or elevated spot, and it was applied to a number of three persons.* There is a curious passage in the Laxdæla Saga,' in which King Olave tells the rebellious Drontheimers that he thought he might be ready for harder work than a fight with a parcel of rustics or mere peasants (thorpara) at Drontheim.' We hesitate to admit the distinction assumed by our author when he says that this suffix is very useful, as enabling us to discriminate between the settlements of the Danes and those of the Norwegians. That the word was an Icelandic one we know: it is used in the Edda, in the sense of a dwelling: that it was common in Norway, we may assume from the passage just referred to, and, besides this, we consider it to be clear that the old language of Norway, Sweden, and Denmark was substantially one and the same, identical with the tongue yet preserved in Iceland. This same remark, perhaps, applies to what is said on the word 'toft,' which Mr. Taylor speaks of as 'distinctively Danish and East Anglian.' It is, no doubt, as he says, like 'By' and "Thorpe,' an indication of permanent colonisation, from the very nature of the idea which it expresses. Jonsson in his 'Icelandic Dictionary' gives it as 'Topt now Tótt;' Tupt' is another form which is used in the 'Laxdæla Saga' for the site of a dock or mound formerly thrown up round a ship; Egilsson defines the word as 'area ædificii cum parietibus.' This is almost precisely the sense which it bears in English law. A messuage 'is land with a building on it; 'a toft' is the land when that building has fallen into decay. In some of the old Northern laws it assumes the form tompt.' † These forms approximate to the Welsh word 'twmp,' signifying a mound or hillock, which is often applied to spots where the keep of an old castle, or a house now destroyed, has formerly stood. Thus we have in Herefordshire 'Wormelow tump,' and other instances. In Normandy, this root meets us as 'tot,' in 'Yvetot,' 'Lilletot,' Berquetot.' We are sceptical as to the derivation of the Norman suffix 'ville' from the German 'weiler,' for we do not see how the Teutonic word could have got into the district where we find it used after the Normans were established there. Where this German term is still current, it signifies a cluster of a few houses; something less than a Dorf,' or village. Adelung says that it is without doubt derived from the Latin villare,' which is defined in Ducange as a hamlet of ten or twelve houses. The fact Egilsson, 'Lexicon Poet.,' in v. 'Here See Hill v. Grange, 1 Plowd. 170-quoted in the notes to Blackstone; v. ii. p. 19. Compare Grimm, 'Deutsche Rechtsalterthümer,' s. 539. fordshire Glossary,' in v. 'Tump.' that that charters were generally in Latin, is sufficient to account for its adoption; and thus we can explain the form Villiers' which so often meets us. 6 Thwaite' is said to be a distinctive Norwegian suffix, and to be frequent in that country as well as in Cumberland. The original meaning was that of a cleared spot in a forest. The word beck' for brook,' and 'force' for waterfall,' are both of Norse origin; and like 'fell' for 'hill' prevail in the North of England. In Norse names the suffixford,' generally represents the Icelandic fiörðr' or 'firth,' an arm of the sea. Thus Waterford, in Ireland, has nothing to do with either water, or ford, in the English sense. The name given it by the Northern pirates was 'Vedra fiördr,' or 'the Firth of Rams (wethers).' * The Anglo-Saxon 'wic' was a town or dwelling, and it may be probably the same word as the Icelandic vik,' a small creek or bay. Mr. Taylor remarks very justly that the inland wicks' in English names are generally of Saxon origin, whilst those on the coast denote the stations of the sea-rovers of Scandinavia. The difference between a 'vik' and a 'fiörðr' is well shown by an Icelandic proverb, which says that there ought to be a creek (vik) between friends, and a firth (fiördr) between kinsmen: that is to say, a man may live too near his relations, but cannot be too near his friends. The suffixwich' in certain counties denotes the presence of salt works. On this point Mr. Taylor says: 'The names of Northwich, Middlewich, Nantwich, Droitwich, Netherwich, Shirleywich, Wickham, and perhaps of Warwick, although inland places, are derived indirectly from the Norse vik, a bay, and not from the Anglo-Saxon wic, a village. All these places are noted for the production of salt, which was formerly obtained by the evaporation of sea-water in shallow wiches or "bays," as the word "baysalt" testifies. Hence a place for making salt came to be called a "wych-house," and Nantwich, Droitwich, and other places where rocksalt was found, took their names from the wych-house built for its preparation.'-p. 170. This explanation of the suffix 'wich' is ingenious; but we doubt very much whether it will be thought satisfactory. Baysalt has been derived from Bayonne, but we know not with what reason. From the statement in Mr. Ormerod's History of Cheshire,' it appears clear that the 'Wiches,' as they were called, bore this name at a very early period. The three places specially named in' Domesday Book,' as then possessing settled customs and laws, were Middlewich, Nantwich, and Northwich. Drayton speaks particularly of the two last: The bracky fountains are those two renowned wyches, The historian of Cheshire himself says, 'These three assemblages of salt-waters appear for some centuries to have been exclusively denominated "the Wiches," a name which cannot be supposed to have originally any meaning beyond "vic" or "vicus;" but which is nevertheless generally appended to the names of places where salt has been made from brine or from the evaporation of the sea-water.' It certainly seems improbable that the stations of this particular branch of industry should have derived their ordinary name from a word of such a general meaning as 'vik,' a creek, applied as it was all round our coasts to the harbours of the Northern pirates. If, indeed, any trace of such special sense connected with salt could be found in Scandinavia, the case would be different; but, as it is, we think the obvious reference to the Saxon 'wic' not less plausible than Mr. Taylor's conjecture. To return, however, to the Danes: London,' says our author, 'was repeatedly besieged by the Danes. With the hope of capturing the rich and unrifled prize, their fleets lay below the city for many months together. Their stations were at Deptford, "the deep fiord;" at Greenwich, "the green reach;" and at Woolwich," the hill reach," so called apparently from its being overhung by the conspicuous landmark of Shooter's Hill. The spits and headlands, which mark the navigation of the Thames and the adjacent coasts, almost all bear characteristic Norse names-such as the Foreness, the Whiteness, Shelliness, Sheerness, Shoeburyness, Foulness, Wrabness, Orfordness, and the Naze, near Harwich. On the Essex coast we find Danesey Flats, Langenhoe, and Arlesford; Dengey Hundred in the south-east of Essex is spelt Daneing in a charter of Edward the Confessor.'