Chapter V: Part II: Fancy Titles for Books (1)

_Furnished by Thomas Hood for a blind door in the Library at
Chatsworth, for his friend the Duke of Devonshire._

Percy Vere. In Forty Volumes.

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

Ye Devyle on Two Styx: (black letter).

Lamb’s Recollections of Suet.

Lamb on the Death of Wolfe.

Plurality of Livings: with Regard to the Common Cat.

Boyle on Steam.

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

John Knox on Death’s Door.

Peel on Bell’s System.

Life of Jack Ketch, with Cuts of his own Execution.

Cursory Remarks upon Swearing.

Cook’s Specimens of the Sandwich Tongue.

Recollections of Banister. By Lord Stair.

On the Affinity of the Death-Watch and Sheep-Tick.

Malthus’ Attacks of Infantry.

McAdam’s Views of Rhodes.

The Life of Zimmermann. By Himself.

Pygmalion. By Lord Bacon.

Rules of Punctuation. By a Thoroughbred Pointer.

Chronological Account of the Date Tree.

Kosciusko on the Right of the Poles to Stick up for Themselves.

Prize Poems. In Blank Verse.

Shelley’s Conchology.

Chantry on the Sculpture of the Chipaway Indians.

The Scottish Boccaccio. By D. Cameron.

Hoyle on the Game Laws.

Johnson’s Contradictionary.

* * * * *

When Hood and his family were living at Ostend for economy’s sake, and with the same motive Mrs. Hood was doing her own work, as we phrase it, he wrote to a friend in England: “Jane is becoming an excellent cook and housemaid, and I intend to raise her wages. She had nothing a week before, and now I mean to double it.”

* * * * *

It has been estimated that of all possible or impossible ways of earning an honest livelihood, the most arduous, and at the same time the way which would secure the greatest good to the greatest number, would be to go around, cold nights, and get into bed for people! To this might be added, going around cold mornings and getting up for people; and, most useful and most onerous of all, going around among undecided people and making up their minds.

* * * * *

In these days of universal condensation--of condensed milk, condensed meats, condensed news--perhaps no achievement of that kind ought to surprise us; but it must be acknowledged that Thackeray’s condensing feat was the most extraordinary on record. To compress “The Sorrows of Werther”--that three volumed novel: a book of size--and tears, full of pathos and prettiness, of devotion and desperation--into four stanzas that tell the whole story, was a triumph of art which--which it is very possible GOETHE would admire less than we do.

Werther had a love for Charlotte
Such as words can never utter.
Would you know how first he met her?
She was cutting bread and butter.

Charlotte was a married lady,
And a moral man was Werther,
And, for all the wealth of Indies,
Would do nothing for to hurt her.

So he sighed, and pined, and ogled,
And his passion boiled and bubbled,
Till he blew his silly brains out,
And no more was by it troubled.

Charlotte, when she saw his body
Borne before her on a shutter,
Like a well conducted person,
Went on cutting bread and butter.

* * * * *

Theodore Hook was celebrated not more for his marvelous readiness in rhyming than for the quality of the rhymes themselves. In his hands the English language seemed to have no choice: plain prose appeared impossible. Motley was the only wear; fantastic verse the only method of expression. No less does he press into his service phrases from the languages, as in the curious verses which follow, in praise of

CLUBS.

If any man loves comfort and
Has little cash to buy it, he
Should get into a crowded club--
A most select society!

While solitude and mutton cutlets
Serve _infelix uxor_, he
May have his club (like Hercules),
And revel there in luxury.

Here’s first the Athenæum club,
So wise, there’s not a man of it
That has not sense enough for six;
(In fact, that is the plan of it).

The very waiters answer you
With eloquence Socratical,
And always lay the knives and forks
In order mathematical.

The Union Club is quite superb;
Its best apartment daily is
The lounge of lawyers, doctors, beaux,
Merchants, _cum multis aliis_.

The Travellers are in Pall Mall,
And smoke cigars so cozily,
And dream they climb the highest Alps,
Or rove the plains of Moselai.

These are the stages which all men
Propose to play their parts upon;
For _clubs_ are what the Londoners
Have clearly set their _hearts_ upon.

OTHER WORLDS.

_Mr. Mortimer Collins indulges in sundry very odd speculations
concerning them._

Other worlds! Those planets evermore
In their golden orbits swiftly glide on;
From quick Hermes by the solar shore,
To remote Poseidon.

Are they like this world? The glory shed
From the ruddy dawn’s unfading portals?
Does it fall on regions tenanted
By a race of mortals?

Are there merry maidens, wicked-eyed,
Peeping slyly through the cottage lattice?
Have they vintage bearing countries wide?
Have they oyster patties?

Does a mighty ocean roar and break
On dark rocks and sandy shores fantastic?
Have they any Darwins there, to make
Theories elastic?

Does their weather change? November fog,
Weeping April, March with many a raw gust?
And do thunder and demented dog
Come to them in August?

Nineteenth century science should unravel
All these queries, but has somehow missed ’em.
When will it be possible to travel
Through the solar system?

STILTS.

