Gleanings from the Harvest-Fields of Literature: A Melange of Excerpta (part 2 of 4)

Introduction

An earlier edition of §Gleanings§ having attracted the hearty approval of a limited circle of that class of readers who prefer “a running banquet that hath much variety, but little of a sort,” the present publisher requested the preparation of an enlargement of the work. In the augmented form in which it is now offered to the public, the contents will be found so much more comprehensive and omnifarious that, while it has been nearly doubled in size, it has been more than doubled in literary value.

Miscellanea of the omnium-gatherum sort appear to be as acceptable to-day as they undoubtedly were in the youthful period of our literature, though for an opposite reason. When books were scarce, and costly, and inaccessible, anxious readers found in “scripscrapologia” multifarious sources of instruction; now that books are like the stars for multitude, the reader who is appalled by their endless succession and variety is fain to receive with thankfulness the cream that is skimmed and the grain that is sifted by patient hands for his use. Our ancestors were regaled with such olla-podrida as “The Gallimaufry: a Kickshaw [Fr. quelque chose] Treat which comprehends odd bits and scraps, and odds and ends;” or “The Wit’s Miscellany: odd and uncommon epigrams, facetious drolleries, whimsical mottoes, merry tales, and fables, for the entertainment and diversion of good company.” To the present generation is accorded a wider field for excursion, from the Curiosities of Disraeli, and the Commonplaces of Southey, to the less ambitious collections of less learned collaborators.

“Into a hotch-potch,” says Sir Edward Coke, “is commonly put not one thing alone, but one thing with other things together.” The present volume is an expedient for grouping together a variety which will be found in no other compilation. From the nonsense of literary trifling to the highest expression of intellectual force; from the anachronisms of art to the grandest revelations of science; from selections for the child to extracts for the philosopher, it will accommodate the widest diversity of taste, and furnish entertainment for all ages, sexes, and conditions. As a pastime for the leisure half-hour, at home or abroad; as a companion by the fireside, or the seaside, amid the hum of the city, or in the solitude of rural life; as a means of relaxation for the mind jaded by business activities, it may be safely commended to acceptance.

The aim of this collation is not to be exhaustive, but simply to be well compacted. The restrictive limits of an octavo require the winnowings of selection in place of the bulk of expansion. Gargantua, we are told by Rabelais, wrote to his son Pantagruel, commanding him to learn Greek, Latin, Chaldaic, and Arabic; all history, geometry, arithmetic, music, astronomy, natural philosophy, etc., “so that there be not a river in the world thou dost not know the name and nature of all its fishes; all the fowls of the air; all the several kinds of shrubs and herbs; all the metals hid in the bowels of the earth, all gems and precious stones. I would furthermore have thee study the Talmudists and Cabalists, and get a perfect knowledge of man. In brief, I would have thee a bottomless pit of all knowledge.” While this book does not aspire to such Gargantuan comprehensiveness, it seeks a higher grade of merit than that which attaches to those who “chronicle small beer,” or to him who is merely “a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.”

Quaint old Burton, in describing the travels of Paulus Emilius, says, “He took great content, exceeding delight in that his voyage, as who doth not that shall attempt the like? For peregrination charms our senses with such unspeakable and sweet variety, that some count him unhappy that never traveled, a kind of prisoner, and pity his case that from his cradle to his old age beholds the same still; still, still, the same, the same.” It is the purpose of these §Gleanings§ to compass such “sweet variety” by conducting the reader here, through the green lanes of freshened thought, and there, through by-paths neglected and gray with the moss of ages; now, amid cultivated fields, and then, adown untrodden ways; at one time, to rescue from oblivion fugitive thoughts which the world should not “willingly let die,” at another, to restore to sunlight gems which have been too long “underkept and down supprest.” The compiler asks the tourist to accompany him, because with him, as with Montaigne and Hans Andersen, there is no pleasure without communication, and though all men may find in these Collectanea some things which they will recognize as old acquaintances, yet will they find many more with which they are unfamiliar, and to which their attention has never been awakened.

Alphabetical Whims.

The Freaks and Follies of Literature—Account of certain Singular Books—What are Pangrammata?—The Banished Letters—Eve’s Legend—Alphabetical Advertisement—The Three Initials—A Jacobite Toast—“The Beginning of Eternity”—The Poor Letter II—The Letters of the World—Traps for the Cockneys—Ingenious Verses on the Vowels—Alliterative Verses—“A Bevy of Belles”—Antithetical Sermon—Acrostics—Double, Triple, and Reversed Acrostics—Beautiful and Singular Instances—The Poets in Verse—On Benedict Arnold—Curious Pasquinade—Monastic Verses—The Figure of the Fish—Acrostic on Napoleon—Madame Rachael—Masonic Memento—“Hempe”—“Brevity of Human Life”—Acrostic Valentine—Anagrams—German, Latin, and English Instances—Chronograms. 25

Palindromes.

_Reading in every Style—What is a Palindrome?—What St. Martin said to the Devil—The Lawyer’s Motto—What Adam said to Eve—The Poor Young Man in Love—What Dean Swift wrote to Dr. Sheridan—“The Witch’s Prayer”—The Device of a Lady—Huguenot and Romanist; Double Dealing._ 59

Equivoque.

_A Very Deceitful Epistle—A Wicked Love Letter—What a Young Wife wrote to her Friend—The Jesuit’s Creed—Revolutionary Verses—Double Dealings—A Fatal Name—The Triple Platform—A Bishop’s Evasion—The “Toast” given by a Smart Young Man—“The Handwriting on the Wall”—French Actresses—How Mlle. Mars told her Age—A Lenient Judge—What Mlle. Cico whimpered to “the Bench.”_ 64

The Cento.

_“A Cloak of Patches”—How Centos are made—Mosaic Poetry—The Poets in a Mixed State—New Version of Old Lines—Cento on Life—A Cento from thirty-eight Authors—Cento from Pope—Biblical Sentiments—The Return of Israel—Religious Centos._ 73

Macaronic Verse.

_“A Treatise on Wine”—Monkish Opinions—Which Tree is Best?—A Lover with Nine Tongues—Horace in a New Dress—What was Written on a Fly-Leaf—“The Cat and the Rats”—An Advertisement in Five Languages—Parting Address to a Friend—“Oh, the Rhine!”—The Death of the Sea Serpent._ 78

Chain Verse.

_Lasphrise’s Novelties—Singular Ode to Death—On “The Truth”—“Long I looked into the Sky”—A Ringing Song—A Gem of Three Centuries Old._ 85

Bouts Rimés.

The Skeletons of Poetry—How the Poet Dulot lost all his Ideas—The Flight of three hundred Sonnets—The “Nettle” Rhymes—How a Young Lady teased her Beau—Assisting a Poet—Miss Lydia’s Acrostic—Alfred De Musset’s Lines—What the Duc de Malakoff wrote—Reversed Rhymes—How to make “Rhopalic” verses!—What they are. 88

Emblematic Poetry.

Poetry in Visible Shape—The Bow and Arrow of Love—The Deceitful Glass—Prudent Advice—A Very Singular Dirge—Poetry among the Monks—Sacred Symbols—A Hymn in Cruciform Shape—Ancient Devices—Verses within the Cross—Cypher—“U O a O. but I O U”—Perplexing Printer’s Puzzle—An Oxford Joke—The Puzzle of “The Precepts Ten”—A Mysterious Letter to Miss K. T. J. 92

Monosyllables.

_The Power of Little Words—How Pope Ridiculed them—The “Universal Prayer”—Example of Dr. Watts—Wesley’s Hymns—Writings of Shakespeare and Milton—“Address to the Daffodils”—Geo. Herbert’s Poems—Testimony of Keble, Young, Landor, and Fletcher—Examples from Bailey’s “Festus”—The Short Words of Scripture—Big and Little Words Compared._ 98

The Bible.

Who wrote the Scriptures—Why—And When—Accuracy of the Bible—The Testimony of Modern Discoveries—Scope and Depth of Scripture Teaching—What Learned Men have written of the Bible—Testimony of Rousseau, Wilberforce, Bolingbroke, Sir Wm. Jones, Webster, John Quincy Adams, Addison, Byron, &c.—Who Translated the Bible—Wickliffe’s Version—Tyndale’s Translation—Matthew’s Bible—Cranmer’s Edition—The Geneva Bible—The Breeches Bible—The Bishop’s Bible—Parker’s Bible—The Douay Bible—King James’s Bible—The Number of Books, Chapters, Verses, Words, and Letters in the Old and New Testaments—The Bible Dissected—An Extraordinary Calculation—Distinctions between the Gospels—The Lost Books—What the word “Selah” means—The Poetry of the Bible—Shakespeare’s Knowledge of Scripture—The “True Gentleman” of the Bible—Misquotations from Scripture—A Scriptural “Bull”—Wit and Humor in the Bible—Sortes Sacræ—Casting Lots with the Bible. 103

The Name of God.

_How God is known—His Name in all the tongues of Earth—Ancient Saxon Ideas of Deity—“Elohim” and “Jehovah”—The “Lord” of the Ancient Jews—“God in Shakespeare”—The Fatherhood of God—The Parsee, Jew, and Christian._ 127

I. H. S.

The Name of Jesus—What does I. H. S. Mean?—De Nomine Jesu—_What St. Bernardine did—“The Flower of Jesse”—Story of the Infant Jesus—Ancient Legends of Christ—Persian Story; The Dead Dog—Description of Christ’s Person—The Death Warrant of Christ—The Sign of the Cross in Ancient America._ 130

The Lord’s Prayer.

Thy and Us—The “Spirit” of the Lord’s Prayer—Gothic Version of the Fourth Century—Metrical Versions—Set to Music—The Prayer Illustrated—Acrostical Paraphrase—What the Bible Commentators Said—The Prayer Echoed—A Singular Acrostic. 136

Ecclesiasticæ.

_Anecdotes of Clergy—Excessive Civility—A Very Polite Preacher—Dean Swift’s short Sermon—“Down with the Dust”—An Abbreviated Sermon—Dr. Dodd’s Sermon on Malt—Bombastic Style of Bascom—The Preachers of Cromwell’s time—When a man ought to Cough!—Origin of Texts—How the Ancient Prophets Preached—Clerical Blunders—Proving an Alibi—Whitefield and the Sailors—Protestant Excommunication—The Tender Mercies of John Knox._ 143

Puritan Peculiarities.

_The Puritan Maiden “Tribby”—A Jury-List of 1658—An Extraordinary List of Names—Singular Similes—Early Punishments in Massachusetts—Virginia Penalties in the Olden Time—Primitive Fines for Curious Crimes—Staying away from Church—The “Blue Laws” of Connecticut—Hard Punishments for Little Faults._ 150

Paronomasia.

_The Art of Pun-making—What is Wit?—Puns Among the Hebrews—A Pungent Chapter—Punning Examples—The Short Road to Wealth—A “Man of Greece”—Witty Impromptus of Sydney Smith—Startling toast of Harry Erskine—“Top and Bottom”—The Imp of Darkness and the Imp o’ Light—A Printer’s Epitaph—The “whacks” and the “stick”_—“Wo-man” and “Whim-men”—Faithless Sally Brown—Whiskers versus _Razors—Pleasure and Payne—Plaint of the old Pauper—To my Nose—Bad_ “accountants” _but excellent “book-keepers”—The Vegetable Girl—On an Old Horse—Grand Scheme of Emigration—“The Perilous Practice of Punning”_—“Tu Portu Salus”—_On a Youth who was killed by Fruit—The Appeal of Widow-Hood—Swift’s Latin Puns—Puns in Macbeth—Classical Puns and Mottoes—Mottoes of the English Peerage_—Jeux-de-Mots—_How Schott Willing—A Catalectic Monody—Bees of the Bible—Franklin’s “Re’s”—Funny “Miss-Nomers”—Crooked Coincidences—A Court Fool’s Pun_. 155

English Words and Forms of Expression.

_Dictionary English—Number of words in the English Language—Language of the Bible—Sources of the Language—Helping a Foreigner—Difficulties of the Language—Disraelian English—Why use “Ye”?—Its, His, and Her—How often “That” may be used—How many sounds are given to “ough”—A Literary Squabble—Concerning certain Words—Excise, Pontiff, Rough—Dr. Johnson in Trouble—Americanisms—“No Love Lost”—The Forlorn Hope—Quiz—Tennyson’s English—Eccentric Etymologies—Words which have changed their Meaning—Strange Derivations—Influence of Names—Big Words and Long Names._ 182

Tall Writing.

_The Domicile erected by John—New Version of an Old Story—Curiosities of Advertising—Mr. Connors and his big Words—Curiosities of the Post Office—Singular Play Bill—Andrew Borde, his Book—The Mad Poet—Foote’s Funny Farrago—Burlesque of Dr. Johnson—Newspaper Eulogy—“Clear as Mud”—An Indignant Letter—A Chemical Valentine—The Surgeon to his Lady-love—The Lawyers Ode to Spring—Proverbs for Precocious Pupils._ 212

Metric Prose.

_Unconscious Poetizing—Cowper’s Rhyming Letter to Newton—Poetic Prose in Irving’s Knickerbocker—Example from Disraeli’s “Alroy”—Unintentional Rhythm in Charles Dickens’ works—Old Curiosity Shop and Nicholas Nickleby—American Notes—Versification in Scripture—Rhymes from Celebrated Prosers—Curious Instance of Abraham Lincoln—Opinion of Dr. Johnson—Examples from Kemble and Siddons._ 223

The Humors of Versification.

The Story of the Lovers—Mingled Moods and Tenses—The Stammering Wife—A Song with Variations—“While She Rocks the Cradle”—A Serio-Comic Elegy—Reminiscence of Troy—Concerning Vegetarianism—W. C. Bryant as a Humorist—Address “To a Mosquito”—The “Poet” of the “Atlantic”—Bryant’s Travesty—A Rare Pipe—The Human Ear—A Lesson in Acoustics—Amusing Burlesque of Tennyson—Sir Tray; an Arthurian Idyl—All About the “Ologies”—The Variation Humbug—Buggins and the Busy Bee—Comical Singing in Church—The Curse of O’Kelly. 230

Hiberniana.

_Irish Bulls and Blunders—Miss Edgeworth on the “Bull”—Comical Letter of an Irish “M. P.”—Bulls in Mississippi—American Bulls—The New Jail—A Frenchman’s Blunder—The “Puir Silly Body” who wrote a Book—The “bulls” of Classical Writers—Bulls from every Quarter and of all kinds._ 252

Blunders.

_Slips of the Press—The Bishop Accused of Swearing—The Damp Old Church—From a French Newspaper—The Pig-killing Machine and the Doctor—Slips of the Telegraph—Simmons and the Cranberries—Finishing his Education—The Poets in a Quandary—Blunders of Translators—Rather Gigantic Grasshoppers—“Love’s last Shift”—Amusing Blunder of Voltaire—“A Fortune Cutting Meat”—A New “Translation” of Hamlet—The Frenchman and the Welsh Rabbit._ 259

Misquotations.

Curious Misquotations of Well-known Authors—Example of Collins—Sir Walter Scott in Error—Blunder of Sir Archibald Alison—Cruikshank as the Real “Simon Pure”—Judge Best’s “Great Mind”—Byron’s Little Mistake. 266

Fabrications.

_The Description of Christ’s Person a Fabrication—“Detector’s” Charge against Scott—The “Ministering Angel” not a Fabrication—The Moon Hoax—A Literary “Sell”—Carlyle’s Worshippers Outwitted—Mrs. Hemans’ Forgeries—Sheridan’s “Greek”—Spurious Ballads—The Simple Ballad Trick—A Hoax upon Scott—Psalmanazar’s Celebrated Fabrications—Benjamin Franklin’s Parable—The Forgeries of Ireland—Imitations of Shakespeare._ 269

Interrupted Sentences.

_The Judge and the Criminal—“Free from Guile”—Poor Mary “Confined”—Erskine’s “Subscription”—A Satisfactory Note—“Little Hel”—Going to War—The Poet Assisted; the Sun and the Fishes—Giving him the “lie”—De Quincey and the Fiend—Wit in the House of Commons._ 277

Echo Verse.

Ancient Echo Verses—Address to Queen Elizabeth—London before the Restoration—Echo Song by Addison—A Dutch Pasquinade—The Gospel Echo—Echo and the Lover—Dean Swift’s verses on Women—Buonaparte and the Echo—Fatal Verses—Why Palm, the Publisher, was shot—Remarkable Echoes—A Fatal Confession—Extraordinary facts in Acoustics—Hearing Afar Off. 281

Puzzles.

Puzzles defended: their use and value—Exercise for the Mind—Ancient Perplexities—“The Liar”—“Puzzled to Death”—A French rebus—Napoleon Buonaparte’s Cypher—A Queer-looking Proclamation—A curious Puzzle for the Lawyers—Sir Isaac Newton’s Riddle—Cowper’s Riddle—Canning’s Riddle—A Prize Enigma—Quincy’s Comparison—Perplexing Intermarriages—Prophetic Distich—The “Number of the Beast”—Galileo’s Logograph—Persian Riddles—The Chinese Tea Song—Death and Life—The Rebus—What is it?—The Book of Riddles—Bishop Wilberforce’s Riddle—Curiosities of Cipher—Secret Writing—Remarkable Cryptographs. 290

The Reason Why.

_Why Germans Eat Sauer-Kraut—Why Pennsylvania was Settled—Whence the Huguenots derived their name—How Monarchs Die—Origin of the name of Boston—Concerning Weathercocks—Cutting off with a Shilling—Why Cardinals hats are red—The Roast Beef of England—A Sensible Quack—Who was the first Gentleman—Solution of a Juggler’s Mystery._ 310

Weather-Wisdom.

_Sheridan’s Rhyming Calendar—Sir Humphrey Davy’s Weather Omens—Jenner’s “Signs of the Weather”—“The Shepherd’s Calendar”—Predictions from Birds, Beasts, and Insects—Circles round the Sun and Moon—Quaint Old-time Prophecies—The Evil Days of every Month._ 317

O. S. and N. S.

The Julian and the Gregorian Calendars—How Cæsar arranged the Calendar—The Julian Year—Going faster than the Sun—Pope Gregory’s Efforts—Origin of the New Style—“Poor Job’s Almanac”—The Loss of Eleven Days—How the matter was Explained. 325

Memoria Technica.

_The Books of the Old Testament—The Books of the New—Versified helps to Memory—Names of Shakespeare’s Plays—List of English Sovereigns—Names of the Presidents—The Decalogue in verse—Short Metrical Grammar—Number of days in each Month—How Quakers Remember._ 327

Origin of Things Familiar.

Mind your P’s and Q’s—All Fool’s Day—The First Playing Cards—“Sub Rosa”—“Over the Left”—“Kicking the Bucket”—The Bumper—A Royal Saying—Story of Joe Dun, the Bailiff—The First Humbug—Pasquinade—The First Bottled Ale—The Gardener and the Potatoes—Tarring and Feathering—The Stockings of Former Time—The Order of the Garter—Drinking Healths—A Feather in his Cap—The Word “Book”—Nine Tailors and One Man—“Viz”—Signature of the Cross—The Turkish Crescent—The Postpaid Envelopes of the 17th Century—Who first sang the “Old Hundredth?”—Who wrote the “Marseillaise Hymn?”—Thrilling Story of the French Revolution—The Origin of “Yankee Doodle”—Story of Lucy Locket and Kitty Fisher—How Dutchmen sing “Yankee Doodle”—How the American Flag was chosen—Who was Brother Jonathan? What is known of “Uncle Sam!”—The Dollar Mark [$]: what does it mean?—Bows and Arrows in the Olden Time—All about Guns—The first Insurance Company—The Banks of three Centuries ago—The Invention of Bells—Who first said “Boo!”—Who made the first Clock—The Watches of the Olden Time—All about the Invention of Printing—The first Cock-fights—Meaning of the word “Turncoat”—Who invented Lucifer Matches?—When was the Flag of England first unfurled—Why are Literary ladies called “Blue Stockings?”—Origin of the word “Skedaddle”—How Foolscap Paper got its name—The First Forged Bank-Note—Who made the first “Piano Forte?”—The first Doctors—The first Thanksgiving Proclamation—First Prayer in Congress—The first Reporters—Origin of the word “News”—The Earliest Newspapers—Who sent the first Telegraphic Message. 331

Nothing New Under the Sun.

_First idea of the Magnetic Telegraph—Telegraph before Morse—Telegraph a Century Ago—Who made the first Steam Engine?—What Marian de l’Orme saw in the Mad-house—What the Marquis of Worcester Did—Richelieu’s Mistake—Wonderful Invention of James Watt—The first Ocean Steamer—Fulton and the Steam Engine—The first Balloon Ascension—What Franklin said about the Baby—An Inventor’s Mistake—Discovery of the Circulation of the Blood—What is “Anæsthesia?”—How the First Anodynes were made—How Adam’s “Rib” was taken from him—All about the Boomerang—Who Discovered the Centre of Gravity?—The first Rifle—Table-moving and Spirit-rapping in Ancient Times—What is “Auscultation?”—The Stereoscope—Ancient Prediction of the Discovery of America._ 375

Triumphs of Ingenuity.

How the Planet Neptune was Discovered—Le Verrier’s Wonderful Calculation—The Story of a poor Physician—An Astronomer at Home—How Lescarbault became Famous—The Discovery of the Planet Vulcan—Ingenious Stratagem of Columbus—How an Eclipse was made Useful—Story of King John and the Abbot—A Picture of the Olden Time—Clever Reply to Three Puzzling Questions—The Father Abbot in a Fix. 395

The Fancies of Fact.

_The Wounds of Julius Cæsar—Some Curious Old Bills—“Mending the Ten Commandments”—Screwing a Horn on the Devil—Gluing a bit on his Tail—Repairing the Virgin Mary before and behind—Making a New Child—Why Bishops and Parsons have no Souls—The Story of a Curious Conversion—Singular Prayer of Lord Ashley—A Moonshine Story of Sir Walter Scott—Do Lawyers tell the Truth?—Patrick Henry’s Little Chapel—The True Form of the Cross—How Poets and Painters have led us astray—Curious Coincidences—How a Bird was Shot with a Stick—How a Musket-shot in the Lungs saved a Man’s life—Mysterious Tin Box found in a Shark’s Stomach—A Curious Card Trick—Which was the right Elizabeth Smith?—How Mrs. Stephens’s Patients were Cured—How a Girl’s Good Memory Caught a Thief—Choosing a Motto for a Sun-dial—Strange Story of a Murdered Man—The Chick in the Egg—Innate Appetite—The Indian and the Tame Snake—Why do Alligators Swallow Stones?—Curious Anecdote about Sheep—Celebrated Journeys on Horseback—A Horse that went to top of St. Peters’ at Rome—A Wonderful Lock—Wonders of Manufacturing—How Iron can be made More Precious than Gold—The Spaniard and his Emeralds—How a Cat was sold for Six Hundred Dollars—Another Cat sold for a Pound of Gold—The amount of Gold in the World—Amount of Treasure collected by David—How much Gold was found in California—What was brought from Australia—The Wealth of Ancient Romans—Wine at Two Million dollars a Bottle or $272 per drop—Who is permitted to drink it—Monster Beer Casks, and who made them—Gigantic Wine-tuns at Heidelberg and Königstein—A Beer-vat in which Two Hundred People Dined—Difference between the English Poets—Perils of Precocity—Children who were too Knowing—What became of 146 Englishmen who were confined in the Black Hole—How the Finns make Barometers of Stone—Singular Bitterness of Strychnia—Something about Salt—Curious Change of Taste—The Children of Israel armed with Guns—Simeon with a pair of “Specs”—Eve in a handsome Flounced Dress—St. Peter and the Tobacco Pipe—Abraham shooting Isaac with a Blunderbuss—The Marriage of Christ with St. Catherine—Cigar-lighters at the Last Supper—Shooting Ducks with a Gun in the Garden of Eden—Wonderful Specimens of Minute Mechanism—Homer in a Nutshell—The Bible in a Walnut—Squaring the Circle—Mathematical Prodigies—Story of a Wonderful Boy—Babbage’s Calculating Machine—Extraordinary Feats of Memory—A Bishop’s Heroism—Silent Compliment._ 406

The Fancies of Fact.—§Continued.§

The Exact Dimensions of Heaven—The cost of Solomon’s Temple—The Mystic Numbers “Seven” and “Three”—Curious power of Number Nine—Size of Noah’s Ark and the Great Eastern—About Colors: their Immense Variety—Vast Aerolites, and what they are—Fate of America’s Discoverers—Facts about the Presidents—Value of Queen Victoria’s Jewels—An Army of Women—The Star in the East—Benjamin Franklin’s Court Dress—Extraordinary instances of Longevity—Do Americans live long?—A man who lived more than 200 years—“Quack-quack” and “Bow-wow”—A Marriage Vow of the Olden Time—“Buxum in Bedde and at the Borde”—What came in a dream to Herschel—Singular Facts about Sleep—Curious Chinese Torture—Do Fishes ever Sleep?—How a Bird Grasps his Perch when Asleep—How to gain Seven Years and a half of Life—Effects of Opium and Indian Hemp—Confession of an English Opium-Eater—Strange Effects of Fear—The Thief and the Feathers—The Poisoned Coachman—How a Man Died of Nothing—What Chas. Bell did to the Monkey—A Man with Two Faces—Thrilling Story of a “Broken heart”—No Comfort in being Beheaded—A Man who Spoke after his Head was cut off—A Man who Lived after Sensation was Destroyed—Comical Antipathies—Afraid of Boiled Lobsters—A Fish and a Fever—Why Joseph Scaliger couldn’t Drink Milk—The Man who Ran away from a Cat—About the Cock that Frightened Cæsar—The Two Brothers with One Set of feelings—How Dennis Hendrick won his Strange Bet—Walking Blindfolded—How to Tell the Time by Cats’ Eyes—How a Young Woman was Cured by a Ring—The Story told by a Skull—A Romantic Highway Robber. 435

Singular Customs.

The Coffin on the Table—Queer Mode of Enjoying Oneself—A Beautiful Indian Custom—Why the People of Carazan Murder their Guests—Danger of Being Handsome—How an Evil Spirit was Frightened Away—Beefsteaks from a Live Cow—Compliments Paid to a Bear—How Noses are Made—How Lions are Caught by the Tail—A Picture of High Life Four Centuries Ago—Why Hairs were put in Ancient Seals—Fining People for not Getting Married—A Curious Matrimonial Advertisement. 477

Facetiæ.

Odd Titles for a Sham Library—Puns of Tom Hood—The Jests of Hierocles—Curious Letter of Rothschild’s—Some Singularly Short Letters—A Disappointed Lover—“The Happiest Dog Alive”—What Happened Between Abernethy and the Lady—Witty Sayings of Talleyrand—Why Rochester’s Poem was Best—How the Emperor Nicholas was “Sold”—Difference Between “Old Harry” and “Old Nick”—Comical Story of a very Mean Man—Instances of Audacious Boasting—Chas. Mathews and the Silver Spoon—How a King Upset his Inside—Curious Story of Some Relics—What “Topsy’s” Other Name Was—Minding their P’s and Q’s—Practical Jokes of a Russian Jester. 482

Flashes of Repartee.

_Curran and Sir Boyle Roche—Witty Reply of a Fishwoman—Cobden and the American Lady—Witty Suggestion of Napoleon—Making “Game” of a Lady—The Road that no Peddler ever Traveled—“A Puppy in his Boots!”—A Quaker’s Queer Suggestion—What the Girl said to Curran—A Man who had “never been Weaned”—Ready Wit of Theodore Hook—“Chaff” between Barrow and Rochester—A Windy M. P.—A Clergyman known by his “Walk”—A Man who “had a Right to Speak”—The “Weak Brother” and Tobacco Pipes—Beecher Lecturing for F-A-M-E—Admiral Keppel and the He-Goat—Thackeray and the Beggar-Woman—What Paddy said about “Ayther and Nayther”—Scribe and the French Millionaire—Voltaire and Haller—Why Paddy “Loved her Still”—Bacon and Hogg—“A Most Excellent Judge”—Thackeray Snubbed—Christian Cannibalism—How a Barrister’s Eloquence was Silenced._ 495

The Sexes.

Masculine and Feminine Virtues and Vices—Character of the Happy Woman—What Mrs. Jameson said about Women—Old Ballad in Praise of Women—The Two Sexes Compared—What John Randolph said in Praise of Matrimony—Wife; Mistress; or Lady?—St. Leon’s Toast to his Mother. 501

Moslem Wisdom.

_The Caliph of Bagdad—Shrewd Decision of a Moslem Judge—A Question of Dinner—How the Money was Divided—The Wisdom of Ali—The Prophet’s Judgment: Wisdom and Wealth—Mohammedan Logic—The Foolish Young Man who Fell in Love—Queer Case of Consequential Damages—Sad Blunder of Omar—A Perplexing Turkish Will—The Dervise’s Device._ 508

Excerpta from Persian Poetry.

_Earth an Illusion—Heaven an Echo of Earth—A Moral Atmosphere—Fortune and Worth—Broken Hearts—To a Generous Man—Beauty’s Prerogative—Proud Humility—Folly for Oneself—An Impossibility—Sober Drunkenness—A Wine Drinker’s Metaphors—The Verses of Mirtsa Schaffy—The Unappreciative World—The Caliph and Satan—Curious Dodge of the Devil._ 511

Epigrams.

_An Epigram on Epigrams—Midas and Modern Statesmen—“Come Gentle Sleep”—A Man who Wrote Long Epitaphs—The Fool and the Poet—“_Dum Vivimus Vivamus_”—Dr. Johnson and Molly Ashton—A Know-Nothing—Epigram on “Our Bed”—On a Late Repentance—A Pale Lady with a Red-Nosed Husband—Snowflakes on a Lady’s Breast—To John Milton—Wesley on Butler—Ridiculous Compliment to Pope—Athol Brose—What is Eternity—Stolen Sermons—Comical Advice to an Author—A Frugal Queen—Man With a Thick Skull—Miss Prue and the Kiss—A Ready-Made Angel—The Lover and the Looking-Glass—A Capricious Friend—A Man who Told “Fibs”—Unlucky End of a Scorpion—The Lawyer and the Novel—A Woman’s Will—Wellington’s Big Nose—The Miser and his Money—On Bad Singing—Old Nick and the Fiddle_—Foot-man versus Toe-_man—“Hot Corn”—Bonnets of Straw—An “Original Sin” Man—On Writing Verses—Prudent Simplicity—A Friend in Distress—Hog v. Bacon—A Warm Reception—Taking Medical Advice—Definition of a Dentist—Dr. Goodenough’s Sermon—What Might Have Been—A Reflection—The Woman in the Case—How Lawyers are “Keen”—Dux and Drakes—The Parson’s Eyes—“He Didn’t Mean Her”—Affinity Between Gold and Love—The Crier who Could not Cry—The Parson and the Butcher—A Hard Case of Strikes—Coats of_ Male—_The Beaux upon the Quiver—On Burning Widows—Learning Speeches by Heart—A Golden Webb—The Jawbone of an Ass—Walking on her Head—Marriage à la mode—Quid Pro Quo—Woman pro and con—Abundance of Fools—The World—“Terminer Sans Oyer”—Seeing Double._ 515

Impromptus.

_Dr. Young and his Eve—How Ben Jonson Paid his Bill—What Melville said to Queen Elizabeth—The “Angel” in the Pew—How Andrew Horner was Cut up—What Hastings Wrote of Burke—Impromptu of Dr. Johnson—Burlesque of Old Ballads—What was “Running in a Lady’s Head”—Improvised Rhymes—Like unto Judas—How the Devil got his Due—The Writing on the Window—“I Thought so Yesterday”—What is Written on the Gates of Hell—Burns’ “Grace before Meat”._ 528

Refractory Rhyming.

_Julianna and the Lozenges—Brougham’s Rhyme for Morris—The French Speculator’s Epitaph—What is a Monogomphe—Rhymes for Month, Chimney, Liquid, Carpet, Window, Garden, Porringer, Orange, Lemon, Pilgrim, Widow, Timbuctoo, Niagara, Mackonochie—Rhyme to Gottingen—The Ingoldsby Legends—Punch’s Funny Rhymes—Chapin’s Rhyme to Brimblecomb—Butler’s Rhyme to Philosopher—A Rhyme to Germany—Hood’s Nocturnal Sketch._ 534

Valentines.

_A Strategic Love-Letter—Love-Letter in Invisible Ink—Secret Invitation Concealed in a Love-Letter—Macaulay’s Essay to Mary C. Stanhope—Love-Verses of Robert Burns—Teutonic Alliteration—Singular Letter in Three Columns—Love-Letter Written in Blood—A Valentine in Many Languages—Practical Joke on a Colored Man—Unpublished Verses of Thomas Moore—An Egyptian Serenade—Petition of Sixteen Maids against the Widows of South Carolina—Unlucky Petition to Madame de Maintenon._ 544

Sonnets.

_How the Fourteen Lines were Written—Sonnet on a Fashionable Church—On the Proxy Saint—About a Nose—On Dyspepsia—Humility—Ave Maria!_ 551

Conformity of Sense to Sound.

Articulate Imitation of Inarticulate Sounds—Example from Pope—Milton’s “Lycidas”—From Dyer’s “Ruins of Rome”—Imitations of Time and Motion—“L’Allegro”—Pope’s “Homer”—Dryden’s “Lucretius”—Milton’s “Il Penseroso”—Fine Examples from Virgil—Imitations of Difficulty and Ease. 554

Familiar Quotations from Unfamiliar Sources.

_“No Cross, no Crown”—“Corporations have no Souls”—“Children of a Larger Growth”—“Consistency a Jewel”—“Cleanliness next to Godliness”—“He’s a Brick”—“When at Rome, do as the Romans”—“Taking Time by the Forelock”—“What will Mrs. Grundy Say?”—“Though Lost to Sight, to Memory Dear”—“Conspicuous by its Absence”—“Do as I Say, not as I Do”—“Honesty the Best Policy”—“Facts are Stubborn Things”—“Comparisons are Odious”—“Dark as Pitch”—“Every Tub on its own Bottom”—Two Pages of Examples, Interesting, Amusing, and Instructive._ 556

Churchyard Literature.

Epitaphs of Eminent Men—Appropriate and Rare Inscriptions—Franklin’s Epitaph on Himself—Touching Memorials of Children—Historical and Biographical Epitaphs—Self-Written Inscriptions—Advertising Notices—Unique and Ludicrous Epitaphs—Puns in the Churchyard—Puzzling Inscriptions—Parallels Without a Parallel—Bathos—Transcendental Epitaph—Acrostical Inscriptions—Indian, African, Hibernian, Greek Epitaphs—Patchwork Character on a Tombstone—The Printer’s Epitaph—Specimens of Exceedingly Brief Epitaphs—Highly Laudatory Inscriptions—A Chemical Epitaph—On an Architect—On an Orator—On a Watchmaker—On a Miserly Money-Lender—On a Tailor—On a Dancing Master—On an Infidel—On Voltaire—On Hume—On Tom Paine—“Earth to Earth”—Byron’s Inscription on his Dog. 564

Inscriptions.

Old English Tavern Sign-Boards—Curious Origin of Absurd Signs—“The Magpie and Crown”—“The Hen and the Razor”—“The Swan-with-two-Necks”—Singular Statement of Sir Joseph Banks—“The Goat and Compasses”—The “Signs” of Puritan Times—A Curious “Reformation”—“The Cat and the Fiddle”—“Satan and the Bag of Nails”—Ancient Signs in Pompeii—The Four Awls and the Grave Morris—The “Queer Door,” and the “Pig and Whistle”—Heraldic Signs of the Middle Ages—“I have a Cunen Fox, &c.”—Versified Inscriptions—Cooper and his “Zwei Glasses”—How a Sign Cost a Man his Life—An Inscription in Four Columns—Beer-Jug Inscriptions—Inscriptions on Window-Panes—Quaint Description of an Inn in the Olden Time—Curious Inscriptions on Bells—Baptising and Anointing Bells—The Great Tom of Oxford—Amusing Old Fly-Leaf Inscriptions—Sun-Dial Inscriptions—Memorial Verses—Francke’s Singular Discovery—Golden Mottoes—“Posies” from Wedding Rings. 615

Parallel Passages.

_Imitations and Plagiarisms of Authors—Curious Coincidences—Examples from Young, Congreve, Blair, and Shakespeare—Imitations of Otway, Gray, Milton, and Rogers—The Blindness of Homer and Milton—What Hume said of the Clergy—How Praise Becomes Satire—Parallel Passages from the English Poets—Singular Examples from Shakespeare—Shakespeare’s Acquaintance with the Latin Poets—Thoughts Repeated from Age to Age—Which was the True Original?—Historical Similitudes—What Radbod said with his Legs in the Water—Why Wulf, the Goth, wouldn’t be Baptised—Why an Indian Refused to go to Heaven—Curious Choice of a Woman—Last Words of Cardinal Wolsey—Death of Sir James Hamilton—Solomon’s Judgment Repeated—Why two Women Pulled a Child’s Legs—How Napoleon Decided Between two Ladies—The Hindoo Legend of the Weasel and the Babe—The Faithful Dog: a Welsh Ballad—Singular Murder of a Clever Apprentice—Ballads and Legends—Terrible Story of an old Midwife—What a Clergyman did at Midnight—How Genevra was Buried Alive—The Ghost which Appeared to Antonio—Strange Story of a Ring—Death Prophecies—What was done before three Battles—How an Army of Mice Devoured Bishop Hatto._ 640

Prototypes.

_The Oldest Proverb on Record—Curious Wish of an Old Lady—Cinderella’s Slipper—How an Eagle Stole a Shoe, and a King Chose a Wife—Mrs. Caudle’s Curtain Lectures—“The Charge of the Light Brigade”—Dr. Faustus and the Devil—“Blown up” Cushions—What the “Poor Cat i’ the Adage” Did—The Lady with Two Cork Legs—The Pope’s Bull against the Comet—Lincoln “Swapping Horses”—Wooden Nutmegs—Trade Unions Two Centuries Ago—Consequential Damages—The Babies that Never were Born—The Original Shylock—Druidical Excommunication—Fall of Napoleon I.—Lanark and Lodore—The Song of the Bell—Turgot’s Eulogistic Epigraph on Franklin—Origin of the Declaration of Independence—The Know-Nothings—The first Conception of the Pilgrim’s Progress—Did Defoe Write Robinson Crusoe?—Talleyrand’s Famous Saying: Whence?—Mistake about Drinking out of Skulls—Great Literary Plagiarism—Origin of Old Ballads—The Story of the Wandering Jew._ 699

Curious Books.

Old Books with Odd Titles—“Shot Aimed at the Devils Headquarters”—“Crumbs of Comfort for the Chickens of the Covenant”—“Eggs of Charity Layed by the Chickens of the Covenant, and Boiled with the Water of Divine Love”—“High-heeled Shoes for Dwarfs in Holiness”—“Hooks and Eyes for Believers’ Breeches”—“Sixpennyworth of Divine Spirit”—“Spiritual Mustard Pot”—“Tobacco Battered and Pipes Shattered”—“News from Heaven”—The Most Curious Book in the World—A Book that was never Written or Printed, but which can be Read—The Silver Book at Upsal—What is a Bibliognoste?—What a Bibliographe?—What a Bibliomane?—What a Bibliophile and a Bibliotaphe? 720

Literariana.

_The Mystery of the “Letters of Junius”—Who Wrote Them?—What Canning and Macaulay Thought—A Well-kept Secret—Original MS. of Gray’s Elegy—The Omitted Stanzas—Imitations—How Pope Corrected his Manuscript—Importance of Punctuation: Comical Errors—“A Pigeon Making Bread”—How many Nails on a Lady’s Hand—A Comical Petition in Church—The Soldier who Died for want of a Stop—Indian Heraldry—Anachronisms of Shakespeare—King Lear’s Spectacles—The Heroines of Shakespeare—Shakespeare’s Life and Sonnets Compared—Was He Lame?—The Age of Hamlet—Was He Really Mad?—Additional Verses to “Home, Sweet Home”—The Falsities of History—Two Views of Napoleon—Clarence and the Butt of Malmsey—True Character of Richard III—The Name “America” a Fraud—Lexington and the “First Blood Shed”—Eye-Witnesses in Error—Curious Story of Sir Walter Raleigh—The Difference between Wit and Humor—A Rhyming Newspaper—Buskin’s Defence of Book-Lovers—Letters and their Endings—Shrewd Words of Lord Bacon._ 723

Literati.

_Account of some Famous Linguists—A Man who Knew One Hundred and Eleven Languages—A Cardinal of Many Tongues—Elihu Burrito, the Learned Blacksmith—Literary Oddities—Curious Habits of Celebrated Authors—How they have Written their Books—Racine’s Adventure with the Workmen—Luther in his Study—Calvin Scribbling in Bed—Rousseau, Le Sage, and Byron at Work—Fontaine, Pascal, Fénélon, and De Quincey—Whence Bacon Sought Inspiration—Culture and Sacrifice—The Sorrows and Trials of Great Men—Sharon Turner and the Printers—A Stingy Old Scribbler—Dryden and His Publisher—Jacob Tonson’s Rascality; how He Tried to Cheat the Poet._ 756

Personal Sketches and Anecdotes.

_Anecdote of George Washington—What Lafayette said to the King of France—Peculiarities of the Name Napoleon—How Napoleon Remembered Milton at the Dreadful Battle of Austerlitz—The Emperor’s Personal Appearance—His Opinion of Suicide—Benjamin Franklin’s Frugal Wife—Major André and the “Cow-Chase”—An English View of André and Arnold—How the Astronomer Royal Found an Old Woman’s Clothes—The Boy who set Fire to an Empty Bottle—Curious Views of Martin Luther—The Hero of the Reformation—Carlyle’s Translation of Luther’s Hymn—Curious Account of Queen Elizabeth—What She Said to the Troublesome Priest—What was the Real Color of Her Hair?—Was Shakespeare a Christian?—Personal Description of Oliver Cromwell—How Pope’s Skull was Stolen—What Became of Wickliffe’s Ashes—The Folly of Two Astrologers—Anecdotes of Talleyrand—Parson’s Puzzles._ 763

Historical Memoranda.

The First Blood of the Revolution—The “Tea-Party” at Boston—Tea-Burning at Annapolis—The First American Ships of War—How Quinn Borrowed Twenty Pounds of Shakespeare—Diabolical Proposition of Cotton Mather—A Rod in Pickle for William Penn—How he Escaped—An American Monarchy—Origin of the “Star-Spangled Banner”—Origin of the French Tri-Color—How the Newspapers Changed their Tune—Story of Eugenie’s Flight from France—Rise and Fall of Napoleon III—“L’Empire c’est la Paix”—Jefferson’s Idea of Marie Antoinette—Blücher’s Insanity—The Secret of Queen Isabella’s Daughter—Was Mary Magdalene a Sinner?—The Husband of Mother Goose, and what He Did—History and Fiction: which true?—Verdicts which Posterity have Reversed—Great Events from Little Causes—Why Queen Eleanor Quarreled with her Husband—Story of Queen Anne’s Gloves—How the Flies Helped Forward the Declaration of Independence—The Discovery of America—Story of Annie Laurie—Who was Robin Adair?—Was Joan of Arc Really Burnt?—The Mystery of Amy Robsart’s Death—Anecdotes of William Tell—Who Was He?—“Society” in the Time of Louis XIV—How Cromwell Tricked his Chaplain—The Last Night of the Girondists—Elizabeth, Essex, and the Ring. 782

Multum in Parvo.

Much Meaning in Little Space—Coleridge and the Beasts—“Boxes” that Govern the World—“I Cannot Fiddle”—“Like a Potato”—The Vowels in Order—Balzac’s Instance of Self-Respect—Whom do Mankind Pay Best?—Comical Instance of Wrong Emphasis—“Vive la Mort!”—Motto for all Seasons—Curious Grace before Meat. 823

Life and Death.

What is Death?—Bishop Heber’s “Voyage of Life”—Curious Poem of Dr. Horne—“The Round of Life”—Hugh Peters’ Legacy to his Daughter—Franklin’s Moral Code—How to Divide Time—Living Life over Again—Rhyming Definitions—What is Earth?—Curious Replies—Rhyming Charter of William the Conquerer—Puzzling Question for the Lawyers—What Rabbi Joshua Told the Emperor—Dying Words of Distinguished Persons—Last Prayer of Mary, Queen of Scots—Extraordinary Case of Trance—Curious Question about Lazarus—Preservation of Dead Bodies—Corpse of a Lady Preserved for Eighty Years—Bodies of English Kings Undecayed for many Centuries—Three Roman Soldiers Preserved “Plump and Fresh” for Fifteen Hundred Years—Bodies Converted into Fat—About Mummies—Wonderful Discovery in an Etruscan Tomb—The Reign of Terror—What Became of the Bodies of the French Kings—Jewish Tombs in the Valley of Hinnom—A Whimsical Will—The Tripod of Life—How Many Kinds of Death there Are—Curious Irish Epitaph—Significance of the Fleur de lis—Death of the First Born—Jean Ingelow’s “Story of Long Ago”—“This is not Your Rest”—Causes of Ill Success in Life—Futurity—Longfellow on “The Heart”—An Evening Prayer—Beautiful Thought—Life’s Parting—Destiny—Sympathy—“After;” Death’s Final Conquest—“There is no Death”—Euthanasia. 826

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Alphabetical Whims.

LIPOGRAMMATA AND PANGRAMMATA.

In No. 59 of the Spectator, Addison, descanting on the different species of wit, observes, “The first I shall produce are the Lipogrammatists, or letter droppers of antiquity, that would take an exception, without any reason, against some particular letter in the alphabet, so as not to admit it once in a whole poem. One Tryphiodorus was a great master in this kind of writing. He composed an Odyssey, or Epic Poem, on the adventures of Ulysses, consisting of four-and-twenty-books, having entirely banished the letter A from his first book, which was called Alpha, (as lucus a non lucendo,) because there was not an alpha in it. His second book was inscribed Beta, for the same reason. In short, the poet excluded the whole four-and-twenty letters in their turns, and showed them that he could do his business without them. It must have been very pleasant to have seen this Poet avoiding the reprobate letter as much as another would a false quantity, and making his escape from it, through the different Greek dialects, when he was presented with it in any particular syllable; for the most apt and elegant word in the whole language was rejected, like a diamond with a flaw in it, if it appeared blemished with the wrong letter.”

In No. 63, Addison has again introduced Tryphiodorus, in his Vision of the Region of False Wit, where he sees the phantom of this poet pursued through the intricacies of a dance by four-and-twenty persons, (representatives of the alphabet,) who are unable to overtake him.

Addison should, however, have mentioned that Tryphiodorus is kept in countenance by no less an authority than Pindar, who, according to Athenæus, wrote an ode from which the letter sigma was carefully excluded.

This caprice of Tryphiodorus has not been without its imitators. Peter de Riga, a canon of Rheims, wrote a summary of the Bible in twenty-three sections, and throughout each section omitted, successively, some particular letter.

Gordianus Fulgentius, who wrote “De Ætatibus Mundi et Hominis,” has styled his book a wonderful work, chiefly, it may be presumed, from a similar reason; as from the chapter on Adam he has excluded the letter A; from that on Abel, the B; from that on Cain, the C; and so on through twenty-three chapters.

Gregorio Letti presented a discourse to the Academy of Humorists at Rome, throughout which he had purposely omitted the letter R, and he entitled it the exiled R. A friend having requested a copy as a literary curiosity, (for so he considered this idle performance,) Letti, to show it was not so difficult a matter, replied by a copious answer of seven pages, in which he observed the same severe ostracism against the letter R.

Du Chat, in the “Ducatiana,” says “there are five novels in prose, of Lope de Vega, similarly avoiding the vowels; the first without A, the second without E, the third without I, the fourth without O, and the fifth without U.”

The Orientalists are not without this literary folly. A Persian poet read to the celebrated Jami a ghazel of his own composition, which Jami did not like; but the writer replied it was, notwithstanding, a very curious sonnet, for the letter Aliff was not to be found in any of the words! Jami sarcastically answered, “You can do a better thing yet; take away all the letters from every word you have written.”

This alphabetical whim has assumed other shapes, sometimes taking the form of a fondness for a particular letter. In the Ecloga de Calvis of Hugbald the Monk, all the words begin with a C. In the Nugæ Venales there is a Poem by Petrus Placentius, entitled Pugna Porcorum, in which every word begins with a P. In another performance in the same work, entitled Canum cum cattis certamen, in which “apt alliteration’s artful aid” is similarly summoned, every word begins with a C.

Lord North, one of the finest gentlemen in the Court of James I., has written a set of sonnets, each of which begins with a successive letter of the alphabet. The Earl of Rivers, in the reign of Edward IV., translated the Moral Proverbs of Christiana of Pisa, a poem of about two hundred lines, almost all the words of which he contrived to conclude with the letter E.

The Pangrammatists contrive to crowd all the letters of the alphabet into every single verse. The prophet Ezra may be regarded as the father of them, as may be seen by reference to ch. vii., v. 21, of his Book of Prophecies. Ausonius, a Roman poet of the fourth century, whose verses are characterized by great mechanical ingenuity, is fullest of these fancies.

The following sentence of only 48 letters, contains every letter of the alphabet:—John P. Brady, give me a black walnut box of quite a small size.

The stanza subjoined is a specimen of both lipogrammatic and pangrammatic ingenuity, containing every letter of the alphabet except e. Those who remember that e is the most indispensable letter, being much more frequently used than any other,[1] will perceive the difficulty of such composition.

Footnote 1:

The relative proportions of the letters, in the formation of words, have been pretty accurately determined, as follows:—

A 85 B 16 C 30 D 44 E 120 F 25 G 17 H 64 I 80 J 4 K 8 L 40 M 30 N 80 O 80 P 17 Q 5 R 62 S 80 T 90 U 34 V 12 W 20 X 4 Y 20 Z 2

A jovial swain may rack his brain, And tax his fancy’s might, To quiz in vain, for ’tis most plain, That what I say is right.

The Fate of Nassan affords another example, each stanza containing the entire alphabet except e, and composed, as the writer says, with ease without e’s.

Bold Nassan quits his caravan, A hazy mountain-grot to scan; Climbs jaggy rocks to spy his way, Doth tax his sight, but far doth stray.

Not work of man, nor sport of child, Finds Nassan in that mazy wild; Lax grow his joints, limbs toil in vain— Poor wight! why didst thou quit that plain?

Vainly for succor Nassan calls. Know, Zillah, that thy Nassan falls: But prowling wolf and fox may joy To quarry on thy Arab boy.

§Lord Holland§, after reading the five Spanish novels already alluded to, in 1824, composed the following curious example, in which all the vowels except E are omitted:—

EVE’S LEGEND.

Men were never perfect; yet the three brethren Veres were ever esteemed, respected, revered, even when the rest, whether the select few, whether the mere herd, were left neglected.

The eldest’s vessels seek the deep, stem the element, get pence; the keen Peter, when free, wedded Hester Green,—the slender, stern, severe, erect Hester Green. The next, clever Ned, less dependent, wedded sweet Ellen Heber. Stephen, ere he met the gentle Eve, never felt tenderness: he kept kennels, bred steeds, rested where the deer fed, went where green trees, where fresh breezes, greeted sleep. There he met the meek, the gentle Eve: she tended her sheep, she ever neglected self: she never heeded pelf, yet she heeded the shepherds even less. Nevertheless, her cheek reddened when she met Stephen; yet decent reserve, meek respect, tempered her speech, even when she shewed tenderness. Stephen felt the sweet effect: he felt he erred when he fled the sex, yet felt he defenceless when Eve seemed tender. She, he reflects, never deserved neglect; she never vented spleen; he esteems her gentleness, her endless deserts; he reverences her steps; he greets her:—

“Tell me whence these meek, these gentle sheep,—whence the yet meeker, the gentler shepherdess?”

