really a puzzling study for one who wishes to make him self acquainted with the elementary principles of things. In short, the nickname oblique resembles the great river, the Nile its meanders are equally extensive; its source is equally concealed. We have a specimen of this species in the appellation of our worthy Secretary. Mr. Golightly made a pleasant, though a sufficiently obvious hit, when he addressed Mr. Richard Hodgson by the familiar abbreviation of Pam. We should recommend to the professors of the nickname oblique, two material, though much neglected, requisites-simplicity and perspicuity; for, in spite of the long and attentive study which we have devoted to this branch of the art, we ourselves have been frequently puzzled by unauthorized corruptions both of sound and sense, and lost amidst the circuitous labyrinth of a far-fetched præncmen. We were much embarrassed by hearing our good friend, Mr. Peter Snaggs, addressed by the style of "Fried Soles," until we remembered that his grandfather had figured as a violent Methodist declaimer in the me tropolis: nor could we conceive by what means our old associate, Mr. Matthew Dunstan, had obtained his classical title of Forceps, until we recollected the miraculous attack made by the tongs of his prototype upon the nasal orifices of his Satanic antagonist.

The third species is derived from an implied excellence in any one specified study. It is known by the sign"The." Thus, The Whistler, in Tales of My Landlord, is so called from his having excelled all others in the polished and fashionable art of whistling. When we call Mr. Ouzel "the blockhead," we are far from asserting that he is the only blockhead among our wellbeloved companions, but merely that he holds that title from undisputed superlative merit; and, when we distinguish Sampson Noll by the honourable designation of "The Nose," we mean not to allege that Mr. Noll is the only person who challenges admiration, from the extra

ordinary dimensions of that feature, but simply, that Sampson's nose exceeds, by several degrees of longitude, the noses of his less distinguished competitors.

We know not, however, whether the species which we are discussing is not rather to be considered a ramification of the first, than a separate class in itself; for it unavoidably happens that the two kinds are frequently confused, and that we know not under which head to arrange a name which is of an ambiguous nature, and may be referred with equal propriety to either definition.

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The fourth and last kind is promiscuously derived from sources similar to those of the three preceding; but in its formation it entirely reverses their provisions. We all know that a grove was called by the Latins “lucus;” -a non lucendo,-that the Præses of the Lower House of Parliament is called by us, " Speaker," because he is not allowed to speak. Such is the system of the nickname which is at present under consideration; it is applied to its object, not from the qualities which he possesses, but from those which he does not; not from the actions which he has performed, but from those which he has not in short contrariety is its distinguishing character, and absurdity its principal merit.-Antiquity will ply us with several admirable specimens. Ptolemy murdered his brother, and was called "Philadelphus." The Furies, to say the best of them, were spiteful old maids, and they were nicknamed "The Benevolent." In our times it is certainly in more general use than any other class; nor is this to be wondered at, when we consider the extraordinary neatness of irony which is with great facility couched under it. It has been well observed by some French author, whose name has escaped our memory, that if you call Vice by her own name, she laughs at you; but if you address her by the name of Virtue, she blushes. To give a plainer illustration,-if you say to Ouzel-Blockhead, it is an unregarded truth; if you cry out to him, Genius, it is a biting sarcasm. Nothing,

indeed, can be imagined more malignantly severe than this weapon of irony, exercised with skill, and pointed with malevolence; no satire is more easy to the assailant, and more painful to the assailed, than that which gives to deformity the praise of beauty, and designates absurdity by the title of Absolute Wisdom.

We lately had the honour of reckoning among our nearest and dearest friends Dr. Simon Colley, a gentleman who was as estimable for the excellent qualities of his mind, as he was ridiculous from the whimsical proportions of his body. Must we give a description of our much-lamented friend? If the reader will collect together the various personal defects of all his acquaintance, -if he will add the lameness of one to the diminutive stature of another, if he will unite the cast of the eye which designates a third, to the departure from the rectilineal line which beautifies the back of a fourth, he will then have some faint idea of the bodily perfections of Dr. Simon Colley. The Doctor was perfectly conscious of his peculiarities, and was frequently in the habit of choosing his corporal appearance as the theme of a hearty laugh, or the subject of jocular lamentation; yet the sound sense and cultivated philosophy of our respected friend was not proof against the unexpected vociferation of a well-applied nickname; and although his favourite topic of conversation was the personat resemblance he bore to the renowned Esop, he flew into the most violent paroxysms of rage when he was pointed at by some little impertinents, as the Apollo Belvidere.

