THE CASTLE BY THE SEA.

THE CASTLE BY THE SEA.FROM UHLAND.And didst thou see that castle,That castle by the sea?The rosy-tinctured cloudletsFloat o'er it bright and free.'Twould be bending down its shadowsInto the crystal deep,—In the sunset's rays all glowing'Twould tower with haughty sweep."Ay, wot ye well, I saw it—That castle by the sea,And the pale moon standing o'er it,And mists hung on its lee."The wind and ocean's rolling,Was their voice fresh and strong?Came from its halls the echoesOf lute and festal song?"The winds, the waves around itIn sullen stillness slept,Forth came a song of wailing,—I heard it, and I wept."The king and his proud ladye,Were they pacing that high hall,With crowns of gold, and girdedIn purple and in pall?And led they not exultingA maid of rarest mould,Bright as the sun, and beamingIn tresses all of gold?"I saw that king and ladye—The crown gemmed not their hair,Dark mourning weeds were on them—The maid I saw not there."E.N.

FROM UHLAND.

And didst thou see that castle,That castle by the sea?The rosy-tinctured cloudletsFloat o'er it bright and free.'Twould be bending down its shadowsInto the crystal deep,—In the sunset's rays all glowing'Twould tower with haughty sweep."Ay, wot ye well, I saw it—That castle by the sea,And the pale moon standing o'er it,And mists hung on its lee."The wind and ocean's rolling,Was their voice fresh and strong?Came from its halls the echoesOf lute and festal song?"The winds, the waves around itIn sullen stillness slept,Forth came a song of wailing,—I heard it, and I wept."The king and his proud ladye,Were they pacing that high hall,With crowns of gold, and girdedIn purple and in pall?And led they not exultingA maid of rarest mould,Bright as the sun, and beamingIn tresses all of gold?"I saw that king and ladye—The crown gemmed not their hair,Dark mourning weeds were on them—The maid I saw not there."

And didst thou see that castle,That castle by the sea?The rosy-tinctured cloudletsFloat o'er it bright and free.'Twould be bending down its shadowsInto the crystal deep,—In the sunset's rays all glowing'Twould tower with haughty sweep."Ay, wot ye well, I saw it—That castle by the sea,And the pale moon standing o'er it,And mists hung on its lee."The wind and ocean's rolling,Was their voice fresh and strong?Came from its halls the echoesOf lute and festal song?"The winds, the waves around itIn sullen stillness slept,Forth came a song of wailing,—I heard it, and I wept."The king and his proud ladye,Were they pacing that high hall,With crowns of gold, and girdedIn purple and in pall?And led they not exultingA maid of rarest mould,Bright as the sun, and beamingIn tresses all of gold?"I saw that king and ladye—The crown gemmed not their hair,Dark mourning weeds were on them—The maid I saw not there."

And didst thou see that castle,That castle by the sea?The rosy-tinctured cloudletsFloat o'er it bright and free.

And didst thou see that castle,

That castle by the sea?

The rosy-tinctured cloudlets

Float o'er it bright and free.

'Twould be bending down its shadowsInto the crystal deep,—In the sunset's rays all glowing'Twould tower with haughty sweep.

'Twould be bending down its shadows

Into the crystal deep,—

In the sunset's rays all glowing

'Twould tower with haughty sweep.

"Ay, wot ye well, I saw it—That castle by the sea,And the pale moon standing o'er it,And mists hung on its lee."

"Ay, wot ye well, I saw it—

That castle by the sea,

And the pale moon standing o'er it,

And mists hung on its lee."

The wind and ocean's rolling,Was their voice fresh and strong?Came from its halls the echoesOf lute and festal song?

The wind and ocean's rolling,

Was their voice fresh and strong?

Came from its halls the echoes

Of lute and festal song?

"The winds, the waves around itIn sullen stillness slept,Forth came a song of wailing,—I heard it, and I wept."

"The winds, the waves around it

In sullen stillness slept,

Forth came a song of wailing,—

I heard it, and I wept."

The king and his proud ladye,Were they pacing that high hall,With crowns of gold, and girdedIn purple and in pall?

The king and his proud ladye,

Were they pacing that high hall,

With crowns of gold, and girded

In purple and in pall?

And led they not exultingA maid of rarest mould,Bright as the sun, and beamingIn tresses all of gold?

And led they not exulting

A maid of rarest mould,

Bright as the sun, and beaming

In tresses all of gold?

"I saw that king and ladye—The crown gemmed not their hair,Dark mourning weeds were on them—The maid I saw not there."

"I saw that king and ladye—

The crown gemmed not their hair,

Dark mourning weeds were on them—

The maid I saw not there."

E.N.

LEGISLATIVE NOMENCLATURE.AMONGST THE MOTLEY CHARACTERS AND COMBINATIONS IN THE NEW HOUSE OF COMMONS MAY BE FOUNDADuke, anErle, aBannerman,ABarron, and aKnight;ANorthlandLord, aDenison,WithMannersmost polite.AKirkandChaplinstill remain,Tho' the House has lost itsClerk;But aParrott's there to say amen,And aFoxandWoulfeto bark!SaintAndrew, holy man, is gone,WhoKnightley,Neeld, andPraed,[42]AHaytor[43]of the poor man's joy,And SundayBakertrade.ALeader, and aCrewewithSpiers,Conspire againstA'Court;ButDickdeclares, andDarbyswears,No-elis meant norHurt.They've huntedRoebuckfrom his hold,AndBuck-ingham andBruen;But aSheppardstays to guard the fold,And save the flock from ruin!There'sCow-per,Bull-ers, and Knatch-bull,WithLamb-ton,Hinde, andHogg;A brace ofMartins,Finch, andHawkes,AndPuseyin aBagge!There'sMoles-worth,Duck-worth,Cod-rington,ThreeRochesand aSeale;ARose, aPlumptre, and aReid,WithHawesandLemon Peel.ABold-ero, withMuskettarmed,Goes thro' theWoodstoChute;[44]He fires someRounds, and then brings downAHeronandWilde Coote!Great Dan, with his smoothWinning-ton,Contrives hisPoyntztoWynn;For his suppletailhas stronger grown,Tho', alas! he's lost hisFinn!TwoBailliesand an IrishMaher,[45]AndBurroughes,Power, aBewes;[46]Two ToryWoods, aForester,WithHastie,Vigor,Hughes![47]ACave, aLoch, aHill, aFort,ADivett, and aTrench;AFlemingand aBruges,Guest,WithHolland,FolkesandFfrench.AHob-house,Wode-house,Powers-court,TwoEst-courtsand aHall;TheHutt, alas! they've undermined,And left aBlack-stone,Wall!AMarshall-Law, withPower,C. Vere,[48]AndFoleyandStrange-ways;ThreePalmerson a pilgrimage,AGallyin aHayes![49]Tho'NorthandWestare both displaced,AnEast-hopehas been gained;WhileEast-nor,EastandWest-enra,Their stations have maintain'd!Camp-bellswe have, and DurhamBowes,[50]With one NorthumbrianBell;FromStirlingshirethey've sentFor-bes,[51]ToLisburnforMey-nell![52]Tho'Beau-clerkandBeau-montare gone,We'veFellowes,HaleandYoung,InStyleto carry on theBall,And dash andStruttaLong.AHorsmanwithFre-mantletrotsTwoMilestoWynnaPryse;TwoWalkers,Pryme, the distance run,More confident thanWyse.AChapmanwith hisPackeandPrice,APotterwith hisClay;AFresh-field,Baring,Pease, andRice,A thrivingField-en Hay.ACarter,Coopers,Turners,Smiths,ACollierwith hisColes;AMaster-Cartwrightwith hisMaule,ABolling-GreenandBowles.ABlack-burn,Blew-itt, andBrown-rigge,AndBlack-ett,White, andGrey;With doubleScarlett,Orange-Peel,AndBrownandGreen-away.There'sCrawford,Wood, andPattison,AndBaringspassingRich;WithMoney-pennyand aGrote,AndGrimstonandGrimsditch.There'sRum-bold,Tancred, andPhill-potts,AButlerfrom Kilkenny;AHeath-coat,Thorn-hill, andBroad-wood,WithMild-mayandMa-hony.ABodkin,Sharpe, KentHodges,Blunt,AMillerand aBaker;With sinners, saints, and Methodists,Socinians, and aQuaker!Staunch Papists, Presbyterians,And Churchmen great and small;WithMathew,Mark, andLuke, andJohn,OldAdamandSt. Paul!G.W.

AMONGST THE MOTLEY CHARACTERS AND COMBINATIONS IN THE NEW HOUSE OF COMMONS MAY BE FOUND

ADuke, anErle, aBannerman,ABarron, and aKnight;ANorthlandLord, aDenison,WithMannersmost polite.AKirkandChaplinstill remain,Tho' the House has lost itsClerk;But aParrott's there to say amen,And aFoxandWoulfeto bark!SaintAndrew, holy man, is gone,WhoKnightley,Neeld, andPraed,[42]AHaytor[43]of the poor man's joy,And SundayBakertrade.ALeader, and aCrewewithSpiers,Conspire againstA'Court;ButDickdeclares, andDarbyswears,No-elis meant norHurt.They've huntedRoebuckfrom his hold,AndBuck-ingham andBruen;But aSheppardstays to guard the fold,And save the flock from ruin!There'sCow-per,Bull-ers, and Knatch-bull,WithLamb-ton,Hinde, andHogg;A brace ofMartins,Finch, andHawkes,AndPuseyin aBagge!There'sMoles-worth,Duck-worth,Cod-rington,ThreeRochesand aSeale;ARose, aPlumptre, and aReid,WithHawesandLemon Peel.ABold-ero, withMuskettarmed,Goes thro' theWoodstoChute;[44]He fires someRounds, and then brings downAHeronandWilde Coote!Great Dan, with his smoothWinning-ton,Contrives hisPoyntztoWynn;For his suppletailhas stronger grown,Tho', alas! he's lost hisFinn!TwoBailliesand an IrishMaher,[45]AndBurroughes,Power, aBewes;[46]Two ToryWoods, aForester,WithHastie,Vigor,Hughes![47]ACave, aLoch, aHill, aFort,ADivett, and aTrench;AFlemingand aBruges,Guest,WithHolland,FolkesandFfrench.AHob-house,Wode-house,Powers-court,TwoEst-courtsand aHall;TheHutt, alas! they've undermined,And left aBlack-stone,Wall!

