Chapter C: F. BROWNE, Artemus Ward's Lecture

"Come here, my boy, hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, sir;
Jist tell me who King Jonah was;
Now tell me, if you can, sir."
"King Jonah was the strongest man
That ever wore a crown, sir;
For though the whale did swallow him,
It couldn't keep him down, sir."

"You're right, my boy, hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, sir;
Just tell me who that Moses was;
Now tell me, if you can, sir."
"Shure Moses was the Christian name
Of good King Pharaoh's daughter;
She was a milkmaid, and she took
A _profit_ from the water."

J. A. SIDEY, _Mistura Curiosa_.

A little incident Charlotte Cushman once related
to me. She said a man in the gallery of
a theatre made such a disturbance that the play
could not proceed. Cries of "Throw him over" arose
from all parts of the house, and the noise became furious.
All was tumultuous above until a sweet and gentle female
voice was heard in the pit, exclaiming, "No! I pray
you, don't throw him over! I beg of you, dear friends,
don't throw him over, but--_kill him where he is_."

J. T. FIELDS, _Yesterdays with Authors_.

With all his conscience and one eye askew,
So false, he partly took himself for true;
Whose pious talk, when most his heart was dry,
Made wet the crafty crowsfoot round his eye;
Who, never naming God except for gain,
So never took that useful name in vain;
Made Him his catspaw and the Cross his tool,
And Christ the bait to trap his dupe and fool;
Nor deeds of gift, but deeds of grace he forged,
And snake-like slimed his victim ere he gorged;
And oft at Bible meetings, o'er the rest
Arising, did his holy oily best,
Dropping the too rough H in Hell and Heaven,
To spread the Word by which himself had thriven.

ALFRED TENNYSON, _Sea Dreams_.

Please the eyes and the ears, they will introduce
you to the heart, and, nine times in ten,
the heart governs the understanding.

LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Letters to his Son_.

The cup with trembling hands he grasps,
Close to his thirsty lips he clasps,
Ringed with its pewter rim--he gasps.

The eddying floor beneath him crawls,
He clutches at the flying walls,
Then like a lump of lead he falls.

_The Shotover Papers._

On fait souvent du bien pour pouvoir impunément
faire du mal.

LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions_.

There's a joy without canker or cark,
There's a pleasure eternally new,
'Tis to gloat on the glaze and the mark
Of china that's ancient and blue;
Unchipp'd all the centuries through
It has pass'd, since the chime of it rang,
And they fashion'd it, figure and hue,
In the reign of the Emperor Hwang.

ANDREW LANG, _Ballades in Blue China_.

Ceremony.--All that is considered necessary by
many in religion and friendship.

HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.

Rogues meet their due when out they fall,
And each the other blames, sir,
The pot should not the kettle call
Opprobrious sorts of names, sir.

LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.

I have nothing to say again' Craig, on'y it is a
pity he couldna be hatched o'er again, an'
hatched different.

_Mrs. Poyser_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam Bede_.

Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter,
Sermons and soda-water the day after.

LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.

[Dr. Busby] was once invited, during a residence at
Deal, by an old Westminster--who, from being
a very idle, well-flogged boy, had, after a course
of distinguished service, been named to the command
of a fine frigate in the Downs--to visit him on board
his ship. The doctor accepted the invitation; and,
after he had got up the ship's side, the captain piped all
hands for punishment, and said to the astonished doctor,
"You d--d old scoundrel, I am delighted to have the
opportunity of paying you off at last. Here, boatswain,
give him three dozen."

GRONOW, _Recollections_.

_GOOD AND BAD LUCK._

Good Luck is the gayest of all gay girls;
Long in one place she will not stay:
Back from your brow she strokes the curls,
Kisses you quick and flies away.

But Madame Bad Luck soberly comes
And stays--no fancy has she for flitting--
Snatches of true-love songs she hums,
And sits by your bed, and brings her knitting.

JOHN HAY, _Poems_.

I wish nine-tenths of the pictures that have been
painted had never been preserved; it is such a
nuisance having to go and see them.

_Ellesmere_, in HELPS's _Friends in Council_.

Victor Hugo is an Egoist, or, to use a stronger
term, he is a Hugoist.

HEINRICH HEINE, _Musical Notes from Paris_.

_ON WOMEN AS UNIONISTS._

Among the men, what dire divisions rise--
For "Union" one, "No Union" t'other cries.
Shame on the sex that such dispute began--
Ladies are all for union--to a man!

ANON.

Si c'est un crime de l'aimer,
On n'en doit justement blâmer
Que les beautés qui sont en elle;
La faute en est au dieux
Qui la firent si belle,
Et non pas à mes yeux.

JEAN DE LINGENDES.

"Was not ---- very disagreeable?" "Why, he was
as disagreeable as the occasion would permit,"
Luttrell said.

SYDNEY SMITH, _Life and Letters_.

"I believe that nothing in the newspapers is
ever true," said Madame Phoebus.

"And that is why they are so popular,"
added Euphrosyne; "the taste of the age being so
decidedly for fiction."

LORD BEACONSFIELD, _Lothair_.

He that would shine, and petrify his tutor,
Should drink draught Allsopp in its "native pewter."