Behold the mansion reared by dædal Jack,
See the malt stored in many a plethoric sack,
In the proud cirque of Ivan’s bivouac.
Mark how the Rat’s felonious fangs invade
The golden stores in John’s pavilion laid.
Anon, with velvet foot and Tarquin strides,
Subtle Grimalkin to his quarry glides--
Grimalkin grim, that slew the fierce _rodent_,
Whose tooth insidious Johann’s sackcloth rent.
Lo! now the deep mouthed canine foe’s assault,
That vexed the avenger of the stolen malt,
Stored in the hallowed precincts of the hall,
That rose complete at Jack’s creative call.
Here stalks the impetuous Cow with crumpled horn,
Whereon the exacerbating hound was torn,
Who bayed the feline slaughter beast that slew
The Rat predacious, whose keen fangs ran through
The textile fibres that involved the grain,
That lay in Hans’ inviolate domain.
Here walks forlorn the Damsel crowned with rue,
Lactiferous spoils from vaccine dugs who drew,
Of that corniculate beast whose tortuous horn
Tossed to the clouds, in fierce, vindictive scorn,
The harrying hound whose braggart bark and stir
Arched the lithe spine and reared the indignant fur
Of Puss, that with verminicidal claw,
Struck the weird Rat, in whose insatiate maw
Lay reeking malt, that erst in Ivan’s courts we saw.
Robed in senescent garb that seems, in sooth,
Too long a prey to Chronos’ iron tooth;
Behold the man whose amorous lips incline,
Full with young Eros’ osculative sign,
To the lorn maiden, whose lac-albic hands
Drew albu-lactic wealth from lacteal glands
Of the immortal bovine, by whose horn
Distort, to realm ethereal was borne
The beast catulean, vexer of that sly
Ulysses quadrupedal, who made die
The old mordacious Rat, that dared devour
Antecedaneous ale, in John’s domestic bower.
Lo here, with hirsute honors doffed, succinct
Of saponaceous lock, the Priest, who linked
In Hymen’s golden bands the torn unthrift,
Whose means exiguous stared from many a rift,
Even as he kissed the virgin all forlorn,
Who milked the cow with implicated horn,
Who in fine wrath the canine torturer skied,
That dared to vex the insidious muricide,
Who let the auroral effluence through the pelt
Of the sly Rat that robbed the palace Jack had built.
The loud, cantankerous Shanghai comes at last,
Whose shouts aroused the shorn ecclesiast,
Who sealed the vows of Hymen’s sacrament,
To him who robed in garments indigent,
Exosculates the damsel lachrymose,
The emulgator of that hornèd brute morose,
That tossed the dog, that worried the cat, that _kilt_
The rat, that ate the malt, that lay in the house that Jack built.

* * * * *

The _Home Journal_ having published a set of rather finical rules for the conduct of equestrians in Central Park, a writer in _Vanity Fair_ supplemented and satirized them as follows:

ETIQUETTE OF EQUITATION.

When a gentleman is to accompany a lady on horseback,

1st. There must be two horses. (Pillions are out of fashion, except in
some parts of Wales, Australia and New Jersey.)

2d. One horse must have a side saddle. The gentleman will not mount
this horse. By bearing this rule in mind he will soon find no
difficulty in recognizing his own steed.

3d. The gentleman will assist the lady to mount and adjust her foot
in the stirrup. There being but one stirrup, he will learn upon which
side to assist the lady after very little practice.

4th. He will then mount himself. As there are two stirrups to his
saddle, he may mount on either side, but by no means on both; at
least, not at the same time. The former is generally considered the
most graceful method of mounting. If he has known Mr. Rarey he may
mount without the aid of stirrups. If not, he may try, but will
probably fail.

5th. The gentleman should always ride on the right side of the lady.
According to some authorities, the right side is the left. According
to others, the other is the right. If the gentleman is left handed,
this will of course make a difference. Should he be ambidexter, it
will be indifferent.

6th. If the gentleman and lady meet persons on the road, these will
probably be strangers, that is if they are not acquaintances. In
either case the gentleman and lady must govern themselves accordingly.
Perhaps the latter is the evidence of highest breeding.

7th. If they be going in different directions, they will not be
expected to ride in company, nor must these request those to turn
and join the others; and _vice versa_. This is indecorous, and
indicates a lack of _savoir faire_.

8th. If the gentleman’s horse throw him he must not expect him to pick
him up, nor the lady; but otherwise the lady may. This is important to
be borne in mind by both.

9th. On their return, the gentleman will dismount first and assist
the lady from her horse, but he must not expect the same courtesy in
return.

N. B.--These rules apply equally to every species of equitation, as
pony riding, donkey riding, rocking horse riding, or “riding on a
rail.” There will, of course, be modifications required, according to
the form and style of the animal.

SONG OF THE RECENT REBELLION.

AIR: “_Lord Lovell_.”

Lord Lovell he sat in St. Charles’ Hotel,
In St. Charles’ Hotel sat he;
As fine a case of a rebel swell,
As ever you’d wish to see, see, see,
As ever you’d wish to see!

Lord Lovell the town had sworn to defend,
A-waving his sword on high;
He swore that the last ounce of powder he’d spend,
And in the last ditch he would die, die, die,
And in the last ditch he would die.

He swore by black and he swore by blue,
He swore by the stars and bars,
That never he’d fly from a Yankee crew
While he was a son of Mars, Mars, Mars,
While he was a son of Mars.

He had fifty thousand gal-li-ant men,
Fifty thousand men had he,
Who had all sworn with him they would never surren-
Der to any tarnation Yankee, kee, kee,
To any tarnation Yankee.

Sir Farragut came with a mighty fleet;
With a mighty fleet came he;
And Lord Lovell instanter began to retreat,
Before the first boat he could see, see, see,
Before the first boat he could see.

His “fifty thousand gal-li-ant men”
Dwindled down to thousands six,
Who heard a distant cannon, and then,
Commenced a-cutting their sticks, sticks, sticks--
Commenced a-cutting their sticks.

“Oh, tarry, Lord Lovell!” Sir Farragut cried;
“Oh, tarry, Lord Lovell!” cried he;
“I rather think not,” Lord Lovell replied,
“For I’m in a great hurree, ree, ree,
For I’m in a great hurr_ee_!

“I like the drinks at St. Charles’ Hotel,
But I never could bear strong Porter,
Especially when it is served in a shell,
Or mixed in an iron mortar!”

“I reckon you’re right,” Sir Farragut said,
“I reckon you’re right,” said he;
“For if my PORTER should fly to your head,
A terrible crash there’d be, be, be,
A terrible crash there’d be!”

Oh, a wonder it was to see them run!
A wonderful thing to see--
And the Yankees sailed up without shooting a gun,
And captured their great citee, tee, tee,
And captured their great citee.

Lord Lovell kept running all day and all night,
Lord Lovell a-running kept he,
For he swore that he couldn’t abide the sight
Of the gun of a live Yankee, kee, kee,
Of the gun of a live Yankee.

When Lord Lovell’s life was brought to a close
By a sharp-shooting Yankee gunner,
From his head there sprouted a red, red--nose,
From his feet a scarlet runner!

OTHER PARODIES.

“_Come into the garden, Maud!_”

Come out in the garden, Jane,
For the black bear, night, has run,
Come out in the garden, Jane,
It’s time the party was done;
And the chickens commence to cackle again,
And the cocks crow, one by one.

