Abominable. This word is from the Latin verb ‘abominor,’ which again is from ab and omen. The word involves the idea of what is in a religious sense profane and detestable; in fine, of evil omen. Milton always uses it in reference to devilish, profane or idolatrous objects. It was once thought that the true etymology of ‘abominable’ was from ab (from), and homo (a man); and that its proper meaning was repugnant to human nature. This, though not the right derivation, may account for the word being still often used in that sense.

Absurd, which has the sense of ‘foolish,’ ‘inconsistent,’ &c., is from the Latin ‘absurdus,’ compounded of ‘ab’ (from), and ‘surdus’ (deaf). An ‘absurd’ answer is one you would probably get ‘from a deaf’ man; i.e. one wholly irrelevant to the question.

Academy. This word owes its origin to the name of a grove near Athens, ??ad??a, where Plato and other philosophers used to give lectures to their followers. Hence this name has been frequently given to institutions for instruction.

Ajar. The Anglo-Saxon ‘cerre’ is a turn; from ‘cerran,’ to turn; hence a door is said to be ‘ajar,’ when it is on the turn. From the same root we have to churn milk; i.e. to turn it about. Also a char-woman—one who does a ‘turn’ of work. Compare the German ‘kehren.’

Archipelago. This name was given by the modern Greeks to the Ægean Sea. It is a corruption of ????? p??a??? (Hagios pelagos), ‘Holy Sea.’

Ban, to proclaim or denounce. The original meaning is connected with ‘banner,’ a flag, or standard; in feudal times, the rallying point to which retainers flocked to do battle for their seigneur. The word is supposed to be connected with ‘bend,’ in the sense of to make a sign. ‘Bandit,’ a proclaimed outlaw, is from the same source, as also ‘Banns,’ i.e. a proclamation of marriage.

Bankrupt. The following circumstances gave rise to this word. It was the custom in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries for the Lombard merchants to expose their wares for sale in the market-place, on benches. Whenever any one of their number failed in his business, or could not pay his debts, all the other merchants set upon him, drove him from the market, and broke his bench to pieces. ‘Banco rotto’ is the Italian for bench-broken. Hence came the word, which passed into French in the form ‘banqueroute;’ and into English as ‘bankrupt.’

Barley-sugar. Has nothing whatever to do with the grain ‘barley.’ The first part of the word is here an inversion—and at the same time a corruption of the French brÛlÉ (burnt). The whole word was originally ‘sucre brÛlÉ’ (burnt sugar), and it is still sometimes called ‘sugar-barley.’

Birmingham. The name of an Anglo-Saxon family was often formed by adding ing to that of its founder; ing meaning ‘son of,’ or ‘descended from.’ The estate or residence was called the ‘ham,’ or home; and the name was formed by adding this syllable ham, to the family name. Thus, the family of a Saxon leader named ‘Beorm’ possessed a residence in Mercia, to which they gave the name of ‘Beorm-ing-ham,’ or the home of the sons of Beorm; now corrupted into ‘Birmingham.’ Many places in England still retain the names originally given them by Anglo-Saxon families; as ‘Nottingham,’ ‘Walsingham,’ &c.

Blackguard was a name first given to the lowest menials engaged in the dirty work of a kitchen or household, as scullion, link-boy, coal-carrier, &c. It was afterwards applied to any loose, idle vagabonds.

Book. In the same way as the Latin liber (the bark of a tree), was afterwards used in the sense of a book, because it was a material used for writing on; so our word book comes from the Saxon ‘boc’ (a beech tree). In a rude, uncivilised age, it was the custom to form alphabetical letters with the pliable twigs of the beech. To this day, the German for ‘to spell’ is ‘buchstabiren’ (from ‘Buch’ (beech), and ‘stab’ (a staff or twig)); i.e. to put the beech-staves properly together.

Booty. The Anglo-Saxon ‘bet’ meant ‘better’; and ‘betan’ was to amend or make better. Thus a ‘booty’ would be that which betters us; ‘bootless’ is ‘without effect or improvement,’ and ‘so much to boot,’ is so much to our advantage.

