From a German versification of a passage from the works of Abraham à
Santa Clara, a Jesuit preacher of the Seventeenth Century.
St. Anthony, _one_ day
Found the Church empty, Sunday:
So he goes to the river,
A discourse to deliver:
They’re ready to listen--
Their tails flop and glisten.
The carps, those old scorners,
Come out of their corners;
Their carping suspended,
Their jaws wide extended,
(Ears wanting--) to swallow
Remarks that might follow.
The pouts, cross-grained pouters--
Those well-known come-outers,--
For this once go-_inners_,
Confessed themselves sinners.
The pouts said they never
Heard a sermon so clever.
Crabs and mud-turtles also,
That usually crawl so,
And in dirt their heads bury,
Came up in a hurry.
Crabs and turtles had never
Heard sermon so clever.
Eels and sturgeons, best livers
Of all in the rivers--
Forsaking their dinners
Bewailed themselves sinners.
Eels and sturgeons had never
Heard sermon so clever.
And lastly, those odd fish
We mortals call codfish--
Their glass eyes distended--
Devoutly attended,
Like rational creatures,
This greatest of preachers.
And dog-fish and cat-fish,
And flounders and flat-fish,
And, finally, all fish,
Both great fish and small fish,
Came swimming and squirming
In shoals to the sermon;
And all said they never
Had heard one so clever.
But when it was ended,
To their business all wended;
The pikes to their thieving,
The eels to good living;
The crab still went crooked,
The codfish was stupid:
Yet none of them ever
Heard sermon so clever!
* * * * *
A susceptible youth addressed the following highly classical letter to
a young lady whose poetical effusions, dated “Pine Woods,” had won his
heart:
Permittere me dicere, carissima puella, ego habeo visus vestris dulces
funes in papyrus. Ego lignum simile videre te plurimo. Ego nosco nos
lignum autumnus in amore cum unus alter. Tuus versus spectaculum genius
et tener cors. Ego lignum calcitro tuum durum cordatum patrem ex
portis, et ego possum duo, si ille erat non complacens et omnis rectus.
Volo ad vistare te, sed non nosco ubi Pinus Sylva sit. Prendam Erie
maledictum-viam? Ubi est id? Ero membrum legis, proximo vero, et tun,
cum pocket libro pleno stamporum, cano in manu, silko castore super
capito, ego non curo pro omnibus tauricanibus in Pino-silva, nam meum
canum est fors, et decutiam sua capita--sed sufficit.
Omnium pro te,
Unus qui amat.
FELIS ET MURES.
BY GREENE KENDRICK.
Felis sedit by a hole;
Intenta she, cum omne soul,
Prendere rats;
Mice cucurrerunt over the floor,
In numero, duo, tres, or more,
Obliti cats.
Felis saw them oculis;
“I’ll have them,” inquit she, “I guess,
Dum ludunt;”
Tunc illa 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, now beware!
Of hungry felis have a care
Nox et die;
Si hoc facis “verbum sat;”
Avoid a huge and hungry cat,
Studiose!
* * * * *
Ego nunquam audivi such terrible news,
As at this present tempus my senses confuse;
I am drawn for a miles, I must go cum Marte,
Et, communis ense, engage Bonapar-te;
But soon we will show to this Corsican vaunter,
That, though _times_ may change, BRITONS _never_ mutantur.
_Dr. Porson._
* * * * *
Tres fratres stolidi
Took a boat for Philippi;
Stormum surgebat
Et boatum overturnebat;
Omnes drownerunt
Qui swimmere non potuerunt
THE RHINE.
Oh the Rhine, the Rhine, the Rhine!
Comme c’est beau! wie schön! che bello!
He who quaffs thy Lust and 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’echo d’ Oberwesel!
Oh, que j’aime the Brüchen, when
The crammed Dampschiff 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 the motley crowd that flow,
With the universal “ja,”
And the Allgemeine “So!”
LATIN POEM.
FOR THE LEARNED.
Hei didulum, didulum, atque iterum didulum,
Felisque, Fidisque!
Vacca super Lunæ cornua prosiluit
Nescio qua catulus risit dulcedine ludi,
Abstunt et turpi lanx cochleare fuga!
FRENCH SONG.
Chantons une chanson à six sous,
La poche pleine de blé;
Vingt-quatre oiseaux noirs
Cuits dans un pâté!
Quand le pâté s’ouvrit,
Les oiseaux levaient leurs voix;
N’était-ce pas un joli plat,
Mettre devant le Roi?
ICH BIN DEIN.
ENGLISH, LATIN, GREEK, FRENCH AND GERMAN “MACARONI.”
In tempus old a hero lived
Qui loved puellas deux,
He ne pouvait pas quite to say
Which one amabat mieux.
Dit-il lui-même, un beau matin,
“Non possum both avoir;
Sed si address Amanda Anne,
Then Kate and I have war!”
Amanda habet argent coin
Sed Kate has aureas curls
Et both sunt very agathæ
Et quite formosæ girls.
Enfin, the youthful anthropos
Philoun the duo maids,
Resolved proponere ad Kate
Avant cet evening’s shades.
Procedens then to Kate’s domo,
Il trouve Amanda there,
Kai quite forgot his late resolves
Both sunt so goodly fair.
Sed, smiling on the new tapis,
Between puellas twain,
Cœpit to tell his vœux to Kate
Dans un poëtique strain.
Mais, glancing ever and anon
At fair Amanda’s eyes,
Illæ non possunt dicere
Pro which he meant his sighs.
Each virgo heard his demi vow
With cheeks as rouge as wine,
And, offering each a milk-white hand,
Both whispered “Ich bin dein.”
MACARONIC ADVERTISEMENT.
An inn-keeper in Germany sets forth the accommodations of his house in
the following lines, inscribed upon one of its windows:
In questa casa trovarete
Toutes les choses que vous souhaitez;
Vinum bonum, costas, carnes,
Neat post-chaise, and horse and harness.
ANN HATHAWAY.
(PROBABLY NOT SHAKESPEARE’S.)
Would ye be taught, ye feathered throng,
With love’s sweet notes to grace your song,
To charm the heart in thrilling lay,
Listen to Ann Hathaway.
She hath a way to sing so clear,
Phœbus might, listening, stoop and hear:
To melt the sad, make blithe the gay,
And nature charm, Ann hath a way.
She hath a way,
Ann Hathaway.
When Envy’s tongue and Rancor’s tooth
Do soil and bite fair worth and truth,
And merit to distress betray,
To soothe the soul, Ann hath a way.
She hath a way to chase despair;
To heal all grief, to cure all care,
Turn foulest night to fairest day,
Thou knowest, fond heart, Ann hath a way,
She hath a way,
Ann Hathaway.
Tell not of gems the Orient list;
The diamond, topaz, amethyst,
The emerald mild, the ruby gay;
Talk of my gem Ann Hathaway.
She hath a way with her bright eye,
Their various lustre to defy;
The jewel she, and the foil they,
So sweet to look Ann hath a way.
She hath a way,
Ann Hathaway.
But to my fancy were it given
To rate her charms, I’d call it heaven;
For, though a mortal made of clay,
Angels might love Ann Hathaway.
