call the 'alias' rule. We may still see this rule in other instances.
All men say 'hippopót[)a]mus', and even those who know that this _a_
is short in Greek can say nothing but 'Mesopot[=a]mia', unless indeed
the word lose its blessed and comforting powers in a disyllabic
abbreviation. When a country was named after Cecil Rhodes, where the
_e_ in the surname is mute, we all called it 'Rhod[=e]sia'. Had it
been named after a Newman, where the _a_ is short or rather obscure,
we should all have called it 'Newm[=a]nia ', while, named after a
Davis, it would certainly have been 'Dav[)i]sia'. The process of
thought would in each case have been unconscious. A new example is
'aviation', whose first vowel has been instinctively lengthened.

Again, when the word 'telegram' was coined, some scholars objected to
its formation and insisted upon 'telegrapheme', but the most obdurate
Grecian did not propose to keep the long Greek vowel in the first
syllable. When only the other day 'cinematograph' made its not wholly
desirable appearance, it made no claim to a long vowel in either of
its two first syllables. Not till it was reasonably shortened into
'c[)i]n[)e]ma' did a Judge from the Bench make a lawless decree for a
long second vowel, and even he left the _i_ short though it is long in
Greek.

Of course with the manner of speech the quantities had to be learnt
separately. The task was not as difficult as some may think. To boys
with a taste for making verses the thumbing of a Gradus (I hope that
no one calls it a Gr[)a]dus) was always a delightful occupation, and
a quantity once learnt was seldom forgotten. It must be admitted that,
as boys were forced to do verses, whether they could or not, there
were always some who could read and yet forget.