J. Jemmett Browne,Songs of Many Seasons.
[LADY CHARLOTTE LINDSAY] said she had "sprained her ankle so often, and been told that it was worse than breaking her leg, that she said she had come to look upon a broken leg as a positive advantage."
Lord Houghton,Monographs.
BLOWS are sarcasms turned stupid.
George Eliot,Felix Holt.
THEY grieved for those who perished with the cutter,And also for the biscuit-casks and butter.
Lord Byron,Don Juan.
SOCIAL arrangements are awful miscarriages;Cause of all crime is our system of marriages.Poets with sonnets, and lovers with trysts,Kindle the ire of the Positivists.Husbands and wives should be all one community:Exquisite freedom with absolute unity.Wedding-rings worse are than manacled wrists—Such is the creed of the Positivists.
Mortimer Collins,The British Birds.
FOX, whose pecuniary embarrassments were universally recognized, being attacked by a severe indisposition, which confined him to his apartment, Dudley frequently visited him. In the course of conversation, Fox, alluding to his complaints, remarked that he was compelled to observe much regularity in his diet and hours; adding, "I live by rule, like clockwork." "Yes," replied Dudley; "I suppose you mean you go bytick, tick, tick."
Sir Nathaniel Wraxall,Memoirs.
PROBATUM EST.
ONE loss has a companion always.Semper,When people lose their train, they lose their temper.
Shirley Brooks,Wit and Humour.
WORKING by the hour tends to make one moral. A plumber working by the job, trying to unscrew a rusty, refractory nut, in a cramped position, where the tongs continually slipped off, would swear; but I never heard one of them swear, or exhibit the least impatience at such a vexation, working by the hour. Nothing can move a man who is paid by the hour. How sweet the flight of time seems to his calm mind!
C. D. Warner,My Summer in a Garden.
IT greets me in my festal hours,It brings my gloom relief;It sprinkles life with loveliest flowersAnd plucks the sting from grief.I'd smile at poverty and pain;I'd welcome death with glee—If to the last I might retainMy own—my upper G!
H. S. Leigh,Carols of Cockayne.
"MILTON Perkins," said the Siren, "not thy wealth do I admire,But the intellect that flashes from those eyes of opal fire;And methinks the name thou bearest cannot surely be misplaced;And—embrace me, Mister Perkins!" Milton Perkins her embraced.
Bret Harte,Complete Works.
TRUTH-VENDORS and medicine-vendors usually recommend swallowing. When a man sees his livelihood in a pill or a proposition, he likes to have orders for the dose, and not curious inquiries.
Felix Holt, inGeorge Eliot's novel.
STUART MILL on Mind and MatterAll our old Beliefs would scatter:Stuart Mill exerts his skillTo make an end of Mind and Matter.But had I skill, like Stuart Mill,His own position I could shatter:The weight of Mill I count as Nil—If Mill has neither Mind nor Matter.
Lord Neaves,Songs and Verses.
"AND how many hours a day did you do lessons?" said Alice."Ten hours the first day," said the Mock Turtle; "nine the next, and so on.""What a curious plan!" exclaimed Alice."That's the reason they're called lessons," the Gryphon remarked "because they lessen from day to day."
Lewis Carroll,Alice in Wonderland.
QUICONQUE n'a pas de caractère n'est pas un homme: c'est une chose.
Chamfort,Maximes.
IT'S hard work to tell which is Old Harry when everybody's got boots on.
Mrs. Poyser, inGeorge Eliot'sAdam Bede.
IWANT you to come and pass sentenceOn two or three books with a plot;Of course you know "Janet's Repentance"?I'm reading SirWaverleyScott,The story of Edgar and Lucy,How thrilling, romantic, and true!The Master (his bride was agoosey!)Reminds me of you.They tell me Cockayne has been crowningA poet whose garland endures:It was you who first spouted me Browning—That stupid old Browning of yours!His vogue and his verve are alarming;I'm anxious to give him his due,But, Fred, he's not nearly so charmingA poet as you!
Frederick Locker,London Lyrics.
JOSEPH Gillon was a Writer to the Signet. Calling on him one day in his writing office, Sir Walter Scott said, "Why, Joseph, this place is as hot as an oven." "Well," quoth Gillon, "and isn't it here that I make my bread?"