ADuke, anErle, aBannerman,ABarron, and aKnight;ANorthlandLord, aDenison,WithMannersmost polite.AKirkandChaplinstill remain,Tho' the House has lost itsClerk;But aParrott's there to say amen,And aFoxandWoulfeto bark!SaintAndrew, holy man, is gone,WhoKnightley,Neeld, andPraed,[42]AHaytor[43]of the poor man's joy,And SundayBakertrade.ALeader, and aCrewewithSpiers,Conspire againstA'Court;ButDickdeclares, andDarbyswears,No-elis meant norHurt.They've huntedRoebuckfrom his hold,AndBuck-ingham andBruen;But aSheppardstays to guard the fold,And save the flock from ruin!There'sCow-per,Bull-ers, and Knatch-bull,WithLamb-ton,Hinde, andHogg;A brace ofMartins,Finch, andHawkes,AndPuseyin aBagge!There'sMoles-worth,Duck-worth,Cod-rington,ThreeRochesand aSeale;ARose, aPlumptre, and aReid,WithHawesandLemon Peel.ABold-ero, withMuskettarmed,Goes thro' theWoodstoChute;[44]He fires someRounds, and then brings downAHeronandWilde Coote!Great Dan, with his smoothWinning-ton,Contrives hisPoyntztoWynn;For his suppletailhas stronger grown,Tho', alas! he's lost hisFinn!TwoBailliesand an IrishMaher,[45]AndBurroughes,Power, aBewes;[46]Two ToryWoods, aForester,WithHastie,Vigor,Hughes![47]ACave, aLoch, aHill, aFort,ADivett, and aTrench;AFlemingand aBruges,Guest,WithHolland,FolkesandFfrench.AHob-house,Wode-house,Powers-court,TwoEst-courtsand aHall;TheHutt, alas! they've undermined,And left aBlack-stone,Wall!

ADuke, anErle, aBannerman,ABarron, and aKnight;ANorthlandLord, aDenison,WithMannersmost polite.

ADuke, anErle, aBannerman,

ABarron, and aKnight;

ANorthlandLord, aDenison,

WithMannersmost polite.

AKirkandChaplinstill remain,Tho' the House has lost itsClerk;But aParrott's there to say amen,And aFoxandWoulfeto bark!

AKirkandChaplinstill remain,

Tho' the House has lost itsClerk;

But aParrott's there to say amen,

And aFoxandWoulfeto bark!

SaintAndrew, holy man, is gone,WhoKnightley,Neeld, andPraed,[42]AHaytor[43]of the poor man's joy,And SundayBakertrade.

SaintAndrew, holy man, is gone,

WhoKnightley,Neeld, andPraed,[42]

AHaytor[43]of the poor man's joy,

And SundayBakertrade.

ALeader, and aCrewewithSpiers,Conspire againstA'Court;ButDickdeclares, andDarbyswears,No-elis meant norHurt.

ALeader, and aCrewewithSpiers,

Conspire againstA'Court;

ButDickdeclares, andDarbyswears,

No-elis meant norHurt.

They've huntedRoebuckfrom his hold,AndBuck-ingham andBruen;But aSheppardstays to guard the fold,And save the flock from ruin!

They've huntedRoebuckfrom his hold,

AndBuck-ingham andBruen;

But aSheppardstays to guard the fold,

And save the flock from ruin!

There'sCow-per,Bull-ers, and Knatch-bull,WithLamb-ton,Hinde, andHogg;A brace ofMartins,Finch, andHawkes,AndPuseyin aBagge!

There'sCow-per,Bull-ers, and Knatch-bull,

WithLamb-ton,Hinde, andHogg;

A brace ofMartins,Finch, andHawkes,

AndPuseyin aBagge!

There'sMoles-worth,Duck-worth,Cod-rington,ThreeRochesand aSeale;ARose, aPlumptre, and aReid,WithHawesandLemon Peel.

There'sMoles-worth,Duck-worth,Cod-rington,

ThreeRochesand aSeale;

ARose, aPlumptre, and aReid,

WithHawesandLemon Peel.

ABold-ero, withMuskettarmed,Goes thro' theWoodstoChute;[44]He fires someRounds, and then brings downAHeronandWilde Coote!

ABold-ero, withMuskettarmed,

Goes thro' theWoodstoChute;[44]

He fires someRounds, and then brings down

AHeronandWilde Coote!

Great Dan, with his smoothWinning-ton,Contrives hisPoyntztoWynn;For his suppletailhas stronger grown,Tho', alas! he's lost hisFinn!

Great Dan, with his smoothWinning-ton,

Contrives hisPoyntztoWynn;

For his suppletailhas stronger grown,

Tho', alas! he's lost hisFinn!

TwoBailliesand an IrishMaher,[45]AndBurroughes,Power, aBewes;[46]Two ToryWoods, aForester,WithHastie,Vigor,Hughes![47]

TwoBailliesand an IrishMaher,[45]

AndBurroughes,Power, aBewes;[46]

Two ToryWoods, aForester,

WithHastie,Vigor,Hughes![47]

ACave, aLoch, aHill, aFort,ADivett, and aTrench;AFlemingand aBruges,Guest,WithHolland,FolkesandFfrench.

ACave, aLoch, aHill, aFort,

ADivett, and aTrench;

AFlemingand aBruges,Guest,

WithHolland,FolkesandFfrench.

AHob-house,Wode-house,Powers-court,TwoEst-courtsand aHall;TheHutt, alas! they've undermined,And left aBlack-stone,Wall!

AHob-house,Wode-house,Powers-court,

TwoEst-courtsand aHall;

TheHutt, alas! they've undermined,

And left aBlack-stone,Wall!

AMarshall-Law, withPower,C. Vere,[48]AndFoleyandStrange-ways;ThreePalmerson a pilgrimage,AGallyin aHayes![49]Tho'NorthandWestare both displaced,AnEast-hopehas been gained;WhileEast-nor,EastandWest-enra,Their stations have maintain'd!Camp-bellswe have, and DurhamBowes,[50]With one NorthumbrianBell;FromStirlingshirethey've sentFor-bes,[51]ToLisburnforMey-nell![52]Tho'Beau-clerkandBeau-montare gone,We'veFellowes,HaleandYoung,InStyleto carry on theBall,And dash andStruttaLong.AHorsmanwithFre-mantletrotsTwoMilestoWynnaPryse;TwoWalkers,Pryme, the distance run,More confident thanWyse.AChapmanwith hisPackeandPrice,APotterwith hisClay;AFresh-field,Baring,Pease, andRice,A thrivingField-en Hay.ACarter,Coopers,Turners,Smiths,ACollierwith hisColes;AMaster-Cartwrightwith hisMaule,ABolling-GreenandBowles.ABlack-burn,Blew-itt, andBrown-rigge,AndBlack-ett,White, andGrey;With doubleScarlett,Orange-Peel,AndBrownandGreen-away.There'sCrawford,Wood, andPattison,AndBaringspassingRich;WithMoney-pennyand aGrote,AndGrimstonandGrimsditch.There'sRum-bold,Tancred, andPhill-potts,AButlerfrom Kilkenny;AHeath-coat,Thorn-hill, andBroad-wood,WithMild-mayandMa-hony.ABodkin,Sharpe, KentHodges,Blunt,AMillerand aBaker;With sinners, saints, and Methodists,Socinians, and aQuaker!Staunch Papists, Presbyterians,And Churchmen great and small;WithMathew,Mark, andLuke, andJohn,OldAdamandSt. Paul!

AMarshall-Law, withPower,C. Vere,[48]AndFoleyandStrange-ways;ThreePalmerson a pilgrimage,AGallyin aHayes![49]Tho'NorthandWestare both displaced,AnEast-hopehas been gained;WhileEast-nor,EastandWest-enra,Their stations have maintain'd!Camp-bellswe have, and DurhamBowes,[50]With one NorthumbrianBell;FromStirlingshirethey've sentFor-bes,[51]ToLisburnforMey-nell![52]Tho'Beau-clerkandBeau-montare gone,We'veFellowes,HaleandYoung,InStyleto carry on theBall,And dash andStruttaLong.AHorsmanwithFre-mantletrotsTwoMilestoWynnaPryse;TwoWalkers,Pryme, the distance run,More confident thanWyse.AChapmanwith hisPackeandPrice,APotterwith hisClay;AFresh-field,Baring,Pease, andRice,A thrivingField-en Hay.ACarter,Coopers,Turners,Smiths,ACollierwith hisColes;AMaster-Cartwrightwith hisMaule,ABolling-GreenandBowles.ABlack-burn,Blew-itt, andBrown-rigge,AndBlack-ett,White, andGrey;With doubleScarlett,Orange-Peel,AndBrownandGreen-away.There'sCrawford,Wood, andPattison,AndBaringspassingRich;WithMoney-pennyand aGrote,AndGrimstonandGrimsditch.There'sRum-bold,Tancred, andPhill-potts,AButlerfrom Kilkenny;AHeath-coat,Thorn-hill, andBroad-wood,WithMild-mayandMa-hony.ABodkin,Sharpe, KentHodges,Blunt,AMillerand aBaker;With sinners, saints, and Methodists,Socinians, and aQuaker!Staunch Papists, Presbyterians,And Churchmen great and small;WithMathew,Mark, andLuke, andJohn,OldAdamandSt. Paul!