She hath a way so to control
And rapture the imprisoned soul,
And love and truth so to display
That to be heaven Ann hath a way.
She hath a way,
Ann Hathaway.
INSTRUCTIVE FABLES.
THE DOG AND THE SPARE RIB.--A mastiff crossing a bridge and
bearing in his mouth a piece of meat, suddenly swallowed the meat. He
immediately observed that the shadow of the aforesaid in the water had
disappeared.
_Moral_: We learn from this fable that life is but a shadow.
THE ASS AND THE LOCOMOTIVE.--A donkey one day was quietly
munching thistles when he heard the screaming whistle of a locomotive.
Pricking up his ears, he started into a gallop and raced across lots,
with his tail high in the air.
_Moral_: This fable teaches what an ass he was.
THE MOUSE AND THE CAT.--A mouse once peeped from his hole and
saw a cat. The cat was looking the other way, and happened not to see
the mouse.
Nobody killed.
_Moral_: This little fable doesn’t teach anything.
PRONUNCIATION.
The difficulty of applying rules to the pronunciation of our language
may be illustrated in two lines, wherein the combination of the letters
_ough_ is pronounced in no less than seven different ways, viz: as
_o_, _uf_, _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.
And in the subjoined couplets, which should be read rhymingly:
Peasant Arcadian, guiding the plough,
Loam on your garments, your aspect is rough.
Peasant imprudent, I hear you’ve a cough:
Do you feel sure you’re clad warm enough?
Home to your cottage, and bend o’er the trough,
Kneading the loaves of digestible dough.
Though the bread’s heavy, unsweetened and tough,
Well sharpened teeth can go easily through.
And the opposite difficulty, which sometimes occurs, of determining
the sense of a word from its pronunciation, is shown in the following
verses:
Write, we know, is written right,
When we see it written w-r-i-t-e;
But when we see it written r-i-g-h-t,
We know it is not written right.
For write, to have it written right,
Must not be written r-i-g-h-t, or r-i-t-e,
Nor yet must it be written w-r-i-g-h-t,
But w-r-i-t-e, for so ’tis written right.
* * * * *
Some one asks: “If W-o-r-c-e-s-t-e-r is pronounced Wooster, wouldn’t
r-o-r-c-e-s-t-e-r be an excellent way to spell rooster?”
That is “the English of it,” and, on the same principle--whatever
it is--C-h-o-l-m-o-n-d-e-l-e-y is pronounced Chumley;
M-i-c-h-i-l-i-m-a-c-i-n-a-c, Mackinaw; M-a-r-j-o-r-i-b-a-n-k-s,
Marchbank; L-e-i-c-e-s-t-e-r, Lester; N-o-r-w-i-c-h, Norrij, and
C-o-l-o-n-e-l, Curnel.
The ways of English pronunciation are, indeed, past finding out.
So are the secret motives of those who, having once adopted a false
pronunciation, adhere to it in the face of all precept and example;
who persist in calling Garibaldi, Gar-i-bawld-i; guipure, gim-pure;
alpaca, al-a-pac-a; and a polonaise, a polo-nay. Of this class was the
young person of Boston--she _couldn’t_ have been a young person of
BOSTON!--who, passing out of an Art Gallery with a friend not
long since, read aloud the inscription beneath a statuette of Psyche,
and pronounced it Pi-sish. Her friend mildly suggesting the true
pronunciation, the young person rejoined: “I know it. Some folks call
it Si-kee, and some Pi-sish. I like Pi-sish the best.”
THE QUESTION.
It is said that when a young lady enters society in one of our leading
Eastern cities, the question invariably asked about her, by those
who have not met her, is, in New York, “How much is she worth?” in
Baltimore, “How does she look?” in Boston, “What does she know?” in
Philadelphia, “_Who_ is she?”
ALLITERATION.
The best specimen of alliteration in the English language is, perhaps,
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,
Kinsmen kill kindred--kindred kinsmen kill.
Labor low levels longest, loftiest lines,--
Men march ’mid mounds, ’mid moles, ’mid murderous mines.
Now noisy, noxious, numbers notice naught
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 we warfare! Wherefore welcome were
Xerxes, Ximenes, Xanthus, Xavier!
Yield, yield, ye youths; ye yeomen yield your yell!
Zeno’s, Zarpater’s, Zoroaster’s zeal,
Attracting all, arms against arms appeal.
A droll example of French alliteration is the following inquiry as to
the efficacy of a certain remedy:
“Ton thé, a-t-il oté ta toux?”
One of the neatest of ACROSTICS was written by Desmond Ryan,
for the _London Musical World_:
Art and Genius burn within her,
Dearest fondling of the Graces!
Every charm is centered in her;
Like a poet’s page her face is!
In her voice the lark is thrilling--
Now to weep the heart is willing--
And now with joy and hope ’tis filling!
Praised, admired, two worlds all hail her--
Artless, pure, no tongues assail her!
Trust, love, triumph, never fail her!
Tell me, sooth, whose praise all that is?
I say, ADELINA PATTI’S!
But apropos of ingenuity, the author of the following exquisite poem
seems, without half trying, to have distanced all competitors.
Many years ago, twenty-five or thirty, perhaps, two Cincinnati editors
engaged in a newspaper controversy, which was, for a long time,
conducted with all candor and courtesy. At length, however, one of them
so far forgot himself as to become first personal, then scurrilous,
then virulent; and the other, at an early stage of this radical change,
quietly withdrew from the contest. Editor No. One thereupon indulged
in loud pæans of victory: he had spiked his adversary’s guns, put him
to rout, utterly demolished him. While he was in this complacent frame
of mind, he received from an anonymous contributor a seasonable poem
on SPRING, which he published with a eulogium on its beauty,
and a warmly-expressed wish that he might often hear from its gifted
author:
SPRING.
The genial Spring once more with chaplets crowned,
Has showered her choicest blessings all around.
Each silent valley, and each verdant lawn,
Enriched with flowers, looks smiling as the dawn;
Demure and modest here the violet grows,
In yonder garden blooms the blushing rose:
To these the lilac adds her fragrant dower
Of perfume cherished by the sun and shower:
Reviving Flora walks the world, a queen
Of kingdoms peerless as a fairy scene.
Far o’er the hills, in many a graceful line,
The rainbow blossoms of the orchard shine.
How softly mingled all their tints unite,
Embalm the air, and bless the grateful sight!
Sweet voices now are heard on every tree,
The breeze, the bird, the murmur of the bee;
And down the cliff, where rocks oppose in vain,
Runs the clear stream in music to the plain.
In noisy groups, far from their southern home,
Now ’round the lofty spire the swallows roam;
The fearless robin builds, with glossy leaves,
Her fragile nest beneath the farmer’s eaves;
Embowered in woods the partridge makes her bed
With silken moss o’er tender osiers spread:
Each happy bird expands his dappled wings,
Soars with his gentle mate and sweetly sings.
The sounds of early husbandry arise,
In pleasing murmurs, to the pale blue skies;
Shrill floats the ploughman’s whistle, while he speeds
Along the yielding earth his patient steeds.
