Then I sat down bewildered and exhausted.
The president of the society came up and bathed my head with cold water, and said: "What made you carry on so towards the last?"
I said I was trying to make that confounded old fool laugh, in the second row.
And he said: "Well, you were wasting your time, because he is deaf and dumb, and as blind as a badger!"
Now, was that any way for that old man's nephew to impose on a stranger and orphan like me? I simply ask you, as a man and a brother, if that was any way for him to do?
NEW-MADE HONOUR[Sidenote:Ingoldsby]
(Imitated from Martial)
A Friend I met, some half hour since—"Good-morning, Jack!" quoth I;The new-made Knight, like any Prince,Frowned, nodded, and passed by;When up came Jem—"Sir John, your Slave!""Ah, James; we dine at eight—Fail not"—(low bows the supple knave)—"Don't make my lady wait."The King can do no wrong? As I'm a sinner,He's spoilt an honest tradesman and my dinner.
[Sidenote:Anon.]
With nose so long and mouth so wide,And those twelve grinders side by side,Dick, with a very little trial,Would make an excellent sun-dial.
[Sidenote:Wellesley (altered)]
Nicias, a doctor and musician,Lies under very foul suspicion.He sings, and without any shameHe murders all the finest music:Does he prescribe? our fate's the same,If he shall e'er find me or you sick.
[Sidenote:Anon.]
Now the Graces are four and the Venuses two,And ten is the number of Muses;For a Muse and a Grace and a Venus are you,My dear little Molly Trefusis.
[Sidenote:Merivale]
Dick cannot blow his nose when'er he pleases,His nose so long is, and his arm so short,Nor ever cries, God bless me! when he sneezes—He cannot hear so distant a report.
OLD LONDON SPORTS[Sidenote:Stow]
"Every year also at Shrove Tuesday, that we may begin with children's sports, seeing we all have been children, the schoolboys do bring cocks of the game to their master, and all the forenoon they delight themselves in cock-fighting; after dinner, all the youths go into the fields to play at the ball.
"The scholars of every school have their ball, or baton, in their hands; the ancient and wealthy men of the city come forth on horseback to see the sport of the young men and to take part of the pleasure in beholding their agility. Every Friday in Lent a fresh company of young men comes into the field on horseback, and the best horseman conducteth the rest. Then march forth the citizens' sons, and other young men, with disarmed lances and shields; and there they practise feats of war. Many courtiers likewise, when the king lieth near, and attendants of noblemen, do repair to these exercises; and, while the hope of victory doth inflame their minds, do show good proof how serviceable they would be in martial affairs.
"In Easter holidays they fight battles on the water; a shield is hung upon a pole, fixed in the midst of the stream, a boat is prepared without oars, to be carried by violence of the water, and in the fore part thereof standeth a young man, ready to give charge upon the shield with his lance; if so be he breaketh his lance against the shield, and doth not fall, he is thought to have performed a worthy deed; if so be, without breaking his lance, he runneth strongly against the shield, down he falleth into the water, for the boat is violently forced with the tide; but on each side of the shield ride two boats, furnished with young men, which recover him that falleth as soon as they may. Upon the bridge, wharfs, and houses, by the river's side stand great numbers to see and laugh thereat….
"When the great fen, or moor, which watereth the walls of the city on the north side, is frozen, many young men play upon the ice; some, striding as wide as they may, do slide swiftly; others make themselves seats of ice, as great as millstones; one sits down, many hand in hand to draw him, and one slipping on a sudden, all fall together; some tie bones to their feet and under their heels, and, shoving themselves by a little picked staff, do slide as swiftly as a bird flieth in the air, or an arrow out of a crossbow. Sometime two run together with poles, and, hitting one the other, either one or both do fall, not without hurt; some break their arms, some their legs, but youth desirous of glory in this sort exerciseth itself against the time of war. Many of the citizens do delight themselves in hawks and hounds; for they have liberty of hunting in Middlesex, Hertfordshire, all Chiltern, and in Kent to the water of Cray." Thus far Fitzstephen of sports.
These, or the like exercises, have been continued till our time, namely, in stage-plays, whereof ye may read in anno 1391, a play by the parish clerks of London at the Skinner's Well besides Smithfield, which continued three days together, the king, queen, and nobles of the realm being present. And of another, in the year 1409, which lasted eight days, and was of matter from the creation of the world, whereat was present most part of the nobility and gentry of England. Of late time, in place of those stage-plays, hath been used comedies, tragedies, interludes, and histories, both true and feigned; for the acting whereof certain public places, as the Theatre, the Curtain, etc., have been erected. Also cocks of the game are yet cherished by divers men for their pleasures, much money being laid on their heads, when they fight in pits, whereof some be costly made for that purpose. The ball is used by noblemen and gentlemen in tennis-courts, and by people of meaner sort in the open fields and streets.
The marching forth of citizens' sons, and other young men on horseback, with disarmed lances and shields, there to practise feats of war, man against man, hath long since been left off, but in their stead they have used, on horseback, to run at a dead mark, called a quintain; for note whereof I read, that in the year of Christ 1253, the 38th of Henry III., the youthful citizens, for an exercise of their activity, set forth a game to run at the quintain; and whoever did best should have a peacock, which they had prepared as a prize. Certain of the king's servants, because the court lay then at Westminster, came, as it were, in spite of the citizens, to that game, and, giving reproachful names to the Londoners, which for the dignity of the city, and ancient privilege which they ought to have enjoyed, were called barons, the said Londoners, not able to bear so to be misused, fell upon the king's servants, and beat them shrewdly, so that, upon complaint to the king, he fined the citizens to pay a thousand marks. This exercise of running at the quintain was practised by the youthful citizens as well in summer as in winter, namely, in the feast of Christmas, I have seen a quintain set upon Cornhill, by the Leadenhall, where the attendants on the lords of merry disports have run, and made great pastime; for he that hit not the broad end of the quintain was of all men laughed to scorn, and he that hit it full, if he rid not the faster, had a sound blow in his neck with a bag full of sand hung on the other end. I have also in the summer season seen some upon the river of Thames rowed in wherries with staves in their hands, flat at the fore end, running one against another, and for the most part, one or both overthrown and well ducked.
On the holy days in summer the youths of this city have in the field exercised themselves in leaping, dancing, shooting, wrestling, casting of the stone or ball, etc.
And for defence and use of the weapon, there is a special profession of men that teach it. Ye may read in mine Annals how that in the year 1222 the citizens kept games of defence, and wrestlings, near unto the hospital of St. Giles-in-the-Field, where they challenged and had the mastery of the men in the suburbs, and other commoners, etc. Also, in the year 1453, of a tumult made against the mayor at the wrestling besides Clerke's Well, etc. Which is sufficient to prove that of old time the exercising of wrestling, and such like, hath been much more used than of later years. The youths of this city also have used on holy days after evening prayer, at their masters' doors, to exercise their wasters and bucklers; and the maidens, one of them playing on a timbrel, in sight of their masters and dames, to dance for garlands hung athwart the streets; which open pastimes in my youth being now suppressed, worse practices within doors are to be feared. As for the baiting of bulls and bears, they are to this day much frequented, namely, in Bear gardens, on the Bank's side, wherein be prepared scaffolds for beholders to stand upon. Sliding upon the ice is now but children's play; but in hawking and hunting many grave citizens at this present have great delight, and do rather want leisure than good-will to follow it.