AMarshall-Law, withPower,C. Vere,[48]AndFoleyandStrange-ways;ThreePalmerson a pilgrimage,AGallyin aHayes![49]

AMarshall-Law, withPower,C. Vere,[48]

AndFoleyandStrange-ways;

ThreePalmerson a pilgrimage,

AGallyin aHayes![49]

Tho'NorthandWestare both displaced,AnEast-hopehas been gained;WhileEast-nor,EastandWest-enra,Their stations have maintain'd!

Tho'NorthandWestare both displaced,

AnEast-hopehas been gained;

WhileEast-nor,EastandWest-enra,

Their stations have maintain'd!

Camp-bellswe have, and DurhamBowes,[50]With one NorthumbrianBell;FromStirlingshirethey've sentFor-bes,[51]ToLisburnforMey-nell![52]

Camp-bellswe have, and DurhamBowes,[50]

With one NorthumbrianBell;

FromStirlingshirethey've sentFor-bes,[51]

ToLisburnforMey-nell![52]

Tho'Beau-clerkandBeau-montare gone,We'veFellowes,HaleandYoung,InStyleto carry on theBall,And dash andStruttaLong.

Tho'Beau-clerkandBeau-montare gone,

We'veFellowes,HaleandYoung,

InStyleto carry on theBall,

And dash andStruttaLong.

AHorsmanwithFre-mantletrotsTwoMilestoWynnaPryse;TwoWalkers,Pryme, the distance run,More confident thanWyse.

AHorsmanwithFre-mantletrots

TwoMilestoWynnaPryse;

TwoWalkers,Pryme, the distance run,

More confident thanWyse.

AChapmanwith hisPackeandPrice,APotterwith hisClay;AFresh-field,Baring,Pease, andRice,A thrivingField-en Hay.

AChapmanwith hisPackeandPrice,

APotterwith hisClay;

AFresh-field,Baring,Pease, andRice,

A thrivingField-en Hay.

ACarter,Coopers,Turners,Smiths,ACollierwith hisColes;AMaster-Cartwrightwith hisMaule,ABolling-GreenandBowles.

ACarter,Coopers,Turners,Smiths,

ACollierwith hisColes;

AMaster-Cartwrightwith hisMaule,

ABolling-GreenandBowles.

ABlack-burn,Blew-itt, andBrown-rigge,AndBlack-ett,White, andGrey;With doubleScarlett,Orange-Peel,AndBrownandGreen-away.

ABlack-burn,Blew-itt, andBrown-rigge,

AndBlack-ett,White, andGrey;

With doubleScarlett,Orange-Peel,

AndBrownandGreen-away.

There'sCrawford,Wood, andPattison,AndBaringspassingRich;WithMoney-pennyand aGrote,AndGrimstonandGrimsditch.

There'sCrawford,Wood, andPattison,

AndBaringspassingRich;

WithMoney-pennyand aGrote,

AndGrimstonandGrimsditch.

There'sRum-bold,Tancred, andPhill-potts,AButlerfrom Kilkenny;AHeath-coat,Thorn-hill, andBroad-wood,WithMild-mayandMa-hony.

There'sRum-bold,Tancred, andPhill-potts,

AButlerfrom Kilkenny;

AHeath-coat,Thorn-hill, andBroad-wood,

WithMild-mayandMa-hony.

ABodkin,Sharpe, KentHodges,Blunt,AMillerand aBaker;With sinners, saints, and Methodists,Socinians, and aQuaker!

ABodkin,Sharpe, KentHodges,Blunt,

AMillerand aBaker;

With sinners, saints, and Methodists,

Socinians, and aQuaker!

Staunch Papists, Presbyterians,And Churchmen great and small;WithMathew,Mark, andLuke, andJohn,OldAdamandSt. Paul!

Staunch Papists, Presbyterians,

And Churchmen great and small;

WithMathew,Mark, andLuke, andJohn,

OldAdamandSt. Paul!

G.W.

