my line, but I dare say "a good time" is
"coming," when people return to town after
the holidays.

             BROWN STUDIES.

"LIKE will to like," but it must have been
something more than the indulgence of this
propensity—an apocryphal one at best—that
assembled in the little village of Brownham in
the Moors, at which it was my hap to reside
for two years witli a private tutor, so many
individuals of identical name.

My excellent tutor, to begin with, was the
Reverend Philip Brown. He had married a cousin,
Miss Gertrude Brown, whose band of sisters,
forming a rich handful of brown-haired, brown-
cheeked Browns, visited us in detachments as
opportunity and accommodation permitted.
The duties of the incumbency requiring
assistance, Mr. Brown had recently engaged a
curate, and but little surprise was felt by those
who knew the place when it transpired that his
name also was Brown.

Our squire and lord of the manor headed the
list, however, with what might be called a
double subscription, he being the Honourable
Brown Brown. The smaller fry followed suit.
The village school was iinder the control of a
gentleman who was distinguished from his
brother Browns by the surname of Cocky, or
Cock-eye Brown. The clerk was Brown, and
he being the sixth in lineal descent who had
officiated in that capacity, the man would have
been bold who attempted to divorce the office
from the colour. The exciseman was Brown,
"Big" Brown. The postman Brown—"Little,"
or, at times, "Cheeky" Brown. The landlord
of our little inn—the Brown Bear—was Brown.
In addition to these, the village street was em-
browned from end to end, insomuch that I am
not romancing when I aver that there were not
five shops in the place that did not exhibit the
popular name, either as actual proprietor, or
successor to some "late Brown."

To see the intercourse of this little community
carried on without any apparent mistake
gave me both interest and surprise. To a
certain extent it was smooth sailing. One can
understand the distinctions derived from
commerce—Brown the baker, Brown the smith,
Brown the barber, fish Brown, peddling
Brown; but how about the Browns of no
occupation, idle, loafing Browns, drinking, and, it
was to be feared, poaching Browns, to whose
proceedings the attention of our police protector,
Brown, L 23, was often furtively directed?
"Thief" Brown, "Skulker" Brown, "Returned-
convict" Brown, were prefixes which, however
appropriate, might occasionally lead to a mis-
understanding. Personality, as a rule, is best
avoided. How, then, to fix. your man?
"Young" Brown would be simply absurd;
Brown, son of the elder Brown, "old Brown's
son, you know," would be little better, since
the memory of the very oldest inhabitant (a
man named Brown) recals no period when there
were not at least three generations of the same
family of Browns flourishing in Brownham.
Names were better arranged in the days when
Higg could never have been confounded with
his father Snell, or Wamba mixed up
inextricably with his civic ancestor the
"alderman."

The village, however, did manage to
discriminate; and although the process was as
mysterious as is, to the uninstructed eye, the
working of a steam-engine, the result was as
precise and as effectual. Some peculiar
intonation, some gesture of the speaker's eye, or
nose, or chin, seemed to indicate at once which
Brown was meant; and while my reverend
tutor never, by his own confession, proclaimed
the banns between bachelor and spinster
Browns without some misgiving as to the
sufficiency of the identification, the village
itself was never at fault, seldom had recourse
to nicknames, except as a luxury, and separated
John Brown (half wink) from John Brown
(toss of the chin) and John Brown (sniff), as
completely as if the most elaborate portrait
had been executed of each of the three. But
to be understood and at ease in this, study and
experience were necessary. I shall not soon
forget the pains it cost me to acquire the
particular sniff that pointed out the last-named
John as the subject of conversation!

The bewilderment of strangers who found
themselves splashing and struggling in this torrent
of Browns, without such corks as we have
mentioned, was amusing enough. The clearest
intellect might have experienced some
confusion. It did. During my stay at Brownham,
a case was tried at the neighbouring assize
town involving a disputed right of way.
As frequently happens in such cases, a large
body of witnesses had been summoned, and of
those engaged in the cause—"Brown and
Another v. Browne Browne," it chanced that at
least four-fifths belonged to our village and
vicinity. Need it be added that these, almost
to a man, were Browns?"

It was puzzling enough for the sharp-witted
counsel to keep their Browns from entangling.
But the real labour devolved upon the
unfortunate judge, who, in endeavouring to collate
and present to the jury the whole body of
evidence, was driven almost to his wits' end.

"The testimony, gentlemen," said his lordship,
"of that very intelligent witness, James
Brown—confirmed in all its leading particulars
by that of the witness Brown—I mean, James
Brown—that is, the other James Brown
—demands your most serious attention. For while,
on the one hand, the respective affidavits of
Peter Brown and George Brown—not to speak
of the oral testimony of Stephen, Philip, and"
—(consulting his notes)—"yes, and William
—William, gentlemen—Brown—point to the
conclusion that the connexion of James Brown
with the property of the Browne Browne family
dates from so early a period as the decease of
Petar Brown the elder—on the other hand,