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Title: Quips and Quiddities: A Quintessence of Quirks, Quaint, Quizzical, and Quotable

Editor: William Davenport Adams

Release date: December 27, 2012 [eBook #41713]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Chris Curnow, Eric Skeet and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net


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Transcriber's Notes:

  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

  No attempt at consistency of spelling or punctuation has been made,
    as the entire text consists of direct quotations from other sources.

  A few minor corrections have been made to the index or where the
    original source has clearly been misprinted.

       *       *       *       *       *




QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES

_Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. per volume._

THE MAYFAIR LIBRARY.


THE NEW REPUBLIC. By W. H. MALLOCK.

THE NEW PAUL AND VIRGINIA. By W. H. MALLOCK.

THE TRUE HISTORY OF JOSHUA DAVIDSON. By E.
LYNN LINTON.

OLD STORIES RE-TOLD. By WALTER THORNBURY.

PUNIANA. By the Hon. HUGH ROWLEY.

MORE PUNIANA. By the Hon. HUGH ROWLEY.

THOREAU: HIS LIFE AND AIMS. By H. A. PAGE.

BY STREAM AND SEA. By WILLIAM SENIOR.

JEUX D'ESPRIT. Collected and Edited by HENRY S. LEIGH.

GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. By BRILLAT-SAVARIN.

THE MUSES OF MAYFAIR. Edited by H. CHOLMONDELEY
PENNELL.

PUCK ON PEGASUS. By H. CHOLMONDELEY PENNELL.

ORIGINAL PLAYS by W. S. GILBERT. FIRST SERIES.
Containing--The Wicked World, Pygmalion and Galatea, Charity,
The Princess, The Palace of Truth, Trial by Jury.

ORIGINAL PLAYS by W. S. GILBERT. SECOND SERIES.
Containing--Broken Hearts, Engaged, Sweethearts, Dan'l Druce,
Gretchen, Tom Cobb, The Sorcerer, H.M.S. Pinafore,
The Pirates of Penzance.

CAROLS OF COCKAYNE. By HENRY S. LEIGH.

LITERARY FRIVOLITIES, FANCIES, FOLLIES, AND
FROLICS. By W. T. DOBSON.

PENCIL AND PALETTE. By ROBERT KEMPT.

THE BOOK OF CLERICAL ANECDOTES. By JACOB
LARWOOD.

THE SPEECHES OF CHARLES DICKENS.

THE CUPBOARD PAPERS. By FIN-BEC.

QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES. Selected by W. DAVENPORT ADAMS.

MELANCHOLY ANATOMISED: a Popular Abridgment of "Burton's Anatomy of
Melancholy."

THE AGONY COLUMN OF "THE TIMES," FROM 1800 TO 1870.
Edited by ALICE CLAY.

PASTIMES AND PLAYERS. By ROBERT MACGREGOR.

CURIOSITIES OF CRITICISM. By HENRY J. JENNINGS.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HANDWRITING. By DON FELIX
DE SALAMANCA.

LATTER-DAY LYRICS. Edited by W. DAVENPORT ADAMS.

BALZAC'S COMÉDIE HUMAINE AND ITS AUTHOR.
With Translations by H. H. WALKER.

_Other Volumes are in preparation._

CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY, W.




QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES

_A QUINTESSENCE OF QUIRKS
QUAINT, QUIZZICAL, AND
QUOTABLE_


SELECTED AND EDITED BY
W. DAVENPORT ADAMS

AUTHOR OF THE "DICTIONARY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE," ETC.

[Illustration]

"How now, how now, mad wag? what, in thy Quips and thy Quiddities?"

I _Henry IV._, i. 2

London
CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY
1881

[_All rights reserved._]




PREFACE.


This is a modest little volume. It consists but
of selections from the Editor's note-book, and its
object is but to amuse. It does not even aspire
to be read consecutively. The Compiler's hope
is only that it may be found a pleasant companion
at spare moments--that it may be considered
handy for the pocket, and be thought agreeable to
dip into.

To that end, two things have been aimed at in
selecting--brevity and variety. There is scarcely
anything in the volume that cannot be read
almost at a glance, and the matter ranges over
a wide extent of literary effort--over play and
poem, over essay and novel, over maxim and epigram,
over memoir and diary. There is pun, and
there is parody; there is satire, and there is sarcasm.
In a word, the little book may say, with
Lafontaine, "Diversité c'est ma devise." There is
diversity even in the arrangement, which consists
merely of a general alternation of the prose and
verse. For the rest, the quips and quiddities are
in intentional disorder.

Let it be added that, though there are a few
anonymous passages, most are duly attributed to
their writers, together with references to the
volumes from which they have been taken. In
this, every care has been exercised to arrive at
accuracy. The idea of completeness is, of course,
foreign to a selection of this sort, and it may be
mentioned that the Editor has been specially
anxious to avoid as much as possible the ground
covered by Mr. Leigh in his "Jeux d'Esprit," and
by Mr. Dobson in his "Literary Frivolities." His
aim, indeed, has been to take the freshest and least
hackneyed of the passages in his collection, though
he has not hesitated to include a venerable saying
when it has seemed to him as good as it is venerable.