“Well bred, we were eke better fed, ere we went where reckless men seek fleeces. There we were fleeced. Need then rendered me shepherdess, need renders me sempstress. See me tend the sheep; see me sew the wretched shreds. Eve’s need preserves the steers, preserves the sheep; Eve’s needle mends her dresses, hems her sheets; Eve feeds the geese; Eve preserves the cheese.”

Her speech melted Stephen, yet he nevertheless esteems, reveres her. He bent the knee where her feet pressed the green; he blessed, he begged, he pressed her.

“Sweet, sweet Eve, let me wed thee; be led where Hester Green, where Ellen Heber, where the brethren Vere dwell. Free cheer greets thee there; Ellen’s glees sweeten the refreshment; there severer Hester’s decent reserve checks heedless jests. Be led there, sweet Eve!”

“Never! we well remember the Seer. We went where he dwells—we entered the cell—we begged the decree,—

‘Where, whenever, when, ’twere well Eve be wedded? Eld Seer, tell.’

“He rendered the decree; see here the sentence decreed!” Then she presented Stephen the Seer’s decree. The verses were these:—

“_Ere the green reed be red, Sweet Eve, be never wed; Ere be green the red cheek, Never wed thee, Eve meek._”

The terms perplexed Stephen, yet he jeered the terms; he resented the senseless credence, “Seers never err.” Then he repented, knelt, wheedled, wept. Eve sees Stephen kneel; she relents, yet frets when she remembers the Seer’s decree. Her dress redeems her. These were the events:—

Her well-kempt tresses fell; sedges, reeds, bedecked them. The reeds fell, the edges met her cheeks; her cheeks bled. She presses the green sedge where her check bleeds. Red then bedewed the green reed, the green reed then speckled her red cheek. The red cheek seems green, the green reed seems red. These were e’en the terms the Eld Seer decreed Stephen Vere.

§Here endeth the Legend.§

ALPHABETICAL ADVERTISEMENT.

TO WIDOWERS AND SINGLE GENTLEMEN.—WANTED by a lady, a SITUATION to superintend the household and preside at table. She is Agreeable, Becoming, Careful, Desirable, English, Facetious, Generous, Honest, Industrious, Judicious, Keen, Lively, Merry, Natty, Obedient, Philosophic, Quiet, Regular, Sociable, Tasteful, Useful, Vivacious, Womanish, Xantippish, Youthful, Zealous, &c. Address X. Y. Z., Simmond’s Library, Edgeware-road.—London Times, 1842.

JACOBITE TOAST.

The following remarkable toast is ascribed to Lord Duff, and was presented on some public occasion in the year 1745.

A. B. C. A Blessed Change. D. E. F. Down Every Foreigner. G. H. J. God Help James. K. L. M. Keep Lord Marr. N. O. P. Noble Ormond Preserve. Q. R. S. Quickly Resolve Stewart. T. U. V. W. Truss Up Vile Whigs. X. Y. Z. ’Xert Your Zeal.

THE THREE INITIALS.

The following couplet, in which initials are so aptly used, was written on the alleged intended marriage of the Duke of Wellington, at a very advanced age, with Miss Angelina Burdett Coutts, the rich heiress:—

The Duke must in his second childhood be, Since in his doting age he turns to A. B. C.

ENIGMAS.

The letter E is thus enigmatically described:—

The beginning of eternity, The end of time and space, The beginning of every end, The end of every place.

The letter M is concealed in the following Latin enigma by an unknown author of very ancient date:

Ego sum principium mundi et finis seculorum: Ego sum trinus et unus, et tamen non sum Deus.

THE LETTER H.

The celebrated enigma on the letter H, commonly attributed to Lord Byron,[2] is well known. The following amusing petition is addressed by this letter to the inhabitants of Kidderminster, England—Protesting:

Whereas by you I have been driven From ’ouse, from ’ome, from ’ope, from ’eaven, And placed by your most learned society In Hexile, Hanguish, and Hanxiety; Nay, charged without one just pretence, With Harrogance and Himpudence— I here demand full restitution, And beg you’ll mend your Helocution.

Footnote 2:

Now known to have been written by Miss Catherine Fanshawe.

Rowland Hill, when at college, was remarkable for the frequent wittiness of his observations. In a conversation on the powers of the letter H, in which it was contended that it was no letter, but a simple aspiration or breathing, Rowland took the opposite side of the question, and insisted on its being, to all intents and purposes, a letter; and concluded by observing that, if it were not, it was a very serious affair to him, as it would occasion his being §ILL§ all the days of his life.

When Kohl, the traveller, visited the Church of St. Alexander Nevskoi, at St. Petersburg, his guide, pointing to a corner of the building, said, “There lies a Cannibal.” Attracted to the tomb by this strange announcement, Kohl found from the inscription that it was the Russian general Hannibal; but as the Russians have no H,[3] they change the letter into K; and hence the strange misnomer given to the deceased warrior.

Footnote 3:

The Sandwich Island alphabet has twelve letters; the Burmese, nineteen; the Italian, twenty; the Bengalese, twenty-one; the Hebrew, Syriac, Chaldee, and Samaritan, twenty-two each; the French, twenty-three; the Greek, twenty-four; the Latin, twenty-five; the German, Dutch, and English, twenty-six each; the Spanish and Sclavonic, twenty-seven each; the Arabic, twenty-eight; the Persian and Coptic, thirty-two; the Georgian, thirty-five; the Armenian, thirty-eight; the Russian, forty-one; the Muscovite, forty-three; the Sanscrit and Japanese, fifty; the Ethiopic and Tartarian, two hundred and two each.

A city knight, who was unable to aspirate the H, on being deputed to give King William III. an address of welcome, uttered the following equivocal compliment:—

“Future ages, recording your Majesty’s exploits, will pronounce you to have been a Nero!”

Mrs. Crawford says she wrote one line in her song, Kathleen Mavourneen, for the express purpose of confounding the cockney warblers, who sing it thus:—

The ’orn of the ’unter is ’eard on the ’ill.

Moore has laid the same trap in the Woodpecker:—

A ’eart that is ’umble might ’ope for it ’ere.

And the elephant confounds them the other way:—

A helephant heasily heats at his hease, Hunder humbrageous humbrella trees.

ON THE MARRIAGE OF A LADY TO A GENTLEMAN NAMED GEE

Sure, madam, by your choice a taste we see: What’s good or great or grand without a G? A godly glow must sure on G depend, Or oddly low our righteous thoughts must end: The want of G all gratitude effaces; And without G, the Graces would run races.

ON SENDING A PAIR OF GLOVES.

From this small token take the letter G, And then ’tis love, and that I send to thee.

UNIVOCALIC VERSES.

=A.=—§THE RUSSO-TURKISH WAR.§

Wars harm all ranks, all arts, all crafts appall: At Mars’ harsh blast, arch, rampart, altar, fall! Ah! hard as adamant, a braggart Czar Arms vassal swarms, and fans a fatal war! Rampant at that bad call, a Vandal band Harass, and harm, and ransack Wallach-land. A Tartar phalanx Balkan’s scarp hath past, And Allah’s standard falls, alas! at last.

=E.=—§THE FALL OF EVE.§

Eve, Eden’s Empress, needs defended be; The Serpent greets her when she seeks the tree. Serene, she sees the speckled tempter creep; Gentle he seems,—perversest schemer deep,— Yet endless pretexts ever fresh prefers, Perverts her senses, revels when she errs, Sneers when she weeps, regrets, repents she fell; Then, deep revenged, reseeks the nether hell!

=I.=—§THE APPROACH OF EVENING.§

Idling, I sit in this mild twilight dim, Whilst birds, in wild, swift vigils, circling skim. Light winds in sighing sink, till, rising bright, Night’s Virgin Pilgrim swims in vivid light!

=O.=—§INCONTROVERTIBLE FACTS.§

No monk too good to rob, or cog, or plot. No fool so gross to bolt Scotch collops hot. From Donjon tops no Oronoko rolls. Logwood, not Lotos, floods Oporto’s bowls. Troops of old tosspots oft, to sot, consort. Box tops, not bottoms, school-boys flog for sport. No cool monsoons blow soft on Oxford dons, Orthodox, jog-trot, book-worm Solomons! Bold Ostrogoths, of ghosts no horror show. On London shop-fronts no hop-blossoms grow. To crocks of gold no dodo looks for food. On soft cloth footstools no old fox doth brood. Long storm-tost sloops forlorn, work on to port. Rooks do not roost on spoons, nor woodcocks snort, Nor dog on snow-drop or on coltsfoot rolls, Nor common frogs concoct long protocols.

=U.=—§THE SAME SUBJECT, CONTINUED.§

Dull humdrum murmurs lull, but hubbub stuns. Lucullus snuffs no musk, mundungus shuns. Puss purrs, buds burst, bucks butt, luck turns up trumps; But full cups, hurtful, spur up unjust thumps.

* * * * *

A young English lady, on observing a gentleman’s lane newly planted with lilacs, made this neat impromptu:—

Let lovely lilacs line Lee’s lonely lane.

ALPHABETICAL ALLITERATION.

THE SIEGE OF BELGRADE.

An Austrian army, awfully arrayed, Boldly, by battery, besieged Belgrade; Cossack commanders cannonading come— Dealing destruction’s devastating doom; Every endeavor, engineers essay, For fame, for fortune—fighting furious fray:— Generals ’gainst generals grapple—gracious God! How honors Heaven, heroic hardihood! Infuriate,—indiscriminate in ill, Kindred kill kinsmen,—kinsmen kindred kill! Labor low levels loftiest longest lines— Men march ’mid mounds, ’mid moles, ’mid murderous mines: Now noisy, noxious, noticed nought Of outward obstacles opposing ought: Poor patriots, partly purchased, partly pressed: Quite quaking, quickly quarter, quarter quest, Reason returns, religious right redounds, Suwarrow stops such sanguinary sounds. Truce to thee, Turkey—triumph to thy train! Unjust, unwise, unmerciful Ukraine! Vanish vain victory, vanish victory vain! Why wish ye warfare? Wherefore welcome were Xerxes, Ximenes, Xanthus, Xaviere? Yield! ye youths! ye yeomen, yield your yell! Zeno’s, Zapater’s, Zoroaster’s zeal, And all attracting—arms against acts appeal.

THE BUNKER HILL MONUMENT CELEBRATION.

Americans arrayed and armed attend; Beside battalions bold, bright beauties blend. Chiefs, clergy, citizens conglomerate,— Detesting despots,—daring deeds debate; Each eye emblazoned ensigns entertain,— Flourishing from far,—fan freedom’s flame. Guards greeting guards grown grey,—guest greeting guest. High-minded heroes, hither, homeward, haste. Ingenuous juniors join in jubilee, Kith kenning kin,—kind knowing kindred key. Lo, lengthened lines lend Liberty liege love, Mixed masses, marshaled, Monumentward move. Note noble navies near,—no novel notion,— Oft our oppressors overawed old Ocean; Presumptuous princes, pristine patriots paled, Queens’ quarrel questing quotas, quondam quailed. Rebellion roused, revolting ramparts rose. Stout spirits, smiting servile soldiers, strove. These thrilling themes, to thousands truly told, Usurpers’ unjust usages unfold. Victorious vassals, vauntings vainly veiled, Where, whilesince, Webster, warlike Warren wailed. ’Xcuse ’xpletives ’xtra-queer ’xpressed, Yielding Yankee yeomen zest.

PRINCE CHARLES PROTECTED BY FLORA MACDONALD.

All ardent acts affright an Age abased By brutal broils, by braggart bravery braced. Craft’s cankered courage changed Culloden’s cry; “Deal deep” deposed “deal death”—“decoy,” “defy:” Enough. Ere envy enters England’s eyes, Fancy’s false future fades, for Fortune flies. Gaunt, gloomy, guarded, grappling giant griefs, Here, hunted hard, his harassed heart he heaves; In impious ire incessant ills invests. Judging Jove’s jealous judgments, jaundiced jests! Kneel, kirtled knight! keep keener kingcraft known, Let larger lore life’s levelling lessons loan: Marauders must meet malefactors’ meeds; No nation noisy non-conformists needs. O oracles of old! our orb ordain Peace’s possession—Plenty’s palmy plain! Quiet Quixotic quests; quell quarrelling; Rebuke red riot’s resonant rifle ring. Slumber seems strangely sweet since silence smote The threatening thunders throbbing through their throat. Usurper! under uniform unwont Vail valor’s vaguest venture, vainest vaunt. Well wot we which were wise. War’s wildfire won Ximenes, Xerxes, Xavier, Xenophon: Yet you, ye yearning youth, your young years yield Zuinglius’ zealot zest—Zinzendorf zion-zealed.

CACOPHONOUS COUPLET ON CARDINAL WOLSEY.

Begot by butchers, but by bishops bred, How high his honor holds his haughty head!

ADDRESS TO THE AURORA, WRITTEN IN MID-OCEAN.

Awake Aurora! and across all airs By brilliant blazon banish boreal bears. Crossing cold Canope’s celestial crown, Deep darts descending dive delusive down. Entranced each eve Europa’s every eye Firm fixed forever fastens faithfully, Greets golden guerdon gloriously grand; How Holy Heaven holds high his hollow hand! Ignoble ignorance, inapt indeed— Jeers jestingly just Jupiter’s jereed: Knavish Kamschatkans, knightly Kurdsmen know, Long Labrador’s light lustre looming low; Midst myriad multitudes majestic might No nature nobler numbers Neptune’s night. Opal of Oxus or old Ophir’s ores Pale pyrrhic pyres prismatic purple pours,— Quiescent quivering, quickly, quaintly queer, Rich, rosy, regal rays resplendent rear; Strange shooting streamers streaking starry skies Trail their triumphant tresses—trembling ties. Unseen, unhonored Ursa,—underneath Veiled, vanquished—vainly vying—vanisheth: Wild Woden, warning, watchful—whispers wan Xanthitic Xeres, Xerxes, Xenophon, Yet yielding yesternight yule’s yell yawns Zenith’s zebraic zigzag, zodiac zones.

Pulci, in his Morgante Maggiore, xxiii. 47, gives the following remarkable double alliterations, two of them in every line:—

La casa cosa parea bretta e brutta, Vinta dal vento, e la natta e la notte, Stilla le stelle, ch’a tetto era tutta, Del pane ap_pena_ ne dette ta’ dotte; Pere avea pure e qualche fratta frutta, E svina e scena di botto una botte; Poscia per pesci lasche prese al_l’esca_, Ma il letto al_lotta_ alla frasca fu_fresca_.

In the imitation of Laura Matilda, in the Rejected Addresses occurs this stanza:—

Pan beheld Patroclus dying, Nox to Niobe was turned; From Busiris Bacchus flying, Saw his Semele inurned.

TITLE-PAGE FOR A BOOK OF EXTRACTS FROM MANY AUTHORS.

Astonishing Anthology from Attractive Authors. Broken Bits from Bulky Brains. Choice Chunks from Chaucer to Channing. Dainty Devices from Diverse Directions. Echoes of Eloquence from Eminent Essayists. Fragrant Flowers from Fields of Fancy. Gems of Genius Gloriously Garnished. Handy Helps from Head and Heart. Illustrious Intellects Intelligently Interpreted. Jewels of Judgment and Jets of Jocularity. Kindlings to Keep from the King to the Kitchen. Loosened Leaves from Literary Laurels. Magnificent Morsels from Mighty Minds. Numerous Nuggets from Notable Noodles. Oracular Opinions Officiously Offered. Prodigious Points from Powerful Pens. Quirks and Quibbles from Queer Quarters. Rare Remarks Ridiculously Repeated. Suggestive Squibs from Sundry Sources. Tremendous Thoughts on Thundering Topics. Utterances from Uppermost for Use and Unction. Valuable Views in Various Voices. Wisps of Wit in a Wilderness of Words. Xcellent Xtracts Xactly Xpressed. Yawnings and Yearnings for Youthful Yankees. Zeal and Zest from Zoroaster to Zimmerman.

COMPLIMENTARY CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING CHESS.

Cherished chess! The charms of thy checkered chambers chain me changelessly. Chaplains have chanted thy charming choiceness; chieftains have changed the chariot and the chase for the chaster chivalry of the chess-board, and the cheerier charge of the chess-knights. Chaste-eyed Caissa! For thee are the chaplets of chainless charity and the chalice of childlike cheerfulness. No chilling churl, no cheating chafferer, no chattering changeling, no chanting charlatan can be thy champion; the chivalrous, the charitable, and the cheerful are the chosen ones thou cherishest. Chance cannot change thee: from the cradle of childhood to the charnel-house, from our first childish chirpings to the chills of the churchyard, thou art our cheery, changeless chieftainess. Chastener of the churlish, chider of the changeable, cherisher of the chagrined, the chapter of thy chiliad of charms should be chanted in cherubic chimes by choicest choristers, and chiselled on chalcedon in cherubic chirography.

Hood, in describing the sensations of a dramatist awaiting his debut, thus uses the letter F in his Ode to Perry:—

All Fume and Fret, Fuss, Fidget, Fancy, Fever, Funking, Fright, Ferment, Fault-fearing, Faintness—more F’s yet: Flushed, Frigid, Flurried, Flinching, Fitful, Flat, Add Famished, Fuddled, and Fatigued to that; Funeral, Fate-Foreboding.

The repetition of the same letter in the following is very ingenious:—

FELICITOUS FLIGHT OF FANCY.

“A famous fish-factor found himself father of five flirting females—Fanny, Florence, Fernanda, Francesca, and Fenella. The first four were flat-featured, ill-favored, forbidding-faced, freckled frumps, fretful, flippant, foolish, and flaunting. Fenella was a fine-featured, fresh, fleet-footed fairy, frank, free, and full of fun. The fisher failed, and was forced by fickle fortune to forego his footman, forfeit his forefathers’ fine fields, and find a forlorn farm-house in a forsaken forest. The four fretful females, fond of figuring at feasts in feathers and fashionable finery, fumed at their fugitive father. Forsaken by fulsome, flattering fortune-hunters, who followed them when first they flourished, Fenella fondled her father, flavored their food, forgot her flattering followers, and frolicked in a frieze without flounces. The father, finding himself forced to forage in foreign parts for a fortune, found he could afford a faring to his five fondlings. The first four were fain to foster their frivolity with fine frills and fans, fit to finish their father’s finances; Fenella, fearful of flooring him, formed a fancy for a full fresh flower. Fate favored the fish-factor for a few days, when he fell in with a fog; his faithful Filley’s footsteps faltered, and food failed. He found himself in front of a fortified fortress. Finding it forsaken, and feeling himself feeble, and forlorn with fasting, he fed on the fish, flesh, and fowl he found, fricasseed, and when full fell flat on the floor. Fresh in the forenoon, he forthwith flew to the fruitful fields, and not forgetting Fenella, he filched a fair flower; when a foul, frightful, fiendish figure flashed forth: ‘Felonious fellow, fingering my flowers, I’ll finish you! Fly; say farewell to your fine felicitous family, and face me in a fortnight!’ The faint-hearted fisher fumed and faltered, and fast and far was his flight. His five daughters flew to fall at his feet and fervently felicitate him. Frantically and fluently he unfolded his fate. Fenella, forthwith fortified by filial fondness, followed her father’s footsteps, and flung her faultless form at the foot of the frightful figure, who forgave the father, and fell flat on his face, for he had fervently fallen in a fiery fit of love for the fair Fenella. He feasted her till, fascinated by his faithfulness, she forgot the ferocity of his face, form, and features, and frankly and fondly fixed Friday, fifth of February, for the affair to come off. There was festivity, fragrance, finery, fireworks, fricasseed frogs, fritters, fish, flesh, fowl, and frumentry, frontignac, flip, and fare fit for the fastidious; fruit, fuss, flambeaux, four fat fiddlers and fifers; and the frightful form of the fortunate and frumpish fiend fell from him, and he fell at Fenella’s feet a fair-favored, fine, frank, freeman of the forest. Behold the fruits of filial affection.”

A BEVY OF BELLES.

The following lines are said to have been admirably descriptive of the five daughters of an English gentleman, formerly of Liverpool;—

Minerva-like majestic Mary moves. Law, Latin, Liberty, learned Lucy loves. Eliza’s elegance each eye espies. Serenely silent Susan’s smiles surprise. From fops, fools, flattery, fairest Fanny flies.

MOTIVES TO GRATITUDE.

A remarkable example of the old fondness for antithesis and alliteration in composition, is presented in the following extract from one of Watts’ sermons:—

The last great help to thankfulness is to compare various circumstances and things together. Compare, then, your sorrows with your sins; compare your mercies with your merits; compare your comforts with your calamities; compare your own troubles with the troubles of others; compare your sufferings with the sufferings of Christ Jesus, your Lord; compare the pain of your afflictions with the profit of them; compare your chastisements on earth with condemnation in hell; compare the present hardships you bear with the happiness you expect hereafter, and try whether all these will not awaken thankfulness.

ACROSTICS.

The acrostic, though an old and favorite form of verse, in our own language has been almost wholly an exercise of ingenuity, and has been considered fit only for trivial subjects, to be classed among nugæ literariæ. The word in its derivation includes various artificial arrangements of lines, and many fantastic conceits have been indulged in. Generally the acrostic has been formed of the first letters of each line; sometimes of the last; sometimes of both; sometimes it is to be read downward, sometimes upward. An ingenious variety called the Telestich, is that in which the letters beginning the lines spell a word, while the letters ending the lines, when taken together, form a word of an opposite meaning, as in this instance:—

U nite and untie are the same—so say yo U. N ot in wedlock, I ween, has this unity bee N. I n the drama of marriage each wandering gou T T o a new face would fly—all except you and I— E ach seeking to alter the spell in their scen E.

In these lines, on the death of Lord Hatherton, (1863), the initial and final letters are doubled:—

H ard was his final fight with ghastly Deat h, H e bravely yielded his expiring breat h. A s in the Senate fighting freedom’s ple a, A nd boundless in his wisdom as the se a. T he public welfare seeking to direc t, T he weak and undefended to protec t. H is steady course in noble life from birt h, H as shown his public and his private wort h. E vincing mind both lofty and sedat e, E ndowments great and fitted for the Stat e, R eceiving high and low with open doo r, R ich in his bounty to the rude and poo r. T he crown reposed in him the highest trus t, T o show the world that he was wise and jus t. O n his ancestral banners long ag o, O urs willingly relied, and will do s o. N or yet extinct is noble Hatherto n, N ow still he lives in gracious Littleto n.

Although the fanciful and trifling tricks of poetasters have been carried to excess, and acrostics have come in for their share of satire, the origin of such artificial poetry was of a higher dignity. When written documents, were yet rare, every artifice was employed to enforce on the attention or fix on the memory the verses sung by bards or teachers. Alphabetic associations formed obvious and convenient aids for this purpose. In the Hebrew Psalms of David, and in other parts of Scripture, striking specimens occur. The peculiarity is not retained in the translations, but is indicated in the common version of the 119th Psalm by the initial letters prefixed to its divisions. The Greek Anthology also presents examples of acrostics, and they were often used in the old Latin language. Cicero, in his treatise “De Divinatione,” has this remarkable passage:—“The verses of the Sybils (said he) are distinguished by that arrangement which the Greeks call Acrostic; where, from the first letters of each verse in order, words are formed which express some particular meaning; as is the case with some of Ennius’s verses, the initial letters of which make ‘which Ennius wrote!’”

Among the modern examples of acrostic writing, the most remarkable may be found in the works of Boccaccio. It is a poem of fifty cantos, of which Guinguenè has preserved a specimen in his Literary History of Italy.

A successful attempt has recently been made to use this form of verse for conveying useful information and expressing agreeable reflections, in a volume containing a series of acrostics on eminent names, commencing with Homer, and descending chronologically to our own time. The alphabetic necessity of the choice of words and epithets has not hindered the writer from giving distinct and generally correct character to the biographical subjects, as may be seen in the following selections, which are as remarkable for the truth and discrimination of the descriptions as for the ingenuity of the diction:

GEORGE HERBERT.

G ood Country Parson, cheerful, quaint, E ver in thy life a saint, O ’er thy memory sweetly rise R are old Izaak’s eulogies, G iving us, in life-drawn hue, E ach loved feature to our view.

H oly Herbert, humble, mild, E ’en as simple as a child, R eady thy bounty to dispense, B eaming with benevolence, E ver blessing, ever blest, R escuing the most distrest; T hy “Temple” now is Heaven’s bright rest.

DRYDEN.

D eep rolls on deep in thy majestic line. R ich music and the stateliest march combine; Y et, who that hears its high harmonious strain D eems not thy genius thou didst half profane? E xhausting thy great power of song on themes N ot worthy of its strong, effulgent beams.

REYNOLDS.

R are Painter! whose unequall’d skill could trace E ach light and shadow of the changeful face; Y oung “Samuel’s,” now, beaming with piety, N ow the proud “Banished Lord’s” dark misery, O r “Ugolino’s” ghastly visage, wild, L ooking stern horror on each starving child; D elights not less of social sort were thine, S uch as with Burke, or e’en with Johnson shine.

BURKE.

B rilliant thy genius ’mongst a brilliant throng; U nique thy eloquence of pen and tongue; R ome’s Tully loftier flights could scarce command, K indling thy soul to thoughts that matchless stand E ver sublime and beautiful and grand.

HUBER.

H ow keen thy vision, e’en though reft of sight! U sing with double power the mind’s clear light: B ees, and their hives, thy curious ken has scanned. E ach cell, with geometric wisdom planned, R ich stores of honeyed knowledge thus at thy command.

CRABBE.

C opyist of Nature—simply, sternly true,— R eal the scenes that in thy page we view. “A mid the huts where poor men lie” unknown, B right humor or deep pathos thou hast thrown. B ard of the “Borough” and the “Village,” see— E ’en haughty Byron owns he’s charm’d by thee.

WALTER SCOTT.

W ondrous Wizard of the North, A rmed with spells of potent worth! L ike to that greatest Bard of ours T he mighty magic of thy powers: E ’en thy bright fancy’s offspring find R esemblance to his myriad mind.

S uch the creations that we see— C haracter, manners, life in thee— O f Scotia’s deeds, a proud display, T he glories of a bygone day; T hy genius foremost stands in all her long array.

WORDSWORTH.

W andering, through many a year, ’mongst Cumbria’s hills, O ’er her wild fells, sweet vales, and sunny lakes, R ich stores of thought thy musing mind distils, D ay-dreams of poesy thy soul awakes:— S uch was thy life—a poet’s life, I ween; W orshipper thou of Nature! every scene O f beauty stirred thy fancy’s deeper mood, R eflection calmed the current of thy blood: T hus in the wide “Excursion” of thy mind, H igh thoughts in words of worth we still may find.

IRVING.

I n easy, natural, graceful charm of style, R esembling Goldy’s “Vicar,”—free from guile: V ein of rich humor through thy “Sketch-Book” flows. I magination her bright colors shows. N o equal hast thou ’mongst thy brother band, G enial thy soul, worthy our own loved land.

MACREADY.

M aster Tragedian! worthy all our praise. A ction and utterance such as bygone days C ould oftener boast, were thine. Need we but name R oman Virginius? while our Shakspeare’s fame E ver ’twas thy chief joy and pride to uprear, A nd give us back Macbeth, Othello, Lear. D elight to thousands oft thou gav’st, and now Y ears of calm lettered ease ’tis thine to know.

LONGFELLOW.

L ays like thine have many a charm; O ft thy themes the heart must warm. N ow o’er Slavery’s guilt and woes, G rief and shame’s deep hues it throws; F ar up Alpine heights is heard “E xcelsior,” now the stirring word; “L ife’s Psalm,” now, onward is inviting, L ongings for nobler deeds exciting; O ’er Britain now resounds thy name, W hile States unborn shall swell thy fame.

SOUTHEY.

S erenely bright thy life’s pure stream did glide, O n sweet romantic Derwentwater’s side. U nder great Skiddaw—there, in Epic lays, T hou dream’dst a poet’s dreams of olden days, H ow Madoc wandered o’er the Atlantic wave, E astern Kehama, Roderic the brave, Y ears cannot from our fondest memory lave.

MACAULAY.

M asterly critic! in whose brilliant style A nd rich historic coloring breathes again— C lothed in most picturesque costume the while— A ll the dim past, with all its bustling train. U nder this vivid, eloquent painting, see L ife given anew to our old history’s page; A nd in thy stirring ballad poetry, Y outh’s dreams of ancient Rome once more our minds engage.

OLIVER’S IMPROMPTU.

Oliver, a sailor and patriot, with a merited reputation for extempore rhyming, while on a visit to his cousin Benedict Arnold, after the war, was asked by the latter to amuse a party of English officers with some extemporaneous effusion, whereupon he stood up and repeated the following Ernulphus curse, which would have satisfied Dr. Slop[4] himself:—

B orn for a curse to virtue and mankind, E arth’s broadest realm ne’er knew so black a mind. N ight’s sable veil your crimes can never hide, E ach one so great, ’twould glut historic tide. D efunct, your cursed memory will live I n all the glare that infamy can give. C urses of ages will attend your name, T raitors alone will glory in your shame.

A lmighty vengeance sternly waits to roll R ivers of sulphur on your treacherous soul: N ature looks shuddering back with conscious dread O n such a tarnished blot as she has made. L et hell receive you, riveted in chains, D oomed to the hottest focus of its flames.

Footnote 4:

Tristram Shandy.

ALLITERATIVE ACROSTIC.

The following alliterative acrostic is a gem in its way. Miss Kitty Stephens was the celebrated London vocalist, and is now the Dowager Countess of Essex:—

S he sings so soft, so sweet, so soothing still T hat to the tone ten thousand thoughts there thrill; E lysian ecstasies enchant each ear— P leasure’s pure pinions poise—prince, peasant, peer, H ushing high hymns, Heaven hears her harmony,— E arth’s envy ends; enthralled each ear, each eye; N umbers need ninefold nerve, or nearly name, S oul-stirring §Stephens’§ skill, sure seraphs sing the same.

CHRONOGRAMMATIC PASQUINADE.

On the election of Pope Leo X., in 1440, the following satirical acrostic appeared, to mark the date

M C C C C X L.

Multi Cœci Cardinales Creaverunt Cœcum Decimum (X) Leonem.

MONASTIC VERSE.

The merit of this fine specimen will be found in its being at the same time acrostic, mesostic, and telestic.

=I=nter cuncta micans =I=gniti sidera cœl=I= =E=xpellit tenebras =E= toto Phœbus ut orb=E=; =S=ic cæcas removet JE=S=US caliginis umbra=S=, =V=ivificansque simul =V=ero præcordia mot=V=, =S=olem justitiæ =S=ese probat esse beati=S=.

The following translation preserves the acrostic and mesostic, though not the telestic form of the original:—

In glory see the rising sun, Illustrious orb of day, Enlightening heaven’s wide expanse, Expel night’s gloom away. So light into the darkest soul, JESUS, Thou dost impart, Uplifting Thy life-giving smiles Upon the deadened heart: Sun Thou of Righteousness Divine, Sole King of Saints Thou art.

The figure of a §FISH§ carved on many of the monuments in the Roman Catacombs, is an emblematic acrostic, intended formerly to point out the burial-place of a Christian, without revealing the fact to the pagan persecutors. The Greek word for fish is Ιχθῦς, which the Christians understood to mean Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Saviour,—the letters forming the initials of the following Greek words:—

Ιησους— Jesus Χριστος— Christ, Θεου— of God, Υιος— Son, Σωτηρ— Saviour.

NAPOLEON FAMILY.

The names of the male crowned heads of the extinct Napoleon dynasty form a remarkable acrostic:—

N apoleon, Emperor of the French. I oseph, King of Spain. H ieronymus, King of Westphalia. I oachim, King of Naples. L ouis, King of Holland.

RACHEL.

Rachel, on one occasion, received a most remarkable present. It was a diadem, in antique style, adorned with six jewels. The stones were so set as to spell, in acrostic style, the name of the great artiste, and also to signify six of her principal rôles, thus:

R uby, R oxana, A methyst, A menaide, C ornelian, C amille, H ematite, H ermione, E merald, E milie, L apis Lazuli, L aodice.

This mode of constructing a name or motto by the initial letters of gems was formerly fashionable on wedding rings.

MASONIC MEMENTO.

The following curious memento was written in the early part of last century:—

M—Magnitude, Moderation, Magnanimity. A—Affability, Affection, Attention. S—Silence, Secrecy, Security. O—Obedience, Order, Œconomy. N—Noble, Natural, Neighborly. R—Rational, Reciprocative, Receptive. Y—Yielding, Ypight (fixed), Yare (ready).

Which is explained thus:—

Masonry, of things, teaches how to attain their just Magnitude. To inordinate affections the art of Moderation. It inspires the soul with true Magnanimity. It also teaches us Affability. To love each other with true Affection. And to pay to things sacred a just Attention. It instructs us how to keep Silence, To maintain Secrecy, And preserve Security; Also, to whom it is due, Obedience, To observe good Order, And a commendable Œconomy. It likewise teaches us how to be worthily Noble, Truly Natural, And without reserve Neighborly. It instils principles indisputably Rational, And forms in us a disposition Reciprocative, And Receptive. It makes us, to things indifferent, Yielding, To what is absolutely necessary, perfectly Ypight, And to do all that is truly good, most willingly Yare.

HEMPE.

Bacon says, “The trivial prophecy which I heard when I was a child and Queen Elizabeth was in the flower of her years was—

When Hempe is spun England’s done;

whereby it was generally conceived that after the sovereigns had reigned which had the letters of that word HEMPE, (which were Henry, Edward, Mary, Philip, Elizabeth,) England should come to utter confusion; which, thanks be to God, is verified in the change of the name, for that the King’s style is now no more of England, but of Britain.”

THE BREVITY OF HUMAN LIFE.

_Behold, alas! our days we spend: How vain they be, how soon they end!_ BEHOLD How short a span Was long enough of old To measure out the life of man; In those well-tempered days his time was then Surveyed, cast up, and found but threescore years and ten. ALAS! What is all that? They come and slide and pass Before my tongue can tell thee what. The posts of time are swift, which having run Their seven short stages o’er, their short-lived task is done. OUR DAYS Begun, we bend To sleep, to antic plays And toys, until the first stage end; 12 waning moons, twice 5 times told, we give To unrecovered loss: we rather breathe than live. WE SPEND A ten years’ breath Before we apprehend What ’tis to live in fear of death; Our childish dreams are filled with painted joys Which please our sense, and waking prove but toys. HOW VAIN, How wretched is Poor man, that doth remain A slave to such a state as this! His days are short at longest; few at most; They are but bad at best, yet lavished out, or lost. THEY BE The secret springs That make our minutes flee On wings more swift than eagles’ wings! Our life’s a clock, and every gasp of breath Breathes forth a warning grief, till time shall strike a death. HOW SOON Our new-born light Attains to full-aged noon! And this, how soon to gray-haired night; We spring, we bud, we blossom, and we blast, Ere we can count our days, our days they flee so fast. THEY END When scarce begun, And ere we apprehend That we begin to live, our life is done. Man, count thy days; and if they fly too fast For thy dull thoughts to count, count every day the last.

A VALENTINE.

The reader, by taking the first letter of the first of the following lines, the second letter of the second line, the third of the third, and so on to the end, can spell the name of the lady to whom they were addressed by Edgar A. Poe.

For her this rhyme is penned whose luminous eyes, BRightly expressive as the twins of Lœda, ShAll find her own sweet name, that nestling lies UpoN the page, enwrapped from every reader. SearCh narrowly the lines!—they hold a treasure DivinE—a talisman—an amulet That muSt be worn at heart. Search well the measure— The wordS—the syllables! Do not forget The triviAlest point, or you may lose your labor! And yet theRe is in this no Gordian knot Which one miGht not undo without a sabre, If one could mErely comprehend the plot. Enwritten upoN the leaf where now are peering Eyes scintillaTing soul, there lie perdus Three eloquent wOrds, oft uttered in the hearing Of poets, by poets—aS the name’s a poet’s, too. Its letters, althouGh naturally lying Like the knight PintO—Mendez Ferdinando— Still form a synonym fOr Truth. Cease trying! You will not read the riDdle, though you do the best you can do.

ANAGRAMS.

But with still more disordered march advance (Nor march it seemed, but wild fantastic dance) The uncouth Anagrams, distorted train, Shifting in double mazes o’er the plain.—Scribleriad.

Camden, in a chapter in his Remains, on this frivolous and now almost obsolete intellectual exercise, defines Anagrams to be a dissolution of a name into its letters, as its elements; and a new connection into words is formed by their transposition, if possible, without addition, subtraction, or change of the letters: and the words should make a sentence applicable to the person or thing named. The anagram is complimentary or satirical; it may contain some allusion to an event, or describe some personal characteristic. Thus, Sir Thomas Wiat bore his own designation in his name:—

Wiat—A Wit.

Astronomer may be made Moon-starer, and Telegraph, Great Help. Funeral may be converted into Real Fun, and Presbyterian may be made Best in prayer. In stone may be found tones, notes, or seton; and (taking j and v as duplicates of i and u) the letters of the alphabet may be arranged so as to form the words back, frown’d, phlegm, quiz, and Styx. Roma may be transposed into amor, armo, Maro, mora, oram, or ramo. The following epigram occurs in a book printed in 1660:

Hate and debate Rome through the world has spread; Yet Roma amor is, if backward read: Then is it strange Rome hate should foster? No; For out of backward love all hate doth grow.

It is said that the cabalists among the Jews were professed anagrammatists, the third part of their art called themuru (changing) being nothing more than finding the hidden and mystical meaning in names, by transposing and differently combining the letters of those names. Thus, of the letters of Noah’s name in Hebrew, they made grace; and of the Messiah they made he shall rejoice.

Lycophron, a Greek writer who lived three centuries before the Christian era, records two anagrams in his poem on the siege of Troy entitled Cassandra. One is on the name of Ptolemy Philadelphus, in whose reign Lycophron lived:—

ΠΤΟΛΕΜΑΙΣ ΑΠΟ ΜΕΛΙΤΟΣ—Made of honey.

The other is on Ptolemy’s queen, Arsinoë:—

ΑΡΣΙΝΟΕ. ΕΡΑΣ ΙΟΝ—Juno’s violet.

Eustachius informs us that this practice was common among the Greeks, and gives numerous examples; such, for instance, as the transposition of the word Αρετη, virtue, into Ερατη, lovely.

Owen, the Welsh epigrammatist, sometimes called the British Martial, lived in the golden age of anagrammatism. The following are fair specimens of his ingenuity:—

§Galenus—Angelus.§

Angelus es bonus anne malus; Galene! salutis Humana custos, angelus ergo bonus,

§De Fide—Anagramma quincuplex.§

Recta fides, certa est, arcet mala schismata, non est, Sicut Creta, fides fictilis, arte caret.

§Brevitas—Anagramma triplex.§

Perspicua brevitate nihil magis afficit aures In verbis, ubi res postulat, esto brevis.

In a New Help to Discourse, 12mo, London, 1684, occurs an anagram with a very quaint epigrammatic “exposition:”—

TOAST—A SOTT.

A toast is like a sot; or, what is most Comparative, a sot is like a toast; For when their substances in liquor sink, Both properly are said to be in drink.

Cotton Mather was once described as distinguished for—

“Care to guide his flock and feed his lambs By words, works, prayers, psalms, alms, and anagrams.”

Sylvester, in dedicating to his sovereign his translation of Du Bartas, rings the following loyal change on the name of his liege:—

James Stuart—A just master.

Of the poet Waller, the old anagrammatist said:—

His brows need not with Lawrel to be bound, Since in his name with Lawrel he is crowned.

The author of an extraordinary work on heraldry was thus expressively complimented:—

Randle Holmes. Lo, Men’s Herald!

The following on the name of the mistress of Charles IX. of France is historically true:—

Marie Touchet, Je charme tout.

In the assassin of Henry III.,

Frère Jacques Clement,

they discovered

C’est l’enfer qui m’a crée.

The French appear to have practised this art with peculiar facility. A French poet, deeply in love, in one day sent his mistress, whose name was Magdelaine, three dozen of anagrams on her single name.

The father Pierre de St. Louis became a Carmelite monk on discovering that his lay name—

Ludovicus Bartelemi—

yielded the anagram—

Carmelo se devovet.

Of all the extravagances occasioned by the anagrammatic fever when at its height, none equals what is recorded of an infatuated Frenchman in the seventeenth century, named André Pujom, who, finding in his name the anagram Pendu à Riom, (the seat of criminal justice in the province of Auvergne,) felt impelled to fulfill his destiny, committed a capital offence in Auvergne, and was actually hung in the place to which the omen pointed.

The anagram on General Monk, afterwards Duke of Albemarle, on the restoration of Charles II., is also a chronogram, including the date of that important event:—

Georgius Monke, Dux de Aumarle, Ego Regem reduxi Ano. Sa. MDCLVV.

The mildness of the government of Elizabeth, contrasted with her intrepidity against the Iberians, is thus picked out of her title: she is made the English lamb and the Spanish lioness.

Elizabetha Regina Angliæ, Anglis Agna, Hiberiæ Lea.

The unhappy history of Mary Queen of Scots, the deprivation of her kingdom, and her violent death, are expressed in the following Latin anagram:—

Maria Steuarda Scotorum Regina. Trusa vi Regnis, morte amara cado.

In Taylor’s Suddaine Turne of Fortune’s Wheele, occurs the following very singular example:—

But, holie father, I am certifyed That they your power and policye deride; And how of you they make an anagram, The best and bitterest that the wits could frame.

As thus:

Supremus Pontifex Romanus.

Annagramma:

O non sum super petrum fixus.

The anagram on the well-known bibliographer, William Oldys, may claim a place among the first productions of this class. It was by Oldys himself, and was found by his executors among his MSS.

In word and §WILL I AM§ a friend to you; And one friend §OLD§ is worth a hundred new.

The following anagram, preserved in the files of the First Church in Roxbury, was sent to Thomas Dudley, a governor and major-general of the colony of Massachusetts, in 1645. He died in 1653, aged 77.

THOMAS DUDLEY.

Ah! old must dye. A death’s head on your hand you neede not weare, A dying head you on your shoulders beare. You need not one to mind you, you must dye, You in your name may spell mortalitye. Younge men may dye, but old men, these dye must; ’Twill not be long before you turne to dust. Before you turne to dust! ah! must! old! dye! What shall younge doe when old in dust doe lye? When old in dust lye, what N. England doe? When old in dust doe lye, it’s best dye too.

In an Elegy written by Rev. John Cotton on the death of John Alden, a magistrate of the old Plymouth Colony, who died in 1687, the following phonetic anagram occurs:—

John Alden—End al on hi.

The Calvinistic opponents of Arminius made of his name a not very creditable Latin anagram:—

Jacobus Arminius, Vani orbis amicus; (The friend of a false world.)

while his friends, taking advantage of the Dutch mode of writing it, _H_arminius, hurled back the conclusive argument,

Habui curam Sionis. (I have had charge of Zion.)

Perhaps the most extraordinary anagram to be met with, is that on the Latin of Pilate’s question to the Saviour, “What is truth?”—St. John, xviii. 38.

Quid est veritas? Est vir qui adest. (It is the man who is before you.)

Live, vile, and evil, have the self-same letters; He lives but vile, whom evil holds in fetters.

If you transpose what ladies wear—§Veil§, ’Twill plainly show what bad folks are—§Vile§. Again if you transpose the same, You’ll see an ancient Hebrew name—§Levi§. Change it again, and it will show What all on earth desire to do—§Live§. Transpose the letters yet once more, What bad men do you’ll then explore—§Evil§.

PERSIST.

A lady, being asked by a gentleman to join in the bonds of matrimony with him, wrote the word “§Stripes§,” stating at the time that the letters making up the word stripes could be changed so as to make an answer to his question. The result proved satisfactory.

When I cry that I sin is transposed, it is clear, My resource Christianity soon will appear.

The two which follow are peculiarly appropriate:—

Florence Nightingale, Flit on, charming angel.

John Abernethy, Johnny the bear.

T I M E I T E M M E T I E M I T

This word, Time, is the only word in the English language which can be thus arranged, and the different transpositions thereof are all at the same time Latin words. These words, in English as well as in Latin, may be read either upward or downward. Their signification as Latin words is as follows:—Time—fear thou; Item—likewise; Meti—to be measured; Emit—he buys.

Some striking German and Latin anagrams have been made of Luther’s name, of which the following are specimens. Doctor Martinus Lutherus transposed, gives O Rom, Luther ist der schwan. In D. Martinus Lutherus may be found ut turris das lumen (like a tower you give light). In Martinus Lutherus we have vir multa struens (the man who builds up much), and ter matris vulnus (he gave three wounds to the mother church). Martin Luther will make lehrt in Armuth (he teaches in poverty).

Jablonski welcomed the visit of Stanislaus, King of Poland, with his noble relatives of the house of Lescinski, to the annual examination of the students under his care, at the gymnasium of Lissa, with a number of anagrams, all composed of the letters in the words Domus Lescinia. The recitations closed with a heroic dance, in which each youth carried a shield inscribed with a legend of the letters. After a new evolution, the boys exhibited the words Ades incolumis; next, Omnis es lucida; next, Omne sis lucida; fifthly, Mane sidus loci; sixthly, Sis columna Dei; and at the conclusion, I scande solium.

A TELEGRAM ANAGRAMMATISED.

Though but a late germ, with a wondrous elation, Yet like a great elm it o’ershadows each station. Et malgré the office is still a large fee mart, So joyous the crowd was, you’d thought it a glee mart; But they raged at no news from the nation’s belligerent, And I said let’m rage, since the air is refrigerant. I then met large numbers, whose drink was not sherbet, Who scarce could look up when their eyes the gas-glare met; So when I had learned from commercial adviser That mere galt for sand was the great fertilizer, I bade Mr. Eaglet, although ’twas ideal, Get some from the clay-pit, and so get’m real; Then, just as my footstep was leaving the portal, I met an elm targe on a great Highland mortal, With the maid he had woo’d by the loch’s flowery margelet, And row’d in his boat, which for rhyme’s sake call bargelet, And blithe to the breeze would have set the sail daily, But it blew at that rate which the sailors term gale, aye; I stumbled against the fair bride he had married, When a merle gat at large from a cage that she carried; She gave a loud screech! and I could not well blame her, But lame as I was, I’d no wish to get lamer; So I made my escape—ne’er an antelope fleeter, Lest my verse, like the poet, should limp through lag metre.

Anagrams are sometimes found in old epitaphial inscriptions. For example, at St. Andrews:—

Catharine Carstairs, Casta rara Christiana. Chaste, rare Christian.

At Newenham church, Northampton:—

William Thorneton. O little worth in man.

At Keynsham:—

Mrs. Joane Flover. Love for anie.

At Mannington, 1631:—

Katherine Lougher, Lower taken higher.

Maitland has the following curious specimen:—

How much there is in a word—monastery, says I: why, that makes nasty Rome; and when I looked at it again, it was evidently more nasty—a very vile place or mean sty. Ay, monster, says I, you are found out. What monster? said the Pope. What monster? said I. Why, your own image there, stone Mary. That, he replied, is my one star, my Stella Maris, my treasure, my guide! No, said I, you should rather say, my treason. Yet no arms, said he. No, quoth I, quiet may suit best, as long as you have no mastery, I mean money arts. No, said he again, those are Tory means; and Dan, my senator, will baffle them. I don’t know that, said I, but I think one might make no mean story out of this one word—monastery.

CHRONOGRAMS.

Addison, in his remarks on the different species of false wit, (Spect. No. 60,) thus notices the chronogram. “This kind of wit appears very often on modern medals, especially those of Germany, when they represent in the inscription the year in which they were coined. Thus we see on a medal of Gustavus Adolphus the following words:—

§ChrIstVs DuX ergo trIVMphVs.§

If you take the pains to pick the figures out of the several words, and range them in their proper order, you will find they amount to MDCXVVVII, or 1627, the year in which the medal was stamped; for as some of the letters distinguish themselves from the rest and overtop their fellows, they are to be considered in a double capacity, both as letters and as figures. Your laborious German wits will turn over a whole dictionary for one of these ingenious devices. A man would think they were searching after an apt classical term; but instead of that they are looking out a word that has an L, an M, or a D, in it. When therefore we meet with any of these inscriptions, we are not so much to look in them for the thought as for the year of the Lord.”

Apropos of this humorous allusion to the Germanesque character of the chronogram, it is worthy of notice that European tourists find far more numerous examples of it in the inscriptions on the churches on the banks of the Rhine than in any other part of the continent.

* * * * *

On the title-page of “Hugo Grotius his Sophompaneas” the date, 1652, is not given in the usual form, but is included in the name of the author, thus:—

§franCIs goLDsMIth.§

Howell, in his German Diet, after narrating the death of Charles, son of Philip II. of Spain, says:—

If you desire to know the year, this chronogram will tell you:

§fILIVs ante DIeM patrIos InqVIrIt In annos.§ MDLVVIIIIIIII, or 1568.

The following commemorates the death of Queen Elizabeth:—

My Day Is Closed In Immortality. (1603.)

A German book was issued in 1706, containing fac-similes and descriptions of more than two hundred medals coined in honor of Martin Luther. An inscription on one of them expresses the date of his death, 1546, as follows:—

§ECCe nVnc MorItVs IVstVs In paCe ChrIstI exItV tVto et beato.§

The most extraordinary attempt of this kind that has yet been made, bears the following title:—

Chronographica Gratulatio in Felicissimum adventum Serenissimi Cardinalis Ferdinandi, Hispaniarum Infantis, a Collegio Soc. Jesu.

A dedication to St. Michael and an address to Ferdinand are followed by one hundred hexameters, every one of which is a chronogram, and each gives the same result, 1634. The first and last verses are subjoined as a specimen.

AngeLe CæLIVogI MIChaëL LUX UnICa CætUs. VersICULIs InCLUsa, fLUent In sæCULa CentUM.

Palindromes.

RECURRENT, RECIPROCAL, OR REVERSIBLE WORDS AND VERSES.

The only fair specimen we can find of reciprocal words, or those which, read backwards or forwards, are the same, is the following couplet, which, according to an old book, cost the author a world of foolish labor:—

Odo tenet mulum, madidam mulum tenet Odo. Anna tenet mappam, madidam mappam tenet Anna.

The following admired reciprocal lines, addressed to St. Martin by Satan, according to the legend, the reader will find on perusal, either backwards or forwards, precisely the same:—

Signa te signa; temere me tangis et angis; Roma tibi subito motibus ibit amor.

[St. Martin having given up the profession of a soldier, and having been made Bishop of Tours, when prelates neither kept carriages nor servants, had occasion to go to Rome, in order to consult the Pope upon ecclesiastical matters. As he was walking along the road he met the devil, who politely accosted him, and ventured to observe how fatiguing and indecorous it was for him to perform so long a journey on foot, like the commonest pilgrim. The Saint understood the drift of Old Nick’s address, and commanded him immediately to become a beast of burden, or jumentum; which the devil did in a twinkling by assuming the shape of a mule. The Saint jumped upon the fiend’s back, who at first trotted cheerfully along, but soon slackened his pace. The bishop of course had neither whip nor spurs, but was possessed of a much more powerful stimulus, for, says the legend, he made the sign of the cross, and the smarting devil instantly galloped away. Soon however, and naturally enough, the father of sin returned to sloth and obstinacy, and Martin hurried him again with repeated signs of the cross, till, twitched and stung to the quick by those crossings so hateful to him, the vexed and tired reprobate uttered the foregoing distich in a rage, meaning, Cross, cross yourself; you annoy and vex me without necessity; for owing to my exertions, Rome, the object of your wishes, will soon be near.]

