[Illustration: "Oliver asking for More."]
It is curious to find a coincidence in style and in idea between an
earnest, witty and pious English author of the Sixteenth Century,
and an American author of our own day. Yet so it is, and here is the
parallel to be found between the quaint American tales about the old
negro, _Uncle Remus_, by JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS, in this year of Grace,
1892, and the fables writ by Sir THOMAS MORE in 1520, or thereabouts,
which he represents as if told him by an old wife and nurse, one
Mother MAUD. Here are "The Wolf,"--"Brer Wolf"--and the simple-minded
Jackass, both are going to confession to Father Fox--"Brer Fox." Æsop
is, of course, the common origin of all such tales. The extracts which
I have come across, are to be found in a small book compiled by the
Rev. THOMAS BRIDGETT, entitled, _The Wit and Wisdom of Sir Thomas
More_. The Baron wishes that with it had been issued a glossary of old
English words and expressions, as, to an ordinary modern reader, much
of Sir THOMAS MORE's writing is well-nigh unintelligible; nay, in some
instances, the Baron can only approximately arrive at the meaning,
as though it were a writ in a foreign language with which his
acquaintance was of no great profundity. Certes, the learned and
reverend compiler hath a keen relish for this quaintness, but not so
will fifteen out of his twenty readers, who, pardie! shall regret the
absence of a key without which some of the treasure must, to them at
least, remain inaccessible. With this reservation, but with no sort
of equivocation, doth the Baron heartily recommend The Reverend
BRIDGETT's compilation of Sir THOMAS MORE's "English as she is
writ" in the Sixteenth Century, to all lovers of good books in this
"so-called (O, immortal phrase!) Nineteenth Century." The Rev. THOMAS
hath well and ably done his work, and therefore doth the Baron advise
his readers to go to their booksellers, and, being there, to imitate
the example of DICKENS's oft-quoted _Oliver_, and "ask for MORE."
Quoth the Baron, "Much liketh me the Macmillanite series of _English
Men of Action_, and in a very special manner do I laud the latest
that, to my knowledge, hath appeared 'yclept _Montrose_, by Master
MOWBRAY MORRIS--a good many 'M's' in these names--who hath executed
his _Montrose_ with as loving a heart and as tender a touch as ever
did use old IZAAK towards the gentle that he, and the simple fish, did
love so well. Did not the very hangman burst into tears as he thrust
the unfortunate nobleman off the step? and did not a universal sob
of pity break from the vast crowd assembled to see the last of the
noble cavalier, victim to an unfortunate tradition of loyalty? What
wonder then if we sympathise with this luckless hero of romance?
The weak-knee'd villain of this historical drama was '_Charles_ (his
friend),' in which character, be it allowed, this sad dog of a Merry
Monarch not infrequently appeared. Thank you much, Mr. MOWBRAY
MONTROSE MORRIS," quoth