race of man. Huggins and Muggins are
Odin's two ravens; Waddilove is Watts, or
Watling; Dubbins, Dobbins, Tubby, and
Dobbs, are the same as Thurtell, and they
are all doves; Wiggins and Wiggles, that I
have often laughed at on the comic stage, are
in reality terrible warriors; the meek Toots
and Totman are properly emblems of gentle
affection. Nutkins is suggestive of
everything but what it is—a diminutive of the
ancient King Canute; Popkins means a
small boy; Timmins is personified mildness
and affability; and Higgins and Huggins are
the names of thoughtful philosophers.

It may be well for me to know that
Sonnick (as Jeames calls it) is as correct, and
more ancient, than Sonnet; that one-third of
our surnames have a local origin, and the
rest belong to Angles, Saxons, Jutes, or
Frisians—old Saxon, rather than to Anglo-
Saxon; but I lay down this book with a
feeling that dignities can never be to me as
dignified as they were before; that comic
names will be always floating in my eyes
upon a Northern under-current, carrying
them up into the dim regions of a remote and
venerable antiquity; and that Bethnal-Green
is now more determined than ever to
measure heraldic swords with Belgravia and
Mayfair.

MY LADY LUDLOW.

CHAPTER THE TENTH.

THE next morning Miss Galindo made her
appearance, and, by some mistake, unusual in
my lady's well-trained servants, was shown
into the room where I was trying to walk;
for a certain amount of exercise was
prescribed for me, painful although the exertion
had become.

She brought a little basket along with
her; and while the footman was gone to
inquire my lady's wishes (for, indeed, I don't
think that Lady Ludlow expected Miss
Galindo so soon to assume her clerkship;
nor, indeed, had Mr. Horner any work of any
kind ready for his new assistant to do), she
launched out into conversation with me.

"It was a sudden summons, my dear!
However, as I have often said to myself,
ever since an occasion long ago, if Lady
Ludlow ever honours me by asking for my right
hand, I'll cut it off, and wrap the stump up
so tidily she shall never find out it bleeds.
But if I had had a little more time I could
have mended my pens better. You see I
have had to sit up pretty late to get these
sleeves made"—and she took out of her
basket a pair of brown-holland over-sleeves,
very much such as a grocer's apprentice
wears—"and I had only time to make seven
or eight pens out of some quills Farmer
Thomson gave me last autumn. As for ink,
I'm thankful to say that's always ready; an
ounce of steel filings, an ounce of nut-gall,
and a pint of water (tea, if you're extravagant,
which, thank Heaven! I'm not), put
all in a bottle, and hang it up behind the
house door, so that the whole gets a good
shaking every time you slam it to, and, even
if you are in a passion and bang it, as Sally
and I often do, it is all the better for it, and
there's my ink ready for use; ready to write
my lady's will with, if need be."

"O, Miss Galindo! " said I, " don't talk so;
my lady's will! and she not dead yet."

"And if she were, what would be the use
of talking of making her will? Now, if you
were Sally, I should say, 'Answer me that,
you goose!' But, as you're a relation of my
lady's, I must be civil, and only say, 'I
can't think how you can talk so like a fool!'
To be sure, poor thing, you're lame!"

I do not know how long she would have
gone on; but my lady came in, and I, released
from my duty of entertaining Miss Galindo,
made my limping way into the next room.
To tell the truth, I was rather afraid of Miss
Galindo's tongue, for I never knew what she
would say next.

Presently my lady came in. She began to
look in the bureau for something, and as she
looked she spoke to me.

"I think Mr. Horner must have made
some mistake when he said he had so much
work that he almost required a clerk, for
this morning he cannot find anything for
Miss Galindo to do, and there she is, sitting
with her pen behind her ear, waiting for
something to write. I am come to find her
my mother's letters, for I should like to have
a fair copy made of them. O, here they are!
don't trouble yourself, my dear child."

When my lady returned, she sate down
and began to talk of Mr. Gray.

''Miss Galindo says she saw him going to
hold a prayer-meeting in a cottage. Now,
that really makes me unhappy, it is so like
what Mr. Wesley used to do in my younger
days; and since then we have had rebellion
in the American colonies and the French
revolution. You may depend upon it, my
dear, making religion and education common
—vulgarising them, as it were—is a bad
thing for a nation. A man who hears
prayers read in the cottage where he has just
supped on bread and bacon forgets the
respect due to a church; he begins to think
that one place is as good as another, and,
by-and-by, that one person is as good as
another; and after that I always find that
people begin to talk of their rights, instead of
thinking of their duties. I wish Mr. Gray
had been more tractable, and had left well
alone. What do you think I heard this
morning? Why, that the Home Hill estate,
which niches into the Hanbury property,
was bought by a Baptist baker from
Birmingham!"

"A Baptist baker!" I exclaimed. I had
never seen a Dissenter to my knowledge;
but, having always heard them spoken of
with horror, I looked upon them almost as if