A splinter.
1826. The sword-fish’s sword was much slivered in passing through [the vessel’s keel.]… The circumference was 81/2 inches, some slivers being lost.—Mass. Spy, Aug. 30: from a Sag Harbor paper.
1845. Where he was assaulted, are evidences of broken slivers from the rails on the fence.—Nauvoo Neighbor, June 25.
1850. She [Jenny Lind] does n’t ‘shake’ like a windy sliver on a chesnut-rail of a ‘Virginia fence’ in the country; she sings, in her natural, God-given, matchless voice.—Knick. Mag., xxxvi. 380 (Oct.).
1853. Mat., just light that pine sliver in the fire-place, and hand it to me.—Id., xli. 502 (June).
1856. Your shot struck me on the collar-bone and slivered it as if it had been paper.—Id., xlviii. 135 (Aug.).
1875. A snag that would snatch the keelson out of this steamboat as neatly as if it were a sliver in your hand.—Mark Twain, ‘Old Times on the Mississippi,’ Atlantic Monthly, xxxv. p. 286/1 (March).
1890. I hadn’t one thing to get dinner with, nor even a sliver of dry wood.—Mrs. Custer, ‘Following the Guidon,’ p. 295 (N.Y.).
