Dr. Charnock, in his interesting volume, furnishes a curiosity, in the shape of an autobiographical sketch written almost exclusively in surnames. It purports to be written by Aretchid Kooez. We give a short sample of this specimen of patronymic language: "Ive Been a Great Traveller, and Such a Walker! Ive Trodden Many Lands, And Wass Once a Pilgrim to Calvary, Galilee, Nazareth, Jordan, Jerusalem, And Gath, without Firman Hor Pass Port. The Weather Does Not Stop Mee: Hit His Aul The Same; Fine weather, Fairweather, Merryweather, Even Foulweather. I Delight In Tempest, Snow, Storm, Rain, Shower, Hail, Thaw, Sleet, Frost, Dew, Wind, Fog, Mist, and Gale."

Those who contend the human race is dwarfing and degenerating, instead of developing, might use for an argument some of the etymological facts newly arrayed before us. The kingly Canute, they might say, has shrunk to Mr. Nutt in our hands. Pele has been clipped and rolled into Pill; the Humphrey of former days is a mere Fry in ours. But, per contra, how consoling to Mr. Silly to know that he is in reality Ceely; for Mr. Shovel to know that his ancestors were Escovilles; for a Smallbone to reflect that his forefathers were Sæbiörns (sea-bears); for a Slumber to believe one member of his family has been a St. Lambert; for Slow to return to De la Slo; for the Sextys and Sixtys to know there was a Sacristan in their family in former times; for the Slippers to know they were once sword-grinders, having slipped downwards from the Teutonic, SchwerdtSchleiffer; for the Gambles to be able to plume themselves upon having been Fitz-gamels, as well as Gumboils (from the gund-bold-bold in war); or for the Gins to know that scholars trace their name to the root of Plantagenista, accident alone having made the difference.

The Painters, Panters, Pantlings, have had, at some time in their generations, the post of bread-keeper or panetarius, either in a monastic or other large establishment; and Paradise, unlikely as it appears to be, also bears within itself the badge of former servitude, from the O.G. paradeus, a servant.

But to return to our string of instances in which it is consoling to look backward. The Sands, numerous and unpretending as we should suppose them, have probably been sent forth, in former times, as envoys or princely messengers, if we may take the etymological evidence

of five languages as an index of their origin. Leaf, seemingly, so valueless, is a corruption of Lèof, beloved, precious. Muffin is a contraction of Morfin, a sea-brink. Gotobed is traced to Gottbet, pray to God. Deadman should be Debenham, from a place of that name in Suffolk, much to its gain.

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There is a curious evidence of the departure of a name from its original meaning, preserved in the parish register of Brenchley in Kent, where an entry states that, in 1612, 'John Diamond, son of John Du Mont, the Frenchman, was baptized." Against the name Smoker, which Mr. Fergusson thinks may be derived from the Anglo-Saxon smicere, elegant, polished, but which is more likely to be a derivation from the Danish smuk, fair, handsome, fine-there occurs a note to the effect that before the Reform Bill of 1832 was passed, every person at Preston, who had a cottage with a chimney, and used the latter, had a vote, and was called a smoker.

Some curious names are the result of a tendency of drawing, towards a meaning, as in Sweetsir, which is evidently merely a slight departure in sound from the German Schweitzer, a Swiss; or Broadfoot, which must have been Bradford; or Wedlock, which must be but a derivation from Wedlake. Gem, from James, with the aid, perhaps of an intermediate Jim; Giddy, from Gideon; Girl, from Carle; are samples of surnames with English meanings, made out of Christian names by force of this tendency.

XXXVIII.

THE ADVANTAGES OF A HOUSE-TOP. Mr. Charles Reade has written a series of letters, insisting that the present ordinary method of building houses is essentially faulty, and advocating various changes; among them, that houses in towns should have accessible flat roofs. The following are, he says, the "advantages offered by the rational roof:"

1. High chimney stacks not needed.

2. Nine smoking chimneys cured out of ten. There are always people at hand to make the householder believe his chimney smokes by some fault of construction, and so they gull him into expenses, and his chimney smokes on-because it is not thoroughly swept. Send a faithful servant on to the rational roof, let him see the chimney-sweep's brush at the top of every chimney before you pay a shilling,

and good-bye smoking chimneys. Sweeps are rogues, and the irrational roof is their shield and buckler.

