Wild Life in the Land of the Giants: A Tale of Two Brothers

Reginald Augustus John Fitzmaurice Jones!
That is my name in full.
There is not the slightest occasion to remember it.
The name is far and away too long, and too tall for ordinary use. Twice only have I taken it to church with me, namely, on the day of my baptism, and on my wedding morn. On both these occasions it was written on a bit of paper, and folded up for future use.
On the first occasion it was carefully carried in my father’s waistcoat pocket, and I brought it home.
On the second occasion it was carefully carried in my own waistcoat pocket, and brought home by one far dearer to me than even a father.
But as regards a name or names rather, my brother did not fare a bit better than I did.
Rupert Domville Ffoljambe-Foley Jillard Jones!
That is my brother’s name in full. And, indeed, I think it will be readily admitted that his was a harder case than even mine, and seeing that I was the elder, this seemed scarcely fair.
Reginald Augustus John Fitzmaurice Jones! Only fancy a spirited young man having to make his way in life, and drag through existence with such a name as that tagged on to him. For one young man even it would be bad enough, but there were two of us, and we always drove in couple.
What a deal maiden aunts have to account for, as often as not! Yes, it was all owing to Aunt Serapheema, and even to this day I cannot help thinking she owes us a very ample apology.