For a breeze begins to blow,
And the planet of Jupiter, he,
Grows shaky and pale, as the dawn, you know,
Comes striding over the sea;
Grows pale, as the dawn keeps coming, you know,
Grows paler and paler to be.

All night have the tulips shaked,
At the noise of the fiddle and drum,
All night has the trumpet-vine quivered and quaked,
As the sounds of the dancing have come;
Till the chickens and cocks in the hen-roost waked,
And they stopped the fiddle and drum.

I said to the tulip, “It’s I,” says I,
Whom she likes best of them all;
“When will they let her alone?” says I,
“She’s tired I know of the ball.
Now part of the folks have said good-bye,
And part are now in the hall;
They’ll all be off directly,” says I,
“And then I’m over the wall.”

I said to the pink, “Nigh over, I think,
The dancing and glancing and fun:
O young Lloyd Lever, your hopes will sink
When you find the charmer is won!
We’re one, we’re one,” I remarked to the pink,
“In spirit already one.”

And the red of the pink went into my face,
As I thought of your sweet “I will;”
And long I stood in that slippery place,
For I heard our waterfall spill,
Spill over the rocks and run on in the race,
The mill-race down by the mill,
From the tree where I feebly stated my case,
To the fence where you answered “I will.”

The drowsy buttercup went to bed
Nor left a lock of her hair;
The great sunflower he nodded his head
And the poppy snored in his chair;
But the pink wasn’t sleepy at all, she said,
Wishing my pleasure to share,
No tulip or pink of them cared for bed,
They knew I expected you there.

Queen pink of the feminine pinks in there,
Come out in the garden to me,
In the velvet basque, silk-lined you wear,
Queen pink and tulip you be:
Bob out little face, running over with hair,
And let the hollyhocks see.

Is that the marigold’s laugh I hear,
Or the sound of her foot as ’t fell?
She is coming, my duck, my dear;
She is coming, my bird, my belle.
The blood-pink cries; “She is near, she is near,”
And the pale pink sobs: “Do tell!”
The snap-dragon says: “D’you see her? D’you see her?”
And the tulip, “Yes, there by the well!”

She is coming, my joy, my pet,
Let her trip it, soft as she chose,
My pulses would livelier get
Were I dying there under the rose;
My blood flow rapider yet
Were I buried down under the rose,
Would start and trickle out ruby and wet
And bubble wherever she goes.

CLEON HATH A MILLION ACRES.

Brown has pockets running over,
Ne’er a dime have I;
Brown he has a wife and children,
Bachelor am I;
Brown he has a dozen servants,
One of ’em am I;
Yet the poorest of us couple
’s Brown; I’ll tell you why.

Brown, ’tis true, possesseth dollars,
All creation I;
And the income that it gives me
Lieth in my eye.

Brown he is a sleepy fellow,
Wide-awake am I;
He in broad-cloth, I in tow-cloth,
Handsomest am I.

Brown has had no education;
Mine you couldn’t buy;
He don’t know we call him “noodle,”
I assert it, I;
Brown, I tell you you’re a noodle,
Noodle you will die;
Who speaks first to change conditions?
--I declare--it’s I!

“WHEN I THINK OF MY BELOVED.”

(_Algonquin Song, in “Hiawatha.”_)

When I think of him I love so,
Oh lor! think of him I love so,
When I am a-thinking of him--
Ouch! my sweetheart, my Bee-no-nee!

Oh lor! when we left each other
He presented me a thimble--
As a pledge, a silver thimble,
Ouch! my sweetheart, my Bee-no-nee!

“I’ll go ’long with you,” he whispered,
Oh lor! to the place you come from;
“Let me go along,” he whispered,--
Ouch! my sweetheart, my Bee-no-nee!

“It’s awful fur, full fur,” I answered,
“Fur away it is,” I answered,
“Oh lor! yes, the place I come from--”
Ouch! my sweetheart, my Bee-no-nee!

As I looked ’round for to see him,
Where I left him for to see him,
He was looking for to see me--
Ouch! my sweetheart, my Bee-no-nee!

On the log he was a-sitting,
On the hollow log a-sitting,
That was chopped down by somebody--
Ouch! my sweetheart, my Bee-no-nee!

When I think of him I love so,
Oh lor! think of him I love so,
When I am a-thinking of him--
Ouch! my sweetheart, my Bee-no-nee!
(_From “Milkanwatha.”_)

“NEVER STOOPS THE SOARING VULTURE.”

(_Also from “Milkanwatha.”_)

Never jumps a sheep that’s frightened,
Over any fence whatever,
Over wall, or fence, or timber,
But a second follows after,
And a third, upon the second,
And a fourth, and fifth, and so on,
First a sheep, and then a dozen,
Till they all, in quick succession,
One by one have got clean over.

So misfortunes almost always,
Follow after one another,
Seem to watch each other always;
When they see the tail uplifted,
In the air the tail uplifted,
As the sorrow leapeth over;
Lo! they follow, thicker, faster,
Till the air of earth seems darkened
With the tails of sad misfortunes,
Till our heart within us, weary,
Cry out: “Are there more a-coming?”

THE FALLS OF LODORE.

“Rising and leaping, sinking and creeping,
Striking and raging, as if a war waging,
All around and around, with endless rebound,
Confounding, astounding,
Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound!

“Recoiling, turmoiling, and toiling and boiling,
And dashing, and flashing, and splashing and crashing,
All at once, and all o’er, with a mighty uproar;
And THIS way the water comes down at Lodore!”

A disappointed, “disillusioned,” tourist expresses below _his_ view of the subject, which slightly differs from Southey’s.

Do you want to be told how it is that the water
Comes down at Lodore?
Why then I’m the man
Of all others, that can,
Or, rather, the man of all others, that _ought_ to
Be able to tell you, without any more
Fuss;
Thus!