Joyous the life which tills the pregnant soil,
And sweet the profits of the farmer’s toil:
Content, as smiling as an angel’s face,
Keeps peaceful vigil ’round his dwelling-place;
And gentle Hope, and Love, forever bright,
Smiling like seraphs in their bowers of light,
Salute his mornings, and embalm each night.
A few days passed, and this self-complacent gentleman had the
satisfaction of reading in a Boston paper that the editor of _The
Star in the West_ had fully justified the acrostic contained in a
late beautiful poem on SPRING, by publishing and praising it
in his paper.
EXTEMPORE SPEAKING.
It is no small thing to be called suddenly to address a public meeting
of any sort, and to find all your wits gone wool-gathering, when
you most require their services. Such being the case, and standing
admitted, the following speech of a compulsory order, at the opening of
a free hospital, is recommended as a model:
Gentlemen--ahem! I--I--I rise to say--that is, I wish to propose a
toast--wish to propose a toast. Gentlemen, I think that you’ll all
say--ahem--I think, at least, that this toast is, as you’ll all say,
the toast of the evening--toast of the evening. Gentlemen, I belong to
a good many of these things--and I say, gentlemen, that this hospital
requires no patronage--at least, you don’t want any recommendation.
You’ve only got to be ill--got to be ill. Another thing--they are
all locked up--I mean they are all shut up separate--that is, they
have all got separate beds--separate beds. Now, gentlemen, I find
by the report (turning over the leaves in a fidgety manner), I
find, gentlemen, that from the year seventeen--no, eighteen--no,
ah, yes, I’m right,--eighteen hundred and fifty--no, it’s a three,
thirty-six--eighteen hundred and thirty-six, no--less than one
hundred and ninety-three millions--no--ah? (to a committee-man at his
side), what? thank you!--thank you, yes--one hundred and ninety-three
thousand, two hundred and thirty-one! Gentlemen, I beg to propose:
Success to this Institution!
* * * * *
If no selections from the writings of our modern humorists, Artemus
Ward, P. V. Nasby, Mark Twain, and others, grace these pages, the
omission arises partly from the difficulty of selecting and partly from
the fact that these writings are only too well known for our purpose.
While the compiler has, doubtless, brought her readers face to face
with many of their old acquaintances, she naturally prefers not to
introduce those whom they are certain to meet every day at their own
tables. “There must be a line drawn somewhere.”
But there is a word to be said about K. N. Pepper, whose irresistibly
droll papers were contributed to the _Knickerbocker Magazine_,
early in the ’50’s. He was, in fact, pioneer in that region of
illiterature, in which so many others, since he withdrew, have
apparently settled for life. Artemus Ward learned from him (and never
hesitated to give him credit for the original idea,) the trick of bad
spelling, and caught many of his fantastic ways of thought. His Betsey
Jane was Pepper’s Hannah Gane amplified,--but the twins, and the son
who read the _Clipper_, and the daughter who delighted in the
_Ledger_, were original Wards. (And what a guardian they had, in
their hi-minded father!)
K. N. Pepper describes in the _Knickerbocker_, his first visit to
New York. He arrived there on the twenty-fifth of November, and that
anniversary suggested many solemn reflections. “I thinc,” he pensively
remarks, “that I see the British evacuating of the sitty. I thinc I se
them gathering up their goods and things. I thinc I hear them cuss, and
then I thinc I doant.”
Very suddenly he retired from the field, leaving his laurels to be
picked up and won by others, and presently disappeared from public
view. But it is possible that Mr. James W. Morris, of Onondaga County,
N. Y., could, if he chose, furnish some information concerning him.[4]
The Widow Bedott, too, was precursor and prototype of Miss Slimmins,
Josiah Allen’s wife, and all of that ilk; and, among her imitators,
has, thus far, had no equal. Her prose was a model of absurdity; but
there are no words to characterize her poetry.
Listen, as she condoles with a widower, on his recent bereavement:
Sickness and afflictions is trials sent
By the will of a wise creation,
And always ought to be underwent
With fortitude and resignation.
Then mourn not for your pardner’s death,
But to forgit endevver,
For, sposen she hadn’t a died so soon,
She couldn’t a lived forever.
And when, at last, she secured a widower of her own, the Rev. Shadrack
Sniffles, how jubilant her muse became:
The heart that was scornful and cold as a stun,
Has surrendered at last to the fortinit one.
Farewell to the miseries and griefs I have had!
I’ll never desert thee, O Shadrack, my Shad.
The wonderful puns and repartees of Charles Lamb and Sydney Smith,
prince and king of wits! are open to the same objection as those
alluded to above: they are only too familiar, already. But as that
is equivalent to saying that they have charmed only too many people;
turned too many sorrowful or wearied minds out of their ordinary
channels; excited too much healthful and delightful laughter; we are,
after all, not disposed to complain. Rather let us, Sancho-Panza-like,
invoke a benison, first on Cervantes himself; then on the English
Hood and Hook, and Moore and Sheridan and Lamb, on the three Smiths,
Sydney and James and Horace; on Dickens, Thackeray and Jerrold, and
Edmund Lear; on our own Irving, Derby, Whicher, Morris, Brown, the
Clarkes; our Lowell, Saxe, Holmes, Strong; our Warner, Cozzens,
Dodgson, Gilbert, Locke, Bret Harte; our Grail Hamilton, and our Phebe
Carey; and on all the named and unnamed, known and unknown writers,
through whom have come to us the exquisite sense of fun, the blessing
of irrepressible mirth, and of hearty, wholesome, innocent, delicious
laughter!
And if, despite our struggles, we are accused, as we shall be, and
justly, of having told some more than twice-told tales, of quoting
already hackneyed quotations charity will urge in our behalf (and, let
us trust, not vainly), Burns’ pathetic plea, reminding the critics,
that while
“What’s done they” easily “compute.
They know not what’s resisted.”
“SOUND AND” UNSOUND, “SIGNIFYING NOTHING.”
A young gentleman of Rochester, suspecting that the poetical enthusiasm
of certain of his young lady acquaintances was not genuine; that
they appreciated the musical jingle of verses, without in the least
regarding the sentiment, laid a wager with one of his friends, that he
could write a set of stanzas, which should not contain one grain of
sense, and yet would be just as warmly applauded by those young ladies
as the most eloquent poetry.
He won the wager. (But this occurred many years ago. There are no such
young ladies in Rochester now).
See! the fragrant twilight whispers
O’er the orient western sky,
While Aurora’s verdant vespers
Tell her evening reign is nigh.
Now a louder ray of darkness,
Carols o’er the effulgent scene,
And the lurid light falls markless
On the horizon’s scattered screen.
Night is near, with all his horrors,
Sweetly swerving in his breast,
And the ear of fancy borrows
Morning mists to lull the west.
Ere he comes in all his splendor,
Hark! the milky way is seen,
Sighing like a maiden tender
In her bower of ruby green.
Such a scene, ah! who can list to,
And not saddened, silent, seek
To unveil the burning vista
Of Diana’s raven cheek?
Thus tremulous, and ever dear,
Robed in repellant rapture;
Our hours shall stay, swift as the year,
Illumed by Cupid’s capture!
And when hyenal joys are ours,
And memory soars above us,
Hope shall retrace for future years
The love of all who love us.
