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the durable wood of the boc or beech-tree on -a word of which the significance has been which to inscribe their records. Library and widened to embrace the most overpowering of kindred words in our own and other modern all the passions of the human heart-refers prilanguages indicate the use of the liber or inner marily to the practice of these same candidates of bark of a tree as a writing material; while code, repairing to the forum and other places of public from caudex, the trunk of a tree, points to the resort, and their 'going round' (Latin ambientes) wooden tablets smeared with wax on which the among the people, endeavouring to ingratiate ancients originally wrote. The thin wooden themselves by friendly words and greetings. leaves or tablets were not like the volumina, From the ancient practice of secret voting by rolled within one another, but, like those of our means of 'balls,' we have the word ballot, which books, lay over one another. The stilus, or is erroneously applied to all secret voting, even iron-pointed implement used for writing on these when, as in the case of our parliamentary electablets, has its modern form in our style, which tions, voting-papers, and not balls, are employed. has come to be applied less to the manner of Nor must we omit another word of similar writing than to the mode of expression. Hence origin-that is, ostracism. This word signified its significance has been extended so as to apply among the Greeks the temporary banishment to arts other than that of composition. As which might be inflicted by six thousand votes advancing civilisation brought to the Western of the Athenian people upon any person susworld the art of making a writing material from pected of designs against the liberty of the state. strips of the inner rind of the Egyptian papyrus The name arose from the votes being recorded glued together transversely, the word paper was upon a bit of burnt clay or an earthenware tile introduced, to be applied as time went on to shaped like a shell (Gr. ostrakon, a shell). It textures made of various substances. The Greek is closely allied to the Greek ostreon, or Latin name of the same plant (byblos) gives us a word ostrea, an oyster. A somewhat similar practice used with reference to books in the composite existed among the Syracusans, where it went by forms of bibliographer, bibliomania, and so forth. the name of petalism, from the leaf (Gr. petalon) It is worthy of remark that in England, as well on which the name of the offender was written. as in France, Germany, and other European With the caprice of language, this word has countries, the simple form of this Greek word entirely passed away, while the Athenian custom for book, our Bible, has come to be restricted to gives us a word expressive of social exclusion. One Book, to the exclusion of all others. From scheda, a Latin word for a strip of papyrus rind, has also descended our schedule.

The transition from tablets to paper as a writing material has also a monument in volume, which, in spite of its significance as a roll of paper, is applied to the neatly folded books which have taken the place of that cumbrous form of literature. More than one instance of a similar retention of a word the actual signification of which is completely obsolete, might easily be adduced. The word indenture refers to an ancient precaution against forgery resorted to in the case of important contracts. The duplicate documents, of which each party retained one, were irregularly indented in precisely the same manner, so that upon comparison they might exactly tally. A vignette portrait has also lost the accompaniment which alone made the name appropriate, namely, the vine-leaves and tendrils which in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries usually formed its ornamental border. The directions in the English Prayer-book, again, are still known as rubrics (Latin ruber, red), although it is now the exception rather than the rule to see them printed as originally, in red letters. Once more, we apply without any sense of incongruity the name of pen (from Latin penna, a feather) to all those modern appliances which rival, if they have not yet superseded, the quill, to which alone the word is really appropriate.

Several words come down to us derived from customs connected with election to public offices. The word candidate (from Latin candidus, white) is one of these. It was customary among the Romans for any suitor for office to appear in a peculiar dress denoting his position. His toga was loose, so that he might show the people the scars of the wounds received in the cause of the commonwealth, and artificially whitened in token of fidelity and humility. Again, ambition

It has been said that there is hardly an institution of ancient times which has not some memorial in our language. The sacrifices of Greeks and Romans are commemorated in the word immolate, from the habit of throwing meal (Latin mola) upon the head of the victim. The word contemplate was probably used originally of the augurs who frequented the temples of the gods, temple meaning originally a place cut off,' and hence reserved.' Our word funeral is borrowed from a Latin word of similar signification, which in its turn is connected with fumus, smoke, thus giving us an allusion to the ancient habit of burning the bodies of the dead. Another word connected with the rites accorded to the dead-that is, dirge-is of Christian origin. It is a contraction of the first word of the antiphon in the office for the dead, taken from the eighth verse of the fifth Psalm: "Dirige, Dominus meus,' &c. (Lead or direct me, O Lord,' &c.). From a Roman law-term of Greek origin we have the word paraphernalia, signifying strictly those articles of personal property, besides her jointure, which were at the disposal of a woman after the death of her husband.