In conclusion, the Compiler desires to express
in the most hearty manner his indebtedness to
those numerous living writers whose bright and
airy fancies form, in his opinion, one of the chief
attractions of the book. He ought, perhaps, to
apologize to those writers for presenting their
fancies in a manner so generally fragmentary and
disconnected. But that the contents of the book
should be thus disconnected and fragmentary was
part and parcel of its plan and origin, and, that
being the case, the Editor hopes to be excused.
He may state that, in those few cases where a
piece of verse is given entire, it is distinguished
by the presence of a heading. The epigrams,
maxims, and anecdotes are, of course, reproduced
as written--being, in their very nature, of the
brevity essential to a quip.

Further: on the principle that no book, however
unpretending, should be without an Index, the
Compiler has supplied one for the present volume.

W.D.A.




  "Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins?"
  "Yes, faith; and let it be an excellent good thing."

        I _Henry IV._, ii. 2.




  QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES.


  When Miss Callender, afterwards Mrs. Sheridan,
  published a novel, the hero of which commits
  forgery, that wicked wit, Sydney Smith, said he
  knew she was a Callender, but did not know till then
  that she was a Newgate Calendar.

        FANNY KEMBLE, _Record of a Girlhood_.


  An estate and beauty joined, are of an unlimited, nay, a power
  pontifical; make one not only absolute, but infallible. A fine
  woman's never in the wrong.

        _Lady Betty_, in CIBBER's _Careless Husband_.


  _THEOPHILUS._

  When I'm drinking my tea
    I think of my _The_;
  When I'm drinking my coffee
    I think of my _Offee_;
  So, whether I'm drinking my tea or my coffee,
  I'm always a-thinking of thee, my Theoffy.

        ROGERS, _apud_ MOORE.


  Bobus was very amusing. He is a great authority
  on Indian matters. We talked of the insects
  and the snakes, and he said a thing which
  reminded me of his brother Sydney: "Always, sir,
  manage to have at your table some fleshy blooming
  young writer or cadet, just come out, that the mosquitoes
  may stick to him, and leave the rest of the company
  alone."

        LORD MACAULAY, _Life_.


  Lady Greenwich, in a conversation with
  Lady Tweeddale, named the Saxons. "The
  Saxons, my dear," cried the Marchioness; "who
  were they?" "Lord, madam, did your ladyship never
  read the History of England?" "No, my dear; pray,
  who wrote it?"

        HORACE WALPOLE, _Correspondence_.


  _ON THE MARRIAGE OF A MR. LOT AND A MISS SALTER._

  Because on her way she chose to halt,
  Lot's wife, in the Scriptures, was turned into salt;
  But though in her course she ne'er did falter,
  This young Lot's wife, strange to say, was Salter.

        HICKS, _apud_ J. C. YOUNG.


  Hook was dining at Powell's one day, and the talk
  fell upon _feu_ Jack Reeve. "Yes," said Theodore,
  when they were speaking of his funeral,
  "I met him in his private box, going to the pit."

        H. F. CHORLEY, _Life and Letters_.


  _TO A BAD FIDDLER._

  Old Orpheus played so well, he moved old Nick,
  While thou mov'st nothing but thy fiddlestick!

        _A Collection of Epigrams_ (1727).


  A lady from China who was dining with the
  Archbishop [Whately] told him that English
  flowers reared in that country lose their perfume
  in two or three years. "Indeed!" was the immediate
  remark, "I had no idea that the Chinese were such
  de-scent-ers."

        E. J. WHATELY's _Life of Whately_.


  _ON THE ART UNIONS._

  That Picture-Raffles will conduce to nourish
  Design, or cause good colouring to flourish,
  Admits of logic-chopping and wise-sawing:
  But surely Lotteries encourage Drawing?

        THOMAS HOOD, _Whims and Oddities_.


  Robert Smith (brother of Sydney, and familiarly
  called "Bobus") was a lawyer and an
  ex-Advocate-General, and happened on one
  occasion to be engaged in argument with an excellent
  physician touching the merits of their respective professions.
  "You must admit," urged Dr. ----, "that
  your profession does not make angels of men." "No,"
  was the retort, "there you have the best of it; yours
  certainly gives them the first chance."

        ABRAHAM HAYWARD, _Essays_.


  In London I never know what I'd be at,
  Enraptured with this, and enchanted by that;
  I'm wild with the sweets of variety's plan,
  And Life seems a blessing too happy for man.

  But the Country, Lord help me! sets all matters right;
  So calm and composing from morning to night;
  Oh! it settles the spirits when nothing is seen
  But an ass on a common, a goose on a green.

        CHARLES MORRIS, _Lyra Urbanica_.


  Parler d'amour, c'est faire amour.

        BALZAC, _Physiologie du Mariage_.


  At the Polish ball, the Lord Mayor said to Lady
  Douglas, who squints, "Which do you prefer,
  my lady, Gog or Magog?" "Of the _three_,"
  said Lady Douglas, "I prefer your lordship!"

