to know of her husband's death, besides the rea- The slow ripening of it still left me a meason you have just mentioned ?" sure of precaution to take, an obligation of gratitude to perform, and a doubtful question to solve.

inferred from his reply. His letter answered my questions, by communicating these important facts:

In the first place, "the late Sir Percival Glyde, of Blackwater Park," had never set foot in Varneck Hall. The deceased gentleman was a total stranger to Major Donthorne, and to all his family.

In the second place, "the late Mr. Philip Fairlie, of Limmeridge House," had been, in his younger days, the intimate friend and constant guest of Major Donthorne. Having refreshed his memory by looking back to old letters and other papers, the Major was in a position to say positively, that Mr. Philip Fairlie was staying at Varneck Hall in the month of August, eighteen hundred and twenty-six, and that he remained there, for the shooting, during the month of September and part of October following. He then left, to the best of the Major's belief, for Scotland, and did not return to Varneck Hall till after a lapse of time, when he reappeared in the character of a newly-married man.

Taken by itself, this statement was, perhaps, of little positive value-but, taken in connexion with certain facts, every one of which either Marian or I knew to be true, it suggested one plain conclusion that was, to our minds, irresistible.

Knowing, now, that Mr. Philip Fairlie had been at Varneck Hall in the autumn of eighteen hundred and twenty-six, and that Mrs. Catherick had been living there in service at the same time, we knew also:-first, that Aune had been born in June, eighteen hundred and twenty-seven; secondly, that she had always presented an extraordinary personal resemblance to Laura; and, thirdly, that Laura herself was strikingly like her father. Mr. Philip Fairlie had been one of the notoriously handsome men of his time. In disposition entirely unlike his brother Frederick, he was the spoilt darling of society, especially of the women-an easy, light-hearted, impulsive, affectionate man; generous to a fault; constitutionally lax in his principles, and notoriously thoughtless of moral obligations where women were concerned. Such were the facts we knew; such was the character of the man. Surely, the plain inference that follows needs no pointing out?

naturally suggests one other question. Did she ever suspect whose child the little girl brought to her at Limmeridge might be?

Marian's testimony was positive on this point. Mrs. Fairlie's letter to her husband, which had been read to me in former days-the letter describing Anne's resemblance to Laura, and acknowledging her affectionate interest in the little stranger-had been written, beyond all question, in perfect innocence of heart. It even seemed doubtful, on consideration, whether Mr. Philip Fairlie himself had been nearer than his wife to any suspicion of the truth. The disgracefully deceitful circumstances under which Mrs. Catherick had married, the purpose of concealment which the marriage was intended to answer, might well keep her silent for caution's sake, perhaps for her own pride's sake also-even assuming that she had the means, in his absence, of communicating with the father of her unborn child.

As this surmise floated through my mind, there rose on my memory the remembrance of the Scripture denunciation which we have all thought of, in our time, with wonder and with awe: "The sins of the fathers shall be visited on the children." But for the fatal resemblance between the two daughters of one father, the conspiracy of which Anne had been the innocent instrument and Laura the innocent victim, could never have been planned. With what unerring and terrible directness the long chain of circumstances led down from the thoughtless wrong committed by the father to the heartless injury inflicted on the child!

These thoughts came to me, and others with them, which drew my mind away to the little Cumberland churchyard where Anne Catherick now lay buried. I thought of the bygone days when I had met her by Mrs. Fairlie's grave, and met her for the last time. I thought of her poor helpless hands beating on the tombstone, and her weary, yearning words, murmured to the dead remains of her protectress and her friend. "Oh, if I could die, and be hidden and at rest with you!" Little more than a year had passed since she breathed that wish; and how inscrutably, how awfully, it had been fulfilled. The words she had spoken to Laura by the shores of the lake, the very words had now come Read by the new light which had now broken true. "Oh, if I could only be buried with your upon me, even Mrs. Catherick's letter, in despite mother! If I could only wake at her side of herself, rendered its mite of assistance to- when the angel's trumpet sounds, and the wards strengthening the conclusion at which graves give up their dead at the resurrection!" I had arrived. She had described Mrs. Fairlie Through what mortal crime and horror, through (in writing to me) as "plain-looking," and as what darkest windings of the way down to having "entrapped the handsomest man in Eng- Death, the lost creature had wandered in land into marrying her." Both assertions were God's leading to the last home that, living, she gratuitously made, and both were false. Jealous never hoped to reach! There (I said in my own dislike (which, in such a woman as Mrs. Cathe-heart)—there, if ever I have the power to will rick, would express itself in petty malice rather it, all that is mortal of her shall remain, and than not expices itself at all) appeared to me to share the grave-bed with the loved friend of her be the only assignable anse for the peculiar childhood, with the dear remembrance of her insolence of her reference to Mrs. Fairlie, under life. That rest shall be sacred-that companioncircumstances which did not necessitate any re-ship always undisturbed! ference at all.

