Chapter XLVI: A domestic picture is given, an interior, with the (9)

I that have robbed so oft am now bid stand;
Death and the law assault me, and demand
My life and means: I never used men so,
But, having ta’en their money, let them go.
Yet, must I die? and is there no relief?
The King of kings had mercy on a thief!
So may our gracious king, too, if he please,
Without his council grant me a release;
God is his precedent, and men shall see
His mercy go beyond severity.

Singular Customs.

MEMENTO MORI.

The ancient Egyptians, at their grand festivals and parties of pleasure, always had a coffin placed on the table at meals, containing a mummy, or a skeleton of painted wood, which, Herodotus tells us, was presented to each of the guests with this admonition:—“Look upon this, and enjoy yourself; for such will you become when divested of your mortal garb.” This custom is frequently alluded to by Horace and Catullus; and Petronius tells us that at the celebrated banquet of Trimalcion a silver skeleton was placed on the table to awaken in the minds of the guests the remembrance of death and of deceased friends.

BEAUTIFUL SUPERSTITION.

Among the superstitions of the Seneca Indians was one remarkable for its singular beauty. When a maiden died, they imprisoned a young bird until it first began to try its powers of song, and then, loading it with messages and caresses, they loosed its bonds over her grave, in the belief that it would not fold its wing nor close its eyes until it had flown to the spirit-land and delivered its precious burden of affection to the loved and lost.

STRANGE FONDNESS FOR BEAUTY.

In Carazan, a province to the northeast of Tartary, the inhabitants have a custom, says Dr. Heylin, when a stranger of handsome shape and fine features comes into their houses, of killing him in the night,—not out of desire of spoil, or to eat his body, but that the soul of such a comely person might remain among them.

THE FOUNDATIONS OF DRUIDICAL TEMPLES.

There is a curious tradition both of St. Patrick in Ireland, and of St. Columba in Iona, that when they attempted to found churches they were impeded by an evil spirit, who threw down the walls as fast as they were built, until a human victim was sacrificed and buried under the foundation, which being done, they stood firm.

It is to be feared that there is too much truth in this story. Not, of course, that such a thing was done by either a Christian Patrick or Columba, but by the Druids, from whom the story was fathered upon the former. Under each of the twelve pillars of one of the Druidical circular temples in Iona a human body was found to have been buried.

ABYSSINIAN BEEFSTEAKS.

Mr. Bruce, the Abyssinian traveller, has frequently been ridiculed for asserting that it is a practice in Abyssinia to cut slices from the backs of their cattle while alive, and then drive them back to pasture; but his statements have been confirmed by more recent travellers. Mr. Salt says that a soldier belonging to the party to which he was attached took one of the cows they were driving before them, cut off two pieces of flesh from the glutæi muscles of the buttock, near the tail, and then sewed up the wound, plastering it over with manure, after which the party proceeded to cook the steaks.

OSTIAK REGARD FOR BEARS.

Tooke, in his work on Russia, tells us of a strange custom that prevails among the Ostiaks,—a Finnish nation. The Ostiaks, says he, believe that bears enjoy after death a happiness at least equal to that which they expect for themselves. Whenever they kill one of these animals, therefore, they sing songs over him, in which they ask his pardon, and hang up his skin, to which they show many civilities and pay many fine compliments, in order to induce him not to wreak his vengeance upon them in the abode of spirits.

MAKING NOSES.

At Kat Kangra, a place visited by the traveller Vigne, at the base of the Himalaya, there are native surgeons, celebrated for putting on new noses. The maimed come a great distance for repairs. When it is recollected that the rajahs cut off ears and noses without stint, it may be readily supposed that these surgeons have plenty of patients. The hope of a restoration of the nasal organ brings them from remote distances. To all intents and purposes, it is done like the Taliacotian operation in our hospitals,—by taking a flap of integument from the forehead. With very simple instruments, and a little cotton wool besmeared with pitch, to keep the parts together, the success is sufficient to extend the reputation of the rude operators.

LION-CATCHING IN SOUTH AFRICA.

Mr. Lemue, who formerly resided at Motito, and is familiar with the Kallibari country, assures us that the remarkable accounts sometimes circulated as to the people of that part of Africa catching lions by the tail—of which, one would naturally be incredulous—were perfectly true. Lions would sometimes become extremely dangerous to the inhabitants. Having become accustomed to human flesh, they would not willingly eat any thing else. When a neighborhood became infested, the men would determine on the measures to be adopted to rid themselves of the nuisance; then, forming themselves into a band, they would proceed in search of their royal foe, and beard the lion in his lair. Standing close by one another, the lion would make his spring on some one of the party,—every man, of course, hoping he might escape the attack,—when instantly others would dash forward and seize his tail, lifting it up close to the body with all their might; thus not only astonishing the animal, and absolutely taking him off his guard, but rendering his efforts powerless for the moment; while others closed in with their spears, and at once stabbed the monster through and through.

HIGH LIFE IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.

We gain the following glimpse of the manners of the upper classes in England, four hundred years ago, from the Journal of Elizabeth Woodville, subsequently Lady Grey, and finally Queen of Edward IV. Royalty _in petto_ seems to have taken, with a most refreshing cordiality, to the avocations of baking and brewing, pig-tending, poultry-feeding, and pony-catching.

_Monday morning._—Rose at 4 o’clock, and helped Catharine to milk the
cows. Rachel, the dairy-maid, having scalded her hand in so bad a
manner the night before, made a poultice, and gave Robin a penny to
get something from the apothecary.

_6 o’clock._—The buttock of beef too much boiled, and beer a little
stale; (mem. to talk to the cook about the first fault, and to mend
the other myself by tapping a fresh barrel immediately.)