Something of the same character is the subjoined:
EVENING SONG.
Brightly blue the stars shine o’er us,
While the sinking sun ascends
To the wide spread waves before us,
And a pleasing softness lends.
Homeward now the aged plough-boys
Wing their way o’er hill and dale,
And the laughter-loving cow goes
Tripping lightly down the vale.
Gentle zephyrs’ ink-stained fingers
Point the hour-hand of the clock,
There the warbling sheep-fold lingers--
Save it from the cruel hawk!
Thus excoriate the hours,
Till the red volcano’s powers
Kindle on the hearth its fires:
Poets! dissipate your lyres!
* * * * *
In the following musical poem, the letter e does duty so well for all
the other vowels, as to suggest the idea that our ordinary lavish use
of them is a piece of extravagance!
When the September eves were new,
When fresh the western breezes blew,
When meek Selene, gem-besprent,
The dew her crested jewels lent;
We met, Belle, where the beeches grew,
When the September eves were new.
When the September eves were new,
Endless, meseemed, the sweets we knew!
Sweet fell the dew; sweet swept the breeze;
Sweet were the templed beechen trees;
The spell yet sweeter, tenderer grew,
When the September eves were new!
When the September eves were eld,
The templed beechen trees were felled;
Keen-edged the western breezes blew;
Crestless the meek Selene grew;
The fettered dew her jewels held,
When the September eves were eld.
When the September eves were eld,
Fled were the scenes we erst beheld--
Reft were the tender scenes we knew;--
The desert, where the beeches grew!
Yet, Belle, we sweeter secrets held,
Ere the September eves were eld!
* * * * *
The construction of the following verses, from which the letter s is
omitted, shows that our language is not of necessity a succession of
sibilant sounds, as it is generally supposed to be:
Oh! come to-night, for naught can charm
The weary time when thou’rt away.
Oh, come! the gentle moon hath thrown
O’er bower and hall her quivering ray.
The heather bell hath mildly flung
From off her fairy leaf the bright
And diamond dew-drop that had hung
Upon that leaf a gem of light.
Then come, love, come!
To-night the liquid wave hath not,
(Illumined by the moonlit beam
Playing upon the lake beneath,
Like frolic in a fairy dream--)
The liquid wave hath not, to-night,
In all her moonlit pride, a fair
Gift-like to them that, on thy lip,
Do breathe and laugh and home it there.
Then come, love, come!
To-night, to-night, my gentle one,
The flower-bearing Amra tree
Doth long, with fragrant moan, to meet
The love-lip of the honey-bee.
But not the Amra tree can long
To greet the bee, at evening light,
With half the deep, fond love _I_ long
To meet my Nama here to-night.
Then come, love, come!
What a boon would a volume of poems, modeled on the above principle of
architecture, be to perthonth troubled with a lithp; whose reading at
present (through the perverseness of the English language), sounds thus:
Thweetly murmurth the breethe from the thea,
Thoothing my thoul to thlumberth,
Fond memorieth bearing to me,
Of the patht, in endleth numberth.
I thigh ath I think how yearth have thped,
How joy hath left me to thorrow;
My heart now thleepeth the thleep of the dead;
Will it waken to gladneth to-morrow?
THE NIMBLE BANK-NOTE.
“And he rose with a sigh,
And he said, ‘Can this be?’”
(_Motto chosen chiefly for its inappropriateness._)
One evening at the house of a friend of mine, while we were seated at
the table, Mr. Baker, my friend’s husband, absently feeling in his
vest pocket, found a five dollar note which he had no recollection of
putting there.
“Hallo!” he exclaimed, “that is no place for you. I should have put you
in my pocketbook. Here, wife, don’t you want some ready money?” and he
threw the note across the table to her.
“Many thanks,” she replied; “money is always acceptable, although I
have no present need of it.” She folded the note and put it under the
edge of the tea-tray, and then proceeded to pour out the tea and attend
to the wants of her guests.
At her right sat Mrs. Easton, or Aunt Susan, whom we all knew as an
acquaintance who, from time to time, spent a week with Mrs. Baker. Her
visit was just at an end, and she was to return home that evening.
As Mrs. Baker was pouring her tea, it occurred to her that she was
in her aunt’s debt for certain small matters, and when she had the
opportunity, she pushed the note under her plate, saying:
“Here, auntie, take this five dollars in part payment of my debt.”
“Very well,” she replied, “but the money does not belong to me. I owe
you fifteen dollars, my dear Grace, which you lent me last Saturday. I
had to pay the taxes on my little home, and had not the ready money,
and Grace lent it to me,” explained Aunt Susan.
Grace, an orphan, was a cousin of Mrs. Baker. She and her brother Frank
boarded with her, and made a very pleasant addition to the family
circle. She was studying music, and her brother was a clerk in a
mercantile establishment.
As soon as Aunt Susan received the note, she handed it to Grace, saying:
“I will give you this now on account, and the rest as soon as I get it.”
“All right,” answered Grace, laughing, “and since we all seem in
the humor of paying our debts, I will follow suit. Frank, I owe you
something for music you bought me; here is part of it,” and she threw
the bank-note across the table to her brother, who sat opposite.
We were all highly amused to see how the note wandered around the table.
“This is a wonderful note,” said Mr. Baker; “I only wish somebody owed
me something, and I owed somebody something, so that I might come into
the ring.”
“You can,” said Frank. “I owe Mrs. Baker--or you, it’s all the
same--for my board; I herewith pay you part of it.”
Amid general laughter, Mr. Baker took the note and playfully threw it
to his wife again, saying:
“It’s yours again, Lucy, because what belongs to me belongs to you. It
has completed the round, and we have all had the benefit of it.”
“And now it must go around again,” replied she gayly. “I like to see
money circulate; it should never lie idle. Aunt Susan you take it. Now
I have paid you ten dollars.”
“Dear Grace, here is another five dollars on my account,” said Aunt
Susan, handing it to Grace.
“And you Frank, have paid ten dollars for the music you bought me,”
said Grace, handing it to her brother.
“And I pay you ten dollars for my board,” he continued, and the note
once more rested in Mr. Baker’s hands.
The exchanges were quick as thought, and we were convulsed with
laughter.
“Was there ever so wonderful an exchange?” exclaimed Grace.
“It’s all nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Baker.
“Not in the least,” answered his wife. “It’s all quite right.”
“Certainly,” said Frank; “when the money belonged to you, you could
dispose of it as you would; I have the same right; it is a fair kind of
exchange, though very uncommon.”
“It shows the use of money,” said Aunt Susan. “It makes the circuit of
the world and brings its value to every one who touches it.”
“And this note has not finished its work yet, as I will show you, my
dear, if you will give it to me again, said Mrs. Baker to her husband.
“I present you with this five dollar note,” said Mr. Baker.
“And I give it to you, Aunt Susan--I owed you fifteen dollars, and I
have paid my debt.”
“You have, my dear friend, without doubt; and now, my dear Grace, I pay
you my indebtedness, with many thanks for your assistance.”
“I take it with thanks, Aunt Susan,” replied Grace; “and now the time
has come when this wonder-working, this inexhaustibly rich bank-note
must be divided, because I do not owe Frank five dollars more. How much
have I to pay you?”
