(Even to the present hour the threat, “I’ll look over your head and see your naked nose!” is used occasionally in England to quiet fretful and unruly children. I have myself heard it scores of times.)

Nakir, Nekir, or Nakeer. (See Monker and Nakir, p. 719.)

Nala, a legendary king of India, noted for his love of Damayanti, and his subsequent misfortunes. This legendary king has been the subject of numerous poems.

(Dean Milman has translated into English the episode from the Mahâbhârata; and W. Yates has translated the Nalodaya of the great Sanskrit poem.)

Nama, a daughter of man, beloved by the angel Zaraph. Her wish was to love intensely and to love holily; but as she fixed her love on a seraph, and not on God, she was doomed to abide on earth, “unchanged in heart and frame,” so long as the earth endureth; but at the great consummation both Nama and her seraph will be received into those courts of love, where “love never dieth,”—Moore: Loves of the Angels, ii. (1822).

Namancos, Numantia, a town of Old Castile, in Spain. Milton says the “guarded mount looks towards Namancos,” that is, the fortified mount called St. Michael, at the Lands End, faces Old Castile.—Milton: Lycidas, 161 (1638).

Namby (Major), a retired officer, living in the suburbs of London. He had been twice married; his first wife had four children, and his second wife three. Major Namby, though he lived in a row, always transacted his domestic affairs by bawling out his orders from the front garden, to the annoyance of his neighbours. He used to stalk half-way down the garden path, with his head high in the air, his chest stuck out, and flourishing his military cane. Suddenly he would stop, stamp with one foot, knock up the hinder brim of his hat, begin to scratch the nape of his neck, wait a moment, then wheel round, look at the first-floor window, and roar out, “Matilda!” (the name of his wife) “don’t do so-and-so;” or “Matilda! do so-and-so.” Then would he bellow to the servants to buy this, or not to let the children eat that, and so on.—Wilkie Collins: Pray Employ Major Namby (a sketch).

Namby-Pamby. So Henry Carey called the lines of Ambrose Philips (on the infant child of lord Carteret). “Namby” is a baby way of pronouncing Ambrose, and the “P” of Philips suggested the jingle. It now signifies babyish literature.

N.B.—This is not John Philips, who wrote the Splendid Shilling.

Name. To tell one’s name to an enemy about to challenge you to combat was deemed by the ancient Scotch heroes a mark of cowardice; because, if the predecessors of the combatants had shown hospitality, no combat could ensue. Hence “to tell one’s name to an enemy” was an ignominious synonym of craven or coward.

“I have been renowned in battle,” said Clessammor, “but I never told my name to a foe.”—Ossian: Carthon.

Names of Terror. The following, amongst others, have been employed as bogie-names to frighten children with:—

(1) Attila was a bogie-name to the later Romans.

(2) Befana (q.v.). To tell Befana implies that she will bring only dust and ashes instead of a pretty toy on Christmas Eve.

(3) Bo or Boh, son of Odin, was a fierce Gothic captain. His name was used by his soldiers when they would fight or surprise the enemy.—Sir W. Temple.

Warton tells us that the Dutch scared their children with the name of Boh.

  By PanEris using Melati.

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