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tortion, dis-tort, ex-tortion, re-tort, torment, torsion, tortoise (so called from its twisted feet), tortuous, torture. . . . Fact: L. fa'cio, fac'tum, to make, to do; h., af-fect, af-fectation, con-fection, counter-feit, de-face, de-feat, de-fect, deficient, de-ficit (lit., it is wanting), dif-ficult, ef-fect, ef-ficacious, ef-ficient, face (L. fa'cies, make), facile (L. fă'cilis, easy), fuction, factor, factory, fac-totum (a do-all; to'tus, all), faculty, fashion, feasible, feat, feature, fiat (lit., let it be done), for-feit (för'is, out of doors), in-fect, of-fice (of = ob), per-fect, prefect, pont-iff (pons, a bridge), pro-fit, re-fection, re-fectory, sacri-fice (să'cer, sacred), suf-fice (suf — sub), sur-face (sur = super, above), super-ficies, sur-feit, and numerous verbs ending in -fy, as, ampli-fy, and nouns in -faction and -fice, as, satis-faction, edi-fice.. Ferment: v. FERVENT. . . . Idiot: fr. the Gr. idiō'tēs, a private person; fr. id'iõs, one's own, private. . . . Immedicable: L. immedicab'ilis, not to be healed; fr. im=in-, not, and medicab'ilis; fr. med'eor, I heal; h., ir-re-mediable, medical, medicament, medicine, rě-medy, etc. . . . Irritate: L. ir'rito, irrita'tum. . . . Maturity: L. maturitas; fr. matu'rus, ripe; h., im-mature, pre-mature. Necessity: L. neces'sitas; fr. neces'se, necessary; fr. ne, not, and ces'sus, p. p. of ce'do, cessum, to go, to yield. . . . Philadelphia: fr. the Gr. philadelphos, fond of one's brother or sister; fr. philos, loved, and aděľ'phòs, brother. . . . Repeal: F. rappeler, to call back; fr. L. re, back, and appel'lo, appella'tum, to approach, to address; fr. ap=ad, to, and pello, I drive; h., ap-peal, ap-pellative: v. PULSE. . . . Sagacity: L. sagă'citas; fr. sag'ax, sagacious; fr. saglio, I perceive acutely; h.. pre-sage. . Senate L. sena'tus; fr. sen'ex, sen'icis, old, an old man; h., senile, senior. . . . Sublime : L. subli'mis; probably fr. sub'levo, I lift up from beneath: v. RELIEF. . . . Тах : V. ТАСТ. . Urge: L. ur'geo, I press on. . . . Violent : L. vi'olens, violen'tis; fr. vis, strength, force; h., in-violable, violate. ... Vulnerable: fr. L. vulnus, a wound; h., in-vulnerable.

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LXXIII. THE BATTLE OF IVRY.

Before the battle Henry thus addressed his troops: "My children, if you lose sight of your colors, rally to my white plume; you will always find it in the path to honor and glory!" His conduct was answerable to his promise. Henry IV., king of France, born 1553; died 1610.

I.

Now glory to the Lord of hosts, from whom all glories are!
And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre!
Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance
Through thy corn-fields green and sunny vines, O pleasant land
of France!

And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters,
Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters;
As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy,

For cold and stiff and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy. Hurrah! hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war! Hurrah! hurrah! for Ivry and Henry of Navarre!

II.

Oh how our hearts were beating when, at the dawn of day,
We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array!
With all its priest-led citizens and all its rebel peers,
And Appenzel's stout infantry and Egmont's Flemish spears!
There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land;
And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand;
And as we looked on them we thought of Seine's empurpled flood,
And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his blood;
And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war,
To fight for his own holy name and Henry of Navarre.

III.

The king has come to marshal us, in all his armor dressed,
And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest.
He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye;

He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high.
Right graciously he smiled on us as rolled from wing to wing,
Down all our line, a deafening shout, "God save our lord the king!"
"And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may-

For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray—

Press where ye see my white plume shine amid the ranks of war, And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre."

IV.

Hurrah! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din
Of fife and steed, and trump and drum, and roaring culverin.
The fiery duke is pricking fast across Saint Andre's plain,
With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne.
Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France,
Charge for the golden lilies now--upon them with the lance!
A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest,
A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest;
And in they burst and on they rushed, while like a guiding star,
Amid the thickest carnage, blazed the helmet of Navarre.

V.

Now, God be praised, the day is ours! Mayenne hath turned his rein;

D'Aumale hath cried for quarter, the Flemish count is slain;

Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale, The field is heaped with bleeding steeds and flags and cloven mail. And then we thought on vengeance, and all along our van,

Remember Saint Bartholomew !" was passed from man to man. But out spake gentle Henry: "No Frenchman is my foe; Down-down with every foreigner, but let your brethren go!" Oh was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war, As our sovereign lord, King Henry, the soldier of Navarre?

VI.

Ho, maidens of Vienna ! ho, matrons of Lucerne !

Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return.
Ho, Philip! send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles,
That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls
Ho, gallant nobles of the League! look that your arms be bright;
Ho, burghers of St. Genevieve! keep watch and ward to-night;
For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the slave,
And mocked the counsel of the wise and the valor of the brave.
Then glory to his holy name from whom all glories are,
And glory to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Navarre!