        B. R. HAYDON, _Diary_.


  _ON THE CAPPADOCIANS._

  A viper bit a Cappadocian's hide;
  But 'twas the viper, not the man, that died.

        ANON., _from the Greek_.


  The merits of a certain American diplomatist being
  on the _tapis_, [Washington Irving] said, in allusion
  to his pomposity, "Ah, he is a great man;
  and, in his own estimation, a very great man--a man of
  great weight. When he goes to the West, the East
  tips up."

        J. C. YOUNG, _Diary_.


  When a rapt audience has encored "Fra Poco"
  Or "Casta Diva," I have heard that then
  The Prima Donna, smiling herself out,
  Recruits her flagging powers with bottled stout.

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Verses and Translations_.


  I believe everything. It saves one such a world
  of bore from intelligent people who are anxious
  to explain things you doubt about.

        _Lucy Forrester_, in BROOKS' _Aspen Court_.


  Rank so friendly now with trade is,
  Bill discounters titled ladies
                  Stoop to raise.
  Manners used to make the man,
  It is only money can
                  Nowadays.

        J. JEMMETT BROWNE, _Songs of Many Seasons_.


  Black is a great fact. Want of fashion in the cut;
  want of richness in the material; want of _chic_
  in the wearer--all these it covers, like charity.
  There's a sentiment about it which appeals to the feelings,
  and it is becoming to the skin.

        ANNA C. STEELE.


  Are you quite sure that Pygmalion is the only
  person who ever fell in love with his own
  handiwork?

        _Guesses at Truth._


  Duty,--that's to say the complying
        With whate'er's expected here,
  On your unknown cousin's dying,
        Straight be ready with the tear;
  Upon etiquette relying,
  Unto usage nought denying,
  Lend your waist to be embraced,
        Blush not even, never fear.

        A. H. CLOUGH, _Poems_.


  What Jenner said on hearing in Elysium that
  complaints had been made of his having a statue
  in Trafalgar Square:--

  England, ingratitude still blots
  The escutcheon of the brave and free:
  I saved you many million spots,
  And now you grudge one spot to me.

        SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.


  Deh! what are we sinners doing all our lives?
  Making soup in a basket, and getting nothing
  but the scum for our stomachs.

        _Machiavelli_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Romola_.


  My idea of an agreeable person is a person who
  agrees with me.

        _Hugo Bohun_, in LORD BEACONSFIELD's _Lothair_.


  "Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail,
  "There's the porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.
  See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
  They are waiting on the shingle--will you come and join the dance?

  "You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
  When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!"
  But the snail replied, "Too far, too far!" and gave a look askance,
  Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Alice in Wonderland_.


  I could draw on wood at a very tender age.
  When a mere child I once drew a small cartload
  of turnips over a wooden bridge. The people
  of the village noticed me. I drew their attention.

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  That all-softening over-powering knell,
  The tocsin of the soul--the dinner-bell.

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


  Now Darwin proves as clear as mud,
  That, endless ages ere the Flood,
  The Coming Man's primeval form
  Was simply an Ascidian worm:
  And having then the habit got
  Of passing liquor down his throat,
  He keeps it still, and shows full well
  That Man--was--once----a leather bottèl.

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


  "The ancients," quoth Paul, "were very great
  men, Mr. MacGrawler."
  "They were so, sir," returned the critic;
  "we make it a rule in our profession to assert that fact."
  "But, sir," said Paul, "they are wrong now and then."
  "Never, Ignoramus, never."
  "They praised poverty, Mr. MacGrawler," said Paul,
  with a sigh.
  "Hem," quoth the critic, a little staggered; but presently
  recovering his characteristic acumen, he observed,
  "It is true, Paul, but that was the poverty of other
  people."

        LORD LYTTON, _Paul Clifford_.


  Yes, Fortune deserves to be chidden,
    It is a coincidence queer--
    Whenever one wants to be hidden
  Some blockhead is sure to appear!

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  One day in the country [Sheridan Knowles] said to
  Abbot, with whom he had been acting there,
  "My dear fellow, I'm off to-morrow. Can I
  take any letters for you?" "You're very kind," answered
  Abbot; "but where are you going to?" "_I haven't
  made up my mind._"

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.


  _BLUE STOCKINGS._

  The newspapers lately have taught us to know
  How some strong-minded hens are beginning to crow.
  But, dear ladies, beware: take the word of a friend,
  That when rivalry comes, all affection must end.
  With the brightest of _spoons_ would be war to the _knife_
  In political contests 'twixt husband and wife;
  And the sentence of doom might be sudden and brief
  If a feminine subaltern jilted her chief.
  We men take a pride in concealing our chains,
  And would like to be thought to monopolize brains;
  So I'll give you this maxim, my counsels to crown--
  _If the stockings are blue, keep the petticoats down._

        _Once a Week._


  Talking of Kean, I mentioned his having told
  me that he had eked out his means of living,
  before he emerged from obscurity, by teaching
  dancing, fencing, elocution, and boxing. "Elocution
  and boxing!" (repeated Bobus Smith)--"a word and a
  blow."

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  _MILITARY._

  Smart soldiers like to be well tightened in:
  Loose habits would destroy all discipline.