_7 o’clock._—Went to walk with the lady my mother in the court-yard;
fed twenty-five men and women; chid Roger severely for expressing some
ill will at attending us with some broken meat.

_8 o’clock._—Went into the paddock behind the house with my maid
Dorothy; caught Thump, the little pony, myself; rode a matter of ten
miles without saddle or bridle.

_10 o’clock._—Went to dinner. John Grey, a most comely youth; but what
is that to me? a virtuous maid should be entirely under the direction
of her parents. John ate but little, and stole a great many tender
glances at me. Said women could never be handsome in his eyes who were
not good-tempered. I hope my temper is not intolerable: nobody finds
fault with it but Roger, and he is the most disorderly youth in our
house. John Grey likes white teeth: my teeth are a pretty good color.
I think my hair is as black as jet,—though I say it; and John Grey, if
I mistake not, is of the same opinion.

_11 o’clock._—Rose from the table; the company all desirous of walking
in the field. John Grey lifted me over every stile, and twice squeezed
my hand with much vehemence. I cannot say I should have much
objection, for he plays at prison-bar as well as any of the country
gentlemen, is remarkably dutiful to his parents, my lord and lady, and
never misses church on Sunday.

_3 o’clock._—Poor Farmer Robinson’s house burned down by accidental
fire. John Grey proposed a subscription among the company for the
relief of the farmer, and gave no less than four pounds with this
benevolent intent. (Mem. never saw him look so comely as at this
moment.)

_4 o’clock._—Went to prayers.

_6 o’clock._—Fed hogs and poultry.

HAIR IN SEALS.

Stillingfleet, referring to a MS. author who wrote a chronicle of St. Augustine, says:—

He observes one particular custom of the Normans, _that they were wont to put some of the hair of their heads or beards into the wax of their seals_: I suppose rather to be kept as monuments, than as adding any strength or weight to their charters. So he observes that some of the hair of William, Earl of Warren, was in his time kept in the Priory of Lewis.

SCORNING THE CHURCH.

In North Durham, it is customary, in case that the banns of marriage are thrice published, and the marriage does not take place, for the refusing party, whether male or female, to pay forty shillings to the vicar as a penalty for _scorning the church_.

MATRIMONIAL ADVERTISEMENT.

The following strange advertisement from an old newspaper exhibits one of the customs of rural life in England more than a century ago:—

May no miscarriage
Prevent my marriage!

Matthew Dowson, in Bothell, Cumberland, intends to be married at Holm
Church, on the Thursday before Whitsuntide next, whenever that may
happen—and to return to Bothell to dine.

Mr. Reed gives a turkey to be roasted; William Elliot gives a hen to
be roasted; Edward Clement gives a fat lamb to be roasted; Joseph
Gibson gives a fat pig to be roasted; William Hughes gives a fat calf
to be roasted.

And in order that all this roast may be well basted—do you see?—Mary
Pearson, Betty Hughes, Mary Bushby, Molly Fisher, Sarah Briscoe, and
Betty Porthoust, give, each of them, a pound of butter. The advertiser
will provide every thing else suitable for so festive an occasion: and
he hereby gives notice to all young women desirous of changing their
condition, that he is at present disengaged, and he advises them to
consider that although there may be luck in leisure, yet, in this
case, delays are dangerous; for with him, he is determined that it
shall be—first come, first served.

So come along, lasses who wish to be married—
Mattie Dowson is vexed that so long he has tarried.

Facetiæ.

TITLES FOR THE LIBRARY DOOR, CHATSWORTH.

The Duke of Devonshire found it necessary to construct a door of sham books for an entrance to the library of Chatsworth. He was tired of the hackneyed _Plain Dealings_, _Essays on Wood_, _Perpetual Motion_, _etc._, on such doors, and asked Thomas Hood to give him some new titles. The following are selections from his amusing list:—

McAdam’s Views in Rhodes.

Pygmalion. By Lord Bacon.

Dante’s Inferno; or, Descriptions of Van Demon’s Land.

Tadpoles; or, Tales out of my Own Head.

Designs for Friezes. By Sir John Franklin.

Recollections of Bannister. By Lord Stair.

Ye Devill on Two-Styx (Black Letter).

Malthus’ Attack of Infantry.

The Life of Zimmerman. By Himself.

Boyle on Steam.

Book-Keeping by Single Entry.

Rules for Punctuation. By a thorough-bred Pointer.

On the Site of Tully’s Offices.

Cornaro on Longevity and the Construction of 74’s.

Cursory Remarks on Swearing.

Shelley’s Conchologist.

On Sore Throat and the Migration of the Swallow. By Abernethy.

The Scottish Boccaccio. By D. Cameron.

Chronological Account of the Date Tree. Percy Vere. In 40 vols.

In-i-go on Secret Entrances.

Cook’s Specimens of the Sandwich Tongue.

Peel on Bell’s System.

Lamb’s Recollections of Suett.

Blaine on Equestrian Burglary; or The Breaking-in of Horses.

The Rape of the Lock, with Bramah’s Notes.

Kosciusko on the Right of the Poles to stick up for themselves.

Haughty-cultural Remarks on London Pride.

THE JESTS OF HIEROCLES.

§A young§ man, meeting an acquaintance, said, “I heard that you were dead.” “But,” says the other, “you see me alive.” “I do not know how that may be,” replied he: “you are a notorious liar; but my informant was a person of credit.”

A man wrote to a friend in Greece, begging him to purchase books. From negligence or avarice, he neglected to execute the commission; but, fearing that his correspondent might be offended, he exclaimed, when next they met, “My dear friend, I never got the letter you wrote to me about the books.”

An irritable man went to visit a sick friend, and asked him concerning his health. The patient was so ill that he could not reply; whereupon the other, in a rage, said, “I hope that I may soon fall sick, and then I will not answer you when you visit me.”