Of triumphant shows made by the citizens of London, ye may read, in the year 1236, the 20th of Henry III., Andrew Bockwell then being mayor, how Eleanor, daughter to Reymond, Earl of Provence, riding through the city towards Westminster, there to be crowned Queen of England, the city was adorned with silks, and in the night with lamps, cressets, and other lights without number, besides many pageants and strange devices there presented; the citizens also rode to meet the king and queen, clothed in long garments embroidered about, with gold and silks of divers colours, their horses gallantly trapped to the number of three hundred and sixty, every man bearing a cup of gold or silver in his hand, and the king's trumpeters sounding before them. These citizens did minister wine, as bottlers, which is their service, at their coronation. More, in the year 1293, for victory obtained by Edward I., against the Scots, every citizen, according to their several trade, made their several show, but especially the fishmongers, which in a solemn procession passed through the city, having, amongst other pageants and shows, four sturgeons gilt, carried on four horses; then four salmons of silver on four horses; and after them six and forty armed knights riding on horses, made like luces of the sea; and then one representing St. Magnus, because it was upon St. Magnus's day, with a thousand horsemen, etc.
One other show, in the year 1377, was made by the citizens for disport of the young prince, Richard, son of the Black Prince, in the feast of Christmas, in this manner: On the Sunday before Candlemas, in the night, one hundred and thirty citizens, disguised, and well horsed, in a mummery, with sound of trumpets, sack-butts, cornets, shalmes, and other minstrels, and innumerable torchlights of wax, rode from Newgate, through Cheap, over the bridge, through Southwark, and so to Kennington beside Lambhith, where the young prince remained with his mother and the Duke of Lancaster his uncle, the Earls of Cambridge, Hertford, Warwick, and Suffolk, with divers other lords. In the first rank did ride forty-eight in the likeness and habit of esquires, two and two together, clothed in red coats and gowns of say or sandal, with comely visors on their faces; after them came riding forty-eight knights in the same livery of colour and stuff; then followed one richly arrayed like an emperor; and, after him some distance, one stately attired like a pope, whom followed twenty-four cardinals, and after them eight or ten with black visors, not amiable, as if they had been legates from some foreign princes. These maskers, after they had entered Kennington, alighted from their horses, and entered the hall on foot; which done, the prince, his mother, and the lords came out of the chamber into the hall, whom the said mummers did salute, showing by a pair of dice upon the table their desire to play with the prince, which they so handled that the prince did always win when he cast them. Then the mummers set to the prince three jewels, one after another, which were a bowl of gold, a cup of gold, and a ring of gold, which the prince won at three casts. Then they set to the prince's mother, the duke, the earls, and other lords, to every one a ring of gold, which they did also win. After which they were feasted, and the music sounded, the prince and lords danced on the one part with the mummers, which did also dance; which jollity being ended, they were again made to drink, and then departed in order as they came.
The like was in Henry IV., in the 2nd of his reign, he then keeping his Christmas at Eltham, twelve aldermen of London and their sons rode in a mumming, and had great thanks.
Thus much for sportful shows in triumphs may suffice. Now for sports and pastimes yearly used.
First, in the feast of Christmas, there was in the king's house, wheresoever he was lodged, a lord of misrule, or master of merry disports, and the like had ye in the house of every nobleman of honour or good worship, were he spiritual or temporal. Amongst the which the mayor of London, and either of the sheriffs, had their several lords of misrule, ever contending, without quarrel or offence, who should make the rarest pastimes to delight the beholders. These lords beginning their rule on Alhollon eve, continued the same till the morrow after the Feast of the Purification, commonly called Candlemas day. In all which space there were fine and subtle disguisings, masks, and mummeries, with playing at cards for counters, nails, and points, in every house, more for pastime than for gain.
Against the feast of Christmas every man's house, as also the parish churches, were decked with holm, ivy, bays, and whatsoever the season of the year afforded to be green. The conduits and standards in the streets were likewise garnished; amongst the which I read, in the year 1444, that by tempest of thunder and lightning, on the 1st of February, at night, Paule's Steeple was fired, but with great labour quenched; and towards the morning of Candlemas Day, at the Leadenhall in Cornhill, a standard of tree being set up in midst of the pavement, fast in the ground, nailed full of holm and ivy, for disport of Christmas to the people, was torn up, and cast down by the malignant spirit (as was thought), and the stones of the pavement all about were cast in the streets, and into divers houses, so that the people were sore aghast of the great tempests.
In the week before Easter, had ye great shows made for the fetching in of a twisted tree, or with, as they termed it, out of the woods into the king's house; and the like into every man's house of honour or worship.
In the month of May, namely, on May-day in the morning, every man, except impediment, would walk into the sweet meadows and green woods, there to rejoice their spirits with the beauty and savour of sweet flowers, and with the harmony of birds, praising God in their kind; and for example hereof, Edward Hall hath noted, that King Henry VIII., as in the 3rd of his reign, and divers other years, so namely, in the 7th of his reign, on May-day in the morning, with Queen Katherine his wife, accompanied with many lords and ladies, rode a-maying from Greenwich to the high ground of Shooter's Hill, where, as they passed by the way, they espied a company of tall yeomen, clothed all in green, with green hoods, and bows and arrows, to the number of two hundred; one being their chieftain, was called Robin Hood, who required the king and his company to stay and see his men shoot; whereunto the King granting, Robin Hood whistled, and all the two hundred archers shot off, loosing all at once; and when he whistled again they likewise shot again; their arrows whistled by craft of the head, so that the noise was strange and loud, which greatly delighted the king, queen, and their company. Moreover, this Robin Hood desired the king and queen, with their retinue, to enter the greenwood where, in harbours made of boughs, and decked with flowers, they were set and served plentifully with venison and wine by Robin Hood and his men, to their great contentment, and had other pageants and pastimes, as ye may read in my said author.
I find also, that in the month of May, the citizens of London of all estates, lightly in every parish, or sometimes two or three parishes joining together, had their several mayings, and did fetch in Maypoles, with divers warlike shows, with good archers, morris-dancers, and other devices, for pastime all the day long; and toward the evening they had stage-plays, and bonfires in the streets.
Dear Sir,
Since from a long time ago I had hope of a favour of you, but (ah! ah!) was disappointed for this. I take this opportunity to enquire your health that how you are in these days. It may not be out of place to state that I and my two sons are enjoying, but my misfortunes has never ceased by day and night to embarras me and torture, and I am plunged in utmost degredation of sorrow to no purpose. At present a law suit is hurled on me by that unworthy and unnatural or I should rather say that prodigious blackguard man viz my brother who is son of my father and mother, and (ah! ah!) how mortifying it is indeed to a person of my temperature of meekness.