        H. J. BYRON, in _English Epigrams_.


  Fontaine, the architect, who built the triumphal
  arch in the Carrousel, placed upon it an empty
  car, drawn by the famous bronze Venetian
  horses. Talleyrand asked him, "_Qui avez vous l'intention
  de mettre dans le char?_" The answer was, "_L'Empereur
  Napoléon, comme de raison_." Upon which Talleyrand
  said, "_Le char l'attend_."

        GRONOW, _Recollections_.


  'Tis doubtless well to be sometimes awake--
    Awake to duty, and awake to truth,--
  But when, alas! a nice review we take
    Of our best deeds and days, we find, in sooth,
  The hours that leave the slightest cause to weep
  Are those we passed in childhood or asleep!

        JOHN GODFREY SAXE, _Poems_.


  _Sir Toby._ "Does not our life consist of the four
  elements?"
  _Sir Andrew._ "Faith, so they say; but I think
  it rather consists of eating and drinking."

        _Twelfth Night_, Act II., Scene 3.


  She thought "Wives and Daughters" "_so_ jolly;"
    "Had I read it?" She knew that I had:
  Like the rest, I should dote upon "Molly;"
    And "poor Mrs. Gaskell--how sad!"
  "Like Browning?" "But so-so." His proof lay
    Too deep for her frivolous mood,
  That preferred your mere metrical _soufflé_
    To the stronger poetical food;
  Yet at times he was good--"as a tonic:"
    Was Tennyson writing just now?
  And was this new poet Byronic,
    And clever, and naughty, or how?

        AUSTIN DOBSON, _Vignettes in Rhyme_.


  Old friends are best. King James used to call for
  his old shoes; they were easiest for his feet.

        SELDEN, _Table Talk_.


  Let a coach be called,
  And let the man who called it be the caller;
  And in his calling let him nothing call,
  But coach, coach, coach! Oh for a coach, ye gods!

        CAREY, _Chrononhotonthologos_.


  If you could make a pudding wi' thinking o' the
  batter, it 'ud be easy getting dinner.

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


  There's somewhat on my breast, father,
    There's somewhat on my breast;
  The livelong day I sigh, father,
    And at night I cannot rest.
  'Tis not the lack of gold, father,
    Nor want of worldly gear;
  My lands are broad, and fair to see,
    My friends are kind and dear.

  'Tis not that Janet's false, father,
    'Tis not that she's unkind;
  Though busy flatterers swarm around,
    I know her constant mind.
  'Tis not her coldness, father,
    That chills my labouring breast:
  It's that confounded cucumber
    I've eat and can't digest.

        R. H. BARHAM, _Ingoldsby Lyrics_.


  Insolence is a charming quality, when, like
  mercy, it is not strained.

        _Once a Week._


  Ancient Phillis has young graces,
    'Tis a strange thing, but a true one!
          Shall I tell you how?
  She, herself, makes her own faces,
    And each morning wears a new one;
          Where's the wonder now?

        _Lord Froth_, in CONGREVE's _Double Dealer_.


  Célébrité--l'avantage d'être connu de ceux que
  vous ne connaissez pas.

        CHAMFORT, _Maximes_.


  'Tis past all bearing, when a husband slights his bride,
  Who last Christmas still was blushing at her elder sister's side;
  Still on some minute allowance finding collars, boots, and gloves,
  Still to cousinly flirtations limiting her list of loves,
  Still by stern domestic edict charged on no account to read
  Any of Miss Brontë's novels, or to finish _Adam Bede_.

        _First Lady_, in TREVELYAN's _Ladies in Parliament_.


  I differ from all the ordinary biographers of
  that independent gentleman Don't Care. I
  believe Don't Care came to a good end. At any
  rate he came to some end. Whereas numbers of people
  never have beginning, or ending, of their own.

        _Ellesmere_, in HELPS's _Friends in Council_.


  _DISTICH._

  Wisely a woman prefers to a lover a man who neglects her.
  This one may love her some day; some day the lover will not.

        JOHN HAY, _Poems_.


  One morning [Jerrold and Compton] proceeded
  together to view the pictures in the Gallery of
  Illustration. On entering the ante-room, they
  found themselves opposite to a number of very long
  looking-glasses. Pausing before one of these, [Compton]
  remarked to Jerrold, "You've come here to admire
  works of art! Very well, first feast your eyes on that
  work of nature!"--pointing to his own figure reflected
  in the glass; "look at it, there's a picture for you!"
  "Yes," said Jerrold, regarding it intently, "very fine,
  very fine indeed!" Then, turning to his friend: "Wants
  hanging, though!"

        _Memoir of Henry Compton._


  Sing for the garish eye,
    When moonless brandlings cling!
  Let the froddering crooner cry,
    And the braddled sapster sing.
  For never, and never again,
    Will the tottering beechlings play,
  For bratticed wrackers are singing aloud,
    And the throngers croon in May!

        W. S. GILBERT.


  Sydney Smith said of a certain quarrelsome
  person that his very face was a breach of the
  peace.