NOBILITY IN DISGUISE.BY DUDLEY COSTELLO."They name ye before me,A knell to mine ear;A shudder comes o'er me.——"Byron.One of the evils of an increasing population is the difficulty of finding names for all the new-comers. As long as the census remained proportionate to the superficies of the country, and every man could entrench himself within the walls of his own domicile, or isolate himself between his own hedges, the principle of individuality continued unassailed; but when, from a thousand causes, the population became doubled, almost within our recollection, and men were forced to herd together, gregarious by compulsion, we felt that a blow had been struck at personal identity which it would require the utmost ingenuity to parry.Amongst the many responsibilities entailed upon parents, not the least, in these prolific times, is that of providing their offspring with names which shall carry them safely through the wear and tear of after-life without encroaching upon the privileges, or sharing in the disgraces, of others. The man, for instance, whohappensto bear thenot-impossiblename of Smith, and who chooses to christen his son by the not-uncommon one of John, commits an error as fatal as can well be imagined. At school that son is buffeted by mistake, and birched by accident, for the broken windows and invaded orchards: the acts of another John Smith. As he advances towards man's estate, his good reputation is stolen, and a bad one substituted, by the graceless conduct of a namesake. He is dunned for debts he never contracted, rendered liable for hearts he never broke, and imprisoned for assaults he never committed. He is superseded in the affections of his mistress by another John Smith, disinherited on his account, and when he dies—for even Smiths must die—no tear is shed to his memory, no record commemorates his decease; like the pebble which is cast into the ocean, a little circle just marks the spot for a moment, and the waves of oblivion roll over it for ever!The same melancholy fate haply attends the possessors of the names of Green, Brown, Jones, Robinson, Thompson, and others no less familiar. The destiny of one becomes involved in the general lot of all; the multitude can no more distinguish between them than they can separate one sheep from a flock, or one bee from a swarm. The hand of fate is on the unhappy crowd,—"they are the victims of its iron rule;" and victimised to a certainty they would have remained, had not a boldly-conceiving individual invented a mode of particularising that which was general, severing the with which bound them in one universal faggot. It was effected in this wise. He considered the name he bore—one of those already alluded to—as being only the type ofman; and, spurning at the imbecility or indifference of a godfather, who had thus neutralised his existence at the very outset, he resolved to intercalate certain high-sounding appellations, which of themselves would attract sufficient attention, but, when combined with his own futile denomination, would be sure to strike,from the absurdity of the contrast, or singularity of the juxta-position. Thomas Brown was a name as insignificant as parents or sponsors could make it; but when, in the course of time, it swelled itself into Thomas Claudius Fitzwilliam Carnaby Browne, it was impossible to pass it unregarded. The feat once accomplished, like the broken egg of Columbus, it became of easy performance; and few were the Thompsons, few the Simpsons, and fewer still the Johnsons, who did not claim "the benefit of the act."A prospective advantage was included also in their calculations. As time wore away, the obnoxious Thomas or John was silently dropped; and then, by a daringcoup-de-maître, the plebeian sur-name, which had been gradually contracting its powers, was altogether sunk, and the grub became a butterfly of most aristocratic pretensions. This is no vain theory founded on chance occurrences, but a truth which every one will recognise who runs over the list of his acquaintance, or examines the visiting-cards on his mantel-piece. It is as impossible now-a-days to meet with a man content to bear the opprobrium of a single monosyllabic name, as to raise money without security, or induce any one to avoid politics in conversation. The ancient prejudice against the "homo trium literarum" is now wholly removed; and we verily believe that Cavendish Mortimer Pierrepoint, an acknowledged scion of the swell-mob, would find more favour in the eyes of society than plain Benjamin Bunks, a well-known respectable hosier or linendraper, if a question of right were at issue between them.There are two classes of persons who build up to themselves an altar of vain-glory founded on names of self-assumption. The first are those who, being cast originally in the basest metal, add the pinchbeck of quality to enhance the value of the original plebeian pewter; the second, of "dull and meagre lead," who thereunto conjoin the glare of brass or gloom of iron by the adoption of double names of equal dissonance. Examples are rife everywhere. Mr. and Mrs. Vokins, while their fortune was yet to make, were happy and content "as such;" but, the carriage once set up, the armsfound, and the visiting-cards printed, her friends are awake to the pleasing consciousness that "Mrs. Ferdinand Vokins" is "at home" every alternate Wednesday during the season.Mr. Mudge was a plain, simple Glo'stershire squire, shooting partridges on the paternal acres, and called "Young Mr. Mudge," as manhood and whiskers expanded on his native soil. He comes to town, sees the world, and discovers, for the first time, despite the importance which inflates him, that he is nameless. He accordingly borrows from the French, and is straightway transformed into "the interesting Mr. Montmorency Mudge, who plays so divinely on the flute," though his very existence had been a question but a few brief hours before.The Badgers, though proud of course of their nameas a family name, have daughters to marry, and sons to provide for: it is of no use to be good unless one appears so; and therefore Mrs.HowardBadger's suppers are the best in town, while Mr. Howard Badger is received with smiles at the Treasury.Plain Boss would have succeeded nowhere, except, perhaps, on a street-door; but Felix Orlando Boss may enter the gayest drawing-room in Christendom, announced by files of intonating footmen.We are invited to dine, and seek to ascertain the profit and loss of the invitation by inquiries of a fellowconviveas to the guests who will be there: he isl'ami de la maison, and, to give due emphasis to the description, and honour to the Amphitryon, he thus enumerates them. "Oh, you'll have the Mortimer Bullwinkles, Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Cutbush, the Stafford Priddys, Sir Montague Stumps, Mr. Temple Sniggers, the Beauchamp Horrockses, and Mrs. Courtenay Cocking; nobody else, that I remember." "Won't the Wartons be there?" "I don't know,—who are they?—I never heard of them:—what's theirothername?"And so it is: this "other name,"—thisalter ego—becomes the grand desideratum in description,—the passport to fashion and celebrity.The anonymous in authorship is no longer regarded, save in the instance of those veterans in literature whose silence is more significant than the loud-tongued voices of a million aspirants. We need no sign-post to show us the way to London, neither do we seek a name to anticipate their page. But the new candidates for fame are of a different order. The title-page of a work is in their estimation a maiden shield whereon it is their privilege to quarter the names of all their lineage, concentrated in themselves, or pompously appealed to in the names of others. Hence we have, "Rambles in Russia, by Charles Valentine Mowbray Muggins;" "Thoughts on the Poor-Laws, by Pygmalion Gammage;" "The Exile; a poem, by Brownlow Busfield, of the Middle Temple, Barrister-at-Law;" "Desperation; a novel, by Grenville Grindle, Esq.;" "The Veil Withdrawn, or, A Peep behind the Curtain, by the Nieces of the Hon. and Rev. Fitzherbert Fineclark;" and "Domestic Tyranny, or, The Stony-hearted Step-father, by Lavinia Cecilia Bottomley, only child of the late Captain Roderick Bottomley, of the Bombay Cavalry."It is no longer our cue to be rendered "illustrious by courtesy;" we compel the admiration which the niggard world so carefully withholds, and extort the approbation it would smother. It matters little how raw, how shapeless, how crude, how undigested be the mass when drawn from the quarry of its creation; its uncouth aspect and angular deformity offer no impediment to the lapidary's skill, but rather enhance its value; and the more barbarous the name which ignorant parents have transmitted, the wider is the scope afforded to their descendants for rendering the adjunct more brilliant by the contrast.He who is born Buggins, and changeth not, perisheth unregarded; his name appears in the Newgate Calendar, and whatever his fate, it is deemed a just one. But he who (though equally degraded in the annals of nomenclature by the repulsive or sneaking appellations of Jaggers, Blatcher, Gullock, or Lumkin,) adds to his patronymic the soft seduction or romantic interest of Albert, Eustace, Stanley, or Fitzmaurice, may appeal to the lord in waiting, or a patroness at Almack's, and kiss the hand of royalty, or bow at the shrine of beauty.The motto is old and true, which many "gentlemen of coat-armour" do bear, that "Fortune favours the bold;" the daring speculators in the names of others are eminently successful in their adventure after greatness. To this category belong the sheriffs and aldermen, the bearers of addresses, and the deputed of corporations;these are they who may literally be said to have greatness "thrust upon them."The Mayor of Norwich, hight Timothy Gamblebuck, urged by the ambitious spiritings of Mrs. G., kneels at his sovereign's feet, and, rewarded by an accolade, returns, in the triumph of knighthood and plenitude of loyalty, "Sir Timotheus Guelph Gamblebuck" bymorethan royal permission.Mr. Sheriff Hole, presented by a peer, and similarly honoured by the king, marks his sense of his patron's kindness by the insertion of his title before the cavernous epithet, and figures at urban festivals as Sir John Cornwallis Hole, the most aristocratic on the shrieval archives.Sir Marmaduke Fuggles, Sir Cholmondeley Bilke, Sir Constantine Peregrine Rumball, Sir Temple Gostick, and Sir Peter Sackville Biles, are amongst the many whom female instigation or personal desire have led to illustrate the glory of ancient houses. It is somewhere said in "Pelham" that one's unknown neighbour, or opposite at dinner, must necessarily be a baronet and Sir John; it is no less true that at the corner of every street, in the avenues of every ballroom, a newly created knight lies in waiting to devour one. A man with a bright blue coat, and, if possible, brighter buttons, with black satin waistcoat andverygold chain, with large hands and a face of red portent, cuts in with us at whist; his antagonists are perpetually appealing to him by his brilliant title. "It is your deal, Sir Vavasour,"—"My ace, Sir Vavasour,"—"Sir Vavasour, two doubles and the rub;"—till, bewildered by the glories of our feudal partner, we lose the game, and stealthily inquire of some one near, "Whoisthe gentleman opposite?" "Sir Vavasour Clapshaw" is the whispered reply, recalling the name of one much respected in our youthful days,—a celebrated artist in the cricket-bat line, who has now pitched his wicket within the precincts of aristocracy, and bowls down society with the grandeur of hispréfixe.A lady in crimson velvet, with a bird of paradise in her blue and silver "turband," and a marabout boa wreathed round her neck, with long white gloves tightened unto bursting, and serpentine chains clinging unto suffocation, is seated in lofty pride at theupperend of theprincipalsaloon, and overwhelms by the dignity of her demeanour all who come within the vortex of her "full-blown suffisance.""Lady—what did you say? Harcourt, or Harewood,—which?—I didn't distinctly hear." "Yes, Lady Harcourt." "Why, I thought she was dead." "Oh, yes, theCountessis dead; but this is Lady Harcourt Bumsted: that's her husband, Sir Julius,—he was knighted last Wednesday.""There's honour for you!—grinning honour," as Falstaff has it.Notabilities like these are nearly as illustrious as the surreptitious knights and dames who, by dint of surpassing impudence, pass current for as good as they. Both classes remind us of the gypsy-herald "Rouge-Sanglier," whose colours were as bright, and trappings as gay, as those of the legitimate "Toison d'Or:" they have but one fault; like him, their blazon is false, their arms are wrongly "tricked," metal overlays metal, gold covers brass, and nativegulesgives way to intrusive purple. The glory of our chivalry is often awkwardly eclipsed when it happens that a Frenchman is called uponto designate the new-made knight; he treats his Christian name with as much indifference as he manifests in the spelling of his surname,—a rule he always applies to those of British growth. We know a clever, shrewd, little, antiquarian Frenchman, whom no persuasion can induce to abbreviate a single letter of reference to page, folio, edition, or date; but who, whenever he has occasion to mention a knight or baronet of his acquaintance, invariably omits hisnom de baptême?. How pleasantly it would sound to hear the announcement of "Sir Biddles," "Sir Doody," or "Sir Farwig!" and yet this would be the predicament of these worthies were they ungraced by nobleprænomina.The second class whose merits we propose to discuss are the illustrators of the "Binomial Theorem,"—the double-named families,—who, too hideous to walk alone, conjoin ugliness of equal intensity to scare and appal wherever they make their way. It is not sufficient for such as they that their name be Groutage or Gramshaw; they incontinently connect it—if they can—with "a worser," (to use the showman's phrase,) and "double-up" with Rapkin or Titterton. Thus we hear, at our morning concert, Mrs. Rapkin Gramshaw's carriage stopping the way; and a vain and desolate outcry in the Opera colonnade for the chariot of Mrs. Titterton Groutage. It would matter little if we were only doomed tohearthese names thus generally repeated; but there is a mode of administering them which makes usfeelthem, scorching and searing our inmost heart of hearts! A double name—no matter how base or dissonant—is held to be the most grateful to ears polite, as if the natural consequence of the intermarriage of two great discords must of necessity give birth to harmony.How often have we writhed under the cruel infliction, when, betrayed by bad weather during a morning call, we have sat through the tedious hour of detaining rain, and listened to the forgotten glories of the races of Slark and Cutbush! It is a rule withall people,—no matter how they may be designatednow, or how utterly their names defy the ingenuity of antiquaries to render their etymology,—to derive their ancestral honours from the time of William the Conqueror! It is true that the bastard Duke had a general letter of licence for the enlistment of all the vagabonds that swarmed in Europe at the period of his expedition; and we know how many ruffians of all classes, from the predatory baron to the pillaging freebooter, thronged to his standard,—and so far there may often be some show of reason in the pretension.But our claimants for origin among the Conqueror'snoblesseare not to be expected to dwell on this point with historical minuteness; what they wish to imply when they tell us that "the Smookers and Tites came over with the Conqueror," is, that they were equal in station to the De Albinis and De Warennes, who led their forces to the battle of Hastings, and gave the Conqueror his crown."Ours is a very old family indeed," says a thick-headed Devonshire squire, with scarcely wit enough to spell the name he bears,—"we came over with William the Conqueror: the Chubbs are a very old family; the first of the name was William the Conqueror's standard-bearer, Reginald de Chubb. Here's our coat of arms, we've got it onallour carriages,—three Chubs proper, in a field vert; the crest a hand and dagger,—becausehe saved the king's life!"We knew this man's grandfather well, "excellent well,—he was a fishmonger," and sold the chubs he boasts of!Miss Eleanor Pogson Lillicrap is a very fine young lady indeed; she discourses much on the gentility of Pa's and Ma's family, but chiefly of Ma's."The Lillicraps are very ancient,—a very old family in Sussex,—settled there long before Magna Charta; indeed, I believe they came over with the Conqueror. But the Pogsons—Ma's family—are much older,—in fact, descended directly from Alfred."And this is perfectly true;—Alfred Pogson kept a butcher's shop at Brighton, and was Miss Eleanor's grandfather!Some persons are not content with one bad name, but write and engrave it in duplicate. There are the Brown Browns, and the Jackson Jacksons, the Cooper Coopers, and the Grimes Grimeses. These families consist of many members, every one of whom is enumerated at the greatest possible length. We once saw the programme of some private theatricals to be enacted one Christmas at the Gamsons',—we beg pardon, the Gamson Gamsons'. It ran as follows,—the play being Romeo and Juliet:RomeoMr. Gamson Gamson.MercutioMr. John Gamson Gamson.BenvolioMr. Charles Peter Gamson Gamson.TybaltMr. James Timbury Gamson Gamson.CapuletMr. Philip de Walker Gamson Gamson.Friar LawrenceMr. Wellington Gamson Gamson.JulietMiss Gamson Gamson.Lady CapuletMrs. Gamson Gamson.NurseMiss Horatia Gamson Gamson.PageMiss Octavia Juliana Gamson Gamson.And, had there been more characters to fill up, there would still have been Gamson Gamsons to supply the vacuum.Double-named people abound in watering-places, and shine in subscription-lists. The Master of the Ceremonies' book faithfully announces the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Bennett Hoskins Abrahall, and Sir Joseph and Lady Moggridge Shankey. We are told in the provincial records of "fashionable movements" that Mr. Raggs Thimbleby has taken a house for the season on the New Steine at Brighton; and that Mrs. Pilcher Frisby intends to pass the winter at Cheltenham. The Poles are in distress, and require a subscription; who heads the list?—Mr. Munt Spriggins! There is to be a meeting in favour of the Spitalfields weavers; who takes the chair?—Sir Runnacles Faddy! But there would be no end to the list were we to enumerate even a tithe of those who "rush into our head." The proverb which dooms the dog to destruction that bears "an ill name" is reversed in the case of man; affix whatever inharmonious compound you please to the patronymic of a Briton, and you only add to his celebrity: and we are firmly of opinion that the time is not far distant, when, the powers of permutation being exhausted, opprobrious epithets will assume their place in the rank of names, and figure in the annals of fashion; Sir Ruffian Rascal will then walk arm-in-arm with Lord Percy Plantagenet, and the "lovely and accomplished" Miss Mortimer be led to the altar by the wealthy and fashionable Sir Swindle Bully!