A speculative gentleman, wishing to teach his horse to live without food, starved him to death. “I suffered a great loss,” said he, “for just as he learned to live without eating, he died.”

A robust countryman, meeting a physician, ran to hide behind a wall: being asked the cause, he replied, “It is so long since I have been sick, that I am ashamed to look a physician in the face.”

A curious inquirer, desirous to know how he looked when asleep, sat with closed eyes before a mirror.

A man, hearing that a raven would live two hundred years, bought one to try.

One of twin brothers died: a fellow, meeting the survivor, asked, “Which is it that’s dead, you or your brother?”

A man who had to cross a river entered a boat on horseback: being asked why, he replied, “I must ride, because I am in a hurry.”

A foolish fellow, having a house to sell, took a brick from the wall to exhibit as a sample.

A man, meeting a friend, said, “I spoke to you last night in a dream.” “Pardon me,” replied the other; “I did not hear you.”

A man that had nearly been drowned while bathing, declared that he would never enter the water again till he had learned to swim.

A student in want of money sold his books, and wrote home, “Father, rejoice; for I now derive my support from literature.”

During a storm, the passengers on board a vessel that appeared in danger seized different implements to aid them in swimming; and one of the number selected for this purpose the anchor.

A wittol, a barber, and a bald-headed man travelled together. Losing their way, they were forced to sleep in the open air; and, to avert danger, it was agreed to keep watch by turns. The lot fell first on the barber, who, for amusement, shaved the fool’s head while he slept; he then woke him, and the fool, raising his hand to scratch his head, exclaimed, “Here’s a pretty mistake! Rascal, you have waked the bald-headed man instead of me.”

A gentleman had a cask of fine wine, from which his servant stole a large quantity. When the master perceived the deficiency, he diligently inspected the top of the cask, but could find no traces of an opening. “Look if there be not a hole in the bottom,” said a bystander. “Blockhead,” he replied, “do you not see that the deficiency is at the top, and not at the bottom?”

BREVITY.

The London member of the house of Rothschild once wrote to his Paris correspondent to ascertain if any alteration had occurred in the price of certain stocks. The inquiry was only a simple

=?=
The reply was equally brief: ———
=0=

Mr. McNair, a man of few words, wrote to his nephew at Pittsburg the following laconic letter:—

§Dear Nephew§,

=;=

To which the nephew replied, by return of mail,—

§Dear Uncle§,

=:=

The long of this short was, that the uncle wrote to his nephew, _See my coal on_, which a se-mi-col-on expressed; and the youngster informed his uncle that the coal was shipped, by simply saying, _Col-on_.

When Lord Buckley married a rich and beautiful lady, whose hand had been solicited at the same time by Lord Powis, in the height of his felicity he wrote thus to the Duke of Dorset:—

_Dear Dorset_:—I am the happiest dog alive!

§Buckley.§

§ANSWER§:

_Dear Buckley_:—Every dog has his day.

§Dorset.§

Louis XIV., who loved a concise style, one day met a priest on the road, whom he asked, hastily,—

“Whence came you—where are you going—what do you want?”

The priest instantly replied,—

“From Bruges—to Paris—a benefice.”

“You shall have it,” replied the king.

A lady having occasion to call upon Abernethy, the great surgeon, and knowing his repugnance to any thing like verbosity, forbore speaking except simply in reply to his laconic inquiries. The consultation, during three visits, was conducted in the following manner:—

_First Day._—(Lady enters and holds out her finger.) _Abernethy._—“Cut?” _Lady._—“Bite.” _A._—“Dog?” _L._—“Parrot.” _A._—“Go home and poultice it.”

_Second Day._—(Finger held out again.) _A._—“Better?” _L._—“Worse.” _A._—“Go home and poultice it again.”

_Third Day._—(Finger held out as before.) _A._—“Better?” _L._—“Well.” _A._—“You’re the most sensible woman I ever met with. Good-bye. Get out.”

Since Cæsar’s famous “_veni, vidi, vici_,” (I came, I saw, I conquered,) many military commanders have rendered their despatches memorable for pith and conciseness; but Sir Sidney Smith bears the palm for both wit and brevity in his announcement of the capture of Scinde:—“_Peccavi_” (I have sinned). Gen. Havelock’s “We are in _Lucknow_” has already become a matter of history.

The following _jeu d’esprit_, written in 1793, was occasioned by the circumstance of Lord Howe returning from his pursuit of the French fleet, after an absence of six weeks, during which he had only _seen_ the enemy, without having been able to overtake and bring them to action:—

When Cæsar triumphed o’er his Gallic foes,
Three words concise his gallant acts disclose;
But Howe, more brief, comprises his in _one_,
And _vidi_ tells us all that he has done.

If brevity is the soul of wit, Talleyrand was the greatest of wits. A single word was often sufficient for his keenest retort. When a hypochondriac, who had notoriously led a profligate life, complained to the diplomatist that he was enduring the torments of hell,—“Je sens les tourmens de l’enfer,”—the answer was, “_Déjà?_” (Already?) To a lady who had lost her husband Talleyrand once addressed a letter of condolence in two words:—“O, Madame!” In less than a year the lady had married again; and then his letter of congratulation was, “Ah, Madame!” Could any thing be more wittily significant than the “O” and the “Ah” of this sententious correspondence?

SAME JOKE DIVERSIFIED.

Prince Metternich once requested the autograph of Jules Janin. The witty journalist sent him the following:—

“I acknowledge the receipt from M. de Metternich of twenty bottles of Johannisberg, for which I return infinite thanks.

“§Jules Janin.§”

The prince, in return, doubled the quantity, and sent him forty bottles.

