which are only understood by most people through their
etymology; and for these it may be well to keep their etymologically
transparent spelling, as _aetiology_, _[oe]strus_, &c. Whether learned
words of this kind, and classical names such as _Caesar_, _AEschylus_, &c.,
should be spelt with vowels ligatured or divided (_Caesar_, _Aeschylus_),
is a point about which present usage varies; and that usage does not
always represent the taste of the writers who employ it. Mr. Horace Hart,
in his _Rules for Compositors and Readers at the University Press,
Oxford_, ruled that the combinations _ae_ and _oe_ should each be printed
as two letters in Latin and Greek words and in English words of classical
derivation, but this last injunction is plainly deduced from the practice
of editors of Latin texts, and is an arbitrary rule in the interest of
uniformity: it has the sanction and influence of the Clarendon Press, but
is not universally accepted. Thus Dr. Henry Bradley writes, 'This question
does not seem to me to be settled by the mere fact that all recent
classical editors reject the ligatures, just as most of them reject other
aids to pronunciation which the ancients had not, such as j, v, for
consonantal _i_, _u_. Many printers have conformed the spelling of
_English_ words in this respect to the practice of editors of Latin texts.
I confess my own preference is for adhering to the English tradition of
the ligature, not only in English words, but even in Latin or Greek names
quoted in an English context. If we write ae, oe in Philae, Adelphoe, we
need the diaeresis in Aglae, Pholoe, and a name like Aeaea looks very funny
in an English context. The editors of Latin texts are perfectly right in
discarding the ligatures; but so they are also in writing Iuuenalis; Latin
is one thing and English is another.'

[Footnote 1: Shakespeare would have assisted the Hyena in her attempt to
naturalize herself in England:

'I will laugh like a Hyen, and that when thou art inclined to sleep.'
_A.Y.L._, IV. i. 156. [ED.]]

IV. _Dying Words_.

Our language is always suffering another kind of impoverishment which is
somewhat mysterious in its causes and perhaps impossible to prevent. This
is the kind of blight which attacks many of our most ancient, beautiful,
and expressive words, rendering them first of all unsuitable for
colloquial use, though they may be still used in prose. Next they are
driven out of the prose vocabulary into that of