Mary, could assert with her nominal prototype that “All generations shall call me blessed”? Her name is written in blood; and “Bloody Mary” she will be styled from English lips, till the Reformation be branded as a mistake, and its heroes as fools. I have laid stress,—nay, I have dwelt lingeringly,—on these now quaint and old-mannered names for a particular reason. How many of my readers there must be who, without realizing the causes, are conscious of the fact that the Christian names of our cousins across the Atlantic, and those of ourselves, are marked by a certain divergence. When the Pilgrim Fathers set forth from Plymouth and Bristol, they bore with them their Puritan cognomens; and there, in Virginia and all the east border of the great States, they are established nearly as firmly to-day as they were in England two hundred years ago. Take up an American story, and in the names of its heroines you can tell, not only their nationality, but the writer’s also. “Faith,” and “Hope,” and “Patience,” and “Grace” are still their favourite titles. Nor is this a mere accident. If we turn to Mr. Hottens’ list of emigrants between 1600 and 1700, we find such names to have been of everyday occurrence. In the same family we find such trios as “Love Brewster,” “Fear Brewster,” and “Patience Brewster” quitting our shores. We find a brother and sister registered as “Hopestill Foster” and “Patience Foster;” while such entries as “Perseverance Green,” “Desire Minter,” “Revolt Vincent,” “Joye Spark,” “Remember Allerton,” and “Remembrance Tibbott” greet one at every turn. In such titles as these—“Hope-still,” “Remember,” “Remembrance,” “Desire,” “Patience,” and “Perseverance”—our minds are inevitably thrown back to those days of religious persecution, while we seem to be bidding these travellers God-speed on their distant and uncertain journey from the pierhead as the good ship lifts her anchor; and we can detect in the heart of the emigrant that mingled tide of hope and fear, trust and regret, confidence in the future united with a fond and lingering looking back, which still abides unbanished,—in spite of occasional tall talk,—from the American’s heart. He is proud of his land, but he does not forget the old country. No man so proud of making a name for himself as he; and yet no man so proud of tracing his pedigree back to a name that has been already made for him generations ago on England’s soil! In the twofold title of “Hopestill” and “Remembrance” still lives all that speaks of reverence in America’s past and expectation for America’s future.