Lockhart,Life of Scott.
FOREVER! 'tis a single word!Our rude forefathers deem'd it two;Can you imagine so absurdA view?Forever! what abysms of woeThe word reveals, what frenzy, whatDespair! For ever (printed so)Did not.And nevermore must printer doAs men did longago; but run"For" into "ever," bidding twoBe one.Forever! passion-fraught, it throwsO'er the dim page a gloom, a glamour:It's sweet, it's strange, and I supposeIt's grammar.
C. S. Calverley,Fly Leaves.
WALKING down St. James's Street, Lord Chelmsford was accosted by a stranger, who exclaimed, "Mr. Birch, I believe?" "If you believe that, sir, you'll believe anything," replied the ex-chancellor, as he passed on.
Berkeley,Life and Recollections.
YOU snared me, Rose, with ribbons,Your rose-mouth made me thrall.Brief—briefer far than Gibbon's,Was my "Decline and Fall."
Austin Dobson,Vignettes in Rhyme.
THE reason we dislike vanity in others is becauseit is perpetually hurting our own.
Lord Lytton'sPelham.
THEN nymphs had bluer eyes than hose,England then measured men by blows,And measured time by candles.
Frederick Locker,London Lyrics.
AWOMAN'S choice usually means taking the only man she can get.
Mrs. Cadwallader, inGeorge Eliot'sMiddlemarch.
TO charm the girls he never spoke—Although his voice was fine;He found the most convenient wayWas just to drop a line.And many a gudgeon of the pond,If they could speak to-day,Would own, with grief, this angler hadA mighty "taking" way.
John Godfrey Saxe,Poems.
IAM always afraid of a fool: one cannot be sure that he is not a knave as well.
W. Hazlitt,Characteristics.
THE people is much given to stoning its prophets that it may worship their reliques with the greater fervency: dogs that bark at us to-day lick our bones to-morrow with true canine fidelity.
Heinrich Heine,Ludwig Beorne.
MONEY makes a man laugh. A blind fiddler playing to a company, and playing but scurvily, the company laughed at him. His boy that led him, perceiving it, cried, "Father, let us begone; they do nothing but laugh at you." "Hold peace, boy," said the fiddler; "we shall have their money presently, and then we will laugh at them."
Selden,Table Talk.
IN candent ire the solar splendour flames;The foles, languescent, pend from arid rames;His humid front the cive, anheling, wipes,And dreams of erring on ventiferous ripes.How dulce to vive occult from mortal eyes,Dorm on the herb with none to supervise,Carp the suave berries from the crescent vine,And bibe the flow from longicaudate kine!Me wretched! Let me curr to quercine shades!Effund your albid hausts, lactiferous maids!Oh, might I vole to some umbrageous clump,—Depart—be off—exude—evade—erump!
Oliver Wendell Holmes.
HE slaps me gently on the back. He's stopped too long in the wine-cellar. A little tasting is a dangerous thing.
F. C. Burnand,Happy Thoughts.
THE MAIDENS.
LOVERS, we pray you, gaining our consents,Let us, too, haveourmediæval bents;Give us, for cricket matches, tournaments.
THE WIDOWERS.
We are stout, nor will uncomfortably trussOur arms and legs, like fowls; no jousts for us;In armour we should look ridiculous.
THE FATHERS.
Of money, tournaments would cost a heap;Humour your sweethearts, sons, with something cheap;But look to settlements before you leap.
Once a Week.
HE [Samuel Beazley] suffered considerably a short time before his decease, and, his usual spirits occasionally forsaking him, he one day wrote so melancholy a letter that the friend to whom it was addressed, observed, in his reply, that it was "like the first chapter of Jeremiah." "You are mistaken, my dear fellow," retorted the wit; "it is the last chapter of Samuel."
J. R. Planché,Recollections.
NO one can perceive, as I'm a sinner,A very marked improvement in the dinner.We still consume, with mingled shame and grief,Veal that is tottering on the verge of beef,Veal void of stuffing, widowed of its ham,Or the roast shoulder of an ancient ram.
Decius Mus, inG. O. Trevelyan'sHorace at Athens.