3. The rails painted chocolate and the spikes gilt would mightily improve our gloomy streets.

4. Stretch clothes' lines from spike to spike, and there is a drying-ground for the poor, or for such substantial people as are sick of the washerwomen and their villany. These heartless knaves are now rotting fine cambric and lace with soda and chloride of lime, though borax is nearly as detergent and injures nothing.

5. A playground in a purer air for children that cannot get to the parks. There is no ceiling to crack below.

6. In summer heats a blest retreat. Irrigate and cool from the cistern; then set four converging poles, stretch over these, from spike to spike, a few breadths of awning; and there is a delightful tent and perhaps a country view. If the Star and Garter at Richmond had possessed such a roof, they would have made at least two thousand a year upon it, and perhaps have saved their manager from a terrible death.

7. On each roof a little flagstaff and streamer to light the gloom with sparks of colour, and tell the world the master is at home or not. This would be of little use now; but, when once the rational roof becomes common, many a friend could learn from his own roof whether a friend was at home, and so men's eyes might save their legs.

8. In case of fire, the young and old would walk out by a rational door on to a rational roof, and ring at a rational gate. Then their neighbour lets them on to his rational roof, and they are safe. Meantime, the adult males, if any, have time to throw wet blankets on the skylight, and turn the water on to the roof. The rational roof, after saving the family, which its predecessor would have destroyed, now proceeds to combat the fire. It operates as an obstinate cowl over the fire; and, if there are engines on the spot, the victory is certain. Compare this with the whole conduct of the irrational roof. First it murdered the inmates, then it fed the fire, then it collapsed and fell on the ground floor, destroying more property, and endangering the firemen.

XXXIX.

LONG HAIR AND SHORT.

Our primitive ancestors, the Britons, and,

like them, the Gauls, allowed their hair to grow undisturbed. It often reached below the waist, and men like Caractacus must have looked curiosities. Conquered by the Romans, the Gauls and Britons were ignominiously clipped. In his enumeration of the Gallic tribes led into captivity by Cæsar, Lucian speaks of the Ligures "now shorn, but erewhile possessed of an abundant flow of hair." Those of the Gauls who obtained their liberation hastened to let their hair grow again: in order the more to mark the importance they attached to the flowing locks, they took to shaving their slaves.

It is thus that Ausonius speaks of four young boys and four young girls, all shorn, as being a customary present to a rich Gaul on his wedding-day.

At the beginning of the fifth century, Pharamond established his kingdom in the province which thenceforth took the name of France. The Gauls were reduced to a state of bondage, and the conquerors laid ruthless scissors upon their victims' polls. From this time it became a generally understood thing all over Europe that long hair was the exclusive appanage of the great and noble. Not only serfs, but free peasants and burgesses, were forbidden to go about otherwise than cropped. The glebe slaves on a nobleman's estate were even (during the fifth, sixth, and seventh centuries) shorn altogether; and it is from this custom that the practice of saluting by taking off the hat arose. The act of uncovering the head amounted to saying, “See, sir; I am your servant; I have no hair."

XL.

HAIR-DRESSING IN THE LAST CENTURY.

The eighteenth century was a period marked by the greatest monstrosities and eccentricities ever perpetrated in the world of hair-dressing. The very wildest absurdities of savage nations were left far behind in the race after the ridiculous. Matters began gently. The hair was simply raised at first over a cushion seven or eight inches in height, and shaped like a cocoa-nut. After awhile, this head-dress began to rise higher and higher. All sorts of objects were sought to be imitated in coiffures. Here a lady is represented with her hair dressed upright in the form of a lyre. There a second has hers arranged like a string of cherries on stick. A third lady luxuriates in a huge mass