Burglar. This is from the Low Latin ‘burgilatro,’ a house-robber; one who breaks into a house with a felonious intent. The old French ‘lerre’ is a contraction of the Latin ‘latro,’ a robber.

Cabal. The usually received etymology of this word is that it is formed of the initials of the names of the five ministers of Charles II. who succeeded to the government of this country after the banishment of Lord Clarendon—Clifford, Ashley, Buckingham, Arlington, and Lauderdale. But Mr. Wedgewood suggests that it comes from ‘Cabala,’ or the mysterious tradition delivered to Moses with the Law, on Mount Sinai, and handed down by the Jews from father to son. ‘Hence,’ he says, ‘Cabal came to signify a secret machination or plotting.’ Lord Macaulay favours the first explanation.

Caitiff. This English word presents us with a curious lesson. It is, in fact, only another form of ‘captive,’ though it has come to signify a wretch capable of perpetrating the darkest crimes. The Latin ‘captivus,’ a prisoner, is the source of the modern Italian ‘cattivo,’ which has the general sense of ‘bad;’ and the French ‘chÉtif,’ which signifies ‘mean,’ ‘pitiful,’ or ‘insignificant,’ is another form of the same word. All these varieties point to the same conclusion, viz. the moral degradation naturally produced in the human mind by captivity.

Candidate. In ancient Rome it was the custom for those who sued for offices of state, to be dressed in white robes. Hence came the word ‘candidate,’ which is derived from the Latin ‘candidus’ (white); and which signifies literally—‘dressed in white.’

Carat is from the Arabic ‘kaura,’ a bean, which varies very little in weight. It was introduced into India as a standard weight for diamonds. The Arabic words are goort, girat, and gurat; corrupted into ‘carat.’

Cardinal. Certain dignitaries of the Church of Rome are called ‘cardinals.’ This word is derived from the Latin ‘cardo,’ a hinge. One of the favourite comparisons by which the Church of Rome sought to set herself up above all the other churches of Christendom, was that it was the hinge upon which all the rest of the church, as the door, turned, or depended. Hence the higher clergy were called cardinals, as being closely connected with the Pope, who was the ‘cardo,’ or hinge of them all. Certain virtues are also called ‘cardinal,’ as being those upon which all other virtues turn.

Caricature. This is literally an overloaded or over-charged representation. It is derived from the Italian ‘caricare,’ to load. In a caricature, a resemblance is retained; but the details are exaggerated.

Carnival is from the Latin ‘caro’ (flesh), and ‘vale’ (farewell). It signifies literally ‘farewell to flesh;’ and is applied to the holiday held in Roman Catholic countries the week before Lent. It may be considered as a feast before a fast.

Caudle. The derivation of this word is yet undecided. Latham gives it as a corruption of ‘cordial;’ while Wedgewood derives it from the French ‘chaudeau’ (from chaud, hot), a warm comforting drink for the sick.

Chancel. This means the part of a church enclosed or railed off from the body of the building by lattice-work (Latin, cancelli). Chancellors were originally law officers who stood at the railings (ad cancellos) in a court of justice, and received the petitions of the suitors. The verb ‘to cancel’ is from the same source. To ‘cancel’ a name is to efface it by drawing a pen across it in diagonal lines, so as to make lattice-work over it.

Cheat. From the Latin verb ‘cadere,’ to fall, came the old French ‘eschoir,’ and hence ‘escheats.’ This is a law-term signifying lands which fall to the lord by forfeiture, or by the death of a tenant. The king’s ‘escheators’ were officers appointed to look after the king’s ‘escheats;’ and as they had many opportunities of practising fraud, and were much complained of on that score, the term escheator (or cheater) came to signify any fraudulent person. This is the origin of the present meaning of the verb ‘to cheat.’

Church. This word, though consisting of only one syllable, has in it the elements of two roots. It is of Greek origin, and signifies literally ‘the Lord’s House.’ ?????? (Kyrios) is the Greek for ‘Lord;’ and ????? (oikos) means, in that language, ‘house,’ or ‘dwelling.’ Putting these two roots together we get ‘Kyri-oik.’ This, by a natural law would contract into ‘kyrik.’ In Scotch we find ‘kirk,’ and in German ‘Kirche.’ In English the guttural is softened, and the word appears as ‘church.’