The Palindrome changes the sense in the backward reading; the Versus Cancrinus retains the sense in both instances unchanged, as in this instance:—

Bei Leid lieh stets Heil die Lieb. (In trouble comfort is lent by love.)

Similarly recurrent is the lawyer’s motto,—

Si nummi immunis,

translated by Camden, “Give me my fee, I warrant you free.”

The Greek inscription on the mosque of St. Sophia, in Constantinople,

Νίφον ἀνομήματα μὴ μόναν ὄφιν,[5]

Footnote 5:

Meaning in substance, Purify the mind as well as the body.

presents the same words, whether read from left to right, or from right to left. So also the expressions in English,—

Madam, I’m Adam. (Adam to Eve.) Name no one man. Able was I ere I saw Elba. (Napoleon loq.) Snug & raw was I ere I saw war & guns. Red rum did emit revel ere Lever time did murder. Red root put up to order. Trash? even interpret Nineveh’s art. Lewd did I live, evil I did dwel. Draw pupil’s lip upward.

This enigmatical line surrounds a figure of the sun in the mosaic pavement of Sa. Maria del Fiori, at Florence:—

En giro torte sol ciclos et rotor igne.

These lines are supposed to be addressed to a young man detained at Rome by a love affair:—

Roma ibi tibi sedes—ibi tibi Amor; Roma etsi te terret et iste Amor, Ibi etsi vis te non esse—sed es ibi, Roma te tenet et Amor.

At Rome you live—at Rome you love; From Rome that love may you affright, Although you’d leave, you never move, For love and Rome both bar your flight.

Dean Swift wrote a letter to Dr. Sheridan, composed of Latin words strung together as mere gibberish but each word, when read backwards, makes passable English. Take for example the following short sentences:—

Mi Sana. Odioso ni mus rem. Moto ima os illud dama nam? (I’m an ass. O so I do in summer. O Tom, am I so dull, I a mad man?)

Inscription for a hospital, paraphrased from the Psalms:—

Acide me malo, sed non desola me, medica.

The ingenious Latin verses subjoined are reversible verbally only, not literally, and will be found to embody opposite meanings by commencing with the last word and reading backwards:—

Prospicimus modo, quod durabunt tempore longo, Fœdera, nec patriæ pax cito diffugiet.

Diffugiet cito pax patriæ, nec fœdera longo, Tempore durabunt, quod modo prospicimus.

The following hexameter from Santa Marca Novella, Florence, refers to the sacrifice of Abel (Gen. iv. 4). Reversed, it is a pentameter, and refers to the sacrifice of Cain (iv. 3).

Sacrum pingue dabo non macram sacrificabo, Sacrificabo macram non dabo pingue sacrum.

The subjoined distich arose from the following circumstance. A tutor, after having explained to his class one of the odes of Horace, undertook to dictate the same in hexameter verses, as an exercise (as he said). It cost him considerable trouble: he hesitated several times, and occasionally substituted other words, but finally succeeded. Some of his scholars thought he would not accomplish his task; others maintained that, having begun, it was a point of honor to complete it.

Retro mente labo, non metro continuabo; Continuabo metro; non labo mente retro.

Addison mentions an epigram called the Witches’ Prayer, that “fell into verse when it was read either backward or forward, excepting only that it cursed one way, and blessed the other.”

One of the most remarkable palindromes on record is the following. Its distinguishing peculiarity is that the first letter of each successive word unites to spell the first word; the second letter of each, the second word; and so on throughout; and the same will be found precisely true on reversal.

SATOR AREPO TENET OPERA ROTAS.

But the neatest and prettiest specimen that has yet appeared comes from a highly cultivated lady who was attached to the court of Queen Elizabeth. Having been banished from the court on suspicion of too great familiarity with a nobleman then high in favor, the lady adopted this device,—the moon covered by a cloud,—and the following palindrome for a motto:—

ABLATA AT ALBA.

(Banished, but blameless.)

The merit of this kind of composition was never in any example so heightened by appropriateness and delicacy of sentiment.

Paschasius composed the recurrent epitaph on Henry IV.:—

Arca serenum me gere regem, munere sacra, Solem, arcas, animos, omina sacra, melos.

A very curious continuous series of palindromes was printed in Vienna in 1802. It was written in ancient Greek by a modern Greek named Ambrosius, who called it Πόιημα καρκινικὸν. It contains 455 lines, every one of which is a literal palindrome. A few are selected at random, as examples:—

Ἰσα πασι Ση τε υη, Συ ὁ Μουσηγετης ις απασι. Νεαν ασω μελιφωνον, ὦ φιλε, Μωσαν αεν. Ὠ λακωνικε, σε μονω τω Νομε, σε κινω καλω. Ἀρετα πηγασε σε σα γη πατερα. Σωτηρ συ εσο, ὦ ελεε θεε λεω ος ευς ρητως.

The following line is expressive of the sentiments of a Roman Catholic; read backwards, of those of a Huguenot:—

Patrum dicta probo, nec sacris belligerabo. Belligerabo sacris, nec probo dicta patrum.

These lines, written to please a group of youthful folk, serve to show that our English tongue is as capable of being twisted into uncouth shapes as is the Latin, if any one will take the trouble:—

One winter’s eve, around the fire, a cozy group we sat, Engaged, as was our custom old, in after-dinner chat; Small-talk it was, no doubt, because the smaller folk were there, And they, the young monopolists! absorbed the lion’s share. Conundrums, riddles, rebuses, cross-questions, puns atrocious, Taxed all their ingenuity, till Peter the precocious— Old head on shoulders juvenile—cried, “Now for a new task: Let’s try our hand at Palindromes!” “Agreed! But first,” we ask, “Pray, Peter, what are Palindromes?” The forward imp replied, “A Palindrome’s a string of words of sense or meaning void, Which reads both ways the same: and here, with your permission, I’ll cite some half a score of samples, lacking all precision (But held together by loose rhymes, to test my definition):—

“A milksop, jilted by his lass, or wandering in his wits, Might murmur, ‘Stiff, O dairy-man, in a myriad of fits!’

“A limner by photography dead-beat in competition, Thus grumbled, ‘No, it is opposed; art sees trade’s opposition!’

“A nonsense-loving nephew might his soldier-uncle dun With ‘Now stop, major-general, are negro jam-pots won?’

“A supercilious grocer, if inclined that way, might snub A child with ‘But regusa store, babe, rots a sugar-tub.’

“Thy spectre, Alexander, is a fortress, cried Hephaestion. Great A. said, ‘No, it’s a bar of gold, a bad log for a bastion!’

“A timid creature, fearing rodents—mice and such small fry— ‘Stop, Syrian, I start at rats in airy spots,’ might cry.

“A simple soul, whose wants are few, might say, with hearty zest, ‘Desserts I desire not, so long no lost one rise distressed.’

“A stern Canadian parent might in earnest, not in fun, Exclaim, ‘No sot nor Ottawa law at Toronto, son!’

“A crazy dentist might declare, as something strange or new, That ‘Paget saw an Irish tooth, sir, in a waste gap!’ True!

“A surly student, hating sweets, might answer with elan, ‘Name tarts? no, medieval slave, I demonstrate man!’

“He who in Nature’s bitters findeth sweet food every day, ‘Eureka! till I pull up ill I take rue,’ well might say.”

Equivoque.

COPY OF A LETTER WRITTEN BY CARDINAL RICHELIEU TO THE FRENCH AMBASSADOR AT ROME.

First read the letter across, then double it in the middle, and read the first column.

§Sir§,—Mons. Compigne, a Savoyard by birth, a Friar of the order of Saint Benedict, is the man who will present to you as his passport to your protection, this letter. He is one of the most discreet, the wisest and the least meddling persons that I have ever known or have had the pleasure to converse with. He has long earnestly solicited me to write to you in his favor, and to give him a suitable character, together with a letter of credence; which I have accordingly granted to his real merit, rather I must say, than to his importunity; for, believe me, Sir, his modesty is only exceeded by his worth, I should be sorry that you should be wanting in serving him on account of being misinformed of his real character; I should be afflicted if you were as some other gentlemen have been, misled on that score, who now esteem him, and those among the best of my friends; wherefore, and from no other motive I think it my duty to advertise you that you are most particularly desired, to have especial attention to all he does, to show him all the respect imaginable, nor venture to say any thing before him, that may either offend or displease him in any sort; for I may truly say, there is no man I love so much as M. Compigne, none whom I should more regret to see neglected, as no one can be more worthy to be received and trusted in decent society. Base, therefore, would it be to injure him. And I well know, that as soon as you are made sensible of his virtues, and shall become acquainted with him you will love him as I do; and then you will thank me for this my advice. The assurance I entertain of your Courtesy obliges me to desist from urging this matter to you further, or saying any thing more on this subject. Believe me, Sir, &c. RICHELIEU.

A LOVE-LETTER.

The reader, after perusing it, will please read it again, commencing on the first line, then the third and fifth, and so on, reading each alternate line to the end.

§To Miss M——.§

—The great love I have hitherto expressed for you is false and I find my indifference towards you —increases daily. The more I see of you, the more you appear in my eyes an object of contempt. —I feel myself every way disposed and determined to hate you. Believe me, I never had an intention —to offer you my hand. Our last conversation has left a tedious insipidity, which has by no means —given me the most exalted idea of your character. Your temper would make me extremely unhappy —and were we united, I should experience nothing but the hatred of my parents added to the anything but —pleasure in living with you. I have indeed a heart to bestow, but I do not wish you to imagine it —at your service. I could not give it to any one more inconsistent and capricious than yourself, and less —capable to do honor to my choice and to my family. Yes, Miss, I hope you will be persuaded that —I speak sincerely, and you will do me a favor to avoid me. I shall excuse you taking the trouble —to answer this. Your letters are always full of impertinence, and you have not a shadow of —wit and good sense. Adieu! adieu! believe me so averse to you, that it is impossible for me even —to be your most affectionate friend and humble servant. L——.

INGENIOUS SUBTERFUGE.

A young lady newly married, being obliged to show to her husband all the letters she wrote, sent the following to an intimate friend. The key is, to read the first and then every alternate line only.

—I cannot be satisfied, my dearest friend! blest as I am in the matrimonial state, —unless I pour into your friendly bosom, which has ever been in unison with mine, —the various sensations which swell with the liveliest emotion of pleasure, —my almost bursting heart. I tell you my dear husband is the most amiable of men, —I have now been married seven weeks, and never have found the least reason to —repent the day that joined us. My husband is both in person and manners far from resembling —ugly, cross, old, disagreeable, and jealous monsters, who think by confining to secure— —a wife, it is his maxim to treat as a bosom friend and confidant, and not as a —plaything, or menial slave, the woman chosen to be his companion. Neither party —he says, should always obey implicitly; but each yield to the other by turns. —An ancient maiden aunt, near seventy, a cheerful, venerable, and pleasant old lady, —lives in the house with us; she is the de- light of both young and old; she is ci- —vil to all the neighborhood round, generous and charitable to the poor. —I am convinced my husband loves nothing more than he does me; he flatters me more —than a glass; and his intoxication (for so I must call the excess of his love) —often makes me blush for the unworthiness of its object, and wish I could be more deserving —of the man whose name I bear. To say all in one word, my dear, and to —crown the whole—my former gallant lover is now my indulgent husband; my husband —is returned, and I might have had a prince without the felicity I find in —him. Adieu! may you be blest as I am un- able to wish that I could be more —happy.

DOUBLE-FACED CREED.

The following cross-reading from a history of Popery, published in 1679, and formerly called in New England The Jesuits’ Creed, will suit either Catholic or Protestant accordingly as the lines are read downward in single columns or across the double columns:—

Pro fide teneo sana Quæ docet Anglicana, Affirmat quæ Romana Videntur mihi vana. Supremus quando rex est Tum plebs est fortunata, Erraticus tum Grex est Cum caput fiat papa. Altari cum ornatur Communio fit inanis, Populus tum beatur Cum mensa vina panis. Asini nomen meruit Hunc morem qui non capit, Missam qui deseruit Catholicus est et sapit.

I hold for faith What England’s church allows, What Rome’s church saith, My conscience disavows. Where the king is head The flock can take no shame, The flock’s misled, Who hold the pope supreme. Where the altar’s drest The worship’s scarce divine, The people’s blest, Whose table’s bread and wine. He’s but an ass Who their communion flies, Who shuns the mass, Is Catholic and wise.

REVOLUTIONARY VERSES.

The author of the following Revolutionary double entendre, which originally appeared in a Philadelphia newspaper, is unknown. It may be read in three different ways,—1st. Let the whole be read in the order in which it is written; 2d. Then the lines downward on the left of each comma in every line; and 3d. In the same manner on the right of each comma. By the first reading it will be observed that the Revolutionary cause is condemned, and by the others, it is encouraged and lauded:—

Hark! hark! the trumpet sounds, the din of war’s alarms, O’er seas and solid grounds, doth call us all to arms; Who for King George doth stand, their honors soon shall shine; Their ruin is at hand, who with the Congress join. The acts of Parliament, in them I much delight, I hate their cursed intent, who for the Congress fight, The Tories of the day, they are my daily toast, They soon will sneak away, who Independence boast; Who non-resistance hold, they have my hand and heart. May they for slaves be sold, who act a Whiggish part; On Mansfield, North, and Bute, may daily blessings pour, Confusion and dispute, on Congress evermore; To North and British lord, may honors still be done, I wish a block or cord, to General Washington.

THE HOUSES OF STUART AND HANOVER.

I love with all my heart The Tory party here The Hanoverian part Most hateful do appear And for that settlement I ever have denied My conscience gives consent To be on James’s side Most righteous is the cause To fight for such a king To fight for George’s laws Will England’s ruin bring It is my mind and heart In this opinion I Though none will take my part Resolve to live and die. Lansdowme MSS. 852

THE NEW REGIME.

The following equivoque was addressed to a republican at the commencement of the French Revolution, in reply to the question, “What do you think of the new constitution?”

A la nouvelle loi Je veux être fidèle Je renonce dans l’âme Au régime ancien, Comme épreuve de ma foi Je crois la loi nouvelle Je crois celle qu’on blâme Opposée à tout bien; Dieu vous donne la paix Messieurs les démocrats Noblesse désolée Au diable allez-vous en; Qu’il confonde à jamais Tous les Aristocrats Messieurs de l’Assemblée Ont eux seuls le bon sens.

The newly made law ’Tis my wish to esteem From my soul I abhor The ancient regime My faith to prove good, I maintain the new code I maintain the old code Is opposed to all good. May God give you peace, Messieurs Democrats, Forsaken Noblesse, To the devil go hence. May He ever confound All the Aristocrats The Assembly all round Are the sole men of sense.

FATAL DOUBLE MEANING.

Count Valavoir, a general in the French service under Turenne, while encamped before the enemy, attempted one night to pass a sentinel. The sentinel challenged him, and the count answered “Va-la-voir,” which literally signifies “Go and see.” The soldier, who took the words in this sense, indignantly repeated the challenge, and was answered in the same manner, when he fired; and the unfortunate Count fell dead upon the spot,—a victim to the whimsicality of his surname.

A TRIPLE PLATFORM.

Among the memorials of the sectional conflict of 1861–5, is an American platform arranged to suit all parties. The first column is the Secession; the second, the Abolition platform; and the whole, read together, is the Democratic platform:—

Hurrah for The Old Union Secession Is a curse We fight for The Constitution The Confederacy Is a league with hell We love Free speech The rebellion Is treason We glory in A Free Press Separation Will not be tolerated We fight not for The negro’s freedom Reconstruction Must be obtained We must succeed At every hazard The Union We love We love not The negro We never said Let the Union slide We want The Union as it was Foreign intervention Is played out We cherish The old flag The stars and bars Is a flaunting lie We venerate The heabus corpus Southern chivalry Is hateful Death to Jeff Davis Abe Lincoln Isn’t the Government Down with Mob law Law and order Shall triumph.

LOYALTY, OR JACOBINISM?

This piece of amphibology was circulated among the United Irishmen, previous to the Rebellion of 1798. First, read the lines as they stand, then according to the numerals prefixed:—

1. I love my country—but the king, 3. Above all men his praise I sing, 2. Destruction to his odious reign, 4. That plague of princes, Thomas Paine; 5. The royal bankers are displayed, 7. And may success the standard aid 6. Defeat and ruin seize the cause 8. Of France her liberty and laws.

NON COMMITTAL.

NEAT EVASION.

Bishop Egerton, of Durham, avoided three impertinent questions by replying as follows:—

1. What inheritance he received from his father? “Not so much as he expected.” 2. What was his lady’s fortune? “Less than was reported.” 3. What was the value of his living of Ross? “More than he made of it.”

A PATRIOTIC TOAST.

Most readers will remember the story of a non-committal editor who, during the Presidential canvass of 1872, desiring to propitiate subscribers of both parties, hoisted the ticket of “Gr—— and ——n” at the top of his column, thus giving those who took the paper their choice of interpretations between “Grant and Wilson” and “Greeley and Brown.” A story turning on the same style of point—and probably quite as apocryphal—though the author labels it “historique”—is told of an army officers’ mess in France. A brother-soldier from a neighboring detachment having come in, and a champenoise having been uncorked in his honor, “Gentlemen,” said the guest, raising his glass, “I am about to propose a toast at once patriotic and political.” A chorus of hasty ejaculations and of murmurs at once greeted him. “Yes, gentlemen,” coolly proceeded the orator, “I drink to a thing which—an object that—Bah! I will out with it at once. It begins with an R and ends with an e.”

“Capital!” whispers a young lieutenant of Bordeaux promotion. “He proposes the République, without offending the old fogies by saying the word,”

“Nonsense! He means the Radicale,” replies the other, an old Captain Cassel.

“Upon my word,” says a third, as he lifts his glass, “our friend must mean la Royauté.”

“I see!” cries a one-legged veteran of Froschweiler: “we drink to la Revanche.”

In fact the whole party drank the toast heartily, each interpreting it to his liking.

In the hands of a Swift, even so trivial an instance might be made to point a moral on the facility with which, alike in theology and politics—from Athanasian creed to Cincinnati or Philadelphia platform—men comfortably interpret to their own diverse likings some doctrine that “begins with an R and ends with an e,” and swallow it with great unanimity and enthusiasm.

THE HANDWRITING ON THE WALL.

During the war of the Rebellion, a merchant of Milwaukee, who is an excellent hand at sketching, drew most admirably on the wall of his store a negro’s head, and underneath it wrote, in a manner worthy of the Delphic oracle, “Dis-Union for eber.” Whether the sentence meant loyalty to the Union or not, was the puzzling question which the gentleman himself never answered, invariably stating to the inquirers, “Read it for yourselves, gentlemen.” So from that day to this, as the saying goes, “no one knows how dat darkey stood on de war question.”

Another question is puzzling the young ladies who attend a Western Female College. It seems that one of them discovered that some person had written on the outer wall of the college, “Young women should set good examples; for young men will follow them.” The question that is now perplexing the heads of several of the young ladies of the college is, whether the writer meant what he or she (the handwriting was rather masculine) wrote, in a moral sense or in an ironical one.

HOW FRENCH ACTRESSES AVOID GIVING THEIR AGE.

A servant robbed Mlle. Mars of her diamonds one evening while she was at the theatre. Arrested, he was put upon trial, and witnesses were summoned to bear testimony to his guilt. Among these was Mlle. Mars. She was greatly annoyed at this, as, according to the rules of French practice, the witness, after being sworn, gives his age. Now the age of Mlle. Mars was an impenetrable mystery, for it was a theme she never alluded to, and she possessed the art of arresting time’s flight, or at least of repairing its ravages so effectually that her face never revealed acquaintance with more than twenty years. She was for some days evidently depressed; then, all at once, her spirits rose as buoyant as ever. This puzzled the court—for people in her eminent position always have a court; parasites are plenty in Paris—they did not know whether she had determined frankly to confess her age, or whether she had hit upon some means of eluding this thorny point of practice.

The day of trial came, and she was at her place. The court-room was filled, and when she was put in the witness-box every ear was bent towards her to catch the age she would give as her own. “Your name?” said the presiding judge. “Anne Francoise Hippolyte Mars.” “What is your profession?” “An actress of the French Comedy.” “What is your age?” “——ty years.” “What?” inquired the presiding judge, leaning forward. “I have just told your honor!” replied the actress, giving one of those irresistible smiles which won the most hostile pit. The judge smiled in turn, and when he asked, as he did immediately, “Where do you live?” hearty applause long prevented Mlle. Mars from replying.

Mlle. Cico was summoned before a court to bear witness in favor of some cosmetic assailed as a poison by victims and their physicians. All the youngest actresses of Paris were there, and they reckoned upon a good deal of merriment and profit when Mlle. Cico came to disclose her age. She was called to the stand—sworn—gave her name and profession. When the judge said “How old are you?” she quitted the stand, went up to the bench, stood on tip-toe, and whispered in the judge’s ear the malicious mystery. The bench smiled, and kept her secret.

The Cento.

A cento primarily signifies a cloak made of patches. In poetry it denotes a work wholly composed of verses, or passages promiscuously taken from other authors and disposed in a new form or order, so as to compose a new work and a new meaning. According to the rules laid down by Ausonius, the author of the celebrated Nuptial Cento, the pieces may be taken from the same poet, or from several; and the verses may be either taken entire, or divided into two, one half to be connected with another half taken elsewhere; but two verses are never to be taken together.

The Empress Eudoxia wrote the life of Jesus Christ in centos taken from Homer. Proba Falconia, and, long after him, Alexander Ross, both composed a life of the Saviour, in the same manner, from Virgil. The title of Ross’ work, which was republished in 1769, was Virgilius Evangelizans, sive historia Domini et Salvatoris nostri Jesu Christi Virgilianis verbis et versibus descripta.

Subjoined are some modern specimens of this literary confectionery, called in modern parlance

MOSAIC POETRY.

I only knew she came and went Lowell. Like troutlets in a pool; Hood. She was a phantom of delight, Wordsworth. And I was like a fool. Eastman.

“One kiss, dear maid,” I said and sighed, Coleridge. “Out of those lips unshorn.” Longfellow. She shook her ringlets round her head, Stoddard. And laughed in merry scorn. Tennyson.

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky! Tennyson. You hear them, oh my heart? Alice Cary. ’Tis twelve at night by the castle clock, Coleridge. Beloved, we must part! Alice Cary.

“Come back! come back!” she cried in grief, Campbell. “My eyes are dim with tears— Bayard Taylor. How shall I live through all the days, Mrs. Osgood. All through a hundred years?” T. S. Perry.

’Twas in the prime of summer time, Hood. She blessed me with her hand; Hoyt. We strayed together, deeply blest, Mrs. Edwards. Into the Dreaming Land. Cornwall.

The laughing bridal roses blow, Patmore. To dress her dark brown hair; Bayard Taylor. No maiden may with her compare, Brailsford. Most beautiful, most rare! Read.

I clasped it on her sweet cold hand, Browning. The precious golden link; Smith. I calmed her fears, and she was calm, Coleridge. “Drink, pretty creature, drink!” Wordsworth.

And so I won my Genevieve, Coleridge. And walked in Paradise; Hervey. The fairest thing that ever grew Wordsworth. Atween me and the skies. Osgood.

* * * * *

Breathes there a man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, Shoot folly as it flies? Ah, more than tears of blood can tell, Are in that word farewell, farewell; ’Tis folly to be wise.

And what is Friendship but a name That burns on Etna’s breast of flame? Thus runs the world away. Sweet is the ship that’s under sail To where yon taper points the vale With hospitable ray.

Drink to me only with thine eyes Through cloudless climes and starry skies, My native land, good-night. Adieu, adieu, my native shore; ’Tis Greece, but living Greece no more. Whatever is is right.

Oh, ever thus from childhood’s hour, Daughter of Jove, relentless power, In russet mantle clad. The rocks and hollow mountains rung While yet in early Greece she sung, I’m pleased, and yet I’m sad.

In sceptred pall come sweeping by, O, thou, the nymph with placid eye, By Philip’s warlike son; And on the light fantastic toe Thus hand-in-hand through life we’ll go; Good-night to Marmion.

LIFE.

1.—Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour? 2.—Life’s a short summer, man a flower.

3.—By turns we catch the vital breath and die— 4.—The cradle and the tomb, alas! so nigh.

5.—To be is better far than not to be, 6.—Though all man’s life may seem a tragedy.

7.—But light cares speak when mighty griefs are dumb; 8.—The bottom is but shallow whence they come.

9.—Your fate is but the common fate of all, 10.—Unmingled joys, here, to no man befall.

11.—Nature to each allots his proper sphere, 12.—Fortune makes folly her peculiar care.

13.—Custom does not often reason overrule 14.—And throw a cruel sunshine on a fool.

15.—Live well, how long or short permit, to heaven; 16.—They who forgive most, shall be most forgiven.

17.—Sin may be clasped so close we cannot see its face— 18.—Vile intercourse where virtue has not place.

19.—Then keep each passion down, however dear, 20.—Thou pendulum, betwixt a smile and tear;

21.—Her sensual snares let faithless pleasure lay, 22.—With craft and skill, to ruin and betray.

23.—Soar not too high to fall, but stop to rise; 24.—We masters grow of all that we despise.

25.—Oh then renounce that impious self-esteem; 26.—Riches have wings and grandeur is a dream.

27.—Think not ambition wise, because ’tis brave, 28.—The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

29.—What is ambition? ’Tis a glorious cheat, 30.—Only destructive to the brave and great.

31.—What’s all the gaudy glitter of a crown? 32.—The way to bliss lies not on beds of down.

33.—How long we live, not years but actions tell; 34.—That man lives twice who lives the first life well.

35.—Make then, while yet ye may, your God your friend, 36.—Whom Christians worship, yet not comprehend.

37.—The trust that’s given guard, and to yourself be just; 38.—For, live we how we can, yet die we must.

1. Young. 2. Dr. Johnson. 3. Pope. 4. Prior. 5. Sewell. 6. Spenser. 7. Daniel. 8. Sir Walter Raleigh. 9. Longfellow. 10. Southwell. 11. Congreve. 12. Churchill. 13. Rochester. 14. Armstrong. 15. Milton. 16. Baily. 17. Trench. 18. Somerville. 19. Thompson. 20. Byron. 21. Smollet. 22. Crabbe. 23. Massinger. 24. Crowley. 25. Beattie. 26. Cowper. 27. Sir Walter Davenant. 28. Grey. 29. Willis. 30. Addison. 31. Dryden. 32. Francis Quarles. 33. Watkins. 34. Herrick. 35. William Mason. 36. Hill. 37. Dana. 38. Shakespeare.

CENTO FROM POPE.

’Tis education forms the common mind; Moral Essays. A mighty maze! but not without a plan. Essay on Man. Ask of the learned the way? The learned are blind; Essay on Man. The proper study of mankind is man. Essay on Man.

A little learning is a dangerous thing; Essay on Criticism. Some have at first for wits, then poets passed— Essay on Criticism. See from each clime the learned their incense bring, Essay on Criticism. For rising merit will buoy up at last. Essay on Criticism.

Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise.— Essay on Man. Virtue alone is happiness below; Essay on Man. Honor and shame from no condition rise, Essay on Man. And all our knowledge is ourselves to know. Essay on Man.

Who shall decide when doctors disagree? Moral Essay. One truth is clear, whatever is, is right. Essay on Man. Since men interpret texts, why should not we January and May. Read them by day and meditate by night? Essay on Criticism.

BIBLICAL CENTO.

Cling to the Mighty One, Ps. lxxxix. 19. Cling in thy grief; Heb. xii. 11. Cling to the Holy One, Ps. xxxix. 18. He gives relief; Ps. lxxxvi. 7. Cling to the Gracious One, Ps. cxvi. 5. Cling in thy pain; Ps. lv. 4. Cling to the Faithful One, 1 Thess. v. 24. He will sustain. Ps. xxviii. 8.

Cling to the Living One, Heb. vii. 25. Cling in thy woe; Ps. lxxxvi. 7. Cling to the Loving One, 1 John iv. 16. Through all below; Rom. viii. 38, 39. Cling to the Pardoning One, Isa. lv. 7. He speaketh peace; John xiv. 27. Cling to the Healing One, Exod. xv. 26. Anguish shall cease. Ps. cxlvii. 3.

Cling to the Bleeding One, 1 John i. 7. Cling to His side; John xx. 27. Cling to the Risen One, Rom. vi. 9. In Him abide; John xv. 4. Cling to the Coming One, Rev. xxii. 20. Hope shall arise; Titus ii. 13. Cling to the Reigning One, Ps. xcvii. 1. Joy lights thine eyes. Ps. xvi. 11.

THE RETURN OF ISRAEL.

I will surely gather the remnant of Israel.—§Micah§ ii. 12.

And the Temple again shall be built, And filled as it was of yore; And the burden be lift from the heart of the world, And the nations all adore; Prayers to the throne of Heaven, Morning and eve shall rise, And unto and not of the Lamb Shall be the sacrifice.—§Festus.§

In many strange and Gentile lands Micah v. 8. Where Jacob’s scattered sons are driven, Jer. xxiii. 8. With longing eyes and lifted hands, Lam. i. 17. They wait Messiah’s sign from heaven. Matth. xxiv. 30

The cup of fury they have quaffed, Isa. li. 17. Till fainted like a weary flock; Isa. li. 20. But Heaven will soon withdraw the draught, Isa. li. 22. And give them waters from the rock. Exod. xvii. 6.

What though their bodies, as the ground, Isa. li. 23. Th’ Assyrian long has trodden o’er! Isa. lii. 4. Zion, a captive daughter bound, Isa. lii. 2. Shall rise to know her wrong no more. Isa. liv. 3, 4.

The veil is passing from her eyes, 2 Cor. iii. 16. The King of Nations she shall see; Zech. xiv. 9. Judea! from the dust arise! Isa. lii. 2. Thy ransomed sons return to thee! Jer. xxxi. 17.

How gorgeous shall thy land appear, Isa. liv. 12. When, like the jewels of a bride, Isa. xlix. 18. Thy broken bands, all gathered there, Zech. xi. 14. Shall clothe thy hills on every side! Isa. xlix. 18.

When on thy mount, as prophets taught, Isa. xxiv. 23. Shall shine the throne of David’s Son; Ezek. xxxvii. 22. The Gospel’s latest triumphs brought Micah iv. 2. Where first its glorious course begun. Luke xxiv. 47.

Gentiles and Kings, who thee oppressed, Isa. lx. 14. Shall to thy gates with praise repair; Isa. lx. 11. A fold of flocks shall Sharon rest, Isa. lxv. 10. And clustered fruits its vineyard bear. Joel ii. 22.

Then shall an Eden morn illume Isa. li. 3. Earth’s fruitful vales, without a thorn: Isa. lv. 13. The wilderness rejoice and bloom, Isa. xxxv. 1. And nations in a day be born. Zech. ii. 11.

The §Lord§ his holy arm makes bare; Isa. lii. 10. Zion! thy cheerful songs employ! Zeph. iii. 14. Thy robes of bridal beauty wear, Isa. lii. 1. And shout, ye ransomed race, for joy! Isa. lii. 9.

Macaronic Verse.

“A TREATISE OF WINE.”

The following specimen of macaronic verse, from the commonplace book of Richard Hilles, who died in 1535, is probably the best of its kind extant. The scriptural allusions and the large intermixture of Latin evidently point to the refectory of some genial monastery as its source:—

The best tree if ye take intent, Inter ligna fructifer, Is the vine tree by good argument, Dulcia ferens pondera.

Saint Luke saith in his Gospel, Arbor fructu noscitu, The vine beareth wine as I you tell, Hinc aliis præponitur.

The first that planted the vineyard, Manet in cœli gaudi, His name was Noe, as I am learned, Genesis testimonio.

God gave unto him knowledge and wit, A quo procedunt omni, First of the grape wine for to get, Propter magna mysteria.

The first miracle that Jesus did, Erat in vino rube, In Cana of Galilee it betide, Testante Evangelio.

He changed water into wine, Aquæ rubescunt hydri, And bade give it to Archetcline, Ut gustet tunc primarie.

Like as the rose exceedeth all flowers, Inter cuncta floriger, So doth wine all other liquors, Dans multa salutifera.

David, the prophet, saith that wine Lætificat cor homini, It maketh men merry if it be fine, Est ergo digni nominis.

It nourisheth age if it be good, Facit ut esset juveni, It gendereth in us gentle blood, Nam venas purgat sanguinis.

By all these causes ye should think Quæ sunt rationabile, That good wine should be best of all drink Inter potus potabiles.

Wine drinkers all, with great honor, Semper laudate Dominu, The which sendeth the good liquor Propter salutem hominum.

Plenty to all that love good wine, Donet Deus largiu, And bring them some when they go hence, Ubi non sitient amplius.

THE SUITOR WITH NINE TONGUES.

Τι σοι λεγω, μειρακιον, Now that this fickle heart is won? Me semper amaturam te And never, never, never stray? Herzschätzchen, Du verlangst zu viel When you demand so strict a seal. N’est-ce pas assez que je t’aime Without remaining still the same? Gij daarom geeft u liefde niet If others may not have a treat. Muy largo es mi corazon, And fifty holds as well as one. Non far nell’ acqua buco che I am resolved to have my way; Im lo boteach atta bi, I’m willing quite to set you free: Be you content with half my time, As half in English is my rhyme.

MAGINN’S ALTERNATIONS—HORACE, EPODE II.

Blest man, who far from busy hum, Ut prisca gens mortalium, Whistles his team afield with glee Solutus omni fenore: He lives in peace, from battles free, Nec horret iratum mare; And shuns the forum, and the gay Potentiorum limina. Therefore to vines of purple gloss Altas maritat populos, Or pruning off the boughs unfit Feliciores inserit.

* * * * *

Alphius the usurer, babbled thus, Jam jam futurus rusticus, Called in his cast on th’Ides—but he Quærit Kalendis ponere.

CONTENTI ABEAMUS.

Come, jocund friends, a bottle bring, And push around the jorum; We’ll talk and laugh, and quaff and sing, Nunc suavium amorum.

While we are in a merry mood, Come, sit down ad bibendum; And if dull care should dare intrude, We’ll to the devil send him.

A moping elf I can’t endure While I have ready rhino; And all life’s pleasures centre still In venere ac vino.

Be merry then, my friends, I pray, And pass your time in joco, For it is pleasant, as they say, Desipere in loco.

He that loves not a young lass Is sure an arrant stultus, And he that will not take a glass Deserves to be sepultus.

Pleasure, music, love and wine Res valde sunt jucundæ, And pretty maidens look divine, Provided ut sunt mundæ.

I hate a snarling, surly fool, Qui latrat sicut canis, Who mopes and ever eats by rule, Drinks water and eats panis.

Give me the man that’s always free, Qui finit molli more, The cares of life, what’er they be; Whose motto still is “Spero.”

Death will turn us soon from hence, Nigerrimas ad sedes; And all our lands and all our pence Ditabunt tune heredes.

Why should we then forbear to sport? Dum vivamus, vivamus, And when the Fates shall cut us down Contenti abeamus.

FLY-LEAF SCRIBBLING.

Iste liber pertinet, And bear it well in mind, Ad me, Johannem Rixbrum, So courteous and so kind. Quem si ego perdam, And by you it shall be found, Redde mihi iterum, Your fame I then will sound. Sed si mihi redeas, Then blessed thou shalt be, Et ago tibi gratias Whenever I thee see.

THE CAT AND THE RATS.

Felis sedit by a hole, Intentus he, cum omni soul, Prendere rats Mice cucurrerunt trans the floor, In numero duo, tres, or more— Obliti cats.

Felis saw them, oculis; “I’ll have them,” inquit he, “I guess, Dum ludunt.” Tunc ille crept toward the group, “Habeam,” dixit, “good rat soup— Pingues sunt.”

Mice continued all ludere, Intenti they in ludum vere, Gaudenter. Tunc rushed the felis into them, Et tore them omnes limb from limb, Violenter.

MORAL.

Mures omnes, nunc be shy, Et aurem præbe mihi, Benigne. Sit hoc satis—“verbum sat,” Avoid a whopping big tom-cat Studiose.

POLYGLOT INSCRIPTION.

The following advertisement in five languages, is inscribed on the window of a public house in Germany:—

In questa casa trovarete Toutes les choses que vous souhaitez; Vinum bonum, costas, carnes, Neat post-chaise, and horse and harness. Βους, ὄρνιθές, ἴχθυς, ἄρνες.

PARTING ADDRESS TO A FRIEND,

Written by a German gentleman on the termination of a very agreeable, but brief acquaintance.

I often wished I had a friend, Dem ich mich anvertrauen könnt’, A friend in whom I could confide, Der mit mir theilte Freud und Leid; Had I the riches of Girard— Ich theilte mit ihm Haus und Heerd; For what is gold? ’tis but a passing metal, Der Henker hol’ für mich den ganzen Bettel. Could I purchase the world to live in it alone, Ich gäb’ dafür nicht eine hohle Bohn’; I thought one time in you I’d find that friend, Und glaubte schon mein Sehnen hät ein End; Alas! your friendship lasted but in sight, Doch meine grenzet an die Ewigkeit.

AM RHEIN.

Oh, the Rhine—the Rhine—the Rhine— Comme c’est beau! wie schön! che bello! He who quaffs thy Luft und Wein, Morbleu! is a lucky fellow.

How I love thy rushing streams, Groves of ash and birch and hazel, From Schaffhausen’s rainbow beams Jusqu’à l’écho d’Oberwesel!

Oh, que j’aime thy Brüchen when The crammed Dampfschiff gayly passes!— Love the bronzed pipes of thy men, And the bronzed cheeks of thy lasses!

Oh, que j’aime the “oui,” the “bah,” From thy motley crowds that flow, With the universal “ja,” And the allgemeine “so”!

THE DEATH OF THE SEA SERPENT.

Arma virumque cano, qui first in Monongahela Tarnally squampushed the sarpent, mittens horrentia tella. Musa, look sharp with your Banjo! I guess to relate this event, I Shall need all the aid you can give; so nunc aspirate canenti. Mighty slick were the vessels progressing, Jactata per æquora ventis, But the brow of the skipper was sad, cum solicitudine mentis; For whales had been scarce in those parts, and the skipper, so long as he’d known her, Ne’er had gathered less oil in a cruise to gladden the heart of her owner. “Darn the whales,” cries the skipper at length, “with a telescope forte videbo Aut pisces, aut terras.” While speaking, just two or three points on the lea bow, He saw coming towards them as fast as though to a combat ’twould tempt ’em, A monstrum horrendum informe (qui lumen was shortly ademptum). On the taffrail up jumps in a hurry, dux fortis, and seizing a trumpet, Blows a blast that would waken the dead, mare turbat et aera rumpit— “Tumble up all you lubbers,” he cries, “tumble up, for careering before us Is the real old sea sarpent himself, cristis maculisque decorus.” “Consarn it,” cried one of the sailors, “if e’er we provoke him he’ll kill us, He’ll certainly chaw up hos morsu, et longis, implexibus illos.” Loud laughs the bold skipper, and quick premit alto corde dolorem; (If he does feel like running, he knows it won’t do to betray it before ’em). “O socii”, inquit. “I’m sartin you’re not the fellers to funk, or Shrink from the durem certamen, whose fathers fit bravely at Bunker You, who have waged with the bears, and the buffalo, prœlia dura, Down to the freshets, and licks of our own free enlightened Missourer; You could whip your own weight, catulus sævis sine telo, Get your eyes skinned in a twinkling, et ponite tela phæsello!” Talia voce refert, curisque ingentibus æger, Marshals his cute little band, now panting their foes to beleaguer Swiftly they lower the boats, and swiftly each man at the oar is, Excipe Britanni timidi duo, virque coloris.

(Blackskin, you know, never feels, how sweet, ’tis pro patria mori; Ovid had him in view when he said, “Nimium ne crede colori.”) Now swiftly they pull towards the monster, who seeing the cutter and gig nigh, Glares at them with terrible eyes, suffectis sanguine et igni, And, never conceiving their chief will so quickly deal him a floorer, Opens wide to receive them at once, his linguis vibrantibis ora; But just as he’s licking his lips, and gladly preparing to taste ’em, Straight into his eyeball the skipper stridentem conjicit hastam. Straight as he feels in his eyeball the lance, growing mightly sulky, At ’em he comes in a rage, ora minax, lingua trusulca. “Starn all,” cry the sailors at once, for they think he has certainly caught ’em, Præsentemque viris intentant omnia mortem. But the bold skipper exclaims, “O terque quaterque beati! Now with a will dare viam, when I want you, be only parati; This hoss feels like raising his hair, and in spite of his scaly old cortex, Full soon you shall see that his corpse rapidus vorat æquore vortex.” Hoc ait, and choosing a lance: “With this one I think I shall hit it, He cries, and straight into his mouth, ad intima viscera mittit.” Screeches the creature in pain, and writhes till the sea is commotum, As if all its waves had been lashed in a tempest por Eurum et Notum. Interea terrible shindy Neptunus sensit, et alto Prospiciens sadly around, wiped his eye with the cuff of his paletôt; And, mad at his favorite’s fate, of oaths uttered one or two thousand, Such as “Corpo di Bacco! Mehercle! Sacre! Mille Tonnerres! Potztausend!” But the skipper, who thought it was time to this terrible fight dare finem, With a scalping-knife jumps on the neck of the snake secat et dextrâ crinem, And hurling the scalp in the air, half mad with delight to possess it, Shouts “Darn it—I’ve fixed up his flint, for in ventos vita recessit!”

Concatenation or Chain Verse.

LASPHRISE’S NOVELTIES.

Lasphrise, a French poet of considerable merit, claims the invention of several singularities in verse, and among them the following, in which it will be found that the last word of every line is the first word of the following line:—

Falloit-il que le ciel me rendit amoureux, Amoureaux, jouissant d’une beauté craintive, Craintive à recevoir douceur excessive, Excessive au plaisir qui rend l’amant heureux? Heureux si nous avions quelques paisibles lieux, Lieux où plus surement l’ami fidèle arrive, Arrive sans soupçon de quelque ami attentive, Attentive à vouloir nous surprendre tous deux.

Subjoined are examples in our own vernacular:—

TO DEATH.

The longer life, the more offence; The more offence, the greater pain; The greater pain, the less defence; The less defence, the lesser gain— The loss of gain long ill doth try, Wherefore, come, death, and let me die.

The shorter life, less count I find; The less account, the sooner made; The count soon made, the merrier mind; The merrier mind doth thought invade— Short life, in truth, this thing doth try, Wherefore, come, death, and let me die.

Come, gentle death, the ebb of care; The ebb of care the flood of life; The flood of life, the joyful fare; The joyful fare, the end of strife— The end of strife that thing wish I, Wherefore, come, death and let me die.

TRUTH.

Nerve thy soul with doctrines noble, Noble in the walks of Time, Time that leads to an eternal, An eternal life sublime; Life sublime in moral beauty, Beauty that shall ever be, Ever be to lure thee onward, Onward to the fountain free; Free to every earnest seeker, Seeker at the Fount of Youth, Youth exultant in its beauty, Beauty found in the quest of Truth.

TRYING SKYING.

Long I looked into the sky, Sky aglow with gleaming stars, Stars that stream their courses high, High and grand, those golden cars, Cars that ever keep their track, Track untraced by human ray, Ray that zones the zodiac, Zodiac with milky-way, Milky-way where worlds are sown, Sown like sands along the sea, Sea whose tide and tone e’er own, Own a feeling to be free, Free to leave its lowly place, Place to prove with yonder spheres, Spheres that trace athrough all space, Space and years—unspoken years.

A RINGING SONG.

The following gem is from an old play of Shakspeare’s time, called The True Trojans:—

The sky is glad that stars above Do give a brighter splendor; The stars unfold their flaming gold, To make the ground more tender: The ground doth send a fragrant smell, That air may be the sweeter; The air doth charm the swelling seas With pretty chirping metre; The sea with rivers’ water doth Feed plants and flowers so dainty; The plants do yield their fruitful seed, That beasts may live in plenty; The beasts do give both food and cloth, That men high Jove may honor; And so the World runs merrily round, When Peace doth smile upon her! Oh, then, then oh! oh then, then oh! This jubilee last forever; That foreign spite, or civil fight, Our quiet trouble never!

Bouts Rimés.

Bouts Rimés, or Rhyming Ends, afford considerable amusement. They are said by Goujet to have been invented by Dulot, a French poet, who had a custom of preparing the rhymes of sonnets, leaving them to be filled up at leisure. Having been robbed of his papers, he was regretting the loss of three hundred sonnets. His friends were astonished that he had written so many of which they had never heard. “They were blank sonnets,” said he, and then explained the mystery by describing his “Bouts Rimés.” The idea appeared ridiculously amusing, and it soon became a fashionable pastime to collect some of the most difficult rhymes, and fill up the lines. An example is appended:—

nettle, pains. mettle. remains. natures. rebel. graters. well.

The rhymes may be thus completed:—

Tender-handed stroke a nettle, And it stings you for your pains; Grasp it like a man of mettle, And it soft as silk remains. ’Tis the same with common natures, Use them kindly, they rebel; But be rough as nutmeg-graters, And the rogues obey you well.

A sprightly young belle, who was an admirer of poetry, would often tease her beau, who had made some acquaintance with the muses, to write verses for her. One day, becoming quite importunate, she would take no denial. “Come, pray, do now write some poetry for me—won’t you? I’ll help you out. I’ll furnish you with rhymes if you will make lines for them. Here now:—

please, moan, tease, bone.”

He at length good-humoredly complied, and filled up the measure as follows:—

To a form that is faultless, a face that must—please, Is added a restless desire to—tease; O, how my hard fate I should ever be—moan, Could I but believe she’d be bone of my—bone!

Mr. Bogart, a young man of Albany, who died in 1826, at the age of twenty-one, displayed astonishing facility in impromptu writing.

It was good-naturedly hinted on one occasion that his “impromptus” were prepared beforehand, and he was asked if he would submit to the application of a test of his poetic abilities. He promptly acceded, and a most difficult one was immediately proposed.

Among his intimate friends were Col. J. B. Van Schaick and Charles Fenno Hoffman, both of whom were present. Said Van Schaick, taking up a copy of Byron, “The name of Lydia Kane” (a lady distinguished for her beauty and cleverness, who died a few years ago, but who was then just blushing into womanhood) “has in it the same number of letters as a stanza of Childe Harold has lines: write them down in a column.” They were so written by Bogart, Hoffman, and himself. “Now,” he continued, “I will open the poem at random; and for the ends of the lines in Miss Lydia’s Acrostic shall be used the words ending those of the verse on which my finger may rest.” The stanza thus selected was this:—

And must they fall, the young, the proud, the brave, To swell one bloated chief’s unwholesome reign? No step between submission and a grave? The rise of rapine and the fall of Spain? And doth the Power that man adores ordain Their doom, nor heed the suppliant’s appeal? Is all that desperate valor acts in vain? And counsel sage, and patriotic zeal, The veteran’s skill, youth’s fire, and manhood’s heart of steel?

The following stanza was composed by Bogart within the succeeding ten minutes,—the period fixed in a wager,—finished before his companions had reached a fourth line, and read to them as here presented:[6]—

L ovely and loved, o’er the unconquered brave Y our charms resistless, matchless girl, shall reign! D ear as the mother holds her infant’s grave I n Love’s own region, warm, romantic Spain! A nd should your fate to court your steps ordain, K ings would in vain to regal pomp appeal, A nd lordly bishops kneel to you in vain, N or valor’s fire, law’s power, nor churchman’s zeal E ndure ’gainst love’s (time’s up!) untarnished steel.

Footnote 6:

The truth of this circumstance was confirmed by Mr. Hoffman in the course of a conversation upon that and similar topics several years afterward.

The French also amuse themselves with bouts rimés retournés, in which the rhymes are taken from some piece of poetry, but the order in which they occur is reversed. The following example is from the album of a Parisian lady of literary celebrity, the widow of one of the Crimean heroes. The original poem is by Alfred de Musset, the retournés by Marshal Pelissier, who improvised it at the lady’s request. In the translation which ensues, the reversed rhymes are carefully preserved.

BY DE MUSSET.

Quand la fugitive espérance Nous pousse le coude en passant, Puis à tire d’ailes s’élance Et se retourne en souriant, Où va l’homme? où son cœur l’appelle; L’hirondelle suit le zéphir, Et moins légère est l’hirondelle Que l’homme qui suit son désir. Ah! fugitive enchanteresse, Sais-tu seulement ton chemin? Faut-il donc que le vieux destin Ait une si jeune maîtresse!

BY PELISSIER, DUC DE MALAKOFF.

Pour chanter la jeune maîtresse Que Musset donne au vieux destin, J’ai trop parcouru de chemin Sans atteindre l’enchanteresse; Toujours vers cet ancien désir J’ai tendu comme l’hirondelle, Mais sans le secours du zéphir Qui la porte où son cœur l’appelle. Adieu, fantôme souriant, Vers qui la jeunesse s’élance, La raison me crie en passant; Le souvenir vaut l’espérance.

TRANSLATION.

When Hope, a fugitive, retreating Elbows us, as away she flies, Then swift returns, another greeting To offer us with laughing eyes. Man goeth when his heart is speaking, The swallows through the zephyrs dart, And man, who’s every fancy seeking, Hath yet a more inconstant heart. Enchantress, fugitive, coquetting! Know’st thou then true, alone, thy way? Hath then stern Fate, so old and gray, So young a mistress never fretting?

REVERSED RHYMES.

To sing the mistress, never fretting, Musset gives Fate, so old and gray, Too long I’ve travelled on my way, And ne’er attained her dear coquetting. To find that longing of the heart, I’ve been, like yonder swallow, seeking, Yet could not through the zephyrs dart, Nor reach the wish the heart is speaking. Adieu then, shade, with laughing eyes, Towards whom youth ever sends its greeting; Better, cries Reason, as she flies, Remembrance now, than Hope retreating.

* * * * *

Among the eccentricities of literature may be classed Rhopalic verses, which begin with a monosyllable and gradually increase the length of each successive word. The name was suggested by the shape of Hercules’ club, ῥόπαλον. Sometimes they run from the butt to the handle of the club. Take as an example of each,—

Rem tibi confeci, doctissime, dulcisonoram. Vectigalibus armamenta referre jubet Rex.

Emblematic Poetry.

A pair of scissors and a comb in verse.—§Ben Jonson.§

On their fair standards by the wind displayed, Eggs, altars, wings, pipes, axes, were portrayed.—Scribleriad.

