dar, or the chokedar eating the tiger, I am not sure--I rather
think the latter. However, in Wales one is always glad to have some
distinguishing appellation to prefix to the name of Jones. If a man's
godfathers and godmothers have the forethought to christen him
"Mountstewart Jones," or "Fitzhardinge Jones" (I knew such instances of
cognominal anticlimax), then it was all very well--no mistake about the
individuality of such fortunate people. But "Tom Joneses" and "Bob
Joneses" were no individuals at all. They were classes, and large
classes; and had to be again distinguished into "Little Bob Joneses" and
"Long Bob Joneses." Or if there happened to be nothing sufficiently
characteristic in the personal appearance of the rival Joneses, then
was he fortunate who had no less complimentary additions to his style
and title than what might be derived from the name of his location, or
the nature of his engagements. These honours were often hereditary--nay,
sometimes descended in the female line. We hear occasionally, in
England, of "Mrs Doctor Smith," and "Mrs Major Brown;" and absurd as it
is, one does comprehend by intuition that it was the gentleman and not
the lady who was the ten-year man at Cambridge, or the commandant of
the Boggleton yeomanry; but few besides a Welshman would have learned,
without a smile, that "Mrs Jones the officer" was the relict of the late
tide-waiter at Glyndewi, or that the quiet, modest little daughter of
the town-clerk of B---- was known to her intimates as "Miss Jones the
lawyer." Luckily our friend the Tiger was a bachelor; it would have been
alarming to a nervous stranger at the Glyndewi ball, upon inquiring the
name of the young lady with red hair and cat's eyes, to have been
introduced incontinently to "Miss Jones the tiger."

The Tiger himself was a well-disposed animal; somewhat given to solitary
prowling, like his namesakes in a state of nature, but of most
untigerlike and facetious humour. He generally marched into Glyndewi
after an early breakfast, and from that time until he returned to
his "mutton" at five, might be seen majestically stalking up and down
the extreme edge of the terrace, looking at the fishing-boats, and
shaking--_not_ his tail, for, as all stout gentlemen seemed to think it
their duty to do by the sea-side, he wore a round jacket. From the time
that we began our new pursuits, he took to us amazingly--called us
his "dear lads"--offered bets to any amount that we sho