3.  Absurd etymology was once the rule, because guessing without any knowledge of the historical forms of words was general; and still, in spite of the modern school of philology, which has shown us the right way, much wild guessing continues to be prevalent.  It is not, however, often that we can point to such a brilliant instance of blundering etymology as that to be found in Barlow’s English Dictionary (1772).  The word porcelain is there said to be ``derived from pour cent annes, French for a hundred years, it having been imagined that the materials were matured underground for that term of years.’’

Richardson, the novelist, suggests an etymology almost equal to this.  He writes, ``What does correspondence mean?  It is a word of Latin origin:  a compound word; and the two elements here brought together are respondeo, I answer, and cor, the heart:  i.e., I answer feelingly, I reply not so much to the head as to the heart.’’

Dr. Ash’s English Dictionary, published in 1775, is an exceedingly useful work, as p 10containing many words and forms of words nowhere else registered, but it contains some curious mistakes.  The chief and best-known one is the explanation of the word curmudgeon—­``from the French coeur, unknown, and mechant, a correspondent.’’ The only explanation of this absurdly confused etymology is that an ignorant man was employed to copy from Johnson’s Dictionary, where the authority was given as ``an unknown correspondent,’’ and he, supposing these words to be a translation of the French, set them down as such.  The two words esoteric and exoteric were not so frequently used in the last century as they are now; so perhaps there may be some excuse for the following entry:  ``Esoteric (adj. an incorrect spelling) exoteric.’’ Dr. Ash could not have been well read in Arthurian literature, or he would not have turned the noble knight Sir Gawaine into a woman, ``the sister of King Arthur.’’ There is a story of a blunder in Littleton’s Latin Dictionary, which further research has proved to be no mistake at all.  It is said that when the Doctor was compiling his work, and p 11announced the word concurro to his amanuensis, the scribe, imagining from the sound that the six first letters would give the translation of the verb, said ``Concur, sir, I suppose?’’ to which the Doctor peevishly replied, ``Concur—­condog!’’ and in the edition of 1678 ``condog’’ is printed as one interpretation of concurro.  Now, an answer to this story is that, however odd a word ``condog’’ may appear, it will be found in Henry Cockeram’s English Dictionarie, first published in 1623.  The entry is as follows:  ``to agree, concurre, cohere, condog, condiscend.’’