BY DUDLEY COSTELLO.

"They name ye before me,A knell to mine ear;A shudder comes o'er me.——"

"They name ye before me,A knell to mine ear;A shudder comes o'er me.——"

"They name ye before me,A knell to mine ear;A shudder comes o'er me.——"

"They name ye before me,

A knell to mine ear;

A shudder comes o'er me.——"

Byron.

One of the evils of an increasing population is the difficulty of finding names for all the new-comers. As long as the census remained proportionate to the superficies of the country, and every man could entrench himself within the walls of his own domicile, or isolate himself between his own hedges, the principle of individuality continued unassailed; but when, from a thousand causes, the population became doubled, almost within our recollection, and men were forced to herd together, gregarious by compulsion, we felt that a blow had been struck at personal identity which it would require the utmost ingenuity to parry.

Amongst the many responsibilities entailed upon parents, not the least, in these prolific times, is that of providing their offspring with names which shall carry them safely through the wear and tear of after-life without encroaching upon the privileges, or sharing in the disgraces, of others. The man, for instance, whohappensto bear thenot-impossiblename of Smith, and who chooses to christen his son by the not-uncommon one of John, commits an error as fatal as can well be imagined. At school that son is buffeted by mistake, and birched by accident, for the broken windows and invaded orchards: the acts of another John Smith. As he advances towards man's estate, his good reputation is stolen, and a bad one substituted, by the graceless conduct of a namesake. He is dunned for debts he never contracted, rendered liable for hearts he never broke, and imprisoned for assaults he never committed. He is superseded in the affections of his mistress by another John Smith, disinherited on his account, and when he dies—for even Smiths must die—no tear is shed to his memory, no record commemorates his decease; like the pebble which is cast into the ocean, a little circle just marks the spot for a moment, and the waves of oblivion roll over it for ever!

The same melancholy fate haply attends the possessors of the names of Green, Brown, Jones, Robinson, Thompson, and others no less familiar. The destiny of one becomes involved in the general lot of all; the multitude can no more distinguish between them than they can separate one sheep from a flock, or one bee from a swarm. The hand of fate is on the unhappy crowd,—"they are the victims of its iron rule;" and victimised to a certainty they would have remained, had not a boldly-conceiving individual invented a mode of particularising that which was general, severing the with which bound them in one universal faggot. It was effected in this wise. He considered the name he bore—one of those already alluded to—as being only the type ofman; and, spurning at the imbecility or indifference of a godfather, who had thus neutralised his existence at the very outset, he resolved to intercalate certain high-sounding appellations, which of themselves would attract sufficient attention, but, when combined with his own futile denomination, would be sure to strike,from the absurdity of the contrast, or singularity of the juxta-position. Thomas Brown was a name as insignificant as parents or sponsors could make it; but when, in the course of time, it swelled itself into Thomas Claudius Fitzwilliam Carnaby Browne, it was impossible to pass it unregarded. The feat once accomplished, like the broken egg of Columbus, it became of easy performance; and few were the Thompsons, few the Simpsons, and fewer still the Johnsons, who did not claim "the benefit of the act."

A prospective advantage was included also in their calculations. As time wore away, the obnoxious Thomas or John was silently dropped; and then, by a daringcoup-de-maître, the plebeian sur-name, which had been gradually contracting its powers, was altogether sunk, and the grub became a butterfly of most aristocratic pretensions. This is no vain theory founded on chance occurrences, but a truth which every one will recognise who runs over the list of his acquaintance, or examines the visiting-cards on his mantel-piece. It is as impossible now-a-days to meet with a man content to bear the opprobrium of a single monosyllabic name, as to raise money without security, or induce any one to avoid politics in conversation. The ancient prejudice against the "homo trium literarum" is now wholly removed; and we verily believe that Cavendish Mortimer Pierrepoint, an acknowledged scion of the swell-mob, would find more favour in the eyes of society than plain Benjamin Bunks, a well-known respectable hosier or linendraper, if a question of right were at issue between them.

There are two classes of persons who build up to themselves an altar of vain-glory founded on names of self-assumption. The first are those who, being cast originally in the basest metal, add the pinchbeck of quality to enhance the value of the original plebeian pewter; the second, of "dull and meagre lead," who thereunto conjoin the glare of brass or gloom of iron by the adoption of double names of equal dissonance. Examples are rife everywhere. Mr. and Mrs. Vokins, while their fortune was yet to make, were happy and content "as such;" but, the carriage once set up, the armsfound, and the visiting-cards printed, her friends are awake to the pleasing consciousness that "Mrs. Ferdinand Vokins" is "at home" every alternate Wednesday during the season.

Mr. Mudge was a plain, simple Glo'stershire squire, shooting partridges on the paternal acres, and called "Young Mr. Mudge," as manhood and whiskers expanded on his native soil. He comes to town, sees the world, and discovers, for the first time, despite the importance which inflates him, that he is nameless. He accordingly borrows from the French, and is straightway transformed into "the interesting Mr. Montmorency Mudge, who plays so divinely on the flute," though his very existence had been a question but a few brief hours before.

The Badgers, though proud of course of their nameas a family name, have daughters to marry, and sons to provide for: it is of no use to be good unless one appears so; and therefore Mrs.HowardBadger's suppers are the best in town, while Mr. Howard Badger is received with smiles at the Treasury.

Plain Boss would have succeeded nowhere, except, perhaps, on a street-door; but Felix Orlando Boss may enter the gayest drawing-room in Christendom, announced by files of intonating footmen.

We are invited to dine, and seek to ascertain the profit and loss of the invitation by inquiries of a fellowconviveas to the guests who will be there: he isl'ami de la maison, and, to give due emphasis to the description, and honour to the Amphitryon, he thus enumerates them. "Oh, you'll have the Mortimer Bullwinkles, Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Cutbush, the Stafford Priddys, Sir Montague Stumps, Mr. Temple Sniggers, the Beauchamp Horrockses, and Mrs. Courtenay Cocking; nobody else, that I remember." "Won't the Wartons be there?" "I don't know,—who are they?—I never heard of them:—what's theirothername?"

And so it is: this "other name,"—thisalter ego—becomes the grand desideratum in description,—the passport to fashion and celebrity.

The anonymous in authorship is no longer regarded, save in the instance of those veterans in literature whose silence is more significant than the loud-tongued voices of a million aspirants. We need no sign-post to show us the way to London, neither do we seek a name to anticipate their page. But the new candidates for fame are of a different order. The title-page of a work is in their estimation a maiden shield whereon it is their privilege to quarter the names of all their lineage, concentrated in themselves, or pompously appealed to in the names of others. Hence we have, "Rambles in Russia, by Charles Valentine Mowbray Muggins;" "Thoughts on the Poor-Laws, by Pygmalion Gammage;" "The Exile; a poem, by Brownlow Busfield, of the Middle Temple, Barrister-at-Law;" "Desperation; a novel, by Grenville Grindle, Esq.;" "The Veil Withdrawn, or, A Peep behind the Curtain, by the Nieces of the Hon. and Rev. Fitzherbert Fineclark;" and "Domestic Tyranny, or, The Stony-hearted Step-father, by Lavinia Cecilia Bottomley, only child of the late Captain Roderick Bottomley, of the Bombay Cavalry."

It is no longer our cue to be rendered "illustrious by courtesy;" we compel the admiration which the niggard world so carefully withholds, and extort the approbation it would smother. It matters little how raw, how shapeless, how crude, how undigested be the mass when drawn from the quarry of its creation; its uncouth aspect and angular deformity offer no impediment to the lapidary's skill, but rather enhance its value; and the more barbarous the name which ignorant parents have transmitted, the wider is the scope afforded to their descendants for rendering the adjunct more brilliant by the contrast.

He who is born Buggins, and changeth not, perisheth unregarded; his name appears in the Newgate Calendar, and whatever his fate, it is deemed a just one. But he who (though equally degraded in the annals of nomenclature by the repulsive or sneaking appellations of Jaggers, Blatcher, Gullock, or Lumkin,) adds to his patronymic the soft seduction or romantic interest of Albert, Eustace, Stanley, or Fitzmaurice, may appeal to the lord in waiting, or a patroness at Almack's, and kiss the hand of royalty, or bow at the shrine of beauty.

The motto is old and true, which many "gentlemen of coat-armour" do bear, that "Fortune favours the bold;" the daring speculators in the names of others are eminently successful in their adventure after greatness. To this category belong the sheriffs and aldermen, the bearers of addresses, and the deputed of corporations;these are they who may literally be said to have greatness "thrust upon them."