Behind a small cavern,
Suppose a dark cavern,
Or ravine, more correctly,
From whose summit directly
As from a stone pitcher,
Out of the which, a
Volume of fluid
Enough for a Druid
To wade to his knees in,
Pours out unceasin’-
Gly down, and not up;
Which would be a sup-
Position so very
To nature contrary,
That it couldn’t be thought a
Supposable case,
For a cascade of water
On any man’s place;
Much more, at Lodore,
Where the water has always come down, heretofore.
Down deep precipices,
And awful abysses,
Ten feet, or fifteen,
The water is seen
To drip, skip, trip, slip, dip

A gill in a minute, in great agitation;
Then goes it again,
With a very perpen-
Dicular smash, dash, splash, crash;
A pint, at the least calculation!
Making no bones
Of wetting the stones,
Which can’t get out,
But wriggle about,
A whole quart of the cascade has got ’em;
And the way they go
Down, isn’t slow;
Rumble, and jumble, and tumble;
Hip, hop, drop, whop, stop!
A gallon has got to the bottom!

And the moral of that is, said the Duchess, that tourists shouldn’t see NIAGARA before they visit Lodore.

“TELL ME, YE WINGED WINDS.”

Tell me, my secret soul,
Oh, tell me, Hope and Faith,
Is there no resting-place
From women, girls, and death?
Is there no happy spot
Where bachelors are blessed,
Where females never go,
And men escape that pest?
Faith, Hope, and Love, best boon to mortals given,
Waved their bright wings, and whispered, “Yes, in Heaven!”

SEEING IS BELIEVING: SEEING IS DECEIVING.

Here is a row of capital letters, and of figures, of ordinary size and shapes:

SSSSXXXXZZZZZ33338888

They are such as are made up of two parts, of similar form. Look carefully at these, and you will perceive that the upper halves of the characters are a very little smaller than the lower halves--so little that, at a mere glance, we should declare them to be of equal size. Now, turn the page upside down, and, without any careful looking, you will see that this difference in size is very much exaggerated--that the real top half of the letter is very much smaller than the other half. It will be seen by this that there is a tendency in the eye to enlarge the upper part of any object upon which it looks. Thus two circles of unequal size might be drawn and so placed that they would appear exactly alike.

FANTASTIC NAMES.

An Ohio lady told me that she knew three young ladies belonging to one family, named severally:

_Regina_, _Florida Geneva_, and _Missouri Iowa_. And that an ill-starred child, born about the time of the first Atlantic cable _furor_, was threatened with the name of _Atalanta Telegrapha Cabelletta_!

The cable collapsed, and the child escaped; but a young lady of Columbus, born January 1, 1863, was less fortunate. She was named by her parents in honor of the event of that day, _Emancipation Proclamation_, and is known by the pet name “Proklio.”

I knew a boy named _Chief Justice Marshall_; a young man, (greatness was thrust upon him,) named _Commodore Perry V----r_, and have been told of a little girl named by her novel-loving mother, _Lady Helen Mar_.

Mrs. C., of Western New York, was, in her girlhood, acquainted with a boy who by no means “rejoiced in the name” of _John Jerome Jeremiah Ansegus P. S. Brown McB----e_.

A colored woman in Dunkirk named her infant son in honor of two lawyers there: _Thomas P. Grosvenor William O. Stevens D----s_; and, at an Industrial school in Detroit, there was some years ago a colored boy named _Nicholas Evans Esquire Providence United States of America Jefferson Davis B----s_.

In Cazenovia there once lived a young lady named _Encyclopedia Britannica D----y_.

There, too, Messrs. _Hyde_ and _Coop_ lived side by side for several years. Then Mr. _Hyde_ moved out of town, and spoiled that little game.

It was noted as a coincidence when a Mr. _Conkrite_, of Tecumseh, Mich., sold his dwelling-house and lot to Mrs. _Cronkite_.

A farmer in Allegany county, N. Y., named his children _Wilhelmina Rosalinda_, _Sobriski Lowanda_, _Eugertha Emily_, _Hiram Orlaska_, _Monterey Maria_ and _Delwin Dacosti_. The following are also vouched for as genuine American names: _Direxa Polyxany Dodge_, _Hostalina Hypermnestra Meacham_, _Keren Habuch Moore_ and _Missouri Arkansas Ward_.

There lived in Greenfield, N. Y., a certain Captain _Parasol_; and, at Niagara Falls, for a time, a Methodist minister named _Alabaster_.

I have lately heard of a Mrs. _Achilles_, a Mr. and Mrs. _December_, a _John January_, and a Mr. _Greengrass_; and of an Indiana girl, at school in Cincinnati, named _Laura Eusebia Debutts Miranda M’Kinn Parron Isabella Isadora Virginia Lucretia A----p_.

In 1874 one of the young ladies at a certain convent school in West Virginia, was Miss _Claudia Deburnabue Bellinger Mary Joseph N----p_.

The following are names of stations on the “E. and N. A. Railway,” New Brunswick: _Quispamsis_, _Nanwigewank_, _Ossekeag_, _Passekeag_, _Apohaqui_, _Plumweseep_, _Penobsquis_, _Anagance_, _Petitcodiac_, _Shediac_, _Point du Chene_; and we should particularly like to hear a conductor sing them.

LADIES’ NAMES.

_Their Sound._

There is a strange deformity,
Combined with countless graces,
As often in the ladies’ names
As in the ladies’ faces.
Some names are fit for every age,
Some only fit for youth;
Some passing sweet and musical,
Some horribly uncouth;
Some fit for dames of loftiest grades,
Some only fit for scullery maids.

Ann is too plain and common,
And Nancy sounds but ill;
Yet Anna is endurable,
And Annie better still.
There is a grace in Charlotte,
In Eleanor a state,
An elegance in Isabelle,
A haughtiness in Kate:
And Sara is sedate and neat,
And Ellen innocent and sweet.

Matilda has a sickly sound,
Fit for a nurse’s trade;
Sophia is effeminate,
And Esther sage and staid;
Elizabeth’s a matchless name,
Fit for a queen to wear--
In castle, cottage, hut or hall,
A name beyond compare:
And Bess and Bessie follow well,
But Betsy is detestable.

Maria is too forward,
And Gertrude is too gruff,
Yet, coupled with a pretty face,
Is pretty name enough:
And Adelaide is fanciful,
And Laura is too fine,

But Emily is beautiful,
And Mary is divine;
Maud only suits a high-born dame,
And Fanny is a baby name.