The quaint conceit of making verses assume grotesque shapes and devices, expressive of the theme selected by the writer, appears to have been most fashionable during the seventeenth century. Writers tortured their brains in order to torture their verses into all sorts of fantastic forms, from a flowerpot to an obelisk, from a pin to a pyramid. Hearts and fans and knots were chosen for love-songs; wineglasses, bottles, and casks for Bacchanalian songs; pulpits, altars, and monuments for religious verses and epitaphs. Tom Nash, according to Disraeli, says of Gabriel Harvey, that “he had writ verses in all kinds: in form of a pair of gloves, a pair of spectacles, a pair of pot-hooks, &c.” Puttenham, in his Art of Poesie, gives several odd specimens of poems in the form of lozenges, pillars, triangles, &c. Butler says of Benlowes, “the excellently learned,” who was much renowned for his literary freaks, “As for temples and pyramids in poetry, he has outdone all men that way; for he has made a grid-iron and a frying-pan in verse, that, besides the likeness in shape, the very tone and sound of the words did perfectly represent the noise made by these utensils! When he was a captain, he made all the furniture of his horse, from the bit to the crupper, the beaten poetry, every verse being fitted to the proportion of the thing, with a moral allusion to the sense of the thing: as the bridle of moderation, the saddle of content, and the crupper of constancy; so that the same thing was the epigram and emblem, even as a mule is both horse and ass.” Mr. Alger tells us that the Oriental poets are fond of arranging their poems in the form of drums, swords, circles, crescents, trees, &c., and that the Alexandrian rhetoricians used to amuse themselves by writing their satires and invectives in the shape of an axe or a spear. He gives the following erotic triplet, composed by a Hindu poet, the first line representing a bow, the second its string, the third an arrow aimed at the heart of the object of his passion:—

THE WINE GLASS.

Who hath woe? Who hath sorrow? Who hath contentions? Who hath wounds without cause? Who hath redness of eyes? They that tarry long at the wine! They that go to seek mixed wine. Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth its color in the CUP; when it moveth itself aright. At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.

The following specimen of this affectation was written by George Wither, who lived from 1588 to 1677. It is called by Mr. Ellis a

RHOMBOIDAL DIRGE.

Farewell, Sweet groves, to you! You hills that highest dwell, And all you humble vales, adieu! You wanton brooks and solitary rocks, My dear companions all, and you my tender flocks! Farewell, my pipe! and all those pleasing songs whose moving strains Delighted once the fairest nymphs that dance upon the plains. You discontents, whose deep and over-deadly smart Have without pity broke the truest heart, Sighs, tears, and every sad annoy, That erst did with me dwell, And others joy, Farewell!

The Christian monks of the Middle Ages, who amused themselves similarly, preferred for their hymns the form of

THE CROSS.

Blest they who seek, While in their youth, With spirit meek, The way of truth. To them the Sacred Scriptures now display, Christ as the only true and living way: His precious blood on Calvary was given To make them heirs of endless bliss in heaven. And e’en on earth the child of God can trace The glorious blessings of his Saviour’s face. For them He bore His Father’s frown, For them He wore The thorny crown; Nailed to the cross, Endured its pain, That his life’s loss Might be their gain. Then haste to choose That better part— Nor dare refuse The Lord your heart, Lest He declare,— “I know you not;” And deep despair Shall be your lot. Now look to Jesus who on Calvary died, And trust on Him alone who there was crucified.

A CURIOUS PIECE OF ANTIQUITY, ON THE CRUCIFIXION OF OUR SAVIOUR AND THE TWO THIEVES.

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊ ◊ INRI ◊ ◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊ ◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊ ◊ My God! My God! vers of my tears ◊ ◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊ ◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊ I come to Thee; ◊ ◊ bow down thy blessed ears To hear me wretch, oh, ◊ ◊ let thine eyes, which sleep Did never close, ◊ ◊ behold a sinner weep. Let not, O God! ◊ ◊ my God! my faults, though great And numberless, bet ◊ w ◊ een thy mercy-seat And my poor soul be t ◊ h ◊ rown, since we are taught, ◊◊◊◊◊◊ ◊ ◊ ◊◊◊◊◊◊◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊◊◊◊◊◊◊ ◊◊◊◊◊◊◊ ◊ ◊ ◊◊◊◊◊◊ ◊◊◊◊◊◊◊ Thou, ◊ Lord! remember ◊ est th ◊ y ◊ ne, ◊ if thou beest ◊ sought. ◊◊◊◊◊◊◊ ◊◊◊◊◊◊◊ ◊ ◊ ◊◊◊◊◊◊ ◊◊◊◊◊◊◊ I co ◊ me ◊ not, Lord wit ◊ h ◊ any o ◊ the ◊ r merit Then ◊ wh ◊ at I by my S ◊ a ◊ viour ◊ Ch ◊ rist inherit; Be th ◊ en ◊ his wound ◊ s ◊ my balm, his st ◊ ri ◊ pes my bliss, My crown his ◊ th ◊ orns, my dea ◊ t ◊ h be lo ◊ st ◊ in his, And th ◊ ou ◊ my bles ◊ t ◊ Redeemer, ◊ Sa ◊ viour God! Quit my ac ◊ co ◊ unts, with ◊ h ◊ old thy ◊ v ◊ engeful rod; O beg for ◊ me ◊ my h ◊ o ◊ pes on the ◊ e ◊ are set, Thou Chri ◊ st ◊ forgi ◊ v ◊ e, as well as pay ◊ th ◊ e debt. The liv ◊ in ◊ g fount, the li ◊ f ◊ e, the wa ◊ y ◊ I know; And but ◊ to ◊ thee ◊ o ◊ whither ◊ s ◊ hould I go? All o ◊ th ◊ er helps a ◊ r ◊ e vain, giv ◊ e ◊ thine to me; For by th ◊ y ◊ cross my ◊ s ◊ aving hea ◊ l ◊ th must be. Oh hear ◊ k ◊ en then, wh ◊ a ◊ t I with ◊ f ◊ aith implore, Lest s ◊ in ◊ and death sin ◊ k ◊ me forev ◊ e ◊ r more. Oh Lord! my ◊ G ◊ od! my way ◊ e ◊ s direct ◊ a ◊ nd keep, In ◊ d ◊ eath defe ◊ n ◊ d that from thee I ◊ n ◊ e’er slip; And at the do ◊ om ◊ let ◊ m ◊ e be raise ◊ d ◊ then, To liv ◊ e ◊ with the ◊ e. ◊ Sweet Jes ◊ us ◊ say, Amen! ◊◊◊◊◊◊ ◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊ ◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

EXPLANATION.

The middle cross represents our Saviour; those on either side, the two thieves. On the top and down the middle cross are our Saviour’s expression, “My God! My God! why hast thou forsaken me?” and on the top of the cross is the Latin inscription, “INRI”—Jesus Nazarenus Rex Judæorum, i.e. Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews. Upon the cross on the right-hand is the prayer of one of the thieves:—“Lord! remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.” On the left-hand cross is the saying, or reproach, of the other:—“If thou beest the Christ, save thyself and us.” The whole, comprised together, makes a piece of excellent poetry, which is to be read across all the columns, and makes as many lines as there are letters in the alphabet. It is perhaps one of the most curious pieces of composition to be found on record.

INGENIOUS CYPHER

The following was written by Prof. Whewell at the request of a young lady:—

U 0 a 0 but I 0 U, O 0 no 0 but O 0 me; O let not my 0 a 0 go. But give 0 0 I 0 U so.

Thus de-cyphered:

(You sigh for a cypher, but I sigh for you; O sigh for no cypher, but O sigh for me: O let not my sigh for a cypher go, But give sigh for sigh, for I sigh for you so.)

TYPOGRAPHICAL.

We once saw a young man gazing at the *ry heavens, with a † in 1 ☞ and a ︷ of pistols in the other. We endeavored to attract his attention by .ing to a ¶ in a paper we held in our ☞, relating 2 a young man in that § of the country, who had left home in a state of mental derangement. He dropped the † and pistols from his ☞☜ with the !

“It is I of whom U read. I left home be4 my friends knew of my design. I had s0 the ☞ of a girl who refused 2 lis10 2 me, but smiled b9nly on another. I ——ed madly from the house, uttering a wild ’ 2 the god of love, and without replying 2 the ??? of my friends, came here with this † & ︷ of pistols, 2 put a . 2 my existence. My case has no || in this §.”

OXFORD JOKE.

A gentleman entered the room of Dr. Barton, Warden of Merton College, and told him that Dr. Vowel was dead. “What!” said he, “Dr. Vowel dead! well, thank heaven it was neither U nor I.”

* * * * *

In an old church in Westchester county, N. Y., the following consonants are written beside the altar, under the Ten Commandments. What vowel is to be placed between them, to make sense and rhyme of the couplet?

P. R. S. V. R. Y. P. R. F. C. T. M. N. V. R. K. P. T. H. S. P. R. C. P. T. S. T. N.

ESSAY TO MISS CATHARINE JAY.

An S A now I mean 2 write 2 U sweet K T J, The girl without a ||, The belle of U T K.

I 1 der if U got that 1 I wrote 2 U B 4 I sailed in the R K D A, And sent by L N Moore.

My M T head will scarce contain A calm I D A bright But A T miles from U I must M︷ this chance 2 write.

And 1st, should N E N V U, B E Z, mind it not, Should N E friendship show, B true; They should not B forgot

From virt U nev R D V 8; Her influence B 9 A like induces 10 dern S, Or 40 tude D vine.

And if U cannot cut a —— Or cut an ! I hope U’ll put a . 2 1 ?.

R U for an X ation 2, My cous N?—heart and ☞ He off R’s in a ¶ A § 2 of land.

He says he loves U 2 X S, U R virtuous and Y’s, In X L N C U X L All others in his i’s.

This S A, until U I C, I pray U 2 X Q’s, And do not burn in F E G My young and wayward muse.

Now fare U well, dear K T J, I trust that U R true— When this U C, then you can say, An S A I O U.

Monosyllables.

“And ten low words oft creep in one dull line.”

Some of our best writers have very properly taken exception to the above line in Pope’s Essay on Criticism, and have shown, by reference to abundant examples, that many of the finest passages in our language are nearly, if not altogether, monosyllabic. Indeed, it could not well be otherwise, if it be true that, as Dean Swift has remarked, the English language is “overstocked with monosyllables.” It contains more than five hundred formed by the vowel a alone; four hundred and fifty by the vowel e; nearly four hundred by the vowel i; more than four hundred by the vowel o; and two hundred and sixty by the vowel u; besides a large number formed by diphthongs. Floy has written a lengthy and very ingenious article, entirely in monosyllables, in which he undertakes, as he says, to “prove that short words, in spite of the sneer in the text, need not creep, nor be dull, but that they give strength, and life, and fire to the verse of those who know how to use them.”

Pope himself, however, has confuted his own words by his admirable writings more effectively than could be done by labored argument. Many of the best lines in the Essay above referred to, as well as in the Essay on Man,—and there are few “dull” or “creeping” verses to be found in either,—are made up entirely of monosyllables, or contain but one word of greater length, or a contracted word pronounced as one syllable. The Universal Prayer—one of the most beautiful and elaborate pieces, both in sentiment and versification, ever produced in any language—contains three hundred and four words, of which there are two hundred and forty-nine monosyllables to fifty-five polysyllables, thus averaging but one of the latter to every line. A single stanza is appended as a specimen:—

If I am right, thy grace impart Still in the right to stay; If I am wrong, oh, teach my heart To find that better way!

Rogers, conversing on this subject, cited two lines from Eloisa to Abelard, which he declared could not possibly be improved:—

Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press’d; Give all thou canst—and let me dream the rest.

Among the illustrations employed by Floy, are numerous selections from the hymnology in common congregational use, such as the following:—

Sweet is the work, my God, my King, To praise thy name, give thanks, and sing; To show thy love by morning light, And talk of all thy truth at night.—§Watts.§

Are there no foes for me to face? Must I not stem the flood? Is this vile world a friend to grace To help me on to God?—§Watts.§

Save me from death; from hell set free; Death, hell, are but the want of thee: My life, my only heav’n thou art,— O might I feel thee in my heart!—§C. Wesley.§

The same writer, to show Shakspeare’s fondness for small words, and their frequent subservience to some of his most masterly efforts, enters upon a monosyllabic analysis of King Lear, quoting from it freely throughout. Those who read the play with reference to this point will be struck with the remarkable number of forcible passages made up of words of one syllable:—

Thou know’st the first time that we smell the air, We wawl and cry: I will preach to thee; mark me. When we are born, we cry that we are come To this great stage of fools.—This a good block?—Act IV. Sc. 6.

The following occurs in the play of King John, where the King is pausing in his wish to incite Hubert to murder Arthur:—

Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet; But thou shalt have; and creep time ne’er so slow, Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good. I had a thing to say.—But let it go.—Act III. Sc. 3.

But who I was, or where, or from what cause, Knew not; to speak I tried, and forthwith spake ——Thou sun, said I, fair light, And thou enlightened earth, so fresh and gay, Ye hills, and dales, ye rivers, woods, and plains, And ye that live and move, fair creatures, tell, Tell, if ye saw how I came thus, how here?— Tell me, how may I know Him, how adore, From whom I have that thus I move and live?—Paradise Lost, B. VIII.

Herrick says, in his address to the daffodils:—

We have short time to stay as you, We have as short a spring; As quick a growth to meet decay As you or any thing. We die As your hours do, and dry Like to the rain, Or as the pearls of dew.

Now I am here, what thou wilt do for me, None of my books will show; I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree, For sure I then should grow To fruit or shade: at least some bird might trust Her household to me, and I should be just.—§George Herbert.§

Thou who hast given me eyes to see And love this sight so fair, Give me a heart to find out Thee, And read Thee everywhere.—§Keble.§

The bell strikes one. We take no note of time Save by its loss; to give it then a tongue Were wise in man.—§Young.§

Ah, yes! the hour is come When thou must haste thee home, Pure soul! to Him who calls. The God who gave thee breath Walks by the side of death, And naught that step appalls.—§Landor.§

New light new love, new love new life hath bred; A life that lives by love, and loves by light; A love to Him to whom all loves are wed; A light to whom the sun is darkest night: Eye’s light, heart’s love, soul’s only life, He is; Life, soul, love, heart, light, eyes, and all are His; He eye, light, heart, love, soul; He all my joy and bliss.— §Fletcher’s§ Purple Island.

Bailey’s Festus, that extraordinary poem the perusal of which makes the reader feel as if he had “eaten of the insane root that takes the reason prisoner,” abounds with examples:—

Night brings out stars as sorrow shows us truths: Though many, yet they help not; bright, they light not. They are too late to serve us; and sad things Are aye too true. We never see the stars Till we can see naught but them. So with truth. And yet if one would look down a deep well, Even at noon, we might see those same stars——

Life’s more than breath, and the quick round of blood— We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths— We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most—feels the noblest—acts the best. Life’s but a means unto an end—

§Helen§ (sings.) Oh! love is like the rose, And a month it may not see, Ere it withers where it grows— Rosalie!

I loved thee from afar; Oh! my heart was lift to thee Like a glass up to a star— Rosalie!

Thine eye was glassed in mine As the moon is in the sea, And its shine is on the brine— Rosalie!

The rose hath lost its red, And the star is in the sea, And the briny tear is shed— Rosalie!

§Festus.§ What the stars are to the night, my love, What its pearls are to the sea, What the dew is to the day, my love, Thy beauty is to me.

We may say that the sun is dead, and gone Forever; and may swear he will rise no more; The skies may put on mourning for their God, And earth heap ashes on her head; but who Shall keep the sun back when he thinks to rise? Where is the chain shall bind him? Where the cell Shall hold him? Hell he would burn down to embers, And would lift up the world with a lever of light Out of his way: yet, know ye, ’twere thrice less To do thrice this, than keep the soul from God.

Many of the most expressive sentences in the Bible are monosyllabic. A few are subjoined, selected at random:—

And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good.—Gen. I.

At her feet he bowed, he fell, he lay down: at her feet he bowed, he fell: where he bowed, there he fell down dead.—Judges V.

O Lord my God, I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed me. O Lord, thou hast brought up my soul from the grave: thou hast kept me alive, that I should not go down to the pit. Sing unto the Lord, O ye saints of his, and give thanks.—Psalm XXX.

And he said unto me, Son of man, can these bones live?—Ezek. XXXVII.

Prove all things; hold fast that which is good.—1 Thess. V.

For if we be dead with him, we shall also live with him.—2 Tim. II.

For the great day of his wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand?—Rev. VI.

And the gates of it shall not be shut at all by day; for there shall be no night there.—Rev. XXI.

THE POWER OF SHORT WORDS.

Think not that strength lies in the big round word, Or that the brief and plain must needs be weak. To whom can this be true who once has heard The cry for help, the tongue that all men speak, When want or woe or fear is in the throat, So that each word gasped out is like a shriek Pressed from the sore heart, or a strange wild note, Sung by some fay or fiend? There is a strength Which dies if stretched too far or spun too fine, Which has more height than breadth, more depth than length. Let but this force of thought and speech be mine, And he that will may take the sleek fat phrase Which glows and burns not, though it gleam and shine— Light, but no heat—a flash, but not a blaze!

Nor is it mere strength that the short word boasts: It serves of more than fight or storm to tell, The roar of waves that clash on rock-bound coasts, The crash of tall trees when the wild winds swell, The roar of guns, the groans of men that die On blood-stained fields. It has a voice as well For them that far off on their sick-beds lie; For them that weep, for them that mourn the dead; For them that laugh and dance and clap the hand; To joy’s quick step, as well as grief’s slow tread, The sweet, plain words we learnt at first keep time, And though the theme be sad, or gay, or grand, With each, with all, these may be made to chime, In thought, or speech, or song, in prose or rhyme. §Dr. Alexander§, Princeton Magazine.

The Bible.

God’s cabinet of revealed counsel ’tis, Where weal and woe are ordered so That every man may know which shall be his; Unless his own mistake false application make.

It is the index to eternity. He cannot miss of endless bliss, That takes this chart to steer by, Nor can he be mistook, that speaketh by this book.

It is the book of God. What if I should Say, God of books, let him that looks Angry at that expression, as too bold, His thoughts in silence smother, till he find such another.

ACCURACY OF THE BIBLE.

One of the most remarkable results of modern research is the confirmation of the accuracy of the historical books of the Old Testament. The ruins of Babylon and Nineveh shed a light on those books which no skepticism can invalidate. What surprises us most is their marvellous accuracy in minute details, which are now substantiated by recent discoveries. The fact seems to be that when writing was laboriously performed on stone, men had an almost superstitious conscientiousness in making their records true, and had not learned the modern indifference to truth which our facile modes of communicating thought have encouraged. A statement to be chiselled on rock must be correct; a statement which can be written in five minutes is likely to embody only first impressions, which may be amended in five minutes thereafter. Hence it comes to pass that we know more exactly many things which took place in the wars between Sennacherib and Hezekiah, than we know what is the precise truth with regard to some of the occurrences in the battle of Bunker’s Hill. Sir Henry Rawlinson, speaking of his researches in Babylon, states that the name and situation of every town of note in ancient Assyria, mentioned in the Bible, can be substantiated by the ruins of that city. The visit of the Queen of Sheba to Solomon is perfectly verified. The prosecution of the researches will be regarded with great interest as corroborating the truth of Scripture.

An astonishing feature of the word of God is, notwithstanding the time at which its compositions were written, and the multitude of the topics to which it alludes, there is not one physical error,—not one assertion or allusion disproved by the progress of modern science. None of those mistakes which the science of each succeeding age discovered in the books preceding; above all, none of those absurdities which modern astronomy indicates in such great numbers in the writings of the ancients,—in their sacred codes, in their philosophy, and even in the finest pages of the fathers of the Church,—not one of these errors is to be found in any of our sacred books. Nothing there will ever contradict that which, after so many ages, the investigations of the learned world have been able to reveal to us on the state of our globe, or on that of the heavens. Peruse with care the Scriptures from one end to the other, to find such blemishes, and, whilst you apply yourselves to this examination, remember that it is a book which speaks of every thing, which describes nature, which recites its creation, which tells us of the water, of the atmosphere, of the mountains, of the animals, and of the plants. It is a book which teaches us the first revolutions of the world, and which also foretells its last. It recounts them in the circumstantial language of history, it extols them in the sublimest strains of poetry, and it chants them in the charms of glowing song. It is a book which is full of Oriental rapture, elevation, variety, and boldness. It is a book which speaks of the heavenly and invisible world, whilst it also speaks of the earth and things visible. It is a book which nearly fifty writers, of every degree of cultivation, of every state, of every condition, and living through the course of fifteen hundred years, have concurred to make. It is a book which was written in the centre of Asia, in the sands of Arabia, in the deserts of Judea, in the court of the Temple of the Jews, in the music-schools of the prophets of Bethel and Jericho, in the sumptuous palaces of Babylon, and on the idolatrous banks of Chebar; and finally, in the centre of Western civilization, in the midst of the Jews and of their ignorance, in the midst of polytheism and its sad philosophy. It is a book whose first writer had been forty years a pupil of the magicians of Egypt, in whose opinion the sun, the stars, and elements were endowed with intelligence, reacted on the elements, and governed the world by a perpetual illuvium. It is a book whose first writer preceded, by more than nine hundred years, the most ancient philosophers of ancient Greece and Asia,—the Thaleses, and the Pythagorases, the Zaleucuses, the Xenophons, and the Confuciuses. It is a book which carries its narrations even to the hierarchies of angels—even to the most distant epochs of the future, and the glorious scenes of the last day. Well: search among its fifty authors, search among its sixty-six books, its eleven hundred and eighty-nine chapters, and its thirty-one thousand one hundred and seventy-three verses; search for only one of those thousand errors which the ancients and moderns have committed in speaking of the heavens or of the earth—of their revolutions, of their elements; search—but you will find none.

THE TESTIMONY OF LEARNED MEN.

§Sir William Jones’§ opinion of the Bible was written on the last leaf of one belonging to him, in these terms:—“I have regularly and attentively read these Holy Scriptures, and am of opinion that this volume, independently of its Divine origin, contains more sublimity and beauty, more pure morality, more important history and finer strains of poetry and eloquence, than can be collected from all other books, in whatever age or language they may have been composed.”

§Rousseau§ says, “This Divine Book, the only one which is indispensable to the Christian, need only be read with reflection to inspire love for its author, and the most ardent desire to obey its precepts. Never did virtue speak so sweet a language; never was the most profound wisdom expressed with so much energy and simplicity. No one can arise from its perusal without feeling himself better than he was before.”

§Wilberforce§, in his dying hour, said to a friend, “Read the Bible. Let no religious book take its place. Through all my perplexities and distresses, I never read any other book, and I never knew the want of any other. It has been my hourly study; and all my knowledge of the doctrines, and all my acquaintance with the experience and realities, of religion, have been derived from the Bible only. I think religious people do not read the Bible enough. Books about religion may be useful enough, but they will not do instead of the simple truth of the Bible.”

§Lord Bolingbroke§ declared that “the Gospel is, in all cases, one continued lesson of the strictest morality, of justice, of benevolence, and of universal charity.”

Similar testimony has been accorded in the strongest terms by §Locke§, §Newton§, §Boyle§, §Selden§, §Salmasius§, §Sir Walter Scott§, and numberless others.

§Daniel Webster§, having been commended for his eloquence on a memorable occasion, replied, “If any thing I have ever said or written deserves the feeblest encomiums of my fellow-countrymen, I have no hesitation in declaring that for their partiality I am indebted, solely indebted, to the daily and attentive perusal of the Holy Scriptures, the source of all true poetry and eloquence, as well as of all good and all comfort.”

§John Quincy Adams§, in a letter to his son in 1811, says, “I have for many years made it a practice to read through the Bible once every year. My custom is to read four or five chapters every morning, immediately after rising from my bed. It employs about an hour of my time, and seems to me the most suitable manner of beginning the day. In whatsoever light we regard the Bible, whether with reference to revelation, to history, or to morality, it is an invaluable and inexhaustible mine of knowledge and virtue.”

§Addison§ says, in relation to the poetry of the Bible, “After perusing the Book of Psalms, let a judge of the beauties of poetry read a literal translation of Horace or Pindar, and he will find in these two last such an absurdity and confusion of style, with such a comparative poverty of imagination, as will make him sensible of the vast superiority of Scripture style.”

§Lord Byron§, in a letter to Mrs. Sheppard, said, in reference to the truth of Christianity, “Indisputably, the firm believers in the Gospel have a great advantage over all others, for this simple reason:—that, if true, they will have their reward hereafter; and if there be no hereafter, they can be but with the infidel in his eternal sleep, having had the assistance of an exalted hope through life, without subsequent disappointment, since (at the worst, for them) out of nothing nothing can arise,—not even sorrow.” The following lines of Walter Scott are said to have been copied in his Bible:—

Within this awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries. Oh! happiest they of human race, To whom our God has given grace To hear, to read, to fear, to pray, To lift the latch, and force the way; But better had they ne’er been born, Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.—Monastery.

ENGLISH BIBLE TRANSLATIONS.

Our version of the Bible is to be loved and prized for this, as for a thousand other things,—that it has preserved a purity of meaning to many terms of natural objects. Without this holdfast, our vitiated imaginations would refine away language to mere abstractions. Hence the French have lost their poetical language; and Blanco White says the same thing has happened to the Spanish.—§Coleridge.§

Wickliffe’s Bible.—This was the first translation made into the language. It was translated by John Wickliffe, about the year 1384, but never printed, though there are manuscript copies of it in several public libraries.

Tyndale’s Bible.—The translation of William Tyndale, assisted by Miles Coverdale, was the first printed Bible in the English language. The New Testament was published in 1526. It was revised and republished in 1530. In 1532, Tyndale and his associates finished the whole Bible, except the Apocrypha, and printed it abroad.

Matthews’ Bible.—While Tyndale was preparing a second edition of the Bible, he was taken up and burned for heresy in Flanders. On his death, Coverdale and John Rogers revised it, and added a translation of the Apocrypha. It was dedicated to Henry VIII., in 1537, and was printed at Hamburg, under the borrowed name of Thomas Matthews, whence it was called Matthews’ Bible.

Cranmer’s Bible.—This was the first Bible printed by authority in England, and publicly set up in the churches. It was Tyndale’s version, revised by Coverdale, and examined by Cranmer, who added a preface to it, whence it was called Cranmer’s Bible. It was printed by Grafton, in large folio, in 1539. After being adopted, suppressed, and restored under successive reigns, a new edition was brought out in 1562.

The Geneva Bible.—In 1557, the whole Bible in quarto was printed at Geneva by Rowland Harte, some of the English refugees continuing in that city solely for that purpose. The translators were Bishop Coverdale, Anthony Gilby, William Whittingham, Christopher Woodman, Thomas Sampson, and Thomas Cole—to whom some add John Knox, John Bodleigh, and John Pullain, all zealous Calvinists, both in doctrine and discipline. But the chief and most learned of them were the first three. Of this translation there were about thirty editions, mostly printed by the King’s and Queen’s printers, from 1560 to 1616. In this version, the first distinction in verses was made. The following is a copy of the title-page of the edition of 1559, omitting two quotations from the Scriptures:—

THE BIBLE. THAT IS. THE HO- LY SCRIPTURES CONTEI- NED IN THE OLDE AND NEWE TESTAMENT. Translated According to the Ebrew and Greeke, and conferred with the best translations in divers languages. With most profitable Annotations vpon all the hard places, and other things of Great importance. IMPRINTED AT LONDON by the Deputies of Christopher Barker, Printer to the Queenes most excellent Maiestie, 1599. Cum priuilegio.

To some editions of the Geneva Bible, one of which is this of 1599, is subjoined Beza’s translation of the new text into English by L. Tomson, who was under-secretary to Sir Francis Walsingham. But, though he pretends to translate from Beza, he has seldom varied a word from the Geneva translation. Dr. Geddes gives honorable testimony to the last Geneva version, as he does not hesitate to declare that he thinks it in general better than that of the King James translators. Our readers will hardly agree with him when they read some extracts from it appended in a succeeding paragraph.

The typographical appearance of this work is quite a curiosity. Like most of the old books, it is well printed, and is ornamented with the pen. The head and foot rules, as well as the division of the columns, are made with the pen in red ink. The title-page is quite profusely ornamented with red lines.

This translation of the Bible is known as “the breeches Bible,” from the following rendering of Genesis iii. 7:—

Then the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig tree leaves together, and made themselves breeches.

A peculiarity in this Bible is the substitution of the letter v for u, and, vice versa, u for v. The name of Eve is printed Heuah (Hevah); Cain is printed Kain; Abel, Habel; Enoch, Henock; Isaac, Ishak; Hebrew, Ebrew, &c. The translations of many of the passages differ materially from our received version. The following will serve as illustrations:—

Thus he cast out man; and at the East side of the garden of Eden he set the cherubims, and the blade of a sword shaken, to keep the way of the tree of life.—Genesis iii. 24.

Then it repented the Lorde that he had made man in the earth, and he was sorie in his heart.—Gen. vi. 6.

Make thee an Arkee of pine trees; thou shalt make cabins in the Arkee, and shalt pitch it within and without with pitch. Thou shalt make it with the lower, second and third roome.—Gen. vi. 14, 10.

And he said, Hagar, Sarais maide, whence comest thou? & whether wilt thou go? and she said, I flee from my dame Sarai.—Gen. xvi. 8.

When Abram was ninetie years old & nine, the Lord appeared to Abram, and said unto him, I am God all sufficient, walke before me, and be thou upright.—Gen. xvii. 1.

Then Abraham rose vp from the sight of his corps, and talked with the Hittites, saying, I am a stranger and a forreiner among you, &c.—Gen. xxiii. 3, 4.

Then Abraham yielded the spirit and died in a good age, an olde man, and of great yeeres, and was gathered to his people.—Gen. xxv. 8.

As many were astonied at thee (his visage was so deformed of men, and his forme of the sonnes of men) so shall hee spunckle many nations.—Isa. lii. 14. This chapter has but fourteen verses in it.

Can the blacke Moore change his skinne? or the leopard his spots?—Jer. xiii. 23.

And after those days we trussed up our fardles, and went up to Jerusalem.—Acts xxi. 15.

But Jesus sayde vnto her, Let the children first bee fed; for it is not good to take the childrens bread, and to cast it unto whelps. Then shee answered, and said unto him, Truthe, Lorde; yet in deede the whelps eate under the table of the childrens crummes.—Mark vii. 27, 28.

And she broght forth her fyrst begotten sonne, and wrapped him in swadlyng clothes, and layd him in a cretche, bccause there was no rowme for them with in the ynne.—Luke ii. 7.

The Bishops’ Bible.—Archbishop Parker engaged bishops and other learned men to bring out a new translation. They did so in 1568, in large folio. It made what was afterwards called the great English Bible, and commonly the Bishops’ Bible. In 1589 it was published in octavo, in small, but fine black letter. In it the chapters were divided into verses, but without any breaks for them.

Matthew Parker’s Bible.—The Bishops’ Bible underwent some corrections, and was printed in large folio in 1572, and called Matthew Parker’s Bible. The version was used in the churches for forty years.

The Douay Bible.—The New Testament was brought out by the Roman Catholics in 1582, and called the Rhemish New Testament. It was condemned by the Queen of England, and copies were seized by her authority and destroyed. In 1609 and 1610, the Old Testament was added, and the whole published at Douay, hence called the Douay Bible.

King James’s Bible.—The version now in use was brought out by King James’s authority in 1611. Fifty-four learned men were employed to accomplish the work of revising it. From death or other cause, seven of them failed to enter upon it. The remaining forty-seven were ranged under six divisions, and had different portions of the Bible assigned to those divisions. They commenced their task in 1607. After some three or four years of diligent labor, the whole was completed. This version was generally adopted, and the other translations fell into disuse. It has continued in use until the present time.

DISSECTION OF THE OLD AND NEW TESTAMENTS.

Books in the Old Testament 39│In the New 27│Total 66 Chapters 929│In the New 260│Total 1,189 Verses 23,214│In the New 7,959│Total 31,173 Words 592,439│In the New 181,253│Total 773,692 Letters 2,728,100│In the New 838,380│Total 3,566,480

APOCRYPHA.

Chapters 183│Verses 6,081│Words 152,185

The middle chapter and the least in the Bible is Psalm cxvii.

The middle verse is the eighth of Psalm cxviii.

The middle line is in 2d Chronicles, 4th chapter, 16th verse.

The word and occurs in the Old Testament 35,543 times.

The same in the New Testament, 10,684.

The word Jehovah occurs 6,855 times.

OLD TESTAMENT.

The middle book is Proverbs.

The middle chapter is Job xxix.

The middle verse is in 2d Chronicles, 20th chapter, between the 17th and 18th verses.

The least verse is in 1st Chronicles, 1st chapter, and 25th verse.

NEW TESTAMENT.

The middle book is the 2d epistle to Thessalonians.

The middle chapter is between the 13th and 14th of Romans.

The middle verse is the 17th chapter of Acts, and 17th verse.

The least verse is the 11th chapter of John, verse 35.

* * * * *

The 21st verse of the 7th chapter of Ezra has all the letters of the alphabet in it.

The 19th chapter of the 2d book of Kings, and the 37th of Isaiah, are alike.

* * * * *

N.B.—Three years are said to have been spent in this curious but idle calculation.

DISTINCTIONS IN THE GOSPELS.

1. In regard to their external features and characteristics:

The point of view of the first gospel is mainly Israelitic; of the second, Gentile; of the third, universal; of the fourth, Christian.

The general aspect, and so to speak, physiognomy of the first, mainly, is oriental; of the second, Roman; of the third, Greek; of the fourth, spiritual.

The style of the first is stately and rhythmical; of the second, terse and precise; of the third, calm and copious; of the fourth, artless and colloquial.

The striking characteristic of the first is symmetry; of the second compression; of the third, order; of the fourth, system.

The thought and language of the first are both Hebraistic; of the third, both Hellenistic; while in the second, thought is often accidental though the language is Hebraistic; and in the fourth, the language is Hellenistic, but the thought Hebraistic.

2. In respect to their subject-matter and contents:

In the first gospel, narrative; in the second, memoirs; in the third, history; in the fourth, dramatic portraiture.

In the first we often have the record of events in their accomplishment; in the second, events in detail; in the third, events in their connection; in the fourth, events in relation to the teaching springing from them.

Thus in the first we often meet with the notice of impressions; in the second, of facts; in the third, of motives; in the fourth, of words spoken.

And, lastly, the record of the first is mainly collective, and often antithetical; of the second, graphic and circumstantial; of the third, didactic and reflective; of the fourth, selective and supplemental.

3. In respect to their portraiture of our Lord:

The first presents him to us mainly as the Messiah; the second, mainly as the God-man; the third, as the Redeemer; the fourth, as the only begotten Son of God.

BOOKS MENTIONED IN THE BIBLE NOW LOST OR UNKNOWN.

1. The Prophecy of Enoch. See Epistle to Jude, 14.

2. The Book of the Wars of the Lord. See Numb. xxi. 14.

3. The Prophetical Gospel of Eve, which relates to the Amours of the Sons of God with the Daughters of Men. See Origen cont. Celsum, Tertul. &c.

4. The Book of Jasher. See Joshua x. 13; and 2 Samuel i. 18.

5. The Book of Iddo the Seer. See 2 Chronicles ix. 29, and xii. 15.

6. The Book of Nathan the Prophet. See as above.

7. The Prophecies of Ahijah, the Shilonite. See as above.

8. The acts of Rehoboam, in Book of Shemaiah. See 2 Chronicles xii. 15.

9. The Book of Jehu the Son of Hanani. See 2 Chronicles xx. 34.

10. The Five Books of Solomon, treating on the nature of trees, beasts, fowl, serpents, and fishes. See 1 Kings iv. 33.

11. The 151st Psalm.

THE WORD “SELAH.”

The translators of the Bible have left the Hebrew word Selah, which occurs so often in the Psalms, as they found it, and of course the English reader often asks his minister, or some learned friend, what it means. And the minister or learned friend has most often been obliged to confess ignorance, because it is a matter in regard to which the most learned have by no means been of one mind. The Targums, and most of the Jewish commentators, give to the word the meaning of eternally forever. Rabbi Kimchi regards it as a sign to elevate the voice. The authors of the Septuagint translation appear to have considered it a musical or rhythmical note. Herder inclines to the opinion that it indicates a change of tone, which is expressed either by increase of force, or by a transition into another time and mode. Matheson thinks it is a musical note, equivalent, perhaps, to the word repeat. According to Luther and others, it means silence. Gesenius explains it to mean, “Let the instruments play and the singers stop.” Wocher regards it as equivalent to sursum corda,—up, my soul! Sommer, after examining all the seventy-four passages in which the word occurs, recognizes in every case “an actual appeal or summons to Jehovah.” They are calls for aid, and prayers to be heard, expressed either with entire directness, or if not in the imperative, Hear, Jehovah! or Awake, Jehovah, and the like, still, earnest addresses to God that he would remember and hear, &c. The word itself he considers indicative of a blast of trumpets by the priests, Selah being an abridged expression for Higgaion Selah,—Higgaion indicating the sound of the stringed instruments, and Selah a vigorous blast of trumpets.

HEXAMETERS IN THE BIBLE.

In the Psalms.

Gōd cāme | ūp wĭth ă | shōut: ōur | Lōrd wĭth thĕ | sōund ŏf ă | trūmpēt.‖ Thēre ĭs ă | rīvĕr thĕ | flōwĭng whĕre- | ōf shāll | glāddĕn thĕ | cītȳ.‖ Hăllĕ- | lūjăh thĕ | cīty̆ ŏf | Gōd! Jē- | hōvăh hăth | blēst hēr.‖

In the New Testament.

Art thŏu hĕ | thāt shōuld | cōme, ōr | dō wē | loōk fŏr ă- | nōthēr?‖ Hūsbānds, | lōve yoūr | wīves, ānd | bē nōt | bīttĕr ă- | gāinst thēm.‖ Blēss’d ăre thĕ | pōor īn | spīrĭt, fŏr | thēirs ĭs thĕ | kĭngdŏm ŏf | hēavēn.‖

Mr. Coleridge, whose enthusiastic and reverential admiration of the rhetorical beauty and poetic grandeur with which the Bible abounds,—all the more beautiful and the more sublime because casual and unsought by the sacred writers,—took great delight in pointing out the hexametrical rhythm of numerous passages, particularly in the book of Isaiah:—

Hear, O heavens, and give ear, | O earth: for the Lord hath spoken. I have nourished and brought up children, | and they have rebelled against me. The ox knoweth his owner, | and the ass his master’s crib: But Israel doth not know, | my people doth not consider.

Winer points out the following hexameters in the original Greek version of the New Testament:—

Κρῆτες ἀ | εὶ ψεῦ | σται, κακἀ | θηρία | γαστέρες | ἀργαί.—Titus i. 12.

Πᾶσα δό | σις ἀγα | θὴ καὶ | πᾶν δώ | ρημα τέ | λειον,—James i. 17.

Καὶ τροχι | ὰς ὀρ | θὰς ποι | ήσατε | τοῖς ποσὶν | ὑμῶν,—Heb. xii 13.

PARALLELISM OF THE HEBREW POETRY.

The prominent characteristic of the Hebrew poetry is what Bishop Lowth entitles Parallelism, that is, a certain equality, resemblance, or relationship, between the members of each period; so that in two lines, or members of the same period, things shall answer to things, and words to words, as if fitted to each other by a kind of rule or measure. The Psalms, Proverbs, Solomon’s Song, Job, and all the Prophets, except Daniel and Jonah, abound with instances.

It is in a great measure owing to this form of composition that our admirable authorized version, though executed in prose, retains so much of a poetical cast; for, being strictly word for word after the original, the form and order of the original sentences are preserved; which, by this artificial structure, this regular alternation and correspondence of parts, makes the ear sensible of a departure from the common style and tone of prose.

The different kinds of parallels are illustrated in the following examples:—

Parallels Antithetic.—Prov. x. 1, 7.

A wise son maketh a glad father; But a foolish son is the heaviness of his mother. The memory of the just is blessed; But the name of the wicked shall rot.

Parallels Synthetic.—Prov. vi. 16–19.

These six things doth the Lord hate; Yea, seven are an abomination unto him: A proud look, a lying tongue, And hands that shed innocent blood, A heart that deviseth wicked imaginations, Feet that be swift in running to mischief, A false witness that speaketh lies, And he that soweth discord among brethren.

Constructive.—Psalm xix. 7–9.

The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul; The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple; The statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart; The commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes; The fear of the Lord is clean, enduring forever; The judgments of the Lord are true, and righteous altogether.

Parallels Synonymous.—Psalm xx. 1–4.

The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble; The name of the God of Jacob defend thee; Send thee help from the sanctuary, And strengthen thee out of Zion; Remember all thine offerings, And accept thy burnt sacrifice; Grant thee according to thine own heart, And fulfil all thy counsel.

Gradational.—Psalm i. 1.

Blessed is the man That walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, Nor standeth in the way of sinners, Nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.

Parallels Introverted.—Prov. xxiii. 15, 16.

My son, if thy heart be wise, My heart shall rejoice, even mine; Yea, my reins shall rejoice When thy lips speak right things.

It may be objected to Hebrew poetry, says Gilfillan, that it has no regular rhythm except a rude parallelism. What then? Must it be, therefore, altogether destitute of music? Has not the rain a rhythm of its own, as it patters on the pane, or sinks on the bosom of its kindred pool? Has not the wind a harmony, as it bows the groaning woods, or howls over the mansions of the dead? Have not the waves of ocean their wild bass? Has not the thunder its own deep and dreadful organ-pipe? Do they speak in rhyme? Do they murmur in blank verse? Who taught them to begin in Iambics, or to close in Alexandrines? And shall not God’s own speech have a peculiar note, no more barbarous than is the voice of the old woods or the older cataracts?

Besides, to call parallelism a coarse or uncouth rhythm, betrays an ignorance of its nature. Without entering at large on the subject of Hebrew versification, we may ask any one who has paid even a slight attention to the subject, if the effect of parallels such as the foregoing examples, perpetually intermingled as they are, be not to enliven the composition, often to give distinctness and precision to the train of thought, to impress the sentiments upon the memory, and to give out a harmony which, if inferior to rhyme in the compression produced by the difficulty (surmounted) of uniting varied sense with recurring sound, and in the pleasure of surprise; and to blank verse, in freedom, in the effects produced by the variety of pause, and in the force of long and linked passages, as well as of insulated lines, is less slavish than the one, and less arbitrary than the other? Unlike rhyme, its point is more that of thought than of language; unlike blank verse, it never can, however managed, degenerate into heavy prose. Such is parallelism, which generally forms the differential quality of the poetry of Scripture, although there are many passages in it destitute of this aid, and which yet, in the spirit they breathe, and the metaphors by which they are garnished, are genuine and high poetry. And there can be little question that in the parallelism of the Hebrew tongue we can trace many of the peculiarities of modern writing, and in it find the fountain of the rhythm, the pomp and antithesis, which lend often such grace, and always such energy, to the style of Johnson, of Junius, of Burke, of Hall, of Chalmers,—indeed, of most writers who rise to the grand swells of prose-poetry.

SIMILARITY OF SOUND.

There is a remarkable similarity of sound in a passage in the Second Book of Kings, ch. iii. v. 4, to the metrical rhythm of Campbell’s Battle of the Baltic:—

A hundred thousand lambs, And a hundred thousand rams, With the wool.

By each gun the lighted brand, In a bold determined hand, And the Prince of all the land Led them on.

PARALLEL PASSAGES BETWEEN SHAKSPEARE AND THE BIBLE.

An English minister, Rev. T. R. Eaton, has written a work entitled Shakspeare and the Bible, for the purpose of showing how much Shakspeare was indebted to the Bible for many of his illustrations, rhythms, and even modes of feeling. The author affirms that, in storing his mind, the immortal bard went first to the word, and then to the works, of God. In shaping the truths derived from these sources, he obeyed the instinct implanted by Him who had formed him Shakspeare. Hence his power of inspiring us with sublime affection for that which is properly good, and of chilling us with horror by his fearful delineations of evil. Shakspeare perpetually reminds us of the Bible, not by direct quotations, indirect allusion, borrowed idioms, or palpable imitation of phrase or style, but by an elevation of thought and simplicity of diction which are not to be found elsewhere. A passage, for instance, rises in our thoughts, unaccompanied by a clear recollection of its origin. Our first impression is that it must belong either to the Bible or Shakspeare. No other author excites the same feeling in an equal degree. In Shakspeare’s plays religion is a vital and active principle, sustaining the good, tormenting the wicked, and influencing the hearts and lives of all.

Although the writer carries his leading idea too far, by straining passages to multiply the instances in which Shakspeare has imitated scriptural sentences in thought and construction, and by leading his readers to infer that it was from the Bible Shakspeare drew not only his best thoughts, but in fact his whole power of inspiring us with affection for good and horror for evil, it is certainly true that some hundreds of Biblical allusions, however brief and simple, show Shakspeare’s conversance with the Bible, his fondness for it, and the almost unconscious recurrence of it in his mind. The following examples of his parallelisms will be found interesting:—

Othello.—Rude am I in my speech.—i. 3.

But though I be rude in speech.—2 Cor. xi. 6.

Witches.—Show his eyes and grieve his heart.—Macbeth, iv. 1.

Consume thine eyes and grieve thine heart.—1 Sam. ii. 33.

Macbeth.—Lighted fools the way to dusty death.—v. 5.

Thou hast brought me into the dust of death.—Ps. xxii. 15.

Dusty death alludes to the sentence pronounced against Adam:—

Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.—Gen. iii. 19.

Macbeth.—Life’s but a walking shadow.—v. 5.

Man walketh in a vain show.—Ps. xxxix. 6.

Prince of Morocco.—Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadow’d livery of the burnished sun.—Merch. Ven. ii. 1.

Look not upon me, because I am black, because the sun hath looked upon me.—Sol. Song, i. 6.

Othello.—I took by the throat, the circumcised dog, and smote him.—v. 2.

I smote him, I caught him by his beard and smote him, and slew him.—1 Sam. xvii. 35.

Macbeth.—Let this pernicious hour stand aye accursed in the calendar.—iv. 1.

Opened Job his mouth and cursed his day; let it not be joined unto the days of the year, let it not come into the number of the months.—Job iii. 1, 6.

Hamlet.—What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculties! In form and moving, how express and admirable! In action, how like an angel! In apprehension, how like a God! The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals!—ii. 2.

What is man, that thou art mindful of him? For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honor. Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands.—Ps. viii. 4, 5, 6.

Macbeth.—We will die with harness on our back.—v. 5.

Nicanor lay dead in his harness.—2 Maccabees xv. 28.

Banquo.—Woe to the land that’s governed by a child.

Woe to thee, O land, when thy king is a child.—Eccles. x. 16.

Banquo.—In the great hand of God I stand.—Macbeth, ii. 3.

Thy right hand hath holden me up.—Ps. xviii. 35.

Man the image of his Maker.—Henry VIII., iii. 2.—Gen. I. 27.

Blessed are the peacemakers.—2 Henry VI., ii. 1.—Matt. V. 29.

And when he falls he falls like Lucifer.—Henry VIII., iii. 2.

How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning!—Isaiah xiv. 12.

No, Bolingbroke, if ever I were traitor, My name be blotted from the book of life.—Richard II., i. 3.

Whose names were not written in the book of life.—Rev. xx., xxi.

Swear by thy gracious self.—Romeo and Juliet, ii. 2.

He could swear by no greater, he sware by himself.—Heb. vi. 13.

My stay, my guide, and lantern to my feet.—2 Henry VI., ii. 3.

Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.—Ps. cxix. 105.

Who can call him his friend that dips in the same dish?—Timon of Athens, iii. 2.

He that dippeth his hand with me in the dish, the same shall betray me.—Matt. xxvi. 23.

You shall see him a palm in Athens again, and flourish with the highest.—Timon of Athens, v. 1.

The righteous shall flourish like the palm-tree.—Ps. xcii. 12.

It is written, they appear to men like angels of light.—Com. of Errors, iv. 3

Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light.—2 Cor. xi. 14.

And lose my way Among the thorns and dangers of this world.—King John, iv. 3.

Thorns and snares are in the way of the froward.—Prov. xxii. 5.

When we first put this dangerous stone a rolling, ’Twould fall upon ourselves.—Henry VIII., v. 2.

He that rolleth a stone, it will return upon him.—Prov. xxvi. 27.

The speech of Ulysses, in “Troilus and Cressida,” i. 3, is almost a paraphrase of St. Luke xxi. 25, 26:—

But when the planets In evil mixture to disorder wander, What plagues, and what portents! What mutiny! What raging of the sea! Shaking of earth! Commotion in the winds! frights, changes, horrors, Divert and crack, rend and deracinate The unity and married calm of states Quite from their fixture.

And there shall be signs in the sun, and in the moon, and in the stars; and upon the earth distress of nations, with perplexity; the sea and the waves roaring; men’s hearts failing them for fear, and for looking after those things which are coming on the earth; for the powers of heaven shall be shaken.

Hermia and Lear both use an expression derived from the same source:—

Hermia.—An adder did it; for with doubler tongue Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.—Mid. N. Dream, iii. 2.

Lear.—Struck me with her tongue, Most serpent-like, upon the very heart.—ii. 4.

They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent; adders’ poison is under their lips.—Ps. cxl. 3.

Lear.—All the stored vengeances of heaven fall on her ingrateful top.—ii. 4.

As for the head of those that compass me about, let the mischief of their own lips cover them.—Ps. cxl. 9.

Fool to King Lear.—We’ll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there’s no laboring in the winter.—ii. 4.

The ants are a people not strong, yet they prepare their meat in the summer.—Prov. xxx. 25. See also Prov. vi. 6.

WHO IS THE TRUE GENTLEMAN?

The answer to this question will afford one of numberless instances that can be adduced to show the superiority of inspired composition. Compare Bishop Doane’s admired definition with that of the Psalmist:—

A gentleman is but a gentle man—no more, no less; a diamond polished that was a diamond in the rough: a gentleman is gentle; a gentleman is modest; a gentleman is courteous; a gentleman is generous; a gentleman is slow to take offence, as being one that never gives it; a gentleman is slow to surmise evil, as being one that never thinks it; a gentleman goes armed only in consciousness of right; a gentleman subjects his appetites; a gentleman refines his tastes; a gentleman subdues his feelings; a gentleman controls his speech; and finally, a gentleman deems every other better than himself.

In the paraphrase of Psalm xv. it is thus answered:—

’Tis he whose every thought and deed By rules of virtue moves; Whose generous tongue disdains to speak The thing his heart disproves. Who never did a slander forge, His neighbor’s fame to wound, Nor hearken to a false report, By malice whispered round. Who vice, in all its pomp and power, Can treat with just neglect, And piety, though clothed in rags, Religiously respect. Who to his plighted vows and trust Has ever firmly stood; And though he promise to his loss, He makes his promise good. Whose soul in usury disdains His treasure to employ; Whom no rewards can ever bribe The guiltless to destroy.

MISQUOTATIONS FROM SCRIPTURE.

“God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.”[7] From Sterno’s Sentimental Journey to Italy. Compare Isaiah xxvii. 8.

Footnote 7:

In a collection of proverbs published in 1594, we find, “Dieu mesure le vent à la brebis tondue,” and Herbert has in his Jacula Prudentum, “To a close shorn sheep God gives wind by measure.”

“In the midst of life we are in death.” From the Burial Service; and this, originally, from a hymn of Luther.

“Bread and wine which the Lord hath commanded to be received.” From the English Catechism.

“Not to be wise above what is written.” Not in Scripture.

“That the Spirit would go from heart to heart as oil from vessel to vessel.” Not in Scripture.

“The merciful man is merciful to his beast.” The scriptural form is, “A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast.”—Prov. xii. 10.

“A nation shall be born in a day.” In Isaiah it reads, “Shall a nation be born at once?”—lxvi. 8.

“As iron sharpeneth iron, so doth a man the countenance of his friend.” “Iron sharpeneth iron; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend.” Prov. xxvii. 17.

“That he who runs may read.” “That he may run that readeth.”—Hab. ii. 2.

“Owe no man any thing but love.” “Owe no man any thing, but to love one another.”—Rom. xiii. 8.

“Prone to sin as the sparks fly upward.” “Born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward.”—Job v. 7.