"AS for that," said Waldershare, "sensible men are all of the same religion.""And pray what is that?" inquired the prince."Sensible men never tell."
Lord Beaconsfield,Endymion.
ON AN OLD LOVE.
UPON the cabin stairs we met, the voyage nearly over;You leant upon his arm, my pet, from Calais unto Dover!Andheis looking very glad, tho' I am feeling sadder,ThatI'mnot your companion-lad on that companion-ladder!
J. Ashby Sterry, inEnglish Epigrams.
IT strikes me that one mother-in-law is about enough to have in a family—unless you're very fond of excitement.
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 manThat 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 nameOf good King Pharaoh's daughter;She was a milkmaid, and she tookAprofitfrom the water."
J. A. Sidey,Mistura Curiosa.
ALITTLE 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 restArising, 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 markOf china that's ancient and blue;Unchipp'd all the centuries throughIt 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 callOpprobrious sorts of names, sir.
Lord Neaves,Songs and Verses.
IHAVE nothing to say again' Craig, on'y it is a pity he couldna be hatched o'er again, an' hatched different.
Mrs. Poyser, inGeorge Eliot'sAdam 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 comesAnd 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.
IWISH 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, inHelps'sFriends 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 blâmerQue les beautés qui sont en elle;La faute en est au dieuxQui la firent si belle,Et non pas à mes yeux.
Jean de Lingendes.
"WAS —— very disagreeable?" "Why, he was as disagreeable as the occasion would permit," Luttrell said.
Sydney Smith,Life and Letters.
"IBELIEVE 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."
C. S. Calverley,Verses and Translations.
LAUK, sir! Love's all in the fancy. One does not eat it, nor drink it: and as for the rest—why, it's a bother.
Corporal Bunting, inLytton'sEugene Aram.
"MR. O——'s affairs turn out so sadly that he cannot have the pleasure of waiting upon his lordship at his agreeable house on Monday next.—N.B. His wife is dead."
J. C. Young,Diary.
WHY, the Scotch tunes are just like a scolding, nagging woman. They go on with the same thing over and over again, and never come to a reasonable end. Anybody 'ud think the Scotch tunes had always been asking a question of somebody as deaf as old Taft, and had never got an answer yet.
Bartle Massey, inGeorge Eliot'sAdam Bede.
SOUL OF LADY.
TELL me, in this night of snow,Of happy Almack's, or the Row!Say in what carriages what fairConsume the ice in Berkeley Square;Or who in shops, with doubtful eye,Explore the silks they never buy;And how the hair is dressed in town,And what the shape of boot and gown?
WINDBAG.
Snow-mantled shadow, would you knowThe fashions of the world below?Still the coiled chignon starward towers,Still false back-hair falls down in showers;But now all subtle souls revertTo the abbreviated skirt,Whose velvetpaniersjust denoteThe gown, that else were petticoat.Nor is suchnaïveattire enough:Elizabeth's archaic ruffRings every neck; besides, they rival,With a High-Gothic-Hat-Revival,Old Mother Hubbard, and renewArcadianly the buckled shoe,To show, what's just a trifle shocking,The dimple of a snowy stocking.
W. J. Courthope,The Paradise of Birds.
BE virtuous, and you will be eccentric.
Mark Twain,Choice Works.
DON'T WE?
WE'RE informed that, in Happy Japan,Folks are free to believe what they can;But if they come teaching,And preaching and screeching,They go off to gaol in a van.Don't you wishthiswas Happy Japan?
Shirley Brooks,Wit and Humour.
IHOPE I appreciate the value of children. We should soon come to nothing without them. Without them the common school would languish. But the problem is, what to do with them in a garden. For they are not good to eat, and there is a law against making away with them. The law is not very well enforced, it is true; for people do thin them out with constant dosing, paregoric, and soothing-syrups, and scanty clothing. But I, for one, feel it would not be right, aside from the law, to take the life, even of the smallest child, for the sake of a little fruit, more or less, in the garden. I may be wrong; but these are my sentiments, and I am not ashamed of them.
C. D. Warner,My Summer in a Garden.
ON DR. TRAPP'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL.
MIND but thy preaching, Trapp; translate no further:Is it not written, "Thou shall do no murder"?
