n, in the Italick
letter.

Another question may arise with regard to appellatives, or the names of
species. It seems of no great use to set down the words _horse, dog,
cat, willow, alder, daisy, rose_, and a thousand others, of which it
will be hard to give an explanation, not more obscure than the word
itself. Yet it is to be considered, that, if the names of animals be
inserted, we must admit those which are more known, as well as those
with which we are, by accident, less acquainted; and if they are all
rejected, how will the reader be relieved from difficulties produced by
allusions to the crocodile, the chameleon, the ichneumon, and the
hyaena? If no plants are to be mentioned, the most pleasing part of
nature will be excluded, and many beautiful epithets be unexplained. If
only those which are less known are to be mentioned, who shall fix the
limits of the reader's learning? The importance of such explications
appears from the mistakes which the want of them has occasioned: had
Shakespeare had a dictionary of this kind, he had not made the
_woodbine_ entwine the _honeysuckle_; nor would Milton, with
such assistance, have disposed so improperly of his _ellops_ and
his _scorpion_.

Besides, as such words, like others, require that their accents should
be settled, their sounds ascertained, and their etymologies deduced,
they cannot be properly omitted in the Dictionary. And though the
explanations of some may be censured as trivial, because they are almost
universally understood, and those of others as unnecessary, because they
will seldom occur, yet it seems not proper to omit them; since it is
rather to be wished that many readers should find more than they expect,
than that one should miss what he might hope to find.

When all the words are selected and arranged, the first part of the work
to be considered is the orthography, which was long vague and uncertain;
which at last, when its fluctuation ceased, was in many cases settled
but by accident; and in which, according to your Lordship's observation,
there is still great uncertainty among the best criticks; nor is it easy
to state a rule by which we may decide between custom and reason, or
between the equiponderant authorities of writers alike eminent for
judgment and accuracy.

The great orthographical contest has long subsisted between etymology
and pronunciation. It has been demanded, on one hand, that men should
write as they speak; but, as it has been