Comedy. This is derived, according to Aristotle, from ??? (kome), a village; and ?d? (ode), a song. It was at first a song of joy of the villagers at the gathering in of the harvest—a sort of harvest-home. This was a lighter and gayer song, and did not partake of the more solemn, and at first, religious tone of the tragedy. Others derive comedy from ????, and ?d?, ‘a song of revellers.’

Companion. Two derivations are given of this word. 1. From the French ‘campagne,’ which is from the Latin ‘cum,’ and ‘pagus,’ a village, or district. By this explanation it would mean one of those who belonged to the same district. 2. From the Low Latin ‘companium,’ an association; formed from ‘cum’ (with), and ‘panis’ (bread). This conveys the meaning of bread-sharer. Mr. Wedgewood favours the second explanation.

Comrade. There is no doubt that this word, which is in French ‘camarade,’ is derived from the Italian ‘camera,’ afterwards in French ‘chambre,’ and that it was first applied to those who lived together in the same room (chambre).

Cordwainer. During the Moorish government of southern Spain, the city of Cordova became celebrated for the manufacture of leather. Hence, the French ‘cordovan’ meant originally the leather of Cordova. Hence, also, the English ‘cordwainer,’ and the French ‘cordovanier’ (now contracted into ‘cordonnier,’) a worker in leather.

Counterpane. The middle-age Latin ‘culcita’ meant a mattrass. This in French was ‘coulte,’ and in English became ‘quilt.’ ‘Culcita puncta’ meant a quilt punctured with stitches, so as to form a pattern. This, in French, became ‘coulte-pointe;’ afterwards converted into ‘conte-pointe,’ and ‘contre-pointe.’ Hence at length came the English ‘counter-pane.’

Country Dance. Some think that this really means a dance of country people. But the probable derivation is the French contre, ‘over against,’ or ‘opposite to,’ which has been corrupted into ‘country;’ and the whole word means a dance in which the partners stand opposite to (contre) each other.

Curmudgeon. It was suggested by Menage that this word is from the French ‘coeur,’ and ‘mÉchant,’ wicked heart. But the more probable derivation is from ‘corn-mudgin.’ Corn-mudgins were dealers in corn, who were unpopular, as it was thought that they hoarded, and kept up the price of corn, to serve their own interests. Hence the word came to signify an avaricious monopolist.

Delirious comes from the Latin compound ‘de’ (from), and ‘lira’ (a furrow, or ridge). The word is a metaphor, taken from those who deviate from the straight line, or furrow, in ploughing. It is now applied to those who rove in mind, or are disordered in intellect.

Ecstasy. This word has the meaning of violent excitement. It is now generally used in the sense of some pleasurable feeling, though it was formerly much more extended in signification. It is derived from the Greek ?? (out), and st?s?? (a standing); i.e. literally ‘a standing out.’ It is curious that in the Saxon part of our language, there is a corresponding phrase which exactly explains this word; viz. ‘to be beside oneself.’ We commonly say, ‘He was beside himself with joy.’ In a state of ‘ecstasy,’ the soul may be said to leap out, as it were, and stand forth from the body.

Fanatic is from the Latin ‘fanum,’ a temple. This adjective was at first applied to people affected by a strong religious feeling—possessed by an incontrollable enthusiasm.

Favour. Ladies in their most brilliant attire were generally spectators of the tournaments of the Middle Ages. They were, severally, interested in the knights, and encouraged them, by looks, tokens, or gestures, to do their duty manfully. They frequently threw them a portion of their dress, such as a sleeve, mantle, or bow of ribbons, called a favour, which the knight wore on his armour, and forfeited if he was vanquished. From this custom has descended, to our days, the fashion of distributing bows of ribbon, still called favours, to the guests and attendants at a wedding.