So the ghostly figure which has haunted these The mention here of Mrs. Fairlie's name pages as it haunted my life, goes down into the

the wanderings of races, and shows the distant affinity existing between us and those dark people of the Indian peninsula, whom we have subjected by our Northern energy and strength. The word Oude appears to be derived from the Sanscrit a-yodhya, "not to be warred against" (a, not; yudh, fight). The word Goth, by which we designate one of the most important members of the great Teutonic family, probably comes from the Saxon guth (pronounced yuth), signifying "war, battle, fight," and this seems to have had its origin in the Sanscrit yudh, expressing, as we have just shown, the same idea. A kindred race to the Goths were the Jutes, otherwise called the Gytas, Ytas, Wights, Guuihts, &c.-words which seem to imply ravenous warriors." The Jutes settled in the

Gytaland; afterwards Wiht-land; and subsequently Wight, or the Isle of Wight. Jute is analogous with the syllable Joud, occurring in the name Joudpore, in India, and with the word Oude. Goth appears also to be from the same root as the Sacred Name, God; and Mr. Charnock pertinently remarks that "it is not improbable that the priminitive idea of God among the Goths was that of a warrior." The asserted affinity between the words Goth and Oude is supported by the fact that the Teutonic race originally migrated from the northern parts of India.

We have often been struck by a great want in all Gazetteers and books of geography: the absence of any explanation of the meanings of names of places. Books of local topography are generally more particular; but the want is delicate little island which now forms part of thus only very insufficiently supplied. The the county of Hants, and from them it derived names of all countries, towns, provinces, dis-its name. It was at first called Ytaland, or tricts, seas, rivers, &c., have a special signification, which frequently involves curious matters of history. Sometimes it may be difficult, or even impossible, to arrive at the meaning, owing to the extreme remoteness of the time at which the place in question received its title. But, in most cases, a conjecture can be formed; in many, the facts can be arrived at with certainty, by the aid of scholarship. It must be confessed, however, that a great deal of all etymology, whether of names of places or of more ordinary words, rests upon nothing better than guess-work; but the guesses are interesting in themselves. The inquiry into the A similar relationship between an English and meanings of names of places is a study deserving an Indian word has been asserted in connexion greater attention than has yet been bestowed on with the name Himalaya, applied to the great it. Such researches form the tributary streams range of mountains in the north of Hindostan. of history: they add to our knowledge of lan- Mr. Charnock simply describes the name as guage; indicate the migrations of races and the signifying "the abode of snow;" but we have progress of colonisation; preserve many wild seen it identified with our own native word legends of the past; remind us of extinct "heaven." Thus: Sanscrit (the ancient lancustoms and superstitions; point out the im-guage of India, and, according to some authoriprovements of science, by showing, in many instances, how natural defects of soil, situation, and climate, have been overcome or modified; and augment our interest in our own and foreign countries by revealing the deep impress of our common humanity, even on what at first appears like a set of purposeless sounds. We have been reading a book on this subject, published somewhat recently, and have jotted down a few points of general interest, which we propose to lay before the reader. The book in question is by Mr. Richard Stephen Charnock, F.S.A., and is entitled Local Etymology: a Derivative Dictionary of Geographical Names. It will require considerable enlargement in later editions; but, even as it stands, it suggests some curious and interesting topics to the philologist.

Who would suppose that any tie existed between the name of the Isle of Wight and that of the kingdom or province of Oude? The two places have half the world between them; the two words have not a letter in common; yet they are linked together in a very singular way. The derivation unfolds a remarkable instance of

ties, the noblest and most perfect tongue in the world), himala; Meso-Gothic, himins; Alemannic, himil; German, Swedish, and Danish, himmel; Old Norse, himin; Dutch, hemel; Anglo-Saxon, heofon; English, heaven. Whether this be a genuine or only a fanciful etymology we cannot pretend to say; but, at any rate, it is worth considering.

From the Himalayas let us pass, by a very wide leap, to the North Seas, the region of the Ultima Thule of the ancients. The meaning of "ultima" is clear to all, being simply Latin for "furthest." But what is "Thule ?" and where was that mysterious and awful island, beyond which, according to the Greeks and Romans, the earth ceased, and nothing more existed than a dark, wild, limitless ocean? According to Pliny, Solinus, and Mela, this tremendous country was that which we now call Iceland; but other allthorities will have it to have been Tilemark in Norway, Jutland, Newfoundland, Ireland, and Shetland. The last named, according to Ainsworth, was by seamen anciently called Thylensel, "the Isle of Thyle." One of the Shetland isles, called Foula, has likewise been suggested;

the ƒ being changed into th, which is not uncom- Our London readers must have often noticed, mon. Isidorus says that Thule derived its name in passing up the river, the two churches from the sun," because it here makes its summer of Fulham and Putney, which are so exactly solstice, and beyond it there is no day." Another etymology traces the name to a Greek word, signifying "afar;" which makes us think of Thomson's remote, dreamy line about the Hebrides,

the top of the waves." Some etymologists, of a poetical turn of mind, have derived the name of our island from Brutus the Trojan, the fabulous discoverer of the country, and founder of the British monarchy and race. Of this same Brutus, authentic history makes no mention; but some enthusiastic Welshmen, even to this