“Exalted to heaven in point of privilege.” Not in the Bible.

Eve was not Adam’s helpmate, but merely a help meet for him; nor was Absalom’s long hair, of which he was so proud, the instrument of his destruction;[8] his head, and not the hair upon it, having been caught in the boughs of the tree. (2 Samuel xviii. 9.)

Footnote 8:

A London periwig-maker once had a sign upon which was painted Absalom suspended from the branches of the oak by his hair, and underneath the following couplet:—

If Absalom hadn’t worn his own hair, He’d ne’er been found a hanging there.

“Money is the root of evil.” Paul said, I. Timothy, vi. 10, “The love of money is the root of all evil.”

“In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread,” Gen. iii. 19. Commonly quoted “brow.”

“Cleanliness akin to godliness.” Not in the Bible.

Our Lord’s hearing the doctors in the Temple, and asking them questions, is frequently called his disputing with the doctors.

A SCRIPTURAL BULL.

In the book of Isaiah, chapter xxxvii. verse 36, is the following confusion of ideas:—

Then the angel of the Lord went forth, and smote in the camp of the Assyrians a hundred and fourscore and five thousand: and when they arose early in the morning, behold, they were all dead corpses.

WIT AND HUMOR IN THE BIBLE.

“Shocking!” many a good old saint will cry, at the very thought of it. “The Bible a jest-book! What godless folly shall we have up next?” No, the Bible is not a jest-book. But there is wit in it of the first quality; and a good reason why it should be there. Take a few specimens.

Job, in his thirtieth chapter, is telling how he scorned the low-lived fellows, who pretend to look down on him in his adversities. They are fools. They belong to the long-eared fraternity. Anybody, with less wit, might come out bluntly and call them asses. But Job puts it more deftly (xxx. 7): “Among the bushes they brayed; under the nettles they were gathered together.” If that is not wit, there is no such thing as wit. And yet the commentators don’t see it, or won’t see it. They are perfectly wooden when they come to any such gleam of humor.

Take another instance—Elijah’s ridicule of the prophets of Baal. They are clamoring to their god, to help them out of a very awkward predicament. And, while they are at it, the prophet shows them up in a way that must have made the people roar with laughter. The stiff, antiquated style of our English Bible tames down his sallies. Take them in modern phrase. These quack prophets have worked themselves into a perfect desperation, and are capering about on the altar as if they had the St. Vitus’s dance. The scene (I. Kings xviii. 26, 27) wakes up all Elijah’s sense of the ridiculous. “Shout louder! He is a god, you know. Make him hear! Perhaps he is chatting with somebody, or he is off on a hunt, or gone traveling. Or maybe he is taking a nap. Shout away! Wake him up!” Imagine the priests going through their antics on the altar, while Elijah bombards them in this style, at his leisure.

Paul shows a dry humor more than once, as in II. Cor. xii. 13: “Why haven’t you fared as well as the other churches? Ah! there is one grievance—that you haven’t had me to support. Pray do not lay it up against me!”

These instances might be multiplied from the Old and New Testaments both. What do they show? That the Bible is, on the whole, a humorous book? Far from it. That religion is a humorous subject—that we are to throw all the wit we can into the treatment of it? No. But they show that the sense of the ludicrous is put into a man by his Maker; that it has its uses, and that we are not to be ashamed of it, or to roll up our eyes in a holy horror of it.

THE OLD AND THE NEW TESTAMENT.

The name Old Testament was applied to the books of Moses by St. Paul (II. Cor. iii. 14), inasmuch as the former covenant comprised the whole scheme of the Mosaic revelation, and the history of this is contained in them. The phrase “book of the covenant,” taken from Exod. xxiv. 7, was transferred in the course of time by metonymy to signify the writings themselves. The term New Testament has been in common use since the third century, and was employed by Eusebius in the sense in which it is now applied.

A SCRIPTURAL SUM.

Add to your faith, virtue; And to virtue, knowledge; And to knowledge, temperance: And to temperance, patience; And to patience, godliness; And to godliness, brotherly kindness; And to brotherly kindness, charity.

The Answer:—For if these things be in you and abound, they make you that ye shall neither be barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.—2 Peter i. 5, 8.

BIBLIOMANCY.

Bibliomancy, or divination by the Bible, had become so common in the fifth century, that several councils were obliged expressly to forbid it, as injurious to religion, and savoring of idolatry.

This kind of divination was named Sortes Sanctorum, or Sortes Sacræ, Lots of the Saints, or Sacred Lots, and consisted in suddenly opening, or dipping into, the Bible, and regarding the passage that first presented itself to the eye as predicting the future lot of the inquirer. The Sortes Sanctorum had succeeded the Sortes Homericæ and Sortes Virgilianæ of the Pagans; among whom it was customary to take the work of some famous poet, as Homer or Virgil, and write out different verses on separate scrolls, and afterwards draw one of them, or else, opening the book suddenly, consider the first verse that presented itself as a prognostication of future events. Even the vagrant fortune-tellers, like some of the gypsies of our own times, adopted this method of imposing upon the credulity of the ignorant. The nations of the East retain the practice to the present day. The famous usurper, Nadir Shah, twice decided upon besieging cities, by opening at random upon verses of the celebrated poet Hafiz.

This abuse, which was first introduced into the church about the third century, by the superstition of the people, afterwards gained ground through the ignorance of some of the clergy, who permitted prayers to be read in the churches for this very purpose. It was therefore found necessary to ordain in the Council of Vannes, held §A.D.§ 465, “That whoever of the clergy or laity should be detected in the practice of this art should be cast out of the communion of the church.” In 506, the Council of Agde renewed the decree; and in 578, the Council of Auxerre, amongst other kinds of divination, forbade the Lots of the Saints, as they were called, adding, “Let all things be done in the name of the Lord;” but these ordinances did not effectually suppress them, for we find them again noticed and condemned in a capitulary or edict of Charlemagne, in 793. Indeed, all endeavors to banish them from the Christian church appear to have been in vain for ages.

The Name of God.

Tell them I AM, §Jehovah§ said To Moses, while earth heard in dread; And, smitten to the heart, At once, above, beneath, around, All nature, without voice or sound, Replied, O §Lord§! THOU ART! Christopher Smart, an English Lunatic.

It is singular that the name of God should be spelled with four letters in almost every known language. It is in Latin, Deus; Greek, Zeus; Hebrew, Adon; Syrian, Adad; Arabian, Alla; Persian, Syra; Tartarian, Idga; Egyptian, Aumn, or Zeut; East Indian, Esgi, or Zenl; Japanese, Zain; Turkish, Addi; Scandinavian, Odin; Wallachian, Zenc; Croatian, Doga; Dalmatian, Rogt; Tyrrhenian, Eher; Etrurian, Chur; Margarian, Oese; Swedish, Codd; Irish, Dich; German, Gott; French, Dieu; Spanish, Dios; Peruvian, Lian.

The name God in the Anglo-Saxon language means good, and this signification affords singular testimony of the Anglo-Saxon conception of the essence of the Divine Being. He is goodness itself, and the Author of all goodness. Yet the idea of denoting the Deity by a term equivalent to abstract and absolute perfection, striking as it may appear, is perhaps less remarkable than the fact that the word Man, used to designate a human being, formerly signified wickedness; showing how well aware were its originators that our fallen nature had become identified with sin.

JEHOVAH.

The word Elohim, as an appellation of Deity, appears to have been in use before the Hebrews had attained a national existence. That Jehovah is specifically the God of the Hebrews is clear, from the fact that the heathen deities never receive this name; they are always spoken of as Elohim. Both the pronunciation and the etymological derivation of the word Jehovah are matters of critical controversy. The Jews of later periods from religious awe abstained from pronouncing it, and whenever it occurred in reading, substituted the word Adonai (my Lord); and it is now generally believed that the sublinear vowel signs attached to the Hebrew tetragrammaton Jhvh belong to the substituted word. Many believe Jahveh to be the original pronunciation. The Hebrew root of the word is believed to be the verb havah or hayah, to be; hence its meaning throughout the Scriptures, “the Being,” or “the Everlasting.”

GOD IN SHAKSPEARE.

Michelet (Jeanne d’Arc,) speaking of English literature, says that it is “Sceptique, judaique, satanique.” In a note he says, “I do not recollect to have seen the word §God§ in Shakspeare. If it is there at all, it is there very rarely, by chance, and without a shadow of religious sentiment.” Mrs. Cowden Clarke, by means of her admirable Concordance to Shakspeare, enables us to weigh the truth of this eminent French writer’s remark. The word §God§ occurs in Shakspeare upwards of one thousand times, and the word heaven, which is so frequently substituted for the word §God§—more especially in the historical plays—occurs about eight hundred times. In the Holy Scriptures, according to Cruden, it occurs about eight hundred times. It is true that the word often occurs in Shakspeare without a reverential sentiment; but M. Michelet says it never occurs with a religious feeling (un sentiment religieux.) This statement is almost as erroneous as that regarding the absence of the word. It would be easy for an English scholar to produce from Shakspeare more passages indicative of deep religious feeling than are to be found in any French writer whatever.

THE PARSEE, JEW, AND CHRISTIAN.

A Jew entered a Parsee temple, and beheld the sacred fire. “What!” said he to the priest, “do you worship the fire?”

“Not the fire,” answered the priest: “it is to us an emblem of the sun, and of his genial heat.”

“Do you then worship the sun as your god?” asked the Jew. “Know ye not that this luminary also is but a work of that Almighty Creator?”

“We know it,” replied the priest: “but the uncultivated man requires a sensible sign, in order to form a conception of the Most High. And is not the sun the incomprehensible source of light, an image of that invisible being who blesses and preserves all things?”

“Do your people, then,” rejoined the Israelite, “distinguish the type from the original? They call the sun their god, and, descending even from this to a baser object, they kneel before an earthly flame! Ye amuse the outward but blind the inward eye; and while ye hold to them the earthly, ye draw from them the heavenly light! ‘Thou shalt not make unto thyself any image or any likeness.’”

“How do you name the Supreme Being?” asked the Parsee.

“We call him Jehovah Adonai, that is, the Lord who is, who was, and who will be,” answered the Jew.

“Your appellation is grand and sublime,” said the Parsee; “but it is awful too.”

A Christian then drew nigh, and said,—

“We call him §Father§.”

The Pagan and the Jew looked at each other, and said,—

“Here is at once an image and a reality: it is a word of the heart.”

Therefore they all raised their eyes to heaven, and said, with reverence and love, “§Our Father!§” and they took each by the hand, and all three called one another brothers!

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§De Nomine Jesu.§

=I= n rebus tantis trina conjunctio mund =I= =E= rigit humanum sensum, laudare venust =E= =S= ola salus nobis, et mundi summa, potesta =S= =V= enit peccati nodum dissolvere fruct =V= =S= umma salus cunctas nituit per secula terra =S=.[9]

Footnote 9:

I n times momentous appeared the world’s triple conjunction, E ncouraging human hearts to shout melodious praises. S ole salvation for us, that power exalted ’bove measure, U nloosed the bonds of sin through the precious atonement. S alvation illumines all earth through ages unceasing.

The letters I. H. S. so conspicuously appended to different portions of Catholic churches, are said to have been designed by St. Bernardine of Sienna, to denote the name and mission of the Saviour. They are to be found in a circle above the principal door of the Franciscan Church of the Holy Cross, (Santa Croce,) in Florence, and are said to have been put there by the saint on the termination of the plague of 1347, after which they were commonly introduced into churches. The letters have assigned to them the following signification:—

Jesus hominum Salvator—Jesus, the Saviour of men. In hoc salus—In him is salvation.

A maker of playing-cards, which, like missels, were illuminated in those times, was one day remonstrated with by St. Bernardine, upon the sinfulness of his business. The card-maker pleaded the needs of his family. “Well, I will help you,” said the saint, and wrote the letters I. H. S., which he advised the card-maker to paint and gild. The new card “took,” and the saint himself travelled about the country as a poster of these little sacred handbills of the Church.

THE FLOWER OF JESSE.

1520.

There is a flower sprung of a tree, The root of it is called Jesse, A flower of price,— There is none such in Paradise.

Of Lily white and Rose of Ryse, Of Primrose and of Flower-de-Lyse, Of all flowers in my devyce, The flower of Jesse beareth the prize, For most of all To help our souls both great and small.

I praise the flower of good Jesse, Of all the flowers that ever shall be, Uphold the flower of good Jesse, And worship it for aye beautee; For best of all That ever was or ever be shall.

BEAUTIFUL LEGEND.

One day Rabbi Judah and his brethren, the seven pillars of Wisdom, sat in the Court of the Temple, on feast-day, disputing about §REST§. One said that it was to have attained sufficient wealth, yet without sin. The second, that it was fame and praise of all men. The third, that it was the possession of power to rule the State. The fourth, that it consisted only in a happy home. The fifth, that it must be in the old age of one who is rich, powerful, famous, surrounded by children and children’s children. The sixth said that all that were vain, unless a man keep all the ritual law of Moses. And Rabbi Judah, the venerable, the tallest of the brothers, said, “Ye have spoken wisely; but one thing more is necessary. He only can find rest, who to all things addeth this, that he keepeth the tradition of the elders.”

There sat in the Court a fair-haired boy, playing with some lilies in his lap, and, hearing the talk, he dropped them with astonishment from his hands, and looked up—that boy of twelve—and said, “Nay, nay, fathers: he only findeth rest, who loveth his brother as himself, and God with his whole heart and soul. He is greater than fame, and wealth, and power, happier than a happy home, happy without it, better than honored age; he is a law to himself, and above all tradition.” The doctors were astonished. They said, “When Christ cometh, shall He tell us greater things?” And they thanked God, for they said, “The old men are not always wise, yet God be praised, that out of the mouth of this young suckling has His praise become perfect.”

PERSIAN APOLOGUE.

In Sir William Jones’s Persian Grammar may be found the following beautiful story from §Nisami§. Mr. Alger gives a metrical translation in his Poetry of the East.

One evening Jesus arrived at the gates of a certain city, and sent his disciples forward to prepare supper, while he himself, intent on doing good, walked through the streets into the market-place.

And he saw at the corner of the market some people gathered together, looking at an object on the ground; and he drew near to see what it might be. It was a dead dog, with a halter around his neck, by which he appeared to have been dragged through the dirt; and a viler, a more abject, a more unclean thing never met the eyes of man.

And those who stood by looked on with abhorrence.

“Faugh!” said one, stopping his nose: “it pollutes the air.” “How long,” said another, “shall this foul beast offend our sight?” “Look at his torn hide,” said a third: “one could not even cut a shoe out of it.” “And his ears,” said a fourth, “all draggled and bleeding.” “No doubt,” said a fifth, “he has been hanged for thieving.”

And Jesus heard them, and looking down compassionately on the dead creature, he said, “Pearls are not equal to the whiteness of his teeth!”

Then the people turned towards him with amazement, and said among themselves, “Who is this? It must be Jesus of Nazareth, for only §HE§ could find something to pity and approve even in a dead dog.” And being ashamed, they bowed their heads before him and went each on his way.

DESCRIPTION OF THE PERSON OF JESUS CHRIST.

The following description is alleged to be derived from an ancient manuscript sent by Publius Lentulus, President of Judea, to the Senate of Rome:—

“There lives at this time in Judea, a man of singular character, whose name is Jesus Christ. The barbarians esteem him as their prophet; but his followers adore him as the immediate offspring of the immortal God. He is endowed with such unparalleled virtue as to call back the dead from their graves and to heal every kind of disease with a word or a touch. His person is tall and elegantly shaped; his aspect, amiable and reverend; his hair flows in those beauteous shades which no united colors can match, falling in graceful curls below his ears, agreeably couching on his shoulders, and parting on the crown of his head; his dress, that of the sect of Nazarites; his forehead is smooth and large; his cheeks without blemish, and of roseate hue; his nose and mouth are formed with exquisite symmetry; his beard is thick and suitable to the hair of his head, reaching a little below his chin, and parting in the middle below; his eyes are clear, bright, and serene.

“He rebukes with mildness, and invokes with the most tender and persuasive language,—his whole address, whether in word or deed, being elegantly grave, and strictly characteristic of so exalted a being. No man has seen him laugh, but the whole world beholds him weep frequently, and so persuasive are his tears that the whole multitude cannot withhold their tears from joining in sympathy with him. He is moderate, temperate, and wise: in short, whatever the phenomenon may turn out in the end, he seems at present to be a man of excellent beauty and divine perfection, every way surpassing man.”

DEATH-WARRANT OF JESUS CHRIST.

Of the many interesting relics and fragments brought to light by the persevering researches of antiquarians, none could be more interesting to the philanthropist and believer than the following,—to Christians, the most imposing judicial document ever recorded in human annals. It has been thus faithfully transcribed:—

Sentence rendered by Pontius Pilate, acting Governor of Lower Galilee, stating that Jesus of Nazareth shall suffer death on the cross.

In the year seventeen of the Emperor Tiberius Cæsar, and the 27th day of March, the city of the holy Jerusalem—Annas and Caiaphas being priests, sacrificators of the people of God—Pontius Pilate, Governor of Lower Galilee, sitting in the presidential chair of the prætory, condemns Jesus of Nazareth to die on the cross between two thieves, the great and notorious evidence of the people saying:

1. Jesus is a seducer.

2. He is seditious.

3. He is the enemy of the law.

4. He calls himself falsely the Son of God.

5. He calls himself falsely the King of Israel.

6. He entered into the temple followed by a multitude bearing palm branches in their hands.

Orders the first centurion, Quilius Cornelius, to lead him to the place of execution.

Forbids any person whomsoever, either poor or rich, to oppose the death of Jesus Christ.

The witnesses who signed the condemnation of Jesus are—

1. Daniel Robani, a Pharisee.

2. Joannus Robani.

3. Raphael Robani.

4. Capet, a citizen.

Jesus shall go out of the city of Jerusalem by the gate of Struenus.

The foregoing is engraved on a copper plate, on the reverse of which is written, “A similar plate is sent to each tribe.” It was found in an antique marble vase, while excavating in the ancient city of Aquilla, in the kingdom of Naples, in the year 1810, and was discovered by the Commissioners of Arts of the French army. At the expedition of Naples, it was enclosed in a box of ebony and preserved in the sacristy of the Carthusians. The French translation was made by the Commissioners of Arts. The original is in the Hebrew language.

DOUBLE HEXAMETER.

{ nescis } { discis; Si Christum { } nihil est si cætera { { discis } { nescis.

ANTICIPATORY USE OF THE CROSS.

Madame Calderon de la Barca, in her Life in Mexico (pub. 1843), says that the symbol of the Cross was known to the Indians before the arrival of Cortez. In the island of Cozumel, near Yucatan, there were several; and in Yucatan[10] itself there was a stone cross. And there an Indian, considered a prophet among his countrymen, had declared that a nation bearing the same as a symbol should arrive from a distant country. More extraordinary still was a temple dedicated to the Holy Cross by the Toltec nation in the city of Cholula. Near Tulansingo there is also a cross engraved on a rock with various characters. In Oajaca there was a cross which the Indians from time immemorial had been accustomed to consider as a divine symbol. By order of Bishop Cervantes it was placed in a chapel in the cathedral. Information concerning its discovery, together with a small cup, cut out of its wood, was sent to Rome to Paul V., who received it on his knees, singing the hymn Vexilla regis. etc.

Footnote 10:

See also Prescott’s Conquest of Mexico, Vol. I. Bk. II. Chap. 4; and Stephens’ Incidents of Travel in Yucatan, Vol. II. Chap. 20.

The Lord’s Prayer.

The Lord’s Prayer alone is an evidence of the truth of Christianity,—so admirably is that prayer accommodated to all our wants.—§Lord Wellington.§

THY AND US.

The two divisions of the Lord’s Prayer—the former relating to the glory of God, the latter to the wants of man—appear very evident on a slight transposition of the personal pronouns:—

Thy name be hallowed. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, &c. Us give this day our daily bread. Us forgive our debts, &c. Us lead not into temptation. Us deliver from evil.

SPIRIT OF THE LORD’S PRAYER.

The spirit of the Lord’s Prayer is beautiful. This form of petition breathes:—

A filial spirit—Father. A catholic spirit—Our Father. A reverential spirit—Hallowed be Thy name. A missionary spirit—Thy kingdom come. An obedient spirit—Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. A dependent spirit—Give us this day our daily bread. A forgiving spirit—And forgive our debts as we forgive our debtors. A cautious spirit—And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. A confidential and adoring spirit—For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.

GOTHIC VERSION.

Ulphilas, who lived between the years 310 and 388, was bishop of the Western Goths, and translated the greater part of the Scriptures into the Gothic language. The following is his rendering of the Lord’s Prayer:—

Atta unsar thu in himinam. Weihnai namo thein. Quimai thiudinassus sijaima, swaswe jah weis afletam thaim skulam unsaraim. Jah ni briggais uns in fraistubujai. Ak lausei uns af thamma ubilin, unte theina ist thiudangardi, jah maths, jah wulthus in aiwins. Amen.

METRICAL VERSIONS.

Father in heaven, hallowed be thy name; Thy kingdom come: thy will be done the same In earth and heaven. Give us daily bread; Forgive our sins as others we forgive. Into temptation let us not be led; Deliver us from evil while we live. For kingdom, power, and glory must remain For ever and for ever thine: Amen.

Here the sixty-six words of the original, according to the authorized translation of St. Matthew’s version, are reduced to fifty-nine, though the latter is fully implied in all points except two. “This day” is omitted; but, if anything, the Greek is slightly approached, for ἐπιούσιον refers rather to to-morrow than to to-day. The antithesis in “But deliver us” does not appear: if the word deliver be sacrificed, we may read, “But keep us safe.”

The subjoined metrical version of the Prayer is at least two and a half centuries old, and was written for adaptation to music in public worship:—

Our Father which in heaven art, All hallowed be thy name; Thy kingdom come, On earth thy will be done, Even as the same in heaven is. Give us, O Lord, our daily bread this day: As we forgive our debtors, So forgive our debts, we pray. Into temptation lead us not, From evil make us free: The kingdom, power, and glory thine, Both now and ever be.

The Prayer is commended for its authorship, its efficacy, its perfection, the order of its parts, its brevity, and its necessity.

The following paraphrase, which has been set to music as a duet, is of more recent origin:—

Our Heavenly Father, hear our prayer: Thy name be hallowed everywhere; Thy kingdom come; on earth, thy will, E’en as in heaven, let all fulfill; Give this day’s bread, that we may live; Forgive our sins as we forgive; Help us temptation to withstand; From evil shield us by Thy hand; Now and forever, unto Thee, The kingdom, power, and glory be. Amen.

THE PRAYER ILLUSTRATED.

Our Father.—Isaiah lxiii. 16.

1. By right of creation. Malachi ii. 10. 2. By bountiful provision. Psalm cxlv. 16. 3. By gracious adoption. Ephesians i. 5.

Who art in Heaven.—1 Kings viii. 43.

1. The throne of thy glory. Isaiah lxvi. 1. 2. The portion of thy children. 1 Peter i. 4. 3. The temple of thy angels. Isaiah vi. 1.

Hallowed be thy Name.—Psalm cxv. 1.

1. By the thoughts of our hearts. Psalm lxxxvi. 11. 2. By the words of our lips. Psalm li. 15. 3. By the works of our hands. 1 Corinthians x. 31.

Thy Kingdom come.—Psalm cx. 2.

1. Of Providence to defend us. Psalm xvii. 8. 2. Of grace to refine us. 1 Thessalonians v. 23. 3. Of glory to crown us. Colossians iii. 4.

Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven.—Acts xxxi. 14.

1. Towards us, without resistance. 1 Samuel iii. 18. 2. By us, without compulsion. Psalm cxix. 36. 3. Universally, without exception. Luke i. 6. 4. Eternally, without declension. Psalm cxix. 93.

Give us this day our daily bread.

1. Of necessity, for our bodies. Proverbs xxx. 8. 2. Of eternal life, for our souls. John vi. 34.

And forgive us our trespasses.—Psalm xxv. 11.

1. Against the commands of thy law. 1 John iii. 4. 2. Against the grace of thy gospel. 1 Timothy i. 13.

As we forgive them that trespass against us.—Matthew vi. 15.

1. By defaming our characters. Matthew v. 11. 2. By embezzling our property. Philemon 18. 3. By abusing our persons. Acts vii. 60.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.—Matthew xxvi. 41.

1. Of overwhelming afflictions. Psalm cxxx. 1. 2. Of worldly enticements. 1 John ii. 16. 3. Of Satan’s devices. 1 Timothy iii. 7. 4. Of error’s seduction. 1 Timothy vi. 10. 5. Of sinful affections. Romans i. 26.

For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever.—Jude 25.

1. Thy kingdom governs all. Psalm ciii. 19. 2. Thy power subdues all. Philippians iii. 20, 21. 3. Thy glory is above all. Psalm cxlviii. 13.

Amen.—Ephesians i. 11.

1. As it is in thy purposes. Isaiah xiv. 27. 2. So is it in thy promises. 2 Corinthians i. 20. 3. So be it in our prayers. Revelation xxii. 20. 4. So shall it be to thy praise. Revelation xix. 4.

ACROSTICAL PARAPHRASE.

§Our§ Lord and King, Who reign’st enthroned on high, §Father§ of Light! mysterious Deity! §Who§ art the great I AM, the last, the first, §Art§ righteous, holy, merciful, and just. §In§ realms of glory, scenes where angels sing, §Heaven§ is the dwelling-place of God our King. §Hallowed§ Thy name, which doth all names transcend, §Be§ Thou adored, our great Almighty Friend; §Thy§ glory shines beyond creation’s bound; §Name§ us ’mong those Thy choicest gifts surround. §Thy§ kingdom towers beyond Thy starry skies; §Kingdom§ Satanic falls, but Thine shall rise. §Come§ let Thine empire, O Thou Holy One, §Thy§ great and everlasting will be done. §Will§ God make known his will, his power display? §Be§ it the work of mortals to obey. §Done§ is the great, the wondrous work of love; §On§ Calvary’s cross he died, but reigns above; §Earth§ bears the record in Thy holy word. §As§ heaven adores Thy love, let earth, O Lord; §It§ shines transcendent in the eternal skies, §Is§ praised in heaven—for man, the Saviour dies. §In§ songs immortal, angels laud his name; §Heaven§ shouts with joy, and saints his love proclaim §Give§ us, O Lord, our food, nor cease to give §Us§ needful food on which our souls may live! §This§ be our boon to-day and days to come, §Day§ without end in our eternal home. §Our§ needy souls supply from day to day; §Daily§ assist and aid us when we pray; §Bread§ though we ask, yet, Lord, Thy blessings lend. §And§ make us grateful when Thy gifts descend. §Forgive§ our sins, which in destruction place §Us§, the vile rebels of a rebel race; §Our§ follies, faults, and trespasses forgive, §Debts§ which we ne’er can pay, nor Thou receive. §As§ we, O Lord, our neighbor’s faults o’erlook, §We§ beg Thou ’d’st blot ours from Thy memory’s book. §Forgive§ our enemies, extend Thy grace §Our§ souls to save, e’en Adam’s guilty race. §Debtors§ to Thee in gratitude and love, §And§ in that duty paid by saints above, §Lead§ us from sin, and in thy mercy raise §Us§ from the tempter and his hellish ways. §Not§ in our own, but in His name who bled, §Into§ Thine ear we pour our every need. §Temptation’s§ fatal charm help us to shun, §But§ may we conquer through Thy conquering Son; §Deliver§ us from all that can annoy §Us§ in this world, and may our souls destroy. §From§ all calamities that man betide, §Evil§ and death, O turn our feet aside,— §For§ we are mortal worms, and cleave to clay,— §Thine§ ’tis to rule, and mortals to obey. §Is§ not thy mercy, Lord, forever free? §The§ whole creation knows no God but Thee. §Kingdom§ and empire in Thy presence fall; §The§ King eternal reigns the King of all. §Power§ is Thine—to Thee be glory given, §And§ be thy name adored by earth and heaven. §The§ praise of saints and angels is Thy own; §Glory§ to Thee, the Everlasting One. §Forever§ be Thy holy name adored. AMEN! Hosannah! blessed be the Lord.

TRIFLING OF BIBLE COMMENTATORS.

Dr. Gill, in his Expository, seriously tells us that the word ABBA read backwards or forwards being the same, may teach us that God is the father of his people in adversity as well as in prosperity.

THE PRAYER ECHOED.

If any be distressed, and fain would gather Some comfort, let him haste unto Our Father. For we of hope and help are quite bereaven Except Thou succor us Who art in heaven. Thou showest mercy, therefore for the same We praise Thee, singing, Hallowed be Thy name. Of all our miseries cast up the sum; Show us thy joys, and let Thy kingdom come. We mortal are, and alter from our birth; Thou constant art; Thy will be done on earth. Thou madest the earth, as well as planets seven, Thy name be blessed here As ’tis in heaven. Nothing we have to use, or debts to pay, Except Thou give it us. Give us this day Wherewith to clothe us, wherewith to be fed, For without Thee we want Our daily bread. We want, but want no faults, for no day passes But we do sin. Forgive us our trespasses. No man from sinning ever free did live Forgive us, Lord, our sins, As we forgive. If we repent our faults, Thou ne’er disdain’st us; We pardon them That trespass against us; Forgive us that is past, a new path tread us; Direct us always in Thy faith, And lead us— Us, Thine own people and Thy chosen nation, Into all truth, but Not into temptation. Thou that of all good graces art the Giver, Suffer us not to wander, But deliver Us from the fierce assaults of world and devil And flesh; so shalt Thou free us From all evil. To these petitions let both church and laymen With one consent of heart and voice, say, Amen.

THE PRAYER IN AN ACROSTIC.

In the following curious composition the initial capitals spell, “My boast is in the glorious Cross of Christ.” The words in italics, when read from top to bottom and bottom to top, form the Lord’s Prayer complete:—

Make known the Gospel truths, Our Father King; Yield up thy grace, dear Father from above; Bless us with hearts which feelingly can sing, “Our life thou art for ever, God of Love!” Assuage our grief in love for Christ, we pray, Since the bright prince of Heaven and glory died, Took all our sins and hallowed the display, Infinite be-ing—first man, and then the crucified. Stupendous God! thy grace and power make known; In Jesus’ name let all the world rejoice. Now all the world thy heavenly kingdom own, The blessed kingdom for thy saints the choice. How vile to come to thee is all our cry, Enemies to thy self and all that’s thine, Graceless our will, we live for vanity, Lending to sin our be-ing, evil in our design. O God, thy will be done from earth to Heaven; Reclining on the Gospel let us live, In earth from sin deliver-ed and forgiven, Oh! as thyself but teach us to forgive. Unless it’s power temptation doth destroy, Sure is our fall into the depths of woe, Carnal in mind, we’ve not a glimpse of joy Raised against Heaven; in us no hope can flow. O give us grace and lead us on thy way; Shine on us with thy love and give us peace; Self and this sin that rise against us slay; Oh! grant each day our trespass-es may cease. Forgive our evil deeds that oft we do; Convince us daily of them to our shame; Help us with heavenly bread, forgive us, too, Recurrent lusts, and we’ll adore thy name. In thy forgive-ness we as saints can die, Since for us and our trespasses so high, Thy son, our Saviour, bled on Calvary.

Ecclesiasticæ.

EXCESSIVE CIVILITY.

Tom Brown, in his Laconics, says that in the reign of Charles II. a certain worthy divine at Whitehall thus addressed himself to the auditory at the conclusion of his sermon: “In short, if you don’t live up to the precepts of the gospel, but abandon yourselves to your irregular appetites, you must expect to receive your reward in a certain place, which ’tis not good manners to mention here.” This suggested to Pope the couplet,

“To rest, the cushion and soft dean invite, Who never mentions hell to ears polite.”

SHORT SERMONS.

Dean Swift, having been solicited to preach a charity sermon, mounted the pulpit, and after announcing his text, “He that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord,” simply said, “Now, my brethren, if you are satisfied with the security, down with the dust.” He then took his seat, and there was an unusually large collection.

* * * * *

The following abridgment contains the pith and marrow, sum and substance, of a sermon which occupied an hour in delivery:—

“Man is born to trouble.” This subject, my hearers, is naturally divisible into four heads:— 1. Man’s entrance into the world; 2. His progress through the world; 3. His exit from the world; and 4. Practical reflections from what may be said. First, then:— 1. Man’s ingress in life is naked and bare, 2. His progress through life is trouble and care, 3. His egress from it, none can tell where, 4. But doing well here, he will be well there. Now, on this subject, my brethren dear, I could not tell more by preaching a year.

A SERMON ON MALT.

The Rev. Dr. Dodd lived within a few miles of Cambridge, (England,) and had offended several students by preaching a sermon on temperance. One day some of them met him. They said one to another,—

“Here’s Father Dodd: he shall preach us a sermon.” Accosting him with,—

“Your servants.”

“Sirs! yours, gentlemen!” replied the Doctor.

They said, “We have a favor to ask of you, which must be granted.” The divine asked what it was.

“To preach a sermon,” was the reply.

“Well,” said he, “appoint the time and place, and I will.”

“The time, the present; the place, that hollow tree,” (pointing to it,) said the students.

“’Tis an imposition!” said the Doctor: “there ought to be consideration before preaching.”

“If you refuse,” responded they, “we will put you into the tree!” Whereupon the Doctor acquiesced, and asked them for a text.

“Malt!” said they.

The reverend gentleman commenced:—

“Let me crave your attention, my beloved!

“I am a little man, come at a short warning, to preach a short sermon, upon a short subject, to a thin congregation, in an unworthy pulpit. Beloved! my text is ‘§Malt§.’ I cannot divide it into syllables, it being but a monosyllable: therefore I must divide it into letters, which I find in my text to be four:—§M-a-l-t.§ M, my beloved, is moral—A, is allegorical—L, is literal—T, is theological.

“1st. The moral teaches such as you drunkards good manners; therefore M, my masters—A, all of you—L, leave off—T, tippling.

“2d. The allegorical is, when one thing is spoken and another meant; the thing here spoken is Malt, the thing meant the oil of malt, which you rustics make M, your masters—A, your apparel—L, your liberty—T, your trusts.

“3d. The theological is according to the effects it works, which are of two kinds—the first in this world, the second in the world to come. The effects it works in this world are, in some, M, murder—in others, A, adultery—in all, L, looseness of life—and particularly in some, T, treason. In the world to come, the effects of it are, M, misery—A, anguish—L, lamentation—T, torment—and thus much for my text, ‘Malt.’

“Infer 1st: As words of exhortation: M, my masters—A, all of you—L, leave off—T, tippling.

“2d. A word for conviction: M, my masters—A, all of you—L, look for—T, torment.

“3d. A word for caution, take this: A drunkard is the annoyance of modesty—the spoiler of civility—the destroyer of reason—the brewer’s agent—the alewife’s benefactor—his wife’s sorrow—his children’s trouble—his neighbor’s scoff—a walking swill-tub—a picture of a beast—a monster of a man.”

The youngsters found the truth so unpalatable, that they soon deserted their preacher, glad to get beyond the reach of his voice.

ELOQUENCE OF BASCOM.

The following passages will serve to illustrate the peculiar oratorical style of Rev. Henry B. Bascom, the distinguished Kentucky preacher:—

“Chemistry, with its fire-tongs of the galvanic battery, teaches that the starry diamond in the crown of kings, and the black carbon which the peasant treads beneath his feet, are both composed of the same identical elements; analysis also proves that a chief ingredient in limestone is carbon. Then let the burning breath of God pass over all the limestone of the earth, and bid its old mossy layers crystalize into new beauty; and lo! at the Almighty fiat the mountain ranges flash into living gems with a lustre that renders midnight noon, and eclipses all the stars!”

He urged the same view by another example, still better adapted to popular apprehension:—

“Look yonder,” said the impassioned orator, pointing a motionless finger towards the lofty ceiling, as if it were the sky. “See that wrathful thunder-cloud—the fiery bed of the lightnings and hissing hail—the cradle of tempests and floods!—What can be more dark, more dreary, more dreadful? Say, scoffing skeptic, is it capable of any beauty? You pronounce, ‘no.’ Well, very well; but behold, while the sneering denial curls your proud lips, the sun with its sword of light shears through the sea of vapors in the west, and laughs in your incredulous face with his fine golden eye. Now, look again at the thunder-cloud! See! where it was blackest and fullest of gloom, the sunbeams have kissed its hideous cheek; and where the kiss fell there is now a blush, brighter than ever mantled on the brow of mortal maiden—the rich blush of crimson and gold, of purple and vermilion—a pictured blush, fit for the gaze of angels—the flower-work of pencils of fire and light, wrought at a dash by one stroke of the right hand of God! Ay, the ugly cloud hath given birth to the rainbow, that perfection and symbol of unspeakable beauty!”

THE LORD BISHOP.

The following incident is said to have occurred in the parish church of Bradford, England, during a special service, on the occasion of a visit from the bishop of the diocese:—

The clerk, before the sermon, gave out the psalm in broad Wiltshire dialect, namely:—“Let us zing to the praayze an’ glawry o’ God, three varsses o’ the hundred and vourteen zaam—a varsion ’specially ’dapted to the ’caasion,—by meself:”—

Why hop ye zo, ye little hills, An’ what var de’e skip? Is it ’cas you’m proud to see His grace the Lard Bish_ip_?

Why skip ye zo, ye little hills, An’ what var de’e hop? Is it ’cas to preach to we Is com’d the Lard Bish_op_!

Eese;—he is com’d to preach to we: Then let us aul strick up, An’ zing a glawrious zong of praayze, An’ bless the Lard Bish_up_!

THE PREACHERS OF CROMWELL’S TIME.

Dr. Echard says of the preachers who lived in the time of Cromwell,—“Coiners of new phrases, drawers-out of long godly words, thick pourers-out of texts of Scripture, mimical squeakers and bellowers, vain-glorious admirers only of themselves, and those of their own fashioned face and gesture; such as these shall be followed, shall have their bushels of China oranges, shall be solaced with all manner of cordial essences, and shall be rubbed down with Holland of ten shillings an ell.”

One of the singular fashions that prevailed among the preachers of those days was that of coughing or hemming in the middle of a sentence, as an ornament of speech; and when their sermons were printed, the place where the preacher coughed or hemmed was always noted in the margin. This practice was not confined to England, for Olivier Maillard, a Cordelier, and famous preacher, printed a sermon at Brussels in the year 1500, and marked in the margin where the preacher hemmed once or twice, or coughed.

ORIGIN OF TEXTS.

The custom of taking a text as the basis of a sermon originated with Ezra, who, we are told, accompanied by several Levites in a public congregation of men and women, ascended a pulpit, opened the book of the law, and after addressing a prayer to the Deity, to which the people said Amen, “read in the book in the law of God distinctly, and gave the sense, and caused them to understand the reading.” (Nehemiah viii. 8.)

Previous to the time of Ezra, the Patriarchs delivered, in public assemblies, either prophecies or moral instructions for the edification of the people; and it was not until the return of the Jews from the Babylonish captivity, during which time they had almost lost the language in which the Pentateuch was written, that it became necessary to explain, as well as to read, the Scriptures to them. In later times, the book of Moses was thus read in the synagogues every Sabbath day. (Acts xv. 21.) To this custom our Saviour conformed: in the synagogue at Nazareth he read a passage from the prophet Isaiah, then closing the book, returned it to the priest, and preached from the text.

CLERICAL BLUNDERS.

In an old book of Sermons by a divine named Milsom, we are told that it is one among many proofs of the wisdom and benevolence of Providence that the world was not created in the midst of winter, when Adam and Eve could have found nothing to eat, but in harvest-time, when there was fruit on every tree and shrub to tempt the willing hand.

Another commentator praises Divine Goodness for always making the largest rivers flow close by the most populous towns.

St. Austin undertook to prove that the ten plagues of Egypt were punishments adapted to the breach of the ten commandments,—forgetting that the law was given to the Jews, and that the plagues were inflicted on the Egyptians, and also that the law was not given in the form of commandments until nearly three months after the plagues had been sent.

PROVING AN ALIBI.

A clergyman at Cambridge preached a sermon which one of his auditors commended. “Yes,” said a gentleman to whom it was mentioned, “it was a good sermon, but he stole it.” This was told to the preacher. He resented it, and called on the gentleman to retract what he had said. “I am not,” replied the aggressor, “very apt to retract my words, but in this instance I will. I said, you had stolen the sermon; I find I was wrong; for on returning home, and referring to the book whence I thought it was taken, I found it there.”

WHITEFIELD AND THE SAILORS.

Mr. Whitefield, whose gestures and play of features were so full of dramatic power, once preached before the seamen at New York, and, in the course of his sermon, introduced the following bold apostrophe:—

“Well, my boys, we have a clear sky, and are making fine headway over a smooth sea before a light breeze, and we shall soon lose sight of land. But what means this sudden lowering of the heavens, and that dark cloud arising from the western horizon? Hark! Don’t you hear the distant thunder? Don’t you see those flashes of lightning? There is a storm gathering! Every man to his duty. How the waves rise and dash against the ship! The air is dark! The tempest rages! Our masts are gone. The ship is on her beam ends! What next?” The unsuspecting tars, reminded of former perils on the deep, as if struck by the power of magic, arose and exclaimed, “Take to the long boat.”

PROTESTANT EXCOMMUNICATION.

John Knox, in his Liturgy for Scotch Presbyterians, sets forth the following form for the exercise of such an attribute of ecclesiastical authority in Protestant communities as excommunication:—

“O Lord Jesus Christ, thy expressed word is our assurance, and therefore, in boldness of the same, here in thy name, and at the commandment of this thy present congregation, we cut off, seclude, and excommunicate from thy body, and from our society, N. as a pround contemner, and slanderous person, and a member for the present altogether corrupted, and pernicious to the body. And this his sin (albeit with sorrow of our hearts) by virtue of our ministry, we bind and pronounce the same to be bound in heaven and earth. We further give over, into the hands and power of the devil, the said N. to the destruction of his flesh; straitly charging all that profess the Lord Jesus, to whose knowledge this our sentence shall come, to repute and hold the said N. accursed and unworthy of the familiar society of Christians; declaring unto all men that such as hereafter (before his repentance) shall haunt, or familiarly accompany him, are partakers of his impiety, and subject to the like condemnation.

“This our sentence, O Lord Jesus, pronounced in thy name, and at thy commandment, we humbly beseech thee to ratify even according to thy promise.”

Puritan Peculiarities.

BAPTISMAL NAMES.

A Puritan maiden, who was asked for her baptismal name, replied, “‘Through-much-tribulation-we-enter-the-kingdom-of-Heaven,’ but for short they call me ‘Tribby.’”

* * * * *

The following names will be found in Lower’s English Sirnames, and in the Lansdowne Collection. Most of them are taken from a jury-list of Sussex County, 1658. The favorite female baptismal names among the Puritans were Mercy, Faith, Fortune, Honor, Virtue; but there were among them those who preferred such high-flown names as Alethe, Prothesa, Euphrosyne, Kezia, Keturah, Malvina, Melinda, Sabrina, Alpina, Oriana.

The-gift-of-God Stringer, Repentant Hazel, Zealous King, Be-thankful Playnard, Live-in-peace Hillary, Obediencia Cruttenden, Goodgift Noake, The-work-of-God Farmer, More-tryal Goodwin, Faithful Long, Joy-from-above Brown, Be-of-good-comfort Small, Godward Freeman, Thunder Goldsmith. Faint-not Hewett, Redeemed Compton, God-reward Smart, Earth Adams, Meek Brewer, Repentance Avis, Kill-sin Pimple, Be-faithful Joiner, More-fruit Flower, Grace-ful Harding, Seek-wisdom Wood, Fight-the-good-fight-of-faith White, Accepted Trevor, Make-peace Heaton, Stand-fast-on-high Stringer, Called Lower, Be-courteous Cole, Search-the-scriptures Moreton, Return Spelman, Fly-debate Roberts, Hope-for Bending, Weep-not Billing, Elected Mitchell, The-peace-of-God Knight

SIMILES.

Prayer is Faith’s pump, where’t works till the water come; If’t comes not free at first, Faith puts in some. Prayer is the sacred bellows; when these blow, How doth that live-coal from God’s altar glow! Faithful Teate’s Ter. Tria., 1658.

Walking in the streets, I met a cart that came near the wall; so I stepped aside, to avoid it, into a place where I was secure enough. Reflection: Lord, sin is that great evil of which thou complainest that thou art pressed as a cart is pressed: how can it then but bruise me to powder?—Caleb Trenchfield’s Chris. Chymestree.

EARLY PUNISHMENTS IN MASSACHUSETTS.

From the early records of Massachusetts we learn that the following singular punishments were inflicted in that colony two hundred years ago:—

Sir Richard Salstonstall, fined four bushels of malt for his absence from the court.

Josias Plaistowe, for stealing four baskets of corn from the Indians, to return them eight baskets again, to be fined £5, and hereafter to be called Josias, not Mr. as he used to be.

Thomas Peter, for suspicions of slander, idleness, and stubbornness, is to be severely whipped and kept in hold.

Capt. Stone, for abusing Mr. Ludlow by calling him justass, fined £100, and prohibited coming within the patent.

Joyce Dradwick to give unto Alexander Becks 20_s._, for promising him marriage without her friends’ consent, and now refusing to perform the same.

Richard Turner, for being notoriously drunk, fined £2.

Edward Palmer, for his extortion in taking 32_s._ 7_d._ for the plank and work of Boston stocks, fined £5, and sentenced to sit one hour in the stocks.

John White bound in £10 to good behavior, and not come into the company of his neighbor Thomas Bell’s wife alone.

VIRGINIA PENALTIES IN THE OLDEN TIME.

From the old records in the Court House of Warwick County, Virginia, we extract some entries of decisions by the court under date of October 21, 1663. It may be worth while to remark that at that early period tobacco was not only a staple commodity but a substitute for currency.

“Mr. John Harlow, and Alice his wife, being by the grand inquest presented for absenting themselves from church, are, according to the act, fined each of them fifty pounds of tobacco; and the said Mr. John Harlow ordered forthwith to pay one hundred pounds of tobacco to the sheriff, otherwise the said sheriff to levy by way of distress.”

“Jane Harde, the wife of Henry Harde, being presented for not ’tending church, is, according to act, fined fifty pounds of tobacco; and the sheriff is ordered to collect the same from her, and, in case of non-payment, to distress.”

“John Lewis, his wife this day refusing to take the oath of allegiance, being ordered her, is committed into the sheriff’s custody, to remain until she take the said oath, or until further ordered to the contrary.”

“John Lewis, his wife for absenting herself from church, is fined fifty pounds of tobacco, to be collected by the sheriff from her husband; and upon non-payment, the said sheriff to distress.”

“George Harwood, being prosecuted for his absenting himself from church, is fined fifty pounds of tobacco, to be levied by way of distress by the sheriff upon his non-payment thereof.”

“Peter White and his wife, being presented for common swearing, are fined fifty pounds of tobacco, both of them; to be collected by the sheriff from the said White, and, upon non-payment of the same, to distress.”

“Richard King, being presented as a common swearer, is fined fifty pounds of tobacco, to be levied by the sheriff, by way of distress, upon his non-payment.”

EXTRACTS FROM THE CONNECTICUT BLUE LAWS.

When these free states were colonies Unto the mother nation, And in Connecticut the good Old Blue Laws were in fashion.

The following extracts from the laws ordained by the people of New Haven, previous to their incorporation with the Saybrook and Hartford colonies, afford an idea of the strange character of their prohibitions. As the substance only is given in the transcription, the language is necessarily modernized:—

No quaker or dissenter from the established worship of the dominion shall be allowed to give a vote for the election of magistrates, or any officer.

No food or lodging shall be afforded to a quaker, adamite, or other heretic.

If any person turns quaker, he shall be banished, and not suffered to return, but upon pain of death.

No priest shall abide in the dominion: he shall be banished, and suffer death on his return. Priests may be seized by any one without a warrant.

No man to cross a river but with an authorized ferryman.

No one shall run on the sabbath-day, or walk in his garden, or elsewhere, except reverently to and from meeting.

No one shall travel, cook victuals, make beds, sweep house, cut hair or shave, on the sabbath-day.

No woman shall kiss her child on the sabbath or fasting-day.

The sabbath shall begin at sunset on Saturday.

To pick an ear of corn growing in a neighbor’s garden shall be deemed theft.

A person accused of trespass in the night shall be judged guilty, unless he clear himself by oath.

When it appears that an accused has confederates, and he refuses to discover them, he may be racked.

No one shall buy or sell lands without permission of the selectmen.

A drunkard shall have a master appointed by the selectmen, who are to debar him the liberty of buying and selling.

Whoever publishes a lie to the prejudice of his neighbor, shall sit in the stocks or be whipped fifteen stripes.

No minister shall keep a school.

Men-stealers shall suffer death.

Whoever wears clothes trimmed with gold, silver, or bone lace, above two shillings by the yard, shall be presented by the grand jurors, and the selectmen shall tax the offender at £300 estate.

A debtor in prison, swearing he has no estate, shall be let out, and sold to make satisfaction.

Whoever sets a fire in the woods, and it burns a house, shall suffer death; and persons suspected of this crime shall be imprisoned without benefit of bail.

Whoever brings cards or dice into this dominion shall pay a fine of £5.

No one shall read common-prayer, keep Christmas or saint-days, make minced pies, dance, play cards, or play on any instrument of music, except the drum, trumpet, and Jews-harp.

No gospel minister shall join people in marriage; the magistrates only shall join in marriage, as they may do it with less scandal to Christ’s church.

When parents refuse their children convenient marriages, the magistrate shall determine the point.

The selectmen, on finding children ignorant, may take them away from their parents, and put them into better hands, at the expense of their parents.

A man that strikes his wife shall pay a fine of £10; a woman that strikes her husband shall be punished as the court directs.

A wife shall be deemed good evidence against her husband.

Married persons must live together, or be imprisoned.

No man shall court a maid in person, or by letter, without first obtaining consent of her parents: £5 penalty for the first offence; £10 for the second; and for the third, imprisonment during the pleasure of the court.

Every male shall have his hair cut round according to a cap.

Paronomasia.

Hard is the job to launch the desperate pun; A pun-job dangerous as the Indian one.—§Holmes.§

Life and language are alike sacred. Homicide and verbicide—that is, violent treatment of a word with fatal results to its legitimate meaning, which is its life—are alike forbidden. Manslaughter, which is the meaning of the one, is the same as man’s laughter, which is the end of the other.—§Ibid.§

The quaint Cardan thus defineth:—“Punning is an art of harmonious jingling upon words, which, passing in at the ears and falling upon the diaphragma, excites a titillary motion in those parts; and this, being conveyed by the animal spirits into the muscles of the face, raises the cockles of the heart.”