Faubourg. This is considered by French philologists, to be a corruption of ‘forsbourg.’ The old French ‘fors’ (now hors), is from the Latin ‘foras,’ ‘outside,’ or ‘abroad.’ Faubourg (the present orthography) would naturally lead to the idea that it meant ‘false town,’ or ‘unreal town:’ whereas it means and literally corresponds with the English ‘suburb,’ i.e. a district or place situated ‘foras burgi,’ outside the town.

Feud. According to M. Guizot, the word ‘feodum’ appears for the first time in a charter of Charles Le Gros, 884. The etymology is uncertain; but two suggestions have been made, either of which is probable. Some think the word is connected with the Latin ‘fides,’ faith, and means ‘land given,’ for which the holder was bound in fidelity to his suzerain lord. According to others, ‘feod’ is of Germanic origin; and is derived from ‘fe’ (or fee)—still used in English in the sense of a recompense—and ‘od’ an old Germanic root now obsolete, meaning ‘goods,’ or ‘property.’ Thus, ‘feod’ would mean reward-land. M. Guizot favours the second explanation.

Foolscap. By a statute of Queen Anne certain duties were imposed on all paper imported from abroad. Among the various sorts of paper herein mentioned is the Genoa ‘foolscap.’ This word is a corruption of the Italian ‘foglio capo,’ a chief, or full-sized, sheet of paper. Foglio (leaf), is from the Latin ‘folium,’ which appears in French as ‘feuille.’

Garment is a contraction of the French ‘garnement,’ from the verb ‘garnir,’ to decorate or garnish. It is now restricted to the meaning of ‘garnishing’ or decorating the body by dress.

Gew-gaw. The derivation of this word still remains doubtful, though many suggestions have been made of its origin. May it not be from the French ‘jou-jou,’ a plaything?

Gooseberry. Dr. Johnson, whose etymologies are not always to be depended on, especially those of Saxon words, explains the word ‘gooseberry’—‘a fruit eaten as a sauce for goose.’ But it is, in truth, a corruption of the German ‘krausbeere,’ or ‘krautelbeere,’ from ‘kraus’ or ‘gorse,’ ‘crisp;’ and the fruit is so called from the upright hairs with which it is covered. So that ‘gooseberry,’ is really, a corruption of ‘gorseberry.’ But what is gooseberry fool? ‘Fool’ is here also a corruption—it is from the French ‘foulÉ,’ ‘mashed’ or ‘crushed,’ and the whole word means ‘crushed gooseberries.’

Gossip. ‘Sib’ was an Anglo-Saxon word, meaning ‘relation,’ and the term ‘gossip’ was first applied to the relation between godfathers and godmothers in baptism, so that a gossip (or God-sib), meant a relation in God (i.e. in a religious sense). It has now passed into the sense of a great chatterer or talker; but the above explanation accounts for its origin.

Hammercloth. In the olden time, before there was any hotel accommodation in England for travellers, it was the custom with those going on a journey to fill a ‘hanaper’ (or hamper) with provisions, and throw a cloth over it, to conceal its somewhat homely appearance. This was placed in front of the carriage, and served as a seat for the driver. Thus, from ‘hanaper-cloth,’ came ‘hammer-cloth.’

Harbour. The two roots of this compound word are the Anglo-Saxon ‘here,’ an army; and ‘beorgan,’ to protect. A harbour is then, literally, a place to protect an army.

Heir-loom. From the Saxon ‘geloma,’ tools, utensils, or pieces of furniture. These in law are called personal chattels, and when they descended in inheritance from father to son, they were called ‘heir-looms.’

Homage is derived from the French ‘homme,’ a man. The ceremony of ‘homage’ was, in the Middle Ages, a solemn declaration of the vassal that he would be the man (homme) of his future lord. He knelt down; placed both his hands between those of his lord; with his head bare, and without his arms; and then swore that he would use his hands and his weapons, when they should be restored to him, in his future lord’s service.

Hurry. ‘Here’ was the Anglo-Saxon for an army (compare the German ‘Heer’); and ‘herian’ was to act as an army, viz. to ravage, despoil, and plunder a country. Hence come the English words ‘hurry,’ ‘harry,’ and ‘harrow.’