Eliza is not very choice,
Jane is too blunt and bold,
And Martha somewhat sorrowful,
And Lucy proud and cold.
Amelia is too light and gay,
Fit only for a flirt,
And Caroline is vain and shy,
And Flora smart and pert;
Louisa is too soft and sleek--
But Alice, gentle, chaste and meek.

And Harriet is confiding,
And Clara grave and mild,
And Emma is affectionate,
And Janet arch and wild;
And Patience is expressive,
And Grace is old and rare,
And Hannah, kind and dutiful,
And Margaret, frank and fair;
And Faith, and Hope, and Charity
Are heavenly names for sisters three.

LADIES’ NAMES.

THEIR SIGNIFICANCE.

Frances is frank and free;
Bertha is purely bright;
Clara is illustrious;
Cecilia, dim of sight.
Katharine is pure;
Barbara, from afar;
Mabel is lovable;
Lucy is a morning star.

Wisdom is Sophia’s name;
Happiness, Letitia’s;
Adelaide a princess is;
Beatrice, delicious.[2]
Susan is a lily;
Julia has soft hair;
Sara is a lady;
Rosalind, as roses fair.

Constance, firm and resolute;
Grace is favor meet;
Emily has energy;
Melicent is honey-sweet.
Elizabeth and Isabel
To GOD are consecrate;
Edith is happiness;
Maud has courage great.

Mary or Maria,
Star of the sea;
Margaret, a pearl;
Agnes, chastity.
Agatha is truly kind;
Eleanor is light;
Esther is good fortune;
Elvira’s soul is white.

Antoinette, Anne, Anna,
Grace and favor rare;
Geraldine and Bridget,
Strong beyond compare.
Noble is Eugenia;
Flora, queen of flowers;
Virginia is purity;
Let her grace be ours!

GEOGRAPHICAL PROPRIETY.

The Brewers should to Malta go,
The dullards all to Scilly,
The Quakers to the Friendly Isles,
The Furriers to Chili.
Spinsters should to the Needles go;
Wine-bibbers to Burgundy;
Gourmands may lunch at Sandwich Isles,
Wits sail to Bay of Fundy.

Cooks, from Spithead, should go to Greece;
And, while the Miser waits
His passage to the Guinea Coast,
Spendthrifts are in the Straits.
The Babies (bless their little hearts!)
That break our nightly rest,
Might be sent off to Babylon,
To Lapland, or to Brest.

Musicians hasten to the Sound;
Itinerants to Rome;
And let the race of hypocrites
At Canton find their home.
Lovers should fly to Cape Good Hope,
Or castles build in Spain;
Debtors should go to Oh-I-Owe;
Our Sailors to the Maine.

Bold Bachelors to the United States;
Maids to the Isle of Man;
The Gardener should to Botany go;
And Shoeblacks to Japan.
This all arranged, and misplaced men
Would then no longer vex us;
While any not provided for
Could go, at once, to Texas!

THE CAPTURE.

When, in the tenth century, the Tartars, led by their ruthless chief, invaded Hungary, and drove its king from the disastrous battle-field, despair seized upon all the inhabitants of the land. Many had fallen in conflict, many more were butchered by the pitiless foe, some sought escape, others apathetically awaited their fate. Among the last was a nobleman who lived retired on his property, distant from every public road. He possessed fine herds, rich corn fields, and a well stocked house, built but recently for the reception of his wife, who now for two years had been its mistress.

Disheartening accounts of the general misfortune had reached his secluded shelter, and its peaceful lord was horror-stricken. He trembled at every sound, at every step; he found his meals less savory; his sleep was troubled; he often sighed, and seemed quite lost and wretched. Thus anxiously anticipating the troubles which menaced him, he sat, one day, at his well closed window, when suddenly a Tartar, mounted on a fiery steed, galloped into the court. The Hungarian sprang from his seat, ran to meet his guest, and said:

“Tartar, thou art my lord; I am thy servant; all thou seest is thine. Take what thou fanciest; I do not oppose thy power. Command; thy servant obeys.”

The Tartar immediately leaped from his horse, entered the house, and cast a careless glance on all the precious adornments it contained. His eyes rested upon the brilliant beauty of the lady of the house, who appeared, tastefully attired, to greet him there, no less graciously than her consort.

The Tartar seized her, with scarcely a moment’s hesitation, and, unheedful of her shrieks, swung himself upon the saddle, and spurred away, carrying off his lovely booty.

All this was but an instant’s work. The nobleman was thunderstruck, yet he recovered, and hastened to the gate. He could hardly distinguish, in the distance, the figures of the lady and her relentless captor. At length a deep sigh burst from his overcharged heart, and he exclaimed in the bitterness of his bereavement:

“Alas! poor Tartar!”

* * * * *

Matrimony has been defined An insane desire on the part of a young man to pay a young woman’s board. But it might be said, with equal justice, to be An insane desire on the part of a young woman, to secure--a master.

* * * * *

THE FIRST MARRIAGE.--And Adam said: “This is now bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called woman because she was taken out of man. Therefore shall a man leave his father and mother and cleave unto his wife. They shall be one flesh.”

No cards.

* * * * *

In a country church-yard is found this epitaph: “Here lie the bodies of James Robinson and Ruth his wife;” and, underneath, this text: “Their warfare is accomplished.”

* * * * *

A lady having died unmarried at the age of sixty-five, the following epitaph was engraved upon her tombstone:

“She was fearfully and wonderfully maid.”

* * * * *

“This animal,” said a menagerie-man, “is exceedingly timid and retired in its habits. It is seldom seen by the human eye--sometimes never!”

* * * * *

If it was Talleyrand who described language as a gift bestowed upon man in order to enable him to conceal his thoughts, he scarcely made that use of it, when, in reply to some friend who asked his opinion of a certain lady, he said: “She has but one fault--she is insufferable!”

* * * * *

“What do you want?” demanded an irate house-holder, called to the window at eleven o’clock, by the ringing of the door-bell:

“Want to stay here all night.”

“Stay there, then!” Window closed emphatically.

* * * * *

“I want to go to the Revere,” said a stranger in Boston to a citizen on the street.

“Well, you may go, if you’ll come back pretty soon,” was the satisfactory reply.

* * * * *

“I wish to take you apart for a few moments,” one gentleman said to another in a mixed company.

“Very well,” said the person addressed, rising and preparing to follow the first speaker; “but I shall insist on being put together again!”