The Poetical Farrago(1794).
SHORTLY before his death, being visited by a clergyman whose features as well as language were more lugubrious than consoling, Hood looked up at him compassionately, and said, "My dear sir! I'm afraid your religion doesn't agree with you."
J. R. Planché,Recollections.
ON GRAPES AND GRIPES.
IN Spain, that land of monks and apes,The thing called wine doth come from grapes;But, on the noble river Rhine,The thing called gripes doth come from wine.
S. T. Coleridge,apudJ. C. Young.
OF Diggle, Barham used to tell many absurd stories. The most amusing of his practical jokes was one in which Barham had a share. The two boys having, in the course of one of their walks, discovered a Quakers' meeting-house, forthwith procured a penny tart of a neighbouring pastry-cook; furnished with this, Diggle marched boldly into the building, and, holding up the delicacy in the midst of the grave assembly, said with perfect solemnity, "Whoever speaks first shall have this pie." "Friend, go thy way," commenced a drab-coloured gentleman, rising, "go thy way, and——" "The pie's yours, sir!" exclaimed Master Diggle, politely, and placing it before the astounded speaker, hastily effected his escape.
R. H. D. Barham,Life of Barham.
TALKING of some poor relations who had been recipients of his bounty for years, Compton said, "Yes, sir, the whole tribe of them leaned on me for years;" and then added, in his own peculiar manner, "Forty years long was I grieved with this generation."
Memoir of Henry Compton.
THE ORANGE.
IT ripen'd by the river banks,Where, mask and moonlight aiding,Dons Blas and Juan play their pranks,Dark Donnas serenading.By Moorish damsel it was pluck'd,Beneath the golden day there;By swain 'twas then in London suck'd—Who flung the peel away there.He could not know in Pimlico,As little she in Seville,ThatIshould reel upon that peel,And—wish them at the devil.
Frederick Locker,London Lyrics.
KENNY said that Anthony Pasquin (who was a very dirty fellow) "died of a cold caught by washing his face."
Thomas Moore,Diary.
ON THE PRINCE REGENT'S ILLNESS.
THE Regent, sir, is taken ill;And all depends on Halford's skill;"Pray what," inquired the sage physician,"Has brought him to this sad condition?"When Bloomfield ventured to pronounce,"A little too much Cherry Bounce,"The Regent, hearing what was said,Raised from his couch his aching head,And cried, "No, Halford, 'tis not so!Cure us, Odoctor,—Curaçoa!"
H. Luttrell,apudBarham.
BRIGHAM YOUNG has two hundred wives. He loves not wisely, but two hundred well. He's dreadfully married. He's the most married man I ever saw in my life. He says that all he wants now is to live in peace for the remainder of his days, and have his dying pillow soothed by the loving hands of his family. Well, that's all right, I suppose; but if all his family soothe his dying pillow, he'll have to go out-doors to die.
C. F. Browne,Artemus Ward's Lecture.
AND I said, "What is written, sweet sister,At the opposite end of the room?"She sobbed, as she answered, "All liquorsMust be paid for ere leaving the room."
Bret Harte,Complete Works.
BE wiser than other people if you can, but do not tell them so.
Lord Chesterfield,Letters to his Son.
THE Walrus and the CarpenterWere walking close at hand;They wept like anything to seeSuch quantities of sand:"If this were only cleared away,"They said, "Itwouldbe grand!""If seven maids, with seven mops,Swept it for half a year,Do you suppose," the Walrus said,"That they could get it clear?""I doubt it;" said the Carpenter,And shed a bitter tear.
Lewis Carroll,Through the Looking-Glass.
WE easily convert our own vices into other people's virtues, the virtues of others into vices.
W. Hazlitt,Characteristics.
YOU'D better keep clear of love-letters,Or write them with caution and care;In faith, they may fasten your fetters,If wearing a conjugal air.
Lord Neaves,Songs and Verses.
AGAINST stupidity the gods themselves combat in vain.
Heinrich Heine,Art Notes from Paris.
ON LOVE AND MARRIAGE.
'TIS highly rational, we can't dispute,That Love, being naked, should promote a suit;But doth not oddity to him attachWhose fire's so oft extinguished by a match?