Hustings is from the Saxon ‘Hus’ (a house) and ‘Ting’ (a council). This was the name given to the municipal court of the City of London, where probably the elections were originally conducted. Now, the word signifies the booths where speeches are made at an election.

Jeopardy. This is from the Middle-Age Latin; ‘jocus partitus’ (French, ‘jeu-parti’), i.e. a divided game, where the chances are even—a choice of alternatives.

Kickshaws is a corruption of the French ‘quelque chose;’ something so disguised by cooking as scarcely to be recognised.

Late is from the Anglo-Saxon ‘lÆtan;’ to let, or allow. ‘Lazy’ is from the same root, as is also ‘loiter.’ He who ‘loiters’ must be ‘late.’

Lout. This comes from the Anglo-Saxon verb ‘lutian,’ to bow. It was originally applied to a cringing menial, who was continually bowing before his master; and as in this case, the act was probably performed in a clownish, ungraceful way, the word thus came to signify an awkward, clumsy fellow.

Menial. This adjective is derived from the old French noun ‘mesnie’ (or meny), which, in the Middle Ages, meant the servants or household of some noble or chieftain taken collectively. A menial occupation was, originally, one performed by some member of the ‘mesnie.’ It is from this last that the English expression ‘a many’ is derived. It was at first ‘a mesnie,’ or a collective number of servants.

Meringue. Shakspere says that ‘great events from trivial causes spring.’ But we may sometimes reverse this saying, and say with equal truth, that trivial effects spring from great causes. It may appear strange that the French could not hit upon a more dignified way of commemorating a victory than by giving its name to a then newly invented cake, but such is the fact. The battle of Marengo produced the ‘Meringue’!!

Miscreant, which is from the French mÉcreant (or mÉcroyant), was first used in the times of the Crusades, and then signified simply an unbeliever. But disbelief in Christianity being at that time regarded as the worst of crimes, the word soon passed into the more general sense of a wicked wretch.

Mouchard.—In the latter part of the sixteenth century, when the French Government was on the look-out for heretics, a certain Antoine Mouchy, a doctor of the Sorbonne and canon of Noyon, made himself notorious by his zeal against the Reformers. The secret spies he employed in detecting the heretics were called, from his name, Mouchards, a word which now signifies the basest and meanest of betrayers.

Mountebank.—This means a quack medicine vendor, so called from the Italian ‘montare’ (to mount) and ‘banco’ (a bench). Literally, one who mounts a bench, to boast of his infallible skill in curing diseases.

Naught. ‘Aught’ is a contraction of the Saxon ‘a wiht’ (or, a whit), any creature or thing. ‘Naught’ is the negative of ‘aught,’ and means ‘not a whit.’ The adjective ‘naughty’ is now confined in its application to the behaviour of children; but it was once much more extensively used.

Palace. This term, which is now used in a general sense for a king’s residence, was first applied to a dwelling of the Roman Emperor Nero. One of the seven hills of Rome was called ‘Palatinus,’ from Pales, a pastoral deity whose festival was there celebrated on April 21 as the birthday of Rome. Under Nero, all the private houses on the ‘collis Palatinus’ were pulled down to make room for the Emperor’s new residence. This house was called ‘Palatium,’ and it afterwards became the type of all the palaces of the kings and emperors of Europe.

Palfrey.—This is a contraction of the French ‘par le frein’ (by the bridle). It is a horse used on state occasions, and distinguished from the war horse—a horse led by the bridle, ‘menÉ par le frein.’

Pamphlet.—It is supposed that this word is a contraction of the French ‘par un filet.’ It means a small book, not bound, but held together by a thread—‘tenu par un filet.’

Pavilion is derived directly from the French ‘pavillon,’ where it is used in the sense of a tent or flag. But the origin of the word is the Latin ‘papilio,’ a butterfly. Tents or flags would be so called, because of their flapping about as a butterfly.

