e the
chief part of our northern population (and indeed, if his hypothesis
could be correct, we must suppose all the ancient worshippers of Odin),
are of the same origin as the Etrurians. And why, Kitty,--I just ask
you, why?"

My mother shook her head thoughtfully, and turned the frock to the other
side of the light.

"Because, forsooth," cried my father, exploding,--"because the Etrurians
called their gods the 'AEsar,' and the Scandinavians called theirs the
'AEsir,' or 'Aser'! And where do you think this adventurous scholar puts
their cradle?"

"Cradle!" said my mother, dreamily, "it must be in the nursery."

MR. CAXTON.--"Exactly,--in the nursery of the human race, just here,"
and my father pointed to the globe; "bounded, you see, by the river
Halys, and in that region which, taking its name from Ees, or As (a
word designating light or fire), has been immemorially called Asia. Now,
Kitty, from Ees, or As, our ethnological speculator would derive not
only Asia, the land, but AEsar, or Aser, its primitive inhabitants.
Hence he supposes the origin of the Etrurians and the Scandinavians. But
if we give him so much, we must give him more, and deduce from the same
origin the Es of the Celt and the Ized of the Persian, and--what will
be of more use to him, I dare say, poor man, than all the rest put
together--the AEs of the Romans,--that is, the God of Copper-money--a
very powerful household god he is to this day!"

My mother looked musingly at her frock, as if she were taking my
father's proposition into serious consideration.

"So perhaps," resumed my father, "and not unconformably with sacred
records, from one great parent horde came all those various tribes,
carrying with them the name of their beloved Asia; and whether they
wandered north, south, or west, exalting their own emphatic designation
of 'Children of the Land of Light' into the title of gods. And to think"
(added Mr. Caxton pathetically, gazing upon that speck on the globe on
which his forefinger rested),--"to think how little they changed for
the better when they got to the Don, or entangled their rafts amidst the
icebergs of the Baltic,--so comfortably off as they were here, if they
could but have stayed quiet."

"And why the deuce could not they?" asked Mr. Squills. "Pressure of
population, and not enough to live upon, I suppose," said my father.

PISISTRATUS (sulkily).--"More probably they did away with the Corn Laws,
sir."

"Papae!" quoth my