Chapter XLVI. A domestic picture is give

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GLEANINGS

FOR THE CURIOUS

FROM THE

_Harvest-Fields of Literature_.

A MELANGE OF EXCERPTA,

COLLATED BY

C. C. BOMBAUGH, A.M., M.D.

“So she gleaned in the field until even, and beat out that she had

gleaned: and it was about an ephah of barley.” §Ruth 2:17.§

“I have here made a nosegay of culled flowers, and have brought nothing

of my own but the string that ties them.”—§Montaigne.§

[Illustration]

PHILADELPHIA:

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.

1890.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by

A. D. WORTHINGTON & CO.

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prefatory.

I am not ignorant, ne unsure, that many there are, before whose sight

this Book shall finde small grace, and lesse favour. So hard a thing it

is to write or indite and matter, whatsoever it be, that should be able

to sustaine and abide the variable judgement, and to obtaine or winne

the constant love and allowance of every man, especially if it containe

in it any novelty or unwonted strangenesse.—§Raynald’s Woman’s Book.§

Bid him welcome. This is the motley-minded gentleman.

§As You Like It.§

—A fountain set round with a rim of old, mossy stones, and paved in its

bed with a sort of mosaic work of variously-colored pebbles.

§House of Seven Gables.§

—A gatherer and a disposer of other men’s stuff.

§Wotton.§

A running banquet that hath much variety, but little of a sort.

§Butler.§

They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps.

§Love’s Labor Lost.§

There’s no want of meat, sir; portly and curious viands are prepared to

please all kinds of appetites.

§Massinger.§

A dinner of fragments is said often to be the best dinner. So are there

few minds but might furnish some instruction and entertainment out of

their scraps, their odds and ends of thought. They who cannot weave a

uniform web may at least produce a piece of patchwork; which may be

useful and not without a charm of its own.

§Guesses at Truth.§

—It is a regular omnibus; there is something in it to everybody’s taste.

Those who like fat can have it; so can they who like lean; as well as

those who prefer sugar, and those who choose pepper.

§Mysteries of Paris.§

Read, and fear not thine own understanding: this book will create a

clear one in thee; and when thou hast considered thy purchase, thou wilt

call the price of it a charity to thyself.

§Shirley.§

In winter you may reade them ad ignem, by the fireside, and in summer ad

umbram, under some shadie tree; and therewith passe away the tedious

howres.

§Saltonstall.§

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.

Contents.

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

------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.

[Illustration]

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:—

[Illustration:

O lovely maid, thou art the fairest slave in all God’s mart!

Those charms to win, with all my empire I would gladly part.

One kiss I send, to pierce, like fire, thy too reluctant heart.

]

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_!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: IHS]

§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.

* * * * *

_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.

* * * * *

_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.

* * * * *

_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_.

* * * * *

_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_.

* * * * *

_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.

* * * * *

_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.”

* * * * *

_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.

* * * * *

_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.

* * * * *

_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.

* * * * *

_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,