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adjective belongs, which may be placed at a distance. This explanation is particularly strengthened by the structure of German, in which an adjective intended to be joined to a substantive is furnished with the terminations of gender, number, and case; as ein guter Mann, gute Frauen, das gute Kind; but in those which are not so joined, the terminations disappear; der Mann ist gut, die Frauen sind gut, das Kind ist gut; and the word is known to be an adjective by its signification alone.

We have said that simple adjectives are to be found in all languages. The Reviewer, on the contrary, asserts that "simple adjectives only occur (occur only] in particular languages." We imagine that this assertion is grounded solely on Tooke's chapter on the subject, as we are not aware of any language, destitute of adjectives, having ever been produced, except that referred to by him in the paltry sneer with which his chapter concludes; the language of the American Mohegans, as described by Dr. Jonathan Edwards. Surely, if Tooke had aimed either at discovering truth himself or communicating it to his readers, he would have taken pains to ascertain and explain how this extraordinary deficiency was compensated, instead of shutting up his chapter in the contemptuous manner he does, with a bare mention of the fact, which he thinks is to confound all his antagonists; quite keeping out of view that, even though this fact were to prove the system of his antagonists to be wrong, it has not the least tendency to prove his own to be right. It is remarkable that, though many have speculated on this passage, as it stands in the Diversions of Purley, no one seems ever to have thought of referring to the original work of Edwards himself. Even so diligent an inquirer as Dugald Stewart, after commenting upon it, confesses: "I am sorry to add, that of this paper of Dr. Edwards, which cannot fail to be peculiarly interesting, I know nothing but from Mr. Tooke's quotation."* To satisfy our readers, we shall therefore extract the whole passage from Edwards, as it exists in the copy of his work preserved in the British Museum:

"The Mohegans have no adjectives in all their language; unless we reckon numerals, and such words as all, many, &c., adjectives. Of adjectives which express the qualities of substances, I do not find that they have any: they express those qualities by verbs neuter; as wnissoo, he is beautiful;' mtissoo, "he is homely;' pehtunquissoo, he is tall;' nsconmoo, 'he is malicious,' &c. Thus, in Latin, many qualities are expressed by verbs neuter, as valeo, caleo, frigeo, &c. Although it may at first seem not only singular and curious, but impossible, that a language should exist without adjectives, yet it is an indubitable fact; nor do they seem to suffer any inconvenience by it: they as readily express any quality by a neuter verb, as we do by an adjective. If it should be inquired, how it appears that the words above-mentioned are not adjectives; I answer, it appears as they have all the same variations and declensions of other verbs. 'To walk' will be acknowledged to be a verb. This verb is declined thus; npumseh, 'I walk;' kpumseh, 'thou walkest;' pumissoo, ‘he walketh;' npumsehnuh, 'we walk;' kpumsehnuh, 'ye walk;' pumissouk, ‘they walk.' In the same manner are the words in question declined: npehtuhquisseh, 'I am tall;' kpehtuhquisseh, thou art tall;' pehtuhqaissoo, 'he is tall;' npehtuhquissehnuh, we are tall;' kpehtuhquissehnuh, ‘ye are tall;' pehtuhquissouk, 'they are tall.' Though the Mohegans have no proper adjectives, they have participles to all their verbs: as pehtuhquisseet, the man who is tall;' paumseet, the man who walks;' waunseet, the man who is beautiful;' oicet, 'the man who lives or dwells in a place;' oioteet, the man who fights.' So in the

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* Elem. of Philos. of Hum. Mind, vol. iii. chap. 1.

Asiat.Journ.N.S.VOL.22. No.86.

plural: pehtuhquisseecheek, 'the tall men ;' paumseecheek, they who walk,' &c. It is observable of the participles of this language, that they are declined through the persons and numbers, in the same manner as verbs: thus, paumseuh, 'I walking;' paumse-an, 'thou walking;' paumseet, 'he walking;' paum seouk, we walking;' paumseauque, 'ye walking;' paumsecheek, 'they walking.' They have no relative corresponding to our who or which. Instead of 'the man who walks,' they say, 'the walking man,' or 'the walker.""*

The reader may now judge how far the Mohegan language is really destitute of adjectives; to us, on the contrary, it appears to be as well stocked with them as any other; the only difference being, that their inflections are made to include not only gender and number, but also the variations of time simply, which constitute the substantive verb of other tongues. It cannot fail to be observed, how carefully and most unfairly Tooke has suppressed every part of this quotation which makes against his own system. We find no traces in Mohegan of adjectives being expressed by a substantive with add or join, or of the attribution of one substance to another substance.

