So far from being chosen at random these are frequently the result of much premeditation. Voltaire (born 1694, died 1778), whose proper name was Arovet, composed out of this and the initials L. I. (le jeune) the anagram by which all his writings are identified. Again, Barry Cornwall is an imperfect anagram founded upon Bryan Waller Procter (born 1790, died 1874), the poet’s real name; whereas Yendys, the signature of Sydney Dobell (born 1824, died 1874), was merely the Christian name reversed. To cite an instance of another class: Charles James Apperley, of Denbighshire, author of “The Chase, the Turf, and the Road,” and a regular contributor to The Quarterly Review could scarcely have hit upon a more fitting pseudonym than that of Nimrod, who “was a mighty hunter before the Lord,” alluded to in Genesis x. 9. Such a choice will be the better understood, perhaps, when it is mentioned that out of regard for the sporting tastes of his esteemed contributor, Mr. Pittman, the proprietor of the Quarterly kept a stud of hunters for his especial use. Equally appropriate was the pseudonym Zadkiel, denoting the angel of the planet Jupiter, adopted by Lieutenant Richard James Morrison, author of “The Prophetic Almanack,” which still survives as an annual publication.

Washington Irving selected the nom de plume of Knickerbocker for his “History of New York,” in allusion to the wide breeches worn by the original settlers of that city. The true account of how Charles Lamb (born 1775, died 1834) adopted the name of Elia for his “Essays” is as follows:—His first contribution to the “London Magazine” being a description of the Old South Sea House, in which he had spent several months of his noviciate as a clerk, he at the very moment of appending his signature, bethought himself of a gay, light-hearted foreigner who used to flutter about there; and, as a mere matter of whim, he wrote down the name of that individual instead of his own. Boz, the early nom de plume of Charles Dickens (born 1812, died 1870), arose out of the nickname of Moses conferred by him upon a younger pet brother in honour of Moses Primrose in the “Vicar of Wakefield.” The other children of the family, however, found it impossible to utter a nearer pronunciation to the name than “Bozes,” which presently became shortened in “Boz”; and the latter hit the fancy of our young author sufficiently to lead him to its adoption at that period of his literary career when he lacked the confidence to appear before the world under his own name. Out of an analogous incident sprang Ouida, the pseudonym of one of the most widely-read lady novelists of the present day. Her actual name is Louise de la RamÉe (born in 1840); but remarking the infantile conversion of Louise into “Ouida,” she was struck by the novelty of such a nom de plume, and immediately adopted it. Another lady novelist of probably higher attainments assumed the name of George Sand (born 1804, died 1876) as the outcome of her attachment to a young student named Jules Sand, or rather Sandeau, with whom she collaborated in the production of “Rose et Blanche,” her first novel. The real name of this lady was Mdlle. Dupin, afterwards changed by marriage to Madame Dudevant.

It may be deemed interesting to learn also that Artemus Ward was an actual name borne by an eccentric showman with whom Charles Farrar Browne, the American humorist (born 1834, died 1867) often came into personal contact; and, further, that Samuel Langhorne Clemens (born in 1835) owes his singular pseudonym to the fact of having been employed in early life as a pilot on one of the Mississippi River steamboats. The nautical phrase for taking soundings, Mark Twain, or, in other words, “mark two fathoms,” suggested the name under which the works of the latter have become widely popular on both sides of the Atlantic.

Finally, not every one is aware that F. M. Allen, the pseudonym of Mr. Edmund Downey, author of “The Voyage of the Ark,” “Through Green Glasses,” and some other books of Irish humour, was his wife’s maiden name.