This is equal to the joke of Rochester on the occasion of Charles II.’s crew of rakes writing pieces of poetry and handing them to Dryden, so that he might decide which was the prettiest poet. Rochester finished his piece in a few minutes; and Dryden decided that it was the best. On reading it, the lines were found to be the following:—

“I promise to pay, to the order of John Dryden, twenty pounds.—§Rochester.§”

The following hyperbolical compliment paid to Louis XIV., after his numerous victories, is almost literally translated from the French of a Gascon author of those days, and, extraordinary as it may seem, is said to have obtained for the writer of it the premium alluded to in his gasconade:—

To him whose muse in lofty strains
Shall blazon Louis’ famed campaigns
And every great exploit,
Belongs the prize of twenty pounds:—
What! only twenty! Blood and wounds!
For each ’tis scarce a doit.[17]

Footnote 17:

The following inscription on a medal of Louis XIV. illustrates the
servile adulation of that period:—

See in profile great Louis here designed!
Both eyes portrayed would strike the gazer blind.

The Emperor Nicholas of Russia was thus “sold,” a few years ago. During an interview which Martineff, the comedian and mimic, had succeeded in obtaining with the Prince, (Volkhonsky, high steward,) the emperor walked into the room unexpectedly, yet with a design, as was soon made evident. Telling the actor that he had heard of his talents and should like to see a specimen of them, he bade him mimic the old minister. This feat was performed with so much gusto that the emperor laughed immoderately, and then, to the great horror of the poor actor, desired to have himself “taken off.” “’Tis physically impossible,” pleaded Martineff. “Nonsense!” said Nicholas: “I insist on its being done.” Finding himself on the horns of a dilemma, the mimic took heart of grace, and, with a promptitude and presence of mind that probably saved him, buttoned his coat over his breast, expanded his chest, threw up his head, and, assuming the imperial port to the best of his power, strode across the room and back; then, stopping opposite the minister, he cried, in the exact tone and manner of the Czar, “Volkhonsky! pay Monsieur Martineff one thousand silver roubles.” The emperor for a moment was disconcerted; but, recovering himself with a faint smile, he ordered the money to be paid.

OLD NICK.

When Nicholas Biddle was President of the United States Bank, there was an old negro hanger-on about the premises named Harry. One day, in a social mood, Biddle said to the darkey, “Well what is your name, my old friend?” “Harry, sir—ole Harry, sir,” said the other, touching his shabby hat. “Old Harry!” said Biddle, “why that is the name that they give to the devil, is it not?” “Yes, sir,” said the colored gentleman, “sometimes ole Harry and sometimes ole Nick.”

SYLLOGISM.

The famous sorites or syllogism of Themistocles was: That his infant son commanded the whole world, proved thus:—

My infant son rules his mother.
His mother rules me.
I rule the Athenians.
The Athenians rule the Greeks.
The Greeks rule Europe.
And Europe rules the world.

A FALSE FRIEND.

“You may say what you please,” said Bill Muggins, speaking of a deceased comrade, “Jake was a good boy, he was, and a great hunter; but he was the meanest man that ever breathed in Old Kentuck; and he played one of the sharpest tricks you ever heard of, and I’ll tell you how it was. I was out shootin’ with him one mornin’. I tell you the duck was plenty; and other game we despised as long as we could see duck. Jake he was too mean to blaze away unless he could shoot two or three at a shot. He used to blow me up for wastin’ shot and powder so, but I didn’t care—I banged away. Well, somehow or other, while fussin’ around the boat, my powder-flask fell overboard in about sixteen feet of water, which was as clear as good gin, and I could see the flask lay at the bottom. Jake was a good swimmer, and a good diver, and he said he’d fetch her up; so in a minit he was in. Well, I waited quite a considerable time for him to come up; then I looked over the side for him. Great Jerusalem! there sot old Jake on a pile of oyster-shells pourin’ the powder out of my flask into his’n. Wasn’t that mean?”

GASCONADE AND HOAXING.

A Gascon, in proof of his nobility, asserted that in his father’s castle they used no other firewood than the batons of the different marshals of France of his family.

A Gascon officer, on hearing of the boastful exploits of a certain prince, who, among other things, had killed six men with his own hands in the course of an assault upon a city, said, disdainfully, “Poh, that’s nothing: the mattress I sleep on is stuffed with nothing but the _whiskers_ of those I have sent to the other world.”

Vernon’s skill in the invention of marvellous stories has never been surpassed, even by the peddlers of wooden nutmegs. Talking one day about the intense heat of the sun in India, he remarked that it was a common thing there for people to be charred to powder by a _coup de soleil_, and that upon one occasion, while dining with a Hindoo, one of his host’s wives was suddenly reduced to ashes, whereupon the Hindoo rang the bell, and said to the attendant who answered it, “Bring fresh glasses, and _sweep up your mistress_.”

Another of his stories was this. He happened to be shooting hyenas near Carthage, when he stumbled, and fell down an abyss of many fathoms’ depth. He was surprised, however, to find himself unhurt; for he lighted as if on a feather bed. Presently he perceived that he was gently moved upward; and, having by degrees reached the mouth of the abyss, he again stood safe on terra firma. He had fallen upon an immense mass of bats, which, disturbed from their slumbers, had risen out of the abyss and brought him up with them.

CHARLES MATHEWS AND THE SILVER SPOON.

Soon after Mathews went from York to the Haymarket Theatre, he was invited with other performers to dine with Mr. A——, afterwards an eminent silversmith, but who at that period followed the business of a pawnbroker. It so happened that A—— was called out of the parlor, at the back of the shop, during dinner. Mathews, with wonderful celerity, altering his hair, countenance, hat, &c., took a large gravy-spoon off the dinner-table, ran instantly into the street, entered one of the little dark doors leading to the pawnbroker’s counter, and actually pledged to the unconscious A—— his own gravy-spoon. Mathews contrived with equal rapidity to return and seat himself (having left the street-door open) before A—— reappeared at the dinner-table. As a matter of course, this was made the subject of a wager. An _éclaircissement_ took place before the party broke up, to the infinite astonishment of A——.

