that a is a short letter, and b a long one; the former a vowel, the latter a consonant: and so of others. Yet as he may doubt whether t is a long letter or a short one, so he may be puzzled to say whether w and y, as heard in we and ye, are vowels or consonants: but neither of these difficulties should impair his confidence in any of his other decisions. If he attain by observation and practice a clear and perfect pronunciation of the letters, he will be able to class them for himself with as much accuracy as he will find in books.
OBS. 3.--Grammarians have generally agreed that every letter is either a vowel or a consonant; and also that there are among the latter some semivowels, some mutes, some aspirates, some liquids, some sharps, some flats, some labials, some dentals, some nasals, some palatals, and perhaps yet other species; but in enumerating the letters which belong to these several classes, they disagree so much as to make it no easy matter to ascertain what particular classification is best supported by their authority. I have adopted what I conceive to be the best authorized, and at the same time the most intelligible. He that dislikes the scheme, may do better, if he can. But let him with modesty determine what sort of discoveries may render our ancient authorities questionable. Aristotle, three hundred and thirty years before Christ, divided the Greek letters into vowels, semivowels, and mutes, and declared that no syllable could be formed without a vowel. In the opinion of some neoterics, it has been reserved to our age, to detect the fallacy of this. But I would fain believe that the Stagirite knew as well what he was saying, as did Dr. James Rush, when, in 1827, he declared the doctrine of vowels and consonants to be "a misrepresentation." The latter philosopher resolves the letters into "tonics, subtonics, and atonics;" and avers that "consonants alone may form syllables." Indeed, I cannot but think the ancient doctrine better. For, to say that "consonants alone may form syllables," is as much as to say that consonants are not consonants, but vowels! To be consistent, the attempters of this reformation should never speak of vowels or consonants, semivowels or mutes; because they judge the terms inappropriate, and the classification absurd. They should therefore adhere strictly to their "tonics, subtonics, and atonics;" which classes, though apparently the same as vowels, semivowels, and mutes, are better adapted to their new and peculiar division of these elements. Thus, by reforming both language and philosophy at once, they may make what they will of either!
OBS. 4.--Some teach that w and y are always vowels: conceiving the former to be equivalent to oo, and the latter to i or e. Dr. Lowth says, "Y is always a vowel," and "W is either a vowel or a diphthong." Dr. Webster supposes w to be always "a vowel, a simple sound;" but admits that, "At the beginning of words, y is called an articulation or consonant, and with some propriety perhaps, as it brings the root of the tongue in close contact with the lower part of the palate, and nearly in the position to which the close g brings it."--American Dict., Octavo. But I follow Wallis, Brightland, Johnson, Walker, Murray, Worcester, and others, in considering both of them sometimes vowels and sometimes consonants. They are consonants at the beginning of words in English, because their sounds take the article a, and not an, before them; as, a wall, a yard, and not, an wall, an yard. But oo or the sound of e, requires an, and not a; as, an eel, an oozy bog.[94] At the end of a syllable we know they are vowels; but at the beginning, they are so squeezed in their pronunciation, as to follow a vowel without any hiatus, or difficulty of utterance; as, "O worthy youth! so young, so wise!"
OBS. 5.--Murray's rule, "W and y are consonants when they begin a word or syllable, but in every other situation they are vowels," which is found in Comly's book, Kirkham's, Merchant's, Ingersoll's, Fisk's. Hart's, Hiley's, Alger's, Bullions's, Pond's, S. Putnam's, Weld's, and in sundry other grammars, is favourable to my doctrine, but too badly conceived to be quoted here as authority. It undesignedly makes w a consonant in wine, and a vowel in twine; and y a consonant when it forms a syllable, as in dewy: for a letter that forms a syllable, "begins" it. But Kirkham has lately learned his letters anew; and, supposing he had Dr. Rush on his side, has philosophically taken their names for their sounds. He now calls y a "diphthong." But he is wrong here by his own showing: he should rather have called it a triphthong. He says, "By pronouncing in a very deliberate and perfectly natural manner, the letter y, (which is a diphthong,) the unpractised student will perceive, that the sound produced, is compound; being formed, at its opening, of the obscure sound of oo as heard in oo-ze, which sound rapidly slides into that of i, and then advances to that of ee as heard in e-ve, and on which it gradually passes off into silence."--Kirkham's Elocution, p. 75. Thus the "unpractised student" is taught that b-y spells bwy; or, if pronounced "very deliberately, boo-i-ee!" Nay, this grammatist makes b, not a labial mute, as Walker, Webster, Cobb, and others, have called it, but a nasal subtonic, or semivowel. He delights in protracting its "guttural murmur;" perhaps, in assuming its name for its sound; and, having proved, that "consonants are capable of forming syllables," finds no difficulty in mouthing this little monosyllable by into b-oo-i-ee! In this way, it is the easiest thing in the world,