“Two dollars and sixty-two cents,” replied Frank.
“Can you change it?”
“Let me see; sixty-two, thirty-eight, yes, there is the change; the
spell is broken, Grace, and you and I divide the spoils.”
“This bank-note beats all I ever saw. How much has it paid? Let us
count up,” said Grace. “Mrs. Baker gave Aunt Susan fifteen dollars,
which Aunt Susan gave me; I gave Frank twelve dollars and sixty-two
cents; Frank gave Mr. Baker ten dollars--altogether fifty-two dollars
and sixty-two cents.”
“It’s all nonsense, I tell you,” cried Mr. Baker, again; “you all owe
each other what you owed before.”
“You are deceived, my dear, by the rapid, unbroken race this little sum
has made; to me it is as clear as daylight,” replied Mrs. Baker.
“If it is all nonsense, how could the note which you gave Mrs. Baker,
if nothing to me or to you, be divided between us two?” asked Grace.
Mr. Baker did not seem to see it very clearly, but the others did,
and they often relate this little history for the amusement of their
friends.
THE RATIONALISTIC CHICKEN.
(_Inspecting its shell._)
BY J. S. STONE.
Most strange!
Most queer,--although most excellent a change!
Shades of the prison-house, ye disappear!
My fettered thoughts have won a wider range,
And, like my legs, are free;
No longer huddled up so pitiably:
Free now to pry and probe, and peep and peer,
And make these mysteries out.
Shall a free-thinking chicken live in doubt?
For now in doubt undoubtedly I am:
This Problem’s very heavy on my mind,
And I’m not one either to shirk or sham:
I won’t be blinded, and I won’t be blind.
Now, let me see:
First, I would know how did I get in _there_?
Then, where was I of yore?
Besides, why didn’t I get out before?
Dear me!
Here are three puzzles (out of plenty more)
Enough to give me pip upon the brain!
But let me think again.
How do I know I ever _was_ inside?
Now I reflect, it is, I do maintain,
Less than my reason, and beneath my pride,
To think that I could dwell
In such a paltry miserable cell
As that old shell.
Of course I couldn’t! How could _I_ have lain,
Body and beak and feathers, legs and wings,
And my deep heart’s sublime imaginings,
In there?
I meet the notion with profound disdain;
It’s quite incredible; since I declare
(And I’m a chicken that you can’t deceive)
_What I can’t understand I won’t believe._
Where _did_ I come from, then? Ah! where, indeed?
This is a riddle monstrous hard to read.
I have it! Why, of course,
All things are moulded by some plastic force,
Out of some atoms somewhere up in space,
Fortuitously concurrent anyhow;--
There, now!
That’s plain as is the beak upon my face.
What’s that I hear?
My mother cackling at me! Just her way,
So prejudiced and ignorant _I_ say;
So far behind the wisdom of the day.
What’s old I _can’t_ revere.
Hark at her. “You’re a silly chick, my dear,
That’s quite as plain, alack!
As is the piece of shell upon your back!”
How bigoted! upon my back, indeed!
I don’t believe it’s there,
For I can’t _see_ it: and I do declare,
For all her fond deceivin’,
_What I can’t see I never will believe in!_
A MEDLEY.
I only know 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; [B. Taylor.
How shall I live through all the days, [Mrs. Osgood.
All through a hundred years? [J. J. 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 blew, [Patmore.
To deck her dark brown hair, [B. 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! [Tennyson.
ANOTHER MEDLEY.
(WHO ARE THE AUTHORS?)
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
In every clime, from Lapland to Japan;
To fix one spark of beauty’s heavenly ray,
The proper study of mankind is man.
Tell, for you can, what is it to be wise,
Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain!
“The man of Ross,” each lisping babe replies,
And drags, at each remove a length’ning chain.
Ah, who can tell how hard it is to climb
Far as the solar walk, or milky way?
Procrastination is the thief of time,
Let Hercules himself do what he may.
’Tis education forms the common mind,
The feast of reason and the flow of soul;
I must be cruel only to be kind,
And waft a sigh from Indus to the pole.
Syphax! I joy to meet thee thus alone,
Where’er I roam, whatever lands I see;
A youth to fortune and to fame unknown,
In maiden meditation, fancy free.
Farewell! and wheresoe’er thy voice be tried,
Why to yon mountain turns the gazing eye?
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,
Whose beard descending, swept his aged breast;
Laugh where we must, be candid where we can,
Man never is, but always to be blest.
AND ANOTHER MEDLEY.
The moon was shining silver bright,
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow,
When freedom from her mountain height,
Exclaimed, “Now don’t be foolish, Joe!”
An hour passed by; the Turk awoke,
Ten days and nights with sleepless eye,
To hover in the sulphur smoke,
And spread its pall upon the sky.
His echoing axe the settlers swung,
He was a lad of high degree;
And deep the pearly caves among,
Sweet Mary, weep no more for me.
Loud roars the wild, inconstant blast,
And cloudless sets the sun at even;
When twilight dews are falling fast,
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven.
Oh, ever thus, from childhood’s hour,
By torch and trumpet fast arrayed,
Beneath yon ivy-mantled tower,
They lingered in the forest shade.
My love is like the red, red rose;
He bought a ring with posy true;
Deep terror then my vitals froze;
And, Saxon, I am Rhoderick Dhu!
LIFE.
Why all this toil for triumph of an hour?
[Young.
Life’s a short summer--man is but a flower;
[Dr. Johnson.
By turns we catch the fatal breath and die--
[Pope.
The cradle and the tomb, alas! so nigh.
[Prior.
To be is better far than not to be,
[Sewell.
Though all man’s life may seem a tragedy:
[Spencer.
But light cares speak when mighty griefs are dumb--
[Daniel.
The bottom is but shallow whence they come.
[Sir Walter Raleigh.
Your fate is but the common fate of all;
[Longfellow.
Unmingled joys may here no man befall;
[Southwell.
Nature to each allots his proper sphere,
[Congreve.
Fortune makes folly her peculiar care;
[Churchill.
Custom does often reason overrule,
[Rochester.
And throw a cruel sunshine on a fool.
[Armstrong.
Live well--how long or short permit to heaven;
[Milton.
They who forgive most shall be most forgiven,
[Bailey.
Sin may be clasped so close we cannot see its face--
[French.
Vile intercourse where virtue has no place,
[Sommerville.
Then keep each passion down, however dear.
[Thompson.
Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear;
[Byron.
Her sensual snares let faithless Pleasure lay,
[Smollet.
With craft and skill to ruin and betray,
[Crabbe.
Soar not too high to fall, but stoop to rise,
[Massinger.
We masters grow of all that we despise.
[Cowley.
Oh, then, renounce that impious self-esteem;
[Beattie.
Riches have wings; and grandeur is a dream.
[Cowper.
Think not ambition wise because ’tis brave,
[Sir Walter Davenant.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave,
[Gray.
What is ambition? ’Tis a glorious cheat.
[Willis.
Only destructive to the brave and great.
[Addison.
What’s all the gaudy glitter of a crown?
[Dryden.
The way to bliss lies not on beds of down.
