m
stem
trip

To Table IX add

must [^1] _obs? new wine_, [^2] _verb._

To Shakespearean obsoletes p. 27 add

limn, _lost in_ limb.

* * * * *

THE SKILFUL LEECH

The Poet Laureate has pointed out that several useful words have been
lost to the English language because their identity in sound with
other words renders it impossible to use them without the risk either
of being misunderstood or of calling up undesirable associations.
It is owing to this cause that English--or, at least, the English of
Great Britain--has no word that can correctly be used as a general
designation for a member of the healing profession. In America, I
believe, the word is 'physician'; but in England that appellation
belongs to one branch of the profession exclusively. The most usual
term here is 'doctor'; but the M.D. rightly objects to the application
of this title to his professional brother who has no degree; and in
a university town to say that John Smith is a doctor would be
inconveniently ambiguous. 'Medical man' is cumbrous, and has the
further disadvantage (in these days) of not being of common gender.
Now the lack of any proper word for a meaning so constantly needing
to be expressed is certainly a serious defect in modern (insular)
English. The Americans have some right to crow over us here; but their
'physician' is a long word; and though it has been good English in
the sense of _medicus_ for six hundred years, it ought by etymology
to mean what _physicien_ does in French, and _physicist_ in modern
English. Our ancestors were better off in this respect than either we
or the Americans. The only native word to denote a practiser of the
healing art is _leech_, which is better than the foreign 'physician'
because it is shorter. It was once a term of high dignity: Chaucer
could apply it figuratively to God, as the healer of souls; and even
in the sixteenth century a poet could address his lady as 'My sorowes
leech'. Why can we not so use it now? Why do we not speak of 'The
Royal College of Leeches'? Obviously, because a word of the same form
happens to be the name of an ugly little animal of disgusting habits.
If I were to introduce my medical attendant to a friend with the words
'This is my leech', the gentleman (or lady) so presented would think
I was indulging in the same sort of pleasantry as is used when a
coachman is called a 'whip'; and he (or she) would probably not
consider th