“He who would make a pun would pick a pocket,” is the stereotyped dogma fulminated by laugh-lynchers from time immemorial; or, as the Autocrat hath it, “To trifle with the vocabulary which is the vehicle of social intercourse is to tamper with the currency of human intelligence. He who would violate the sanctities of his mother tongue would invade the recesses of the paternal till without remorse, and repeat the banquet of Saturn without an indigestion.” The “inanities of this working-day world” cannot perceive any wittiness or grace in punning; and yet, according to the comprehensive definition of wit by Dr. Barrow, the eminent divine, it occupies a very considerable portion of the realm of wit. He says, “Wit is a thing so versatile and multiform, appearing in so many shapes, so many postures, so many garbs, so variously apprehended by several eyes and judgments, that it seemeth no less hard to settle a clear and certain notion thereof, than to make a portrait of Proteus, or to define the figure of the fleeting air. Sometimes it lieth in pat allusions to a known story, or in seasonable application of a trivial saying, or in feigning an apposite tale; sometimes it playeth in words and phrases, taking advantage of the ambiguity of their sense, or the affinity of their sound; sometimes it is wrapped in a dress of humorous expression, sometimes it lurketh under an odd similitude; sometimes it is lodged in a sly question, in a smart answer, in a quirkish reason, in a shrewd intimation, in cunningly, divertingly, or cleverly retorting an objection; sometimes it is couched in a bold scheme of speech, in a tart irony, in a lusty hyperbole, in a startling metaphor, in a plausible reconciling of contradictions, or in acute nonsense; sometimes a scenic representation of persons or things, a counterfeit speech, a mimic look or gesture, passeth for it. Sometimes an affected simplicity, sometimes a presumptuous bluntness, giveth it being. Sometimes it riseth only from a lucky hitting upon what is strange; sometimes from a crafty wresting of obvious matter to the purpose. Often it consisteth of one knows not what, and springeth up one can hardly tell how. Its ways are unaccountable and inexplicable, being answerable to the numberless rovings of fancy and windings of language.”

If this definition be true, there is truth as well as wit in the punster’s reply to the taunt of the rhetorician that “punning is the lowest species of wit.” “Yes,” said he, “for it is the foundation of all wit.” But, whatever may be said of the practice by those who affect to despise it, it has been much in vogue in all ages. Horne, in his Introduction to the Critical Study of the Holy Scriptures, tells us that it was a very favorite figure of rhetoric among the Hebrews, and is yet common among most of the Oriental nations. Professor Stuart, in his Hebrew grammar, gives numerous examples of it in the Old Testament, and Winer and Horne point out others in the New Testament, especially in the writings of St. Paul. These cannot, of course, be equivalently expressed in English.

Many of the Greek authors exhibit a fondness for this rhetorical figure, and some of the most excellent puns extant are to be found in the Greek Anthologies. As a specimen, the following is given from Wesseling’s Diodorus Siculus:—

Dioscurus, an Egyptian bishop, before he began the service, had the common custom of saying ειρηνη πασιν, (irene pasin,) peace be to all. It was notorious that the pious churchman had at home a favorite mistress, whose name was Irene, which incident produced the following smart epigram:—

Ειρηνη παντεσσιν επισκοπος ειπεν εχελθων Πως δυναται πασιν, ἡν μονος ενδον εχει;

(The good bishop wishes peace—Irene—to all; But how can he give that to all, which he keeps to himself at home?)

A PUN-GENT CHAPTER.

At one time there was a general strike among the workingmen of Paris, and Theodore Hook gave the following amusing account of the affair:—“The bakers, being ambitious to extend their do-mains, declared that a revolution was needed, and, though not exactly bred up to arms, soon reduced their crusty masters to terms. The tailors called a council of the board, to see what measures should be taken, and, looking upon the bakers as the flower of chivalry, decided to follow suit; the consequence of which was, that a cereous insurrection was lighted up among the candle-makers, which, however wick-ed it might appear in the eyes of some persons, developed traits of character not unworthy of ancient Greece.”

Why should no man starve on the deserts of Arabia? Because of the sand which is there. How came the sandwiches there? The tribe of Ham was bred there, and mustered.

A clergyman who had united in marriage a couple whose Christian names were Benjamin and Annie, on being asked by a mutual friend how they appeared during the ceremony, replied that they appeared both annie-mated and bene-fitted.

Mr. Manners, who had but lately been created Earl of Rutland, said to Sir Thomas More, just made Lord Chancellor,—

“You are so much elated with your preferment that you verify the old proverb,—

Honores mutant §Mores§.”

“No, my lord,” said Sir Thomas: “the pun will do much better in English:—

Honors change §Manners§.”

An old writer said that when cannons were introduced as negotiators, the canons of the church were useless; that the world was governed first by mitrum, and then by nitrum,—first by St. Peter, and then by saltpetre.

Column, the dramatist, on being asked whether he knew Theodore Hook, replied, “Oh, yes: Hook and Eye are old associates.”

Punch says, “the milk of human kindness is not to be found in the pail of society.” If so, we think it is time for all hands to “kick the bucket.”

Judge Peters, formerly of the Philadelphia Bench, observed to a friend, during a trial that was going on, that one of the witnesses had a vegetable head. “How so?” was the inquiry. “He has carroty hair, reddish cheeks, a turnup nose, and a sage look.”

Tom Hood, seeing over the shop-door of a beer-vendor,—

Bear Sold Here,

said it was spelled right, because it was his own Bruin.

Charles Mathews, the comedian, was served by a green-grocer, named Berry, and generally settled his bill once a quarter. At one time the account was sent in before it was due, and Mathews, laboring under an idea that his credit was doubted, said, “Here’s a pretty mull, Berry. You have sent in your bill, Berry, before it is due, Berry. Your father, the elder Berry, would not have been such a goose, Berry; but you need not look so black, Berry, for I don’t care a straw, Berry, and sha’n’t pay you till Christmas, Berry.”

Sheridan, being dunned by a tailor to pay at least the interest on his bill, answered that it was not his interest to pay the principal, nor his principle to pay the interest.

In the “Old India House” may still be seen a quarto volume of Interest Tables, on the fly-leaf of which is written, in Charles Lamb’s round, clerkly hand,—

“A book of much interest.”—Edinburgh Review.

“A work in which the interest never flags.”—Quarterly Review.

“We may say of this volume, that the interest increases from the beginning to the end.”—Monthly Review.

Turner, the painter, was at a dinner where several artists, amateurs, and literary men were convened. A poet, by way of being facetious, proposed as a toast, “The Painters and Glaziers of England.” The toast was drunk; and Turner, after returning thanks for it, proposed “Success to the Paper-Stainers,” and called on the poet to respond.

SHORT ROAD TO WEALTH.

I’ll tell you a plan for gaining wealth, Better than banking, trade, or leases; Take a bank-note and fold it across, And then you will find your money §IN-CREASES§!

This wonderful plan, without danger or loss, Keeps your cash in your hands, and with nothing to trouble it; And every time that you fold it across, ’Tis plain as the light of the day that you §DOUBLE IT§!

“I cannot move,” the plaintive invalid cries, “Nor sit, nor stand.”—If he says true, he lies.

Dr. Johnson having freely expressed his aversion to punning, Boswell hinted that his illustrious friend’s dislike to this species of small wit might arise from his inability to play upon words. “Sir”, roared Johnson, “if I were punish-ed for every pun I shed, there would not be left a puny shed of my punnish head.” Once, by accident, he made a singular pun. A person who affected to live after the Greek manner, and to anoint himself with oil, was one day mentioned to him. Johnson, in the course of conversation on the singularity of his practice, gave him the denomination of this man of Grease.

Sydney Smith—so Lord Houghton in his Monographs tells us—has written depreciatingly of all playing upon words; but his rapid apprehension could not altogether exclude a kind of wit which, in its best forms, takes fast hold of the memory, besides the momentary amusement it excites. His objection to the superiority of a city feast: “I cannot wholly value a dinner by the test you do (testudo);”—his proposal to settle the question of the wood pavement around St. Paul’s: “Let the Canons once lay their heads together and the thing will be done;”—his pretty compliment to his friends, Mrs. Tighe and Mrs. Cuffe: “Ah! there you are: the cuff that every one would wear, the tie that no one would loose”—may be cited as perfect in their way.

Admiral Duncan’s address to the officers who came on board his ship for instructions, previous to the engagement with Admiral de Winter, was laconic and humorous: “Gentlemen, you see a severe Winter approaching; I have only to advise you to keep up a good fire.”

Theodore Hook plays thus on the same name:—

Here comes Mr. Winter, inspector of taxes; I advise you to give him whatever he axes; I advise you to give him without any flummery, For though his name’s Winter his actions are summary.

Henry Erskine’s toast to the mine-owners of Lancashire:—

Sink your pits, blast your mines, dam your rivers, consume your manufactures, disperse your commerce, and may your labors be in vein.

TOM MOORE.

When Limerick, in idle whim, Moore as her member lately courted, ’The boys,’ for form’s sake, asked of him To state what party he supported.

When thus his answer promptly ran, (Now give the wit his meed of glory:) “I’m of no party as a man, But as a poet am-a-tory.”

TOP AND BOTTOM.

The following playful colloquy in verse took place at a dinner-table, between Sir George Rose and James Smith, in allusion to Craven street, Strand, where the latter resided:—

J. S.—At the top of my street the attorneys abound, And down at the bottom the barges are found: Fly, honesty, fly to some safer retreat, For there’s craft in the river, and craft in the street.

Sir G. R.—Why should honesty fly to some safer retreat, From attorneys, and barges, od-rot ’em? For the lawyers are just at the top of the street, And the barges are just at the bottom.

OLD JOKE VERSIFIED.

Says Tom to Bill, pray tell me, sir, Why is it that the devil, In spite of all his naughty ways, Can never be uncivil?

Says Bill to Tom, the answer’s plain To any mind that’s bright: Because the imp of darkness, sir, Can ne’er be imp o’ light.

A PRINTER’S EPITAPH.

Here lies a form—place no imposing stone To mark the head, where weary it is lain; ’Tis matter dead!—its mission being done, To be distributed to dust again. The body’s but the type, at best, of man, Whose impress is the spirit’s deathless page; Worn out, the type is thrown to pi again, The impression lives through an eternal age.

STICKY.

I want to seal a letter, Dick, Some wax pray give to me.— I have not got a single stick, Or whacks I’d give to thee.

WOMEN.

When Eve brought woe to all mankind, Old Adam called her wo-man; But when she woo’d with love so kind, He then pronounced her woo-man.

But now with folly and with pride, Their husbands’ pockets trimming, The ladies are so full of whims, The people call them whim-men.

BEN, THE SAILOR.

His death, which happened in his berth, At forty odd befell: They went and told the sexton, and The sexton tolled the bell.—§Hood’s§ Faithless Sally Brown.

WHISKERS VERSUS RAZOR.

With whiskers thick upon my face I went my fair to see; She told me she could never love A bear-faced chap like me.

I shaved then clean, and called again, And thought my troubles o’er; She laughed outright, and said I was More bare-faced than before!

COMPLIMENT OF SHERIDAN TO MISS PAYNE.

’Tis true I am ill; but I cannot complain, For he never knew pleasure who never knew Payne.

FROM DR. HOLMES’ “MODEST REQUEST.”

Thus great Achilles, who had shown his zeal In §HEALING WOUNDS§, died of a §WOUNDED HEEL§; Unhappy chief, who, when in childhood doused, Had saved his §BACON§ had his feet been §SOUSED§! Accursed heel, that killed a hero stout! Oh, had your mother known that you were out, Death had not entered at the trifling part That still defies the small chirurgeon’s art With corn and §BUNIONS§,—not the glorious §John§ Who wrote the book we all have pondered on,— But other §BUNIONS§, bound in fleecy hose, To “§Pilgrim’s Progress§” unrelenting foes!

PLAINT OF THE OLD PAUPER.

Some boast of their §FORE§-fathers—I— I have not §ONE§! I am, I think, like Joshua, The son of §NONE§!

Heedless in youth, we little note How quick time passes, For then flows ruby wine, not sand, In §OUR§ glasses!

Rich friends (most pure in honor) all have fled Sooner or later; Pshaw! had they India’s spices, they’d not be A nutmeg-§GRATER§!

I’ve neither chick nor child; as I have nothing, Why, ’tis lucky rather; Yet who that hears a squalling baby wishes Not to be §FATHER§?

Some few years back my spirits and my youth Were quite amazin’; Brisk as a pony, or a lawyer’s clerk, Just fresh from §Gray’s Inn§!

What am I now? weak, old, and poor, and by The parish found; Their §PENCE§ keeps me, while many an ass Enjoys the parish §POUND§!

TO MY NOSE.

Knows he that never took a pinch, Nosey! the pleasure thence which flows? Knows he the titillating joy Which my nose knows?

Oh, nose! I am as fond of thee As any mountain of its snows! I gaze on thee, and feel that pride A Roman knows!

BOOK-LARCENY.

Sir Walter Scott said that some of his friends were bad accountants, but excellent book-keepers.

How hard, when those who do not wish To lend—that’s lose—their books, Are snared by anglers—folks that fish With literary hooks;

Who call and take some favorite tome, But never read it through; They thus complete their sett at home, By making one of you.

I, of my Spenser quite bereft, Last winter sore was shaken; Of Lamb I’ve but a quarter left, Nor could I save my Bacon.

They picked my Locke, to me far more Than Bramah’s patent worth; And now my losses I deplore, Without a Home on earth.

Even Glover’s works I cannot put My frozen hands upon; Though ever since I lost my Foote, My Bunyan has been gone.

My life is wasting fast away; I suffer from these shocks; And though I’ve fixed a lock on Gray, There’s gray upon my locks.

They still have made me slight returns, And thus my grief divide; For oh! they’ve cured me of my Burns, And eased my Akenside.

But all I think I shall not say, Nor let my anger burn; For as they have not found me Gay, They have not left me Sterne.

THE VEGETABLE GIRL.

Behind a market stall installed, I mark it every day, Stands at her stand the fairest girl I’ve met with in the bay; Her two lips are of cherry red, Her hands a pretty pair, With such a pretty turn-up nose, And lovely reddish hair.

’Tis there she stands from morn till night Her customers to please, And to appease their appetite She sells them beans and peas. Attracted by the glances from The apple of her eye, And by her Chili apples, too, Each passer-by will buy.

She stands upon her little feet, Throughout the livelong day, And sells her celery and things,— A big feat, by the way. She changes off her stock for change, Attending to each call; And when she has but one beet left, She says, “Now that beats all.”

EPITAPH ON AN OLD HORSE.

Here lies a faithful steed, A stanch, uncompromising “silver gray;” Who ran the race of life with sprightly speed, Yet never ran—away.

Wild oats he never sowed, Yet masticated tame ones with much zest: Cheerful he bore each light allotted load, As cheerfully took rest.

Bright were his eyes, yet soft, And in the main his tail was white and flowing; And though he never sketched a single draught, He showed great taste for drawing.

Lithe were his limbs, and clean, Fitted alike for buggy or for dray, And like Napoleon the Great, I ween, He had a martial neigh.

Oft have I watched him grace His favorite stall, well littered, warm, and fair, With such contentment shining from his face, And such a stable air!

With here and there a speck Of roan diversifying his broad back, And, martyr-like, a halter round his neck, Which bound him to the rack.

Mors omnibus! at length The hay-day of his life was damped by death; So, summoning all his late remaining strength, He drew his—final breath.

GRAND SCHEME OF EMIGRATION.

The Brewers should to Malt-a go, The Loggerheads to Scilly, The Quakers to the Friendly Isles, The Furriers all to Chili.

The little squalling, brawling brats, That break our nightly rest, Should be packed off to Baby-lon, To Lap-land, or to Brest.

From Spit-head Cooks go o’er to Greece; And while the Miser waits His passage to the Guinea coast, Spendthrifts are in the Straits.

Spinsters should to the Needles go, Wine-bibbers to Burgundy; Gourmands should lunch at Sandwich Isles, Wags in the Bay of Fun-dy.

Musicians hasten to the Sound, The surpliced Priest to Rome; While still the race of Hypocrites At Cant-on are at home.

Lovers should hasten to Good Hope; To some Cape Horn is pain; Debtors should go to Oh-i-o, And Sailors to the Main-e.

Hie, Bachelors, to the United States! Maids, to the Isle of Man; Let Gardeners go to Botany Bay, And Shoeblacks to Japan.

Thus, emigrants and misplaced men Will then no longer vex us; And all that a’n’t provided for Had better go to Texas.

THE PERILOUS PRACTICE OF PUNNING.

Theodore Hook thus cautions young people to resist provocation to the habit of punning:—

My little dears, who learn to read, pray early learn to shun That very silly thing indeed which people call a pun. Read Entick’s rules, and ’twill be found how simple an offence It is to make the self-same sound afford a double sense. For instance, ale may make you ail, your aunt an ant may kill, You in a vale may buy a vail, and Bill may pay the bill, Or if to France your bark you steer, at Dover it may be, A peer appears upon the pier, who, blind, still goes to sea. Thus one might say when to a treat good friends accept our greeting, ’Tis meet that men who meet to eat, should eat their meat when meeting. Brawn on the board’s no bore indeed, although from boar prepared; Nor can the fowl on which we feed foul feeding be declared. Thus one ripe fruit may be a pear, and yet be pared again, And still be one, which seemeth rare, until we do explain. It therefore should be all your aim to speak with ample care; For who, however fond of game, would choose to swallow hair? A fat man’s gait may make us smile, who has no gate to close; The farmer sitting on his stile no stylish person knows; Perfumers men of scents must be; some Scilly men are bright; A brown man oft deep read we see—a black a wicked wight. Most wealthy men good manners have, however vulgar they, And actors still the harder slave the oftener they play; So poets can’t the baize obtain unless their tailors choose, While grooms and coachmen not in vain each evening seek the mews. The dyer who by dying lives, a dire life maintains; The glazier, it is known, receives his profits from his panes; By gardeners thyme is tied, ’tis true, when Spring is in its prime, But time or tide won’t wait for you, if you are tied for time. There now you see, my little dears, the way to make a pun; A trick which you, through coming years, should sedulously shun. The fault admits of no defense, for wheresoe’er ’tis found, You sacrifice the sound for sense, the sense is never sound. So let your words and actions too, one single meaning prove, And, just in all you say or do, you’ll gain esteem and love: In mirth and play no harm you’ll know, when duty’s task is done; But parents ne’er should let you go un_pun_ished for a pun.

The motto of the Pilotage Commission of the river Tyne:—

In portu salus. In port you sail us.

SONNET

On a youth who died from a surfeit of fruit.

Currants have checked the current of my blood, And berries brought me to be buried here; Pears have pared off my body’s hardihood, And plums and plumbers spare not one so spare: Fain would I feign my fall; so fair a fare Lessens not fate, but ’tis a lesson good: Gilt will not long hide guilt; such thin-washed ware Wears quickly, and its rude touch soon is rued. Grave on my grave some sentence grave and terse, That lies not, as it lies upon my clay; But, in a gentle strain of unstrained verse, Prays all to pity a poor patty’s prey; Rehearses I was fruit-full to my hearse, Tells that my days are told, and soon I’m toll’d away!

Previous to the battle of Culloden, when Marshal Wade and Generals Cope and Hawley were prevented by the severity of the weather from advancing as far into Scotland as they intended, the following lines were circulated among their opposers:—

Cope could not cope, nor Wade wade through the snow, Nor Hawley haul his cannon to the foe.

When Mrs. Norton was called on to subscribe to a fund for the relief of Thomas Hood’s widow, which had been headed by Sir Robert Peel, she sent a liberal donation with these lines:—

To cheer the widow’s heart in her distress, To make provision for the fatherless, Is but a Christian’s duty, and none should Resist the heart-appeal of widow-Hood.

M. Mario’s visit to this country recalls to mind the sharpest witticism of Madame Grisi, at the time his wife, and one of the best bits of repartee on record. Louis Phillippe, passing through a room where Grisi stood, holding two of her young children by the hand, said gaily: “Ah! Madame, are those, then, some of your little Grisettes?” “No, Sire,” was the quick reply, perfect in every requirement of the pun, “No, Sire, these are my little Marionettes.”

A learned judge, of facetious memory, is reported to have said, in an argument in arrest of the judgment of death, “I think we had better let the subject drop.”

SWIFT’S LATIN PUNS.

Among the nugæ of Dean Swift are his celebrated Latin puns, some of which are well known, having been frequently copied, and having never been excelled. The following selections will serve as specimens. They consist entirely of Latin words; but, by allowing for false spelling, and running the words into each other, the sentences make good sense in English:—

Mollis abuti, (Moll is a beauty, Has an acuti, Has an acute eye, No lasso finis, No lass so fine is, Molli divinis. Molly divine is. Omi de armis tres, O my dear mistress, Imi na dis tres, I’m in a distress, Cantu disco ver Can’t you discover Meas alo ver? Me as a lover?)

In a subsequent epistolary allusion to this, he says:—

I ritu a verse o na molli o mi ne, Asta lassa me pole, a lædis o fine; I ne ver neu a niso ne at in mi ni is; A manat a glans ora sito fer diis. De armo lis abuti hos face an hos nos is, As fer a sal illi, as reddas aro sis; Ac is o mi molli is almi de lite; Illo verbi de, an illo verbi nite.

(I writ you a verse on a Molly o’ mine, As tall as a may pole, a lady so fine; I never knew any so neat in mine eyes; A man, at a glance or a sight of her, dies. Dear Molly’s a beauty, whose face and whose nose is As fair as a lily, as red as a rose is; A kiss o’ my Molly is all my delight; I love her by day, and I love her by night.)

Extract from the consultation of four physicians on a lord that was dying

1st Doctor. Is his honor sic? Præ lætus felis pulse. It do es beat veris loto de.

2d Doctor. No notis as qui cassi e ver fel tu metri it. Inde edit is as fastas an alarum, ora fire bellat nite.

3d Doctor. It is veri hei!

4th Doctor. Noto contra dictu in my juge mentitis veri loto de. It is as orto maladi, sum callet. [Here e ver id octo reti resto a par lori na mel an coli post ure.]

1st D. It is a me gri mas I opi ne.

2d D. No docto rite quit fora quin si. Heris a plane sim tomo fit. Sorites Paracelsus. Præ re adit.

1st D. Nono, Doctor, I ne ver quo te aqua casu do.

2d D. Sum arso; mi autoris no ne.

3d D. No quare lingat præ senti de si re. His honor is sic offa colli casure as I sit here.

4th D. It is æther an atro phi ora colli casu sed: Ire membri re ad it in Doctor me ades esse, here it is.

3d D. I ne ver re ad apage in it, no re ver in tendit.

2d D. Fer ne is offa qui te di ferent noti o nas i here.

1st D. It me bea pluri si; avo metis veri pro perfor a man at his age.

* * * * *

1st D. Is his honor sick? Pray let us feel his pulse. It does beat very slow to-day.

2d D. No, no, ’tis as quick as ever I felt; you may try it. Indeed, it is as fast as an alarum, or a fire-bell at night.

3d D. It is very high.

4th D. Not to contradict you, in my judgment it is very slow to day. It is a sort of malady, some call it. (Here every doctor retires to a parlor in a melancholy posture.)

1st D. It is a megrim, as I opine.

2d D. No, doctor, I take it for a quinsy. Here is a plain symptom of it. So writes Paracelsus. Pray read it.

1st D. No, no, doctor, I never quote a quack as you do.

2d D. Some are so; my author is none.

3d D. No quarrelling at present, I desire. His honor is sick of a colic as sure as I sit here.

4th D. It is either an atrophy, or a colic, as you said. I remember I read it in Dr. Mead’s Essay: here it is.

3d D. I never read a page in it, nor ever intend it.

2d D. Ferne is of a quite different notion, as I hear.

1st D. It may be a pleurisy; a vomit is very proper for a man at his age.

2d D. Ure par donat præsanti des ire; His dis eas is a cata ride clare it.

3d D. Atlas tume findit as tone in his quid ni es.

4th D. Itis ale pro si fora uti se. Ab lis ter me bene cessa risum de cens. Itis as ure medi in manicas es.

3d D. I findit isto late tot hinc offa reme di; fori here his honor is de ad.

2d D. His ti meis cum.

1st D. Is it trudo ut hinc?

4th D. It is veri certa in. His Paris his belli sto ringo ut foris de partu re.

3d D. Næ i fis ecce lens is de ad lætus en dum apri esto præ foris sole.

2d D. Your pardon at present I desire. His disease is a catarrh, I declare it.

3d D. At last you may find it a stone in his kidneys.

4th D. It is a leprosy for aught I see. A blister may be necessary some days hence. It is a sure remedy in many cases.

3d D. I find it is too late to think of a remedy; for I hear his honor is dead.

2d D. His time is come.

1st D. Is it true, do you think?

4th D. It is very certain. His parish bell is to ring out for his departure.

3d D. Nay, if his excellency’s dead, let us send ’em a priest to pray for his soul.

UNCONSCIOUS OR UNINTENTIONAL PUNS.

Elizabeth’s sylvan dress was therefore well suited at once to her height and to the dignity of her mein, which her conscious rank and long habits of authority had rendered in some degree too masculine to be seen to the best advantage in ordinary female weeds.—Kenilworth, iii. 9.

I’ll gild the faces of the grooms withal That it may seem their guilt.—Macbeth.

While underneath the eaves The brooding swallows cling, As if to show their sunny backs And twit me with the spring.—Song of the Shirt.

RUSSIAN DOUBLE ENTENDRE.

The following message was sent to the Emperor Nicholas by one of his generals:—

Voliā Vāschā, ā Varschāvoo vsi’at nemogoo.

{ Volia is yours, } } but Warsaw I cannot take. { Your will is all-powerful, }

CLASSICAL PUNS AND MOTTOES.

Sydney Smith proposed as a motto for Bishop Burgess, brother to the well-known fish-sauce purveyor, the following Virgilian pun (Æn. iv. 1),—

Gravi jamdudum saucia curâ.

A London tobacconist, who had become wealthy, and determined to set up his carriage, applied to a learned gentleman for a motto. The scholar gave him the Horatian question,—

QUID RIDES?

(Why do you laugh?—Sat. I. 69)—

which was accordingly adopted, and painted on the panel.

* * * * *

A pedantic bachelor had the following inscription on his tea-caddy:—

TU DOCES.

(Thou Tea-chest.)

Epitaph on a Cat, ascribed to Dr. Johnson (Hor. lib. i., c. 12):—

MI-CAT INTER OMNES.

Two gentlemen about to enter an unoccupied pew in a church, the foremost found it locked. His companion, not perceiving it at the moment, inquired why he retreated. “Pudor vetat” said he. (Modesty forbids.)

* * * * *

A gentleman at dinner requested a friend to help him to a potato, which he did, saying, “I think you will find that a good mealy one.” “Thank you,” quoth the other: “it could not be melior” (better).

* * * * *

A student of Latin, being confined to his room by illness, was called upon by a friend. “What, John,” said the visitor, “sick, eh?” “Yes,” replied John, “sic sum” (so I am).

* * * * *

In King’s College were two delinquents named respectively Payne and Culpepper. Payne was expelled, but Culpepper escaped punishment. Upon this, a wit wrote the following apt line:—

Pœna perire potest; _Culpa per_ennis est.

Andrew Borde, author of the Breviary of Health, called himself in Latin Andreas Perforatus. This translation of a proper name was according to the fashion of the time, but in this instance includes a pun,—perforatus, bored or pierced.

* * * * *

Joseph II., Emperor of Germany, during a visit to Rome, went to see the princess Santacroce, a young lady of singular beauty, who had an evening conversazione. Next morning appeared the following pasquinade. “Pasquin asks, ‘What is the Emperor Joseph come to Rome for?’ Marforio answers, ‘Abaciar la Santa Croce’”—to kiss the Holy Cross.

* * * * *

On the trial of Garnett, the Superior of the Jesuits, for his participation in the Gunpowder Plot, Coke, then Attorney-General, concluded his speech thus:—Qui cum Jesu itis, non itis cum Jesuitis.

* * * * *

A few years ago, several Jesuits came into the lecture-room of an Italian professor in the University of Pisa, believing he was about to assail a favorite dogma of theirs. He commenced his lecture with the following words,—

“Quanti Gesuiti sono all’ inferno!”

(How many Jesuits there are in hell!)

When remonstrated with, he said that his words were—

“Quanti—Gesu!—iti sono all’ inferno!”

(How many people, O Jesus! there are in hell!)

* * * * *

D’Israeli says that Bossuet would not join his young companions, and flew to his solitary tasks, while the classical boys avenged themselves by a schoolboy’s pun; applying to Bossuet Virgil’s bos suet-us aratro—the ox daily toiling in the plough.

* * * * *

John Randolph of Virginia, and Mr. Dana of Connecticut, while fellow-members of Congress, belonged to different political parties. On one occasion Mr. Dana paid some handsome compliments to Mr. Randolph. When the latter spoke in reply, he quoted from Virgil (Æn. ii.):—

Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.

A lady having accidentally thrown down a Cremona fiddle with her mantua, Dean Swift instantly remarked,—

“Mantua væ miseræ nimium vicina Cremonæ.”

Ah, Mantua, too near the wretched Cremona. (Virg. Ecl. ix. 28.)

* * * * *

To an old gentleman who had lost his spectacles one rainy evening, the Dean said, “If this rain continues all night, you will certainly recover them in the morning betimes:

“Nocte pluit tota—redeunt spectacula mane.” (Virgil.)

Quid facies facies veneris si veneris ante? Ne pereas pereas, ne sedeas, sedeas.

(What will you do if you shall come before the face of Venus? Lest you should perish through them, do not sit down, but go away.)

* * * * *

Sir William Dawes, Archbishop of York, was very fond of a pun. His clergy dining with him for the first time after he had lost his wife, he told them he feared they did not find things in so good order as they used to be in the time of poor Mary; and, looking extremely sorrowful, added with a deep sigh, “she was indeed mare pacificum.” A curate who knew pretty well what her temper had been, said, “Yes, my lord, but she was mare mortuum first.”

That Homer should a bankrupt be, Is not so very §ODD D’YE SEE§, If it be true as I’m instructed, So §ILL HE HAD§ his books conducted.

PUNNING MOTTOES OF THE ENGLISH PEERAGE.

Ne vile §Fano§—Disgrace not the altar. Motto of the §Fanes§.

§Ne vile§ velis—Form no mean wish. The §Nevilles§.

§Cavendo§ tutus—Secure by caution. The §Cavendishes§.

§Forte scu§tum, salus ducum—A strong shield the safety of leaders. Lord §Fortescue§.

§Ver non§ semper viret—The spring is not always green. Lord §Vernon§.

§Vero§ nihil verius—Nothing truer than truth. Lord §Vere§.

§Templa§ quam delecta—Temples how beloved. Lord §Temple§.

JEUX-DE-MOTS.

SPIRITUAL.

A wag decides—

That whiskey is the key by which many gain an entrance into our prisons and almshouses.

That brandy brands the noses of all who cannot govern their appetites.

That wine causes many a man to take a winding way home.

That punch is the cause of many unfriendly punches.

That ale causes many ailings, while beer brings many to the bier.

That champagne is the source of many a real pain.

That gin-slings have “slewed” more than the slings of old.

That the reputation of being fond of cock-tails is not a feather in any man’s cap.

That the money spent for port that is supplied by portly gents would support many a poor family.

That porter is a weak supporter for those who are weak in body.

ANAGRAMMATIC.

The following sentence is said to be taken from a volume of sermons published during the reign of James I.:—

This dial shows that we must die all; yet notwithstanding, all houses are turned into ale houses; our cares into cates; our paradise into a pair o’ dice; matrimony into a matter of money, and marriage into a merry age; our divines have become dry vines: it was not so in the days of Noah,—ah! no.

ITERATIVE.

A clerical gentleman of Hartford, who once attended the House of Representatives to read prayers, being politely requested to remain seated near the speaker during the debate, found himself the spectator of an unmarrying process, so alien to his own vocation, and so characteristic of the readiness of the Legislature of Connecticut to grant divorces, that the result was the following impromptu:—

For cut-ting all connect-ions famed, Connect-i-cut is fairly named; I twain connect in one, but you Cut those whom I connect in two. Each legislator seems to say, What you Connect I cut away.

Finn, the comedian, issued the following morceau upon the announcement of his benefit at the Tremont Theatre, Boston:—

Like a grate full of coals I burn, A great, full house to see; And if I should not grateful prove, A great fool I should be.

A FAIR LETTER.

The following letter was received by a young lady at the post-office of a Fair held for the benefit of a church:—

Fairest of the Fair. When such fair beings as you have the fair-ness to honor our Fair with your fair presence, it is perfectly fair that you should receive good fare from the fair conductors of this Fair, and indeed it would be very un-fair if you should not fare well, since it is the endeavor of those whose wel-fare depends upon the success of this Fair, to treat all who come fair-ly, but to treat with especial fair-ness those who are as fair as yourself. We are engaged in a fair cause, a sacred war-fare; that is, to speak without un-fair-ness, a war-fare, not against the fair sex, but against the pockets of their beaux. We therefore hope, gentle reader, “still _fair_est found where all is fair,” that you will use all fair exertions in behalf of the praiseworthy af-fair which we have fair-ly undertaken. If you take sufficient interest in our wel-fare to lend your fair aid, you will appear fair-er than ever in our sight; we will never treat you un-fair-ly, and when you withdraw the light of your fair countenance from our Fair, we will bid you a kind Fare-well.

The following was written on the occasion of a duel in Philadelphia, several years ago:—

Schott and Willing did engage In duel fierce and hot; Schott shot Willing willingly, And Willing he shot Schott.

The shot Schott shot made Willing quite A spectacle to see; While Willing’s willing shot went right Through Schott’s anatomy.

WRITE WRITTEN RIGHT.

Write we know is written right, When we see it written write; But when we see it written wright, We know it is not written right: For write, to have it written right, Must not be written right or wright, Nor yet should it be written rite; But write, for so ’tis written right.

TURN TO THE LEFT AS THE (ENGLISH) LAW DIRECTS.

The laws of the Road are a paradox quite: For when you are travelling along, If you keep to the §LEFT§ you’re sure to be §RIGHT§, If you keep to the §RIGHT§ you’ll be §WRONG§.

I cannot bear to see a bear, bear down upon a hare, When bare of hair he strips the hare, for hare I cry, “forbear!”

ON THE DEATH OF THE EARL OF KILDARE.

Who killed Kildare? Who dared Kildare to kill?

Death answers,—

I killed Kildare, and dare kill whom I will.

§A§ Cat§ALECTIC MONODY§.

A cat I sing of famous memory, Though _cat_achrestical my song may be: In a small garden _cat_acomb she lies, And _cat_aclysms fill her comrades’ eyes; Borne on the air, the _cat_acoustic song Swells with her virtues’ _cat_alogue along; No _cat_aplasm could lengthen out her years, Though mourning friends shed _cat_aracts of tears. Once loud and strong her _cat_echist-like voice. It dwindled to a _cat_call’s squeaking noise; Most _cat_egorical her virtues shone, By _cat_enation joined each one to one;— But a vile _cat_chpoll dog, with cruel bite, Like _cat_ling’s cut, her strength disabled quite; Her _cat_erwauling pierced the heavy air, As _cat_aphracts their arms through legions bear; ’Tis vain! as _cat_erpillars drag away Their lengths, like _cat_tle after busy day, She lingering died, nor left in kit kat the Embodiment of this _cat_astrophe.

NOVEMBER.

(The humorous lines of Hood are only applicable to the English climate, where the closing month of autumn is synonymous with fogs, long visages, and suicides.)

No sun—no moon! No morn—no noon— No dawn—no dusk—no proper time of day— No sky—no earthly view— No distance looking blue— No roads—no streets—no t’other side the way— No end to any row— No indication where the crescents go— No tops to any steeple— No recognition of familiar people— No courtesies for showing ’em— No knowing ’em— No travellers at all—no locomotion— No inkling of the way—no motion— ‘No go’ by land or ocean— No mail—no post— No news from any foreign coast— No park—no ring—no afternoon gentility— No company—no nobility— No warmth—no cheerfulness—no healthful ease— No comfortable feel in any member— No shade—no shine—no butterflies—no bees— No fruits—no flowers—no leaves—no birds— §No-vember§!

* * * * *

The name of that monster of brutality, Caliban, in Shakspeare’s Tempest, is supposed to be anagrammatic of Canibal, the old mode of spelling Cannibal.

A SWARM OF BEES.

B patient, B prayerful, B humble, B mild, B wise as a Solon, B meek as a child; B studious, B thoughtful, B loving, B kind; B sure you make matter subservient to mind. B cautious, B prudent, B trustful, B true, B courteous to all men, B friendly with few. B temperate in argument, pleasure, and wine, B careful of conduct, of money, of time. B cheerful, B grateful, B hopeful, B firm, B peaceful, _be_nevolent, willing to learn; B courageous, B gentle, B liberal, B just, B aspiring, B humble, _be_cause thou art dust; B penitent, circumspect, sound in the faith, B active, devoted; B faithful till death. B honest, B holy, transparent, and pure; B dependent, B Christ-like, and you’ll B secure.

THE BEES OF THE BIBLE.

Be kindly affectioned one to another. Be sober, and watch unto prayer. Be content with such things as ye have. Be strong in the Lord. Be courteous. Be not wise in your own conceits. Be not forgetful to entertain strangers. Be not children in understanding. Be followers of God, as dear children. Be not weary in well-doing. Be holy in all manner of conversation. Be patient unto the coming of the Lord. Be clothed with humility.

FRANKLIN’S “RE’S.”

Dr. Franklin, in England in the year 1775, was asked by a nobleman what would satisfy the Americans. He answered that it might easily be comprised in a few “Re’s,” which he immediately wrote on a piece of paper, thus:—

Re-call your forces. Re-store Castle William. Re-pair the damage done to Boston. Re-peal your unconstitutional acts. Re-nounce your pretensions to taxes. Re-fund the duties you have extorted.

After this—

Re-quire, and Re-ceive payment for the destroyed tea, with the voluntary grants of the Colonies; and then Re-joice in a happy Re-conciliation.

THE MISS-NOMERS.

After the manner of Horace Smith’s “Surnames ever go by contraries.”

Miss Brown is exceedingly fair, Miss White is as brown as a berry; Miss Black has a gray head of hair, Miss Graves is a flirt ever merry; Miss Lightbody weighs sixteen stone, Miss Rich scarce can muster a guinea; Miss Hare wears a wig, and has none, And Miss Solomon is a sad ninny!

Miss Mildmay’s a terrible scold, Miss Dove’s ever cross and contrary; Miss Young is now grown very old, And Miss Heavyside’s light as a fairy! Miss Short is at least five feet ten, Miss Noble’s of humble extraction; Miss Love has a hatred towards men, Whilst Miss Still is forever in action.

Miss Green is a regular blue, Miss Scarlet looks pale as a lily; Miss Violet ne’er shrinks from our view, And Miss Wiseman thinks all the men silly! Miss Goodchild’s a naughty young elf, Miss Lyon’s from terror a fool; Miss Mee’s not at all like myself, Miss Carpenter no one can rule.

Miss Sadler ne’er mounted a horse, While Miss Groom from the stable will run; Miss Kilmore can’t look on a corse, And Miss Aimwell ne’er levelled a gun; Miss Greathead has no brains at all, Miss Heartwell is ever complaining; Miss Dance has ne’er been at a ball, Over hearts Miss Fairweather likes reigning!

Miss Wright, she is constantly wrong, Miss Tickell, alas! is not funny; Miss Singer ne’er warbled a song, And alas! poor Miss Cash has no money; Miss Hateman would give all she’s worth, To purchase a man to her liking; Miss Merry is shocked at all mirth, Miss Boxer the men don’t find striking!

Miss Bliss does with sorrow o’erflow, Miss Hope in despair seeks the tomb; Miss Joy still anticipates wo, And Miss Charity’s never “at home!” Miss Hamlet resides in the city, The nerves of Miss Standfast are shaken; Miss Prettyman’s beau is not pretty, And Miss Faithful her love has forsaken!

Miss Porter despises all froth, Miss Scales they’ll make wait, I am thinking; Miss Meekly is apt to be wroth, Miss Lofty to meanness is sinking; Miss Seymore’s as blind as a bat, Miss Last at a party is first; Miss Brindle dislikes a striped cat, And Miss Waters has always a thirst!

Miss Knight is now changed into Day, Miss Day wants to marry a Knight; Miss Prudence has just run away, And Miss Steady assisted her flight; But success to the fair,—one and all! No miss-apprehensions be making;— Though wrong the dear sex to miss-call, There’s no harm, I should hope, in §MISS-TAKING§.

CROOKED COINCIDENCES.

A pamphlet published in the year 1703 has the following strange title: “The Deformity of Sin cured; a Sermon preached at St. Michael’s, Crooked-lane, before the Prince of Orange, by the Rev. J. Crookshanks. Sold by Matthew Denton, at the Crooked Billet near Cripple-gate, and by all other booksellers.” The words of the text are, “Every crooked path shall be made straight;” and the prince before whom it was preached was deformed in person.

THE COURT-FOOL’S PUN ON ARCHBISHOP LAUD.

Great praise to God, and little Laud to the devil.

English Words and Forms of Expression.

Dictionary English is something very different not only from common colloquial English, but even from that of ordinary written composition. Instead of about forty thousand words, there is probably no single author in the language from whose works, however voluminous, so many as ten thousand words could be collected. Of the forty thousand words there are certainly many more than one-half that are only employed, if they are ever employed at all, on the rarest occasions. We should be surprised to find, if we counted them, with how small a number of words we manage to express all that we have to say, either with our lips or with the pen. Our common literary English probably hardly amounts to ten thousand words; our common spoken English hardly to five thousand.

Odd words are to be found in the dictionaries. Why they are kept there no one knows; but what man in his senses would use such words as zythepsary for a brewhouse, and zymologist for a brewer; would talk of a stormy day as procellous and himself as madefied; of his long-legged son as increasing in procerity but sadly marcid; of having met with such procacity from such a one; of a bore as a macrologist; of an aged horse as macrobiotic; of important business as moliminous, and his daughter’s necklace as moniliform; of some one’s talk as meracious, and lament his last night’s nimiety of wine at that dapatical feast, whence he was taken by ereption? Open the dictionary at any page, and you will find a host of these words.

By a too ready adoption of foreign words into the currency of the English language, we are in danger of losing much of its radical strength and historical significance. Marsh has compared the parable of the man who built his house upon the sand, as given by Matthew and Luke. Matthew uses the plain Saxon English. The learned Evangelist, Luke, employed a Latinized dictionary. “Now,” he says, “compare the two passages and say which to every English ear, is the most impressive:”

“And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.”—Matthew.

“Against which the stream did beat vehemently, and immediately it fell; and the ruin of that house was great.”—Luke.

There can scarcely be a difference of opinion as to the relative force and beauty of the two versions, and consequently we find, that while that of Matthew has become proverbial, the narrative of Luke is seldom or never quoted.

Trench says that the Anglo-Saxon is not so much one element of the English language, as the foundation of it—the basis. All its joints, its whole articulation, its sinews and its ligaments, the great body of articles, pronouns, conjunctions, prepositions, numerals, auxiliary verbs, all smaller words which serve to knit together and bind the larger into sentences, these—not to speak of the grammatical structure of the language—are exclusively Saxon. The Latin may contribute its tale of bricks, yea, of goodly and polished hewn stones to the spiritual building, but the mortar, with all that holds and binds these together, and constitutes them into a house, is Saxon throughout. As proof positive of the soundness of the above affirmation, the test is submitted that—“you can write a sentence without Latin, but you cannot without Saxon.” The words of the Lord’s Prayer are almost all Saxon. Our good old family Bible is a capital standard of it, and has done more than any other book for the conservation of the purity of our language. Our best writers, particularly those of Queen Anne’s time,—Addison, Steele, Swift, &c.,—were distinguished by their use of simple Saxon.

SOURCES OF THE LANGUAGE.

Some years ago, a gentleman, after carefully examining the folio edition of Johnson’s Dictionary, formed the following table of English words derived from other languages:—

Latin 6,732 French 4,812 Saxon 1,665 Greek 1,148 Dutch 691 Italian 211 German 116 Welsh 95 Danish 75 Spanish 56 Icelandic 50 Swedish 34 Gothic 31 Hebrew 16 Teutonic 15 Arabic 13 Irish 6 Runic 4 Flemish 4 Erse 4 Syriac 3 Scottish 3 Irish and Erse 2 Turkish 2 Irish and Scottish 1 Portuguese 1 Persian 1 Frisi 1 Persic 1 Uncertain 1 ——— Total 15,784

NOUNS OF MULTITUDE.

A foreigner looking at a picture of a number of vessels, said, “See what a flock of ships.” He was told that a flock of ships was called a fleet, and that a fleet of sheep was called a flock. And it was added, for his guidance, in mastering the intricacies of our language, that a flock of girls is called a bevy, that a bevy of wolves is called a pack, and a pack of thieves is called a gang, and that a gang of angels is called a host, and that a host of porpoises is called a shoal, and a shoal of buffaloes is called a herd, and a herd of children is called a troop, and a troop of partridges is called a covey, and a covey of beauties is called a galaxy, and a galaxy of ruffians is called a horde, and a horde of rubbish is called a heap, and a heap of oxen is called a drove, and a drove of blackguards is called a mob, and a mob of whales is called a school, and a school of worshippers is called a congregation, and a congregation of engineers is called a corps, and a corps of robbers is called a band, and a band of locusts is called a swarm, and a swarm of people is called a crowd.

DISRAELIAN ENGLISH.

Mr. Disraeli gives us some queer English in his novel of Lothair, as may be seen in the following examples:—“He guarded over Lothair’s vast inheritance;” “Lothair observed on” a lady’s singing; “of simple but distinguished mien, with a countenance naturally pale, though somewhat bronzed by a life of air and exercise, and a profusion of dark, auburn hair;” “he engaged a vehicle and ordered to be driven to Leicester Square;” “he pointed to an individual seated in the centre of the table;” “their mutual ancestors;” “Is there anything in the Tenebræ why I ought not to be present?”; “thoughts which made him unconscious how long had elapsed;” “with no companions than the wounded near them;” “The surgeon was sitting by her side, occasionally wiping the slight foam from her brow.” We have heard of people foaming at the mouth, but never before of a lady foaming at the brow.

“YE” FOR “THE.”

Ye is sometimes used for the in old books wherein the is the more usual form, on account of the difficulties experienced by the printers in “spacing out.” When pressed for room they put ye; when they had plenty of room they put the. Many people in reading old books pronounce the abbreviation ye. But the proper pronunciation is the, for the y is only a corruption of the old thorn-letter, or symbol for th.

ITS.

His is the genitive (or as we say, possessive) of he, (he’s,—his,) and it or hit, as it was long written, is the neuter of he, the final t being the sign of the neuter. The introduction of its, as the neuter genitive instead of his, arose from a misconception, similar to that which would have arisen had the Romans introduced illudius as the neuter genitive of ille, instead of illius. Its very rarely occurs in our authorized version of the Bible, his or her being used instead—occurs but a few times in all Shakspeare—was unknown to Ben Jonson—was not admitted into his poems by Milton—and did not come into common use until sanctioned by Dryden.

THAT.

The use of the word That in the following examples is strictly in accordance with grammatical rules:—

The gentleman said, in speaking of the word that, that that that that that lady parsed, was not that that that that gentleman requested her to analyze.

Now, that is a word that may often be joined, For that that may be doubled is clear to the mind; And that that that is right, is as plain to the view, As that that that that we use, is rightly used too, And that that that that that line has in it, is right— In accordance with grammar—is plain in our sight.

I SAY.

A gentleman who was in the habit of interlarding his discourse with the expression “I say,” having been informed by a friend that a certain individual had made some ill-natured remarks upon this peculiarity, took the opportunity of addressing him in the following amusing style of rebuke:—“I say, sir, I hear say you say I say ‘I say’ at every word I say. Now, sir, although I know I say ‘I say’ at every word I say, still I say, sir, it is not for you to say I say ‘I say’ at every word I say.”

PATH-OLOGY.

There once resided in Ayrshire a man who, like Leman, proposed to write an Etymological Dictionary of the English language. Being asked what he understood the word pathology to mean, he answered, with great readiness and confidence, “Why, the art of road-making, to be sure.”

THE PRONUNCIATION OF OUGH.

The difficulty of applying rules to the pronunciation of our language may be illustrated in two lines, where the combination of the letters ough is pronounced in no less than seven different ways, viz.: as o, uff, off, up, ow, oo, and ock:—

§Though§ the §TOUGH COUGH§ and §HICCOUGH PLOUGH§ me §THROUGH§, O’er life’s dark §LOUGH§ my course I still pursue.

The following attempts to show the sound of ough, final, are ingenious:—

Though from rough cough or hiccough free, That man has pain enough Whose wounds through plough, sunk in a slough, Or lough begin to slough.

’Tis not an easy task to show, How o, u, g, h, sound; since though, An Irish lough, an English slough, And cough, and hiccough, all allow Differ as much as tough and through, There seems no reason why they do.

“Husband,” says Joan, “’tis plain enough That Roger loves our daughter; And Betty loves him too, although She treats his suit with laughter.

“For Roger always hems and coughs, While on the field he’s ploughing; Then strives to see between the boughs, If Betty heeds his coughing.”

The following jeu d’esprit, entitled “A Literary Squabble on the pronunciation of Monckton Milnes’s Title,” is stated to have been the production of Lord Palmerston:—

The Alphabet rejoiced to hear, That Monckton Milnes was made a peer; For in the present world of letters, But few, if any, were his betters. So an address, by acclamation, They voted, of congratulation. And O U G H T and N Were chosen to take up the pen, Possessing each an interest vital In the new Peer’s baronial title. ’Twas done in language terse and telling, Perfect in grammar and in spelling. But when ’twas read aloud—oh, mercy! There sprung up such a controversy About the true pronunciation Of said baronial appellation. The vowels O and U averred They were entitled to be heard. The consonants denied the claim, Insisting that they mute became. Johnson and Walker were applied to, Sheridan, Bailey, Webster, tried too; But all in vain—for each picked out A word that left the case in doubt. O, looking round upon them all, Cried, “If it be correct to call T H R O U G H throo, H O U G H must be Hoo; Therefore there must be no dispute on The question, we should say Lord Hooton.” U then did speak, and sought to show He should be doubled, and not O, For sure if ought and awt, then nought on Earth could the title be but Hawton. H, on the other hand, said he, In cough and trough, stood next to G, And like an F was then looked oft on, Which made him think it should be Hofton. But G corrected H, and drew Attention other cases to: Lough, Rough and Chough, more than enough To prove O U G H spelled uff, And growled out in a sort of gruff tone They must pronounce the title Hufton. N said emphatically No; For D O U G H is Doh, And though (look there again) that stuff At sea for fun, they nickname Duff, He should propose they took a vote on The question should it not be Hoton? Besides, in French ’twould have such force, A Lord must be haut ton, of course. High and more high contention rose, From words they almost came to blows, Till S, as yet, who had not spoke, And dearly loved a little joke, Put in his word, and said, “Look here, Plough in this row must have a share.” At this atrocious pun, each page Of Johnson whiter grew with rage. Bailey looked desperately cut up, And Sheridan completely shut up. Webster, who is no idle talker, Made a sign signifying Walker. While Walker, who had been used badly, Shook his old dirty dog-ears sadly. But as we find in prose or rhyme, A joke, made happily in time, However poor, will often tend The hottest argument to end, And smother anger in a laugh, So S succeeded with his chaff, Containing, as it did, some wheat, In calming this fierce verbal heat. Authorities were all conflicting, And S there was no contradicting. P L O U G H was Plow Even enough was called enow, And no one who preferred enough Would dream of saying “Speed the Pluff.” So they considered it was wise With S to make a compromise, To leave no loop to hang a doubt on By giving three cheers for Lord Houghton (Howton).

EXCISE.

The following curious document gives the opinion of Lord Mansfield, when Attorney-General, upon Dr. Johnson’s definition of the word Excise:—

Case.

Mr. Samuel Johnson has lately published a book, entitled A Dictionary of the English Language, in which the words are deduced from their originals, and illustrated in their different significations by examples from the best writers. To which are prefixed a history of the Language, and an English grammar.

Under the title “Excise” are the following words:—

Excise, n. s. (accijs Dutch; excisum, Latin,) a hateful tax levied upon commodities and adjudged not by the common judges of property, but wretches hired by those to whom Excise is paid.

