_January_.--If dining out on the 1st, remember that the QUEEN was
created Empress of Hindostan on that date in 1877, although the
Opposition tried to _hinder her_ from assuming the title. Work this
out. Lent Term commences at Oxford and Cambridge. Can't be given away
if only _lent_. This entertaining quibble (suitable to five o'clock
teas in Bayswater) can be applied to other topics. Note the colours
of the Universities, and bring in somehow "a fit of the blues." On
the 13th PITT died, on the 14th FOX was born. First date suggestive of
PITT, the second of _pity_. Good joke for the Midlands. Put it down to
SHERIDAN.
_February_.--On the 3rd Lord SALISBURY born on St. Blaise's festival.
Consequently might be expected to set the Thames on fire. This
said with a sneer, should go splendidly at a second-rate Radical
luncheon-party. On the 14th, if you receive an uncomplimentary
missive, say it is less suggestive of _Valentine_ than _Orson_. This
capital jest should make you a welcome guest in places where they
laugh until the end of the month.
_March_.--Not much doing. On the 8th Battle of Abookir, 1801. If you
take care to pronounce the victory _A-book-er_, you may possibly get a
jest out of it in connection with a welshing transaction on the
turf, when you can call it "the defeat of _A-book-er_." Good at a
hunting-breakfast where the host is a nonagenarian, who can observe
"1801?--the year of my birth!"
_April_.--Remember BISMARCK was born on the 1st, so it can't be "_All_
Fools' Day." Work this up to amuse a spinster aunt who reads the
_Times_.
_May_.--You may say of the 1st, if it is cold, that it is a "naughty
date." If you are asked for a reason for this assertion, apologise and
explain that you meant a "_Connaughty_ date, for it is Prince ARTHUR's
Birthday." The claims of loyalty should secure for this quaint conceit
a right hearty welcome. In 1812, on the 22nd, GRISI the celebrated
songstress was born. At a distance of four hundred miles from
London, in extremely unsophisticated society, you may perhaps
venture something about the notes of this far-famed artist being like
"lubricated lightning" for evident reasons, but you must not expect
any one to laugh.
_June_.--The name of this month may assist you to a joke here and
there in regard to a well-known ecclesiastical lawyer and Queen's
Counsel. This will be the more valuable, as the "remarkable days" are
few and far between, according to WHITAKER.
_July_.--Note that on the 3rd the Dog Days commence, and that it is
also the anniversary of the Battle of Sadowa. If you pronounce the
victory "sad-hour" you should get a jest calculated to cause merriment
amongst persons who have spent the best years of their lives on desert
islands, or as Chancery Division Chief Clerks. On the 24th the Window
Tax was abolished, of which you may say that although a priceless boon
it was only a _light_ relief. If you can only introduce this really
clever _bon mot_ into a speech at a wedding breakfast, a railway
indignation meeting or a debate in the House of Lords, it is sure
to go with bowls not to say shrieks. PENN died on the 30th, and in
founding Pennsylvania was mightier than the sword. This announcement
is the nearest approach to levity that in common decency can be
tolerated in a mourning coach.
_August_.--On the 1st, in 1834, no less than 770,280 British slaves
were freed. You might ask satirically, how many slaves (be they
husbands or be they wives) now exist? You might offer this to a
clergyman to be used in a sermon. On the 26th, Anniversary of the
Battle of Cressy. Opportunity for saying (at the breaking-up of an
infant school) that on account of the extremely warm reception to
which the French were welcomed on that occasion, the victory might be
appropriately called, "the Battle of Mustard-and-Cressy." This will be
found pleasing by a Colonial Briton home on furlough, and an Honorary
Royal Academician living in retirement.
_September_.--On the 1st, Shooting at Partridges commences.
Opportunity for aiming old jokes about firing off guns without
loading, killing dead birds, &c, &c. On the 3rd, the present Lord
Chancellor born in 1825--the name of GIFFARD entombed in Hals-_bury_.
A little obscure this, but, if carefully worked out, will amply repay
time and attention. On the 9th THOMAS WATTS (who may be amusingly
called "Watts-his-name"), died in 1869. Not much in this, but may
possibly fill up an awkward pause during the reading of a will, or
the arrival of fresh hot water at a newly-married lady's initial
hospitality at five o'clock tea.
_October_.--FIELDING, the novelist, _bowled out_ on the 8th in
1754. Battle of Agincourt on the 25th--an awful example to habitual
drunkards. Pheasant-shooting commences. Right time to tell that story
about the Cockney who, dropping his "h's," shot _peasants_ instead!
This well-worn jest will be still found attractive by Australians who
have spent the better part of their lives in the Bush.
[Illustration: ALWAYS ENTERTAINING;