-pp. 171, 172. It is a curious fact that one of the most northern portions of the British Isles should be called 'Sutherland,' and we see at once that this name was given to it by those who lived farther north themselves, and came to it from that region. The proportion of Scandinavian names in the several counties of England is very different. In Lincolnshire it is as 165 to 1 in Kent. We have abundant instances of the Danish words 'ö' and 'holm,' applied to islands. The first of these monosyllables is the suffix in Jersey, Guernsey, and Alderney; and we find the Steep and Flat Holms in the Bristol Channel. The Rape of Bramber,' in * Ormerod's' Cheshire,' p. xlvi. Sussex, Sussex, yet preserves the memory of the old Icelandic division of land by Hreppar.' In fact, the verb 'rebe' in Danish still means 'to measure out' or 6 survey,' and is derived from the use of the 'reb' or rope for that purpose. It may be that the 'hide' of land, in like manner, points to its measurement by a thong; and thus recalls the story of Byrsa: "Taurino quantum possent circumdare tergo." But we must forbear from dwelling longer on the traces of the Northmen in England, France, and the rest of Europe. That secondary invasion of this conquering race which came upon England from Normandy has left its memorials, not so much in any change of language, or in the creation of many new local names, as in the addition of certain personal surnames of great Norman families to words of Saxon origin. Such are the cases of Ashby-de-la-Zouche, Acton-Turville, Barton-Segrave, BurtonHastings, Burton-Latimer, Drayton-Bassett, Hurst-Monceaux, Melton-Mowbray, Norton-Mandeville, Woodham-Ferrers, and many more sown broadcast over the land. There are, however, a few names of Norman origin of a different kind, such as Boltonle-Moor, Poulton-le-Sand, and Beaudesert. Mr. Taylor's chapter on the street names of London and on the houses occupied by historic families is interesting and instructive, but we have not space to quote from it. The episcopal dignity of Ely Place and Salisbury Square, now long forgotten, might be illustrated by the curious degradation of the palace of the Bishop of Winchester in Paris into the prison of Bicêtre. The streets south of the Strand preserve the memory of the families of Devereux and Howard, and of the palaces and gardens which fringed the shore of the Thames between the Fleet Ditch and the village of Charing. Some localities, such as Lombard Street, have retained the same business which originally gave them their name. Somerset House, after being called 'Denmark House,' as the dowry-house of Queen Anne, the wife of James I., has regained its more ancient appellation. It was transferred by Act of Parliament to the nation in exchange for Buckingham House, in the reign of George III. It is to be expected that proper names of places should often preserve the record of historical events. Thus we find close to the field of Thrasymene the brook still called Sanguineto, although the Plain of Ossaia is very doubtful.* The Leichfeld, near Augsburg, marks the victory of the Emperor Otho over the Huns. Battlefield near Shrewsbury, and Battle in Sussex, denote in like manner the places where two combats memorable * See 'Smith's Dictionary of Greek and Roman Geography,' vol. i. p. 1222, &c. in in English history occurred, and the Battle Flats' near Stamford-bridge bear a testimony of the same kind. It is worth while to add a few observations on the curious process by which names of places are sometimes transformed in the mouths of a people to whom the original elements composing them have become unintelligible. The attempt is always made to assimilate these elements to sounds which bear some sort of meaning to the ears of those who now use them, as if men were conscious of the fact that proper names were not originally arbitrary. One example of this process has been given already in the name Waterford,' where the syllables substituted for the original name resemble it in sound, but differ entirely in sense. Another instance is that of Barmouth,' which sounds plausible enough when applied to the mouth of a river, but which is really a corruption into sense of the Welsh name 'Aber Mawddach,' the name of the stream which there falls into the sea. This sort of change goes on constantly in Canada, where a French population gives way more or less to English settlers. Thus a spot on the Ottawa, formerly called 'les Chéneaux,' or the Channels,' has become in pronunciation the Snows.' Another, which for some reason or other was named 'les Chats,' is rapidly becoming 'the Shaws;' a third, 'les Joachims,' is by this time nearly transformed into the Swashings.' 6 The instances given at p. 412 of Mr. Taylor's work are of the same kind. Ance des Cousins,' the Creek of Mosquitoes, was converted by the sailors into Nancy Cousin's Bay; Soracte has become St. Oreste, and Setubal St. Ubes; Chateauvert' became Shotover Hill,' and Burgh Walter,' Bridgewater. A river in New Brunswick, of which the Indian name is 'the Petamkediac' (said to mean 'a river in white-birch land'), is popularly known as the Tom Kedgewick,' who will no doubt be supposed hereafter to be the eponymous hero of the stream. Sometimes indeed, as in this last case, it can hardly be said that the altered name has any sense of its own; it is enough if it sounds like English. Thus a hill near the head of the Bay of Fundy, which is now called Shepody Mountain,' is supposed to have derived its Acadian name from the mass of clouds which frequently hung over it (Chapeau Dieu, or God's hat); and this derivation has some plausibility when we remember the old Devonshire rhyme See Notes and Queries,' 1st Series, v. xi., p. 511. A 'skat of rain' means a smart shower. We |