For ourselves, we shall always look on the fable with respect and affection, because it has been irradiated by the genius of Spenser in the Faerie Queene, and of Milton in his History of England. Milton simply repeats the story for the benefit of the poets, who, says he, will know how to make use of it. From this fable of Trojan Brutus, London derives its poetical name of Troynovant-" New Troy."

home, and speedily christened the tavern and the hill after his name. In time, a village grew about the wine-shop; and then arose the fortification which gave the French so much trouble in the Crimean war. Such, at least, is the narrative which was put forth at the time by the Gazette de France. The etymology of the name of our island-day, contend for the truth of the narration. Britain-suggests some curious considerations. The origin of the word seems to be lost in the remoteness of antiquity-a fact which brings very forcibly before the mind the singular union in this country of the most ancient traditions with the most vigorous manifestations of modern life and civilisation. Authorities differ as to the etymology of the name. Some say that it is Syriac, and means "land of tin;" some that it comes through a Greek channel from And Troynovant was built of Old Troy's ashes cold, the old Punic language, and has the same signification; others, again, that we are to says Spenser, in one of his fine, drowsy, murseek its origin in the Hebrew word bara, muring alexandrines. It is very pleasant to find to create, which, under certain grammatical this modern London of ours, with its ever-augmodifications, also means "to divide, separate, menting new streets of raw brick-and-mortar, its cut off." Shaw, in his History of Stafford- manufactories, its steam-boats, its railways, and shire, says: "Dr. Boerhaave, fond of chemistry, its youthful energies unsurpassed by the newest and willing to do honour to England, from settlement in the Far West,-thus linked with whence he had derived not a few guineas, old-world dreams and fables, with the romance asserts that, in Chaldee and Syriac, Brachmanac of antiquity, and with the city of which Homer means both the kingdom of Jupiter and of sang, and whose very existence has been doubted tin, which metal the chemists assigned to the by recent inquirers. The story is that Brutus, god; and that Britain may easily be derived the great grandson of Eneas, fled into Italy, therefrom." some time after the capture of Troy by the Greeks, and thence (being compelled by misfortune to become once more a wanderer) took to the open seas, and was directed, by a miraculous vision of the goddess Diana, to a great island in the north-west. Here he arrived in the course of time, named it after himself, conquered the giants by whom it had previously been filled, and, together with his followers,

That the word, whatever its remote parentage, comes to us from the aboriginal Celtic inhabitants of this island, the ancestors of the modern Welsh, seems pretty clear. In Welsh, brith or brit signifies" divers colours, spotted"-an allusion, as some maintain, to the custom which the ancient Britons had of staining their bodies with woad. Owen, in his Welsh Dictionary, fetches the name from "Pry-peopled it. dain (pryd), exhibiting presence, or cognisance; exhibiting an open or fair aspect; full of beauty, well-seeming, beautiful; polished or civilised, with respect to morals. Ynys Prydain, 'the fair island,' the isle of Britain.' . . Before it was inhabited, the Hord Gali used to call it, the water-girt Green Plat;' after obtaining it, the Honey Island; and, after Prydyn, son of Aez the Great, had obtained it, the Isle of Prydyn." The reader will of course exercise his judgment in accepting derivations which rest on such misty traditions; but it is amusing to note their existence.

Another etymology is from a British compound word, meaning "the top of the wave;" and Armstrong, in his Gaelic Dictionary, favours the supposition, and remarks that, "to perceive the force of this, one has merely to imagine himself viewing Britain across the Channel from the north coast of France, whence came our Celtic ancestors; that our island from that quarter seems a low, dark line, lying along the surface of the deep; and that no term could have been found more descriptive of that appearance than Braith-tonn, or Braith-tuinn (pronounced braitonn or braituinn), the land on

The etymology of the name London is equally obscure with that of Britain; some dozen guesses having been made by various philologists. There is little doubt, however, that the word is British, and very ancient, and that the Saxons only adopted what they found ready to their hand. A great many names of places in England and Scotland are British, the old terms lingering, and indeed obtaining a firm root, after the race who originated them has given way to another and more vigorous stock. In the same manner, we find that in America the aboriginal Red Indian names of places still exist in some instances, though the Red Indians themselves are dying out in the backwoods, and Smith, Brown, Jones, and Robinson have long succeeded to their lands.

Words are the most vital and the most imperishable of man's creations. As they are mysterious in their origin, so have they something of an awful force and intensity of life, which gives to them a perpetuity beyond the decay of races and the revolutions of empires. They spring from some primal instinct of truth, some deep perception of human necessities; and in the darkness of their begin