* * * * *

Two gentlemen meeting at the door of a street-car in Toledo, and entering together, both faultlessly dressed for the evening, one of them, glancing at his companion’s attire, asked briskly: “Well! who is to be bored to-night?” “I don’t know,” said the other, _as_ briskly, “Where are you going?”

* * * * *

This is the way it sounded to the congregation:

“Wawkaw swaw daw aw waw,
Thaw saw thaw Law ahwaw,
Wawkaw taw thaw rahvawvaw braw
Aw thaw rahjawsaw aw!”

this is what the choir undertook to sing:

“Welcome sweet day of rest,
That saw the Lord arise!
Welcome to this reviving breast,
And these rejoicing eyes!”

* * * * *

Mary Wortley Montague was epigrammatic when she divided mankind into “three classes--men, women, and the Hervey family”; an English writer of the present century, when he summed up Harriet Martineau’s creed, in a travesty on the Mohammedan confession of faith, “There is no God, and Harriet is his prophet;” an English critic, who described Forster’s Life of Charles Dickens as a “Biography of John Forster, with Reminiscences of Dickens”; an American, who said of one of his own noted countrymen (and it is equally true of many others), “He is a self-made man, and he worships his Creator;” finally, President Grant, when he exclaimed: “Sumner does not believe the Bible! I am not surprised; he didn’t write it!”

* * * * *

Charles Francis Adams, in his eloquent eulogy on W. H. Seward, lapses into a mixed metaphor which is, perhaps, all things considered, one of the most remarkable on record. “One single hour,” he says, “of the will displayed by General Jackson, at the time when Mr. Calhoun--the most powerful leader secession ever had--was abetting active measures, would have _stifled the fire in its cradle_.”

This is scarcely excelled even by Sir Roche Boyle’s celebrated trope: “I smell a rat. I see him floating in the air. But, mark me, I shall nip him in the bud!”

* * * * *

M. B. was planning plank walks from the front doors of his Ellicottville cottage to the gate, wishing to combine greatest convenience with least possible encroachment upon the verdure of the modest lawn. “Friends in council,” assisting at his deliberations, took diverse views of the case. One would have the walks meet obliquely in the form of a Y. Another insisted that whatever angles there were, should be right angles, etc. Finally, M. B. remarked: “Well! we don’t seem to agree. No two of us agree. I think I’ll plank the yard all over, and, where I _want_ the grass to grow BORE HOLES!”

* * * * *

Readers who admire the elliptical and suggestive style, and who, therefore, adore Mrs. R. H. D. and Mrs. A. D. T. W., ought to be pleased with the instructions given by a Philadelphian million-heiress to her agent, in this wise, (_audivi_):

“Where the men are at work, they will throw stones and earth and timbers against that tree, and there is no use in it. By a little care they could avoid it, but they won’t _be_ careful. So I’d like you, as soon as possible, to put a protection around it--_because it isn’t necessary_.”

... “No, you needn’t drive her out of the grounds. Cows are not allowed to run in the street, and the owner is liable for trespass if they do. Shut her up in the yard, and if the owner don’t come for her to-morrow--Pound her--_because there is a law against it_.”

* * * * *

“Aha!” said a Hibernian gentleman, surprised at his neighbor’s unusual promptness; “Aha! So you’re first, at last! you were always behind before!”

Another Emerald Islander, speaking at his breakfast table of the difference between travel by steam and the old mode, thus illustrated the point: “Afore the rail-road was built, if ye left Elmira at noon, and drove purty fast, ye might likely get to Corning to tea. But to-day, if ye were to start from Elmira at noon on an Express train for Corning, why, ye’re there _Now_!”

* * * * *

Caledonian shrewdness and the Caledonian dialect, alike speak for themselves, in a “bonny Scot’s” definition of metaphysics: “When the mon wha is listenin’, dinna ken what the ither is talkin’ aboot, and the mon wha is talkin’ dinna ken it himsel’, that is metapheesicks.”

* * * * *

“Be what you would seem to be,” said the Duchess, in Lewis Carroll’s delightfully droll story of “Alice’s Adventures,”--“or, if you like it put more simply: Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others, that what you were or might have been, was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.”

That is slightly metapheesickal, perhaps; and the same objection might be urged against Dr. Hunter’s favorite motto: “It is pretty impossible, and, therefore, extremely difficult for us to convey unto others those ideas whereof we are not possessed of ourselves.”

It was Dr. Hunter, who, some years before the war, returned from Florida, where he had spent the winter in a vain quest of health, and exhibited to one of his friends a thermometer he had procured there, marked from 120° only down to zero.

“It was manufactured at the South, I suppose?” she said.

“Oh, no!” was his reply: “It was made in Boston. It’s a Northern thermometer, with Southern principles.”

* * * * *

Colonel Bingham, of brave and witty memory, had resigned his commission in the Union army, and come home to die. During his lingering illness, the family received a visit from a distant relative, a Carolina lady, with strong secession proclivities, but with sufficient tact not to express them freely before her Northern friends. However, she could not altogether conceal them, but would often express her sympathy for “the soldiers, on both sides”--wish she could distribute the fruit of the peach-orchard among them, “on both sides,” &c.

One day when the Colonel was suffering, with his usual fortitude, one of his severest paroxysms of pain, the lady looked in at the door of his room, and, after watching him a few moments with an expression of the keenest commiseration, she turned away. Just as soon as he could breathe again, he gasped out:

“Cousin--Sallie--looked--as if--she was--sorry for me--on both sides!”

* * * * *

A young lady who had married and come north to live, visited, after the lapse of a year or two, her southern home. It was in the palmy days of the peculiar institution, and she was as warmly welcomed by the colored as by the white members of the household. Just before her arrival, a bottle of medicine with a strong odor of Bourbon had been uncorked, and, afterward, set away. After the first greetings were over, she exclaimed:

“I smell spirits. What have you been doing?”

Old Aunt Chloe, who had lingered in the room so as to be near the beloved new-comer, turned with an air of triumph to her mistress, who had often rebuked her belief in ghosts, and burst out with:

“Dar, Missus! Didn’t I allus tole yo dere was sperits in dis yere house? Sometimes I see ’em, sometimes I hear ’em, an’ yo wood’n b’lieve me; but now, Miss Lizzie’s done gone SMELL ’em!”

