peculiarities of flexion, it acquires a character different, in appearance at least, from that of the noun, and, in many instances, is appropriated to convey the inference, that something is affirmed of its subject.

11. From verbs, or rather from the nounstate of verbs, in which they do not express affirmation, a new class of words is formed, partaking of the characteristics of the noun and adjective, and agreeing with verbs in the accidental circumstance of requiring after them a peculiar form of pronouns. These words are called PARTICIPLES.

another class of words have arisen, which, from the long disuse of the original forms of them, have lost their peculiar characteristics, and are now regarded as independent of them. They are now used to connect words, or sentences, or words and sentences; and, in general, point out some particular kind of connexion. From the employment of them, they may be termed CONNECTIVES; and under this class, we comprehend those words which are usually denominated Prepositions and Conjunctions. The distinction between these two sorts of Connectives, is merely technical; the latter requiring after them a peculiar form of the pronoun, and of the noun, iu languages in which the noun admits of flexion.

14. We feel obliged, very much against our inclination, to admit, as an eighth class of words, some of those which are usually denominated INTERJECTIONS, Words, of this sort are of very little importance, and, by many are thought undeserving of the name of words. Some are involuntary expressions of grief, or joy, or surprize, or some other strong emotion: and some may be used with the intention of informing others what emotions are in the mind of the speaker or writer. The former set have no more right to be called words, than the sigh of sorrow, the groan of pain, the laugh of mirth, &c., which no one calls words; for words are voluntary vocal sounds, employed to express our ideas to others. The latter set are generally found to be parts of sentences, or single words of the before mentioned sorts. Our great philosophical etymologist, Mr. Horne Tooke, has traced the origin of the greater part of them; and the few that remain, will probably be hereafter traced by some of those grammarians who are treading in his steps.

We now proceed to a few remarks on each of these sorts of words: our limits will allow of very little amplification, and will enable us only to present an outline to our readers. Those who wish for farther information, we beg to refer to the article GRAMMAR, in Dr. Rees's "Cyclopedia."

I. Of the Noun.

tion of them must, however, have been immediate. The difficulty of producing a great number of distinguishable articulate sounds, and the operation of the associative power, first led to generalization; convenience, perhaps we may justly say necessity, led to its extension and completion. When a number of things resemble each other in some striking particulars, we class them together in one species, and give to the species a name which is applicable to every individual included in it. When several species agree in some common properties, we refer them to a higher class, which we call a genus, and to the genus give a name which is applicable to every species and every individual included in it; and this classification we extend to the limits of human knowledge; and it is one of those admirable contrivances which are the result of necessity or of casual cireumstances, but which, being extended and perfected by science, contribute essentially to the progress and diffusion of knowledge. But though it is necessary, for the purposes of communication, that many names should be applicable to classes of individuals, it is also necessary that there should be others capable of denoting individuals, without the circuitous plan of naming the general term, and the distinguishing qualities of the individual: and, accordingly, we find in all languages numerous words, which apply to an individual only, or, at least, are at once referred both by speaker and hearer, to an individual. Those names which, when alone, apply to a number of individuals, are called general terms, appellatires, or common nouns; and those which, when alone, are used to denote particular individuals, are called proper nouns. Sometimes proper nouns are so applied, as to become common nouns, as when we say, the Cæsars, or the Ptolemies. These are instances of the commencement of generalization; but there is another mode of the use of proper nouns, which is more illustrative of the processes actually adopted, in employing terms originally denoting an individual, to denote classes of individuals, who resemble him in some striking characteristics: thus, we say, "the Bacons, the Newtons, and the Lockes, of modern times," meaning, by these terms, all those individuals who have resembled Bacon, Newton, or Locke, respectively, in the mode and success of their investiga

tion.

16. Though it seems to be a very simple procedure to form and appropriate names

to denote properties separate from the other properties with which we see them connected in nature, the origin and appropriation of such names must have been very gradual; and the contrivances which, in the natural progress of language, have been adopted to designate separate properties, are among the most curious procedures of the art of mutual communication. Mr. H. Tooke, who has indisputably conducted us further towards an acquaintance with the causes of language than any other author on grammar, considers abstract terms as (generally speaking) "participles or adjectives used without any substantive to which they can be joined." "Such words," he observes (Epea Pteroenta, vol. ii. p. 17) “ compose the bulk of every language. In English, those which are borrowed from the Latin, French, and Italian are easily recognized, because those languages are sufficiently familiar to us, and not so familiar as our own : those from the Greek are more striking; because more unusual: but those which are original in our own language have been almost wholly overlooked, and are quite unsuspected.” A large proportion of the nouns which he thus traces, are certainly not to be considered as abstract terms, according to what appears to be the customary meaning of that appellation, (such as view, the past part of voir, something seen; tent, the past participle from tendo, something stretched:) and others certainly require more explanation than he has thought right to give, (for instance, providence, prudence, innocence, and all the rest of the tribe of qualities in ence and ance, which he considers as the neuter plurals of the present participles of videre, nocere, &c. without shewing us why things foreseeing, or things not hurting, have acquired the force of the above words :) but a considerable number of his derivations are very satisfactory, and give great insight into the procedures of language. A few may be adduced as a specimen of his etymologies. Skill is the past participle of the Anglo-Saxon verb rcylan, to divide, to make a difference, to discern ; and it signifies that faculty by which things are properly divided or separated one from another. Sorrow is the past participle of rynpan, to vex, to cause mischief to, and is the general name for any thing by which one is vexed, grieved, or mischiered. Wrath is the past participle of ýɲıðan, to writhe. Heat is the past participle of þætan, to make hot. Doom is the past parti ciple of deman, to judge, to decrce.

17. Another class of abstract nouns, viz.