A ROYAL QUANDARY.

On the first consignment of Seidlitz Powders to the capital of Delhi, the monarch was deeply interested in the accounts of the refreshing beverage. A box was brought to the king in full court, and the interpreter explained to his majesty how it was to be used. Into a goblet he put the contents of the twelve blue papers; and, having added water, the king drank it off. This was the alkali, and the royal countenance exhibited no sign of satisfaction. It was then explained that in the _combination_ of the two powders lay the luxury; and the twelve white powders were quickly dissolved in water, and as eagerly swallowed by his majesty. With a shriek that will never be forgotten, the monarch rose, staggered, exploded, and, in his agony, screamed, “_Hold me down!_” Then, rushing from the throne, he fell prostrate on the floor. There he lay during the long-continued effervescence of the compound, spirting like ten thousand pennyworths of imperial pop, and believing himself in the agonies of death, a melancholy and convincing proof that kings are mortal.

RELICS.

“What is this?” said a traveller, who entertained reasonable doubts as to the genuineness of certain so-called relics of antiquity, while visiting an old cathedral in the Netherlands: “what is contained in this phial?”

“Sir,” replied the sacristan, “that phial contains one of the frogs picked up when Pharaoh was visited with the plague of frogs.”

“I am sure, then,” rejoined the traveller, “there could have been no epicures in those days.”

“Why so?” said the sacristan.

“Because they would have eaten him, he is so large and fat.”

The traveller took up another phial which was near. “This contains?” said he,—

“That is a most precious relic of the church, which we value very highly.”

“It looks very _dark_.”

“There is good reason for that.”

“I am somewhat curious. Tell me why.”

“You perceive it is very dark.”

“I own it.”

“That, sir, is some of the darkness which Moses spread over the land of Egypt.”

“Indeed! I presume, what the moderns call _darkness made visible_.”

ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS.

“Mother,” asked a little girl, while listening to the reading of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, “why don’t the book never mention Topsy’s last name? I have tried to hear it whenever it speaks of her, but it has not once said it.”

“Why, she had no other name, my child.”

“Yes she had, mother, and I know it.”

“Well, what was it?”

“Why Turvy—Topsy Turvy.”

“You had better go to bed, my dear,” said the mother. “You are as bad as your old grandmother, for she can’t say pork without beans, for the life of her.”

P. AND Q.

When it was fully expected that Mr. W——, whose unmanageable voice had obtained for him the title of “Bubble and Squeak,” would be elected Speaker of the House of Commons, and Mr. Canning was so informed, he observed that if the report were true, the members must mind their P’s and Q’s; or else, instead of saying “Mr. S_p_eaker,” they would say “Mr. S_q_ueaker!”

“JACK ROBINSON.”

Lord Eldon relates that during the parliamentary debates on the India Bill, when Mr. John Robinson was Secretary to the Treasury, Sheridan, on one evening when Fox’s majorities were decreasing, said, “Mr. Speaker, this is not at all to be wondered at, when a member is employed to corrupt everybody in order to obtain votes.” Upon this there was a great outcry by almost everybody in the house. “Who is it?” “Name him! Name him!” “Sir,” said Sheridan to the Speaker, “I shall not name the person. It is an unpleasant and invidious thing to do so; and, therefore, I shall not name him. But don’t suppose, Sir, that I abstain because there is any difficulty in naming him; I could do that, Sir, as soon as you could say ‘Jack Robinson.’”

A RUSSIAN JESTER AND HIS JOKES.

Popular traditions in Russia unite in representing the jester Balakireff as the constant attendant of Peter the Great, who figures largely in all the stories attached to the name of his buffoon.

On one occasion Balakireff begged permission of his imperial master to attach himself to the guard stationed at the palace, and Peter, for the sake of the joke, consented—warning him at the same time that any officer of the guard who happened to lose his sword, or to be absent from his post when summoned, was punished with death. The newly-made officer promised to do his best; but the temptation of some good wine sent to his quarters that evening by the Czar, “to moisten his commission,” proved too strong for him; and he partook so freely as to become completely “screwed.” While he was sleeping off his debauch, Peter stole softly into the room, and carried off his sword. Balakireff missing it on awakening, and frightened out of his wits at the probable consequences, could devise no better remedy than to replace the weapon with his own professional sword of lath,—the hilt and trappings of which were exactly similar to those of the guardsmen. Thus equipped, he appeared on parade the next morning, confident in the assurance of remaining undetected, if not forced to draw his weapon. But Peter, who had doubtless foreseen this contingency, instantly began storming at one of the men for his untidy appearance, and at length faced round upon Balakireff with the stern order, “Captain Balakireff, draw your sword and cut that sloven down!”

The poor jester, thus brought fairly to bay, laid his hand on his hilt as if to obey, but at the same time exclaimed fervently, “Merciful Heaven! let my sword be turned into wood!”

And drawing the weapon, he exhibited in very deed a harmless lath. Even the presence of the Emperor was powerless to check the roar of laughter which followed, and Balakireff was allowed to escape.

* * * * *

The jester’s ingenuity occasionally served him in extricating others from trouble as well as himself. A cousin of his, having fallen under the displeasure of the Czar, was about to be executed; and Balakireff presented himself at Court to petition for a reprieve. Peter, seeing him enter, and at once divining his errand, shouted to him: “It’s no use your coming here; I swear that I will _not_ grant what you are going to ask!”