Such, then, is what may be called the theory of adjectives. Those expres sive of simple qualities are denoted by words absolutely primitive; those expressive of qualities peculiarly related to certain substances, are formed by the names of those substances, having affixed a termination indicating that the word is converted into the name of a quality. In languages of one gender,→ as English, Persian, and Bengalee,-simple adjectives have no terminations whatever, and derivative adjectives have the terminations of quality only. The connexion between substantives and their adjectives is, therefore, in these languages, pointed out by their proximity of situation. In languages of more than one gender, as Latin, Greek, and Sanscrit, simple adjectives have a ter mination indicating to which of the classes of substantives, as recognised in these languages, the adjective is to be applied; that is, they have a termination of gender; their derivative adjectives have a double termination, of both quality and gender united. In consequence, adjectives in those languages may be dissevered and placed at a distance from their substantives.

The terminations of gender have not yet been shewn to be derivations from any self-significant words. Whether any of the terminations of quality be contractions of some such words bearing an analogy in absolute meaning to the modificative power of the termination, is a question of etymology, which no way affects the nature of the termination as it actually exists in language. But this point will be more fully considered when we come to speak of the termi nations of verbs. In the mean time, it will be sufficient to observe, that the attempt to resolve all adjectives into substantives, attributable to other substantives, is at variance, not only with the facts of language, but with the principles of logic.

Page 10, of the London Edition, 1789.

DILKUSHEE AND CHUNCHUL.

A TALE OF LUCKNOW.

NOTWITHSTANDING the extreme strictness of the rule maintained in the household of Abdul Hamed Khan, one of the ameers of the court of the king of Oude, the inmates of the zenana were both apprized of, and ventured to converse about, occurrences taking place in the city, with which it was supposed they could have nothing whatever to do. A great man among the Feringhees, a burra lord sahib, no less, in fact, than Commander-in-chief, was coming to pay his respects to the king, at Lucknow, and consequently the whole community were in motion, and nothing else was talked of from one end of the city to the other. Now Abdul Hamed Khan was one of those stern Mohammedans, who hated the Christian rulers of the land with the fierce hatred of fanaticism, and declared that, if every true believer would only throw a handful of earth upon the kafirs, they would be overwhelmed. He felt, therefore, highly enraged at the homage which the king, his master, was preparing to pay to this infidel, and had excused himself upon the plea of business, which called him to a distant jaghire, from appearing with the rest of the nobles of the court, to assist at the ceremonials about to take place. It so happened, that Mobarak Begum, which, being translated, means 'the propitious queen,' Omdak Khanum (the valuable lady'), and Nooranee ("the luminous '), the three wives of Abdul, were remarkable for the rigid propriety of their conduct, and for the deference which they paid to their husband's behests; consequently, the other females of the zenana were kept in great order; and though, upon the present occasion, there was a good deal more chattering than usual about affairs which ought not to have concerned them, there was only one person in the whole circle who dreamed of infringing her known duties.

This was Chunchul ('the frolicsome '), a clever gypsey, who well deserved her name. She was the daughter of a confidential servant of the Ameer's, whose widow and child had been taken into the zenana after his death, which happened before he had been able to provide for them himself. As she grew up, she became very strongly attached to Dilkushee, justly called the charming (literally, the drawer of hearts'), the daughter of Mobarak Begum beforementioned; and though Dilkushee was gentle and timid, while her companion had the courage of the lion joined to the subtlety of the fox, they suited each other exceedingly well, the one supplying the qualities wanted by her friend. Chunchul had, of course, been accustomed to somewhat more liberty than had been granted to Dilkushee; nevertheless, she had seen, and heard, and been a party to, many things which seemed quite beyond the reach of a being apparently so completely sequestered. But bars and bolts, high walls, and watchful duennas, are insufficient to control a wilful woman; and Chunchul, though free from all depravity of mind, took a wicked pleasure in the indulgence of forbidden amusements: not, as she was wont to say, they were actually forbidden, because nobody imagined for a moment that she would think of acting in a manner which would draw down the severest weight of resentment upon her head. She had gone in and out of the house very frequently, without a single person belonging to it being aware of the possibility of such a thing, and it was a long time before she mentioned the circumstance to Dilkushee. Shocked and horrified, the innocent confidante not only marvelled exceedingly at her audacity, but wondered how she could wish to pass the boundaries prescribed by the customs of her country,-customs which

she supposed to be universal over the world; for though she had heard of England and the English, and of the pork-eating and wine-drinking propensities common to Europeans, the liberty of the women was a subject never touched upon in the zenana. Dilkushee, however, too kind and affectionate to betray her friend, gradually overcame the apprehension and displeasure with which she had at first listened to her communications. Her curiosity was aroused by the strange accounts detailed by Chunchul, who had visited the bazaars, and had picked up a great quantity of news of all descriptions, Moreover, she had seen English ladies going to and from the presidency, in European carriages, and though she did not know whether exactly to approve of their appearing sometimes with three gentlemen in the same landau, yet altogether she rather preferred their mode of conducting themselves, and thought at least that some of their customs might be adopted with advantage. Dilkushee listened until she felt a secret desire to seek an opportunity of forming her own opinion upon the subject; but this desire she concealed with the utmost caution, because she knew that, if her companion should suspect that she could entertain such a wish for a moment, she would never cease from importuning her to gratify it; and, firm in integrity, she determined to forbear.