Person. This word was originally a theatrical term, and properly meant an actor. The theatres of the ancient Romans were built so large as to contain between 30,000 and 40,000 people. Now it was impossible for the actors to make themselves heard through so large a space; and they therefore wore masks, inside of which, close to the aperture for the mouth, was a certain mechanical contrivance, which made the voice more sonorous, so that the actors’ words could be heard in all parts of the theatre. The Latin for a mask is ‘persona,’ so called because the voice sounded through it. Per is in Latin, ‘through;’ and son is the root of the verb ‘sonare’ to sound. By a common figure of speech, the word meaning ‘mask’ (persona) was afterwards applied to its wearer; and thus ‘persona’ came to signify ‘actor.’ This was its original, theatrical meaning. But, as all human beings are, in one sense, actors—as they all have a part to play on the stage of life, the word ‘person’ was afterwards used in a general sense to signify any one man or woman. In one special case, it appears in the form ‘parson,’ to designate the ‘chief person,’ or priest, of a parish. In this sense, however, the word is now falling into disuse.

Pet. The French adjective ‘petit’ (small) is derived from the Latin participle, ‘petitus,’ sought after. From this root came the English word ‘pet.’ ‘My pet’ means literally, ‘my sought after or desired one.’ ‘Petty’ is also from the French ‘petit;’ but it has degenerated: and is now always used in a bad sense, as in a ‘petty action.’

Pert is nothing else than the old French ‘aperte,’ (from the Latin apertus) open, public, without concealment. The sense has now degenerated into ‘saucy’ or ‘impudent.’ ‘Malapert’ had that meaning from the beginning; but this word is now seldom used. ‘Pert’ seems to have taken its place.

Poltroon. The derivation of this word is still undecided; but the following account of it has been offered. In the later ages of the Roman empire, the ancient valour of the citizens had so degenerated that, rather than fight, many actually cut off their right thumbs, in order to disable themselves from using the pike. The Latin for ‘thumb’ is ‘pollex’; and ‘truncus’ means, in that language, ‘maimed’ or ‘mutilated.’ These two roots put together give us ‘pol-troon’ from ‘pollice truncus,’ i.e. with the thumb cut off. As this was done with a cowardly motive, the word very naturally came to signify a coward, a meaning which it retains to this day.

Pontiff (Lat. pontifex). There are various etymologies of this word. Varro derives it from ‘pons,’ a bridge, and ‘facere,’ to make or build. He says that the pontiffs had built the ‘pons sublicius’ (over the Tiber); and afterwards restored it, that sacrifices might be performed on each side of the river. It is now used only as a title of the Pope of Rome.

Porpoise. This word is from the French porc (hog) and poisson (fish); so called from its resemblance to a hog. Spenser spells the word ‘porcpisces.’ It is singular that, in this case, the French should have adopted the Teutonic word ‘marsouin’ (mereswine); while in English it is known by its French name—‘porc-poisson.’

Post. The apparently contradictory meanings of this word may give it a peculiar interest. In its original sense, it means something placed; from the Latin participle ‘positum’; as, for example, a pillar fixed in the street. But we also hear of post haste, post horses, &c., and, in these cases, the meaning seems directly opposed to the etymology. When letters, parcels, &c. were first transmitted from place to place, stations (or posts) were placed at intervals from each other, and letters were rapidly passed on by messengers from one station to the next, and so on, across the whole country. This was called post haste; i.e. in such haste as was used when letters were sent in the above-described way.

Punch. The well-known beverage called punch is said to be derived from the Hindostani panch—five. It means a mixture of five ingredients: 1. spirit, 2. water, 3. sugar, 4. acid, and 5. essential oil of lemon.

Puny. This is an English form of the French puis-nÉ, or (de)puis-nÉ (Latin, post natus), born since. It is in contradistinction to the French aÎnÉ (ante-natus) elder or born before; and now signifies weak, ill-conditioned in growth. A junior judge is still, in legal phrase, a puisne judge.

Quack. The whole word is in German ‘qualksalber,’ of which ‘quack’ is a contraction. ‘To quack’ is to talk boastfully—to make a great fuss; and ‘salber’ is from salve, something to heal; so that quacksalber may be explained, one who talks noisily and fussily about his healing medicines.