Quick as thought, Balakireff dropped on his knees, and exclaimed, “Peter Alexejevitch, I beseech you put that scamp of a cousin of mine to death!”

Peter, thus caught in his own trap, had no choice but to laugh, and send a pardon to the offender.

* * * * *

During one of the Czar’s Livonian campaigns, a thick fog greatly obstructed the movements of the army. At length a pale watery gleam began to show itself through the mist, and two of the Russian officers fell to disputing whether this were the sun or not. Balakireff, happening to pass by at that moment, they appealed to him to decide. “Is that light yonder the sun, brother?”

“How should I know,” answered the jester; “I’ve never been here before!”

* * * * *

At the end of the same campaign, several of the officers were relating their exploits, when Balakireff stepped in among them. “I’ve got a story to tell, too,” cried he, boastfully; “a better one than any of yours!”

“Let us hear it, then,” answered the officers; and Balakireff began,—

“I never liked this way of fighting, all in a crowd together, which they have nowadays; it seems to me more manly for each to stand by himself; and therefore I always went out alone. Now it chanced that one day, while reconnoitering close to the enemy’s outposts, I suddenly espied a Swedish soldier lying on the ground, just in front of me. There was not a moment to lose; he might start up and give the alarm. I drew my sword, rushed upon him, and at one blow cut off his right foot!”

“You fool!” cried one of the listeners, “you should rather have cut off his head!”

“So I would,” answered Balakireff, with a grin, “but somebody else had done that already!”

* * * * *

At times Balakireff pushed his waggeries too far, and gave serious offense to his formidable patron. On one of these occasions the enraged Emperor summarily banished him from the Court, bidding him “never appear on Russian soil again.” The jester disappeared accordingly; but a week had hardly elapsed when Peter, standing at his window, espied his disgraced favorite coolly driving a cart past the very gates of the palace. Foreseeing some new jest, he hastened down, and asked with pretended roughness, “How dare you disobey me, when I forbade you to show yourself on Russian ground?”

“I haven’t disobeyed you,” answered Balakireff, coolly; “I’m not on Russian ground now!”

“Not on Russian ground?”

“No; this cart-load of earth that I’m sitting on is Swedish soil. I dug it up in Finland only the other day!”

Peter, who had doubtless begun already to regret the loss of his jester, laughed at the evasion, and restored him to favor. Some Russian writers embellished this story (a German version of which figures in the adventures of Tyll Eulenspiegel) with the addition that Peter, on hearing the excuse, answered, “If Finland be Swedish soil now, it shall be Russian before long”—a threat which he was not slow to fulfill.

The Flashes of Repartee.

Curran, being angry in a debate one day, put his hand on his heart, saying: “I am the trusty guardian of my own honor.” “Then,” replied Sir Boyle Roche, “I congratulate my honorable friend on the snug sinecure to which he has appointed himself.”

* * * * *

On one occasion as the Rev. Matthew Wilkes, a celebrated London preacher, was on his way to a meeting of ministers, he got caught in a shower in the place called Billingsgate, where there were a large number of women dealing in fish, who were using most profane and vulgar language. As he stopped under a shed in the midst of them, he felt called upon to give at least his testimony against their wickedness.

“Don’t you think,” said he, speaking with the greatest deliberation and solemnity, “I shall appear as a swift witness against you in the day of judgment?”

“I presume so,” said one, “for the biggest rogue always turns State’s evidence.”

Matthew, when he got to the meeting, related the incident.

“And what did you say in reply, Mr. Wilkes?” said one of the ministers present.

“What could I?” was the characteristic reply.

* * * * *

The late Mr. Cobden used to tell the following anecdote:—

“When in America,” said he, “I asked an enthusiastic American lady why her country could not rest satisfied with the immense unoccupied territories it already possessed, but must ever be hankering after the lands of its neighbors, when her somewhat remarkable reply was, “Oh, the propensity is a very bad one, I admit; but we came honestly by it, for we inherited it from England.”

* * * * *

When Napoleon was only an officer of artillery, a Prussian officer said in his presence with much pride, “My countrymen fight only for glory, but Frenchmen for money.” “You are right,” replied Napoleon; “each of them fight for what they are most in want of.”

* * * * *

A gentleman complimented a lady on her improved appearance. “You are guilty of flattery,” said the lady. “Not so,” replied he, “for I vow you are as plump as a partridge.” “At first,” responded she, “I thought you guilty of flattery only, but you are now actually making game of me.”

* * * * *

A pedlar asked an old lady, to whom he was trying to sell some articles, if she could tell him of any road that no pedlar had ever travelled. “I know of but one,” said she, “and that is the road to Heaven.”

* * * * *

“What is that dog barking at?” asked a fop, whose boots were more polished than his ideas. “Why,” said the bystander, “he sees another puppy in your boots.”

* * * * *

A Quaker gentleman, riding in a carriage with a fashionable lady decked with a profusion of jewelry, heard her complaining of the cold. Shivering in her lace bonnet and shawl, as light as a cobweb, she exclaimed: “What shall I do to get warm?” “I really don’t know,” replied the Quaker solemnly, “unless thee puts on another breastpin.”

* * * * *

I dined once with Curran, said one of his friends, in the public room of the chief inn at Greenwich, when he talked a great deal, and, as usual, with considerable exaggeration. Speaking of something which he would not do on any inducement, he exclaimed: “I had rather be hanged upon twenty gibbets.” “Don’t you think, sir, that one would be enough for you?” said a girl, a stranger, who was sitting at the table next to us. You ought to have seen Curran’s face just then.

* * * * *

A tourist being exceedingly thirsty, stopped at a house by the roadside, and asked for a drink of milk. He emptied several cups, and asked for more. The woman of the house at length brought out a large bowl filled with milk, and setting it down on the table, remarked, “A person would think, sir, that you had never been weaned.”

