Among the infinite contingencies of the origin and successive modifications of words, it is very possible that the word _'sarkhara_, although meaning sugar in a particular tongue, may not have primarily related to its property of sweetness; and that, therefore, its phonetic form should not be accordant with that property. It may have meant the _cane-plant_, for instance, before its sweetness was known. Then it is possible that a derivative and modified form of the same word should happen to drift into that precise phonetic; form which is accordant with that property. But the marvel, and the point of importance is, that so soon as this happens, the 'instinct' of the race, even that of Professor Mueller himself, remains good enough to recognize the fact. 'Who does not imagine,' he says, 'that he hears something sweet in the French _sucre_, _sucre_?' But why do we all imagine that we hear what does not exist? The uniformity of the imagination proves it to be a _real_ perception. If the universal consciousness of mankind be not valid evidence, where shall we hope to find it? The consideration of Analogy as existing between the Ultimate Elements of Sound and Ultimate Rational Conceptions will be the subject of the next paper. FLOWER ODORS. There is a sheltered nook in a certain garden, where, on a sunny spring morning, the passer-by inhales with startled pleasure the very soul of the 'sweet south,' and, stooping down, far in among brown and crackling leaves, lo the blue hoods of English violets! The fragrance of the violet! What flower scent is like it? Does not the subtle sweetness--half caught, half lost upon the wind--at times sweep over one a vague and thrilling tenderness, an exquisite emotion, partly grief and partly mild delight? The violet is the poet's darling, perhaps because its frail breath seems to waft from out the delicate blue petals the rare imaginings native to a poet's soul. May it not be that thus, in the eloquence of perfume, it is but rendering to him who can best respond thereto, a revelation of its inner essences?--showing, to him who can comprehend the sign, a reason why it grows. Is this too fanciful? Certainly the violet was not made in vain--and in the Eternal Correspondence known to higher intelligences than our own, there surely must exist a grand and beautiful Flower lore, wherein each blossom has an individual word to speak, a lesson to unfold, by form and coloring, and, more than all, by exhaled fragrance. Doubtless there is a mystery here too deep for us in this gross world to wholly understand; but can we not search after knowledge? Would we not like to grasp an enjoyment less merely of the senses from the geranium's balm and the mayflower's spice?