Had my late lamented and disceased father had even the least scintillation that how his patrimony would involve me in his mechanitions he would sooner have never died than wish my brother to share it and his revered bones are now perhaps turning to behold my misfortunate circumstances. But I must beg leaf to refrain this matter further to complain to you.
I had heard that your eldest male issue had attended some examination papers in Allahabad. Kindly inform that for what department he is constrained and prone to pass and sat for.
If my younger son who is an ambilitous fellow and having read up to F.A. could obtain some trifling job such as a honest penny turner I would be greatly gratified for I have now no hope of success of him in the revenue department. His abilities are superior on the whole and he would without fail characterise any appointment with honesty. If you could ensure his jobbery I am well self satisfied of his success.
Think him as your own issue and have kindness upon him. What more can I request to you than this? His yeares are now entring to 24 and goverment has fixed 25 yeares for his service so please do needfull in a quick march time instantly on his behalf. I will be much thankfull to you for this.
I had not been to shooting lately owing to an iron thorn penetrated into my foot which made impossible to walk, but my shikari make some prey latterly of some herin and murghabi birds which I failed to send you on account of hotness of atmosphere which would make it rotton. Hence you should excuse my fault. But I will be with all my heart if your sons will come to prey here. I will myself accompany and shoot him too. At this season many herins are plentifull and one noise from raifel or gun will bring down many dead ones.
My elephant also will ride them in the jungles and give shikar to them as there are lipperds concealed in the thicket adjacent near the river. I have shooted a lippard latterly and his carcase I have sent to the chamar to make it very nicely without a bad smell coming. If you will wish for its carcase then I can send after the bad smell has been excluded from the carcase.
There is also a janwar called wild bores here which is ferocious and dangerous sorts to shoot with gun but I can arrange for them also as they are highly destructivrous to corns of poor peoples and are worthy for killing because they devast the fields too much by their carnivrous fooding. I have also four nice horses for riding which I can let your sons use for the hunting purpose. They are well accustomed to the bum-bum-budam of guns and are mild and un-shy.
Also please inform to your sons that do not bring any fooding for my hunble kitchen will supply their all things for eating, also fruits and etcetera for filling the belly of them.
I have specially provided 5 or 6 big and strong cock fowles and their females for boiling on the day they will honour my poor house and some biscuits and sodda waters and whisky. I have also some syrop of home made which is strong and very delicshous. If your sons are like you and not taking whisky then I can substitute another unintoxicating liquid for that. Kindly inform on what day they will arrive at my poor house that I may arrange their coming comfortably from railway station for the 10 miles to my poor house.
If you can come so much better but send your sons by all means.
With respects,
I am,
Yours sincerely.
Last night while perambulating city in search of evenings zephyrs I came to learn of the demise of Babu … of your Honour's office who leaves widow and sorrowing children who will feed their bellies the Devil knows how. I submit myself to your Honour's approval and patronage for the vacancy. For my qualifications I am damnably well up in precise-writing (Note. He means précis writing) and am much addicted to the swearing of European oaths. I am no believing old and rotten superstition of ancient forefathers, but am iconoclast smashing idols to detriment of damn scoundrels. If I should be successful for the post, I and my wife and children will fall on our bended knees, as in duty bound, and offer up prayers for your Honour, your Honour's lady, and your posthumous children to follow up hereafter.
Your most obedient servant.
"LOVE, WITH A WITNESS!"[Sidenote:Hood]
He has shaved off his whiskers and blackened his brows,Wears a patch and a wig of false hair—But it's him—oh, it's him !—we exchanged lover's vowsWhen I lived up in Cavendish Square.
He had beautiful eyes, and his lips were the same,And his voice was as soft as a flute—Like a Lord or a Marquis he looked, when he cameTo make love in his master's best suit.
If I lived for a thousand long years from my birth,I shall never forget what he told—How he loved me beyond the rich women of earth,With their jewels and silver and gold!
When he kissed me, and bade me adieu with a sigh,By the light of the sweetest of moons,Oh, how little I dreamt I was bidding good-byeTo my Misses's teapot and spoons!
MR TESTATOR[Sidenote:Charles Dickens]
Mr. Testator took a set of chambers in Lyons Inn when he had but very scanty furniture for his bedroom, and none for his sitting-room. He had lived some wintry months in this condition, and had found it very bare and cold. One night, past midnight, when he sat writing and still had writing to do that must be done before he went to bed, he found himself out of coals. He had coals downstairs, but had never been to his cellar; however, the cellar-key was on his mantelshelf, and if he went down and opened the cellar it fitted, he might fairly assume the coals in that cellar to be his. As to his laundress, she lived among the coal-wagons and Thames watermen—for there were Thames watermen at that time—in some unknown rat-hole by the river, down lanes and alleys on the other side of the Strand. As to any other person to meet him or obstruct him, Lyons Inn was dreaming, drunk, maudlin, moody, betting, brooding over bill-discounting or renewing—asleep or awake, minding its own affairs. Mr. Testator took his coal-scuttle in one hand, his candle and key in the other, and descended to the dismallest underground dens of Lyons Inn, where the late vehicles in the streets became thunderous and all the water-pipes in the neighbourhood seemed to have Macbeth's Amen sticking in their throats, and to be trying to get it out. After groping here and there among low doors to no purpose, Mr. Testator at length came to a door with a rusty padlock which his key fitted. Getting the door open with much trouble, and looking in, he found no coals, but a confused pile of furniture. Alarmed by this intrusion on another man's property, he locked the door again, found his own cellar, filled his scuttle, and returned upstairs.
But the furniture he had seen ran on castors across and across Mr. Testator's mind incessantly, when, in the chill hour of five in the morning, he got to bed. He particularly wanted a table to write at, and a table expressly made to be written at had been the piece of furniture in the foreground of the heap. When his laundress emerged from her burrow in the morning to make his kettle boil, he artfully led up to the subject of cellars and furniture; but the two ideas had evidently no connection in her mind. When she left him, and he sat at his breakfast, thinking about the furniture, he recalled the rusty state of the padlock, and inferred that the furniture must have been stored in the cellar for a long time—was perhaps forgotten—owner dead perhaps? After thinking it over a few days, in the course of which he could pump nothing out of Lyons Inn about the furniture, he became desperate, and resolved to borrow that table. He did so, that night. He had not had the table long, when he determined to borrow an easy-chair; he had not had that long, when he made up his mind to borrow a bookcase; then, a couch; then, a carpet and rug. By that time, he felt he was "in furniture stepped in so far," as that it could be no worse to borrow it all. Consequently, he borrowed it all, and locked up the cellar for good. He had always locked it, after every visit. He had carried up every separate article in the dead of night, and, at the best, had felt as wicked as a Resurrection Man. Every article was blue and furry when brought into his rooms, and he had had, in a murderous and guilty sort of way, to polish it up while London slept.
