Another case we remember at this moment in 'All's Well that Ends Well.' It occurs in Act II., at the very opening of scene iii.; the particular edition, the only one we can command at the moment, is an obscure one published by Scott, Webster and Geary, Charterhouse Square, 1840, and we mention it thus circumstantially because the passage is falsely punctuated; and we have little doubt that in all other editions, whether with or without the false punctuation, the syntax is generally misapprehended. In reality, the false punctuation has itself grown out of the false apprehension of the syntax, and not _vice versa_. Thus the words stand _literatim et punctuatim_: 'They say, miracles are past: and we have our philosophical persons to make modern and familiar things, supernatural and causeless.' The comma ought to have been placed after 'familiar,' the sense being this--and we have amongst us sceptical and irreligious people to represent as trivial and of daily occurrence things which in reality are supernatural and causeless (that is, not lying amongst the succession of physical causes and effects, but sent as miracles by the immediate agency of God). According to the true sense, _things supernatural and causeless_ must be understood as the subject, of which _modern and familiar_ is the predicate. Mr. Grindon fancies that _frog_ is derived from the syllable [Greek: trach (k)] of [Greek: batrachos]. This will cause some people to smile, and recall Menage's pleasantry about Alfana, the man of Orlando; It is true that _frog_ at first sight seems to have no letter in common except the snarling letter (_litera canina_). But this is not so; the _a_ and the _o_, the _s_ and the _k_, are perhaps essentially the same. And even in the case where, positively and literally, not a single letter is identical, it is odd, but undeniable, that the two words may be nearly allied as mother and child. One instance is notorious, but it is worth citing for a purpose of instructive inference. 'Journal,' as a French word, or, if you please, as an English word--whence came that? Unquestionably and demonstrably from the Latin word _dies_, in which, however, visibly there is not one letter the same as any one of the seven that are in journal. Yet mark the rapidity of the transition. _Dies_ (a day) has for its derivative adjective _daily_ the word _diurnus_. Now, the old Roman pronunciation of _diu_ was exactly the same as _gio_, both being pronounced as our English _jorn_. Here, in a moment, we see the whole--_giorno_, a day, was not derived directly from _dies_, but secondarily through _diurnus_. Then followed _giornal_, for a diary, or register of a day, and from that to French, as also, of course, the English _journal_. But the _moral_ is, that when to the eye no letter is the same, may it not be so to the ear? Already the _di_ of _dies_ anticipates and enfolds the _giorno_.