Though losing none of the sweetness of her disposition, Dilkushee grew somewhat restless and discontented. Hitherto, she had felt perfectly satisfied with her lot, not being aware that it was not shared by every individual of her sex and condition; and having formed the most vague notions of that portion of the universe, which stretched itself beyond the walls of the garden. Abdul Hamed's females were particularly pious; they were Soonees of the most rigid description, keeping the fasts, and celebrating the obsequies commemorative of the unhappy fate of the sons of Ali, without any of that idolatrous pageantry which distinguished the ceremonials of the opposite sect. Mobarak Begum, if possible, exceeded her husband in fanaticism, and, during the Mohurrum and the Ramazan, the praying and preaching were incessant. Excepting in occasional visits of state, the ladies of Abdul Hamed's family received little company, their guests being chiefly limited to a few, what are termed well-educated females, the daughters of poor Syūds, who have no hope of marriage, in consequence of their lacking a dowry.

Mobarak Begum not only governed the whole of the zenana, but led the opinions of the other women, wives, concubines, and slaves, all of whom, with the exception of Chunchul, looked upon her as the oracle of wisdom. She affected much the society of the Artoojee, as their religious women are familiarly called, and occupied by far the greater portion of her time in preparation for the fasts and festivals which were to take place throughout the year. Being rich, she lavished large sums in money and valuable gifts on the female descendants of the Prophet,-these poor Syūd ladies,-notwithstanding a little scandal attached to one, supposed to be the most devout, who, having scraped together a considerable sum, became the wife of a rakish fellow, notoriously destitute of religious principle. The pious employments of Mobarak estranged her a good deal from her daughter, for whom if she felt any sort of affection, she refrained from displaying it. Though her conduct to an only child might not have been stigmatized as unkind, it was certainly indifferent, and Dilkushee, somewhat neglected by the rest of the ladies, who took the tone from their chief, and were outrageously devout, might have felt the want of kindness, had it not been for Chunchul, who, with all her faults, had the kindest and tenderest of hearts.

The Ameer's house was both large and magnificent, having a spacious garden, which (he being considerate in some respects) was exclusively appropriated to the females of his family. Three sides of the quadrangle were dedicated to the apartments of the women, very picturesquely built, and ranging over long corridors, the windows all being on the inside, and a high blank wall rising above. On the fourth side, the wall was lower, but this only opened into a narrow court-yard, leading to the dwelling-house of the master of the family: the house itself forming a formidable barrier towards the street. Beyond these walls, nothing but sky was to be seen, with the exception of some tall minarets, which towered above them in the neighbourhood, and on which the only person ever visible was the moollah, chaunting the muezzin at morning and evening prayer. The garden was, however, very tastefully laid out, shaded by many tall trees, watered by a large tank and numerous fountains, and in its dove-cotes, and other accommodations for the animals kept as pets, affording both excuse and shelter for Dilkushee and Chunchul, when they chose to absent themselves from the drowsy occupations of their companions. Chunchul was known to pass a great deal of her time in the baths and pigeonhouses of this garden; she was neither missed nor wanted by any save her bosom-friend, who never called attention to her evasion from the prayers and pious reading, lest it might be the means of bringing her into disgrace. When Dilkushee knew that the adventurous Chunchul had presumed to pass the boundaries of her prison, she withdrew herself more frequently, and for longer periods, from the accustomed circle; not that she had any intention to join her friend in her wild flights, but because she grew nervous and uncomfortable during her absence, and thought that, if both should be missed and sought, and she were found, the truant might be supposed to be quite as harmlessly employed.

Disturbed by the conversations of Chunchul, Dilkushee, when alone in the garden, seated beside a fountain, and stringing rosaries of the fragrant jessamine, would look into the eyes of her favourite gazelle, and burst into tears. She began to entertain doubts of the happiness she had confidently expected would be her lot in life, and to wonder whether it would be possible for her to love the man whom her parents had selected for her husband. Until now, she had imagined that, as a matter of course, she should regard the betrothed of her infancy as the ladies of the zenana regarded the Ameer, her father, whom they esteemed the wisest and best of mankind.

Chunchul, it seems, had entertained her doubts respecting the chance of her liking the man selected for her long before. She had been destined by her mother and the Ameer, before the death of the former, to marry a person, who, though of very low birth, the descendant of a slave converted from Hindooism, had ingratiated himself into Abdul Hamed's favour, and was, mereover, possessed of some wealth. This man she could have no opportunity of seeing until the period of her nuptials, unless she could manage to get out. Get out she did, at first in disguise, but afterwards she found a mode of egress and regress, which none knew of but herself. In the early part of her perambulations through the city, Chunchul had taken care to reconnoitre the Ameer's house and those adjoining: on one side, the buildings were low and rather mean; but, on the other, rose a mansion equally imposing, but different in its architecture. Between the lower and upper floors, there ran a gallery, latticed in with trellis-work, partly wood and partly stone, which seemed to have been built solely for ornament, as there was no visible communication with the interior, a dead wall only appearing behind it. Thinking what a good place that would

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