From a detail of Roman military life we trace the derivation of the word subsidy, originally applied only to assistance in arms, but generalised to signify help of any kind, especially pecuniary aid. Salary meant originally 'salt-money,' or money given to the soldiers for salt. With the inconsistency frequently found in language, the name survived after money had taken the place of such rations. Strictly speaking, the word stipend is liable to the same etymological objec tion, since the meaning of the word is a certain quantity of small coins estimated by weight.

The derivation of the word tragedy has been a fruitful field of controversy. It is undoubtedly the case that this class of drama was originally of anything but a mournful and pathetic character,

and was a remnant of the winter festival in honour of the god Dionysus. The word is coined from the Greek tragos, a goat; but various reasons have been assigned for this connection. Some assert that a goat was the prize awarded to the best extempore poem in honour of the god; others, that the first actors were dressed like satyrs, in goat-skins. A more likely explanation is that a goat was sacrificed at the singing of the song.

In

Latin sentina, the hold of a ship, and is thus equivalent to the Latin sentinator, the man who pumps bilge-water out of a ship. It is curious to mark how the name of a naval official of whom constant vigilance was required, has been wholly transferred to a post requiring equal watchfulness in the sister service. The other term to which we would call attention is hussar, a Hungarian word signifying twentieth.' explanation of this derivation, it is related that It is curious to remark how many names when Matthias Corvinus ascended the Hungarian applied to persons, in allusion either to their throne in 1458, the dread of imminent foreign characters or occupations, can be traced to some invasion caused him to command an immediate custom of other days. The very word person levy of troops. The cavalry he raised by a decree is an example of this class of derivatives. It ordering that one man should be enrolled out of was first applied to the masks which it was 'twenty' in every village, who should provide customary for actors to wear. These covered the among themselves for his subsistence and pay. whole head, with an opening for the mouth, that We may pass now to some words of the same the voice might sound through (Latin personare). nature of less honourable significance. Assassin The transition was easy from the disguise of the remains in our language as the dread memorial actor to the character which he represented, and of the domination of an odious sect in Palestine the word was ultimately extended beyond the which flourished in the thirteenth century, the scenic language to denote the human being who Hashishin (drinkers of hashish, an intoxicating has a part to play in the world. Sycophant is drink or decoction of the Cannabis indica, a compounded of two Greek words (sycon, phantes), kind of hemp). The 'Old Man of the Mounsignifying literally a 'fig-shewer,' that is, one tain' roused his followers' spirits by help of who brings figs to light by shaking the tree. It this drink, and sent them to stab his enemies, has been conjectured, also, that 'fig-shewer' per- especially the leading Crusaders. The emishaps referred to one who informed against persons saries of this body waged for two hundred exporting figs from Attica, or plundering sacred years a treacherous warfare alike against Jew, fig-trees. Sycophant meant originally a common Christian, and orthodox Mohammedan. Among informer, and hence a slanderer; but it was the distinguished men who fell victims never used in the modern sense of a flatterer. their murderous daggers were the Marquis of Another word of somewhat similar meaning, Montferrat in 1192, Louis of Bavaria in 1213, parasite, sprung from no such contemptible trade. and the Khan of Tartary some forty years later. The original bearers of the name were a class of The buccaneers, who at a later date were hardly priests who probably had their meals in common less dreaded, derived their name from the boucan (Latin parasiteo, to sit beside). But very early or gridiron on which the original settlers at with the Greeks the term came to be applied to Hayti were accustomed to broil or smoke for one who lives at the expense of the great, gaining future consumption the flesh of the animals they this position by adulation and servility. Also of had killed for their skins. The word is said to Greek origin is pedagogue (paidagōgos), signify be Caribbean, and to mean 'a place where meat ing, first, rather the slave who conducted the is smoke-dried.' child's steps to the place of instruction, than, as now, the master who guides his mind in the way of knowledge. In later times, a chancellor gained his name from the place which it was customary for him to occupy near the lattice-work screen (cancellus) which fenced off the judgment-seat from the body of the court. The same Latin derivation gives us the chancel of a church, from the fact of its being screened off, and what is more remarkable, the verb to cancel, that is, to strike out anything which is written by making cross-lines over it.