* * * * *

Theodore Hook was walking, in the days of Warren’s blacking, where one of the emissaries of that shining character had written on the wall, “Try Warren’s B——,” but had been frightened by the approach of the owner of the property, and had fled. “The rest is lacking,” said the wit.

* * * * *

The famous Rochester one day met Dr. Barrow in the Park, and being determined, as he said, to put down the rusty piece of divinity, accosted him by taking off his hat, and with a profound bow, exclaimed: “Doctor, I am yours to my shoe-tie.” The Doctor, perceiving his aim, returned the salute with equal ceremony: “My Lord, I am yours to the ground.” His lordship then made a deeper salam, and said: “Doctor, I am yours to the centre.” Barrow replied, “My Lord, I am yours to the antipodes,” on which Rochester made another attempt by exclaiming. “I am yours to the lowest pit.” “There, my Lord, I leave you,” replied Barrow.

A windy M. P., in the midst of a tedious speech, stopped to imbibe a glass of water.

“I rise,” said Sheridan, “to a point of order.”

Everybody started, wondering what the point of order was.

“What is it?” said the speaker.

“I think, sir,” said Sheridan, “it is out of order for a windmill to go by water.”

* * * * *

At Oxford, some twenty years ago, a tutor in one of the colleges limped in his walk. Stopping one day last summer at a railroad station, he was accosted by a well-known politician, who recognized him, and asked him if he was not the chaplain at the college at such a time, naming the year. The doctor replied that he was. “I was there,” said the interrogator, “and I know you by your limp.” “Well,” said the doctor, “it seems that my limping made a deeper impression on you than my preaching.” “Ah, doctor,” was the ready reply, “it is the highest compliment we can pay a minister to say that he is known by his walk, rather than by his conversation.”

* * * * *

When Onslow was speaker of the British House of Commons, a member, who was very fond of hearing himself speak—though nobody would listen to him—on one occasion made a direct appeal to the chair, in consequence of the accustomed noise that was going on: “Mr. Speaker, I desire to know if I have not a right to be heard?” The speaker hoped, at first, to escape the necessity of a reply, by calling “Order! Order!” but this proving, as usual, of no avail, the honorable member inquired, in a louder tone than before, “Sir, have not I a right to be heard?” “Sir,” replied Onslow, “you have a right to speak.”

* * * * *

Penn, the founder of Pennsylvania, abhorred smoking. His Quaker Council one day observing him approach, laid down their pipes. “I am glad to see,” said Penn, “that you are ashamed of that vile habit.” “Not at all,” said a principal Friend, “we only lay down our pipes lest we should offend _a weak brother_.”

A saloon-keeper having started business in a building where trunks had been made, asked a friend what he had better do with the old sign, “Trunk Factory.” “O,” said the friend, “just change the T to D, and it will suit you exactly.”

Years ago, when Henry Ward Beecher’s reputation was not world-wide, a Western Young Men’s Christian Association tried to persuade the divine to go out and lecture to them without charge, saying it would increase his _fame_. He telegraphed in reply: “I will lecture for F. A. M. E.—fifty and my expenses.”

Admiral Keppel was sent to the Dey of Algiers to negotiate the restoration of some English vessels which had been captured by Algerine pirates. He advocated the cause entrusted to him with a warmth and spirit which completely confounded the Dey’s ideas of what was due to absolute power. “I wonder,” said the offended dignitary, “at the King of England’s insolence in sending me such a foolish, beardless boy.”

“Had my master,” retorted Keppel, “considered that wisdom was to be measured by the length of the beard, he would have sent you a he-goat.”

Thackeray tells us of a woman begging alms from him, who, when she saw him put his hand in his pocket, cried out: “May the blessing of God follow you all your life!” But, when he only pulled out his snuff-box, she immediately added: “And never overtake ye.”

Dr. Reid, the celebrated medical writer, was requested by a lady of literary eminence to call at her house. “Be sure you recollect the address,” she said as she quitted the room—“No. 1 Chesterfield street.” “Madam,” said the doctor, “I am too great an admirer of politeness not to remember Chesterfield, and, I fear, too selfish ever to forget Number One.”

Two men disputing about the pronunciation of the word “either”—one saying it was ee-ther, the other i-ther—agreed to refer it to the first person they met, who happened to be an Irishman, who confounded both by declaring, “it’s nayther, for it’s ayther.”

A Parisian millionaire once wrote to the celebrated comic author, Scribe:—“Honored Sir—I wish very much to ally my name with yours in the creation of a dramatic work. Will you be so kind as to write a comedy of which I shall compose one or two lines, so that I may be mentioned in the title; I will bear the entire pecuniary expense, so that I may divide the glory.” Scribe, who was vain even to conceit, replied:—“Sir—I regret that I cannot comply with your modest request. It is not in accordance with my ideas of religion or propriety that a horse and an ass should be yoked together.” To which the millionaire quickly responded:—“Sir—I have received your impertinent letter. How dare you call me a horse!”

Voltaire was warmly panegyrizing Haller one day, when a person present remarked that his eulogy was very disinterested, for Haller did not speak well of him. “Ah, well,” said Voltaire, “perhaps we are both of us mistaken.”

An Irishman, abusing Erin, declared that it contained nothing good but the whiskey. Whereupon a wag observed, “You mean to say, then, that with all her faults you love her still.”

Bacon relates that a fellow named Hogg importuned Sir Nicholas to save his life on account of the kindred between Hog and Bacon. “Aye,” replied the judge, “but you and I cannot be kindred except you be hanged, for Hog is not Bacon until it be well hanged.”

Lord Eldon, struck by the appearance of a beautiful woman passing Westminster Hall, expressed his admiration freely. The lady overhearing, returned the compliment by pronouncing him to a friend near by a most excellent judge.