[Francis Quarles.
How long we live, not years but actions tell;
[Watkins.
That man lives twice who lives the first life well.
[Herrick.
Make then, while yet you may, your God your friend.
[William Mason.
Whom Christians worship, yet not comprehend.
[Hill.
The trust that’s given guard, and to yourself be just;
[Dana.
For live we how we may, yet die we must.
[Shakespeare.
THE KEY.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES.
1. Cobweb. _M. A. R._
2. Thanks.
3. Of course I can! (Of Corsican.)
4. Maid of Orleans.
5. Because they have studded the heavens for centuries.
6. The winds blue, and the waves rose.
7. In violet.
8. They _leave out_ their summer dress.
9. Because I am the querist.
10. Penmanship. _English Paper._
11. Heather: weather. _Hearth and Home._
12. Nothing.
13. It contains all the letters of the alphabet.
14. A lawsuit.
15. His father was Enoch, who did not die.
16. Yes: he was the Daughter-of-Pharaoh’s son.
17. When Autumn is turning the leaves.
18. Bud-dhism.
19. Starch. (Star, sac, scar, tar, trash, act, arc, arch, art, ash,
rat, rash, chart, cart, cat, car, chat, cash, cast, crash, hart, hat.)
20. Ague. (Hague; league; plague.)
21. Lettuce, alone. (Let us alone!)
22. The moon.
23. A human being. _The Sphinx Riddle._
24. Noah.
25. Macaulay. _Rural New Yorker._
26. N R G.
27. M T.
28. O B C T.
29. X L N C.
30. L E G.
31. Dutch S.
32. French L.
33. K.
34. In the days of no A (Noah,) before U and I were born.
35. T.
36. Q.
37. It’s laudin’ ’em.
38. No man has three feet; a man has two feet more than no man:
therefore, a man has five feet.
39. A branch. _M. L. C._
40. Love Me Little: Love Me Long.
41. Ma mère. _E. P._
42. Amiable (Am I able?)
43. Conundrum.
44. Purcell. _M. D._
45. You sigh for a cipher, but I sigh for thee;
Oh, sigh for no cipher, but, oh, sigh for me;
And O, let my sigh for no cipher go,
But give sigh for sigh, for I sigh for you so!
46. Because they _axed_ him whether he would or no. (Horrid!)
47. He was out at midnight, _on a bust_.
48. 99⁹⁄₉.
49. The season is backward for potatoes.
50. One “wouldn’t do:” one “would do.”
51. When he owed (Oh’d) “for a lodge in some vast wilderness.”
52. The reindeer (The rain, dear!)
53. Red Wing. _M. A. R._
54. Insert a semicolon after “peacock,” after “comet,” after “cloud,”
&c.; finally, after “sun.”
55. Semicolon after “talked.”
56. Absence of body!
57. The year before was 1870; the year following was 1870, too.
58. Because they’d _fall out_, if they didn’t.
59. Io died (iodide) of potassium.
60. He named it Robinson for Robinson crew so!
61. They’ve been to sea.
62. By the _Sound_.
63. He wears his collar and _pants_.
64. Veil; vile or evil; Levi, live.
65. A pair of spurs.
66. The letter A.
67. Translate the fourth and fifth “_suis_,” _follow_. “Suis” comes
from _suivre_, as well as from _être_.
68. A mouse ran, full _but_,
Against my big _to_.
69. Mind your _I_!
70. Campbell’s Poems.
71. Thou tea-chest!
72. J’aime en silence (_six lances_.)
73. Who raw for (the) read, white, and blew!
74. G a. (G, grand; a, petit.)
75. Toad (to _ad_.)
76. Noon.
77. Insatiate (in sat I ate.)
78. Follow the English pronunciation of the syllables, allowing for the
cockneyish displacement of the letter h.
Thus: TONY’S ADDRESS TO MARY.
O Mary! Heave a sigh for me,
For me, your Tony true;
I am become as a man dumb,--
Oh, let Hymen prompt you! etc.
The eighth line is “Or eat a bit of pie.”
79. _____ _____
| | | |
|___|___|___|
| |
|___|
80. _________
| _|_ |
|_|_|_|_|
| |_|
|___|
81. XIII. (X, ^VIII.)
82. For convenience let us call the eight-gallon measure, a; the
five-gallon, b; and the three-gallon, c.
From a fill c, and empty into b. Fill c again; and, from it, fill b.
Then empty b into a, and c, (which has in it one gallon,) into b. Fill
c again, and empty into b, which now contains four gallons; while a,
also, contains four.
83. One bushel and one-ninth.
84. Nescio. Ik weet niet. Je ne sais pas. No sà. Non so. Ich weiss
nicht. Ninis cume. I dinna ken. I DON’T KNOW!
Professor Robinson in his Algebra attempts it, but not satisfactorily,
so long as letters may be made to represent any number, or any
other number, at discretion. Let us call it in this particular
phase--(unfortunately it has others),--the Matrimonial Equation: “For,
these two are one.”
85. The stranger had eaten eight-thirds of a loaf: seven-thirds
belonging to one of the Arabs, and only one-third to the other.
86. He lost four dollars and the actual cost of the boots.
87. 5 herring @ 2_d._ = 10_d._
1 “ @ ½ = ½
6 “ @ ¼ = 1½
-- -----------
12 “ 12_d._
88. Endless.
89. Cares: caress.
90. Onion.
91. Advice.
92. When he has grounds for complaint.
93. For divers reasons.
94. For sundry purposes.
95. “The quality of Mercy (Mersey) is not strained.” _H. B. S._
96. “If the grate be empty, put coal on. If the grate be full, stop
putting coal on.” So said one, but another replied “How can I put coal
on, when there is such a high fender?”
97. Because he is no better.
98. When it becomes a lady.
99. The letters of the alphabet.
100. _One_ was _going_ to St. Ives’: he met the others.
101. A little too long to wait! (A _little_ 2, _long_ 2, 8.)
_E. S. D._
102. The Image that Michal put in David’s bed. I Samuel, ch. xix. Douay
version, xix ch. I Kings.
103. His sister. The blind beggar was a woman.
104. The man who thanked Heaven was the lady’s father.
105. “That man” was the rhymer’s son.
106. Hirsute.
107. The letter s.
108. Because it is always _Snowdon_.
109. They should go to Fall River and Salem.
110. Novice.
111. Burns. _Hearth and Home._
112. Crabbe. “ “ “
113. Bryant. “ “ “
114. Gray. “ “ “
115. Beecher. “ “ “
116. Homer.
117. Hood.
118. Southey.
119. Coleridge.
120. Goldsmith.
121. Humboldt.
122. Mulock.
123. Lowell.
124. Virgil.
125. Akenside.
126. Wordsworth.
127. Steele.
128. Shakespeare.
129. Cowper.
130. WILLis.
131. Barry Cornwall.
132. Landon.
133. Landor.
134. Leigh Hunt.
135. Walpole.
136. Palmerston.
137. Russell.
138. Lytton.
139. Carlyle.
140. Seward.
141. W(h)ittier.
142. Chatter(t)on.
143. Because he has tenants.
144. It is a step fa(r)ther.
145. A draft.
146. A pack of cards.
147. A cord of wood.
148. Taking leave of things as they go.
149. His reaper.
150. It was Hamlet’s Uncle, who “did murder most foul.”
151. The Human Body.--^1 The chest; ^2 the eye-_lids_; ^3 the
knee-_caps_; ^4 the ear-_drums_; ^5 the nails; ^6 the _soles_ of the
feet; ^7 the muscles; ^8 the _palms_ of the hands; ^9 the limbs; ^10
two lips; ^11 the hips; ^12 the calves; ^13 hairs; ^14 the heart; ^15
the eye-_lashes_; ^16 the temples; ^17 arms; ^18 veins; ^19 insteps;
^20 eyes and nose; ^21 pupils; ^22 tendons.