        J. T. FIELDS, _Yesterdays with Authors_.


  Kerchief in hand I saw them stand;
    In every kerchief lurked a lunch;
  When they unfurl'd them it was grand
    To watch bronzed men and maidens crunch
  The sounding celery-stick, or ram
  The knife into the blushing ham.

  Dash'd the bold fork through pies of pork;
    O'er hard-boil'd eggs the saltspoon shook;
  Leapt from its lair the playful cork:
    Yet some there were, to whom the brook
  Seemed sweetest beverage, and for meat
  They chose the red root of the beet.

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.


  Of all virtues, magnanimity is the rarest. There
  are a hundred persons of merit for one who
  willingly acknowledges it in another.

        W. HAZLITT, _Characteristics_.


  Bisness first, pleasure artervards, as King Richard
  the Third said ven he stabbed the tother king in
  the Tower, afore he murdered the babbies.

        CHARLES DICKENS, _apud_ J. T. FIELDS.


  We are all of us liable to this error of imagining
  that we are grieved at a fault, when we are only
  grieved at having done something to lower ourselves
  in our own estimation.

        E. M. SEWELL, _Margaret Percival_.


  I trembled once beneath her spell
  Whose spelling was extremely so-so.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  It's easy finding reasons why other folks should be
  patient.

        _Bartle Massey_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam Bede_.

  _OUR TRAVELLER._

  If thou wouldst stand on Etna's burning brow,
  With smoke above, and roaring flames below;
  And gaze adown that molten gulf reveal'd
  Till thy soul shudder'd, and thy senses reel'd;--
  If thou wouldst beard Niagara in his pride,
  Or stem the billows of Propontic tide;
  Scale all alone some dizzy Alpine _haut_,
  And shriek "Excelsior!" amidst the snow;--
  Wouldst tempt all deaths, all dangers that may be,
  Perils by land, and perils on the sea,--
  This vast round world, I say, if thou wouldst view it,
  Then why the dickens don't you go and do it?

        H. CHOLMONDELEY PENNELL, _Puck on Pegasus_.


  I am saddest when I sing; so are those who hear
  me. They are sadder even than I am.

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  An ape with a pliable thumb and big brain,
  When the gift of the gab he had managed to gain,
  As a lord of creation established his reign,
                          Which nobody can deny.

  But I'm sadly afraid, if we do not take care,
  A relapse to low life may our prospects impair,
  So of beastly propensities let us beware,
                          Which nobody can deny.

  Their lofty position our children may lose,
  And, reduced to all-fours, must then narrow their views,
  Which would shortly unfit them for wearing our shoes,
                          Which nobody can deny.

  Their vertebræ next might be taken away,
  When they'd sink to an oyster, or insect, some day,
  Or the pitiful part of a polypus play,
                          Which nobody can deny.

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


  It's dreadful to think on, people playing with their
  own insides in that way! And it's flying i' the
  face o' Providence; for what are the doctors for,
  if we aren't to call 'em in?

         _Mrs. Pullet_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Mill on the Floss_.


  Brief, in two rules he summed the ends of man--
  Keep all you have, and try for all you can!

        LORD LYTTON, _King Arthur_.


  _LOVE SONG._

  What mistress half so dear as mine,
    Half so well dressed, so pungent, fragrant,
  Who can such attributes combine,
    To charm the constant, fix the vagrant?
  Who can display such varied arts,
    To suit the taste of saint and sinner,
  Who go so near to touch their hearts,
    As thou, my darling dainty dinner?

  Still my breast holds a rival queen,
    A bright-eyed nymph of sloping shoulders,
  Whose ruddy cheeks and graceful mien
    Entrance the sense of all beholders.
  Oh! when thy lips to mine are pressed,
    What transports titillate my throttle!
  My love can find new life and zest,
    In thee, and thee alone, my bottle!

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


  Fashion with us is like the man in one of Le
  Sage's novels, who was constantly changing his
  servants, and yet had but one suit of livery,
  which every newcomer, whether he was tall or short, fat
  or thin, was obliged to wear.

  _Wormwood_, in LORD LYTTON's _Pelham_.


  Unmarketable maidens of the mart,
  Who, plumpness gone, fine delicacy feint,
  And hide your sins in piety and paint.

        ALFRED AUSTIN, _The Season_.


  Seeing O. Smith, the popular melodramatic actor,
  on the opposite side of the Strand, Knowles
  rushed across the road, seized him by the hand,
  and inquired eagerly after his health. Smith, who only
  knew him by sight, said, "I think, Mr. Knowles, you
  are mistaken; I am O. Smith." "My dear fellow," cried
  Knowles, "I beg you ten thousand pardons: I took
  you for your _namesake_, T. P. Cooke!"

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.


  _A PRACTICAL ANSWER._

  _Says Hyam to Moses,
  "Let's cut off our noses,"
  Says Moses to Hyam,
  "Ma tear, who would buy 'em?"_

        SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.


  Turnips should never be pulled: it injures them.
  It is much better to send a boy up and let him
  shake the tree.

        MARK TWAIN, _Choice Works_.