R. Garnett,Idylls and Epigrams.
LORD SHELBURNE could say the most provoking things, and yet appear unconscious of their being so. In one of his speeches, alluding to Lord Carlisle, he said, "The noble lord has written a comedy." "No, a tragedy." "Oh, I beg pardon, I thought it was a comedy."
Rogers,Table Talk.
THERE'S nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calmsAs rum and true religion.
Lord Byron,Don Juan.
SHE never speaks to any one, which is of course a great advantage to any one.
Lady Ashburton,apudLord Houghton.
I'M not denyin' the women are foolish: God Almighty made 'em to match the men.
Mrs. Poyser, inGeorge Eliot'sAdam Bede.
"YOU didn't know I drew? I learnt at school.""Perhaps you only learnt to draw your sword?""Why, that I can, of course—and also corks—And covers—haw! haw! haw! But what I mean,Fortification—haw!—in Indian ink,That sort of thing—and though I draw it mild,Yet that—haw! haw!—that may be called myforte.""Oh fie! for shame! where do you think you'll goFor making such a heap of foolish puns?""Why, to the Punjaub, I should think—haw! haw!That sort of job, you know, would suit me best."
C. J. Cayley,Las Alforgas.
TOUT le monde se plaint de sa mémoire, et personne ne se plaint de son jugement.
La Rochefoucauld,Réflexions.
ON THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.
WHEN lately Pym descended into Hell,Ere he the cups of Lethè did carouse,What place that was, he callèd loud to tell;To whom a Devil—"This is the Lower House."
William Drummond(1585-1649).
THE working-man is a noble creature—when he is quite sober.
Alexis, inW. S. Gilbert'sSorcerer.
DEFENDANT'S SONG.
wHEN first my old, old love I knew,My bosom swelled with joy;My riches at her feet I threw,—I was a love-sick boy!No terms seemed too extravagantUpon her to employ—I used to mope, and sigh, and pant,Just like a love-sick boy!But joy incessant palls the sense,And love, unchanged, will cloy,And she became a bore intenseUnto her love-sick boy!With fitful glimmer burnt my flame,And I grew cold and coy,At last, one morning, I becameAnother's love-sick boy!
W. S. Gilbert,Trial by Jury.
DINING one day where the host became exceedingly excited and angry at not being able to find any stuffing in a roasted leg of pork, Poole quietly suggested, "Perhaps it is in the other leg?"
J. R. Planché,Recollections.
IN 1848, Feargus O'Connor was charged in the House with being a republican. He denied it, and said he did not care whether the Queen or the Devil was on the throne. Peel replied: "When the honourable gentleman sees the sovereign of his choice on the throne of these realms, I hope he'll enjoy, and I'm sure he'll deserve, the confidence of the Crown."
Abraham Hayward,Essays.
ILOITER down by thorp and town;For any job I'm willing;Take here and there a dusty brown,And here and there a shilling.I deal in every ware in turn,I've rings for buddin' Sally,That sparkle like those eyes of her'n;I've liquor for the valet.The things I've done 'neath moon and starsHave got me into messes;I've seen the sky through prison bars,I've torn up prison dresses.But out again I come, and showMy face, nor care a stiver;For trades are brisk and trades are slow,But mine goes on for ever.
C. S. Calverley,Fly Leaves.
THEY may talk of the devotion of the sex, but the most faithful attachment in life is that of a woman in love—with herself.
Damas, inLord Lytton'sLady of Lyons.
THEY may talk as they please about what they call pelf,And how one ought never to think of one's self,And how pleasures of thought surpass eating and drinking—My pleasure of thought is the pleasure of thinkingHow pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho!How pleasant it is to have money!
Spirit, inA. H. Clough'sDipsychus.
WOMEN are generally consistent in their insincerity, if in nothing else.
Anna C. Steele.
LA plus perdue de toutes les journées est celle où l'on n'a pas ri.
Chamfort,Maximes.
OH, how can a modest young manE'er hope for the smallest progression—The profession's already so fullOf lawyers so full of profession?
John Godfrey Saxe,Poems.
IWAS speaking [to Charles Lamb] of my first brief, when he asked, "Did you not exclaim—'Thou great first cause, least understood'?"
Crabb Robinson,Diary.
