Then, too, if families are large and have endless branches, great confusion is caused by each separate Paterfamilias having one of these names among his flock. Cousins very often stay in the same house, and come to visit each other, and if there are ten Miss Elizabeth Smiths and these happen to be staying together, how are their letters to be distinguished? The possession of similar initials in families has made mischief enough; the possession of similar names can make twice as much again. In naming a boy we must think whether he can be made miserable at school by having either a grand or girlish name, which the young fiends, his schoolfellows, can turn into something to his disadvantage, and, if possible, the younger sons should always have some good surname before the family name; this will enable them to keep distinct. For example, if the eldest son is called Charles Robinson (not that I should call any boy such a frightful name), his next brother can be called John Smith Robinson (supposing his mother’s name to have been Smith), while the third could be William Brown Robinson, thus marking the distinct families at once, and allowing the sons of the holders of these names to have the double name, and perhaps the aristocratic hyphen, satirised by Corney Grain, which is so dear to the heart of the ordinary suburban resident, while it is not a bad plan to give the girls their surname as well as a pretty Christian-name at baptism. This would allow people to trace pedigrees easily were it a universal custom, and would be of great assistance in writing the family history we ought one and all of us to possess, for it is astonishing how much we are helped in our attempt to bring up our children if we have any knowledge of our forbears, and can trace in any way the habits and occupations of those from whom we have sprung. Having settled on the child’s name and registered it before we tell our relations and friends, the impossibility of making a change saving endless painful and unprofitable discussions, the next thing is to decide on the god-parents. As a rule this is a mere form, but of course it should not be so. A god-parent necessarily sends a more or less handsome present at the time of the christening, comes to the ceremony if he or she can, and then forgets all about the child. But this, I repeat, should never be. The god-parents should keep up a friendly intercourse with their god-children; they should know where they are, what they are doing; they should most undoubtedly be present at the confirmation ceremony, and they should always at Christmas either write to their god-children, send one of those useful and pretty cards, which I trust will never go out of fashion, or else give some little gift that does not cost much, while it makes the link between them very real, and gives some meaning to a position that at present would often be more honoured in the breach than in the observance.