  He lived in a cave by the seas,
    He lived upon oysters and foes,
  But his list of forbidden degrees
    An extensive morality shows;
  Geological evidence goes
    To prove he had never a pan,
  But he shaved with a shell when he chose,--
    'Twas the manner of Primitive Man.

  He worshipped the rain and the breeze,
    He worshipped the river that flows,
  And the dawn, and the moon, and the trees,
    And bogies, and serpents, and crows;
  He buried his dead with their toes
    Tucked-up, an original plan,
  Till their knees came right under their nose,--
    'Twas the manner of Primitive Man.

        ANDREW LANG, _Ballades in Blue China_.


  On ne loue d'ordinaire que pour être loué.

        LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions_.


  Would you adopt a strong logical attitude,
    Bear this in mind, and, whatever you do,
  Always allow your opponent full latitude,
    Whether or not his assumption be true.
  Then, when he manifests feelings of gratitude
    Merely because you've not shut him up flat,
  Turn his pet paradox into a platitude
    With the remark, "Oh, of _course_, we know that!"

        GODFREY TURNER.


  The gentle reader, who may wax unkind,
  And, caring little for the author's ease,
  Insist on knowing what he means--a hard
  And hapless situation for a bard.

        LORD BYRON, _Beppo_.


  My dear, when you have a clergyman in your
  family you must accommodate your tastes: I
  did that very early. When I married Humphrey,
  I made up my mind to like sermons, and I set out by
  liking the end very much. That soon spread to the
  middle and the beginning, because I couldn't have the
  end without them.

        _Mrs. Cadwallader_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Middlemarch_.


  Great theologians, talk not of Trinity:
    Heretics, plague us no more with your fibs;
  One question only, Which is the Divinity,--
                          Willcox or Gibbs?

        MORTIMER COLLINS, _The British Birds_.


  "Is that the contents you are looking at?" inquired
  an anxious author, who saw Rogers's eye
  fixed on a table or list at the commencement
  of a presentation copy of a new work. "No," said
  Rogers, pointing to the list of subscribers, "the _dis_-contents."

        A. HAYWARD, _Essays_.


  The river's like glass--
  As slowly I pass,
  This sweet little lass
                Raises two
  Forget-me-not eyes
  In laughing surprise--
                From canoe.
  And as I float by,
  Said I, "Miss, O why?
  O why may not I
                Drift with you?"
  Said she, with a start,
  "I've no room in my heart--
                Or canoe!"

        J. ASHBY STERRY, _Boudoir Ballads_.


  Kenny one day mentioned Charles Lamb's being
  once bored by a lady praising to him "such a
  charming man!" etc., etc.; ending with, "I know
  him, bless him!" On which Lamb said, "Well, I don't,
  but d---- him at a hazard."

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
    They pursued it with forks and hope;
  They threatened its life with a railway share;
    They charmed it with smiles and soap.

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Hunting of the Snark_.


  I remember being present at a dinner in
  London, when a very severe and saturnine
  Scotch Presbyterian was abusing Sunday newspapers,
  and concluded a violent tirade by saying, "I
  am determined to set my face against them." "So am I,"
  said Theodore Hook, "every Sunday morning."

        GRONOW, _Recollections_.


  _ON A RADICAL REFORMER._

  Tomkins will clear the land, they say,
    From every foul abuse;
  So chimneys in the olden time
    Were cleansèd by a goose.

        JAMES HANNAY, _Sketches and Characters_.


  I was mentioning that some one had said of
  Sharpe's very dark complexion that he looked
  as if the dye of his old trade (hat making) had
  got engrained into his face. "Yes," said Luttrell, "darkness
  that may be _felt_!"

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  It seems that poor Bruin has never had peace
  'Twixt bald men in Bethel, and wise men in grease.


        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  The term _sound divine_ being used, I said, "I do
  not know what is a sound divine," quoting Pope--
  "'Dulness is sacred in a sound divine.'"
  "But I do," said Donaldson. "It is a divine who is
  _vox et præterea nihil_."

        CRABB ROBINSON, _Diary_.


  Plain food is quite enough for me;
    Three courses are as good as ten;
  If Nature can subsist on three,
    Thank heaven for three--Amen!
  I always thought cold victual nice--
  My _choice_ should be vanilla-ice.

  I care not much for gold or land;
    Give me a mortgage here or there;
  Some good bank-stock, some note of hand,
            Or trifling railroad share:--
  I only ask that fortune send
  A _little_ more than I shall spend.

        OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.


  Some one saying to Sir F. Gould, "I am told you
  eat three eggs _every day at breakfast_,"--"No,"
  answered Gould, "on the contrary." Some of
  those present asked, "What was the contrary of eating
  three eggs?" "Laying three eggs, I suppose," said
  Luttrell.

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  Blossom of hawthorn whitens in May:
  Never an end to true love's sway!
  Blossom of hawthorn fades in June:
  I shall be tired of my true love soon!
  Blossom of hawthorn's gone in July:
  Darling, I must be off,--good-bye!

        ANON.