The Mayor of Norwich, hight Timothy Gamblebuck, urged by the ambitious spiritings of Mrs. G., kneels at his sovereign's feet, and, rewarded by an accolade, returns, in the triumph of knighthood and plenitude of loyalty, "Sir Timotheus Guelph Gamblebuck" bymorethan royal permission.

Mr. Sheriff Hole, presented by a peer, and similarly honoured by the king, marks his sense of his patron's kindness by the insertion of his title before the cavernous epithet, and figures at urban festivals as Sir John Cornwallis Hole, the most aristocratic on the shrieval archives.

Sir Marmaduke Fuggles, Sir Cholmondeley Bilke, Sir Constantine Peregrine Rumball, Sir Temple Gostick, and Sir Peter Sackville Biles, are amongst the many whom female instigation or personal desire have led to illustrate the glory of ancient houses. It is somewhere said in "Pelham" that one's unknown neighbour, or opposite at dinner, must necessarily be a baronet and Sir John; it is no less true that at the corner of every street, in the avenues of every ballroom, a newly created knight lies in waiting to devour one. A man with a bright blue coat, and, if possible, brighter buttons, with black satin waistcoat andverygold chain, with large hands and a face of red portent, cuts in with us at whist; his antagonists are perpetually appealing to him by his brilliant title. "It is your deal, Sir Vavasour,"—"My ace, Sir Vavasour,"—"Sir Vavasour, two doubles and the rub;"—till, bewildered by the glories of our feudal partner, we lose the game, and stealthily inquire of some one near, "Whoisthe gentleman opposite?" "Sir Vavasour Clapshaw" is the whispered reply, recalling the name of one much respected in our youthful days,—a celebrated artist in the cricket-bat line, who has now pitched his wicket within the precincts of aristocracy, and bowls down society with the grandeur of hispréfixe.

A lady in crimson velvet, with a bird of paradise in her blue and silver "turband," and a marabout boa wreathed round her neck, with long white gloves tightened unto bursting, and serpentine chains clinging unto suffocation, is seated in lofty pride at theupperend of theprincipalsaloon, and overwhelms by the dignity of her demeanour all who come within the vortex of her "full-blown suffisance."

"Lady—what did you say? Harcourt, or Harewood,—which?—I didn't distinctly hear." "Yes, Lady Harcourt." "Why, I thought she was dead." "Oh, yes, theCountessis dead; but this is Lady Harcourt Bumsted: that's her husband, Sir Julius,—he was knighted last Wednesday."

"There's honour for you!—grinning honour," as Falstaff has it.

Notabilities like these are nearly as illustrious as the surreptitious knights and dames who, by dint of surpassing impudence, pass current for as good as they. Both classes remind us of the gypsy-herald "Rouge-Sanglier," whose colours were as bright, and trappings as gay, as those of the legitimate "Toison d'Or:" they have but one fault; like him, their blazon is false, their arms are wrongly "tricked," metal overlays metal, gold covers brass, and nativegulesgives way to intrusive purple. The glory of our chivalry is often awkwardly eclipsed when it happens that a Frenchman is called uponto designate the new-made knight; he treats his Christian name with as much indifference as he manifests in the spelling of his surname,—a rule he always applies to those of British growth. We know a clever, shrewd, little, antiquarian Frenchman, whom no persuasion can induce to abbreviate a single letter of reference to page, folio, edition, or date; but who, whenever he has occasion to mention a knight or baronet of his acquaintance, invariably omits hisnom de baptême?. How pleasantly it would sound to hear the announcement of "Sir Biddles," "Sir Doody," or "Sir Farwig!" and yet this would be the predicament of these worthies were they ungraced by nobleprænomina.

The second class whose merits we propose to discuss are the illustrators of the "Binomial Theorem,"—the double-named families,—who, too hideous to walk alone, conjoin ugliness of equal intensity to scare and appal wherever they make their way. It is not sufficient for such as they that their name be Groutage or Gramshaw; they incontinently connect it—if they can—with "a worser," (to use the showman's phrase,) and "double-up" with Rapkin or Titterton. Thus we hear, at our morning concert, Mrs. Rapkin Gramshaw's carriage stopping the way; and a vain and desolate outcry in the Opera colonnade for the chariot of Mrs. Titterton Groutage. It would matter little if we were only doomed tohearthese names thus generally repeated; but there is a mode of administering them which makes usfeelthem, scorching and searing our inmost heart of hearts! A double name—no matter how base or dissonant—is held to be the most grateful to ears polite, as if the natural consequence of the intermarriage of two great discords must of necessity give birth to harmony.

How often have we writhed under the cruel infliction, when, betrayed by bad weather during a morning call, we have sat through the tedious hour of detaining rain, and listened to the forgotten glories of the races of Slark and Cutbush! It is a rule withall people,—no matter how they may be designatednow, or how utterly their names defy the ingenuity of antiquaries to render their etymology,—to derive their ancestral honours from the time of William the Conqueror! It is true that the bastard Duke had a general letter of licence for the enlistment of all the vagabonds that swarmed in Europe at the period of his expedition; and we know how many ruffians of all classes, from the predatory baron to the pillaging freebooter, thronged to his standard,—and so far there may often be some show of reason in the pretension.

But our claimants for origin among the Conqueror'snoblesseare not to be expected to dwell on this point with historical minuteness; what they wish to imply when they tell us that "the Smookers and Tites came over with the Conqueror," is, that they were equal in station to the De Albinis and De Warennes, who led their forces to the battle of Hastings, and gave the Conqueror his crown.

"Ours is a very old family indeed," says a thick-headed Devonshire squire, with scarcely wit enough to spell the name he bears,—"we came over with William the Conqueror: the Chubbs are a very old family; the first of the name was William the Conqueror's standard-bearer, Reginald de Chubb. Here's our coat of arms, we've got it onallour carriages,—three Chubs proper, in a field vert; the crest a hand and dagger,—becausehe saved the king's life!"

We knew this man's grandfather well, "excellent well,—he was a fishmonger," and sold the chubs he boasts of!

Miss Eleanor Pogson Lillicrap is a very fine young lady indeed; she discourses much on the gentility of Pa's and Ma's family, but chiefly of Ma's.

"The Lillicraps are very ancient,—a very old family in Sussex,—settled there long before Magna Charta; indeed, I believe they came over with the Conqueror. But the Pogsons—Ma's family—are much older,—in fact, descended directly from Alfred."

And this is perfectly true;—Alfred Pogson kept a butcher's shop at Brighton, and was Miss Eleanor's grandfather!

Some persons are not content with one bad name, but write and engrave it in duplicate. There are the Brown Browns, and the Jackson Jacksons, the Cooper Coopers, and the Grimes Grimeses. These families consist of many members, every one of whom is enumerated at the greatest possible length. We once saw the programme of some private theatricals to be enacted one Christmas at the Gamsons',—we beg pardon, the Gamson Gamsons'. It ran as follows,—the play being Romeo and Juliet:

RomeoMr. Gamson Gamson.MercutioMr. John Gamson Gamson.BenvolioMr. Charles Peter Gamson Gamson.TybaltMr. James Timbury Gamson Gamson.CapuletMr. Philip de Walker Gamson Gamson.Friar LawrenceMr. Wellington Gamson Gamson.JulietMiss Gamson Gamson.Lady CapuletMrs. Gamson Gamson.NurseMiss Horatia Gamson Gamson.PageMiss Octavia Juliana Gamson Gamson.

And, had there been more characters to fill up, there would still have been Gamson Gamsons to supply the vacuum.

Double-named people abound in watering-places, and shine in subscription-lists. The Master of the Ceremonies' book faithfully announces the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Bennett Hoskins Abrahall, and Sir Joseph and Lady Moggridge Shankey. We are told in the provincial records of "fashionable movements" that Mr. Raggs Thimbleby has taken a house for the season on the New Steine at Brighton; and that Mrs. Pilcher Frisby intends to pass the winter at Cheltenham. The Poles are in distress, and require a subscription; who heads the list?—Mr. Munt Spriggins! There is to be a meeting in favour of the Spitalfields weavers; who takes the chair?—Sir Runnacles Faddy! But there would be no end to the list were we to enumerate even a tithe of those who "rush into our head." The proverb which dooms the dog to destruction that bears "an ill name" is reversed in the case of man; affix whatever inharmonious compound you please to the patronymic of a Briton, and you only add to his celebrity: and we are firmly of opinion that the time is not far distant, when, the powers of permutation being exhausted, opprobrious epithets will assume their place in the rank of names, and figure in the annals of fashion; Sir Ruffian Rascal will then walk arm-in-arm with Lord Percy Plantagenet, and the "lovely and accomplished" Miss Mortimer be led to the altar by the wealthy and fashionable Sir Swindle Bully!

