‘A strange word for a knife! is it not?’ said the old man.
‘Tawse!’ said I—‘tawse!’
‘What is tawse?’ said the old man.
‘You were never at school at Edinburgh, I suppose?’
‘Never,’ said the old man.
‘That accounts for your not knowing the meaning of tawse,’ said I; ‘had you received the rudiments of a classical education at the High School, you would have known the meaning of tawse full well. It is a leathern thong, with which refractory urchins are recalled to a sense of their duty by the dominie. Tau—tawse—how singular!’
‘I cannot see what the two words have in common, except a slight agreement in sound.’
‘You will see the connection,’ said I, ‘when I inform you that the thong, from the middle to the bottom, is cut or slit into two or three parts, from which slits or cuts, unless I am very much mistaken, it derives its name—tawse, a thong with slits or cuts, used for chastising disorderly urchins at the High School, from the French tailler, to cut; evidently connected with the Chinese tau, a knife—how very extraordinary!’
CHAPTER XXXIII
CONVALESCENCE—THE SURGEON’S BILL—LETTER OF RECOMMENDATION—COMMENCEMENT OF THE OLD MAN’S HISTORY