The people should pay a ratable tax for their sheep, and an Excise for every thing which they should eat.—§Hayward.§

Ambitious now to take excise Of a more fragrant paradise.—§Cleveland.§

EXCISE.

With hundred rows of teeth the shark exceeds, And on all trades, like Cassowar, she feeds.—§Marvel.§

Can hire large houses and oppress the poor By farmed Excise.—§Dryden§, Juvenal, Sat. 3.

The author’s definition being observed by the Commissioners of Excise, they desire the favor of your opinion:

Qu.—Whether it will not be considered as a libel; and, if so, whether it is not proper to proceed against the author, printers, and publishers thereof, or any and which of them, by information or how otherwise?

Opinion.

I am of opinion that it is a libel; but, under all the circumstances, I should think it better to give him an opportunity of altering his definition; and, in case he don’t, threaten him with an information.

§W. Murray.§

29th Nov. 1755.

PONTIFF.

Mr. Longfellow, in his Golden Legend, thus refers to the derivation of this word from pons (a bridge) and facere (to make):—

Well has the name of Pontifex been given Unto the Church’s head, as the chief builder And architect of the invisible bridge That leads from earth to heaven.

ROUGH.

Mr. Motley, in his History of the United Netherlands, IV. 138, thus ascribes the use of this word to Queen Elizabeth, of England, in her last illness:—

The great queen, moody, despairing, dying, wrapt in profoundest thought, with eyes fixed upon the ground or already gazing into infinity was besought by the counsellors around her to name the man to whom she chose that the crown should devolve.

“Not to a Rough,” said Elizabeth, sententiously and grimly.

These particulars are apparently given on the authority of the Italian Secretary, Scaramelli, whose language is quoted in a foot-note, and who says that the word Rough “in lingua inglese significa persona bassa e vile.”

Charles Dickens said, “I entertain so strong an objection to the euphonious softening of ruffian into rough, which has lately become popular, that I restore the right word to the heading of this paper.” (The Ruffian, by the Uncommercial Traveler, All the Year Round.) “Lately popular” does not mean popular for two hundred and eighty years past. A word that has escaped the notice of the Glossarists cannot have been in use early in the seventeenth century. That it should have been used in its modern sense by Queen Elizabeth, passes all bounds of belief. With all her faults she did not make silly unmeaning remarks; and it would have been extremely silly in her to say she did not wish a low ruffian to succeed her on the throne. If she uttered a word having the same sound, it might possibly have been ruff. The “ruff,” though worn by men of the upper class, was in Queen Elizabeth’s time an especially female article of dress, and the queen might have said, “I will have no ruff to succeed me,” just as now-a-days one might say, “I will have no petticoat government.” We want better authority than that of Scaramelli before we can believe that Elizabeth used either the word rough or ruff, when consulted as to her wishes respecting her successor.

NOT AMERICANISMS.

In Bartlett’s Dictionary the term “stocking-feet” is given as an Americanism. But the following quotation from Thackeray’s Newcomes (vol. i. ch. viii.) shows that this is an error:—

“Binnie found the Colonel in his sitting-room arrayed in what are called in Scotland his stocking-feet.”

Professor Tyndall, at the farewell banquet given in his honor by the citizens of New York, prior to his departure, in referring to his successful lecture-course in the United States, said he had had—to quote his words—“what you Americans call ‘a good time.’”

But this expression is not an Americanism. It is used by Dean Swift in his letter to Stella, (Feb. 24, 1710–11); “I hope Mrs. Wells had a good time.”

That not very elegant adjective bully, though found in Bartlett, and used by Washington Irving cannot be claimed as an Americanism. Friar Tuck sings, in Scott’s Ivanhoe:—

“Come troll the brown bowl to me, bully boy, Come troll the brown bowl to me.”

But to go further back, we find it in the burden of an old three-part song, “We be three poor Mariners,” in Ravenscroft’s Deuteromelia, 1609:

“Shall we go dance the round, the round, Shall we go dance the round; And he that is a bully boy, Come pledge me on the ground.”

One of the words which the English used to class among Americanisms—ignorant that it was older and better English than their own usage—was Fall, used as the name of the third of the seasons. The English, corrupted by the Johnsonese of the Hanoverian reigns, call it by the Latinism, Autumn. But the other term, in general use on this side of the Atlantic, is the word by which all the old writers of the language know it. “The hole yere,” says scholarly Roger Ascham in his Toxophilus, “is divided into iiii. partes, Spring tyme, Sommer, Faule of the leafe, & Winter, whereof the hole winter for the roughnesse of it, is cleane taken away from shoting: except it be one day amonges xx., or one yeare amonges xi.”

This statement, by the way, that exceptionally mild winters were in the ratio of one to eleven, is worth noting with reference to the recent announcement of science that the spots on the sun have an eleven-year period of maximum frequency.

NO LOVE LOST BETWEEN THEM.

In the ordinary acceptation of the words, “No love was lost between the two,” we are led to infer that the two were on very unfriendly terms. But in the ballad of The Babes in the Wood, as given in Percy’s Reliques, occur the following lines, which convey the contrary idea:—

No love between this two was lost, Each was to other kind: In love they lived, in love they died, And left two babes behind.

THE FORLORN HOPE.

Military and civil writers of the present day seem quite ignorant of the true meaning of the words forlorn hope. The adjective has nothing to do with despair, nor the substantive with the “charmer which lingers still behind;” there was no such poetical depth in the words as originally used. Every corps marching in an enemy’s country had a small body of men at the head (haupt or hope) of the advanced guard; and which was termed the forlorne hope (lorn being here but a termination similar to ward in forward,) while another small body at the head of the read-guard was called the rere-lorn hope. A reference to Johnson’s Dictionary shows that civilians were misled as early as the time of Dryden by the mere sound of a technical military phrase; and, in process of time, even military men forgot the true meaning of the words. And thus we easily trace the foundation of an error to which we are indebted for Byron’s beautiful line:—

The full of hope, misnamed forlorn.

QUIZ.

This word, which is only in vulgar or colloquial use, and which some of the lexicographers have attempted to trace to learned roots, originated in a joke. Daly, the manager of a Dublin play-house, wagered that a word of no meaning should be the common talk and puzzle of the city in twenty-four hours. In the course of that time the letters q u i z were chalked on all the walls of Dublin with an effect that won the wager.

TENNYSON’S ENGLISH.

Probably no poet ever more thoroughly comprehended the value of words in metrical composition than Mr. Tennyson, but he has issued a new coinage which is not pure. Compound epithets are modelled after the Greek or revived from the uncritical Elizabethan era. Thus, where we should naturally say “The bee is cradled in the lily,” Mr. Tennyson writes, “The bee is lily-cradled.” When a man’s nose is broken at the bridge or a lady’s turns up at the tip, the one is said to be “a nose bridge-broken,” and the other (with much gallantry) to be “tip-tilted, like the petal of a flower.”

The movement of the metre again is very peculiar. Discarding Milton’s long and complex periods, Mr. Tennyson has restored blank verse to an apparently simple rhythm. But this simplicity is in fact the result of artifice, and, under every variety of movement, the ear detects the recurrence of a set type. One of the poet’s favorite devices is to pause on a monosyllable at the beginning of a line, and this affect is repeated so often as to remind the reader of Euripides and his unhappy “oil flask” in The Frogs. Take the following instances:—

And the strange sound of an adulterous race, Against the iron grating of her cell Beat.

A sound As of a silver horn across the hills Blown. And then the music faded, and the Grail Passed. His eyes became so like her own they seemed Hers.

“THAT MINE ADVERSARY HAD WRITTEN A BOOK.”

This passage from Job xxxi. 35, is frequently misapplied, being interpreted as if it had reference to a book or writing as commonly understood. It means rather, according to Gesenius, a charge or accusation. Pierius makes it “libellum accusationis,” and Grotius, “scriptam accusationem” Scott expresses this in his Commentary:—

“Job challenged his adversary, or accuser, to produce a libel or written indictment against him: he was confident that it would prove no disgrace to him, but an honor; as every article would be disproved, and the reverse be manifested.”

Other commentators understand it as meaning a record of Job’s life, or of his sufferings. Coverdale translates:—“And let him that my contrary party sue me with a lybell.” In the Genevan version it is, “Though mine adversarie should write a book against me.” In the Bishop’s Bible, 1595, “Though mine adversarie write a book against me.” The meaning seems to have become obscured in our version by retaining the English book instead of the Latin libel, but omitting the words in italics, “against me.”

ECCENTRIC ETYMOLOGIES.

To trace the changes of form and meaning which many of the words of our language have undergone is no easy task. There are words as current with us as with our forefathers, the significance of which, as we use them, is very different from that of their primitive use. And, in many instances, they have wandered, by courses more or less tortuous, so far from their original meaning as to make it almost impossible to follow the track of divergence. Hence, it is easy to understand why it has been said that the etymologist, to be successful, must have “an instinct like the special capabilities of the pointer.” But there are derivations which are only revealed by accident, or stumbled upon in unexpected ways, and which, in the regular course of patient search, would never have been elicited. The following illustrative selections will interest the general reader.

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Bombastic.—This adjective has an odd derivation. Originally bombast (from the Latin bombax, cotton) meant nothing but cotton wadding, used for filling or stuffing. Shakspeare employs it in this sense in Love’s Labor Lost, v. 2.

As bombast and as living to the time.

Decker, in his Satyromastix, says, “You shall swear not to bombast out a new play with the old linings of jests.” And Guazzo, Civile Conversation, 1591,—“Studie should rather make him leane and thinne, and pull out the bombast of his corpulent doublet.”

Hence, by easy transition from the falseness of padding or puffing out a figure, bombast came to signify swelling pretentiousness of speech and conduct as an adapted meaning; and gradually this became the primary and only sense.

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Buxom.—This word is simply bow-some or bough-some, i.e., that which readily bows, or bends, or yields like the boughs of a tree. No longer ago than when Milton wrote boughsome, which as gh in English began to lose its guttural sound,—that of the letter chi in Greek,—came to be written buxom, meant simply yielding, and was of general application.

——“and, this once known, shall soon return, And bring ye to the place where thou and Death Shall dwell at ease, and up and down unseen Wing silently the buxom air.”—Paradise Lost, II. 840.

But aided, doubtless, as Dr. Johnson suggests, by a too liberal construction of the bride’s promise in the old English marriage ceremony, to be “obedient and buxom in bed and board,” it came to be applied to women who were erroneously thought likely to be thus yielding; and hence it now means plump, rosy, alluring, and is applied only to women who combine those qualities of figure, face and expression.

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Cadaver.—An abbot of Cirencester, about 1216, conceived himself an etymologist, and, as a specimen of his powers, has left us the Latin word cadaver, a corpse, thus dissected:—“Ca,” quoth he, is abbreviated for caro; “da” for data; “ver” for vermibus. Hence we have “caro data vermibus,” flesh given to the worms.

Yet while the reader smiles at this curious absurdity, it is worth while to note that the word alms is constructed upon a similar principle, being formed (according to the best authority) of letters, taken from successive syllables of the cumbrous Latinized Greek word eleemosyna.

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Canard.—This is the French for duck, and the origin of its application to hoaxing is said to be as follows:—To ridicule a growing extravagance in story-telling a clever journalist stated that an interesting experiment had just been made, calculated to prove the extraordinary voracity of ducks. Twenty of these animals had been placed together, and one of them having been killed and cut up into the smallest possible pieces, feathers and all, and thrown to the other nineteen, had been gluttonously gobbled up in an exceedingly brief space of time. Another was taken from the remaining nineteen, and being chopped small like its predecessor, was served up to the eighteen, and at once devoured like the other; and so on to the last, which was thus placed in the remarkable position of having eaten his nineteen companions in a wonderfully short space of time! All this, most pleasantly narrated, obtained a success which the writer was far from anticipating, for the story ran the rounds of all the journals in Europe. It then became almost forgotten for about a score of years, when it came back from America, with an amplification which it did not boast of at the commencement, and with a regular certificate of the autopsy of the body of the surviving animal, whose esophagus was declared to have been seriously injured! Since then fabrications of this character have been called canards.

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Chum.—A schoolboy’s letter, written two centuries ago, has lately revealed that chum is a contraction from “chamber-fellow.” Two students dwelling together found the word unwieldly, and, led by another universal law of language, they shortened it in the most obvious way.

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Dandy.—Bishop Fleetwood says that “dandy” is derived from a silver coin of small value, circulated in the reign of Henry VIII., and called a “dandy-prat.”

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Dunce.—This word comes to us from the celebrated Duns Scotus, chief of the Schoolmen of his time. He was “the subtle doctor by preëminence;” and it certainly is a strange perversion that a scholar of his great ability should give name to a class who hate all scholarship. When at the Reformation and revival of learning the works of the Schoolmen fell into extreme disfavor with the Reformers and the votaries of the new learning, Duns, the standard-bearer of the former, was so often referred to with scorn and contempt by the latter that his name gradually became the by-word it now is for hopeless ignorance and invincible stupidity. The errors and follies of a set were fastened upon their distinguished head. Says Tyndale, 1575,—

“Remember ye not how within this thirty years, and far less, and yet dureth unto this day, the old barking curs, Dunce’s disciples, and like draff called Scotists, the children of darkness, raged in every pulpit against Greek, Latin and Hebrew?”

* * * * *

Eating humble-pie.—The phrase “eating humble-pie” is traced to the obsolete French word “ombles,” entrails; pies for the household servants being formerly made of the entrails of animals. Hence, to take low or humble ground, to submit one’s self, came familiarly to be called eating “humble” or rather “umble” pie. The word “umbles” came to us from the Norman conquest, and though now obsolete, retains its place in the lexicons of Worcester and Webster, who, however, explain the entrails to be those of the deer only.

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Fiasco.—A German, one day, seeing a glassblower at his occupation, thought nothing could be easier than glassblowing, and that he could soon learn to blow as well as the workman. He accordingly commenced operations by blowing vigorously, but could only produce a sort of pear-shaped balloon or little flask (fiasco). The second attempt had a similar result, and so on, until fiasco after fiasco had been made. Hence arose the expression which we not infrequently have occasion to use when describing the result of our undertakings.

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Fudge.—This is a curious word, having a positive personality underlying it. Such at least it is, if Disraeli’s account thereof be authentic. He quotes from a very old pamphlet entitled Remarks upon the Navy, wherein the author says, “There was in our time one Captain Fudge, commander of a merchantman, who upon his return from a voyage, how ill fraught soever his ship was, always brought home his owners a good crop of lies; so much that now, aboard ship, the sailors when they hear a great lie told, cry out, ‘You fudge it’.” The ship was the Black Eagle, and the time, Charles II.; and thence the monosyllabic name of its untruthful captain comes to us for exclamation when we have reason to believe assertions ill-founded.

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Gossip.—This is another of that class of words which by the system of moral decadence that Trench has so ably illustrated as influencing human language, has come to be a term of unpleasant reproach. In some parts of the country, by the “gossips” of a child are meant his god-parents, who take vows for him at his baptism. The connection between these two actual uses of the word is not so far to seek as one might suppose. Chaucer shows us that those who stood sponsors for an infant were considered “sib,” or kin, to each other in God: thus the double syllables were compounded. Verstigan says:—

“Our Christian ancestors understanding a spirituall affinitie for to grow between the parents, and such as undertooke for the childe at baptisme, called each other by the name of God-sib, which is as much as to say as that they were sib together, i.e. of kin together, through God.”

The Roman church forbids marriage between persons so united in a common vow, as she believes they have contracted an essential spiritual relationship. But from their affinity in the interests of the child they were brought into much converse with one another; and as much talk almost always degenerates into idle talk, and personalities concerning one’s neighbors, and the like, so “gossips” finally came to signify the latter, when the former use of it was nearly forgotten. It is remarkable that the French “commérage” has passed through identically the same perversion.

* * * * *

Grog.—Admiral Vernon, whose ardent devotion to his profession had endeared him to the British naval service, was in the habit of walking the deck, in bad weather, in a rough grogram cloak, and thence had obtained the nickname of Old Grog. Whilst in command of the West India station, and at the height of his popularity on account of his reduction of Porto Bello with six men-of-war only, he introduced the use of rum and water among the ship’s company. When served out, the new beverage proved most palatable, and speedily grew into such favor that it became as popular as the brave admiral himself, and in honor of him was surnamed by acclamation “Grog.”

* * * * *

Hocus-pocus.—According to Tillotson, this singular expression is believed to be a corruption of the transubstantiating formula, Hoc est corpus meum, used by the priest on the elevation of the host. Turner, in his history of the Anglo-Saxons, traces it to Ochus Bochus, a magician and demon of the northern mythology. We should certainly prefer the latter as the source of this conjurer’s catch-word, which the usage of ordinary life connects with jugglery or unfair dealing, but preponderant evidence is in favor of the former.

* * * * *

Malingerer.—This word, brought much into use by the exigencies of our civil war, is from the French “malin gré,” and signifies a soldier who from “evil will” shirks his duty by feigning sickness, or otherwise rendering himself incapable: in plain words, a poltroon.

* * * * *

Mustard.—Etymologists have fought vigorously over the derivation of this word. “Multum ardet,” says one, or in old French, “moult arde,” it burns much. “Mustum ardens, hot must,” says another, referring to the former custom of preparing French mustard for the table with the sweet must of new wine. A picturesque story about the name is thus told:—Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, granted to Dijon certain armorial bearings, with the motto “Moult me tarde”—I long or wish ardently. This was sculptured over the principal gate. In the course of years, by some accident, the central word was effaced. The manufacturers of sinapi or senévé (such were the former names of mustard), wishing to label their pots of condiment with the city arms, copied the mutilated motto; and the unlearned, seeing continually the inscription of “moult-tarde,” fell into the habit of calling the contents by this title.

* * * * *

Navvy.—Many persons have been puzzled by the application of this word, abbreviated from navigator, to laborers. Why should earth-workers be called navigators? They whose business is with an element antipodean to water, why receive a title as of seafaring men? At the period when inland navigation was the national rage, and canals were considered to involve the essentials of prosperity, as railways are now, the workmen employed on them were called “navigators,” as cutting the way for navigation. And when railways superseded canals, the name of the laborers, withdrawn from one work to the other, was unchanged, and merely contracted, according to the dislike of our Anglo-Saxon tongues to use four syllables where a less number will suffice.

* * * * *

Neighbor.—Formerly this familiar word was employed to signify “the boor who lives nigh to us.” And just here is another of those words which have been degraded from their original sense; for boor did not then represent a stupid, ignorant lout, but simply a farmer, as in Dutch now.

* * * * *

Poltroon.—In the olden days the Norman-French “poltroon” had a significance obsolete now: days when Strongbow was a noble surname, and the yew-trees of England were of importance as an arm of national defence; then the coward or malingerer had but to cut off the thumb (“pollice truncus” in Latin)—the thumb which drew the bow, and he was unfit for service, and must be discharged.

* * * * *

Porpoise.—The common creature of the sea, whose gambols have passed into a jest and a proverb, the porpoise, is so named because of his resemblance to a hog when in sportive mood. “Porc-poisson,” said somebody who watched a herd of them tumbling about, for all the world like swine, except for the sharp dorsal fin; and the epithet adhered.

* * * * *

Scrape.—Long ago roamed through the forests the red and fallow deer, which had a habit of scraping up the earth with their fore-feet to the depth of several inches, sometimes even of half a yard. A wayfaring man through the olden woods was frequently exposed to the danger of tumbling into one of these hollows, when he might truly be said to be “in a scrape.” Cambridge students in their little difficulties picked up and applied the phrase to other perplexing matters which had brought a man morally into a fix.

* * * * *

Sterling.—This word was originally applied to the metal rather than to a coin. The following extract from Camden points out its origin as applied to money:—

In the time of his sonne King Richard the First, monie coined in the east parts of Germanie began to be of especiall request in England for the puritie thereof, and was called Easterling monie, as all the inhabitants of those parts were called Easterlings, and shortly after some of that countrie, skilful in mint matters and alloies, were sent for into this realme to bring the coins to perfection, which, since that time, was called of them sterling for Easterlings.

* * * * *

Surplice.—That scholastic and ministerial badge, the surplice, is said to derive its name from the Latin “superpelliceum,” because anciently worn over leathern coats made of hides of beasts; with the idea of representing how the sin of our first parents is now covered by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, so that we are entitled to wear the emblem of innocence.

* * * * *

Sycophant.—The original etymology of the word sycophant is curious. The word συχοφαντέω (from σῦχον, a fig, and φαίνω, to show,) in its primary signification, means to inform against or expose those who exported figs from Athens to other places without paying duty, hence it came to signify calumnior, to accuse falsely, to be a tale-bearer, an evil speaker of others. The word sycophanta means, in its first sense, no more than this. We now apply it to any flatterer, or other abject dependant, who, to serve his own purposes, slanders and detracts from others.

* * * * *

Tariff.—Because payment of a fixed scale of duties was demanded by the Moorish occupants of a fortress on Tarifa promontory, which overlooked the entrance to the Mediterranean, all taxes on imports came to be called a tariff.

* * * * *

Treacle.—A remarkable curiosity in the way of derivations is one traced by that indefatigable explorer, Archbishop Trench, which connects treacle with vipers. The syrup of molasses with the poison of snakes! Never was an odder relationship; yet it is a case of genuine fatherhood, and embodies a singular superstition. The ancients believed that the best antidote to the bite of the viper was a confection of its own flesh. The Greek word θηρταχή, flesh of the viper, was given first to such a sweetmeat, and then to any antidote of poison, and lastly to any syrup; and easily corrupted into our present word. Chaucer has a line—

Christ, which that is to every harm triacle.

Milton speaks of the “sovran treacle of sound doctrine.” A stuff called Venice Treacle was considered antidote to all poisons. “Vipers treacle yield,” says Edmund Waller, in a verse which has puzzled many a modern reader, and yet brings one close to the truth of the etymology, and shows that treacle is only a popular corruption of theriac.

* * * * *

Wig.—This word may be cited as a good example to show how interesting and profitable it is to trace words through their etymological windings to their original source. Wig is abridged from periwig, which comes from the Low Dutch peruik, which has the same meaning. When first introduced into the English language, it was written and pronounced perwick, the u being changed into w, as may still be seen in old English books. Afterwards the i was introduced for euphony, and it became periwick; and finally the ck was changed into g, making it periwig, and by contraction wig.

The Dutch word peruik was borrowed from the French perruque. The termination uik is a favorite one with that nation, and is generally substituted in borrowed words for the French uque and the German auch. The French word perruque comes from the Spanish peluca, and this last from pelo, hair, which is derived from the Latin pilus. Hence the Latin word pilus, hair, through successive transformations, has produced the English word wig.

* * * * *

Windfall.—Centuries ago a clause was extant in the tenure of many English estates, to the effect that the owners might not fell the trees, as the best timber was reserved for the Royal Navy; but any trees that came down without cutting were the property of the tenant. Hence was a storm a joyful and a lucrative event in proportion to its intensity, and the larger the number of forest patriarchs it laid low the richer was the lord of the land. He had received a veritable “windfall.” Ours in the nineteenth century come in the shape of any unexpected profit; and those of us who own estates rather quake in sympathy with our trembling trees on windy nights.

ODD CHANGES OF SIGNIFICATION.

The first verse of Dean Whittingham’s version of the 114th Psalm may be quoted as a curious instance of a phrase originally grave in its meaning become strangely incongruous:—

When Israel by God’s address From Pharaoh’s land was bent, And Jacob’s house the strangers left And in the same train went.

Since the completion of the Pacific Railway, some introductory lines in Southey’s Thalaba require correction:—

Who at this untimely hour Wander o’er the desert sands? No station is in view.

If the author would revisit the earth, he would find numerous “stations” on the railway route across the Great American Desert.

* * * * *

Among funny instances of wresting from a text a meaning to suit a particular purpose, is that of the classical scholar who undertook to prove that the word “smile” was used as a euphemism for a drink in ancient times, by quoting from Horace’s Odes:—

Amara lento temperat risu.

Which is rendered by Martin:—

Meets life’s bitters with a jest, And smiles them down.

By lento risu, it was argued, is clearly meant a slow smile, or one taken through a straw!

The meaning of the word Wretch is one not generally understood. It was originally, and is now, in some parts of England, used as a term of the softest and fondest tenderness. This is not the only instance in which words in their present general acceptation bear a very opposite meaning to what they did in Shakspeare’s time. The word Wench, formerly, was not used in the low and vulgar acceptation that it is at present. Damsel was the appellation of young ladies of quality, and Dame a title of distinction. Knave once signified a servant; and in an early translation of the New Testament, instead of “Paul, the Servant,” we read “Paul, the Knave of Jesus Christ,” or, Paul, a rascal of Jesus Christ. Varlet was formerly used in the same sense as valet. On the other hand, the word Companion, instead of being the honorable synonym of Associate, occurs in the play of Othello with the same contemptuous meaning which we now affix, in its abusive sense, to the word “Fellow;” for Emilia, perceiving that some secret villain had aspersed the character of the virtuous Desdemona, thus indignantly exclaims:—

O Heaven! that such Companions thou’dst unfold, And put in every honest hand a whip, To lash the rascal naked through the world.—iv. 2.

Villain formerly meant a bondman. In feudal law, according to Blackstone, the term was applied to those who held lands and tenements in villenage,—a tenure by base services.

Pedant formerly meant a schoolmaster. Shakspeare says in his Twelfth Night,—

A pedant that keeps a school in the church.—iii. 2.

Bacon, in his Pathway unto Prayer, thus uses the word Imp: “Let us pray for the preservation of the King’s most excellent Majesty, and for the prosperous success of his entirely beloved son Edward our Prince, that most angelic imp.”

The word brat is not considered very elegant now, but a few years ago it had a different signification from its present one. An old hymn or De profundis, by Gascoine, contains the lines,—

“O Israel, O household of the Lord, O Abraham’s brats, O brood of blessed seed, O chosen sheep that loved the Lord indeed.”

It is a somewhat noticeable fact, that the changes in the signification of words have generally been to their deterioration; that is, words that heretofore had no sinister meaning have acquired it. The word cunning, for example, formerly meant nothing sinister or underhanded; and in Thrope’s confession in Fox’s “Book of Martyrs” is the sentence, “I believe that all these three persons [in the Godhead] are even in power, and in cunning, and in might, full of grace and of all goodness.” Demure is another of this class. It was used by earlier writers without the insinuation which is now almost latent in it, that the external shows of modesty and sobriety rest on no corresponding realities. Explode formerly meant to drive off the stage with loud clappings of the hands, but gradually became exaggerated into its present signification. Facetious, too, originally meant urbane, but now has so degenerated as to have acquired the sense of buffoonery; and Mr. Trench sees indications that it will ere long acquire the sense of indecent buffoonery.

Frippery now means trumpery and odds and ends of cheap finery; but once it meant old clothes of value, and not worthless, as the term at present implies. The word Gossip formerly meant only a sponsor in baptism. Sponsors were supposed to become acquainted at the baptismal font, and by their sponsorial act to establish an indefinite affinity towards each other and the child. Thus the word was applied to all who were familiar and intimate, and finally obtained the meaning which is now predominant in it.

Homely once meant secret and familiar, though in the time of Milton it had acquired the same sense as at present. Idiot, from the Greek, originally signified only a private man as distinguished from one in public office, and from that it has degenerated till it has come to designate a person of defective mental powers. Incense once meant to kindle not only anger, but good passions as well; Fuller uses it in the sense of “to incite.” Indolence originally signified a freedom from passion or pain, but now implies a condition of languid non-exertion. Insolent was once only “unusual.”

The derivation of lumber is peculiar. As the Lombards were the bankers, so they were also the pawnbrokers, of the Middle Ages. The “lumber-room” was then the place where the Lombard banker and broker stored his pledges, and lumber gradually came to mean the pledges themselves. As these naturally accumulated till they got out of date or became unserviceable, it is easy to trace the steps by which the word descended to its present meaning.

Obsequious implies an unmanly readiness to fall in with the will of another; but in the original obsequium, or in the English word as employed two centuries ago, there was nothing of this: it rather meant obedience and mildness. Shakspeare, speaking of a deceased person, says,—

“How many a holy and obsequious tear Hath dear religious love stolen from mine eye, As interest of the dead.”

Property and propriety were once synonymous, both referring to material things, as the French word propriété does now. Foreigners do not often catch the distinction at present made in English between the two words; and we know a French gentleman who, recently meeting with some pecuniary reverses, astonished his friends by telling them that he had lost all his “propriety.”

A poet is a person who writes poetry, and, according to the good old customs, a proser was a person who wrote prose, and simply the antithesis of poet. The word has now a sadly different signification; and it would not be considered very respectable to term Addison, Irving, Bancroft, or Everett “prosers.”

INFLUENCE OF NAMES.

The Romans, from the time they expelled their kings, could never endure the idea of being governed by a king. But they submitted to the most abject slavery under an emperor. And Oliver Cromwell did not venture to risk disgusting the republicans by calling himself king, though under the title of Protector he exercised regal functions.

The American colonies submitted to have their commerce and their manufactures crippled by restrictions avowedly for the benefit of the mother-country, and were thus virtually taxed to the amount of all that they in any instance lost by paying more for some article than it would cost to make it themselves, or to buy it of foreigners. But as soon as a tax was imposed under that name, they broke out into rebellion.

It is a marvel to many, and seems to them nearly incredible, that the Israelites should have gone after other gods; and yet the vulgar in most parts of Christendom are actually serving the gods of their heathen ancestors. But then they do not call them gods, but fairies or bogles, etc., and they do not apply the word worship to their veneration of them, nor sacrifice to their offerings. And this slight change of name keeps most people in ignorance of a fact that is before their eyes.

Others, professed Christians, are believed, both by others and by themselves, to be worshippers of the true God, though they invest him with the attributes of one of the evil demons worshipped by the heathen. There is hardly any professed Christian who would not be shocked at the application of the word caprice to the acts of the Most High. And yet his choosing to inflict suffering on his creatures “for no cause” (as some theologians maintain) “except that such is his will,” is the very definition of caprice.

But when Lord Byron published his poem of “Cain,” which contains substantially the very same doctrine, there was a great outcry among pious people, including, no doubt, many who were of the theological school which teaches the same, under other names.

Why and how any evil comes to exist in the universe, reason cannot explain, and revelation does not tell us. But it does show us what is not the cause. That it cannot be from ill will or indifference, is proved by the sufferings undergone by the beloved Son.

Many probably would have hesitated if it had been proposed to them to join a new Church under that name, who yet eagerly enrolled themselves in the Evangelical Alliance,—which is in fact a church, with meetings for worship, and sermons under the name of speeches, and a creed consisting of sundry Articles of Faith to be subscribed; only not called by those names.

Mrs. B. expressed to a friend her great dread of such a medicine as tartar-emetic. She always, she said, gave her children antimonial wine. He explained to her that this is tartar-emetic dissolved in wine; but she remained unchanged.

Mrs. H. did not like that her daughters should be novel-readers; and all novels in prose were indiscriminately prohibited; but any thing in verse was as indiscriminately allowed.

Probably a Quaker would be startled at any one’s using the very words of the prophets, “Thus saith the Lord:” yet he says the same things in the words, “The Spirit moveth me to say so and so.” And some, again, who would be shocked at this, speak of a person,—adult or child,—who addresses a congregation in extempore prayers and discourses, as being under the influence of the Holy Spirit; though in neither case is there any miraculous proof given. And they abhor a claim to infallibility; only they are quite certain of being under the guidance of the Spirit in whatever they say or do.

Quakers, again, and some other dissenters, object to a hired ministry, (in reality, an _un_hired;) but their preachers are to be supplied with all they need; like the father of Molière’s Bourgeois, who was no shopkeeper, but kindly chose goods for his friends, which he let them have for money.

COMPOUND EPITHETS.

The custom of using hard compounds furnished Ben Jonson opportunities of showing his learning as well as his satire. He used to call them “words un-in-one-breath-utterable.” Redi mentions an epigram against the sophists, made up of compounds “a mile long.” Joseph Scaliger left a curious example in Latin, part of which may be thus rendered into English:—

Loftybrowflourishers, Noseinbeardwallowers, Brigandbeardnourishers, Dishandallswallowers, Oldcloakinvestitors, Barefootlookfashioners, Nightprivatefeasteaters, Craftlucubrationers; Youthcheaters, Wordcatchers, Vaingloryosophers, Such are your seekersofvirtue philosophers.

The old naturalist Lovell published a book at Oxford, in 1661, entitled Panzoologicomineralogia. Rabelais proposed the following title for a book:—Antipericatametaparhengedamphicribrationes. The reader of Shakspeare will remember Costard’s honorificabilitudinitatibus, in Love’s Labor Lost, v. 1. There was recently in the British army a major named Teyoninhokarawen. In the island of Mull, Scotland, is a locality named Drimtaidhorickhillichattan. The original Mexican for country curates is Notlazomahnitzteopixcatatzins. The longest Nipmuck word in Eliot’s Indian Bible is in St. Mark i. 40, Wutteppesittukqussunnoowehtunkquoh, and signifies “kneeling down to him.”

OUR VERNACULAR IN CHAUCER’S TIME.

But rede that boweth down for every blaste Ful lyghtly cesse wynde, it wol aryse But so nyle not an oke, when it is caste It nedeth me nought longe the forvyse Men shall reioysen of a great emprise Atchewed wel and stant withouten dout Al haue men ben the longer there about.—Troylus, ii.

Tall Writing.

DEFINITION OF TRANSCENDENTALISM.

The spiritual cognoscence of psychological irrefragibility connected with concutient ademption of incolumnient spirituality and etherialized contention of subsultory concretion.

Translated by a New York lawyer, it stands thus:—

Transcendentalism is two holes in a sand-bank: a storm washes away the sand-bank without disturbing the holes.

THE DOMICILE ERECTED BY JOHN.

Translated from the Vulgate.

Behold the Mansion reared by dædal Jack.

See the malt stored in many a plethoric sack, In the proud cirque of Ivan’s bivouac.

Mark how the Rat’s felonious fangs invade The golden stores in John’s pavilion laid.

Anon, with velvet foot and Tarquin strides, Subtle Grimalkin to his quarry glides,— Grimalkin grim, that slew the fierce rodent Whose tooth insidious Johann’s sackcloth rent.

Lo! now the deep-mouthed canine foe’s assault, That vexed the avenger of the stolen malt, Stored in the hallowed precincts of that hall That rose complete at Jack’s creative call.

Here stalks the impetuous Cow with crumpled horn, Whereon the exacerbating hound was torn, Who bayed the feline slaughter-beast that slew The Rat predacious, whose keen fangs ran through The textile fibers that involved the grain Which lay in Hans’ inviolate domain.

Here walks forlorn the Damsel crowned with rue, Lactiferous spoils from vaccine dugs, who drew, Of that corniculate beast whose tortuous horn Tossed to the clouds, in fierce vindictive scorn, The harrowing hound, whose braggart bark and stir Arched the lithe spine and reared the indignant fur Of Puss, that with verminicidal claw Struck the weird rat in whose insatiate maw Lay reeking malt that erst in Juan’s courts we saw, Robed in senescent garb that seems in sooth Too long a prey to Chronos’ iron tooth.

Behold the man whose amorous lips incline, Full with young Eros’ osculative sign, To the lorn maiden whose lact-albic hands Drew albu-lactic wealth from lacteal glands Of that immortal bovine, by whose horn Distort, to realm ethereal was borne The beast catulean, vexer of that sly Ulysses quadrupedal, who made die The old mordacious Rat that dared devour Antecedaneous Ale in John’s domestic bower.

Lo, here, with hirsute honors doffed, succinct Of saponaceous locks, the Priest who linked In Hymen’s golden bands the torn unthrift, Whose means exiguous stared from many a rift, Even as he kissed the virgin all forlorn, Who milked the cow with implicated horn, Who in fine wrath the canine torturer skied, That dared to vex the insidious muricide, Who let auroral effluence through the pelt Of the sly Rat that robbed the palace Jack had built.

The loud cantankerous Shanghae comes at last, Whose shouts arouse the shorn ecclesiast, Who sealed the vows of Hymen’s sacrament, To him who, robed in garments indigent, Exosculates the damsel lachrymose, The emulgator of that horned brute morose, That tossed the dog, that worried the cat, that kilt The rat, that ate the malt, that lay in the house that Jack built.

FROM THE CURIOSITIES OF ADVERTISING.

TO BE LET,

To an Oppidan, a Ruricolist, or a Cosmopolitan, and may be entered upon immediately:

The House in §Stone Row§, lately possessed by §Capt. Siree§. To avoid Verbosity, the Proprietor with Compendiosity will give a Perfunctory description of the Premises, in the Compagination of which he has Sedulously studied the convenience of the Occupant. It is free from Opacity, Tenebrosity, Fumidity, and Injucundity, and no building can have greater Pellucidity or Translucency—in short, its Diaphaneity even in the Crepuscle makes it like a Pharos, and without laud, for its Agglutination and Amenity, it is a most Delectable Commorance; and whoever lives in it will find that the Neighbors have none of the Truculence, the Immanity, the Torvity, the Spinosity, the Putidness, the Pugnacity, nor the Fugacity observable in other parts of the town, but their Propinquity and Consanguinity occasion Jocundity and Pudicity—from which, and the Redolence of the place (even in the dog-days), they are remarkable for Longevity. For terms and particulars apply to §James Hutchinson§, opposite the §Market-House§.—Dub. News.

FROM THE CURIOSITIES OF THE POST-OFFICE.

The following is a genuine epistle, sent by an emigrant country schoolmaster to a friend at home:—

§Mr M. Connors§

With congruous gratitude and decorum I accost to you this debonnaire communication. And announce to you with amicable Complacency that we continually enjoy competent laudable good health, thanks to our omnipotent Father for it. We are endowed with the momentous prerogatives of respectable operations of a supplement concuity of having a fine brave and gallant youthful daughter the pendicity ladies age is four months at this date, we denominated her Margaret Connolly.

I have to respond to the Communication and accost and remit a Convoy revealing with your identity candor and sincerity. If your brother who had been pristinely located and stationed in England whether he has induced himself with ecstasy to be in preparation to progress with you. I am paid by the respectable potent loyal nobleman that I work for one dollar per day. Announce to us in what Concuity the crops and the products of husbandry dignify, also predict how is John Carroll and his wife and family. My brother and Myself are continually employed and occupied in similar work. Living and doing good. Dictate how John Mahony wife and family is.

Don’t you permit oblivion to obstruct you from inserting this. Prognosticate how Mrs Harrington is and if she accept my intelligence or any convoy from either of Her 2 progenies since their embarkation for this nation. If she has please specify with congruous and elysian gratitude with validity and veracity to my magnanimous self.

I remit my respects to my former friends and acquaintances.

I remain

§D. Connolly§.

P.S. Direct your Epistle to Pembroke, State of Maine.

Dear brother-in-law

I am determined and candidly arrive at Corolary, as I am fully resolved to transfer a sufficient portion of money to you to recompense your liabilities from thence to hence. I hope your similar operations will not impede any occurrence that might obstruct your progression on or at the specified time the 17 of March next.

SPANISH PLAY-BILL,

Exhibited at Seville, 1762.

To the Sovereign of Heaven—to the Mother of the Eternal World—to the Polar Star of Spain—to the Comforter of all Spain—to the faithful Protectress of the Spanish nation—to the Honor and Glory of the Most Holy Virgin Mary—for her benefit and for the Propagation of her Worship—the Company of Comedians will this day give a representation of the Comic Piece called—

NANINE.

The celebrated Italian will also dance the Fandango, and the Theatre will be respectably illuminated.

* * * * *

In a medical work entitled The Breviarie of Health, published in 1547, by Andrew Borde, a physician of that period, is a prologue addressed to physicians, beginning thus:—

Egregious doctors and masters of the eximious and arcane science of physic, of your urbanity exasperate not yourselves against me for making this little volume.

THE MAD POET.

McDonald Clarke, commonly called the mad poet, died a few years ago in the Lunatic Asylum on Blackwell’s Island, New York. He wrote those oft-quoted lines,—

Now twilight lets her curtain down, And pins it with a star.

In his wilder moments he set all rules at defiance, and mingled the startlingly sublime and the laughably ridiculous in the oddest confusion. He talks thus madly of Washington:—

Eternity—give him elbow room; A spirit like his is large; Earth, fence with artillery his tomb, And fire a double charge To the memory of America’s greatest man: Match him, posterity, if you can.

In the following lines, he sketches, with a few bold touches, a well-known place, sometimes called a rum-hole:—

Ha! see where the wild-blazing grogshop appears, As the red waves of wretchedness swell; How it burns on the edge of tempestuous years, The horrible light-house of hell!

FOOTE’S FARRAGO.

The following droll nonsense was written by Foote, the dramatist, for the purpose of trying the memory of Macklin, who boasted that he could learn any thing by heart on hearing it once:—

So she went into the garden to cut a cabbage-leaf to make an apple-pie; and, at the same time, a great she-bear coming up the street pops its head into the shop—What! no soap? So he died; and she very imprudently married the barber; and there were present the Picninnies, and the Joblilies, and the Garyulies, and the great Panjandrum himself, with the little round button at top. And they all fell to playing the game of “catch as catch can,” till the gunpowder ran out of the heels of their boots!

BURLESQUE OF THE STYLE OF DR. JOHNSON.

While I was admiring the fantastical ramifications of some umbelliferous plants that hung over the margin of the Liffey, the fallacious bank, imperceptibly corroded by the moist tooth of the fluid, gave way beneath my feet, and I was suddenly submerged to some fathoms of profundity. Presence of mind, in constitutions not naturally timid, is generally in proportion to the imminence of the peril. Having never learned to move through the water in horizontal progression, had I desponded, I had perished; but, being for a moment raised above the element by my struggles, or by some felicitous casualty, I was sensible of the danger, and immediately embraced the means of extrication. A cow, at the moment of my lapse, had entered the stream, within the distance of a protruded arm; and being in the act of transverse navigation to seek the pasture of the opposite bank, I laid hold on that part of the animal which is loosely pendent behind, and is formed by the continuation of the vertebræ. In this manner I was safely conveyed to a fordable passage, not without some delectation from the sense of the progress without effort on my part, and the exhilarating approximation of more than problematical deliverance. Though in some respects I resembled the pilot of Gyas, Jam senior madidaque fluens in veste, yet my companions, unlike the barbarous Phrygian spectators, forbore to acerbitate the uncouthness of embarrassment by the insults of derision. Shrieks of complorance testified sorrow for my submersion, and safety was rendered more pleasant by the felicitations of sympathy. As the danger was over, I took no umbrage at a little risibility excited by the feculence of my visage, upon which the cow had discharged her gramineous digestion in a very ludicrous abundance. About this time the bell summoned us to dinner; and, as the cutaneous contact of irrigated garments is neither pleasant nor salubrious, I was easily persuaded by the ladies to divest myself of mine. Colonel Manly obligingly accommodated me with a covering of camlet. I found it commodious, and more agreeable than the many compressive ligaments of modern drapery. That there might be no violation of decorum, I took care to have the loose robe fastened before with small cylindrical wires, which the dainty fingers of the ladies easily removed from their dresses and inserted into mine, at such proper intervals as to leave no aperture that could awaken the susceptibility of temperament, or provoke the cachinnations of levity.[11]

Footnote 11:

The peculiar stateliness and dignity of Johnston’s style, when applied to the smaller concerns of life, makes, as will be seen from the above caricature, a very ludicrous appearance. A judicious imitation of his phraseology on trifling subjects was a favorite manner of attack among the critics. Erskine’s account of the Buxton baths is one of the most amusing. When several examples of this sort were shown to Johnson, at Edinburgh, he pronounced that of Lord Dreghorn the best: “but,” said he, “I could caricature my own style much better myself.”

NEWSPAPER EULOGY.

The following alliterative eulogy on a young lady appeared, many years ago, in a newspaper:—

If _b_oundless _b_enevolence _b_e the _b_asis of _b_eatitude, and _h_armless _h_umanity a _h_arbinger of _h_allowed _h_eart, these _C_hristian _c_oncomitants _c_omposed her _c_haracteristics, and _c_onciliated the esteem of her _c_otemporary a_c_quaintances, who _m_ean to _m_odel their _m_anners in the _m_ould of their _m_eritorious _m_onitor.

CLEAR AS MUD.

In a series of Philosophical Essays published many years ago, the author[12] gives some definitions of human knowledge, the following of which he considers “least obnoxious to comprehension:”—

Footnote 12:

Ogilvie.

A coincidence between the association of ideas, and the order or succession of events or phenomena, according to the relation of cause and effect, and in whatever is subsidiary, or necessary to realize, approximate and extend such coincidence; understanding, by the relation of cause and effect, that order or succession, the discovery or development of which empowers an intelligent being, by means of one event or phenomenon, or by a series of given events or phenomena, to anticipate the recurrence of another event or phenomenon, or of a required series of events or phenomena, and to summon them into existence, and employ their instrumentality in the gratification of his wishes, or in the accomplishment of his purposes.

INDIGNANT LETTER.

Addressed to a Louisiana clergyman by a Virginia correspondent.

§Sir§:—You have behaved like an impetiginous acroyli—like those inquinate orosscrolest who envious of my moral celsitude carry their mugacity to the height of creating symposically the fecund words which my polymathic genius uses with uberity to abligate the tongues of the weightless. Sir, you have corassly parodied my own pet words, as though they were tangrams. I will not conceroate reproaches. I would obduce a veil over the atramental ingratitude which has chamiered even my undisceptible heart. I am silent on the foscillation which my coadful fancy must have given you when I offered to become your fanton and adminicle. I will not speak of the liptitude, the ablepsy you have shown in exacerbating me; one whose genius you should have approached with mental discalceation. So, I tell you, Sir, syncophically and without supervacaneous words, nothing will render ignoscible your conduct to me. I warn you that I will vellicate your nose if I thought your moral diathesis could be thereby performed. If I thought that I should not impigorate my reputation by such a degladiation. Go tagygraphic; your oness inquinate draws oblectation from the greatest poet since Milton, and draws upon your head this letter, which will drive you to Webster, and send you to sleep over it.

“Knowledge is power,” and power is mercy; so I wish you no rovose that it may prove an external hypnotic.

INTRAMURAL ÆSTIVATION.

In candent ire the solar splendor flames; The foles, languescent, pend from arid rames; His humid front the cive, anheling, wipes, And dreams of erring on ventiferous ripes.

How dulce to vive occult to mortal eyes, Dorm on the herb with none to supervise, Carp the suave berries from the crescent vine, And bibe the flow from longicaudate kine!

To me, alas! no verdurous visions come, Save yon exiguous pool’s conferva-scum; No concave vast repeats the tender hue That laves my milk-jug with celestial blue!

Me wretched! Let me curr to quercine shades! Effund your albid hausts, lactiferous maids! Oh, might I vole to some umbrageous clump,— Depart,—be off,—excede,—evade,—erump! Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table.

A CHEMICAL VALENTINE.

I love thee, Mary, and thou lovest me, Our mutual flame is like the affinity That doth exist between two simple bodies. I am Potassium to thy Oxygen; ’Tis little that the holy marriage vow Shall shortly make us one. That unity Is, after all, but metaphysical. Oh! would that I, my Mary, were an Acid— A living Acid; thou an Alkali Endowed with human sense; that, brought together, We both might coalesce into one Salt, One homogeneous crystal. Oh that thou Wert Carbon, and myself were Hydrogen! We would unite to form olefiant gas, Or common coal, or naphtha. Would to heaven That I were Phosphorus, and thou wert Lime, And we of Lime composed a Phosphuret! I’d be content to be Sulphuric Acid, So that thou mightst be Soda. In that case, We should be Glauber’s Salt. Wert thou Magnesia Instead, we’d form the salt that’s named from Epsom. Couldst thou Potassa be, I Aquafortis, Our happy union should that compound form, Nitrate of Potash—otherwise Saltpetre. And thus, our several natures sweetly blent We’d live and love together, until death Should decompose this fleshly Tertium Quid, Leaving our souls to all eternity Amalgamated! Sweet, thy name is Briggs, And mine is Johnson. Wherefore should not we Agree to form a Johnsonate of Briggs? We will! the day, the happy day is nigh, When Johnson shall with beauteous Briggs combine.

THE ANATOMIST TO HIS DULCINEA.

I list as thy heart and ascending aorta Their volumes of valvular harmony pour; And my soul from that muscular music has caught a New life ’mid its dry anatomical lore.

Oh, rare is the sound when thy ventricles throb In a systolic symphony measured and slow, When the auricles answer with rhythmical sob, As they murmur a melody wondrously low!

Oh, thy cornea, love, has the radiant light Of the sparkle that laughs in the icicle’s sheen; And thy crystalline lens, like a diamond bright, Through the quivering frame of thine iris is seen!

And thy retina, spreading its lustre of pearl, Like the far-away nebula, distantly gleams From a vault of black cellular mirrors that hurl From their hexagon angles the silvery beams.

Ah! the flash of those orbs is enslaving me still, As they roll ’neath the palpebræ, dimly translucent, Obeying in silence the magical will Of the oculo-motor—pathetic—abducent.

Oh, sweet is thy voice, as it sighingly swells From the daintily quivering chordæ vocales, Or rings in clear tones through the echoing cells Of the antrum, the ethmoid, and sinus frontales!

ODE TO SPRING.

WRITTEN IN A LAWYER’S OFFICE.

Whereas on sundry boughs and sprays Now divers birds are heard to sing, And sundry flowers their heads upraise— Hail to the coming on of Spring!

The birds aforesaid, happy pairs! Love midst the aforesaid boughs enshrines In household nests, themselves, their heirs, Administrators, and assigns.

The songs of the said birds arouse The memory of our youthful hours. As young and green as the said boughs, As fresh and fair as the said flowers.

O busiest term of Cupid’s court! When tender plaintiffs actions bring; Season of frolic and of sport, Hail, as aforesaid, coming Spring!

PRISTINE PROVERBS PREPARED FOR PRECOCIOUS PUPILS.

Observe yon plumed biped fine! To effect his captivation, Deposit particles saline Upon his termination.

Cryptogamous concretion never grows On mineral fragments that decline repose.

Whilst self-inspection it neglects, Nor its own foul condition sees, The kettle to the pot objects Its sordid superficies.

Decortications of the golden grain Are set to allure the aged fowl, in vain.

Teach not a parent’s mother to extract The embryo juices of an egg by suction: That good old lady can the feat enact, Quite irrespective of your kind instruction.

Pecuniary agencies have force To stimulate to speed the female horse.

Bear not to yon famed city upon Tyne The carbonaceous product of the mine.

The mendicant, once from his indigence freed, And mounted aloft on the generous steed, Down the precipice soon will infallibly go, And conclude his career in the regions below.

It is permitted to the feline race To contemplate even a regal face.

Metric Prose.

Quid tentabam scribere versus erat.—§Ovid.§

COWPER’S LETTER TO NEWTON.

The following letter was written to Rev. John Newton, by William Cowper, in reference to a poem On Charity, by the latter:—

My very dear friend, I am going to send, what when you have read, you may scratch your head, and say I suppose, there’s nobody knows, whether what I have got, be verse or not;—by the tune and the time, it ought to be rhyme; but if it be, did ever you see, of late or of yore, such a ditty before?