ANOTHER ORIGINAL OF "NOT A DRUM WAS HEARD."Our readers will recollect that in our first number the facetious priest of Water-grass-hill made a notable discovery that the Rev. Mr. Wolfe's celebrated lyric on the burial of Sir John Moore was not original, but a translation from a French poem written to commemorate the loss of a certain Colonel de Beaumanoir, who fell in India while defending Pondicherry against the forces of Coote. Father Prout, it is well known, loves a joke, and we must be cautious how we receive his evidence, more especially as another claim to the original of Mr. Wolfe's lines has been set up on behalf of a German poet. The following verses were found, it is said, in the monastery of Oliva, near Danzig, where it is well known that, during the Swedish war in Germany under Gustavus Adolph, a Swedish general of the name of Thorstenson fell on the ramparts of Danzig, and was buried during the night on the spot. Our readers must determine the question for themselves. Our own mind is thoroughly made up as to this controversy.KeinGrabgesang, keine Trommel erschollAls zum Wall' seine Leiche wir huben;Kein Krieger schoss ihm sein LebewohlWo wir still unsern Helden begruben.Wir gruben in stummer Nacht ihn einMit Bayonetten in Erd' und in Trümmer,Bey des trüben Mondlichts schwankendem ScheinUnd der matten Lanterne Geflimmer.Kein unnützer Sarg seine Brust einhegt',Nicht mit Linnen und Tüchern bedecket;Er lag, wie ein Krieger sich schlafen legt,Im Soldatenmantel gestrecket.Gar lange Gebete hielten wir nicht,Wir sprachen kein Wort von Sorgen;Wir schauten nur fest auf das todte GesichtUnd dachten mit Schmerz an den Morgen.Wir dachten, als wir gewühlet sein Bett'Und sein einsames Kissen gezogen,Wie Fremdling und Feind über's Haupt ihm geht,Wenn fern wir über den Wogen.Wenn sie über der kalten Asche sodannDen entflohenen Geist mögen kränken:Er achtet es nicht, wenn er ruhen nur kannIn der Gruft wo ihn Schweden versenken.Unser schweres Geschäft war nur halb gethan,Als die Glocke zum Rückzug ertönte;Wir hörten der Feinde Geschosse nahn,Da die ferne Kanone erdröhnte.Wir legten ihn langsam und traurig hinein,Frisch blutend vom Felde der Ehren;Wir liessen, ohn' Grabmal und Leichenstein,Ihn nur mit dem Ruhme gewähren.

Our readers will recollect that in our first number the facetious priest of Water-grass-hill made a notable discovery that the Rev. Mr. Wolfe's celebrated lyric on the burial of Sir John Moore was not original, but a translation from a French poem written to commemorate the loss of a certain Colonel de Beaumanoir, who fell in India while defending Pondicherry against the forces of Coote. Father Prout, it is well known, loves a joke, and we must be cautious how we receive his evidence, more especially as another claim to the original of Mr. Wolfe's lines has been set up on behalf of a German poet. The following verses were found, it is said, in the monastery of Oliva, near Danzig, where it is well known that, during the Swedish war in Germany under Gustavus Adolph, a Swedish general of the name of Thorstenson fell on the ramparts of Danzig, and was buried during the night on the spot. Our readers must determine the question for themselves. Our own mind is thoroughly made up as to this controversy.

KeinGrabgesang, keine Trommel erschollAls zum Wall' seine Leiche wir huben;Kein Krieger schoss ihm sein LebewohlWo wir still unsern Helden begruben.Wir gruben in stummer Nacht ihn einMit Bayonetten in Erd' und in Trümmer,Bey des trüben Mondlichts schwankendem ScheinUnd der matten Lanterne Geflimmer.Kein unnützer Sarg seine Brust einhegt',Nicht mit Linnen und Tüchern bedecket;Er lag, wie ein Krieger sich schlafen legt,Im Soldatenmantel gestrecket.Gar lange Gebete hielten wir nicht,Wir sprachen kein Wort von Sorgen;Wir schauten nur fest auf das todte GesichtUnd dachten mit Schmerz an den Morgen.Wir dachten, als wir gewühlet sein Bett'Und sein einsames Kissen gezogen,Wie Fremdling und Feind über's Haupt ihm geht,Wenn fern wir über den Wogen.Wenn sie über der kalten Asche sodannDen entflohenen Geist mögen kränken:Er achtet es nicht, wenn er ruhen nur kannIn der Gruft wo ihn Schweden versenken.Unser schweres Geschäft war nur halb gethan,Als die Glocke zum Rückzug ertönte;Wir hörten der Feinde Geschosse nahn,Da die ferne Kanone erdröhnte.Wir legten ihn langsam und traurig hinein,Frisch blutend vom Felde der Ehren;Wir liessen, ohn' Grabmal und Leichenstein,Ihn nur mit dem Ruhme gewähren.

KeinGrabgesang, keine Trommel erschollAls zum Wall' seine Leiche wir huben;Kein Krieger schoss ihm sein LebewohlWo wir still unsern Helden begruben.Wir gruben in stummer Nacht ihn einMit Bayonetten in Erd' und in Trümmer,Bey des trüben Mondlichts schwankendem ScheinUnd der matten Lanterne Geflimmer.Kein unnützer Sarg seine Brust einhegt',Nicht mit Linnen und Tüchern bedecket;Er lag, wie ein Krieger sich schlafen legt,Im Soldatenmantel gestrecket.Gar lange Gebete hielten wir nicht,Wir sprachen kein Wort von Sorgen;Wir schauten nur fest auf das todte GesichtUnd dachten mit Schmerz an den Morgen.Wir dachten, als wir gewühlet sein Bett'Und sein einsames Kissen gezogen,Wie Fremdling und Feind über's Haupt ihm geht,Wenn fern wir über den Wogen.Wenn sie über der kalten Asche sodannDen entflohenen Geist mögen kränken:Er achtet es nicht, wenn er ruhen nur kannIn der Gruft wo ihn Schweden versenken.Unser schweres Geschäft war nur halb gethan,Als die Glocke zum Rückzug ertönte;Wir hörten der Feinde Geschosse nahn,Da die ferne Kanone erdröhnte.Wir legten ihn langsam und traurig hinein,Frisch blutend vom Felde der Ehren;Wir liessen, ohn' Grabmal und Leichenstein,Ihn nur mit dem Ruhme gewähren.

KeinGrabgesang, keine Trommel erschollAls zum Wall' seine Leiche wir huben;Kein Krieger schoss ihm sein LebewohlWo wir still unsern Helden begruben.

KeinGrabgesang, keine Trommel erscholl

Als zum Wall' seine Leiche wir huben;

Kein Krieger schoss ihm sein Lebewohl

Wo wir still unsern Helden begruben.

Wir gruben in stummer Nacht ihn einMit Bayonetten in Erd' und in Trümmer,Bey des trüben Mondlichts schwankendem ScheinUnd der matten Lanterne Geflimmer.

Wir gruben in stummer Nacht ihn ein

Mit Bayonetten in Erd' und in Trümmer,

Bey des trüben Mondlichts schwankendem Schein

Und der matten Lanterne Geflimmer.

Kein unnützer Sarg seine Brust einhegt',Nicht mit Linnen und Tüchern bedecket;Er lag, wie ein Krieger sich schlafen legt,Im Soldatenmantel gestrecket.

Kein unnützer Sarg seine Brust einhegt',

Nicht mit Linnen und Tüchern bedecket;

Er lag, wie ein Krieger sich schlafen legt,

Im Soldatenmantel gestrecket.

Gar lange Gebete hielten wir nicht,Wir sprachen kein Wort von Sorgen;Wir schauten nur fest auf das todte GesichtUnd dachten mit Schmerz an den Morgen.

Gar lange Gebete hielten wir nicht,

Wir sprachen kein Wort von Sorgen;

Wir schauten nur fest auf das todte Gesicht

Und dachten mit Schmerz an den Morgen.

Wir dachten, als wir gewühlet sein Bett'Und sein einsames Kissen gezogen,Wie Fremdling und Feind über's Haupt ihm geht,Wenn fern wir über den Wogen.

Wir dachten, als wir gewühlet sein Bett'

Und sein einsames Kissen gezogen,

Wie Fremdling und Feind über's Haupt ihm geht,

Wenn fern wir über den Wogen.

Wenn sie über der kalten Asche sodannDen entflohenen Geist mögen kränken:Er achtet es nicht, wenn er ruhen nur kannIn der Gruft wo ihn Schweden versenken.

Wenn sie über der kalten Asche sodann

Den entflohenen Geist mögen kränken:

Er achtet es nicht, wenn er ruhen nur kann

In der Gruft wo ihn Schweden versenken.

Unser schweres Geschäft war nur halb gethan,Als die Glocke zum Rückzug ertönte;Wir hörten der Feinde Geschosse nahn,Da die ferne Kanone erdröhnte.

Unser schweres Geschäft war nur halb gethan,

Als die Glocke zum Rückzug ertönte;

Wir hörten der Feinde Geschosse nahn,

Da die ferne Kanone erdröhnte.

Wir legten ihn langsam und traurig hinein,Frisch blutend vom Felde der Ehren;Wir liessen, ohn' Grabmal und Leichenstein,Ihn nur mit dem Ruhme gewähren.

Wir legten ihn langsam und traurig hinein,

Frisch blutend vom Felde der Ehren;

Wir liessen, ohn' Grabmal und Leichenstein,

Ihn nur mit dem Ruhme gewähren.