Quandary. This is a corruption of the French ‘qu’en dirai-(je)?’ ‘what shall I say of it?’ It expresses that condition of doubt or uncertainty in which such a question would be naturally asked.

RagoÛt. This French noun, which may be now considered as naturalised in English, is a contraction of the Italian ‘miro gusto,’ ‘wonderful taste.’

Raiment is derived from ‘to array,’ and is a contraction for ‘arrayment.’

Ransack. This word is founded in Swedish, ‘ransacka,’ where it means to search a house for stolen goods. It is compounded of the O.N. ‘rann,’ a house, and Sw. ‘soka,’ to seek.

Religion is from the Latin ‘re’ (back), and ‘ligare,’ ‘to bind;’ literally, that which binds back, or restrains us from the commission of sin.

Right and Wrong. The first of these words, in a secondary sense, has a meaning analogous to proceeding in a straight line, the Latin ‘rectus,’ from which it is derived, having that meaning. The French ‘droit’ is from ‘directus.’ Our word ‘wrong’ is only another form of ‘wrung,’ i. e. ‘twisted’ (out of the right line). It may be observed, by the way, that the French ‘tort’ (wrong) is from the Latin ‘tortus,’ twisted; so that the same principle operates in both cases.

Romance. A name given to certain European languages (especially the ProvenÇal), which grew out of the old Roman or Latin, The Troubadours, or poets, who wrote in the ProvenÇal language being notorious for their exaggerated sentiment, the word has come to mean a wildly imaginative fiction; and it is even sometimes used as a softened expression for a falsehood.

Salary. This is from the Latin ‘salarium.’ According to Pliny, it is derived from ‘sal’ (salt), that being the most necessary article for the maintenance of life. In the reign of the Emperor Augustus it comprised the provisions as well as the pay of the Roman military officers. From ‘salary’ probably came the expression, ‘he is not worth his salt,’ i.e. his pay, or wages.

Sarcasm.—The root of this word is the Greek s??? (sarx) flesh, from which comes sa????? (sarcazo) ‘I tear flesh.’ The derivation throws a strong light on its true meaning—a tearing of the flesh. But it is now used only in a secondary sense.

Saunter. It is said that, in the time of the Crusades, many foreign mendicants overran England. They professed to be on their return from a pilgrimage to the ‘Sainte Terre:’ and the popular voice gave these vagabonds the name of ‘saunterers.’

Sedition is from the Latin ‘se’ (apart), and ‘itio,’ a going (from ‘eo’ I go). Sedition, then, means ‘a going apart,’ i.e. a departure from submission to the laws. It now implies a violent opposition to government, and involves the idea of commotion and disturbance of the peace.

Seneschal. This is a compound of the Latin ‘senex’ (old) and the Gothic ‘scalco’ (a servant). The seneschal of a castle was, in the Middle Ages, an aged servant, whose duty it was to keep the keys, take care of the house, and superintend the feasts and domestic ceremonies. ‘Seneschal’ means ‘aged servant,’ as ‘marshal’ (‘mara scalco’) means, literally, ‘horse servant.’

Sincere. One suggestion concerning the etymology of this word is, that it was compounded from the Latin ‘sine’ (without), and ‘cerÂ’ (wax)—‘without wax.’ In this view, the term is referred to a practice of the ancient sculptors, who, when they found a flaw in the marble of which they were forming a statue, filled up the place with wax, in order to conceal the defect. Those pieces of statuary that had no flaws were, consequently, ‘sine cerÂ’ (without wax); and the word ‘sincere’ thus acquired its present meaning; viz. perfect, whole, without flaw. Many etymologists, however, reject this derivation, and the origin of the word is still considered as doubtful.

Simple. Whether ‘sincere’ be or be not from ‘sine cerÂ,’ it is generally allowed that ‘simple’ is from the Latin ‘sine,’ and ‘plico,’ I fold; i.e. literally, ‘without fold.’ The Latin ‘simplex,’ ‘duplex,’ ‘triplex,’ &c. are in English, ‘simple,’ ‘double,’ ‘triple,’ &c.