An

rolled over pads, surmounted by a double fan of lace and artificial flowers. Another carries about an imitation of a dove, the size of life, perched on her head. A jardinière full of gathered flowers loads another belle, as if she were a market woman hawking her wares. A rival beauty absolutely supports the model of a vessel in full sail, two feet long at least, on the top of her head, while her hair is dressed out behind to float it, and represents a mimic sea. Others have profusions of flowers, feathers, ribbons, scarves, and hats to crown them. immense deal of false hair was used, and the mass cemented with a hard pomade of hog's lard and marrow, liberally used. After dressing, the whole was well powdered. As these chevelures took a long time, and were costly to arrange, it was not considered possible to remake them often; therefore one dressing usually sufficed for at least a month. Previously to any grand ball, ladies' heads were often dressed a week, and even a fortnight, in advance. To have it dressed a night or two before was nothing. The lady sat up and slept in a chair in the interval, full of terror lest during her fitful slumbers she should damage her coiffure. Her pallid looks mattered nothing. Paint and washes were in vogue.

feet? This prisoned sunshine we set free whenever we kindle a fire of coals. When the sun ceases to shine upon cold, misty, wintry days, we draw upon the sunshine of a million years ago, to drive away the frost and make us comfortable. The source of all labour is the sun; and we get the benefit of his labour when we burn the coal or the wood in which he has condensed and preserved it. No ray of sunlight has ever been wasted or thrown away. It is because Nature has been so thrifty in her household ways, that we are enabled to be so prodigal of our resources to-day, spending upwards of one hundred million tons of coal every year, and with that vast consumption of sun labour, producing all the varied and extraordinary work that we do under the sun.-The Rev. Hugh Macmillan.

XLI.

COAL AND SUNBEAMS.

A lump of coal, it is often said, is made up of sunbeams. We could believe this more readily of the diamond, which is just a crystal of coal, for it is so bright and sparkling, and makes brilliant sunshine in a shady place. But even the dull black coal has been formed of the sunshine of long-forgotten summers. Every sunbeam that fell upon the club mosses and ferns of the old coal forests enabled them to withdraw the minute unseen carbon from the air, and to form out of it their own solid tissue. They thus caged and imprisoned the floating light itself, and wrought its bright threads in their loom into the beautiful patterns of stem and leaf which they showed. To form one of the little rings of wood in the trunk of one of the old pines, took the sunshine of a long summer falling upon all its thousand leaves; and who can tell how much sunshine has been worked up in the stores of coal that lie concealed under our

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CHAPTER X.

DOCUMENTS OF THE HOLY OFFICE.

EFORE describing the proceedings of an Auto-da-fé, there are some particulars to be detailed as to the character of the Inquisition that seem necessary to a full understanding of the proceedings of the Holy Office. They are to some extent documentary, and so far are the kind of evidence most desirable in so dark and terrible a story. They satisfy the mind more fully than any narrative.

Nicholas Eymerie was the chief Inquisitor of Aragon. He was a Dominican monk, and carefully and elaborately wrote his directions or instructions as to the proceedings of the Inquisitors. He gives ten processes or stratagems to be adopted by them, according to circumstances, in the examination of their prisoners. One of these is as follows:

"If the Inquisitor perceives the heretic or accused person is unwilling to reveal the truth, let him take the process into his hands, and turning it over, as if reading it, say to the prisoner that it is clear that he is not speaking the truth, and that the real facts are as the Inquisitor had stated, and let him charge the prisoner to utter the truth of the affair, as it appears in the process against him. Or let him take some document or writing into his hands; and then, when the heretic or accused person, when questioned, denies this or that fact, let the Inquisitor look at him as if in astonishment, and say to him, 'How can you possibly deny it ? It is quite clear to me.' Let the Inquisitor then look down on the document in his hands, and read, and fold down the leaf, and then say, 'I said the truth. Now speak, for you see that I know it all.' But let the Inquisitor be careful to say nothing as to the details of the matter, lest the prisoner should

perceive he knows nothing about it; but let him say generally, 'It is perfectly ascertained where you have been, and with whom you were, and at what time, and everything you said.' In all else let him speak in generalities."

This remarkable direction reveals the subtlety and cunning with which the unhappy prisoner was examined, and entrapped often to his own ruin. The next direction or stratagem is equally worthy of a place here:

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Let the Inquisitor induce one of the accomplices of the prisoner, or some other person who has been converted from the same faith which the prisoner holds,-one in whom he can trust,—and let this person enter the prison and converse with the prisoner. Let this person pretend that his conversion was feigned, and that he had abjured through fear, and thus had deceived the Inquisitor. Let him thus secure the confidence of the prisoner, and protract his conversation with him till too late at night for him to leave the prison. He can thus remain with the prisoner, and converse with him all the night, talking mutually over everything they had done, and thus inducing the prisoner to tell him everything. At the same time let persons be so placed outside the cell to watch, to listen, and take down his words; and, if necessary, let there be a notary with them."

