afterwards made that animal the emblem of all earthly existence and earthly energy; so it is extraordinary to see, (as Augustus William Schlegel has shewn by an interesting comparison of the words which designate either of these objects in various languages of a kindred stem,) it is extraordinary to see what mutual light and illustration they reflect on each other. The Indian and Persian word, _gau_, with which the German _kuh_, (cow) perfectly coincides, quite agrees with the Greek word for earth, in the old Doric form of γα: the Latin _bos_, (ox) in its inflection _bovis_ or _bove_, belongs to a whole family of Sanscrit words, such as _bhu_, _bhuva_, _bhumi_, which signify the earth or earthly, or whatever is remotely connected therewith. So originally in this language one and the same word served to denote the earth and the bull. Comparisons of this sort, when not strained by etymological subtilty, but founded on matter of fact and clear self-evident deductions, may offer much curious illustration of the state of opinion, and the nature and connexion of ideas in the primitive and mythic ages, or may serve at least to give us a clearer and more lively insight into the secret operations of the human mind, and into the modes of thinking prevalent among ancient nations. And, besides the few instances here cited, we might adduce many hundred examples of a similar kind. As language in itself forms one of the corner-stones of man's history (and that not the least important), and as the different tongues spread in such amazing variety over the inhabited globe, are essentially connected with universal history, and the history of particular races; it is necessary to say a few words on this subject, not that we would plunge deeper, than is here expedient, into the vast and immense labyrinth of languages; but in order to shew the point of view whence the philosophic historian should take his survey, if he would gain a clear and comprehensive notion of this otherwise immeasurable chaos. Perhaps the shortest way for this would be to figure to oneself all the different dialects and modes of speech diffused over the habitable globe, under the general image of a pyramid of languages of three degrees, separated one from the other by a very simple principle of division. The broad basis of this pyramid would be formed by those languages whose roots and primitive words are mostly monosyllabic, and which either are entirely without a grammar like the Chinese language, or at best display only the rude lineaments of a very simple and imperfect grammatical structure. The languages belonging to this class are by far the most considerable in number, and the most widely spread over the four quarters of the globe; and if, in a general philological investigation, we would wish to reduce these to any species of classification, we must adopt a geographical mode of arrangement, and designate them, for example, as the languages of Northern and Eastern