* * * * *

The first chapter of a Western novel is said to contain the following striking passage:

All of a sudden the fair girl continued to sit on the sands, gazing upon the briny deep, upon whose bosom the tall ships went merrily by, freighted, ah! who can tell with how much joy and sorrow, and pine lumber, and emigrants, and hopes and salt fish!

* * * * *

“The story,” said our host, with his inexhaustible humor and irresistible brogue, “is of a man who died, and forthwith presented himself at Heaven’s gate, requesting admittance.

‘Have ye bin to Purgatory, my mon?’ says St. Peter.

‘No, yer Riverence.’

‘Thin it’s no good. Ye’ll have to wait awhile.’

While the unlucky ‘Peri’ was slowly withdrawing, another candidate approached, and the same question was asked him.

‘No, yer Riverence, but I’ve been married.’

‘Well, that’s all the same,’ says St. Peter; ‘Come in!’

At this, the first arrival taking heart of grace, advanced again, and says he:

‘Plaze yer Riverence, I’ve been married twice!’

‘Away wid ye! Away wid ye!’ says St. Peter: ‘Heaven is no place for fools!’”

* * * * *

When, some years since, a coalition was talked of between the New York _World_, the _Times_, and the _Herald_, the _Tribune_ remarked that, after all, it would be nothing new; it was only the old story of “the world, the flesh, and the devil.”

* * * * *

In 1871, when the French President was undecided and inactive, in the face of all the frightful dangers that threatened the nation, some wit quoted at him the well known verse from Tennyson:

“Thiers! Idle Thiers! We know not what you mean!”

* * * * *

In ’73 a print was widely circulated in Germany, representing Bismarck pulling away at a rope which was fastened to the massive pillars of a Cathedral. At his side stood His Satanic Majesty, who thus questioned him:

“Well, my friend, what are you doing?”

“Trying to pull down the Church.”

“Trying to pull down the Church? And how long do you think it will take you?”

“Oh, perhaps three or four years.”

“Very good, my friend, very good! I have been trying that for the last eighteen hundred years; and, if you succeed in three or four, I’ll resign in your favor!”

* * * * *

When a certain United States Senator disappointed his Ohio constituents by voting on what they thought the wrong side of a question, some one (who must have enjoyed his opportunity) hit him with the following quotation: “He’s Ben Wade, and found wanting.”

* * * * *

“John P. Hale is an old goose!” exclaimed General Cass. Some friend was kind enough to repeat this saying to the Senator; who replied with a smile, (and, surely this was the “retort courteous,”) “Tell General Cass that he’s a Michi-gander!”

* * * * *

At a public dinner in Boston, nearly twenty years ago, Judge Story proposed as a toast: “The Orator of the Day: Fame follows merit wherEVER IT goes!” To which Mr. Everett responded: “The President of the Day: To whatever height the fabric of jurisprudence may aspire in this country, it can never rise above one Story!”

* * * * *

A newspaper wit announces the discovery of a buried city in the following pathetic terms: Another lost city has been found on the coast of Siberia. Now let the man who lost it make his appearance, pay for this advertisement, and take his old ruins away.

* * * * *

It has been said that the faculty of generalization belongs equally to childhood and to genius. Was she a genius, clad in sable robes, and bewailing the recent loss of her husband--she was certainly not a child--who observed in conversation, with most impressive pathos: “For we are all liable to become a widow!”

CHARACTERISTIC SAYINGS OF AMERICANS.

Franklin said many things that have passed into maxims, but nothing that is better known and remembered than “He paid dear, very dear, for his whistle.”

Washington made but very few epigrammatic speeches. Here is one: “To be prepared for war is the most effectual means of preserving peace.”

Did you ever hear of old John Dickinson? Well, he wrote of Americans in 1768: “By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall.”

Patrick Henry, as every school-boy knows, gave us, “Give me liberty, or give me death,” and “If this be treason, make the most of it.”

Thomas Paine had many quotable epigrammatic sentences: “Rose like a rocket; fell like a stick;” “Times that try men’s souls;” “One step from the sublime to the ridiculous,” etc., etc.

Jefferson’s writings are so besprinkled that it is difficult to select. In despair we jump at “Few die and none resign,” certainly as applicable to office-holders now as in Jefferson’s time.

Henry Lee gave Washington his immortal title, “First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen.”

Charles Cotesworth Pinckney declared in favor of “Millions for defence, but not one cent for tribute.”

“Peaceably if we can; forcibly if we must,” is from Josiah Quincy, 1841.

John Adams did not say, “Live or die, survive or perish, I am for the constitution,” but Daniel Webster said it for him.

The revolutionary age alone would give us our article, had we time to gather pearls. Coming down, we pass greater, but not more famous men.

Davy Crockett was the illustrious author of “Be sure you are right, and then go ahead.”

Andrew Jackson gave us “The Union--it must be preserved.”

Benton almost lost his original identity in “Old Bullion,” from his “hard money” doctrines.

Governor Throop, of New York, was called “Small Light Troop” for years, from a phrase in a thanksgiving proclamation.

Scott’s “hasty plate of soup” lasted his lifetime.

Taylor’s battle order, “A little more grape, Captain Bragg,” will be quoted after he is forgotten by “all the world and the rest of mankind.”

Seward is known for the “irrepressible conflict,” wherever the English language is spoken.

To Washington Irving we owe “The Almighty Dollar.”

Rufas Choate gave us “glittering generalities.”

Tom Corwin’s “welcome with bloody hands to hospitable graves,” gave him more unenviable criticism than any other saying in his life.

Calhoun gave us “state rights” as a most pernicious and absurd equivalent for national supremacy under the constitution.

Douglas applied “squatter sovereignty,” though it is probable that Cass invented it and Calhoun named it.

Stringfellow was the original “Border Ruffian.”

War times gave us no end of epigrammatic utterances. Those of Lincoln alone would fill a volume--chief of these, is that noble sentiment: “With charity to all, and malice toward none.”

McClellan’s “All quiet along the Potomac” was repeated so often that its echo will “ring down through the ages.”

To Gen. Butler the country was indebted for the phrase “Contraband of War,” as applied to fugitive negroes found within our lines.