Mr. Testator lived in his furnished chambers two or three years, or more, and gradually lulled himself into the opinion that the furniture was his own. This was his convenient state of mind when, late one night, a step came up the stairs, and a hand passed over his door feeling for his knocker, and then one deep and solemn rap was rapped that might have been a spring in Mr. Testator's easy-chair to shoot him out of it; so promptly was it attended with that effect.
With a candle in his hand, Mr. Testator went to the door, and found there a very pale and very tall man; a man who stooped; a man with very high shoulders, a very narrow chest, and a very red nose; a shabby-genteel man. He was wrapped in a long threadbare black coat, fastened up the front with more pins than buttons, and under his arm he squeezed an umbrella without a handle, as if he were playing bagpipes. He said, "I beg your pardon, but can you tell me—" and stopped; his eyes resting on some object within the chambers.
"Can I tell you what?" asked Mr. Testator, noting his stoppage with quick alarm.
"I ask your pardon," said the stranger, "but—this is not the inquiry I was going to make—doI see in there, any small article of property belonging tome?"
Mr. Testator was beginning to stammer that he was not aware—when the visitor slipped past him into the chambers. There, in a goblin way which froze Mr. Testator to the marrow, he examined, first, the writing-table, and said, "Mine"; then, the easy-chair, and said, "Mine"; then, the bookcase, and said, "Mine"; then, turned up a corner of the carpet, and said "Mine!"—in a word, inspected every item of furniture from the cellar, in succession, and said, "Mine!" Towards the end of this investigation Mr. Testator perceived that he was sodden with liquor, and that the liquor was gin. He was not unsteady with gin, either in his speech or carriage; but he was stiff with gin in both particulars.
Mr. Testator was in a dreadful state, for (according to his making out of the story) the possible consequences of what he had done in recklessness and hardihood, flashed upon him in their fulness for the first time. When they had stood gazing at one another for a little while, he tremulously began:
"Sir, I am conscious that the fullest explanation, compensation, and restitution, are your due. They shall be yours. Allow me to entreat that, without temper, without even natural irritation on your part, we may have a little—'
"Drop of something to drink," interrupted the stranger. "I am agreeable."
Mr. Testator had intended to say, "a little quiet conversation," but with great relief of mind adopted the amendment. He produced a decanter of gin, and was bustling about for hot water and sugar, when he found that his visitor had already drunk half of the decanter's contents. With hot water and sugar the visitor drank the remainder before he had been an hour in the chambers by the chimes of the church of St. Mary in the Strand; and during the process he frequently whispered to himself, "Mine!"
The gin gone, and Mr. Testator wondering what was to follow it, the visitor rose and said, with increased stiffness, "At what hour of the morning, sir, will it be convenient?" Mr. Testator hazarded, "At ten?" "Sir," said the visitor, "at ten to the moment, I shall be here." He then contemplated Mr. Testator somewhat at leisure, and said, "God bless you! How is your wife?" Mr. Testator (who never had a wife) replied with much feeling, "Deeply anxious, poor soul, but otherwise well." The visitor thereupon turned and went away, and fell twice in going downstairs. From that hour he was never heard of. Whether he was a ghost, or a spectral illusion of conscience, or a drunken man, who had no business there, or the drunken rightful owner of the furniture, with a transitory gleam of memory; whether he got safe home, or had no home to get to; whether he died of liquor on the way, or lived in liquor ever afterwards; he never was heard of more.
A NEWSPAPER PARAGRAPH[Sidenote:Mark Twain]
Distressing Accident.—Last evening, about six o'clock, as Mr. William Schuyler, an old and respectable citizen of South Park, was leaving his residence to go down town, as has been his usual custom for many years, with the exception only of a short interval in the spring of 1850, during which he was confined to his bed by injuries received in attempting to stop a runaway horse by thoughtlessly placing himself directly in its wake and throwing up his hands and shouting, which if he had done so even a single moment sooner, must inevitably have frightened the animal still more instead of checking its speed, although disastrous enough to himself as it was, and rendered more melancholy and distressing by reason of the presence of his wife's mother, who was there and saw the sad occurrence, notwithstanding it is at least likely, though not necessarily so, that she should be reconnoitring in another direction when incidents occur, not being vivacious and on the look out, as a general thing, but even the reverse, as her own mother is said to have stated, who is no more, being a Christian woman and without guile, as it were, or property, in consequence of the fire of 1849, which destroyed every single thing she had in the world. But such is life. Let us all take warning by this solemn occurrence, and let us endeavour so to conduct ourselves that when we come to die we can do it. Let us place our hands upon our hearts, and say with earnestness and sincerity that, from this day forth, we will beware of the intoxicating bowl.
"FOREVER"[Sidenote:Calverley]
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.
It looks, ah me! how trite and tame!It fails to sadden or appalOr solace—it is not the sameAt all.
O thou to whom it first occurr'dTo solder the disjoin'd, and dowerThy native language with a wordOf power:
We bless thee! Whether far or nearThy dwelling, whether dark or fairThy kingly brow, is neither hereNor there.
But in men's hearts shall be thy throneWhile the great pulse of England beats,Thou coiner of a word unknownTo Keats!
And nevermore must printer doAs men did long ago; but run"For" into "ever," bidding twoBe one.
Forever! passion-fraught, it throwsO'er the dim page a gloom, a glamourIt's sweet, it's strange; and I supposeIt's grammar.
Forever! 'Tis a single word!And yet our fathers deem'd it two:Nor am I confident they err'd;Are you?
OPEN AIR[Sidenote:Thoreau]
My spirits infallibly rise in proportion to the outward dreariness. Give me the ocean, the desert or the wilderness! In the desert, pure air and solitude compensate for want of moisture and fertility. The traveller Burton says of it: "Yourmoraleimproves; you become frank and cordial, hospitable and single-minded…. In the desert, spirituous liquors excite only disgust. There is a keen enjoyment in a mere animal existence." They who have been travelling long on the steppes of Tartary say: "On re-entering cultivated lands, the agitation, perplexity, and turmoil of civilisation oppressed and suffocated us; the air seemed to fail us, and we felt every moment as if about to die of asphyxia." When I would recreate myself, I seek the darkest wood, the thickest and most interminable, and, to the citizen, most dismal swamp. I enter a swamp as a sacred place—asanctum sanctorum. There is the strength, the marrow of Nature. The wild-wood covers the virgin mould—and the same soil is good for men and for trees. A man's health requires as many acres of meadow to his prospect as his farm does loads of muck. There are the strong meats on which he feeds. A town is saved, not more by the righteous men in it than by the woods and swamps that surround it. A township where one primitive forest waves above while another primitive forest rots below—such a town is fitted to raise not only corn and potatoes, but poets and philosophers for the coming ages. In such a soil grew Homer and Confucius and the rest, and out of such a wilderness comes the Reformer eating locusts and wild honey.
"MARY POWELL"[Sidenote:Anonymous]
Journall
Forest Hill,May 1st, 1643.
