&c. By, which is a Danish termination, is, in accordance with our previous remarks, chiefly found along the coast, as Whitby, Selby, Hunmanby, &c.

Evidence of the language of the ancient and powerful Brigantian race is decisively stamped on the names of the Yorkshire rivers; some of these derivations we subjoin as being suggestive and full of poetry:

The same remark is applicable to the names of mountains; Penyghent, Penhill, and Pendle-hill being all traceable to the same root.

Tumuli (or old burial heaps) are generally termed "hows" throughout Yorkshire. Heather is spoken of as "ling." Whin is "gorse" or "furze." 66 'Thorpe" is a small farm or hamlet; and in the east, "wyke" is a little bay; "grip" a small drain; and "griff," a narrow, rugged glen. A Yorkshire "tyke" is a well-known expression, signifying now a sharp cunning fellow, but, in its original acceptation, an old horse. "Teeastril" is a villain or rascal a broad striped pattern is "breead ratched"; to scold is to "flyte." A "gowpin" is a double-handful; a "reeking creak" + is the crook suspended from the beam within the old wide chimney by which to suspend pots or pans. "He toomed and toomed, but never typed," would be that a man swayed, (or nearly overbalanced) but did not fall over. Ask is dry or

* i. e. braid stretched.

"Reek" is the Yorkshire term for "smoke."

hard, "clarty" is sticky. "It is a soft day," means a wet day. "Draff" is used for grains indifferently the sediment of rivers or floods is called "warp;" ""dree" means long, and "dowly," dismal; to "fettle off" a horse, garden, or gate, is to trim them up; "dench" signifies over-fastidious. "Thou art a feckless sluthergullion" (i.e., fingerless slovenly lounger, a maligner), we heard an old woman exclaim: "And thou art the illest contrived auld wife i' the toon," was the retort. Sometimes the diminutives have the same character as the Scotch; thus "plummock" is a little plum. One day two young lads were busy robbing an orchard; one was aloft in a damson plum-tree, pulling the fruit at random and throwing them below to his comrade; the other at the foot was engaged in hot haste, stuffing them into his pockets, and from time to time hurriedly bolting one down his throat. Silence and expedition being imperatively incumbent in the situation, the first had not much time to select which to gather, nor the other which to put into his mouth. Suddenly the lad below inquired fearfully of the one above, "Tom, has plummocks footlikins (ie., little feet)?" "Nooa," roared Tom. "Then," said Bill, with a manly despair, "then I ha' swallowed a straddly-beck." Now, a straddly-beck is a frog, from straddle to stride over, and beck, a ditch or rivulet.-Cornhill Magazine.

SAXON WORDS.

OLD Saxon words, old Saxon words, your spells are round us thrown,

Ye haunt our daily paths and dreams with a music all your own;

Each one, in its own power a host, to fond remembrance brings

The earliest, brightest aspect back to life's familiar

things.

S. VI.

M

Yours are the hills, the fields, the woods, the orchards, and the streams,

The meadows and the bowers that bask in the sun's rejoicing beams;

'Mid them our childhood's years were kept, our childhood's thoughts were reared,

And by your household tones its joys were evermore endear'd.

We have wander'd where the myrtle bloom'd in its own unclouded realms,

But our hearts returned with changeless love to the brave old Saxon elms,

Where the laurel o'er its native streams of a deathless glory spoke,

But we passed with pride to the later fame of the sturdy Saxon oak.

We have marvelled at those mighty piles on the old Egyptain plains,

And our souls have thrill'd to the loveliness of the lonely Grecian fanes;

We have linger'd o'er the wreck of Rome, with its classic memories crown'd,

But these touch us not as the mouldering walls with the Saxon ivy bound.

Old Saxon words, old Saxon words, they bear us back with pride,

To the days when Alfred ruled the land by the laws of Him that died;

When in one spirit, truly good and truly great, was

shewn

What earth has owed, and still must owe, to such as Him alone.

There are tongues of other lands that flow with a softer, smoother grace,

But the old rough Saxon words will keep in our hearts their own true place;

Our household hearths, our household graves, our household smiles and tears,

Are guarded, hallow'd, shrined by them—the kind fast friends of years.

Old Saxon words, old Saxon words, your spells are round us thrown,

Ye haunt our daily paths and dreams with a music all your own;

Each one in its own power a host, to fond remembrance brings

The earliest, brightest aspect back of life's familiar things. Mrs. C. Tinsley.

THE TIDES OF RIVERS.

THERE is a circumstance connected with the subject of the tides which may have suggested a difficulty in the minds of some of our readers. When we speak of a tide-wave advancing at the rate of fifty or a hundred miles in an hour, we are apt at once to think of a current of water running at that rate, whereas, everybody knows that it is a very strong tide that runs at the rate of four miles an hour. A little attention will shew that the advance of the ridge of the tide-wave is a very different thing from the motion of the current in the water. If a ship were becalmed at the entrance of the English Channel, she would be lifted by the highwater tide, we will suppose, at three o'clock in the afternoon. A fleet riding at anchor in the Downs, would be lifted by the very same tide-wave at twelve o'clock that night, the wave having passed all the way up the Channel, at the rate of about fifty miles an hour. But the motion of the water which would carry the first ship along, or be observed as the rate of the current past the ship at anchor, would probably not be above two miles an hour; and might not be even in the same direction with that of the tide-wave.

Any person may easily convince himself that the motion of waves is not necessarily accompanied with a

current of the water in the same direction, by throwing any light substance into the sea a little beyond the breakers, or into a piece of standing water, the surface of which is ruffled. He will see that such a floating body rises and falls with the motion of the waves, but does not perceptibly move towards the shore.

A field of corn gives another very good instance of waves, without any advancing motion of the parts which form them. We may see the waves chase one another over the bending tops of the corn; but every ear that is bent down comes back to its first position.

In the tides, however, there is usually some current occasioned by the advance of the tide-wave: and this tide is stronger in places where the sea is shallower, or in funnel-shaped channels, such as the mouth of the Severn, or of other large rivers. It must be carefully observed, however, that the change in the direction of this current is quite a different thing from the change in the rise and fall of the water.

The nature of the tide in large rivers will be easily understood, after what has been said respecting the tide in narrow seas. Whenever the top of a tide-wave reaches the mouth of a river, it raises the water there, and sends an undulation up the river which advances with greater or less rapidity, (according to circumstances, checking the current, but not always driving it back), and causing high-water in succession, as it reaches the different parts of the river. The tide-wave advances up the Thames at about twenty miles an hour. We have no rivers in England which are long enough to shew the whole effect of the tide-wave in its progress; but in the great rivers of America, and in other parts of the world, it may be distinctly traced. Thus, in the river Delaware, upon which the town of Philadelphia is built, it is high water at Philadelphia at the same time as at the mouth of th river, one hundred and forty miles distant: and about half-way down there is low water at the same instant. Again, when it is high water at the middle point, it is low water at the two extremities. The surface of that part of the river which