  The late Mr. Nightingale was telling Horace Smith
  of his having given a late royal duke an account
  of an accident he had met with when he had been
  run away with, and of the duke's exclaiming aloud to himself,
  when he heard he had jumped out of the carriage,
  "Fool! fool!" "Now," said the narrator to his auditor,
  "it's all very well for him to call me a fool, but I can't
  conceive why he should. Can you?" "No," replied
  the wag, as if reflecting, "because he could not suppose
  you ignorant of the fact."

        J. C. YOUNG, _Diary_.


  Such are the sylvan scenes that thrill
    This heart! The lawns, the happy shade
  Where matrons, whom the sunbeams grill,
    Stir with slow spoon their lemonade;
  And maidens flirt (no extra charge)
  In comfort at the fountain's marge!

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.


  The crow!--the crow!--the great black crow!
  He loves the fat meadow--his taste is low;
  He loves the fat worms, and he dines in a row
  With fifty fine cousins all black as a sloe.
      Sloe--sloe! you great black crow!
  But it is jolly to fare like a great black crow!

        P. J. BAILEY, _Festus_.


  If a man's got a bit of property, a stake in the
  country, he'll want to keep things square.
  Where Jack isn't safe, Tom's in danger.

        _Mr. Wace_, in GEORGE ELIOT'S _Felix Holt_.


  Turn not from poor pussy in disdain,
    Whose pride of ancestry may equal thine;
  For is she not a blood descendant of
          The ancient Catty line?

        R. H. NEWELL, _Orpheus C. Kerr Papers_.


  I heard the other day of Jekyll making the
  following pun. He said, "Erskine used to
  hesitate very much, and could not speak very
  well after dinner. I dined with him once at the Fishmongers'
  Company. He made such a sad work of
  speechifying that I asked him whether it was in honour
  of the Company that he _floundered_ so?"

        CRABB ROBINSON, _Diary_.


  Who knows if what Adam might speak
    Was mono- or poly-syllabic;
  Was Gothic, or Gaelic, or Greek,
    Tartàric, Chinese, or Aràbic?
  It may have been Sanskrit or Zend--
    It must have been something or other;
  But thus far I'll stoutly contend,--
    It wasn't the tongue of his mother.

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


  Men's natures are neither black nor white, but
  _brown_.

        CHARLES BUXTON, _Notes of Thought_.


  Oh, Love's but a dance,
    Where Time plays the fiddle!
  See the couples advance,--
  Oh, Love's but a dance!
  A whisper, a glance,--
    "Shall we twirl down the middle?"
  Oh, Love's but a dance,
    Where Time plays the fiddle!

        AUSTIN DOBSON, _Proverbs in Porcelain_.


  I met a man in Oregon who hadn't any teeth--not
  a tooth in his head--yet that man could play on
  the bass drum better than any man I ever met.

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  The Duke of Rutland, at one of his levées,
  being at a loss for something to say to every
  person he was bound in etiquette to notice,
  remarked to Sir John Hamilton that there was a prospect
  of an excellent crop. "The timely rain," observed
  the duke, "will bring everything above ground." "God
  forbid, your excellency!" exclaimed the courtier. His
  excellency stared, whilst Sir John continued, sighing
  heavily as he spoke, "Yes, God forbid! for I have
  _three wives_ under it!"

        SIR JONAH BARRINGTON, _Memoirs_.


  "You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
        For anything tougher than suet;
  Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak,--
        Pray, how did you manage to do it?"

  "In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
        And argued each case with my wife;
  And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw
        Has lasted the rest of my life."

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Alice in Wonderland_.


  Le monde récompense plus souvent les apparances
  du mérite que le mérite même.

        LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions_.


  Curran told an anecdote of an Irish parliament
  man, who was boasting in the House of Commons
  of his attachment to trial by jury. "Mr.
  Speaker, by the trial by jury I have lived, and by the
  blessing of God, with the trial by jury I will die!"
  Curran sat near him, and whispered audibly, "What,
  Jack! do you mean to be hanged?"

        CRABB ROBINSON, _Diary_.


  They roused him with muffins--they roused him with ice--
    They roused him with mustard and cress--
  They roused him with jam and judicious advice--
    They set him conundrums to guess.

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Hunting of the Snark_.


  My old friend Maltby, the brother of the bishop, was
  a very absent man. One day at Paris, in the
  Louvre, we were looking at the pictures, when a
  lady entered who spoke to me, and kept me some minutes
  in conversation. On rejoining Maltby, I said, "That
  was Mrs. ----. We have not met so long, she had
  almost forgotten me, and asked me if my name was
  Rogers." Maltby, still looking at the pictures, "And
  was it?"

        ROGERS, _apud_ J. R. PLANCHÉ.


  No one likes to be disturbed at meals
  Or love.

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


  What is man's end? To know and to be free.
  Think you to compass it by tracts and tea?

        ALFRED AUSTIN, _The Season_.


  To preach long, loud, and damnation, is the way to
  be cried up. We love a man that damns us, and
  we run after him again to save us.

        SELDEN, _Table Talk_.


  It's such a very serious thing
  To be a funny man!

        JOHN GODFREY SAXE, _Poems_.


  A bore cannot be a good man: for the better he
  is, the greater bore he will be, and the more
  hateful he will make goodness.