Seventeenth Birthday. A gypsie Woman at the Gate would fame have tolde my Fortune; butMotherchased her away, saying she had doubtless harboured in some of the low Houses inOxford, and mighte bring us the Plague. Coulde have cried for Vexation; she had promised to tell me the Colour of my Husband's Eyes; butMothersays she believes I shall never have one, I am soe sillie.Fathergave me a gold Piece. DearMotheris chafed, methinks, touching this Debt of five hundred Pounds, whichFathersays he knows not how to pay. Indeed, he sayd, overnighte, his whole personal Estate amounts to but five hundred Pounds, his Timber and Wood to four hundred more, or thereabouts; and the Tithes and Messuages ofWhateleyare no great Matter, being mortgaged for about as much more, and he hath lent Sights of Money to them that won't pay, so 'tis hard to be thus prest. PoorFather!'twas good of him to give me this gold Piece.
May 2nd.—CousinRosemarried to MasterRoger Agnew. Present,Father, Mother,andBrotherofRose;Father, Mother, Dick, Bob, Harry, and I; SquirePaiceand his DaughterAudrey; an olde Aunt of MasterRoger's, and one of his Cousins, a stiffe-backed Man with large Eares, and such a long Nose! CousinRoselooked bewtifulle—pitie so faire a Girl should marry so olde a Man—'tis thoughte he wants not manie Years of fifty.
May 7th.—New misfortunes in the Poultrie Yarde. PoorMother'sLoyalty cannot stand the Demands for her best Chickens, Ducklings, &c, for the Use of his Majesty's Officers since the King hath beene inOxford. She accuseth myFatherof having beene wonne over by a few faire Speeches to be more of a Royalist than his natural Temper inclineth him to; which, of course, he will not admit.
May 8th.—Whole Day taken up in a Visit toRose, now a Week married, and growne quite matronlie already. We reachedSheepscoteabout an Hour before Noone. A long, broade, strait Walke of green Turf, planted with Holly-oaks, Sunflowers, &c, and some earlier flowers alreadie in Bloom, led up to the rusticall Porch of a truly farm-like House, with low gable Roofs, a long lattice Window on either Side the Doore, and three Casements above. Such, and no more, isRose'sHouse! But she is happy, for she came running forthe, soe soone as she heardeClover'sFeet, and helped me from my Saddle all smiling, tho' she had not expected to see us. We had Curds and Creams; and she wished it were the Time of Strawberries, for she sayd they had large Beds; and then myFatherand the Boys went forthe to looke for MasterAgnew. ThenRosetook me up to her Chamber, singing as she went; and the long, low Room was sweet with flowers. Sayd I, "Rose, to be Mistress of this pretty Cottage, t'were hardlie amisse to marry a man as old as MasterRoger." "Olde!" quoth she, "deareMoll, you must not deeme him olde; why, he is but forty-two; and am not I twenty-three?" She lookt soe earneste and hurte, that I coulde not but falle a laughing.
May 9th.—Mothergone toSandford. She hopes to get UncleJohnto lendFatherthis Money.Fathersays she maytry. 'Tis harde to discourage her with an ironicalle Smile, when she is doing all she can, and more than manie Women woulde, to helpFatherin his Difficultie; but suche, she sayth somewhat bitterlie, is the lot of our Sex. She badeFathermind that she had brought him three thousand Pounds, and askt what had come of them. Answered; helped to fille the Mouths of nine healthy Children, and stop the Mouth of an easie Husband; soe, with a Kiss, made it up. I have the Keys, and am left Mistress of alle, to my greate Contentment; but the Children clamour for Sweetmeats, andFathersayth, "Remember,Moll, Discretion is the better Part of Valour."
AfterMotherhad left, went into the Paddock, to feed the Colts with Bread; and while they were putting their Noses intoRobin'sPockets,Dickbrought out the two Ponies, and set me on one of them, and we had a mad Scamper through the Meadows and down the Lanes; I leading. Just at the Turne ofHolford's Close, came shorte upon a Gentleman walking under the Hedge, clad in a sober, genteel Suit, and of most beautifulle Countenance, with Hair like a Woman's, of a lovely pale brown, long and silky, falling over his Shoulders. I nearlie went over him, forClover'shard Forehead knocked against his Chest; but he stoode it like a Rock; and lookinge first at me and then atDick, he smiled and spoke to my Brother, who seemed to know him, and turned about and walked by us, sometimes strokingClover'sshaggy Mane. I felte a little ashamed; forDickhad sett me on the Poney just as I was, my Gown somewhat too shorte for riding: however, I drewe up my Feet and letClovernibble a little Grasse, and then got rounde to the neare Side, our new Companion stille between us. He offered me some wild Flowers, and askt me theire Names; and when I tolde them, he sayd I knew more than he did, though he accounted himselfe a prettie fayre Botaniste: and we went on thus, talking of the Herbs and Simples in the Hedges; and I sayd how prettie some of theire Names were, and that, methought, though Adam had named alle the Animals in Paradise, perhaps Eve had named all the Flowers. He lookt earnestlie at me, on this and muttered "Prettie." ThenDickaskt of him News fromLondon, and he spoke, methought, reservedlie; ever and anon turning his bright, thoughtfulle Eyes on me. At length, we parted at the Turn of the Lane.
I asktDickwho he was, and he told me he was one Mr.John Milton.
A SONNET[Sidenote:J.K. Stephen]
Two voices are there: one is of the deep;It learns the storm-cloud's thunderous melody,Now roars, now murmurs with the changing sea,Now bird-like pipes, now closes soft in sleep:And one is of an old half-witted sheepWhich bleats articulate monotony,And indicates that two and one are three,That grass is green, lakes damp, and mountains steep:And, Wordsworth, both are thine: at certain timesForth from the heart of thy melodious rhymes,The form and pressure of high thoughts will burst:At other times—good Lord! I'd rather beQuite unacquainted with the A.B.C.Than write such hopeless rubbish as thy worst.
EPIGRAMS[Sidenote:Matthew Prior]
To John I ow'd great obligation;But John, unhappily, thought fitTo publish it to all the nation:Sure John and I are more than quit.
Yes, every poet is a fool:By demonstration Ned can show it:Happy, could Ned's inverted ruleProve every fool to be a poet.
DR. JOHNSON AT COURT[Sidenote:Boswell]
In February, 1767, there happened one of the most remarkable incidents of Johnson's life, which gratified his monarchical enthusiasm, and which he loved to relate with all its circumstances, when requested by his friends. This was his being honoured by a private conversation with his Majesty, in the library at the Queen's House. He had frequently visited those splendid rooms, and noble collection of books, which he used to say was more numerous and curious than he supposed any person could have made in the time which the King had employed. Mr. Barnard, the librarian, took care that he should have every accommodation that could contribute to his ease and convenience, while indulging his literary taste in that place—so that he had here a very agreeable resource at leisure hours.
