In the Mitanni letter the following two pairs of passages are found which evidently vary identical ideas:

1. (a) a-ti-i-ni-i-in Ma-ni-e-na-an še-e-ni-iw-wa-ŭ-[e] (14) pa-aš-ši-i-it-ḫi ŭ-ŭ-na (II 13f.) and

2. (b) [ ...... ] (114) [Gi-]li-i-an [pa-aš-ši-i-it-ḫi-iw-wa [Ma-ni-]en-na-a-an pa-aš-ši-i-it-ḫi-ip (115) [na-]ak-ku-ša-a-ŭ ŭ-ŭ-na-a-al-la-a-an še-e-ni-iw-wη-ta (I 114f.).

3. (c) ip-šu-ši-i-in ti-i-ḫa-níš-ḫi-i-in ú-ú-na-a-an (IV 49) and

4. (d) ŭ-na-a-la-an (20) še-e-ni-iw-wη-ú-a ti-i-ḫa-niníš-ḫa-la-an ip-šu-ši-i-la-an (III 19f.).

When the Greeks borrowed the alphabet they took over the Semitic qoph as well as kaph, and they employed the former before back vowels (e.g. Corinthian híoμ∈s, καóν), but in the course of time was crowded out by κ. Scholars have inferred that the extra letter served no useful purpose, because there was no phonemic difference between κ before back vowels and in other positions. Similarly the Etruscans borrowed both and κ from the Greeks, and on some early Etruscan inscriptions the use of q is limited in the same way as Gk. , while k is used only before the vowel a.

The theory that there was a spontaneous development of an obscure vowel in final position on certain occasions in Old Italian has gained general currency and has been carried on in the works of the main authorities. D'Ovidio and Meyer-Lübke speak of a ‘Murmelvokal’ and consider it to have been an obscure vowel of []-quality; Grandgent refers to it as a ‘glide-vowel’ without further definition of its phonetic timbre.

In his very valuable book, Emplois des aspects du verbe russe (Paris, 1914), Prof. André Mazon analyses the various usages of the perfective and imperfective aspects and in connection with the present forms of both, he has a section on the Historical Present of the Imperfective (123–5) and on the Historical Present-Future or Present Perfective (149–59). Both of these sections deal with a very striking phenomenon of some portions of the Russian language. On the whole, he has handled the matter very carefully, but perhaps it may be possible to look at some of these cases a little more closely.

Students of American Indian languages have given little attention to syntax. This neglect may be partly explained, though not justified, by the fear of imposing arbitrarily on exotic languages a set of concepts derived from intensive study of the more familiar Indo-European tongues. The possibility of error due to preconceptions is certainly real, especially for those who venture first into new territory. Perhaps the present paper will serve to stimulate more activity in this extremely interesting and important phase of linguistic science.

No convincing or satisfactory etymology has as yet been suggested for the English word big. Skeat properly compares it with the Norwegian bugge ‘strong man’ and says that it is probably a borrowing from Scandinavian. He further hazards a connection with NE bow, Goth, biugan, from PG *beugan, and there lets the matter rest. Webster's New International Dictionary connects it with bug and Puck, originally ‘hobgoblin, spectre’, and suggests a further relation with Lat. boccae ‘puffed cheeks’. But phonetic difficulties, to say the least, are at once apparent. The word bug is undoubtedly borrowed from the grotesque fancies of Celtic folklore; cf. Welsh bwg ‘hobgoblin’: Lith. búgti, baugùs ‘terrify(ing)’, Skt. bhujati ‘turn aside’, Gk. φ∈ὐγω, Lat. fugio ‘flee’, all from IE *bheug-. If big is from the Norse it must have a Germanic inheritance and could not be related to the IE root *bheug-at all. Puck, < ME pouke < OE pūca : ON pūki, is equally bad, if not worse. Nor is the semantic connection all that could be desired. Middle English (big has no Anglo-Saxon antecedent) big, bigge, bygly mean ‘large, rich, mightily’, and the Scandinavian bugge means, as we have seen above, ‘a strong or important man’. It is a far cry from ‘imp, hobgoblin’ to the conception of largeness, might, and wealth. Der Tag of proletarian ideologies had not yet arrived.