I have writ “Charity,” not for popularity, but as well as I could, in hopes to do good; and if the “Reviewer” should say to be sure, the gentleman’s muse wears Methodist shoes, you may know by her pace, and talk about grace, that she and her bard have little regard for the tastes and fashions, and ruling passions, and hoydening play, of the modern day; and though she assume a borrowed plume, and now and then wear a tittering air, ’tis only her plan, to catch if she can, the giddy and gay, as they go that way, by a production of a new construction; she has baited her trap, in the hope to snap all that may come, with a sugar-plum. His opinion in this will not be amiss; ’tis what I intend, my principal end; and if I succeed, and folks should read, till a few are brought to a serious thought, I shall think I am paid for all I have said, and all I have done, although I have run, many a time, after a rhyme, as far as from hence to the end of my sense, and by hook or by crook, write another book, if I live and am here another year.

I have heard before of a room with a floor, laid upon springs, and suchlike things, with so much art in every part, that when you went in, you were forced to begin a minuet pace, with an air and a grace, swimming about, now in and now out, with a deal of a state, in a figure of eight, without pipe or string, or any such thing; and now I have writ, in a rhyming fit, what will make you dance, and, as you advance, will keep you still, though against your will, dancing away, alert and gay, till you come to an end of what I have penned, which that you may do, ere madam and you are quite worn out with jigging about, I take my leave, and here you receive a bow profound, down to the ground, from you humble me—W. C.

EXAMPLE IN IRVING’S NEW YORK.

The following remarkable instance of involuntary poetic prose occurs in Knickerbocker’s humorous history of New York, near the commencement of the Sixth Book:—

The gallant warrior starts from soft repose, from golden visions and voluptuous ease; where, in the dulcet “piping time of peace,” he sought sweet solace after all his toils. No more in beauty’s siren lap reclined, he weaves fair garlands for his lady’s brows; no more entwines with flowers his shining sword, nor through the livelong summer’s day chants forth his love-sick soul in madrigals. To manhood roused, he spurns the amorous flute, doffs from his brawny back the robe of peace, and clothes his pampered limbs in panoply of steel. O’er his dark brow, where late the myrtle waved, where wanton roses breathed enervate love, he rears the beaming casque and nodding plume; grasps the bright shield and ponderous lance, or mounts with eager pride his fiery steed, and burns for deeds of glorious chivalry.

In D’Israeli’s Wondrous Tale of Alroy, are remarkable specimens of prose poetry. For example:—

Why am I here? are you not here? and need I urge a stronger plea? Oh, brother dear, I pray you come and mingle in our festival! Our walls are hung with flowers you love; I culled them by the fountain’s side; the holy lamps are trimmed and set, and you must raise their earliest flame. Without the gate my maidens wait to offer you a robe of state. Then, brother dear, I pray you come and mingle in our festival.

NELLY’S FUNERAL.

In Horne’s New Spirit of the Age,—a series of criticisms on eminent living authors,—we find an admirable example of prose poetry thus noticed:—

A curious circumstance is observable in a great portion of the scenes of tragic power, pathos, and tenderness contained in various parts of Mr. Dickens’s works, which it is possible may have been the result of harmonious accident, and the author not even subsequently conscious of it. It is that they are written in blank verse, of irregular metre and rhythms, which Southey, and Shelley, and some other poets, have occasionally adopted. Witness the following description from The Old Curiosity Shop.

And now the bell—the bell She had so often heard by night and day And listened to with solid pleasure, E’en as a living voice— Rung its remorseless toll for her, So young, so beautiful, so good.

Decrepit age, and vigorous life, And blooming youth, and helpless infancy, Poured forth—on crutches, in the pride of strength And health, in the full blush Of promise—the mere dawn of life— To gather round her tomb. Old men were there Whose eyes were dim And senses failing— Granddames, who might have died ten years ago, And still been old—the deaf, the blind, the lame, The palsied, The living dead in many shapes and forms, To see the closing of this early grave! What was the death it would shut in, To that which still would crawl and creep above it!

Along the crowded path they bore her now; Pale as the new-fallen snow That covered it; whose day on earth Had been so fleeting. Under that porch where she had sat when Heaven In mercy brought her to that peaceful spot, She passed again, and the old church Received her in its quiet shade.

Throughout the whole of the above, only two unimportant words have been omitted—in and its; “granddames” has been substituted for “grandmothers,” and “e’en” for “almost.” All that remains is exactly as in the original, not a single word transposed, and the punctuation the same to a comma. The brief homily that concludes the funeral is profoundly beautiful.

Oh! it is hard to take The lesson that such deaths will teach, But let no man reject it, For it is one that all must learn And is a mighty universal Truth. When Death strikes down the innocent and young, For every fragile form from which he lets The parting spirit free, A hundred virtues rise, In shapes of mercy, charity, and love, To walk the world and bless it. Of every tear That sorrowing mortals shed on such green graves, Some good is born, some gentler nature comes.

Not a word of the original is changed in the above quotation, which is worthy of the best passages in Wordsworth, and thus, meeting on the common ground of a deeply truthful sentiment, the two most unlike men in the literature of the country are brought into close proximation.

The following similar passage is from the concluding paragraph of Nicholas Nickleby:—

The grass was green above the dead boy’s grave, Trodden by feet so small and light, That not a daisy drooped its head Beneath their pressure. Through all the spring and summer time Garlands of fresh flowers, wreathed by infant hands, Rested upon the stone.

NIAGARA.

The same rhythmic cadence is observable in the following passage, copied verbatim from the American Notes:—

I think in every quiet season now, Still do those waters roll, and leap, and roar, And tumble all day long; Still are the rainbows spanning them A hundred feet below. Still when the sun is on them, do they shine And glow like molten gold. Still when the day is gloomy do they fall Like snow, or seem to crumble away, Like the front of a great chalk cliff, Or roll adown the rock like dense white smoke.

But always does this mighty stream appear To die as it comes down. And always from the unfathomable grave Arises that tremendous ghost of spray And mist which is never laid: Which has haunted this place With the same dread solemnity, Since darkness brooded on the deep And that first flood before the Deluge—Light Came rushing on Creation at the word of God.

To any one who reads this we need not say that but three lines in it vary at all from the closest requisitions of an iambic movement. The measure is precisely of the kind which Mr. Southey so often used. For the reader’s convenience, we copy from Thalaba his well remembered lines on Night, as an instance:—

How beautiful is Night! A dewy freshness fills the silent air, No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain Breaks the serene of heaven. In full orbed glory yonder Moon divine Rolls through the dark blue depths. Beneath her steady ray The desert circle spreads, Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky. How beautiful is Night!

INVOLUNTARY VERSIFICATION IN THE SCRIPTURES.

The hexametric cadence in the authorized translation of the Bible has been pointed out in another portion of this volume. It is very noticeable in such passages as these, for example, from the Second Psalm:—

Why do the heathen rage and the people imagine a vain thing? Kings of the earth set themselves and the rulers take counsel together.

The anapæstic cadence prevalent in the Psalms is also very remarkable:—

That will bring forth his fruit in due season.—v. 6.

Whatsoever he doth it shall prosper.—v. 4.

Away from the face of the earth.—v. 5.

Be able to stand in the judgment.—v. 6.

The way of th’ ungodly shall perish.—v. 7.

Couplets may be drawn from the same inspired source, as follows:—

Great peace have they that love thy law: And nothing shall offend them.—Psalm, cxix. 165.

Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace Whose mind is stayed on thee.—Isaiah, xxvi. 3.

When his branch is yet tender, and putteth forth leaves, Ye know that the summer is nigh.—Matthew, xxiv. 32.

UNINTENTIONAL RHYMES OF PROSERS.

The delicate ear of Addison, who would stop the press to add a conjunction, or erase a comma, allowed this inelegant jingle to escape his detection:—

What I am going to mention, will perhaps deserve your attention.

Dr. Whewell, when Master of Trinity College, fell into a similar trap, to the great amusement of his readers. In his work on Mechanics, he happened to write literatim and verbatim, though not lincatim, the following tetrastich:—

There is no force, however great, Can stretch a cord, however fine, Into a horizontal line, Which is accurately straight.

A curious instance of involuntary rhythm occurs in President Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address:—

Fondly do we hope, Fervently do we pray, That this mighty scourge of war May speedily pass away: Yet if be God’s will That it continue until—

but here the strain abruptly ceases, and the President relapses into prose.

In the course of a discussion upon the involuntary metre into which Shakspeare so frequently fell, when he intended his minor characters to speak prose, Dr. Johnson observed;

“Such verse we make when we are writing prose; We make such verse in common conversation.”

Kemble and Mrs. Siddons, from their habit of committing to memory and reciting dramatic blank verse, unconsciously made their most ordinary observations in that measure. Kemble, for instance, on giving a shilling to a beggar, thus answered the surprised look of his companion:—

“It is not often that I do these things, But when I do, I do them handsomely.”

And once when, in a walk with Walter Scott on the banks of the Tweed, a dangerous looking bull made his appearance, Scott took the water, Kemble exclaimed:—

“Sheriff, I’ll get me up in yonder tree.”

The presence of danger usually makes a man speak naturally, if anything will. If a reciter of blank verse, then, fall unconsciously into the rhythm of it when intending to speak prose, much more may an habitual writer of it be expected to do so. Instances of the kind from the table-talk of both Kemble and his sister might be multiplied. This of Mrs. Siddons,—

“I asked for water, boy; you’ve brought me beer,——”

is one of the best known.

The Humors of Versification.

THE LOVERS.

IN DIFFERENT MOODS AND TENSES.

Sally Salter, she was a young teacher who taught, And her friend, Charley Church, was a preacher, who praught! Though his enemies called him a screecher, who scraught.

His heart, when he saw her, kept sinking, and sunk; And his eye, meeting hers, began winking, and wunk; While she, in her turn, fell to thinking, and thunk.

He hastened to woo her, and sweetly he wooed, For his love grew until to a mountain it grewed, And what he was longing to do, then he doed.

In secret he wanted to speak, and he spoke, To seek with his lips what his heart long had soke; So he managed to let the truth leak, and it loke.

He asked her to ride to the church, and they rode, They so sweetly did glide, that they both thought they glode, And they came to the place to be tied, and were tode.

Then homeward he said let us drive, and they drove, And soon as they wished to arrive, they arrove; For whatever he couldn’t contrive, she controve.

The kiss he was dying to steal, then he stole; At the feet where he wanted to kneel, then he knole; And he said, “I feel better than ever I fole.”

So they to each other kept clinging, and clung, While Time his swift circuit was winging, and wung; And this was the thing he was bringing and brung:

The man Sally wanted to catch, and had caught— That she wanted from others to snatch, and had snaught— Was the one she now liked to scratch, and she scraught.

And Charley’s warm love began freezing and froze, While he took to teasing, and cruelly toze The girl he had wished to be squeezing, and squoze.

“Wretch!” he cried, when she threatened to leave him, and left, “How could you deceive, as you have deceft?” And she answered, “I promised to cleave, and I’ve cleft.”

A STAMMERING WIFE.

When deeply in love with Miss Emily Pryne, I vowed if the lady would only be mine, I would always be ready to please her; She blushed her consent, though the stuttering lass Said never a word except “You’re an ass— An ass—an ass—iduous teazer!”

But when we were married, I found to my ruth The stammering lady had spoken the truth; For often, in obvious dudgeon, She’d say—if I ventured to give her a jog In the way of reproof—“You’re a dog—dog—dog— A dog—a dog—matic curmudgeon!”

And once, when I said, “We can hardly afford This immoderate style with our moderate board,” And hinted we ought to be wiser, She looked, I assure you, exceedingly blue, And fretfully cried, “You’re a Jew—Jew—Jew— A very ju-dicious adviser!”

Again, when it happened that, wishing to shirk Some rather unpleasant and arduous work, I begged her to go to a neighbor, She wanted to know why I made such a fuss, And saucily said, “You’re a cuss—cuss—cuss— You were always ac—cus—tomed to labor!”

Out of temper at last with the insolent dame, And feeling the woman was greatly to blame, To scold me instead of caressing, I mimicked her speech, like a churl as I am, And angrily said, “You’re a dam—dam—dam— A dam-age instead of a blessing.”

A SONG WITH VARIATIONS.

[§Scene.§—Wife at the piano; brute of a husband, who has no more soul for music than his boot, in an adjoining apartment, making his toilet.]

Oh! do not chide me if I weep!— Come, wife, and sew this button on. Such pain as mine can never sleep!— Zounds! as I live, another’s gone! For unrequited love brings grief,— A needle, wife, and bring your scissors. And Pity’s voice gives no relief— The child! good Lord! he’s at my razors! No balm to case the troubled heart,— Who starched this bosom? I declare That writhes from hate’s envenomed dart!— It’s enough to make a parson swear! When faith in man is given up— How plaguey shiftless are some women! Then sorrow fills her bitter cup— I’ll have to get my other linen. And to its lees the white lips quaff— Smith says he’s coming in to-night, While Malice yields her mocking laugh!— With Mrs. S., and Jones and Wright. Oh! could I stifle in my breast— And Jones will bring some prime old sherry. This aching heart, and give it rest,— We’ll want some eggs for Tom-and-Jerry Could Lethe’s waters o’er me roll,— These stockings would look better mended! And bring oblivion to my soul,— When-will-you-have-that-ditty-ended? Then haply I, in other skies,— We’d better have the oysters fried. Might find the love that earth denies! There! now at last my dickey’s tied!

THOUGHTS WHILE SHE ROCKS THE CRADLE.

What is the little one thinking about? Very wonderful thing, no doubt, Unwritten history! Unfathomable mystery! But he laughs and cries, and eats and drinks, And chuckles and crows, and nods and winks, As if his head were as full of kinks, And curious riddles, as any sphinx! Warped by colic and wet by tears, Punctured by pins, and tortured by fears, Our little nephew will lose two years; And he’ll never know Where the summers go: He need not laugh, for he’ll find it so!

Who can tell what the baby thinks? Who can follow the gossamer links By which the manikin feels his way Out from the shores of the great unknown, Blind, and wailing, and alone, Into the light of day? Out from the shores of the unknown sea, Tossing in pitiful agony! Of the unknown sea that reels and rolls, Specked with the barks of little souls— Barks that were launched on the other side, And slipped from heaven on an ebbing tide! And what does he think of his mother’s eyes? What does he think of his mother’s hair? What of the cradle roof that flies Forward and backward through the air? What does he think of his mother’s breast— Bare and beautiful, smooth and white, Seeking it ever with fresh delight— Cup of his joy and couch of his rest? What does he think when her quick embrace Presses his hand and buries his face Deep where the heart-throbs sink and swell With a tenderness she can never tell, Though she murmur the words Of all the birds— Words she has learned to murmur well? Now he thinks he’ll go to sleep! I can see the shadow creep Over his eyes, in soft eclipse, Over his brow, and over his lips, Out to his little finger tips, Softly sinking, down he goes! Down he goes! down he goes! [Rising and carefully retreating to her seat.] See! he is hushed in sweet repose!

A SERIO-COMIC ELEGY.

WHATELY ON BUCKLAND.

In his “Common-Place Book,” the late Archbishop Whately records the following Elegy on the late geologist, Dr. Buckland:

Where shall we our great professor inter, That in peace may rest his bones? If we hew him a rocky sepulchre He’ll rise and break the stones, And examine each stratum which lies around, For he’s quite in his element underground.

If with mattock and spade his body we lay In the common alluvial soil, He’ll start up and snatch these tools away Of his own geological toil; In a stratum so young the professor disdains That embedded should lie his organic remains.

Then exposed to the drip of some case-hardening spring, His carcase let stalactite cover, And to Oxford the petrified sage let us bring, When he is encrusted all over; There, ’mid mammoths and crocodiles, high on a shelf, Let him stand as a monument raised to himself.

A REMINISCENCE OF TROY.

FROM THE SCHOLIAST.

It was the ninth year of the Trojan war— A tedious pull at best: A lot of us were sitting by the shore— Tydides, Phocas, Castor, and the rest— Some whittling shingles and some stringing bows, And cutting up our friends, and cutting up our foes.

Down from the tents above there came a man, Who took a camp-stool by Tydides’ side, He joined our talk, and, pointing to the pan Upon the embers where our pork was fried, Said he would eat the onions and the leeks, But that fried pork was food not fit for Greeks.

“Look at the men of Thebes,” he said, “and then Look at those cowards in the plains below: You see how ox-like are the ox-fed men; You see how sheepish mutton-eaters grow. Stick to this vegetable food of mine: Men who eat pork grunt, root and sleep like swine.”

Some laughed, and some grew mad, and some grew red: The pork was hissing; but his point was clear. Still no one answered him, till Nestor said, “One inference that I would draw is here: You vegetarians, who thus educate us, Thus far have turned out very small potatoes.”

THE POET BRYANT AS A HUMORIST.

Those who are familiar with Mr. Lowell’s Fable for Critics, will remember the lines:—

There is Bryant, as quiet, as cool, and as dignified, As a smooth, silent iceberg, that never is ignified, Save when by reflection ’tis kindled ’o nights With a semblance of flame by the chill Northern Lights. He may rank (Griswold says so) first bard of your nation; (There’s no doubt he stands in supreme ice-olation,) Your topmost Parnassus he may set his heel on, But no warm applauses come, peal following peal on— He’s too smooth and too polished to hang any zeal on; Unqualified merits, I’ll grant, if you choose, he has ’em, But he lacks the one merit of kindling enthusiasm; If he stir you at all, it is just, on my soul, Like being stirred up by the very North Pole.

The Cambridge wit has either misjudged the character of Bryant’s genius, or he has sacrificed a man to an epigram, and subordinated fact to a jeu d’esprit. Though “quiet and dignified,” Mr. Bryant possesses a rare vein of humor, but its bubbling fancies are not generally known or suspected for the reason that he unbends anonymously. Only one of the diversions of his muse appears in his published works—and that is his invocation “To a Mosquito,” which begins thus:—

Fair insect! that with thread-like legs spread out, And blood-extracting bill and filmy wing, Dost murmur, as thou slowly sail’st about, In pitiless ears full many a plaintive thing, And tell how little our large veins would bleed, Would we but yield them to thy bitter need.

One day, when Mr. Bryant discovered in a fresh number of the Atlantic Monthly a so-called poem, which struck him as uncommonly absurd, he sat down and produced a travesty of it, which was much more effective in its ridicule than any sharper criticism could have been made. Here are the two in conjunction:—

THE “ATLANTIC” POEM.

Bellying earth no anchor throws Stouter than the breath that blows; Night and sorrow cling in vain; It must toss in day again.

Hospital and battle-field, Myriad spots where fate is sealed, Brinks that crumble, sins that urge, Plunge again into the surge.

How the purple breakers throw Round me their insatiate glow. Sweep my deck of hideous freight, Pour through fastening and grate.

BRYANT’S TRAVESTY.

Squint-eyed bacchanals at play, Keep a Lybian holiday, Leading trains of solemn apes, Tipsy with the blood of grapes.

Forty furies—thirty more Than old Milton had before— Scattering sparkles from their hair, Swing their censers in the air.

Toss the flaming goblet off, Heed not ocean’s windy scoff; Let him dash against the shore, Gape and grin, and sweat and roar.

Since which time nothing has been heard of the Atlantic poet! Only those who were “behind the scenes,” in the office of the Evening Post, in the year 1863, knew the authorship of the burlesque—and the burlesque itself will never appear in the poet’s “collected works.”

ON RECEIPT OF A RARE PIPE.

I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the wrappages, stripe after stripe, And when the hidden contents were laid bare, My first remark was: “Mercy, what a pipe!”

A pipe of symmetry that matched its size, Mounted with metal bright—a sight to see— With the rich umber hue that smokers prize, Attesting both its age and pedigree.

A pipe to make the Royal Friedrich jealous, Or the great Teufelsdröck with envy gripe! A man should hold some rank above his fellows To justify his smoking such a Pipe!

What country gave it birth? What blest of cities Saw it first kindle at the glowing coal? What happy artist murmured, “Nunc dimittis,” When he had fashioned this transcendent bowl?

Has it been hoarded in a monarch’s treasures? Was it a gift of peace, or prize of war? Did the great Khalif in his “House of Pleasures” Wager, and lose it to the good Zaafar?

It may have soothed mild Spenser’s melancholy, While musing o’er traditions of the past, Or graced the lips of brave Sir Walter Raleigh Ere sage King Jamie blew his Counterblast.

Did it, safe hidden in some secret cavern, Escape that monarch’s pipoclastic ken? Has Shakespeare smoked it at the Mermaid Tavern, Quaffing a cup of sack with rare old Ben?

Ay, Shakespeare might have watched his vast creations Loom through its smoke—the spectre-haunted Thane, The Sisters at their ghastly invocations, The jealous Moor and melancholy Dane.

’Round its orbed haze and through its mazy ringlets Titania may have led her elfin rout, Or Ariel fanned it with his gauzy winglets, Or Puck danced in the bowl to put it out.

Vain are all fancies—questions bring no answer; The smokers vanish, but the pipe remains; He were indeed a subtle necromancer Could read their records in its cloudy stains.

Nor this alone: its destiny may doom it To outlive e’en its use and history— Some plowman of the future may exhume it From soil now deep beneath the Eastern sea—

And, treasured by some antiquarian Stultus, It may to gaping visitors be shown, Labeled, “The symbol of some ancient Cultus, Conjecturally Phallic, but unknown.”

Why do I thus recall the ancient quarrel ’Twixt Man and Time, that marks all earthly things? Why labor to re-word the hackneyed moral, ὥς ψύλλων γενεή, as Homer sings?

For this: Some links we forge are never broken; Some feelings claim exemption from decay; And Love, of which this pipe was but the token, Shall last, though pipes and smokers pass away.

THE HUMAN EAR.

A sound came booming through the air— “What is that sound?” quoth I. My blue-eyed pet, with golden hair, Made answer presently, “Papa, you know it very well— That sound—it was Saint Pancras Bell.”

My own Louise, put down the cat, And come and stand by me; I’m sad to hear you talk like that, Where’s your philosophy? That sound—attend to what I tell— That sound was not Saint Pancras Bell.

“Sound is the name the sage selects For the concluding term Of a long series of effects, Of which that blow’s the germ. The following brief analysis Shows the interpolations, Miss.

“The blow which, when the clapper slips, Falls on your friend the Bell, Changes its circle to ellipse, (A word you’d better spell), And then comes elasticity, Restoring what it used to be.

“Nay, making it a little more, The circle shifts about. As much as it shrunk in before The Bell, you see, swells out; And so a new ellipse is made, (You’re not attending, I’m afraid).

“This change of form disturbs the air, Which in its turn behaves In like elastic fashion there, Creating waves on waves; Which press each other onward, dear, Until the outmost finds your ear.

“Within that ear the surgeons find A tympanum, or drum, Which has a little bone behind,— Malleus, it’s called by some; But those not proud of Latin Grammar Humbly translate it as the hammer.

“The wave’s vibrations this transmits On to the incus bone, (Incus means anvil, which it hits), And this transfers the tone To the small os orbiculure, The tiniest bone that people carry.

“The stapes next—the name recalls A stirrup’s form, my daughter— Joins three half-circular canals, Each filled with limpid water; Their curious lining, you’ll observe, Made of the auditory nerve.

“This vibrates next—and then we find The mystic work is crowned; For then my daughter’s gentle Mind First recognizes sound. See what a host of causes swell To make up what you call ‘the Bell.’”

Awhile she paused, my bright Louise, And pondered on the case; Then, settling that he meant to teaze, She slapped her father’s face. “You bad old man, to sit and tell Such gibberygosh about a Bell!’”

SIR TRAY: AN ARTHURIAN IDYL.

The widowed Dame of Hubbard’s ancient line Turned to her cupboard, cornered anglewise Betwixt this wall and that, in quest of aught To satisfy the craving of Sir Tray, Prick-eared companion of her solitude, Red-spotted, dirty white, and bare of rib, Who followed at her high and pattering heels, Prayer in his eye, prayer in his slinking gait, Prayer in his pendulous pulsating tail. Wide on its creaking jaws revolved the door, The cupboard yawned, deep-throated, thinly set For teeth, with bottles, ancient canisters, And plates of various pattern, blue or white; Deep in the void she thrust her hooked nose Peering near-sighted for the wished-for bone, Whiles her short robe of samite, tilted high, The thrifty darnings of her hose revealed;— The pointed feature travelled o’er the delf Greasing its tip, but bone or bread found none Wherefore Sir Tray abode still dinnerless, Licking his paws beneath the spinning-wheel, And meditating much on savoury meats.

Meanwhile the Dame in high-backed chair reposed Revolving many memories, for she gazed Down from her lattice on the self-same path Whereby Sir Lancelot ’mid the reapers rode When Arthur held his court in Camelot, And she was called the Lady of Shalott And, later, where Sir Hubbard, meekest knight Of all the Table Round, was wont to pass, And to her casement glint the glance of love. (For all the tale of how she floated dead Between the city walls, and how the Court Gazed on her corpse, was of illusion framed, And shadows raised by Merlin’s magic art, Ere Vivien shut him up within the oak.) There stood the wheel whereat she spun her thread; But of the magic mirror nought remained Save one small fragment on the mantelpiece, Reflecting her changed features night and morn.

But now the inward yearnings of Sir Tray Grew pressing, and in hollow rumblings spake, As in tempestuous nights the Northern seas Within their cavern cliffs reverberate. This touched her: “I have marked of yore,” she said, “When on my palfry I have paced along The streets of Camelot, while many a knight Ranged at my rein and thronged upon my steps, Wending in pride towards the tournament, A wight who many kinds of bread purveyed— Muffins, and crumpets, matutinal rolls, And buns which buttered, soothe at evensong; To him I’ll hie me ere my purpose cool, And swift returning, bear a loaf with me, And (for my teeth be tender grown, and like Celestial visits, few and far between) The crust shall be for Tray, the crumb for me.” This spake she; from their peg reached straightway down Her cloak of sanguine hue, and pointed hat From the flat brim upreared like pyramid On sands Egyptian where the Pharaohs sleep, Her ebon-handled staff (sole palfry now) Grasped firmly, and so issued swiftly forth; Yet ere she closed the latch her cat Elaine, The lily kitten reared at Astolat, Slipped through and mewing passed to greet Sir Tray.

Returning ere the shadows eastward fell, She placed a porringer upon the board, And shred the crackling crusts with liberal hand, Nor noted how Elaine did seem to wail, Rubbing against her hose, and mourning round Sir Tray, who lay all prone upon the hearth. Then on the bread she poured the mellow milk— “Sleep’st thou?” she said, and touched him with her staff; “What, ho! thy dinner waits thee!” But Sir Tray Stirred not nor breathed: thereat, alarmed, she seized And drew the hinder leg: the carcase moved All over wooden like a piece of wood— “Dead?” said the Dame, while louder wailed Elaine; “I see,” she said, “thy fasts were all too long, Thy commons all too short, which shortened thus Thy days, tho’ thou mightst still have cheered mine age Had I but timelier to the city wonned. Thither I must again, and that right soon, For now ’tis meet we lap thee in a shroud, And lay thee in the vault by Astolat, Where faithful Tray shall by Sir Hubbard lie.”

Up a by-lane the Undertaker dwelt; There day by day he plied his merry trade, And all his undertakings undertook: Erst knight of Arthur’s Court, Sir Waldgrave hight, A gruesome carle who hid his jests in gloom, And schooled his lid to counterfeit a tear. With cheerful hammer he a coffin tapt, While hollow, hollow, hollow, rang the wood, And, as he sawed and hammered, thus he sang:—

Wood, hammer, nails, ye build a house for him, Nails, hammer, wood, ye build a house for me, Paying the rent, the taxes, and the rates.

I plant a human acorn in the ground, And therefrom straightway springs a goodly tree, Budding for me in bread and beer and beef.

O Life, dost thou bring Death or Death bring thee? Which of the twain is bringer, which the brought? Since men must die that other men may live.

O Death, for me thou plump’st thine hollow cheeks, Mak’st of thine antic grin a pleasant smile, And prank’st full gaily in thy winding sheet.

This ditty sang he to a doleful tune To outer ears it sounded like a dirge, Or wind that wails across the fields of death. ’Ware of a visitor, he ceased his strain, But still did ply his saw industrious. With withered hand on ear, Dame Hubbard stood; “Vex not mine ears,” she grated, “with thine old And creaking saw!” “I deemed,” he said, and sighed, “Old saws might please thee, as they should the wise.” “Know,” said the Dame, “Sir Tray that with me dwelt Lies on my lonely hearthstone stark and stiff; Wagless the tail that waved to welcome me.”— Here Waldgrave interposed sepulchral tones, “Oft have I noted, when the jest went round, Sad ’twas to see the wag forget his tale— Sadder to see the tail forget its wag.” “Wherefore,” resumed she, “take of fitting stuff, And make therewith a narrow house for him.” Quoth he, “From yonder deal I’ll plane the bark, So ’twill of Tray be emblematical; For thou, ’tis plain, must lose a deal of bark, Since he nor bark nor bite shall practice more.” “And take thou, too,” she said, “a coffin-plate, And be his birth and years inscribed thereon With letters twain ‘S. T.’ to mark Sir Tray, So shall the tomb be known in after time.” “This, too,” quoth Waldgrave, “shall be deftly done; Oft hath the plate been freighted with his bones, But now his bones must lie beneath the plate.” “Jest’st thou?” Dame Hubbard said, and clutched her crutch, For ill she brooked light parlance of the dead; But when she saw Sir Waldgrave, how his face Was all drawn downward, till the curving mouth Seemed a horseshoe, while o’er the furrowed cheek A wandering tear stole on, like rivulet In dry ravine down mother Ida’s side, She changed her purpose, smote not, lowered the staff;— So parted, faring homeward with her grief.

Nearing her bower, it seemed a sepulchre Sacred to memory, and almost she thought A dolorous cry arose, as if Elaine Did sound a caterwauling requiem. With hesitating hand she raised the latch, And on the threshold with reluctant foot Lingered, as loath to face the scene of woe, When lo! the body lay not on the hearth, For there Elaine her flying tail pursued,— In the Dame’s chair Sir Tray alive did sit, A world of merry meaning in his eye, And all his face agrin from ear to ear.

Like one who late hath lost his dearest friend, And in his sleep doth see that friend again, And marvels scarce to see him, putting forth A clasping hand, and feels him warm with life, And so takes up his friendship’s broken thread— Thus stood the Dame, thus ran she, pattering o’er The sanded tiles, and clasped she thus Sir Tray, Unheeding of the grief his jest had wrought For joy he was not numbered with the dead.

Anon the Dame, her primal transports o’er, Bethought her of the wisdom of Sir Tray, And his fine wit, and then it shameful seemed That he bareheaded ’neath the sky should go While empty skulls of fools went thatched and roofed; “A hat,” she cried, “would better fit those brows Than many a courtier’s that I’ve wotted of; And thou shalt have one, an’ my tender toes On which the corns do shoot, and these my knees Wherethro’ rheumatic twinges swiftly dart, Will bear me to the city yet again, And thou shalt wear the hat as Arthur wore The Dragon of the great Pendragonship.” Whereat Sir Tray did seem to smile, and smote Upon the chair-back with approving tail.

Then up she rose, and to the Hatter’s went,— “Hat me,” quoth she, “your very newest hat;” And so they hatted her, and she returned Home through the darksome wold, and raised the latch, And marked, full lighted by the ingle-glow, Sir Tray, with spoon in hand, and cat on knee, Spattering the mess about the chaps of Puss.

THE OLOGIES.

We’re going to begin with an ample Apology; You’ll end, we are sure, by a hearty Doxology, If, all undeterred by our strange Phraseology, You chose to sit down to a dish of Tautology.

* * * * *

One’s pestered in these days by so many ’ologies, We thought we would fain see the tale of our foes; A niche of your own in the new Martyrologies You’d earn if you’d only go halves in our woes.

We’v counted some forty! but how many more there are, We’re even now wholly unable to say; We fear that at least the same number in store there are, You’ll say we have found quite enough for one day.

* * * * *

“So now for our Catalogue: first comes Anthology— A bouquet of flowers, a budget of rhymes; That’s pleasant—not so the next, called Anthropology, The science of man in all ages and climes.

“Then comes a most useful pursuit, Arachnology; They’re bipeds, the spiders who weave the worst webs; But when one is asked to go in for Astrology, And Zadkiel! one’s courage most rapidly ebbs.

“The next on our roster is old Archæology, A science that’s lately been much in repute; One can’t say as much for Electro-biology, Which now-o’-days no one seems ever to bruit.

“But none can afford to make light of Chronology, Tho’ ladies are apt to be dark upon dates; We most of us make rather light of Conchology Except when the oyster-shell gapes on our plates.

“The Devil’s deposed they say, and Demonology Would certainly seem to have gone to the De’il; Some savants, like Hooker, still swallow Dendrology, But tree-names are somewhat too tough for my meal.

“The parsons are great upon Ecclesiology, And prate about proper pyramidal piles; Few travelers care to neglect Entomology, Their wakefulness often its study beguiles.

“’Twould take you a life-time to learn Etymology, And dabblers get into most marvellous scrapes; And Huxley would tell you as much of Ethnology,— Who really believes we are cousins of apes?

“Dean Buckland it was who first started Geology, And traced the rock pedigrees, fixing their ranks; And Frank has of late taken up Ichthyology, The salmon already have voted him thanks.

“Von Humboldt had fairly exhausted Kosmology, But Nature’s a quite inexhaustible mine; Napoleon has fulfilled a new Martyrology, Imbrued with the purest blue-blood of the Rhine.

“We all of us thought we were deep in Mythology, Till Cox and Max Müller both deepened its well; Our sons may learn something of Meteorology— The weather our prophets all fail to foretell.

“The study of life is bound up with Necrology, And we shall have one day to enter its lists,— And furnish some specimens for Osteology, The science of bones, on which Owen exists.

“At breakfast we’re seldom averse to Oology, Or lunch, when the plovers are pleased to lay eggs; But then one would bar embryonic Ontology, Preferring fowls full-grown with breast, wings, and legs!

“For oh! we decidedly like Ornithology And chiefly the study of grouse on the wing; We’d leave it to doctors to study Pathology; The study of pain is a troublesome thing.

“We all of us need a small dose of Philology, If caring to make the best use of our tongues; A careful attention to strict Phraseology Involves a most notable saving of lungs.

“The study of heads has been christened Phrenology, Professors would call it the study of brain; But take my advice, and avoid Pneumatology, For spirits are apt to treat brains with disdain.

“For much the same reason, we’d banish Psychology,— What savant can give an account of his soul? And if we could only abolish Theology, The parsons alone would be hard to console!

“If ever you happened to study Splanchnology, You’d know what it is theologians lack,— Inquisitors never complain of Tautology, So long as rank heretics roar on the rack.

“And now is the time to strike up your Doxology, For we would no longer detain you, my friend;— On Sunday we all have a turn for Zoology, So here is our Catalogue come to an end.”

THE VARIATION HUMBUG.

The London Charivari thinks that there is more humbug talked, printed, and practiced in reference to music than to anything else in the world, except politics. And of all the musical humbugs extant it occurs to Mr. Punch that the variation humbug is the greatest. This party has not even the sense to invent a tune for himself, but takes someone else’s, and starting therefrom, as an acrobat leaps from a spring-board, jumps himself into a musical reputation on the strength of the other party’s ideas. Mr. Punch wonders what would be thought of a poet who should try to make himself renown by this kind of thing—taking a well-known poem of a predecessor and doing variations on it after this fashion:—

BUGGINS’ VARIATIONS ON THE BUSY BEE.

How doth the Little Busy Bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower, From every opening flower, flower, flower, That sparkles in a breezy bower, And gives its sweetness to the shower, Exhaling scent of gentle power, That lasts on kerchief many an hour, And is a lady’s graceful dower, Endeared alike to cot and tower, Round which the Little Busy Bee Improves each shining hour, And gathers honey all the day From every opening flower, From every opening flower, flower, flower, From every opening flower.

How skillfully she builds her cell, How neat she spreads her wax, And labors hard to store it well, With the sweet food she makes, With the sweet food she makes, With the sweet food she makes, makes, makes, When rising just as morning breaks, The dewdrop from the leaf she shakes, And oft the sleeping moth she wakes, And diving through the flower she takes, The honey with her fairy rakes, And in her cell the same she cakes, Or sports across the silver lakes, Beside her children, for whose sakes How skillfully she builds her cell, How neat she spreads her wax, And labors hard to store it well, With the sweet food she makes.

In works of labor or of skill, I would be busy too, For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do, For idle hands to do, For idle hands to do, do, do. Things which thereafter they will rue, When Justice fiercely doth pursue, Or conscience raises cry and hue, And evil-doers look quite blue, When Peelers run with loud halloo, And magistrates put on the screw, And then the wretch exclaims, Boo-hoo, In works of labor or of skill I wish I’d busied too, For Satan’s found much mischief still, For my two hands to do.

There! Would a poet get much reputation for these variations, which are much better in their way than most of those built upon tunes? Would the poetical critics come out, as the musical critics do, with “Upon Watts’ marble foundation Buggins has raised a sparkling alabaster palace;” or, “The old-fashioned Watts has been brought into new honor by the étincellant Buggins;” or “We love the old tune, but we have room in our hearts for the fairy-like fountains of bird-song which Buggins has bid start from it?” Mr. Punch has an idea that Buggins would have no such luck; the moral to be deduced from which fact is, that a musical prig is luckier than a poetical prig.

REITERATIVE VOCAL MUSIC.

A well-known reviewer, in an article on Hymnology, says:—

Who could endure to hear and sing hymns, the meaning and force of which he really felt—set, as they frequently have been, to melodies from the Opera, and even worse, or massacred by the repetition of the end of each stanza, no matter whether or not the grammar and sense were consistent with it. Take such memorable cases of incongruity as:—

“My poor pol— My pool pol— My poor polluted heart.”

To which he might have added from Dr. Watts:—

“And see Sal—see Sal—see Salvation nigh.”

Or this to the same common metre tune, “Miles’s Lane”:—

“Where my Sal—my Sal—my Salvation stands.”

Or this when sung to “Job”:—

“And love thee Bet— And love thee better than before.”

Or—

“Stir up this stu— Stir up this stupid heart to pray.”

Or this crowning absurdity:—

“And more eggs—more eggs—more exalts our joys.”

This to the tune of “Aaron” 7’s:—

“With thy Benny— With thy benediction seal.”

This has recently been added in a fashionable metropolitan church:—

“And take thy pil— And take thy pilgrim home.”

And further havoc is made with language and sense thus:—

“Before his throne we bow—wow—wow—ow—wow.”

And—

“I love to steal I love to steal—awhile away.”

And—

“O, for a man— O, for a mansion in the skies.”

To which we may add:—

“And we’ll catch the flea— And we’ll catch the flee—ee—eeting hour.”

Two trebles sing, “And learn to kiss”; two trebles and alto, “And learn to kiss”; two trebles, alto, and tenor, “And learn to kiss”; the bass, solus, “the rod.”

This is sung to a tune called “Boyce”:—

“Thou art my bull— Thou art my bulwark and defence.”

THE CURSE OF O’KELLY.

Carmac O’Kelly, the celebrated Irish harper, went to Doneraile, in the county of Cork, where his watch was pilfered from his fob. This so roused his ire that he celebrated the people in the following unexampled “string of curses:”—

Alas! how dismal is my tale, I lost my watch in Doneraile, My Dublin watch, my chain and seal, Pilfered at once in Doneraile. May fire and brimstone never fail To fall in showers on Doneraile; May all the leading fiends assail The thieving town of Doneraile. As lightnings flash across the vale, So down to hell with Doneraile; The fate of Pompey at Pharsale, Be that the curse of Doneraile. May beef or mutton, lamb or veal, Be never found in Doneraile, But garlic soup and scurvy kale, Be still the food for Doneraile, And forward as the creeping snail, Industry be at Doneraile. May Heaven a chosen curse entail, On ragged, rotten Doneraile. May sun and moon forever fail To beam their lights on Doneraile; May every pestilential gale Blast that cursed spot called Doneraile; May no sweet cuckoo, thrush or quail Be ever heard in Doneraile; May patriots, kings, and commonweal Despise and harass Doneraile; May every post, gazette and mail, Sad tidings bring of Doneraile; May vengeance fall on head and tail, From north to south of Doneraile May profit small, and tardy sale, Still damp the trade of Doneraile: May fame resound a dismal tale, Whene’er she lights on Doneraile; May Egypt’s plagues at once prevail, To thin the knaves at Doneraile; May frost and snow, and sleet and hail, Benumb each joint in Doneraile; May wolves and bloodhounds race and trail The cursed crew of Doneraile; May Oscar with his fiery flail To atoms thrash all Doneraile; May every mischief, fresh and stale, May all from Belfast to Kinsale, Scoff, curse and damn you, Doneraile. May neither flour nor oatmeal, Be found or known in Doneraile; May want and woe each joy curtail, That e’er was known in Doneraile; May no one coffin want a nail, That wraps a rogue in Doneraile; May all the thieves who rob and steal, The gallows meet in Doneraile; May all the sons of Gramaweal, Blush at the thieves of Doneraile; May mischief big as Norway whale, O’erwhelm the knaves of Doneraile; May curses whole and by retail, Pour with full force on Doneraile; May every transport wont to sail, A convict bring from Doneraile; May every churn and milking-pail Fall dry to staves in Doneraile; May cold and hunger still congeal, The stagnant blood of Doneraile; May every hour new woes reveal, That hell reserves for Doneraile; May every chosen ill prevail O’er all the imps of Doneraile; May th’ inquisition straight impale, The Rapparees of Doneraile; May curse of Sodom now prevail, And sink to ashes Doneraile; May Charon’s boat triumphant sail, Completely manned from Doneraile; Oh! may my couplet never fail To find new curse for Doneraile; And may grim Pluto’s inner jail Forever groan with Doneraile.

Hiberniana.

Maria Edgeworth, in her Essay on Irish Bulls, remarks that “the difficulty of selecting from the vulgar herd a bull that shall be entitled to the prize, from the united merits of pre-eminent absurdity and indisputable originality, is greater than hasty judges may imagine.”

Very true; but if the prize were offered for a batch of Irish diamonds, we think the following copy of a letter written during the Rebellion, by S——, an Irish member of Parliament, to his friend in London, would present the strongest claim:—

“My dear Sir:—Having now a little peace and quietness, I sit down to inform you of the dreadful bustle and confusion we are in from these blood-thirsty rebels, most of whom are (thank God!) killed and dispersed. We are in a pretty mess; can get nothing to eat, nor wine to drink, except whiskey; and when we sit down to dinner, we are obliged to keep both hands armed. Whilst I write this, I hold a pistol in each hand and a sword in the other. I concluded in the beginning that this would be the end of it; and I see I was right, for it is not half over yet. At present there are such goings on, that every thing is at a stand still. I should have answered your letter a fortnight ago, but I did not receive it till this morning. Indeed, hardly a mail arrives safe without being robbed. No longer ago than yesterday the coach with the mails from Dublin was robbed near this town: the bags had been judiciously left behind for fear of accident, and by good luck there was nobody in it but two outside passengers who had nothing for thieves to take. Last Thursday notice was given that a gang of rebels were advancing here under the French standard; but they had no colors, nor any drums except bagpipes. Immediately every man in the place, including women and children, ran out to meet them. We soon found our force much too little; and we were far too near to think of retreating. Death was in every face; but to it we went, and by the time half our little party were killed we began to be all alive again. Fortunately, the rebels had no guns, except pistols, cutlasses, and pikes; and as we had plenty of guns and ammunition, we put them all to the sword. Not a soul of them escaped, except some that were drowned in an adjacent bog; and in a very short time nothing was to be heard but silence. Their uniforms were all different colors, but mostly green. After the action, we went to rummage a sort of camp which they had left behind them. All we found was a few pikes without heads, a parcel of empty bottles full of water, and a bundle of French commissions filled up with Irish names. Troops are now stationed all around the country, which exactly squares with my ideas. I have only time to add that I am in great haste.

“Yours truly, ——.

“P. S.—If you do not receive this, of course it must have miscarried: therefore I beg you will write and let me know.”

Miss Edgeworth says, further, that “many bulls, reputed to be bred and born in Ireland, are of foreign extraction; and many more, supposed to be unrivalled in their kind, may be matched in all their capital points.” To prove this, she cites numerous examples of well-known bulls, with their foreign prototypes, not only English and Continental, but even Oriental and ancient. Among the parallels of familiar bulls to be found nearer our American home since the skillful defender of Erin’s naïveté wrote her Essay, one of the best is an economical method of erecting a new jail:—

The following resolutions were passed by the Board of Councilmen in Canton, Mississippi:—

1. Resolved, by this Council, that we build a new Jail.

2. Resolved, that the new Jail be built out of the materials of the old Jail.

3. Resolved, that the old Jail be used until the new Jail is finished.

It was a Frenchman who, in making a classified catalogue of books, placed Miss Edgeworth’s Essay in the list of works on Natural History; and it was a Scotchman who, having purchased a copy of it, pronounced her “a puir silly body, to write a book on bulls, and no ane word o’ horned cattle in it a’, forbye the bit beastie [the vignette] at the beginning.” Examples from the common walks of life and from periodical literature may readily be multiplied to show that these phraseological peculiarities are not to be exclusively attributed to Ireland. But if we adopt Coleridge’s definition, which is, that “a bull consists in a mental juxtaposition of incongruous ideas, with the sensation, but without the sense, of connection,” we shall find frequent instances of its occurrence among standard authors. Take the following blunders, for examples:—

Adam, the goodliest man of men _since born His sons_—the fairest of her daughters, Eve. Milton’s Paradise Lost.

The loveliest pair That ever since in love’s embraces met.—Ib. B. iv.

Swift, being an Irishman, of course abounds in blunders, some of them of the most ludicrous character; but we should hardly expect to find in the elegant Addison, the model of classical English, such a singular inaccuracy as the following:—

So the pure limpid stream, when foul with stains Of rushing torrents and descending rains.—Cato.

He must have seen in a blaze of blinding light (this is “ipsis Hibernis Hibernior”) the vanity and evil, the folly and madness, of the worldly or selfish, and the grandeur and truth of the disinterested and Christian life.—Gilfillan’s Bards of the Bible.

The real and peculiar magnificence of St. Petersburgh consists in thus sailing apparently upon the bosom of the ocean, into a city of palaces.—Sedgwick’s Letters from the Baltic.

The astonished Yahoo, smoking, as well as he could, a cigar, with which he had filled all his pockets.—Warren’s Ten Thousand a Year.

The following specimens are from the works of Dr. Johnson:—

Every monumental inscription should be in Latin; for that being a dead language, it will always live.

Nor yet perceived the vital spirit fled, But still fought on, nor knew that he was dead.

Shakspeare has not only shown human nature as it is, but as it would be found in situations to which it cannot be exposed.

Turn from the glittering bribe your scornful eye, Nor sell for gold what gold can never buy.

These observations were made by favor of a contrary wind.

The next two are from Pope:—

Eight callow infants filled the mossy nest, Herself the ninth.

When first young Maro, in his noble mind, A work t’ outlast immortal Rome designed.

Shakspeare says,—

I will strive with things impossible, Yea, get the better of them.—Julius Cæsar, ii. 1.

A horrid silence first invades the ear.—§Dryden.§

Beneath a mountain’s brow, the most remote And inaccessible by shepherds trod.—§Home§: Douglass.

In the Irish Bank-bill passed by Parliament in June, 1808, is a clause providing that the profits shall be equally divided and the residue go to the Governor.

Sir Richard Steele, being asked why his countrymen were so addicted to making bulls, said he believed there must be something in the air of Ireland, adding, “I dare say if an Englishman were born there he would do the same.”

Mr. Cunningham, to whom we are indebted for the interesting notes to Johnson’s “Lives of the Poets,” pronounces his author the most distinguished of his cotemporaries.

Sir Walter Scott perpetrates a curious blunder in one of his novels, in making certain of his characters behold a sunset over the waters of a seaport on the eastern coast of Scotland.

The following occurs in Dr. Latham’s English Language. Speaking of the genitive or possessive case, he says,—

“In the plural number, however, it is rare; so rare, indeed, that whenever the plural ends in s (as it always does) there is no genitive.”

Byron says,—

I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand.

(He meant a palace on one hand, and a prison on the other.)

Dr. Johnson, in his Dictionary, defines a garret as “a room on the highest floor in the house,” and a cock-loft as “the room over the garret.”

For the sake of comparison, we recur to the favorite pasture of the genuine thorough-bred animal:—

An Irish member of Parliament, speaking of a certain minister’s well-known love of money, observed, “Let not the honorable member express a contempt for money,—for if there is any one office that glitters in the eyes of the honorable member, it is that of purse-bearer: a pension to him is a compendium of all the cardinal virtues. All his statesmanship is comprehended in the art of taxing; and for good, better, and best, in the scale of human nature, he invariably reads pence, shillings, and pounds. I verily believe,” continued the orator, rising to the height of his conception, “that if the honorable gentleman were an undertaker, it would be the delight of his heart to see all mankind seized with a common mortality, that he might have the benefit of the general burial, and provide scarfs and hat-bands for the survivors.”

The manager of a provincial theatre, finding upon one occasion but three persons in attendance, made the following address:—“Ladies and gentlemen—as there is nobody here, I’ll dismiss you all. The performances of this night will not be performed; but they will be repeated to-morrow evening.”

A Hibernian gentleman, when told by his nephew that he had just entered college with a view to the church, said, “I hope that I may live to hear you preach my funeral sermon.”

An Irishman, quarrelling with an Englishman, told him if he didn’t hold his tongue, he would break his impenetrable head, and let the brains out of his empty skull.

“My dear, come in and go to bed,” said the wife of a jolly son of Erin, who had just returned from the fair in a decidedly how-come-you-so state: “you must be dreadful tired, sure, with your long walk of six miles.” “Arrah! get away with your nonsense,” said Pat: “it wasn’t the length of the way, at all, that fatigued me: ’twas the breadth of it.”

A poor Irishman offered an old saucepan for sale. His children gathered around him and inquired why he parted with it. “Ah, me honeys,” he answered, “I would not be afther parting with it but for a little money to buy something to put in it.”

A young Irishman who had married when about nineteen years of age, complaining of the difficulties to which his early marriage subjected him, said he would never marry so young again if he lived to be as ould as Methuselah.

In an Irish provincial paper is the following notice:—Whereas Patrick O’Connor lately left his lodgings, this is to give notice that if he does not return immediately and pay for the same, he will be advertised.

“Has your sister got a son or a daughter?” asked an Irishman of a friend. “Upon my life,” was the reply, “I don’t know yet whether I’m an uncle or aunt.”

“I was going,” said an Irishman, “over Westminster Bridge the other day, and I met Pat Hewins. ‘Hewins,’ says I, ‘how are you?’ ‘Pretty well,’ says he, ‘thank you, Donnelly.’ ‘Donnelly!’ says I: ‘that’s not my name.’ ‘Faith, no more is mine Hewins,’ says he. So we looked at each other again, and sure it turned out to be nayther of us; and where’s the bull of that, now?”

“India, my boy,” said an Irish officer to a friend on his arrival at Calcutta, “is the finest climate under the sun; but a lot of young fellows come out here and they drink and they eat, and they drink and they die: and then they write home to their parents a pack of lies, and say it’s the climate that has killed them.”

In the perusal of a very solid book on the progress of the ecclesiastical differences of Ireland, written by a native of that country, after a good deal of tedious and vexatious matter, the reader’s complacency is restored by an artless statement how an eminent person “abandoned the errors of the church of Rome, and adopted those of the church of England.”

Here is an American Hibernicism, which is entitled to full recognition:—Among the things that Wells & Fargo’s Express is not responsible for as carriers is one couched in the following language in their regulations: “Not for any loss or damage by fire, the acts of God, or of Indians, or any other public enemies of the government.”