His Majesty having been informed of his occasional visits, was pleased to signify a desire that he should be told when Dr. Johnson came next to the library. Accordingly, the next time that Johnson did come, as soon as he was fairly engaged with a book, on which, while he sat by the fire, he seemed quite intent, Mr. Barnard stole round to the apartment where the King was, and, in obedience to his Majesty's commands, mentioned that Dr. Johnson was then in the library. His Majesty said that he was at leisure, and would go to him: upon which Mr. Barnard took one of the candles that stood on the King's table, and lighted his Majesty through a suite of rooms, till they came to a private door into the library, of which his Majesty had the key. Being entered, Mr. Barnard stepped forward hastily to Dr. Johnson, who was still in a profound study, and whispered him, "Sir, here is the King." Johnson started up, and stood still. His Majesty approached him, and at once was courteously easy.
His Majesty began by observing that he understood he came sometimes to the library: and then mentioned his having heard that the Doctor had been lately at Oxford, asked him if he was not fond of going thither. To which Johnson answered, that he was indeed fond of going to Oxford sometimes, but was likewise glad to come back again. The King then asked him what they were doing at Oxford. Johnson answered, he could not much commend their diligence, but that in some respects they were mended, for they had put their press under better regulations, and were at that time printing Polybius. He was then asked whether there were better libraries at Oxford or Cambridge. He answered, he believed the Bodleian was larger than any they had at Cambridge; at the same time adding, "I hope, whether we have more books or not than they have at Cambridge, we shall make as good use of them as they do." Being asked whether All-Souls or Christ Church library was the largest he answered, "All-Souls library is the largest we have, except the Bodleian." "Aye," said the King, "that is the public library."
His Majesty inquired if he was then writing anything. He answered he was not, for he had pretty well told the world what he knew, and must now read to acquire more knowledge. The king, as it should seem with a view to urge him to rely on his own stores as an original writer, and to continue his labours, then said, "I do not think you borrow much from anybody." Johnson said he thought he had already done his part as a writer. "I should have thought so too," said the king, "if you had not written so well." Johnson observed to me, upon this, that "no man could have paid a handsomer compliment; and it was fit for a king to pay. It was decisive." When asked by another friend, at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, whether he made any reply to this high compliment, he answered, "No, sir. When the King had said it, it was to be so. It was not for me to bandy civilities with my sovereign." Perhaps no man who had spent his whole life in courts could have shown a more nice and dignified sense of true politeness than Johnson did in this instance….
During the whole of this interview, Johnson talked to his Majesty with profound respect, but still in his firm, manly manner, with a sonorous voice, and never in that subdued tone which is commonly used at the levee and in the drawing-room. After the king withdrew, Johnson showed himself highly pleased with his Majesty's conversation and gracious behaviour. He said to Mr. Barnard, "Sir, they may talk of the king as they will; but he is the finest gentleman I have ever seen." And he afterwards observed to Mr. Langton, "Sir, his manners are those of as fine a gentleman as we may suppose Louis the Fourteenth or Charles the Second."
At Sir Joshua Reynolds's, where a circle of Johnson's friends was collected round him to hear his account of this memorable conversation, Dr. Joseph Warton, in his frank and lively manner, was very active in pressing him to mention the particulars. "Come now, sir, this is an interesting matter; do favour us with it." Johnson, with great good humour, complied.
He told them, "I found his Majesty wished I should talk, and I made it my business to talk. I find it does a man good to be talked to by his sovereign. In the first place, a man cannot be in a passion—" Here some question interrupted him, which is to be regretted, as he certainly would have pointed out and illustrated many circumstances of advantage, from being in a situation where the powers of the mind are at once excited to vigorous exertion and tempered by reverential awe.
LANDORISMS[Sidenote:Landor]
From you, Ianthe, little troubles passLike little ripples down a sunny river;Your pleasures spring like daisies in the grass,Cut down, and up again as blithe as ever.
* * * * *
Metellus is a lover: one whose ear(I have been told) is duller than his sight.The day of his departure had drawn near;And (meeting her beloved over-night)Softly and tenderly Corinna sigh'd:"Won't you be quite as happy now without me?"Metellus, in his innocence replied,"Corinna! O Corinna! can you doubt me?"
* * * * *
One leg across his wide arm-chair,Sat Singleton, and read Voltaire;And when (as well he might) he hitUpon a splendid piece of wit,He cried: "I do declare now, thisUpon the whole is not amiss."And spent a good half-hour to showBy metaphysics why 'twas so.
* * * * *
"Why do I smile?" To hear you say,"One month, and then the shortest day!"The shortest, whate'er month it be,Is the bright day you pass with me.
* * * * *
Each year bears something from us as it flies,We only blow it farther with our sighs.
WIT AND LAUGHTER[Sidenote:Hazlitt]
There is nothing more ridiculous than laughter without a cause, nor anything more troublesome than what are called laughing people. A professed laugher is as contemptible and tiresome a character as a professed wit: the one is always contriving something to laugh at, the other is always laughing at nothing. An excess of levity is as impertinent as an excess of gravity. A character of this sort is well personified by Spenser, in the "Damsel of the Idle Lake":
Who did assayTo laugh at shaking of the leavès light.
Any one must be mainly ignorant, or thoughtless, who is surprised at everything he sees; or wonderfully conceited, who expects everything to conform to his standard of propriety. Clowns and idiots laugh on all occasions; and the common failing of wishing to be thought satirical often runs through whole families in country places, to the great annoyance of their neighbours. To be struck with incongruity in whatever comes before us does not argue great comprehension or refinement of perception, but rather a looseness and flippancy of mind and temper, which prevents the individual from connecting any two ideas steadily or consistently together. It is owing to a natural crudity and precipitateness of the imagination, which assimilates nothing properly to itself. People who are always laughing, at length laugh on the wrong side of their faces; for they cannot get others to laugh with them. In like manner, an affectation of wit by degrees hardens the heart, and spoils good company and good manners. A perpetual succession of good things puts an end to common conversation. There is no answer to a jest, but another; and even where the ball can be kept up in this way without ceasing, it tires the patience of the bystanders, and runs the speakers out of breath. Wit is the salt of conversation, not the food.
LOVE IN WINTER[Sidenote:Austin Dobson]
Between the berried holly-bushThe blackbird whistled to the thrush:"Which way did bright-eyed Bella go?Look, Speckle-breast, across the snow,—Are those her dainty tracks I see,That wind beside the shrubbery?"
The throstle pecked the berries still."No need for looking, Yellowbill;Young Frank was there an hour ago,Half frozen, waiting in the snow;His callow beard was white with rime,—'Tchuck,—'tis a merry pairing-time!"
"What would you?" twittered in the wren;"These are the reckless ways of men.I watched them bill and coo as thoughThey thought the sign of spring was snow;If men but timed their loves as we,'Twould save this inconsistency."
"Nay, gossip," chirped the robin, "nay;I like their unreflective way.Besides, I heard enough to showTheir love is proof against the snow:—'Why wait,' he said, 'why wait for May,When love can warm a winter's day?'"