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Some of the contemptuous terms in our language have been attributed to remarkable origins. In scamp, we have a deserter from the field of battle (Latin ex, and campus), a parallel word to de-camp; and in scoundrel, 'a loathsome fellow,' 'one to scunner or be disgusted at.' The old word scunner, still used as a term of strong dislike in Lowland Scotch, meant also 'to shrink through fear,' so that scunner-el is equivalent to one who shrinks, a coward. Poltroon is 'one who lies in bed,' instead of bestirring himself.

Several of the names of different trades will Several words have passed from a literal to at once occur to our readers. Thus, a stationer is a figurative sense, and have thus become much one who had a 'station' or stand in the market- wider in signification. Thus, villain originally place for the sale of books, in order to attract meant merely a farm-servant; pagan, a dweller the passers-by as customers. An upholsterer, in a village; knave, a boy; idiot, a private originally upholdster, was, it would seem, an person; heathen, a dweller on a heath; gazette, auctioneer, who held up' his wares in order a small coin; and brat, a rag or clout, especially to show them off. The double -er in this word a child's bib or apron. Treacle meant an antiis superfluous, as in poult-er-er. A haberdasher dote against the bites of serpents; intoxicate, to was so called from his selling a stuff called hapertas in old French, which is supposed to be from a Scandinavian word meaning pedlars' wares, from the haversack in which they were carried.

Two military terms have curious origins. Sentinel has been traced through Italian to the

drug or poison; coward, a bob-tailed hare; and butcher, a slaughterer merely of he-goats. Brand and stigmatise still mean to mark with infamy, although the practical significance of the words is now chiefly a matter of history. Under the Romans, a slave who had proved dishonest, or had attempted to run away from his master,

was branded with the three letters FUR, a thief or rascal; while it may not be generally known that in England the custom of branding the cheek of a felon with an F' was only abolished by statute some sixty years ago.

These examples of a class of words denoting traces of customs of other days, might easily be largely multiplied; but enough has been said to remind our readers of one aspect of the historical value of our language-that is, the impress of the thoughts and practices of past generations stamped upon the words which are used in the familiar intercourse of life.

A HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF.

CHAPTER VII.

'SHE has come to stay,' Frances said.

"WHAT?' cried Mariuccia, making the small monosyllable sound as if it were the biggest word in her vocabulary.

'She has come to stay. She is my sister; papa's daughter as much as I am. She has come -home.' Frances was a little uncertain about the word, and it was only 'a casa' that she said'to the house,' which means the same.

Mariuccia threw up her arms in astonishment. "Then there has been another Signorina all the time!' she cried. 'Figure to yourself that I have been with the padrone a dozen years, and I never heard of her before.'

'Papa does not talk very much about his concerns,' said Frances in her faithfulness. 'And what we have got to do is to make her very comfortable. She is very pretty, don't you think? Such beautiful blond hair-and tall. I never shall be tall, I fear. They say she is like papa; but, as is natural, she is much more beautiful than papa.'

'Beauty is as you find it,' said Marinccia. 'Carina, no one will ever be so pretty as our own Signorina to Domenico and me. What is the child doing? She is pulling the things off her own bed. My angel, you have lost your good sense. You are fluttered and upset by this new arrival. The blue room will be very good for the new young lady. Perhaps she will not stay very long?'

The wish was father to the thought. But Frances took no notice of the suggestion. She said briskly, going on with what she was doing: 'She must have my room, Mariuccia. The blue room is quite nice; it will do very well for me; but I should like her to feel at home, not to think our house was bare and cold. The blue room would be rather naked, if we were to put her there to-night. It will not be naked for me; for, of course, I am used to it all, and know everything. But when Constance wakes to-morrow morning and looks round her, and wonders where she is-oh, how strange it all seems I wish her to open her eyes upon things that are pretty, and to say to herself: "What a delightful house papa has. What a I feel as if I had been here all my life."

nice room.

