it arises we shall see on remembering that it still goes
on in its original form, even when no longer needful. I do not refer
only to the significant fact that in some parts of England, as in the
nail-making districts, nicknames are general, and surnames little
recognized; but I refer to a common usage among both children and
adults. The rude man is apt to be known as "a bear;" a sly fellow, as
"an old fox;" a hypocrite, as "the crocodile." Names of plants, too, are
used; as when the red-haired boy is called "carrots" by his
school-fellows. Nor do we lack nicknames derived from inorganic objects
and agents: instance that given by Mr. Carlyle to the elder
Sterling--"Captain Whirlwind." Now, in the earliest savage state, this
metaphorical naming will in most cases commence afresh in each
generation--must do so, indeed, until surnames of some kind have been
established. I say in most cases, because there will occur exceptions in
the cases of men who have distinguished themselves. If "the Wolf,"
proving famous in fight, becomes a terror to neighbouring tribes, and a
dominant man in his own, his sons, proud of their parentage, will not
let fall the fact that they descended from "the Wolf"; nor will this
fact be forgotten by the rest of the tribe who hold "the Wolf" in awe,
and see reason to dread his sons. In proportion to the power and
celebrity of "the Wolf" will this pride and this fear conspire to
maintain among his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, as well as
among those over whom they dominate, the remembrance of the fact that
their ancestor was "the Wolf". And if, as will occasionally happen, this
dominant family becomes the root of a new tribe, the members of this
tribe will become known to themselves and others as "the Wolves".

We need not rest satisfied with the inference that this inheritance of
nicknames _will_ take place. There is proof that it _does_ take place.
As nicknaming after animals, plants, and other objects, still goes on
among ourselves, so among ourselves does there go on the descent of
nicknames. An instance has come under my own notice on an estate in the
West Highlands, belonging to some friends with whom I frequently have
the pleasure of spending a few weeks in the autumn. "Take a young
Croshek," has more than once been the reply of my host to the inquiry,
who should go with me, when I was setting out salmon-fishing. The elder
Croshek I knew well; and supposed that this name, borne by him an