Chapter C: D. WARNER, My Summer in a Garden

_AN EPITAPH._

A lovely young lady I mourn in my rhymes:
She was pleasant, good-natured, and civil sometimes.
Her figure was good: she had very fine eyes,
And her talk was a mixture of foolish and wise.
Her adorers were many, and one of them said,
"She waltzed rather well! It's a pity she's dead!"

G. J. CAYLEY, in _Comic Poets_.

Anybody amuses me for once. A new acquaintance
is like a new book. I prefer it, even if
bad, to a classic.

_Lady Montfort_, in LORD BEACONSFIELD's _Endymion_.

Now I hold it is not decent for a scientific gent
To say another is an ass,--at least, to all intent;
Nor should the individual who happens to be meant
Reply by heaving rocks at him to any great extent.

BRET HARTE, _Complete Works_.

Story of Edward Walpole, who, being told, one
day at the "Garrick," that the confectioners had
a way of discharging the ink from old parchment
by a chemical process, and then making the parchment
into isinglass for their jellies, said, "Then I find a man
may now eat his deeds as well as his words."

R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.

What is the spell that 'twixt a saint and sinner
The diff'rence makes?--a sermon? Bah! a dinner.

ALFRED AUSTIN, _The Season_.

"I vent to the club this mornin', sir. There
vorn't no letters, sir." "Very good, Topping."
"How's missus, sir?" "Pretty well, Topping."
"Glad to hear it, sir. _My_ missus ain't very well,
sir." "No!" "No, sir, she's agoin', sir, to have a hincrease
werry soon, and it makes her nervous, sir; and
ven a young voman gets down at sich a time, sir, she
goes down werry deep, sir." To this sentiment I reply
affirmatively, and then he adds, as he stirs the fire (as if
he were thinking out loud), "Wot a mystery it is! Wot
a go is natur'!"

CHARLES DICKENS, _apud_ J. T. FIELDS.

The most forlorn--what worms we are!--
Would wish to finish this cigar
Before departing.

FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.

Mrs. Cadwallader says it is nonsense, people
going a long journey when they are married.
She says they get tired to death of each other,
and can't quarrel comfortably, as they would at home.

_Celia Brooke_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Middlemarch_.

Some think that man from a monkey grew
By steps of long generation,
When, after many blunders, a few
Good hits were made in creation;
But I can't comprehend this at all;
Of blind groping forces
Though Darwin discourses,
I rather incline
To believe in design
With Plato, and Peter, and Paul.

J. S. BLACKIE, _Musa Burschicosa_.

In a trial, where a German and his wife were giving
evidence, the former was asked by the counsel,
"How old are you?" "I am _dirty_." "And
what is your wife?" "Mine wife is _dirty-two_." "Then,
sir, you are a very nasty couple, and I wish to have
nothing further to say to either of you."

HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.

He'd better be apt with his pen
Than well-dressed, and well-booted and gloved,
Who likes to be liked by the men,
By the women who loves to be loved:
And Fashion full often has paid
Her good word in return for a gay word,
For a song in the manner of Praed,
Or an anecdote worthy of Hayward.

G. O. TREVELYAN, _Ladies in Parliament_.

Oh, my Maria! Alas! she married another. They
frequently do. I hope she is happy--because I
am.