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'Constanza-is that her name? It is rather common name-not distinguished, like our Signorina's. But it is very good for her, I have no doubt. And so you will give her your own

room, that she may be fond of the house, and stay and supplant you? That is what will happen. The good one, the one of gold, gets pushed out of the way. I would not give her my room to

make her love the house.'

'I think you would, Mariuccia.'

'No; I do not think so,' said Mariuccia, squaring herself with one arm akimbo. 'No; I do not deny that I would probably take some new things into the blue room, and put up curtains. But I am older than you are, and I have more sense. I would not do it. If she gets your room, she will get your place; and she will please everybody, and be admired, and my angel will be put out of the way.'

I am such a horrid little wretch,' said Frances, 'that I thought of that too. It was mean, oh, so mean of me. She is prettier than I am; and taller; and—yes, of course, she must be older too, so you see it is her right.'

'Is she the eldest?' asked Mariuccia.

Frances made a puzzled pause; but she would not let the woman divine that she did not know. O yes; she must be the eldest.-Come quick, Mariuccia; take all these things to the blue room; and now for your clean linen and everything that is nice and sweet.'

Mariuccia did what she was told, but with many objections. She carried on a running murmur of protest all the time. "When there are changes in a family; when it is by the visitation of God, that is another matter. A son or a daughter who is in trouble, who has no other refuge; that is natural; there is nothing to say. But to remain away during a dozen years, and then to come back at a moment's notice-nay, without even a moment's noticein the evening, when all the beds are made up, and demand everything that is comfortable.-I have always thought that there was a great deal to be said for the poor young Signorino in the Bible, he who had always stayed at home when his brother was amusing himself. Carina, you know what I mean.'

'I have thought of that too,' said Frances. 'But my sister is not a prodigal; and papa has never done anything for her. It is all quite different. When we know each other better, it will be delightful always to have a companion, Mariuccia-think how pleasant it will be always to have a companion. I wonder if she will like my pictures ?-Now, don't you think the room looks very pretty? always thought it was a pretty room. Leave the persianis open, that she may see the sea; and in the morning, don't forget to come in and close them, before the sun gets hot.-I think that will do now.'

'Indeed, I hope it will do-after all the trouble you have taken. And I hope the young lady is worthy of it.-But, my angel, what shall I do when I come in to wake her? Does she expect that I can talk her language to her? No, no. And she will know nothing; she will not even be able to say "Good-morning."'

'I hope so. But if not, you must call me first, that is all,' said Frances cheerfully. Now, don't go to bed just yet; perhaps she will like something- -some tea; or perhaps a little supper; I never asked if she had dined.' Mariuccia regarded this possibility with equa nimity. She was not afraid of a girl's appetite.

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But she made a grimace at the mention of the tea. It is good when one has a cold; O yes,' she said; but to drink it at all times, as you do! If she wants anything, it will be a great deal better to give her a sirop, or a little red

wine.'

'with those people whom I travelled with. I suppose you will have to call and be civil. They were quite delighted to think that they would know somebody at Bordighera-som some of the inhabitants.-Yes, tea, if you please. And then I think I shall go to bed; for twenty-four hours in the train is very fatiguing, besides the excitement.-Don't you think Frances is very much like mamma? There is a little way she has of setting her chin.-Look there! That is mamma all over. I think they would get on together very well: indeed, I feel sure of it.' And again there was a significant look exchanged, which once more went like a sting to Frances' heart.