Soldier. This English word comes directly from the French ‘soldat,’ which, again, is from the Latin ‘solidus,’ Italian ‘soldo,’ and French ‘solde,’ ‘sou’ (pay)—the name of a coin which a man received as his pay for fighting. The word originally meant one who performed military service, not in fulfilment of the feudal obligation, but upon contract, and for stipulated pay.

Somerset. The corruption of a word often obscures its derivation; as is the case here. This is originally from the Italian ‘soprasalto,’ an over-leap. The French corrupted the word into ‘sobresault,’ and the English to ‘somersault,’ and then to ‘somerset.’ But it should be always spelled ‘somersault.’ It properly means a leap in which the heels are thrown over the head.

Spouse. The origin of this word may be traced to the Greek verb s????? (sbennumi), ‘I pour out;’ which passed into Latin as ‘spondeo’ (sponsus). The Latin verb came to signify ‘to make a contract’ or promise. In making contracts, it was a custom with the Romans to pour out libations to the gods. Hence, any one who contracted an engagement (especially in the case of marriage) was called ‘sponsus,’ i.e. ‘engaged,’ or ‘betrothed.’ The modern Italians softened the word into ‘sposo,’ and the French transformed it into ‘Époux.’ Then it passed into English in the form of ‘spouse.’ Godfathers and godmothers are called ‘sponsors,’ for the same reason; because they engage, or bind themselves, in certain contingencies, to instruct a child in his religious duties.

Stalwart is often written, in early English, ‘stal-ward.’ It is from the Anglo-Saxon ‘stal-weorth,’ i.e. worth stealing, or taking. The word is now used in the sense of strong-limbed, noble, manly in appearance.

Stationer. The word ‘statio’ meant, in the Middle Ages, ‘a stall,’ or ‘shop,’ and was at last used for a shop where books and paper were sold. Hence came ‘stationarius,’ one who held a station, or who dealt in books, paper, &c.

Tawdry. According to the legend, St. Etheldreda (Saint Audrey) is said to have died of a quinsy, which she considered sent her as a judgment for her vanity concerning necklaces in her youth. Hence ‘tawdry’ has been explained as the necklace of St. Audrey. The word now qualifies any silly, frivolous ornamentation; fine and showy, but without taste or elegance.

Thing. There is a close connection between the noun ‘thing’ and the verb ‘to think.’ In fact, the one is derived from the other. For what is a thing? It is whatever causes us to think. There is the same connection between the Latin noun ‘res’ and the verb ‘reor.’ We may also observe that the Italian ‘cosa’ and the French ‘chose’ are formed by the same analogy. They both mean ‘cause,’ i. e. cause of ideas or thoughts.

Tragedy. It was a custom with the Greek peasants, when they gathered in the vintage, to recite or sing an ode in honour of Bacchus, their tutelary god of wine; and on this solemn occasion, by way of propitiating that divinity, they sacrificed to him a he-goat. The Greek for a ‘he-goat’ is t?????; and a song (or ode) is, in that language, ?d? (ode). Putting together t????? and ?d? we get ‘tragoedia’ (tragedy); literally, ‘the song of the goat,’ or, the song sung when the goat was sacrificed to Bacchus. Various additions were afterwards made, such as dialogue, chorus, &c., till at length the drama appeared in its present form.

Wiseacre. This word has, really, no connection whatever with ‘acre.’ The two roots, ‘wise’ and ‘acre,’ are clearly incompatible. How then, did they come together? The word is, both in spelling and pronunciation, a corruption of the German ‘weissager,’ a ‘wise-sayer,’ or sayer of wise maxims, or precepts.

Wont. The Anglo-Saxon ‘wunian’ meant to dwell, which naturally involved the idea of being accustomed to; for we must become accustomed to the dwelling in which we live. ‘He was wont to say,’ means he was in the habit of saying. Compare the German ‘wohnen’ and ‘Wohnung.’

Zero. The name given to the arithmetical ‘0’ is said to be a contraction of the Italian ‘zephiro,’ a zephyr; i.e. a mere nothing; having no more substance than a breeze, or breath of air. It is also sometimes called a ‘cipher,’ from the Arabic ‘cifr,’ empty.

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