EYE-GLASS—a toy which enables a coxcomb to see others, and others to see that he is a coxcomb.
Horace Smith,The Tin Trumpet.
SOME brag of telegraphs and rails,Coals, steam, and gas, and a' that,But rattling mails and cotton balesNe'er made a man for a' that;For a' that, and a' that,Their figures, facts, and a' that,The first of facts is Thought, and whatHigh Thought begets, for a' that!
J. S. Blackie,Musa Burschicosa.
VIRGINIA city—the wild young metropolis of the new Silver State. Fortunes are made there in a day. There are instances on record of young men going to this place without a shilling—poor and friendless—yet by energy, intelligence, and a careful disregard to business, they have been enabled to leave there, owing hundreds of pounds.
C. F. Browne,Artemus Ward's Lecture.
NOTHING is accounted so proper in England as property.
Guesses at Truth.
AS the husband is, the wife is,—he is stomach-plagued and old;And his curry soups will make thy cheek the colour of his gold.When his feeble love is sated, he will hold thee surely thenSomething lower than his hookah,—something less than his cayenne.What is this? His eyes are pinky. Was't the claret? Oh, no, no—Bless your soul! it was the salmon—salmon always makes him so.
Bon Gaultier Ballads.
ACLERGYMAN had commenced an able discourse, when one of the hearers exclaimed, "That's Tillotson!" This was allowed to pass; but very soon another exclamation followed, "That's Paley." The preacher then addressed the disturber: "I tell you, sir, if there is to be a repetition of such conduct, I shall call on the churchwarden to have you removed from the church." "That's your own," was the ready reply.
Mark Boyd,Reminiscences.
COLLEGE mostly makes people like bladders—just good for nothing but t' hold the stuff as is poured into 'em.
Bartle Massey, inGeorge Eliot'sAdam Bede.
WERTHER had a love for CharlotteSuch as words could never utter;Would you know how first he met her?She was cutting bread and butter.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, having seen his bodyBorne before her on a shutter,Like a well-conducted person,Went on cutting bread and butter.
W. M. Thackeray.
PERHAPS the best illustration I can give of [Bagehot's] more sardonic humour, was his remark to a friend who had a church on the grounds near his house:—"Ah, you've got the church in the grounds! I like that. It's well the tenants shouldn't bequitesure that the landlord's power stops with this world."
R. H. Hutton,Memoir of W. Bagehot.
ON WIVES.
ALL wives are bad,—yet two blest hours they give,When first they wed, and when they cease to live.
Palladas, trans. byJ. H. Merivale.
"YES, my dear curate," said the Professor, "what I am enjoying is the champagne that you drink, and what you are enjoying is the champagne that I drink. This is altruism; this is benevolence; this is the sublime outcome of enlightened modern thought. The pleasures of the table, in themselves, are low and beastly ones; but if we each of us are only glad because the others are enjoying them, they become holy and glorious beyond description."
"They do," cried the curate rapturously, "indeed they do. I will drink another bottle for your sake."
W. H. Mallock,The New Paul and Virginia.
SOME d—d people have come in, and I must stop. By d—d, I mean deuced.
LambtoWordsworth.
OURS is so far-advanced an age!Sensation-tales, a classic stage,Commodious villas!We boast high art, an Albert Hall,Australian meats, and men who callTheir sires gorillas!
Austin Dobson,Vignettes in Rhyme.
IT being asked at Paris whom they would have as godfather for Rothschild's baby—"Talleyrand," said a Frenchman. "Pourquoi, monsieur?" "Parcequ'il est le moins chrétien possible."
B. R. Haydon,Diary.
BEFORE the blast are driven the flying clouds—(And I should like to blow a cloud as well,)The vapours wrap the mountain-tops in shrouds—(I left my mild cheroots at the hotel.)Dotting the glassy surface of the stream,(Oh, here's a cigarette—my mind's at ease.)The boats move silently, as in a dream—(Confound it! where on earth are my fusees?)
H. S. Leigh,Carols of Cockayne.
EMILE de Girardin, the famous political writer, a natural son of Alexandre de Girardin, becoming celebrated, Montrond said to his father, "Dépêchez-vous de le reconnaître, ou bientôt il ne vous reconnaîtra pas."