INDEXTOTHE SECOND VOLUME.A.Ablaincourt, Monsieur d',360.Adventures in Paris, the Five Floors,495.575.—— of a Tale,511.Africans, superstition of the,48.Apportionment of the World, from Schiller,549.Astronomical Agitation, reform of the Solar System,508.Autobiography of a Good Joke,354.B.Ball, Lady Blue's,380.Ballar, legend of,527.Bandits, the last of the,585.Barbone, Signor, (a bandit,) adventures of,585.Bayly, Thomas Haynes, paper by,124.Beau Nash, seeNash."Bee-Hive," The Cannon Family by the author of the,150.445.Begaud, Mons. narrative of his life,186.472.Biddy Tibs, who cared for nobody, story of,288.Binks, Tom, story of,27.Blake, Marmaduke,340.Borowlaski, Count, lines occasioned by the death of,484.Botherby, Mrs. story related by,92."Boz," Oliver Twist, &c. by,2.110.215.397.430.534.Brandy, When and why the Devil invented,518.Brinvilliers, Marquis de,229.—— Marchioness de, account of her secret poisonings,230;of her apprehension,236;execution,237.Buckthorne, Master Erasmus,92.Butterfly Bishop, seeFictions of the Middle Ages.C.Calonne, M.473.Cannon Family, account of the,150;particulars of their Journey to Boulogne,454.Capital Punishments in London eighty years ago, (Earl Ferrers,)595.Carr, Robert, Viscount Rochester and Earl of Somerset, his influence with King James I.322;created Earl of Somerset,323;his conduct to Sir Thomas Overbury,324;his marriage with Lady Essex,326;his trial for the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury,332.Castle by the Sea, lines on the,623.Chapter on Laughing,163;On Widows,485.Church of the Seven, legend of the,530.Club-foot, the man with a,381.Confessions of an Elderly Gentleman,445.Costello, Dudley, "Nobility in Disguise" by,626.Courtship, story of a Marine's,82.Cross, Mr. Remonstratory Ode to,413.D.Darby Ryan, his account of his journey to Bally——,69.Account of a festival given by him,464.Darby the Swift; or, the Longest Way round is the Shortest Way Home,68.464.De Kock, M. Paul, paper by,360.Deering, Mr. character of,31.—— Julia, story respecting,31.Disappointed Man, some passages in the life of a,270.Double Barrel, the, song of the month, by Father Prout,213.Dream, The,206.Duel, The, by Captain Medwin,76.E.Elderly Gentleman, Confessions of an,445.Essex, Countess of, divorced from her husband,323;her marriage with the Earl of Somerset,326;her trial for poisoning Sir Thomas Overbury,331.Excellent Offer, an,340.F.Family Stories, the Leech of Folkestone,91.Patty Morgan the Milkmaid's Story,207.Fang, Mr. remarks on his magisterial conduct,12.Father's, My, Old Hall,453.Ferrers, Earl, account of his execution,595.Fictions of the Middle Ages,—the Butterfly Bishop,17.Fog, Peter-Pindaric ode to the,606.Folkestone, story of the Leech of,91.Foster Child, story of the,37.Francesca, Serenade to,239.G.Gahagan, Goliah, The Professor by,277.Genius; or, the Dog's-meat Dog, a sonnet,214.Gentleman Quite, a poem,36.Gibson, John Ward, narrative of,240.Girl, the lonely, a poem,548.Glorvina, the Maid of Meath, by Sheridan Knowles,304.Good Humour, Glories of,591.Good Joke, autobiography of a,340.Granada, the Key of, lines on,303.Greek Plays observation on,551.Grub Street News,425.H.Hajji Baba, Remains of, his observations on English politics,52;on the appearance of England,167;his interview with the English Vizier,173.Hauteville, Nathalie de,360.Henry, Prince, eldest son of James I. of England, character of,336;suspicions respecting his death,338.Hogarth, George, Poisoners of the Seventeenth Century by,229.322.Holl, H. paper by,288.Honan, M. Burke, a Marine's Courtship by,82.I.Ingoldsby, Thomas, Family Stories by,91.207.Inquiries, a few,470.J.Jack among the Mummies, by the Old Sailor,610.James I. King of England, his encouragement of favourites,322;his partiality for Robert Carr, Viscount Rochester,ib.;creates him Earl of Somerset,323;his conduct upon the inquiry into the death of Sir Thomas Overbury,327;on the death of his son, Prince Henry,338.Jocund, Joyce, papers by,176.413.Johns, Richard, paper by,521.Joke, autobiography of a good,354.K.Kate Kearney, a New Song to the tune of,25.Key of Granada, lines on the,303.Knowles, Sheridan, Glorvina by,304.L.La Chaussée, account of his secret poisonings,232;his execution,235.Ladies, Shakspeare's, criticisms on,550.Lady Blue's Ball,380.Laughing, chapter on,163.Leech of Folkestone, story of the,91.Legends—the Legend of Ballar,527;of the Church of the Seven,530;some account of the legends of the Torry Islanders,531.Legislative Nomenclature,624.Lines—on Smoke,268;on the Key of Granada,303;on the death of Count Borowlaski, a Polish dwarf,484;on the Castle by the Sea,623.London, capital punishments in, eighty years ago,595."Look at the Clock!" a poem, by Thomas Ingoldsby,207.Love in the City; or, All's well that ends well,126;critical remarks upon, by W.H. Maxwell,133.Lyric for Lovers, a poem,50.M.Maginn, Dr. Shakspeare Papers by,57.370.Man with the Club Foot, a tale of St. Luke's,381.Marine's Courtship, story of a,82.Marsh, Master Thomas, story respecting him,93.Martial in Town,507.Mascalbruni, Geronymo, adventures of, by Captain Medwin,254.Mayhew, E. piece by,197.Medwin, Captain, stories and narrations by,76.254.585.Midnight Mishaps,197.Midsummer Night's Dream, criticisms on,370.Monk of Ravenne,81.Month, songs of the, seeSongs.Morier, J. Remains of Hajji Baba by,51.166.Mudfog Association, full report of the first meeting of, for the advancement of Everything,397.Muster Chaunt for the Members of the Temperance Societies,165.My Father's Old Hall,453.My Uncle, a fragment,175.N.Nash, Richard, (Beau Nash,) memoir of,414.Nights at Sea; or, Sketches of Naval Life during the War, by the Old Sailor;the French Captain's Story,183.471;Jack among the Mummies,610.Nine Muse-ings on his Native County, by Phelim O'Toole,319.Nobility in Disguise,626.Nomenclature, Legislative,624.Norton, Mrs. Erskine, Adventures of a Tale by,511."Not a Drum was heard," another original of,632.O.Ode—to Mr. Cross,413.To the Queen,573.Old Bell, Song of the,196.Oliver Twist; or, the Parish Boy's Progress;particulars respecting his residence with the Jew,2.7;his adventures with his companions,8;his examination by Mr. Fang the magistrate,12;taken under the protection of Mr. Brownlow,16;his residence with him,110;further particulars respecting his stay with Mr. Brownlow,215;remarkable prediction respecting him,221;reclaimed by the Jew and his companions,227;further account of him after his recapture,430.437;how he passed his time in the improving society of his reputable friends,534;a notable plan discussed and determined on,540.Overbury, Sir Thomas, secretary to Lord Rochester,323;committed to the Tower,324;his death,326;inquiry into his supposed murder,327.P.Passages in the Life of a Disappointed Man,270.Patty Morgan the Milkmaid's Story,207.Penautier, M. observations concerning him,238.Peter-Pindaric ode to the Fog,606.Petrarch in London,494.Phelim O'Toole's Nine Muse-ings on his Native County,319.Piper's Progress, the, by Father Prout,67.Poems,36.50.181.207.Poisoners of the Seventeenth Century,229.322.Polish Dwarf, lines on the death of a,484.Portrait Gallery, the Cannon Family,150;Account of their Adventures in Boulogne,454.Professor, the, a tale,277.Prout, Father, Poems by,1.67.213.Punch, poetry by,533.606.Punishments, seeCapital Punishments.Q.Queen, ode to,568.R.Rankin, F. Harrison, Three Notches of the Devil's Tale by,46.Rather hard to take, a poem,181.Ravenne, Monk of,81.Regatta, the, by W.H. Maxwell,299.Relics of St. Pius,463.Remains of Hajji Baba, by J. Morier,51.166."Reminiscences of a Monthly Nurse," papers by the author of,135.Remonstratory Ode to Mr. Cross,413.Report of the First Meeting of the Mudfog Association for the advancement of Everything,397.Rivals of yore, What though we were,124.Roches, Peter de, Bishop of Winchester, story respecting him,17.Rochester, Viscount, seeCarr, Robert.Romeo and Juliet, criticisms on, by Dr. Maginn,57.S.St. Croix, M. particulars respecting him,229;account of his secret poisonings,231;his death,233.St. Paul's, Why the wind blows round,176.St. Pius, relics of,462.Schiller, poem from,549.Secret Poisoners,229.230.232.323.332.Secret, the, from M. Paul de Kock,360.Serenade, the, from Uhland,149.Serenades,149.239.Sevigné, Madame, her remarks respecting the Marchioness de Brinvilliers,237;respecting M. Penautier,238.Shakspeare Papers, Romeo and Juliet,57.Midsummer Night's Dream,370.Lady Macbeth,558.Smoke, lines on,268.Solar System, reform of the,508.Somerset, Earl of, seeCarr, Robert.Song—a new one to the tune of "Kate Kearney,"25;of the South,179;of the Old Bell,196;of Modern Time,594.Songs of the Month, July,1;August,109;September,213;October,321;November,429;December,533.Sonnet on Genius; or, the Dog's-meat Dog,213.Stanzas, Elegiac,16."Stories of Waterloo," Legends, &c. by the author of, (W.H. Maxwell,)125.299.Suicide,569.T.Tale, adventures of a,511.Temperance Societies, Muster Chaunt for the,165.Three Notches from the Devil's Tail; or, the Man in the Spanish Cloak,135.Tibs, Biddy, who cared for nobody, story of,288.Torry Islanders, some account of the legends of the, by the author of "Stories of Waterloo,"531.Translations from Uhland,149.206.Tweazle, Mr. adventures of,197.Twist, seeOliver Twist.U.Uhland, translation from,149.206.Uncle, My, a fragment,175.W.Wade, J.A. Darby the Swift, &c. by,68.196.239.319.464.Wall, Governor, execution of,602.Webbe, E. paper by,214."Waterloo," Legends by the author of "Stories of," (W.H. Maxwell,)125.299.527.What though we were rivals of yore, by T. Haynes Bayly,124.Whitehead, C.181.240.White Man's Devil House, a fragment,46.Widows, chapter on,485.Wilson, Mrs. Cornwell Baron, Songs by,16.380.453.Wit in spite of himself, the,521.Wood, Mr. anecdote related by him of Beau Nash,419.END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.LONDON:PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,Dorset-Street, Fleet-Street.

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

LONDON:PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,Dorset-Street, Fleet-Street.


Back to IndexNext