third person who was called in to aid in completing the transfer of property in certain cases. The donor handed to him a symbolic staff which he in due season handed over in solemn form to the donee. If we may trust M. Dareste, and take our information at second hand, a copious source of error, it would look as if a similar use of a third person was known to the Egyptians and other early peoples. But what is certain is that we see the same form used down to modern times in England for the transfer of copyhold. I dare say that many of you were puzzled, as I was when I was a law student, at the strange handing over of a staff to the lord or steward of the manor as a first step toward conveying copyhold land to somebody else. It really is nothing but a survival of the old form of the Salic law, as M. Vinogradoff at last has noticed, in his work on Villainage in England. There you have the Salic device in its original shape. But it is the transformations which it has undergone to which I wish to call your attention. The surrender to the steward is expressed to be to the use of the purchaser or donee. Now, although Mr. Kenelm Digby in his History of the Law of Real Property warns us that this has nothing to do with the doctrine of uses, I venture to think that, helped by the work of learned Germans as to the development of the saleman on the continent, I have shown heretofore that the saleman became in England the better known feoffee to uses, and thus that the connection between him and the steward of the manor when he receives the surrender of a copyhold is clear. But the executor originally was nothing but a feoffee to uses. The heir was the man who paid his ancestor's debts and took his property. The executor did not step into the heir's shoes, and come fully to represent the person of the testator as to personal property and liabilities until after Bracton wrote his great treatise on the laws of England. Surely a flower is not more unlike a leaf, or a segment of a skull more unlike a vertebra, than the executor as we know him is remote from his prototype, the saleman of the Salic law. I confess that such a development as that fills me with interest, not only for itself, but as an illustration of what you see all through the law—the paucity of original ideas in man, and the slow, coasting way in which he works along from rudimentary beginnings to the complex and artificial conceptions of civilized life. It is like the niggardly uninventiveness of nature in its other manifestations, with its few smells or colors or types, its short list of elements, working along in the same slow way from compound to compound until the dramatic impressiveness of the most intricate