^a The palate; ^b the _roof_ (of the mouth;) ^c the _bridge_ (of the
nose;) ^d the shoulder-_blades_; ^e the iris (of each eye;) ^f the
skull; ^g the spinal _column_; ^h the tongue; ^i the eye-_balls_, &c.,
^jjj the stirrup, anvil and hammer (bones of the ear,) ^k locks (of
hair).
152. Truant.
153. Scarecrow.
154. Intimate.
155. Codicil.
156. The hair.
157. Sixteen (those who were blind of both eyes, were also blind of one
eye, &c.)
158. Because we have a W(h)ittier.
159. Because that was his name!
160. Because the other forty are Lent.
161. Now here, nowhere.
162. Ah no! (Arno.)
163. Unquestionably.
164. The road.
165. Columbus.
166. Met-a-physician.
167. Sackcloth.
168. The one who attends “patien_ts_ on a monument.”
169. Rather he killed the gorilla.
170. She is a musing, b coming, d lighting, n chanting.
171. She is _Sad you see_.
172. She is _Fair I see_.
173. “The judicious Hooker.”
174. Yesterday.
175. Sunday; all the rest are _week_ days.
176. Campbell. _W. M. Praed._
177. Seldom, (cell-dumb.)
178. His equal.
179. Just ice.
180. The King’s Highway.
181. Postage.
182. Baking--_a king_, _b king_, _a kin_.
183. Strawberry.
184. A Mushroom.
185. Fault.
186. A ditch.
187. When they chatter.
188. Short.
189. A pillow.
190. _Ad_vice.
191. Heat; you can _catch_ cold.
192. Sausage. _Rural New Yorker._
193. Hemlock.
194. Heroine; hero; her; he.
195. A blush.
196. He took his cup and saucer.
197. The cat’ll eat it.
198. B natural.
199. B sharp.
200. If the stairs were a way, I would go down stairs.
201. Nameless.
202. He “cut it too little”; that is, he did not cut it enough.
203. TOBACCO.
204. Because of the sandwiches (sand which is) there.
205. How did the sandwiches get there? Ans. There Ham dwelt, and there
his descendants were bred and mustered (bread and mustard.)
206. Was there any butter on the sandwiches? Ans. No; Ham took only his
wife; he took none of his family BUT _her_.
207. His was made _of_ Gophir wood, and they are made _to_ go for wood.
208. “Noah went _forth_.”
209. (M) _a jest_ (y).
210. “Dreaming often;” dreaming of _ten_.
211. Yes; “perhaps” _is_ most like maybe, or a bee in May.
212. The third gave it her ring, which Puss _couldn’t_ eat.
213. On the other side.
214. Eusebius, (You see by us.)
215. Inch; chin.
216. Envy; (N. V.)
217. Pardon.
218. Cape, caper.
219. Ten, tenor.
220. Foe, four.
221. Oak, ochre.
222. Sow, soar.
223. Fee, fear.
224. Roe, roar.
225. Sue, sewer.
226. Be, beer.
227. Lie, lyre.
228. Beau, bore.
229. Stowe, store.
230. Sea, seer.
231. Cough, coffer.
232. Loaf, loafer.
233. Port, porter.
234. Pie, pyre.
235. Bat, batter.
236. Dee, deer.
237. Tart, Tartar.
238. Tea, tier.
239. Ye, year, yeast.
240. Bow, boar, boast.
241. Fee, fear, feast.
242. Pay, pear, paste.
243. Lea, Lear, least.
244. Bow, rower, roast.
245. Bee, bier, beast.
246. E, ear, east.
247. Co., core, coast.
248. Poe, pour, post.
249. Go, gore, ghost.
250. Weigh, weigher, waste.
251. “Dear Nephew;
See, my coal on.
Uncle John.”
“Dear Uncle;
Coal on!
James.”
252. He is above doing a bad action.
253. Because a hen lays only one egg a day, and a ship _lays to_.
254. Because you can.
255. ^1 corn, ^2 needles, ^3 pins, ^4 buckles, ^5 canals, ^6 combs,
^7 rivers, ^8 roses, ^9 clocks, ^10 potatoes, ^11 stars,
^12 shoes. _Hearth and Home._
256. The whale that swallowed Jonah.
257. Bunyan--a bunion.
258. A girl is a lass, and alas is an interjection.
259. Learning to go alone.
260. The door-bell.
261. White kids.
262. He would want muzzlin’.
263. When it lies in a well.
264. Three: Sirius and the two pointers.
265. _Hailing_ omnibuses.
266. All the rest are in audible.
267. Because he is not a(p)parent.
268. A river.
269. Neither: both burn shorter.
270. Because it keeps its hands before its face; and, though full of
good works, it is wholly unconscious of them, and always running itself
down.
271. Manslaughter; man’s laughter.
272. _Mo_nosyllable.
273. A bed.
274. (P)shaw!
275. The sons raise meat there. (The sun’s rays meet there.)
276. Innocence Abroad, by Mark Twain (In no sense, a broad).
277. Facetiously.
278. Philip the Great.
279. Bug-bear.
280. Wat Tyler Will Rufus.
281. Bloomer (err; her; Herr).
282. Clio.
283. Cheat; heat; eat; at; chat; ache.
284. One; none.
285. Arrow-head.
286. A man of deceit
Can best counter_feit_;
So, as everything goes,
He can best count ’er toes.
287. Balaam’s Ass.
288. A kiss.
289. The _five_ vowels.
290. Dotage.
291. Seaward.
292. Mimic.
293. Disgraceful.
294. The first made musical instruments; the second was a baggage-man;
the third was employed in a gas-factory; and the fourth made candles.
295. Cod.
296. The postman.
297. Cowslip.
298. Love.
299. The axle-tree.
300. Because it is farthest from the bark.
301. Because his business makes him sell-fish.
302. Pearlash.
303. If he was a _won_der, she was a _Tu_dor.
304. LION
INTO
OTTO
NOON.
305. A cock.
306. Enigma.
307. Crabbe, Shelley, Moore.
308. Goldsmith, Locke.
309. Campbell, Knight, Day, Foote.
310. His face.
311. BLIND.
312. Young, Gay, Hood, Lamb, Field, Gray, Fox, Hunt, Horne, Lingard,
Wordsworth, Steele.
313. Marvell, Hilarius, Akenside, Manley, Hyde, Pope.
314. Aërial.
315. Bass, perch, roast pig, turkey, fillet, celery, gooseberry
pudding, dates, Hamburg grapes.