MENTAL PHOTOGRAPHS[Sidenote:Mark Twain]
I have received from the publishers, New York, a neatly-printed page of questions, with blanks for answers, and am requested to fill those blanks. These questions are so arranged as to ferret out the most secret points of a man's nature without his ever noticing what the idea is until it is all done, and his "character" gone for ever. A number of these sheets are bound together and called a Mental Photograph Album. Nothing could induce me to fill those blanks but the asseveration of my pastor, that it will benefit my race by enabling young people to see what I am, and giving them an opportunity to become like somebody else. This overcomes my scruples. I have but little character, but what I have I am willing to part with for the public good. I do not boast of this character, further than that I built it up by myself, at odd hours, during the last thirty years, and without other educational aid than I was able to pick up in the ordinary schools and colleges. I have filled the blanks as follows:
What is your favourite…
Colour?—Anything but dun.
Tree?—Any that bears forbidden fruit.
Hour in the Day?—The leisure hour.
Perfume?—Cent, per cent.
Style of Beauty?—The Subscriber's.
Names, Male and Female?—M'aimez(Maimie) for a female, and Tacus andMarius for males.
Painters?—Sign-painters.
Poet?—Robert Browning, when he has a lucid interval.
Poetess?—Timothy Titcomb.
Prose Author?—Noah Webster, LL.D.
Characters in Romance?—The Napoleon Family.
In History?—King Herod.
If not yourself, who would you rather be?—The Wandering Jew, with a nice annuity.
What is your idea of happiness?—Finding the buttons all on.
Your idea of Misery?—Breaking an egg in your pocket.
What is yourbête noire?—(What is my which?)
What do you most dread?—Exposure.
What do you believe to be your Distinguishing Characteristic?—Hunger.
What is the Sublimest Passion of which human nature is capable?—Loving your sweetheart's enemies.
What are the Sweetest Words in the world?—"Not Guilty."
What is your Aim in Life?—To endeavour to be absent when my time comes.
What is your Motto?—Be virtuous, and you will be eccentric.
ANGLING CHEER[Sidenote:Izaak Walton]
Let me tell you, Scholar, that Diogenes walked on a day, with his friend, to see a country fair; where he saw ribbons, and looking-glasses, and nut-crackers, and fiddles, and hobby-horses, and many other gimcracks; and, having observed them, and all the other finnimbruns that make a complete country-fair, he said to his friend, "Lord, how many things are there in this world of which Diogenes hath no need!" And truly it is so, or might be so, with very many who vex and toil themselves to get what they have no need of. Can any man charge God, that he hath not given him enough to make his life happy? No, doubtless; for nature is content with a little. And yet you shall hardly meet with a man that complains not of some want; though he, indeed, wants nothing but his will; it may be, nothing but his will of his poor neighbour, for not worshipping, or not flattering him: and thus, when we might be happy and quiet, we create trouble to ourselves. I have heard of a man that was angry with himself because he was no taller; and of a woman that broke her looking-glass because it would not show her face to be as young and handsome as her next neighbour's was. And I knew another to whom God had given health and plenty; but a wife that nature had made peevish, and her husband's riches had made purse-proud; and must, because she was rich, and for no other virtue, sit in the highest pew in the church; which being denied her, she engaged her husband into a contention for it, and at last into a lawsuit with a dogged neighbour who was as rich as he, and had a wife as peevish and purse-proud as the other: and this lawsuit begot higher oppositions, and actionable words, and more vexations and lawsuits; for you must remember that both were rich, and must therefore have their wills. Well! this wilful, purse-proud lawsuit lasted during the life of the first husband; after which his wife vext and chid, and chid and vext, till she also chid and vext herself into her grave: and so the wealth of these poor rich people was curst into a punishment, because they wanted meek and thankful hearts; for those only can make us happy. I knew a man that had health and riches; and several houses, all beautiful, and ready furnished; and would often trouble himself and family to be removing from one house to another: and being asked by a friend why he removed so often from one house to another, replied, "It was to find content in some one of them." But his friend, knowing his temper, told him, "If he would find content in any of his houses, he must leave himself behind him; for content will never dwell but in a meek and quiet soul." And this may appear, if we read and consider what our Saviour says in St. Matthew's Gospel; for He there says: "Blessed be the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed be the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed be the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." And, "Blessed be the meek, for they shall possess the earth." Not that the meek shall not also obtain mercy, and see God, and be comforted, and at last come to the kingdom of heaven: but in the meantime, he, and he only, possesses the earth, as he goes towards that kingdom of heaven, by being humble and cheerful, and content with what his good God has allotted him. He has no turbulent, repining, vexatious thoughts that he deserves better; nor is vext when he sees others possest of more honour or more riches than his wise God has allotted for his share; but he possesses what he has with a meek and contented quietness, such a quietness as makes his very dreams pleasing, both to God and himself.
APPLES[Sidenote:Byron]
When Newton saw an apple fall, he foundIn that slight startle from his contemplation—'Tissaid(for I'll not answer above groundFor any sage's creed or calculation)—A mode of proving that the earth turn'd roundIn a most natural whirl, call'd "gravitation";And this is the sole mortal who could grapple,Since Adam, with a fall, or with an apple.
A LITTLE MORAL ADVICE[Sidenote:Sydney Smith]
It is surprising to see for what foolish causes men hang themselves. The most silly repulse, the most trifling ruffle of temper, or derangement of stomach, anything seems to justify an appeal to the razor or the cord. I have a contempt for persons who destroy themselves. Live on, and look evil in the face; walk up to it, and you will find it less than you imagined, and often you will not find it at all; for it will recede as you advance. Any fool may be a suicide. When you are in a melancholy fit, first suspect the body, appeal to rhubarb and calomel, and send for the apothecary; a little bit of gristle sticking in the wrong place, an untimely consumption of custard, excessive gooseberries, often cover the mind with clouds and bring on the most distressing views of human life.
I start up at two o'clock in the morning, after my first sleep, in an agony of terror, and feel all the weight of life upon my soul. It is impossible that I can bring up such a family of children; my sons and daughters will be beggars! I shall live to see those whom I love exposed to the scorn and contumely of the world!—But stop, thou child of sorrow, and humble imitator of Job, and tell me on what you dined. Was not there soup and salmon, and then a plate of beef, and then duck, blanc-mange, cream cheese, diluted with beer, claret, champagne, hock, tea, coffee, and noyeau? And after all this you talk of themindand the evils of life! These kinds of cases do not need meditation, but magnesia. Take short views of life. What am I to do in these times with such a family of children? So I argued, and lived dejected and with little hope; but the difficulty vanished as life went on. An uncle died, and left me some money; an aunt died, and left me more; my daughter married well; I had two or three appointments, and before life was half over became a prosperous man. And so will you. Every one has uncles and aunts who are mortal; friends start up out of the earth; time brings a thousand chances in your favour; legacies fall from the clouds. Nothing so absurd as to sit down and wring your hands because all the good which may happen to you in twenty years has not taken place at this precise moment.
