e proof that it was so in the titles
themselves. Is not the title, _As You Like It_, a confession that he had
bitten his quill until he was tired of the vain search for a name? And what
is _Twelfth Night: or What You Will_ but an evidence that he could not hit
upon any name that would fit the most joyous offspring of his genius?

What parent does not know the same agony? To name a child, to give him a
sign that shall go with him to his grave, and that shall fit that mystery
of the cradle which time and temptation and trial shall alone reveal--_hoc
opus, hic labor est_. Many fail by starting from false grounds--fashion,
ambition, or momentary interest. Perhaps the little stranger arrives with
the news of a battle, or when a popular novel appears, or at a moment when
you are under the influence of some austere or heroic name. And forgetful
that it is the child that has to bear the burden of your momentary impulse,
you call him Inkerman Jones, or Kitchener Smith, or Milton Spinks.

And so he is started on his journey, like a little historical memory, or
challenging comparison with some hero of fact or fable. Perhaps Milton
Spinks grows up bow-legged and commonplace--all Spinks and no Milton. As
plain John he would pass through life happy and unnoticed, but the great
name of Milton hangs about him like a jest from which he can never
escape--no, not even in the grave, for it will be continued there until the
lichen has covered the name on the headstone with stealthy and kindly
oblivion.

It is a good rule, I think, to avoid the fanciful in names. So few of our
children are going to be heroes or sages that we should be careful not to
stamp them with the mark of greatness at the outset of the journey. Horatio
was a happy stroke for Nelson, but how few Horatios win immortality, or
deserve it! And how disastrous if Horatio turns out a knave and a coward!
If young Spinks has any Miltonic fire within him, it will shine through
plain John more naturally and lustrously than through any borrowed
patronymic. You may be as humble as you like, and John will fit you: as
illustrious as you like, and John will blaze as splendid as your deeds,
linking you with that great order of nobility of which John Milton, John
Hampden, and John Bright are types.

I had written thus far when it occurred to me that I had still my own name
to choose and that soon the whistle of the postman would be heard in the
street. I went out into the orchard to tak