316. Fire-fly.
317. The nose.
318. _Wal_nut.
319. Pea-nut.
320. Butternut.
321. _Beech_nut.
322. Chestnut.
323. Cocoanut.
324. The morning glory.
325. Snow drops.
326. Spinach.
327. The passion flower.
328. The spruce tree.
329. Because he has Adam’s Needle, Jacob’s Ladder, and Solomon’s Seal.
330. Catnip and Henbane.
331. Heart-ache.
332. Cashmere.
333. Season.
334. A drum.
335. Chain, china, chin.
336. Charge, charger.
337. Scamp, scamper.
338. Lad, ladder.
339. Tell, teller.
340. Barb, barber.
341. Din, dinner.
342. I, ire.
343. Yew, ewer.
344. Owe, oar.
345. Crescent, (cress-scent.)
346. The 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 12th, 16th, 18th, 19th, 22nd, 23rd,
24th, 26th, 27th, 30th, in the circle, were Jews.
347. Honesty is the best policy. (On ST, etc.)
348. [Illustration: (‡ A square enclosing a second square. The second
square is set at a 45 degree angle compared to the first square.)]
349. The Tongue.
350. Bothwell. _St. Nicholas._
351. A little more than _kin_ and less than _kind_.
352. Clink, link, ink, chair, hair, air.
353. (1) D-ranged; (2) C-girt; (3) D-lighted; (4) N-hammered; (5)
D-tested; (6) R-gone-out: (7) G-owed; (8) K-dense; (9) O-void;
(10) S-pied; (11) B-held; (12) C-bored; (13) X-pensive;
(14) D-famed. _St. Nicholas._
354. Wake robin.
355. Fill blanks with: straining, training, raining; dashing, plashing,
marching, arching.
356. Lily.
357. Ivanhoe. _St. Nicholas._
358. Aries,--_we_aries. The enigma refers to the period when Taurus
(the name of whose principal star Aldebaran signifies “He went before,
or led the way,”) was First Constellation. Next, Aries, always First
Sign, was also First Constellation; and now the Constellation Pisces
“leads the year.”
359. Tissue.
360. Because it is written with great E’s.
361. Because it is written with two great E’s--(_too_ great ease.)
362. Trace a five-pointed star, and plant a tree at each extreme point,
and at each point of intersection.
363. In naught extenuate, and set _down_ naught in
malice. _E. S. D._
364. That boy lied.
365. Fill the blanks with heart, story, art, tory.
366. Fill the blanks with plover, lover, over, ver; glowing, lowing,
owing, wing.
367. “For thou art as deaf as a p-o-s-t.”
368. April: (ape, rill).
369. He mispronounced the word “full.” “You’re a fool, Moon,” said he.
370. The pronoun “it,” which may stand for anything on earth, or under
or above the earth, seems to be the only possible solution. In the
first line it stands, perhaps, for the utmost limit of space; in the
second, for the centre of the earth, etc.
371. Dogmatic.
372. Cambyses.
373. About 117.7 feet. (Find the radius of a circle whose area is
43,560 square feet.).--_Prof. Eaton, of Packer Institute._
374. Informal.
375. A DINNER PARTY--THE GUESTS.
1. Robert Bruce.
2. Sir Walter Scott.
3. Cleopatra.
4. Leonidas.
5. Napoleon.
6. John Milton.
7. Louis XVI.
8. Artemisia.
9. Michael Angelo.
10. Gustavus of Sweden.
11. Warwick.
12. Anne of Warwick.
13. Christopher Wren.
14. Cardinal Mezzofanti.
15. Nelson.
16. Robert Burns.
17. The Chevalier Bayard.
18. Cromwell.
19. Sir Robert Walpole.
20. Sopor, King of Persia.
21. Death.
22. Schwartz, or Roger Bacon.
23. Alfred the Great.
24. Captain Cook.
25. Johannes Gutenberg.
26. Marshal Ney.
27. Galileo.
28. Blucher.
29. Sir Isaac Newton.
30. Julius Cæsar.
31. Sir Humphrey Davy.
32. Sir Walter Raleigh.
33. Sir James Ross.
34. Alfred Tennyson.
35. William Wordsworth.
36. Geoffrey Chaucer.
37. Charles XII of Sweden.
38. The Black Prince.
39. Sir Francis Drake.
40. Talleyrand.
41. Herodotus.
DISHES, ETC.
1. Oysters.
2. Soles.
3. Herring.
4. Crabs.
5. Venison.
6. Turkey.
7. Bacon.
8. Lamb.
9. Goose.
10. Hare.
11. Duck.
12. Woodcock.
13. Partridge.
14. Tongue.
15. Terrapin.
16. Potatoes.
17. Pease.
18. Parsnips.
19. Tomatoes.
20. Beets.
21. Spinach(e).
22. Cabbage.
23. Cauliflower.
24. Salad _in_.
25. Jelly.
26. Celery.
27. Artichokes.
28. Capers.
29. Cucumbers.
30. Salt.
31. Hominy.
32. Bread.
33. A _floating_ island.
34. Whips.
35. Currants.
36. Gooseberries.
37. Pears.
38. Oranges.
39. Pine apples.
40. Apricots.
41. Medlars.
42. Figs.
43. Grapes (gray apes.)
44. Comfits.
45. Nuts.
_Note._--“A headless man had a letter,” etc., page 78. Was “the
letter” the letter O--equivalent to a cipher, to nought, or nothing?
If this is the solution, then the headless man had “nothing” to
write; “nothing” was read by the blind man; the dumb repeated and the
deaf heard “nothing.”
Footnotes
[1] Reminichia--overhanging the water--the Indian name of a bluff at
the entrance of a certain Minnesota city.
[2] Full of delights: blessed.
[3] The book was written in good faith, and was published for the
benefit of the Syracuse University.
[4] Emerson, in his “Parnassus,” and the _Atlantic Monthly_
for April, 1875, accredit “A Colusion between A Water-Snaik and A
Aligater,” to G. H. Derby (“John Phenix”). It was contributed by “K. N.
Pepper” to the _Knickerbocker Magazine_, in 1854.
Transcriber’s Notes
Inconsistent word hyphenation and spelling have been regularized.
Apparent typographical errors have been corrected.
Depending on the device, software and font used to read this text, not
all elements may display as intended.
Italics are indicated as _italics_.
Bold words are indicated as =bold=.
Very large type is indicated as ++large++.
Small capitals were changed to all capitals.
Superscripts are preceded by a caret character: ^superscript, and
subscripts are preceded by a tilde character: ~subscript.
In puzzle 347, superscript (^) and subscript (~) marks affect only the
next letter displayed.
The symbol ‘‡’ indicates that the description in parentheses has been
added to an illustration tag. Visual elements in puzzles 72, 351, 363
and in answer 348 have been described in this way.
Puzzles 79 and 80 and their answers are represented as text art.
In the printer’s short-hand poem on page 119, the “{” character was
originally depicted facing upwards.
The illusion “Seeing is Believing: Seeing is Deceiving” on Page 97 may
not work with every font.
The word pyramid on Page 132 may not make the expected shape with every
font.