Frances detained Mariuccia as long as she could, and lingered herself still longer, after all was ready in the room. She did not know how to go back to the drawing-room, where she had left the two together, to say to each other, no doubt, many things that could be better said in her absence. There was no jealousy, only delicacy, in this; and she had given up her pretty room to her sister, and carried her indispensable belongings to the bare one, with the 'Your sister has been telling me,' said Mr purest pleasure in making Constance comfort- Waring, with a little hesitation, of a great many able. Constance! whom an hour ago she had people I used to know. You must be very never heard of, and who now was one of them, much surprised, my dear; but I will take an nearer to her than anybody, except her father. opportunity He was confused before her, But all this being done, she had the strangest as if he had been before a judge. He gave her difficulty in going back, in thrusting herself, a look which was half shame and half gratitude, as imagination said, between them, and inter- sentiments both entirely out of place between rupting their talk. To think that it should be him and Frances. She could not bear that he such a tremendous matter to return to that should look at her so. familiar room, in which the greater part of her life had been passed! It felt like another world into which she was about to enter, full of unknown elements and conditions which she did not understand. She had not known what it was to be shy in the very limited society she had ever known; but she was shy now, feeling as if she had not courage to put her hand upon the handle of the door. The familiar creak and jar of it as it opened seemed to her like noisy instruments announcing her approach, which stopped the conversation, as she had divined, and made her father and her sister look up with a little start. Frances could have wished to sink through the floor, to get rid of her own being altogether, as she saw them both give this slight start. Constance was leaning upon the table, the light of the lamp shining full upon her face, with the air of being in the midst of an animated narrative, which she stopped when Frances entered; and Mr Waring had been listening with a smile. He turned half round and held out his hand to the timid girl behind him. 'Come, Frances,' he said; 'you have been a long time making your preparations. Have you been bringing out the fairest robe for your sister?' It was odd how the parablewhich had no signification in their circumstances -haunted them all.

"Your room is quite ready whenever you please. And would you like tea or anything? I ought to have asked if you had dined,' Frances said.

Is she the housekeeper?-How odd !-Do you look after everything?-Dear me! I am afraid, in that case, I shall make a very poor substitute for Frances, papa.'

'It is not necessary to think of that,' he said hastily, giving her a quick glance.

Frances saw it, with another involuntary, quickly suppressed pang. Of course, there would be things that Constance must be warned not to say. And yet it felt as if papa had deserted her and gone over to the other side. She had not the remotest conception what the warning referred to, or what Constance meant.

I dined at the hotel,' Constance went on,

'Yes, papa,' she said as easily as she could; I know you must have a great deal to talk of. If Constance will give me her keys, I will unpack her things for her.' Both the girls instinctively, oddly, addressed each other through their father, the only link between them, hesitating a little at the familiarity which nature made necessary between them, but which had no other warrant. 'Oh! isn't there a maid who can do it?' Constance cried, opening her eyes. The evening seemed long to Frances, though it was not long. Constance trifled over the teawhich Mariuccia made with much reluctancefor half an hour. But she talked all the time; and as her talk was of people Frances had never heard of, and was mingled with little allusions to what had passed before: 'I told you about him;' 'You remember, we were talking of them;' with a constant recurrence of names which to Frances meant nothing at all, it seemed long to her.

She sat down at the table, and took her knitting, and listened, and tried to look as if she took an interest. She did indeed take a great interest; no one could have been more eager to enter without arrière-pensée into the new life thus unfolded before her; and sometimes she was amused and could laugh at the stories Constance was telling; but her chief feeling was that sense of being entirely out of it'-having nothing to do with it, which makes people who do not understand society feel like so many ghosts standing on the margin, knowing nothing. The feeling was strange, and very forlorn. It is an unpleasant experience even for those who are strangers, to whom it is a passing incident; but as the speaker was her sister and the listener her father, Frances could not help feeling forlorn. Generally in the evening conversation flagged between them. He would have his book, and Frances sometimes had a book too, or a drawing upon which she could work, or at least her knitting. She had felt that the silence which reigned in the room was not what ought to be. It was not like the talk which was supposed to go on in all the novels she had ever read

where the people were nice. And sometimes this small trumpet had sounded. Mr Waring she attempted to entertain her father with little accordingly was silenced, and made no further incidents in the life of their poor neighbours, remark. He went with his daughters to the or things which Mariuccia had told her; but he door, and kissed the cheek which Constance listened benevolently, with his finger between the held lightly to him. 'I shall see you again, leaves of his book, or even without closing his papa,' Frances said in that same little determined book, looking up at her over the leaves-only voice. out of kindness to her, not because he was interested; and then silence would fall on them, a silence which was very sweet to Frances, in the midst of which her own little stream of thoughts flowed very continuously, but which now and then she was struck to the heart to think must be very dull for papa.