Thackeray, while in Charleston, S. C., was introduced to Mrs. C., one of the leaders of its society. In his pert way he said, “I am happy to meet you, madam; I have heard that you are a fast woman.” “Oh, Mr. Thackeray,” she replied with a fascinating smile, “we must not believe all we hear; I had heard, sir, that you were a gentleman.”

Mr. Spurgeon rebuked certain of his followers who refused to interfere in politics on the ground that they were “not of this world.” This, he argued, was mere metaphor. “You might as well,” said he, “being sheep of the Lord, decline to eat mutton-chop on the plea that it would be cannibalism.”

* * * * *

A young barrister, intending to be very eloquent, observed, “such principles as these, my Lord, are written in the Book of Nature.” “What page, sir?” said Lord Chief Justice Ellenborough; and the orator was silenced for life.

The Sexes.

As unto the bow the cord is,
So unto the man is woman:
Though she bends him, she obeys him;
Though she draws him, yet she follows;
Useless each without the other.—_Hiawatha._

Mrs. Jameson, speaking of the mistaken belief that there are essential masculine and feminine virtues and vices, says it is not the quality itself, but the modification of the quality, which is masculine or feminine; and on the manner or degree in which these are balanced or combined in the individual, depends the perfection of that individual character. As the influences of religion are extended and as civilization advances, those qualities which are now admired as essentially _feminine_ will be considered as essentially _human_,—such as gentleness, purity, the more unselfish and spiritual sense of duty, and the dominance of the affections over the passions. This is, perhaps, what Buffon, speaking as a naturalist, meant when he said that with the progress of humanity _Les races se féminisent_. The axiom of the Greek philosopher Antisthenes, the disciple of Socrates, _The virtue of the man and the woman is the same_, shows a perception of this moral truth, a sort of anticipation of the Christian doctrine, even in the pagan times.

Every reader of Wordsworth will recollect the poem entitled _The Happy Warrior_. It has been quoted as an epitome of every manly, soldierly, and elevated quality. Those who make the experiment of merely substituting the word §WOMAN§ for the word §WARRIOR§, and changing the feminine for the masculine pronoun, will find that it reads equally well, and from beginning to end is literally as applicable to the one sex as to the other. As thus:—

CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WOMAN.

Who is the happy _woman_? Who is _she_
That every _woman_ born should wish to be?
It is the generous spirit who, when brought
Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought
Upon the plan that pleased _her_ childish thought;
Whose high endeavors are an inward light,
That makes the path before _her_ always bright;
Who, with a natural instinct to discern
What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn;
Abides by this resolve, and stops not there,
But makes _her_ moral being _her_ prime care;
Who, doomed to go in company with pain,
And fear, and sorrow, miserable train!
Turns _that_ necessity to glorious gain;
In face of these doth exercise a power
Which is our human nature’s highest dower;
Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves
Of their bad influence, and their good receives;
By objects, which might force the soul to abate
_Her_ feeling, rendered more compassionate;
Is placable,—because occasions rise
So often that demand such sacrifice;
More skilful in self-knowledge, even more pure
As tempted more; more able to endure
As more exposed to suffering and distress;
Thence, also, more alive to tenderness.
’Tis _she_ whose law is reason; who depends
Upon that law as on the best of friends;
Whence, in a state where men are tempted still
To evil for a guard against worse ill,
And what in quality or act is best
Doth seldom on a right foundation rest,
_She_ fixes good on good alone, and owes
To virtue every triumph that _she_ knows;
Who, if _she_ rise to station or command,
Rises by open means, and there will stand
On honorable terms, or else retire—

* * * * *

Who comprehends _her_ trust, and to the same
Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim;
And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait
For wealth, or honors, or for worldly state;
Whom they must follow; on whose head must fall
Like showers of manna, if they come at all;
Whose power shed round _her_, in the common strife
Or mild concerns of ordinary life,
A constant influence, a peculiar grace;
But who, if _she_ be called upon to face
Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined
Great issues, good or bad for human kind,
Is happy as a lover; and, attired
With sudden brightness, like to one inspired;
And through the heat of conflict keeps the law
In calmness made, and sees what _she_ foresaw;
Or if an unexpected call succeed,
Come when it will, is equal to the need!

Mrs. Jameson adds that in all these fifty-six lines there is only one line which cannot be feminized in its significance,—that filled up with asterisks, and which is totally at variance with the ideal of _a happy woman_. It is the line—

And in himself possess his own desire.

No woman could exist happily or virtuously in such complete independence of all external affections as these words express. “Her desire is to her husband:” this is the sort of subjection prophesied for the daughters of Eve. A woman doomed to exist without this earthly rest for her affections does not “in herself possess her own desire;” she turns towards God; and, if she does not make her life a life of worship, she makes it a life of charity, or she dies a spiritual and a moral death. Is it much better with the man who concentrates his aspirations in himself?

THE PRAISE OF WOMEN.

_An Old English Ballad._

Both sexes, give ear to my fancy,
While the praise of a woman I sing
Confined not to Polly nor Nancy,
But alike from the beggar to king.

When Adam at first was created,
And lord of the universe crowned,
His happiness was not completed,
Because a help-meet was not found.

He had all things that were wanting,
Which yield us contentment in life;
Both horses and foxes for hunting,
Which many love more than a wife.

A garden, so planted by nature,
Man could not produce in his life;
And yet the all-wise Creator
Saw that he wanted a wife.

Old Adam was cast into slumber,
A rib taken out of his side;
And when he awoke in a wonder,
He beheld his most beautiful bride.

With transport he gazéd upon her,—
His happiness now was complete:
He praised the all-bountiful Donor,
Who thus had provided a mate.