The names of places which retain a record of Ðunor are not very numerous, but some are found: among them _Thundersfield_, Ðunresfeld, in Surrey[646]; _Thundersley_, Ðunresleáh, in Essex, near Saffron Walden; _Thundersley_, Ðunresleáh, also in Essex, near Raylegh, and others in Hampshire[647]. Near Wanborough in Surrey is _Thursley_, which may have been a Ðunresleáh also: it is unlikely that it was ever Ðóresleáh, from Ðórr (the Norse form of Ðunor), but it might have been Ðyrsleáh, the meadow of the giant or monster. Very near Thursley is a hill called _Thunder hill_, probably Ðunres hyl. A similar uncertainty hangs over _Thurleigh_ in Bedfordshire, _Thurlow_ in Essex, _Thursby_ in Cumberland, _Thursfield_ in Staffordshire, and _Thursford_ in Norfolk[648]. The name of Ðunor was, to the best of my knowledge, never borne by any man among the Anglosaxons, which is in some degree an evidence of its high divinity. The only apparent exception to this assertion is found in an early tale which bears throughout such strong marks of a mythical character as to render it probable that some legend of Ðunor was current in England; especially as its locality is among the Jutish inhabitants of Kent. According to this account, Ecgbert the son of Eorcenberht, the fourth Christian king of Kent, had excluded his cousins from the throne, and fearing their popularity determined on removing them by violence. The thane Thuner divined and executed the intentions of his master. Under the king’s own throne were the bodies concealed; but a light from heaven which played about the spot revealed the crime: the king paid to their sister the wergyld of the slain princes: a hind, let loose, defined the boundaries of the grant which was to make compensation for the murder: forty-eight hides of land thus became the property of Domneva, and the repentant king erected upon them a monastery. The assassin Thuner, however, added to his guilt the still higher atrocity of sneering at the king’s repentance and its fruits: the earth suddenly opened beneath his feet and swallowed him; while the church placed the names of his victims, Æðelred and Æðelberht, on the list of its martyrs. Any comment upon this, as a historical transaction, would be perfectly superfluous, but it may possibly contain some allusion of a mythological nature; for it seems that the very fact of Ðunor’s not being a god generally worshiped in England, would render him likely to form the foundation of heroic stories. I will not absolutely say that the dragon-slaughter of Beówulf is a direct reference to the myth of Ðunor, though this is possible. Another hero of Anglosaxon tradition bears the name of the “Wandering Wolf;” he slew five-and-twenty dragons at daybreak, “on dæg-ræd;” and fell dead from their poison, as Thórr does after slaying Midgard’s orm, and Beówulf after his victory over the firedrake. The wolf however is a sacred beast of Wóden, and these names of Wandering wolf, Mearcwulf, etc. may have