But to-night it was not dull for him. She listened, and said to herself this was the way to make conversation; and laughed whenever she could, and followed every little gesture of her sister's with admiring eyes. But at the end, Frances, though she would not acknowledge it to herself, felt that she had not been amused. She thought the people in the village were just as interesting. But then she was not so clever as Constance, and could not do them justice in the same way.

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And now I am going to bed,' Constance said. She rose up in an instant with a rapid movement, as if the thought had only just struck her, and she obeyed the impulse at once. There was a freedom about all her movements which troubled and captivated Frances. She had been leaning half over the table, her sleeves, which were a little wide, falling back from her arms, now leaning her chin in the hollow of one hand, now supporting it with both, putting her elbows wherever she pleased. Frances herself had been trained by Mariuccia to very great decorum in respect to attitudes. If she did furtively now and then lean an elbow upon the table, she was aware that it was wrong all the time; and as for legs, she knew it was only men who were permitted to cross them, or to do anything save sit with two feet equal to each other upon the floor. But Constance cared for none of these rules. She rose up abruptly (Mariuccia would have said, as if something had stung her) almost before she had finished what she was saying. Show me my room, please,' she said, and yawned. She yawned quite freely, naturally, without any attempt to conceal or to apologise for it as if it had been an accident. Frances could not help being shocked, yet neither could she help laughing with a sort of pleasure in this breach of all rules. But Constance only stared, and did not in the least understand why she should laugh. 'Where have you put your sister?' Mr Waring asked.

'I have put her in the room next to yours, papa; between your room and mine, you know: for I am in the blue room now. There she will not feel strange; she will have people on each side.'

That is to say you have given her'

It was Frances' turn now to give a warning glance. The room I thought she would like best,' she said with a soft but decisive tone. She too had a little imperious way of her own. It so soft, that a stranger would not have found it out; but in the Palazzo they were all acquainted with it, and no one-not even Mariuccia-found it possible to say a word after

was

Mr Waring did not make any reply, but shrank a little aside, to let her pass. He looked like a man who was afraid. She had spared him ; she had not betrayed the ignorance in which he had brought her up; but now the moment of reckoning was near, and he was afraid of Frances. He went back into the salone, and walked up and down with a restlessness which was natural enough, considering how all the embers of his life had been raked up by this unexpected event. He had lived in absolute quiet for fourteen long years a strange life: a life which might have been supposed to be impossible for a man still in the heyday of his strength; but yet, as it appeared, a life which suited him, which he preferred to others more natural. To settle down in an Italian village with a little girl of four for his sole companion-when he came to think of it, nothing could be more unnatural, more extraordinary; and yet he had liked it well enough, as well as he could have liked anything at that crisis of his fate. He was the kind of man who, in other circumstances, in another age, would have made himself a monk, and spent his existence very placidly in illuminating manuscripts. He had done something as near this as is possible to an Englishman, not a Roman Catholic, of the nineteenth century. Unfortunately, Waring had no ecclesiastical tendencies, or even in the nineteenth century he might have found out for himself some pseudo-monkery in which he could have been happy. As it was, he had retired with his little girl, and on the whole had been comfortable enough. But now the little girl had grown up, and required to have various things accounted for; and the other individuals who had claims upon him, whom he thought he had shaken off altogether, had turned up again, and had to be dealt with. The monk had an easy time of it in comparison. He who has but himself to think of may manage himself, if he has good luck; but the responsibility of others on your shoulders is a terrible drawback to tranquillity. A little girl! that seemed the simplest of all things. It had never occurred to him that she would form a link by which all his former burdens might be drawn back; or that she, more wonderful still, should ever arise, and demand to know why. But both of these impossible things had happened.

Waring walked about the salone. He opened the glass door and stepped out into the foggia into the tranquil shining of the moon, which lit up all the blues of the sea, and kindled little silver lamps all over the quivering palms. How quiet it was! and yet that tranquil nature lying unmoved, taking whatever came of good or evil, did harm in a far more colossal way than any man could do. The sea, then looking so mild, would suddenly rise up and bring havoc and destruction worse than an army; yet next day smile again, and throw its spray into the faces of the children, and lie like a beautiful thing

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