obliges: hence they are called "Ya al-Majhul" and "Waw al-Majhul"
the unknown y (i) and u. But in all tongues vowel-sounds, the
flesh which clothes the bones (consonants) of language, are
affected by the consonants which precede and more especially
which follow them, hardening and softening the articulation; and
deeper sounds accompany certain letters as the sad ( ) compared
with the sin ( ). None save a defective ear would hold, as Lane
does, "Maulid" ( = birth-festival) "more properly pronounced
'Molid.'" Yet I prefer Khokh (peach) and Jokh (broad cloth) to
Khukh and Jukh; Ohod (mount) to Uhud; Obayd (a little slave) to
Ubayd; and Hosayn (a fortlet, not the P. N. Al-Husayn) to Husayn.
As for the short e in such words as "Memluk" for "Mamluk" (a
white slave), "Eshe" for "Asha" (supper), and "Yemen" for "Al-
Yaman," I consider it a flat Egyptianism, insufferable to an ear
which admires the Badawi pronunciation. Yet I prefer "Shelebi" (a
dandy) from the Turkish Chelebi, to "Shalabi;" "Zebdani" (the
Syrian village) to "Zabdani," and "Fes and Miknes" (by the figure
Imalah) to "Fas and Miknas,", our "Fez and Mequinez."

With respect to proper names and untranslated Arabic words I have
rejected all system in favour of common sense. When a term is
incorporated in our tongue, I refuse to follow the purist and
mortify the reader by startling innovation. For instance, Aleppo,
Cairo and Bassorah are preferred to Halab, Kahirah and Al-Basrah;
when a word is half naturalised, like Alcoran or Koran, Bashaw or
Pasha, which the French write Pacha; and Mahomet or Mohammed (for
Muhammad), the modern form is adopted because the more familiar.
But I see no advantage in retaining,, simply because they are the
mistakes of a past generation, such words as "Roc" (for Rikh),),
Khalif (a pretentious blunder for Kalifah and better written