...

MACAULAY.

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SELECT ETYMOLOGIES.-Annoy: F. ennuyer; fr. L. ad and no'ceo, I hurt. ... Array: old. F. arroyer, to set in order. Burgher: an inhabitant of a burg; fr. the A. S. burg, or borough, a fortified town. . . . Carnage: L. ca'ro, car'nis, flesh; h., carnal, carnation, carnelian, carnival (car'nival'e, farewell to flesh), charnel, in-carnadine, in-carnate. . . . City: L. ci'vitas; fr. ci'vis, a citizen; h., citizen, civic, civil, civilize, etc. . . . Crest : L. cris'ta, a tuft on the head of animals. . . . Culverin: F. coulverine, a long slender gun; fr. couleuvre, a snake. Helmet: fr. the Icelandic

...

...

hilma, to cover. . . . Marshal: L. L. mar-es-cal'cus, the master of the horse; fr. the old Ger. mahre, a horse, and schalk, servant. Name: L. no'men, nom'inis; h., cog-nomen (a surname, cog = con), de-nominate, ignominy (ig = in-, not; h., a deprivation of one's good name), nominal, nominate, noun, pro-noun, re-nown, etc. . . . Oriflamme: the ancient royal standard of France; F.; fr. L. au'rum, gold, and flam'ma, a flame. Plume: L. plu'ma, a small soft feather. Truncheon, a short staff; fr. L. trun'co, trunca'tum, to lop, to cut off; h., truncate, trunk. . . . Vine: L. vi'nea, vi'num, wine; h., vinegar (F. vin, wine, and aigre, sour), vinous, vintage.

Large numbers of genuine compound nouns, mostly of foreign origin, have lost their compound meaning, and now represent, at least to the unlearned, but one single idea. To this class belong Vinegar, from the French vin aigre, sour wine; Verdict, from the Latin ve're dic'tum, to tell truly; Bachelor, from the French bas chevalier, a lower knight; Biscuit, from the Latin bis coc'tus, twice baked.

LXXIV. MY UNCLE PETER.

1. I WILL tell you the story of my uncle Peter, who was born on Christmas day. The first remembrance that I have of him is his taking me one Christmas eve to the largest toyshop in London, and telling me to choose any toy whatever that I pleased. He little knew the agony of embarrassment into which this request of his threw his astonished nephew. I wandered about, staring like a distracted ghost at the “wealth of Ormus and of Ind" displayed about me. Uncle Peter followed me with perfect patience; nay, I believe, with a delight that equaled my perplexity, for every now and then, when I looked round to him with a silent appeal for sympathy in the distressing dilemma into which he had thrown me, I found him rubbing his hands and spiritually chuckling over his victim. How long I was in making up my mind I cannot tell, but as I look back upon this splendor of my childhood, I feel as if I must have wandered for weeks through interminable forestalleys of toy-bearing trees.

2. Uncle Peter was a little round man, and to look at him you could not have fancied a face or a figure with less of the romantic about them, yet I believe that the whole region of his brain was held in fee-simple-whatever that may mean— by a race of fairy architects who built aërial castles therein, regardless of expense. His imagination was the most distinguishing feature of his character, and to hear him defend any of his extravagances, it would appear that he considered himself especially privileged in that respect. "Ah, my dear," he would say to my mother, when she expostulated with him on making some present far beyond the small means he at that time possessed-"ah, my dear, you see I was born on Christmas day." I do not think he had more than a hundred pounds a year, and he must have been five and thirty, but Uncle Peter lived in constant hope and expectation of some unexampled good luck befalling him; "For," said he, "I was born on Christmas day."

3. He was never married. When people ventured to jest

with him about being an old bachelor, he used to smile, for anything would make him smile, but he never said anything on the subject, and not even my mother knew whether he had any love-story or not. I ha often wondered whether his goodness might not have come in part from his having lost some one very dear to him, and having his life on earth purified by the thoughts of her life in heaven. But I never found out. The lucky fortune which Uncle Peter had anticipated came at last. A cousin of whom he had heard little for a great many years, although they had been warm friends while at school together, died in India and left him a large estate. But before the legacy was paid to Uncle Peter, he went through a good many of the tortures which result from being "a king and no king." At length, after much skirmishing with the lawyers, he succeeded in getting a thousand pounds on Christmas eve.

That

We were

4. "NOW!" said Uncle Peter, in enormous capitals. night a thundering knock was heard at our door. all sitting in our little dining-room-father, mother and seven. children of us-talking about what we should prepare for the next day. The door opened, and in came the most grotesque figure you could imagine. It was seven feet high at least, without any head, a mere walking tree-stump, as far as shape went, only it looked soft. The little ones were terrified, but not the big ones of us, for from top to toe (if it had a toe) it was covered with toys of every conceivable description, fastened on to it somehow or other. It was a perfect treasurecave of Ali Baba turned inside out. We shrieked with delight. The figure stood perfectly still, and we gathered round it in a group to have a nearer view of the wonder.

5. We then discovered that on all the articles there were tickets, which we supposed at first to record the price of each. But, upon still closer examination, we discovered that every one of the tickets had one or other of our names upon it. This caused a fresh explosion of joy. Nor was it the children only that were remembered. A little box bore my mother's name. When she opened it, we saw a real gold watch and