may be pointed out that its origin in England is confessedly obscure.
Prior to the second half of the 16th century, there was little trace
of that flood of unorthodox speech which, in this year of grace
eighteen hundred and ninety-six, requires six quarto double-columned
volumes duly to chronicle--verily a vast and motley crowd!

As to the distinction to be drawn between Cant and Slang it is
somewhat difficult to speak. Cant we know; its limits and place in the
world of philology are well defined. In Slang, however, we have a
veritable Proteus, ever shifting, and for the most part defying exact
definition and orderly derivation. Few, save scholars and such-like
folk, even distinguish between the two, though the line of demarcation
is sharply enough defined.

In the first place, Slang is universal, whilst Cant is restricted in
usage to certain classes of the community: thieves, vagrom men, and--
well, their associates. One thing, indeed, both have in common; each
are derived from a correct normal use of language. There, however, all
similarity ends.

Slang boasts a quasi-respectability denied to Cant, though Cant is
frequently more enduring, its use continuing without variation of
meaning for many generations. With Slang this is the exception;
present in force to-day, it is either altogether forgotten to-morrow,
or has shaded off into some new meaning--a creation of chance and
circumstance. Both Cant and Slang, but Slang to a more determinate
degree, are mirrors in which those who look may see reflected a
picture of the age, with its failings, foibles, and idiosyncrasies.
They reflect the social life of the people, the mirror rarely being
held to truth so faithfully--hence the present interest, and may be