Grant gave us “Fight it out on this line,” “Unconditional surrender,” “I propose to move immediately upon your works,” “Bottled up,” and a hundred others. It seems to have escaped notice that Grant is responsible for more of these characterizing, elementary crystallizations of thought, than any other military leader of modern times.

One odd example occurs, in his response to Gen. Sheridan’s telegram: “If things are pushed, Lee will surrender.” “Push things!” was the reply, and that has passed into a proverb.

DIALECTICAL.

The peculiarities of the Yankee dialect are most amusingly exemplified by James Russell Lowell, in the Biglow Papers, especially in the First Series, from which the following extract is taken:

I ’spose you wonder where I be; I can’t tell fur the soul o’ me
Exactly where I be myself, meanin’ by thet, the hull o’ me.
When I left hum, I hed two legs, an’ they wa’n’t bad ones neither;
The scaliest trick they ever played, wuz bringin’ on me hither--
Now one on ’em’s I dunno where, they thought I was a-dyin’,
An’ cut it off, because they said ’twas kind of mortifyin’;
I’m willin to believe it wuz, and yet I can’t see, nuther,
Why one should take to feelin’ cheap a minute sooner ’n t’other,
Sence both wuz equilly to blame--but things is ez they be;
It took on so they took it off, an’ thet’s enough for me.
Where’s my left hand? Oh, darn it! now I recollect wut’s come on’t.
I haint no left hand but my right, and thet’s got jest a thumb on’t,
It aint so handy as it wuz to calkylate a sum on’t.
I’ve lost one eye, but then, I guess, by diligently usin’ it,
The other’ll see all I shall git by way of pay fer losin’ it.
I’ve hed some ribs broke, six I b’lieve, I haint kep’ no account of
’em;
When time to talk of pensions comes, we’ll settle the amount of ’em.
An’ talkin’ about broken ribs, it kinder brings to mind
One that I couldn’t never break--the one I left behind!
Ef you should see her, jest clean out the spout o’ your invention,
And pour the longest sweetnin’ in about a annooal pension;
And kinder hint, in case, you know, the critter should refuse to be
Consoled, I aint so expensive now to keep, as wut I used to be:--
There’s one eye less, ditto one arm, an’ then the leg that’s wooden,
Can be took off, an’ sot away, whenever there’s a pudden!

(Letter from Birdofreedom Sawin, a Mexican volunteer, to a friend at home.)

* * * * *

The Dundreary “dialect” is admirably illustrated in

A LONDON EXQUISITE’S OPINION OF “UNCLE TOM’S CABIN.”

Aw must wead “Uncle Tom,”--a wawk
Which aw’m afwaid’s extwemely slow:
People one meets begin to talk
Of Mrs. Hawiet Beechah Stowe.

’Tis not as if aw saw haw name
To walls and windahs still confined;
All that is meawly vulgah fame:
Aw don’t wespect the common mind.

But Staffa’d House has made haw quite
Anothah kind of pawson look;
A countess would pawsist last night,
In asking me about haw book.

She wished to know if aw admiawd
Eva, which quite confounded me;
And then haw ladyship inquiawed
Whethaw aw didn’t hate Legwee.

Bai Jove! Aw was completely flawed;
Aw wished myself, or haw, in Fwance;
And that’s the way a fellah’s bawed
By evewy gahl he asks to dance!

Aw felt myself a greataw fool
Than aw had evaw felt befaw;
Aw’ll study at some wagged school
The tale of that old blackamaw!

It must be this same kind of Englishman, of whom the following story is told: He was traveling on some American railroad, when a tremendous explosion took place; the cars, at the same time, coming to a sudden halt. The passengers sprang up in terror, and rushed out to acquaint themselves with the cause and extent of the mischief, all but His Serene Highness, who continued reading his newspaper. In a moment some one rushed back, and informed him that the boiler had burst. “Awe!” grunted the Englishman.

“Yes, and sixteen people have been killed!”

“Awe!” he muttered again.

“And--and,” said his interlocutor, with an effort, “your own man--your servant--has been blown into a hundred pieces!”

“Awe! Bring me the piece that has the key of my portmanteau!”

THE LEGAL “DIALECT.”

ODE TO SPRING.

WRITTEN IN A LAWYER’S OFFICE.

Whereas, on sundry boughs and sprays
Now divers birds are heard to sing,
And sundry flowers their heads upraise,
Hail to the coming on of spring!

The birds aforesaid, happy pairs!
Love ’midst the aforesaid boughs enshrines,
In household nests, themselves, their heirs,
Administrators and assigns.

The songs of the said birds arouse
The memory of our youthful hours,
As young and green as the said boughs,
As fresh and fair as the said flowers.

Oh, busiest term of Cupid’s court!
Where tender plaintiffs actions bring;
Seasons of frolic and of sport,
Hail, as aforesaid, coming spring!

* * * * *

“Broad Wiltshire” is sampled below, in a psalm given out by the Clerk of Bradford Parish Church during an Episcopal visitation:

Let us zing to the praayze an’ glawry ’o God, dree verses of the
hundred an’ vourteenth zaam,--a version specially ’dapted to the
’casion, by myself:

Why hop ye zo, ye little hills,
And what var do’ee skip?
Is it acoz you’m proud to zee
His grace, the Lard Bish_ip_?

Why skip ye zo ye little hills,
And what var do’ee hop?
Is it acoz to preach to we,
Is comed the Lard Bish_op_?

Ees--he has comed to preach to we,--
Then let us aal strick up,
An’ zing a glawrious zong of praayze,
An’ bless the Lard Bish_up_!

* * * * *

Persons fond of economizing words, sometimes use figures (are they figures of speech?) and letters, in their stead. Thus, the fate of all earthly things is presented by the consonants DK--a view of the case entirely consonant with our own observation.

The following is a printer’s short-hand method of expressing his emotions:

2 KT J.

An SA now I mean 2 write
2 U, sweet KT J,
The girl without a ||,
The belle of UTK.

I 1der if U got the 1
I wrote 2 U, B4
I sailed in the RKDA,
And sent by LN Moore?

My MT head will scarce contain
A calm IDA bright,
But, 8T miles from U, I must
M { this chance to write.