The greatest happiness which can happen to any one is to cultivate a love of reading. Study is often dull because it is improperly managed. I make no apology for speaking of myself, for as I write anonymously nobody knows who I am, and if I did not, very few would be the wiser—but every man speaks more firmly when he speaks from his own experience. I read four books at a time; some classical book perhaps on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. The "History of France," we will say, on the evenings of the same days. On Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, Mosheim, or Lardner, and in the evening of those days, Reynolds's Lectures or Burns's Travels. Then I have always a standing book of poetry, and a novel to read when I am in the humour to read nothing else. Then I translate some French into English one day, and re-translate it the next; so that I have seven or eight pursuits going on at the same time, and this produces the cheerfulness of diversity, and avoids that gloom which proceeds from hanging a long while over a single book. I do not recommend this as a receipt for becoming a learned man, but for becoming a cheerful one.
Nothing contributes more certainly to the animal spirits than benevolence. Servants and common people are always about you; make moderate attempts to please everybody, and the effort will insensibly lead you to a more happy state of mind. Pleasure is very reflective, and if you give it you will feel it. The pleasure you give by kindness of manner returns to you, and often with compound interest. The receipt for cheerfulness is not to have one motive only in the day for living, but a number of little motives; a man who, from the time he rises till bedtime, conducts himself like a gentleman, who throws some little condescension into his manner to superiors, and who is always contriving to soften the distance between himself and the poor and ignorant, is always improving his animal spirits, and adding to his happiness.
I recommend lights as a great improver of animal spirits. How is it possible to be happy with two mould candles ill snuffed? You may be virtuous, and wise, and good, but two candles will not do for animal spirits. Every night the room in which I sit is lighted up like a town after a great naval victory, and in this cereous galaxy, and with a blazing fire, it is scarcely possible to be low-spirited; a thousand pleasing images spring up in the mind, and I can see the little blue demons scampering off like parish boys pursued by the beadle.
MRS. PARTINGTON[Sidenote:Sydney Smith]
As for the possibility of the House of Lords preventing ere long a reform of Parliament, I hold it to be the most absurd notion that ever entered into human imagination. I do not mean to be disrespectful, but the attempt of the Lords to stop the progress of Reform reminds me very forcibly of the great storm of Sidmouth, and of the conduct of the excellent Mrs. Partington on that occasion. In the winter of 1824 there set in a great flood upon that town—the tide rose to an incredible height, the waves rushed in upon the houses, and everything was threatened with destruction. In the midst of this sublime and terrible storm, Dame Partington, who lived upon the beach, was seen at the door of her house with mop and pattens, trundling her mop, squeezing out the sea-water, and vigorously pushing away the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic was roused, Mrs. Partington's spirit was up; but I need not tell you that the contest was unequal. The Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs. Partington. She was excellent at a slop or a puddle, but she should not have meddled with a tempest. Gentlemen, be at your ease—be quiet and steady—you will beat—Mrs. Partington.
HOW MARK EDITED AN AGRICULTURAL PAPER[Sidenote:Mark Twain]
I did not take the temporary editorship of an agricultural paper without misgivings. Neither would a landsman take command of a ship without misgivings. But I was in circumstances that made the salary an object. The regular editor of the paper was going off for a holiday, and I accepted the terms he offered, and took his place.
The sensation of being at work again was luxurious, and I wrought all the week with unflagging pleasure. We went to press, and I waited a day with some solicitude to see whether my effort was going to attract any notice. As I left the office, toward sundown, a group of men and boys at the foot of the stairs dispersed with one impulse, and gave me passage-way, and I heard one or two of them say, "That's him!" I was naturally pleased by this incident. The next morning I found a similar group at the foot of the stairs, and scattering couples and individuals standing here and there in the street, and over the way, watching me with interest. The group separated and fell back as I approached, and I heard a man say, "Look at his eye!" I pretended not to observe the notice I was attracting, but secretly I was pleased with it, and was purposing to write an account of it to my aunt. I went up the short flight of stairs, and heard cheery voices and a ringing laugh as I drew near the door, which I opened, and caught a glimpse of two young rural-looking men, whose faces blanched and lengthened when they saw me, and then they both plunged through the window with a great crash. I was surprised.
In about half an hour an old gentleman, with a flowing beard and a fine but rather austere face, entered, and sat down at my invitation. He seemed to have something on his mind. He took off his hat and set it on the floor, and got out of it a red silk handkerchief and a copy of our paper.
He put the paper on his lap, and, while he polished his spectacles with his handkerchief, he said, "Are you the new editor?"
I said I was.
"Have you ever edited an agricultural paper before?"
"No," I said; "this is my first attempt."
"Very likely. Have you had any experience in agriculture practically?"
"No; I believe I have not."
"Some instinct told me so," said the old gentleman, putting on his spectacles, and looking over them at me with asperity, while he folded his paper into a convenient shape. "I wish to read you what must have made me have that instinct. It was this editorial. Listen, and see if it was you that wrote it: 'Turnips should never be pulled; it injures them. It is much better to send a boy up and let him shake the tree.' Now, what do you think of that?—for I really suppose you wrote it?"
"Think of it? Why, I think it is good. I think it is sense. I have no doubt that every year millions and millions of bushels of turnips are spoiled in this township alone by being pulled in a half-ripe condition, when, if they had sent a boy up to shake the tree—"
"Shake your grandmother! Turnips don't grow on trees!"
"Oh, they don't, don't they? Well, who said they did? The language was intended to be figurative, wholly figurative. Anybody that knows anything will know that I meant that the boy should shake the vine."
Then this old person got up and tore his paper all into small shreds, and stamped on them, and broke several things with his cane, and said I did not know as much as a cow; and then went out and banged the door after him, and, in short, acted in such a way that I fancied he was displeased about something. But, not knowing what the trouble was, I could not be any help to him.
Pretty soon after this a long, cadaverous creature, with lanky locks hanging down to his shoulders, and a week's stubble bristling from the hills and valleys of his face, darted within the door, and halted motionless with finger on lip, and head and body bent in listening attitude. No sound was heard. Still he listened. No sound. Then he turned the key in the door, and came elaborately tip-toeing toward me till he was within long reaching distance of me, when he stopped, and, after scanning my face with intense interest for a while, drew a folded copy of our paper from his bosom, and said:
"There, you wrote that. Read it to me—quick! Relieve me. I suffer."
I read as follows: and, as the sentences fell from my lips, I could see the relief come, I could see the drawn muscles relax, and the anxiety go out of the face, and rest and peace steal over the features like the merciful moonlight over a desolate landscape:
"The guano is a fine bird, but great care is necessary in rearing it. It should not be imported earlier than June or later than September. In the winter it should be kept in a warm place, where it can hatch out its young.
"It is evident that we are to have a backward season for grain. Therefore it will be well for the farmer to begin setting out his corn-stalks and planting his buckwheat cakes in July instead of August.
"Concerning the Pumpkin.—This berry is a favourite with the natives of the interior of New England, who prefer it to the gooseberry for the making of fruit-cake, and who likewise give it the preference over the raspberry for feeding cows, as being more filling and fully as satisfying. The pumpkin is the only esculent of the orange family that will thrive in the North, except the gourd and one or two varieties of the squash. But the custom of planting it in the front yard with the shrubbery is fast going out of vogue, for it is now generally conceded that the pumpkin as a shade tree is a failure.