Without pretending to as deep a theoretical knowledge as that which has made the name of James Hunter West a household word among Oriental scholars, I happen to have given considerable attention to this one point, and indeed I am in a position to say that I know his views to be unsound.
I assure you, sir, that up to the year 700, or even later, Sanscrit was the ordinary language of the great bulk of the inhabitants of India." "And I assure you, sir," said my father warmly, "that it was dead and forgotten at that date, save by the learned, who used it as a vehicle for scientific and religious works--just as Latin was used in the Middle Ages long after it had ceased to be spoken by any European nation." "If you consult the puranas you will find," said Ram Singh, "that this theory, though commonly received, is entirely untenable." "And if you will consult the Ramayana, and more particularly the canonical books on Buddhist discipline," cried my father, "you will find that the theory is unassailable." "But look at the Kullavagga," said our visitor earnestly.
"And look at King Asoka," shouted my father triumphantly.

"When, in the year 300 before the Christian era--before, mind you--he ordered the laws of Buddha to be engraved upon the rocks, what language did he employ, eh?
Was it Sanscrit ?--no! And why was it not Sanscrit?
Because the lower orders of his subjects would not have been able to understand a word of it.

Ha, ha! That was the reason.

How are you going to get round King Asoka's edicts, eh ?" "He carved them in the various dialects," Ram Singh answered.

"But energy is too precious a thing to be wasted in mere wind in this style.
The sun has passed its meridian, and I must return to my companions." "I am sorry that you have not brought them to see us," said my father courteously.