I may supplement my reply, ante, p. 32, by noting that a deceased friend of mine many years ago, when an officer in the Grenadier Guards, made a rubbing of the carving by Adam Sedbar in the White Tower in London, then used as their messroom. It is as follows in Roman capital letters ADAM · SEDBAR · ABBAS · IOREVALL. He was the twenty-third and last Abbot of Jervaulx, and was executed at Tyburn in 1537. John Pickford, M.A.
"Shoe" (10 S. xi. 66).—The history of the spelling of this word is perfectly well known; but it is impossible to give the whole of this long story. It opens up the whole question of Anglo-Saxon, Middle-English, Elizabethan, and modern English pronunciation. It is hardly unique, as doe for do was once extremely common. Moreover, the spelling shooe is usual in 'The Two Gent, of Verona' (II. iii. 16, 17, 19, 27); the plural appearing in Shakespeare both as shooes and shoone.
It also opens up the whole question of the open and close o in Middle English, which takes up four entire pages in the Introduction to my edition of Chaucer, vol. vi. pp. xxxi v.
As a fact, the spelling shoo does not occur in Chaucer's 'Prologue' in any of the six best MSS. MSS. E., Hn., Pt., have sho; and Cm., Cp., Ln., have scho. It rimed with principio.
Both the A.-S. ā and the A.-S. ō became oo (also written o) in Middle English; but, though written alike, they were pronounced differently. The former had the sound of oa in broad, oar, roar, soar, or of o in ore, fore, gore, lore, more, &c. But the latter had the sound of o in so, go, no, &c.
Later, the former gradually took up the sound of the latter, viz., in all words (except broad) in which it was not followed by r. In order to express this gradually closing o (which resulted from an old open o), the symbol oa was invented; as in road, oak, &c., M.E. rood, ook, &c., A.-S. rād, āc, &c. All this is explained in my 'Primer of English Etymology,' a book which I suspect to be as much neglected as even the 'N.E.D.' The word broad (except when open o preceded r) is the only word left which retains the Chaucerian open o.
But a difficulty arose when this sound was absolutely final. In such cases the true forms should have been doa, toa, roa, foa, for M.E. doo, too, roo, foo (also written do, to, ro, fo); but the absurd principle of making the spelling appeal to the eye was setting in, and (merely to please the eye) these words were written doe, toe, roe, foe. For Shakespeare's time we may add goe, a common spelling of go.
For the close sound, which passed into the sound of the u in rule, the symbol adopted was oo, which was nothing but the M.E. symbol retained, but restricted to only one sound instead of two. Hence we have cool, tool, mood, &e., M.E. cool, tool, mood (also written col, tol, mod), &c., A.-S. cōl, tōl, mōl.
What was to be done when the sound was final? As a fact, nothing was settled; so there were at least three answers. M.E. shoo (or sho) became shooe, shoe; M.E. to became both to and too. Hence such contradictions as shoe from A.-S. sceō (sh representing sce); toe, A.-S. tā; too, A.-S. tō; to, A.-S. tō; go, A.-S. gā; do, A.-S. dō!
Mr. Lynn must be quoting an early misprint in Prof. Skeat's 'Etymological Dictionary.' The German cognate has its proper form, at any rate, in the 1901 edition of the 'Concise Etymological Dictionary.'
Pimlico (10 S. x. 401, 457, 514; xi. 75).—Certainly there are places in the Antilles of this name; at least I can speak for the Bahamas, where there are more "Pimlicoes" than one, although they may be fitly described as mere dots on the map. In the string of islets that run from Eleuthera to New Providence, e.g., there occurs "Pimlico I." Again, in the Exuma group there are the "Pimlico Cays." It is probable, owing to the fact that a number of these Bahamian rocks and cays are called after the fauna of the region—Flamingo Point, Alligator Cay, Pigeon Rock, Hawk's Nest, and so on—that Pimlico is but another of these bird- and beast-names. Two years ago last April, on the north side of Harbour Island, I remember stalking along the shore a largish wading bird with the view of getting a closer sight of the creature; but it moved on and on, and finally winged itself away beyond my ken. As far as I remember, the native name of the bird is "pimlico" or "pamlico." I am not certain on this point, but could without much difficulty obtain the correct designation.
Although it is quite another story, one could wish that words could describe, or colours depict, the extraordinary beauty of the seascape as seen from that Harbour Island shore, or (for that matter) from a