Gronow,Recollections.
MARRIAGE from love, like vinegar from wine—A sad, sour, sober beverage,—by timeIs sharpen'd from its high celestial flavour,Down to a very homely household savour.
Lord Byron,Don Juan.
Lettuce is like conversation; it must be fresh, and crisp, so sparkling that you scarcely notice the bitter in it. Lettuce, like conversation, requires a good deal of oil, to avoid friction, and keep the company smooth; a pinch of attic salt; a dash of pepper; a quantity of mustard and vinegar, by all means, but so mixed that you will notice no sharp contrasts; and a trifle of sugar.
C. D. Warner,My Summer in a Garden.
MARTIAL IN LONDON.
EXQUISITE wine and comestiblesFrom Slater, and Fortnum and Mason;Billiards, écarté, and chess-tables;Water in vast marble basin;Luminous books (not voluminous)To read under beech-trees cacuminous;One friend, who is fond of a distich,And doesn't get too syllogistic;A valet who knows the complete artOf service—a maiden, his sweetheart;—Give me these, in some rural pavilion,And I'll envy no Rothschild his million.
Mortimer Collins, inThe Owl.
HE was much too disliked not to be sought after. Whatever is once notorious, even for being disagreeable, is sure to be coveted.
Lord Lytton'sPelham.
TO GIBBS, CONCERNING HIS POEMS.
YOU ask me if I think your poems good;If I could praise your poems, Gibbs,—I would.
Egerton Webbe,apudLeigh Hunt.
WHAT I admire in the order to which you belong [the aristocracy], is that they do live in the air, that they excel in athletic sports; that they can only speak one language; and that they never read. This is not a complete education, but it is the highest education since the Greek.
Phœbus, inLord Beaconsfield'sLothair.
RELIABLE.(A MILD PROTEST.)
SHUT up a party who uses "Reliable"When he means "Trustworthy;" 'tis undeniableThat his excuses are flimsy and friable,And his conceptions of grammar most pliable.No doubt he'd pronounce this line's last word "enviable:"Invent, for bad fish (which he'd sell) the word "criable,"Say that his faded silk hat might be dyeable,And accent French vilely—allude tole diable.If his name's William, 'twould be most enj'yableTo see Mr. Calcraft preparing to tie a Bill.Now let Punch hope he has stamped out "Reliable."
Shirley Brooks,Wit and Humour.
"ISEE," said my clerical neighbour, addressing myself, "you stick to port." "Yes," I said, "and so am safe from being half-seas over."
W. H. Harrison,Reminiscences.
ALL tradesmen cry up their own wares:In this they agree well together:The Mason by stone and lime swears;The Tanner is always for leather;The Smith still for iron would go;The Schoolmaster stands up for teaching;And the Parson would have you to knowThere's nothing on earth like his preaching.
Lord Neaves,Songs and Verses.
MATRIMONY—the high sea for which no compass has yet been invented.
Heinrich Heine,Musical Notes from Paris.
ODAUGHTERS! make your markets while you can,For bloom soon groweth as the water wan;The early bird picks up the marrying man.
Once a Week.
HE was the most even-tempered man I ever knew: he was always cross.
Mrs. Jenkins,Within an Ace.
IHAVE a horse—a ryghte good horse—Ne doe I envie thoseWho scour ye plaine in headie course,Tyll soddaine on theyre noseThey lyghte wyth unexpected force—It ys—a horse of clothes.I have a saddel—"Sayst thou soe?With styrruppes, knyghte, to boote?"I sayde not that—I answere "Noe,"—Yt lacketh such, I woot—It ys a mutton-saddel, loe!Parte of ye fleecie brute.
Lewis Carroll,Phantasmagoria.
STORY of Lord Middleton, out hunting, calling to Gunter the confectioner to "Hold hard," and not ride over the hounds. "My horse is so hot, my Lord, that I don't know what to do with him." "Ice him, Gunter, ice him."
R. H. Barham,Life.
SHE'S rising now, and taking off her bonnet,And probably will end by sitting on it;For oft, as sad experiences teach,The novice, trembling from his maiden speech,Drops flustered in his place, and crushes flatHis innocent and all-unconscious hat.