rap," the symbol for "hand," 手 or 扌, was added, making 扣; while to express "button," the symbol for "metal," 金 was added, making 釦. So that we have _k'ou_ = "mouth," hand-_k'ou_ = "to rap," and metal-_k'ou_ = "button." Let us take a picture of an idea. We have 東 _tung_ = the sun seen through the trees,—"the east." When the early Chinese wished to write down _tung_ "to freeze," they simply took the already existing 東 as the phonetic base, and added to it "an icicle," 冫, thus 凍. And when they wanted to write down _tung_ "a beam," instead of "icicle," they put the obvious indicator 木 "wood," thus 棟. We have now got the two portions into which the vast majority of Chinese characters can be easily resolved. There is first the phonetic base, itself a character originally intended to represent some thing or idea, and then borrowed to represent other things and ideas similarly pronounced; and secondly, the indicator, another character added to the phonetic base in order to distinguish between the various things and ideas for which the same phonetic base was used. All characters, however, do not yield at once to the application of our rule. 要 _yao_ "to will, to want," is composed of 西 "west" and 女 "woman." What has western woman to do with the sign of the future? In the days before writing, the Chinese called the waist of the body _yao_. By and by they wrote 要, a rude picture of man with his arms akimbo and his legs crossed, thus accentuating the narrower portion, the waist. Then, when it was necessary to write down _yao_, "to will," they simply borrowed the already existing word for "waist." In later times, when writing became more exact, they took the indicator 月 "flesh," and added it wherever the idea of waist had to be conveyed. And thus 腰 it is still written, while _yao_, "to will, to want," has usurped the character originally invented for "waist." In some of their own identifications native Chinese scholars have often shown themselves hopelessly at sea. For instance, 天 "the sky," figuratively God, was explained by the first Chinese lexicographer, whose work has come down to us from about one hundred years after the Christian era, as composed of 一 "one" and 大 "great," the "one great" thing; whereas it was simply, under its oldest form, [Illustration], a rude anthropomorphic picture of the Deity. Even the early Jesuit Fathers of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, to whom we owe so much for pioneer work in the domain of Sinology, were not without occasional lapses of the kind, due no doubt to a laudable if excessive zeal. Finding the character 船, which is the common word for "a ship," as indicated by 舟, the earlier picture-character for "boat" seen on the left-hand side, one ingenious Father proceeded to analyse it as follows:— 舟 "ship," 八 "eight," 口 "mouth" = eight mouths on a ship—"the Ark."