But this sort of nickname is not used merely as the instrument of wit, or the weapon of ill-nature; it assumes occasionally a more serious garb, and becomes the language of flattery, or the adulation of hypocrisy. In this form it is of great service in dedicatory epistles and professions of love. When Vapid entreats Lord

to prefix his name to a list of subscribers, he whines out the praises of his "Maecenas," with all the mournful

earnestness with which a criminal exalts the clemency of his judge; but the manner in which he chuckles at the munificence of his patron over a beef-steak at the Crown and Cushion, proves very evidently that Vapid is a hypocrite, and that "Mæcenas" is a nickname. And when Miss Pimpkinson, a maiden lady with 40,000l., smiles upon the adoration of Sir Horace Conway, a fashionable without a farthing, she little dreams that "Venus," which is her title in the boudoir, is only her nickname at the club.

Having now presented our friends with a cursory sketch of these four principal classes, we shall sum up the whole by offering to the reader a specimen in which we lately heard the four kinds admirably blended together. "Toup," cried "All the Talents," tell Swab' that I have a thrashing in store for The Poet.'" "Toup" is the nickname oblique, borne by its possessor in consequence of some supposed relation between the longitude of his physiognomy and the Longinus of the erudite Toupius. Swab" is the nickname direct, applied to a rotund gentleman. "The Poet," is xar' ἐξοχὴν oxy; "the poet," because he is supereminently poetical: and "All the Talents" is xat" ávτippaσiv; the Talents," because he is the veriest blockhead upon the face of our Etonian hemisphere.

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It will be needless to enumerate the many minor classes of this important subject; it will be needless to dwell upon the nickname classical, the nickname clerical, the nickname military, and the nickname bargee; as we believe that no specimen of these is to be found which may not be ranked under one of the preceding descriptions. There is, however, one great and extensive species remaining, to which we shall here give only a brief notice, as we may possibly, at some future period, devote a leading article to its consideration,-we mean the nickname general. This last-mentioned class claims our attention, from the comprehensive range of its operation.

It is not applied to the mental foibles or personal defects of a single object; it does not attack the failings of a solitary individual; it wastes not the lash of censure on an isolated instance of absurdity,-but it inflicts a wound upon thousands in a moment, and stamps the mark of ridicule upon numberless victims. The Quizzes, the Prigs, the Marines, the Chaises, are, amongst our alumni, well-known examples of the nickname general.

But we have too long lost sight of the main object of our present lucubration, which was, the recommendation of this art to our fellow-citizens, as a commendable, though much-neglected study. When we say muchneglected, we mean not that nicknames have ceased to be the rage, and are falling into disuse (for certainly there never was an age in which they spread more luxuriantly); but we allude to the lamentable decay of imagination and ingenuity in their formation. If we look back to ancient times, we shall find, that, in those days, nicknames were derived from the same sources as in the present age; they had their origin from natural defects, from personal deformities; yet how amazingly do the cognomina of antiquity exceed in elegance and taste the nicknames of more modern date. How wonderfully are the "Chicken," the "Shanks," the "Nosey," of Etonian celebrity surpassed by the " Pullus," the "Scaurus," the "Cicero," of Roman literature. It is a disgrace upon the genius of our generation, that, at a time when other arts have arrived at such a high perfection that our age may almost be considered the Augustan age of the world, the art of nicknames should have totally lost the classical polish for which it was in the olden time so eminently remarkable, until it has sunk into the vehicle of vulgar abuse, neither adorned by wit nor chastened by urbanity.

These considerations have induced us to give our most serious attention to the advancement and improvement of the art. We are confident that our researches