England as the land of the Angles, and
Anglea (from Old Saxon Eng or Ing, a
meadow or plain), as folks from a level
country.

Even as to names arising in historic times,
we have a fair share of historic doubt to bear
with. We know that Piccadilly is named
from the pickadil, or broad flat white linen
collar turning down at the neck over the
jacket in the time of Cromwell. It was
called pickadil or piccadilla, perhaps, from
picca a spear-head, because of the sharp
points of its stiffened plaits. Now Pennant
says that there was Piccadilla Hall upon the
site of Sackville Street, where these collars
were sold. Blount speaks of the famous
ordinary near Saint James's called Pickadilly,
perhaps because it was "the utmost or skirt
house of the suburbs." Or was it so called
because it was built by Higgins, the tailor,
who got most of his estate by pickadillies.
Here is uncertainty; but as to the main fact
there is no doubt. Piccadilly is, being
interpreted, a turn-down collar. Fetter Lane we
know to be Fewter Lane; from the fewters,
or idle people, lying about there when it was
a green lane leading to gardens. A fewterer
meant properly a dog-keeper.

London is named from an old British king
who is said specially to have adorned it, Lud's
Town; the same king gave his name to
Ludgate. Paris was called by Julius Caesar
Lutetia of the Parisians. A wandering tribe
in remote times built huts on the insular
part of the town now called the city, and they
named their fastness from the Celtic, Loutonhezi
(or Lutetia) "dwelling of the waters."
Themselves they called Parisii, and to account
for that name there are half a dozen theories,
of which the most absurd is that which traces
it to Paris, son of Priam. The city grew to
be so famous for its filthy streets that it was
supposed to have been called Lutetia from
lutum, the Latin word for mud.

But we have travelled beyond bounds. We
have no business in Paris, and re-enter
England again by the Thames. Thames is
a Celtic word. The Ancient Britons have
left the chief traces of their language on
the rivers and hills of the country they
inhabited. Later occupants accepted the names
that they found, and though they were merely
general words meaning the stream, the river,
or the water, as known to the dwellers in
each region, the general word was a particular
one in the stranger's ear. Thus, out of the
Celtic words for water Tain, Tav, and Cluyd,
we get names for our rivers Thames, Tamar,
Tavy, and Dove, as well as the Clyde in
Scotland, and the less familiar Clydack,
Cledack, Cledog, and Clettur in Wales. Gwy,
or wy, was another British name for water,
whence we get the Wye and Weymouth.
There was an odd-looking British word for
running water, Gwysg, of which trace is
retained by the Axe, the Exe, the Esk, and the
Usk.

Afon was also a general British word for a
river, now applied as a particular name to
many Avons in this country. T'Avon is said
to be the etymology of the river Tone that
gives its name to Taunton. Some Celtic names
of rivers are from the old adjectives, describing them:
Cam was yr afon Cam, the crooked
river; Teign and Tyne, were yr afon Taen,
the spreading rivers; Lim or Lyme was y
nant Llym, the sharp stream; the Yare or
Yar, y nant Gwair, the fresh or vigorous
stream; the Frome yr afon Ffrwm, the river
of rich vegetation. There was another Celtic
word for water—dwr, allied to the Greek
udõr, which names the Douro in Spain, and
is at the root of our word Dover. There is
a river Dur in Ireland, an Adur in Sussex,
an Adder in Scotland, and the Stour is,
perhaps, gwysdwr, the deep water.

In Anglo-Saxon there was a word ea, allied
to the French eau, for water in general or
running water; it occurs in names of rivers,
or of places near them, and in names of river
marshes. In the eastern counties the word is
preserved in names like Popham's Ea; the
Medway was once written Meduw-ea. Eye
and Yeo are corruptions of this word, and Ea
is still one of the names of the river Leven.
Chels-ea is the cold river-marsh, Batters-ea,
Saint Peter's river-marsh, which formerly
belonged to the abbey of Saint Peters, Chertsey.
Eton Ea-ton, is the town of the river. E-rith
is the water channel. Borne, Burn, and
Bourne were Anglo-Saxon names for streams.
Tyburn boundary stream; Holborn hollow
stream, Auburn the ancient stream.

Efes or Eves, in a word like Evesham, was a
river-bank or edge of a mountain. Ford
meant in Anglo-Saxon what it means in
modern English. Rom-ford was the broad
ford, Stam-ford the stony ford; Here-ford,
the ford of the army, Tiverton, Twy-ford-tun
the town of two fords. The Anglo-Saxon
hithe, a port obvious in the names like Hythe
and Greenhithe, is contained also in such a
word as Lambeth, the hithe for lambs (or
loam?) Lin is Celtic, for a deep pool, and
occurs in words like Lincoln and Dublin.
Dublin is, in fact, equivalent to Blackpool.

From the streams we look to the hills.
There was an old Celtic word, den, for a hill-
fortress, and an Anglo-Saxon dun of Celtic
origin, for a hill or a down, whence we get
many of our modern endings in don, as well
as the Downs themselves. Thus, Snowdon
is, of course, the snowy hill. Also there was
an old Celtic word, Pan for a hill, about
which a curious remark has been made. The
Celts who came into this country were not all
of one tribe, and did not all speak one dialect.
The first comers had the word Kent for a
promontory, and the five great headlands of
Britain on which are the modern counties of
Kent, Lincolnshire, Haddingtonshire,
Aberdeenshire, and Caithness, were all originally
called Kent, as appears from the names of
the tribes, Cantii, Iceni, and Cantæ, from the