which nations have cast aside the tongue of their forefathers, and have
taken instead the tongue of some other people. Greek in the East, Latin
in the West, became the familiar speech of millions who had not a drop
of Greek or Italian blood in their veins. The same has been the case in
later times with Arabic, Persian, Spanish, German, English. Each of
those tongues has become the familiar speech of vast regions where the
mass of the people are not Arabian, Spanish, or English, otherwise than
by adoption. The Briton of Cornwall has, slowly but in the end
thoroughly, adopted the speech of England. In the American continent
full-blooded Indians preside over commonwealths which speak the tongue
of Cortes and Pizarro. In the lands to which all eyes are now turned,
the Greek, who has been busily assimilating strangers ever since he
first planted his colonies in Asia and Sicily, goes on busily
assimilating his Albanian neighbors. And between renegades, janissaries,
and mothers of all nations, the blood of many a Turk must be physically
any thing rather than Turkish. The inherent nature of the case, and the
witness of recorded history, join together to prove that language is no
certain test of race, and that the scientific philologers are doing good
service to accuracy of expression and accuracy of thought by
emphatically calling attention to the fact that language is no such
test.

But, on the other hand, it is quite possible that the truth to which our
attention is just now most fittingly called may, if put forth too
broadly and without certain qualifications, lead to error quite as
great as the error at which it is aimed. I do not suppose that any one
ever thought that language was, necessarily and in all cases, an
absolute and certain test. If anybody does think so, he has put himself
altogether out of court by shutting his eyes to the most manifest facts
of the case. But there can be no doubt that many people have given too