n of his intimacy with them. He prefers to give
the proper French pronunciation to the words which he recognizes as
French; and moreover as the possession of culture, or even of education,
does not imply any knowledge of the history of English or of the
principles which govern its growth, the men of culture are often
inclined to pride themselves on this pedantic procedure.

It is, perhaps, because the men of culture in the United States are
fewer in proportion to the population that American usage is a little
more encouraging than the British. Just as we Americans have kept alive
not a few old words which have been allowed to drop out of the later
vocabulary of the United Kingdom, so we have kept alive--at least to a
certain extent--the power of complete assimilation. _Restaurant_, for
example, is generally pronounced as though its second syllable rhymed
with 'law', and its third with 'pant'. _Trait_ is pronounced in
accordance with its English spelling, and therefore very few Americans
have ever discovered the pun in the title of Dr. Doran's book, 'Table
Traits, and something on them'. I think that most Americans rhyme
_distrait_ to 'straight' and not to 'stray'. _Annexe_ has become
_annex_; _programme_ has become _program_--although the longer form
is still occasionally seen; and sometimes _coterie_ and _reverie_ are
'cotery' and 'revery'--in accord with the principle which long ago
simplified _phantasie_ to _fantasy_. _Charade_ like _marmalade_ rhymes
with _made_. _Brusk_ seems to be supplanting _brusque_ as _risky_ is
supplanting _risque_. _Elite_ is spelt without the accent; and it is
frequently pronounced _ell-leet_. _Cloture_ is rarely to be discovered
in American newspapers; _closure_ is not uncommon; but the term commonly
employed is the purely English 'previous question'.

In the final quarter of the nineteenth century an American adaptation of
a French comic opera, 'La Mascotte', was for two or three seasons very
popular. The heroine of its story was believed to have the gift of
bringing luck. So it is that Americans now call any animal which has
been adopted by a racing crew or by an athletic team (or even by a
regiment) a _mascot_; and probably not one in ten thousand of those who
use the word have any knowledge of its French origin, or any suspicion
that it was transformed from the title of a musical play.

I regret, however, to be forced to confess that I have lately been
shocked by a piece of petty ped