It is difficult to find words to characterize adequately such a system as this. It is utterly inconsistent and incompatible with all our English notions of honour and justice and right dealing. It is hard to denounce it as it deserves; and yet so utterly depraving and degrading is it in its effects on the mind, that this Eymerie-this monkish Inquisitor-seems so wholly unconscious that there is anything debasing in it, that he sets these rules formally before the Inquisitors as those on which the Tribunal is to proceed.

When they had obtained a clue leading to the precise point at which they were aiming, either in inducing the prisoner to criminate himself or to incriminate some one else, they were to take measures to extract more by the process of the torture. All this has been already described; and therefore we simply give here the form of sentence in such cases :

"Christi nomine invocato.-We, invoking the Name of Christ, do hereby ordain, after due examination made of the proceedings of the said trial, as well as of the inferences and suspicions which thence result against the said

that we ought, and hereby do condemn him to be questioned under torture; on which we command that he be placed, and thereon remain for such time as to us may appear fit, in order that he may declare the truth of what is attested and alleged against him; under the protestation we now make against him, that if, during the said torture, he should die, or should be maimed, or there should be any effusion of blood, or mutilation of the limbs ensuing therefrom, then the blame and charge thereof shall rest on himself and not on us, owing to his not having confessed the truth. And by this our sentence we desire and command the same to be done by virtue of and in conformity with the tenor of these presents."

The Inquisitors thus admitted a full consciousness of the danger to life and limb in the process of the torture; but instead of recognising the responsibility entailed on them in issuing the order, they coolly charge that responsibility on the victim. When Pontius Pilate washed his hands before the multitude and imagined that he could thus wash his hands of the terrible responsibility of his acts, he did not play the hypocrite like these men, affecting to clear their own souls by such a process as this protest in their own favour. Pontius Pilate did not lay the responsibility on the innocent victim. It remained for these Inquisitors to perpetrate this.

The many fatalities attending the process of torture, the ropes, the pulleys, the rack, the fire, and other instruments employed,-when the victim was of a weakly constitution, and especially in the case of tender women, occasioned the necessity for the Inquisitors taking some steps to secure at least the appearance of care and moderation. They accordingly required, in some places, a strict and rigid account of the whole process as exercised on

any person. The secretary, according to the "Order of Procedure," was to make this return:

"He shall set down in what manner they ordered his arms to be bound; the number of turns given to the rope; how they ordered him to be stretched on the horse, and to have his legs, head, and arms bound, and in what manner this was done; how they directed and applied the screws; how they were tightened, and whether against the leg, the thigh, the arms, &c. He shall further write down what was said on each of these occasions; and in what manner the piece of silk was put into his throat, how many jars of water were poured down, and how much each jar contained."

All this, and more of the same kind, may be read in the official "Order of Procedure." While it was intended by these minute directions to satisfy the public mind that the Inquisitors were very precise and particular to prevent any excess on the part of the officials and familiars, it shows at the same time the nature and character of the torture itself. But we are in a position to adduce documentary evidence. A case detailed in Llorente will suitably illustrate the foregoing extract from the "Order of Procedure," and also the form of sentence to the torture. Llorente gives both the decree and the process-verbal of its execution.

In the decree or sentence issued by the Inquisitor Moritz against Juan de Salas, are these words :

"We ordain that the said torture be employed in the manner and during the time that we shall think proper; after having protested, as we still protest, that in case of injury, death, or fractured limbs, the fault can only be imputed to the said licentiate Salas."

And the process-verbal describing the application of the torture, according to the "Order of Procedure," is as follows:

"At Valladolid, on the 21st of June, 1527, the licentiate Moritz, Inquisitor, caused the licentiate Juan de Salas to appear before him; and the sentence was read and notified to him. After the reading, the licentiate Salas declared that he had not said that of which he had been accused, and the said licentiate Moritz immediately caused him to be conducted to the chamber of torture, where, being stripped to his shirt, Salas was placed by the shoulders into the chevalet, where the executioner, Pedro