In exhibiting the descent of our language, our etymologists seem to have
been too lavish of their learning, having traced almost every word
through various tongues, only to show what was shown sufficiently by the
first derivation. This practice is of great use in synoptical lexicons,
where mutilated and doubtful languages are explained by their affinity
to others more certain and extensive, but is generally superfluous in
English etymologies. When the word is easily deduced from a Saxon
original, I shall not often inquire further, since we know not the
parent of the Saxon dialect; but when it is borrowed from the French, I
shall show whence the French is apparently derived. Where a Saxon root
cannot be found, the defect may be supplied from kindred languages,
which will be generally furnished with much liberality by the writers of
our glossaries; writers who deserve often the highest praise, both of
judgment and industry, and may expect at least to be mentioned with
honour by me, whom they have freed from the greatest part of a very
laborious work, and on whom they have imposed, at worst, only the easy
task of rejecting superfluities.

By tracing in this manner every word to its original, and not admitting,
but with great caution, any of which no original can be found, we shall
secure our language from being overrun with _cant_, from being crowded
with low terms, the spawn of folly or affectation, which arise from no
just principles of speech, and of which, therefore, no legitimate
derivation can be shown.

When the etymology is thus adjusted, the analogy of our language is next
to be considered; when we have discovered whence our words are derived,
we are to examine by what rules they are governed, and how they are
inflected through their various terminations. The terminations of the
English are few, but those few have hitherto remained unregarded by the
writers of our dictionaries. Our substantives are declined only by the
plural termination, our adjectives admit no variation but in the degrees
of comparison, and our verbs are conjugated by auxiliary words, and are
only changed in the preter tense.

To our language may be, with great justness, applied the observation of
Quintilian, that speech was not formed by an analogy sent from heaven.
It did not descend to us in a state of uniformity and perfection, but
was produced by necessity, and enlarged by accident, and is, therefore,
composed of dissimilar parts, thr