        LADY ASHBURTON, _apud_ LORD HOUGHTON.


  Parson Wilbur sez he never heerd in his life
    Thet th' Apostles rigged out in their swaller-tail coats,
  An' marched round in front of a drum and a fife,
    To get some on 'em office, an' some on 'em votes;
                      But John P.
                      Robinson he
    Sez they didn't know everythin' down in Judee.

        J. R. LOWELL, _Biglow Papers_.


  I could resign that eye of blue,
    Howe'er its splendour used to thrill me;
  And e'en that cheek of roseate hue--
    To lose it, Chloe, would not kill me.

  That sunny neck I ne'er should miss,
    However much I raved about it;
  And sweetly as that lip can kiss,
    I think I could exist without it.

  In short, so well I've learned to fast,
    That, sooth, my love, I know not whether
  I might not bring myself at last
    To do without you altogether.

        THOMAS MOORE.


  L'art de plaire est l'art de tromper.

        VAUVENARGUES, _Réflexions_.


  We don't marry beggars, said she: why, no:
    It seems that to make 'em is what you do;
  And as I can cook, and scour, and sew,
    I needn't pay half my victuals for you.
  A man for himself should be able to scratch,
    But tickling's a luxury:--love, indeed!
  Love burns as long as a lucifer-match,
    Wedlock's the candle! Now that's my creed.

        GEORGE MEREDITH, _Modern Love_.


  And while my schoolmates studied less,
  I resolutely studied _Moore_.

        _Songs of Singularity._


  "One of my aides-de-camp," said Lord Wellesley
  to Plunket on one occasion, "has written a
  personal narrative of his travels,--pray, Chief
  Justice, what is your definition of 'personal'?" "My
  lord," replied Plunket, "we lawyers always consider
  _personal_ as opposed to _real_."

        LORD ALBEMARLE, _Fifty Years of my Life_.


  I make the butter fly, all in an hour:
    I put aside the preserves and cold meats,
  Telling my master his cream has turned sour,
    Hiding his pickles, purloining his sweets.
  I never languish for husband or dower,
    I never sigh to see gyps at my feet:
  I make the butter fly, all in an hour,
    Taking it home for my Saturday treat.

        _Lydia_, in G. O. TREVELYAN's _Horace at Athens_.


  English is an expressive language, but not
  difficult to master. Its range is limited. It
  consists, so far as I can observe, of four words:
  "nice," "jolly," "charming," and "bore;" and some
  grammarians add "fond."

        _Pinto_, in LORD BEACONSFIELD's _Lothair_.


  When Sir George Rose was appointed one of the
  four judges of the now extinct Court of Review,
  he came to Lincoln's Inn with his colleagues to
  be sworn in. Some friend congratulating him on his
  access of dignity, he observed, "Yes! here we are, you
  see--_four by honours_!"

        _Macmillan's Magazine._


  Ah! who has seen the mailèd lobster rise,
  Clap her broad wings, and, soaring, claim the skies?
  When did the owl, descending from her bower,
  Crop, 'midst the fleecy flocks, the tender flower;
  Or the young heifer plunge, with pliant limb,
  In the salt wave, and fish-like strive to swim?
  The same with plants--potatoes 'tatoes breed,
  The costly cabbage springs from cabbage-seed;
  Lettuce to lettuce, leeks to leeks, succeed;
  Nor e'er did cooling cucumbers presume
  To flower like myrtle, or like violets bloom.

        _The Anti-Jacobin._


  Une femme d'esprit m'a dit un jour un mot qui
  pourrait bien être le secret de son sexe; c'est
  que toute femme, en prenant un amant, tient
  plus de compte de la manière dont les autres femmes
  voient cet homme que de la manière dont elle le voit
  elle-même.

        CHAMFORT, _Maximes_.


  Here, waiter, I'll dine in this box;
    I've looked at your long bill of fare:
  A Pythagorean it shocks
    To view all the rarities there.

  I'm not o'erburdened with cash,
    Roast beef is the dinner for me;
  Then why should I eat _calipash_,
    Or why should I eat _calipee_?

  Your trifle's no trifle, I ween,
    To customers prudent as I am;
  Your peas in December are green,
    But I'm not so green as to buy 'em.

  With ven'son I seldom am fed--
    Go, bring me a sirloin, you ninny;
  Who dines at a guinea a head
    Will ne'er by his head get a guinea.

        JAMES SMITH, _Horace in London_.


  One of Lord Dudley's eccentric habits was that of
  speaking to himself or thinking aloud. Soon
  after he succeeded to the title of Dudley and
  Ward, a lady asked Lord Castlereagh how he accounted
  for the custom. "It is only Dudley speaking to Ward,"
  was the ready answer to her inquiry.

        SINCLAIR, _Old Times and Distant Places_.


  Le secret d'ennuyer est celui de tout dire.

        VOLTAIRE, _Discours_, vi.


  I never heard Rogers volunteer an opinion upon
  Campbell, except after his death, when he had
  been to see the poet's statue. "It is the first
  time," said he, "that I have seen him stand straight for
  many years."

        BRYAN WALLER PROCTER.


  "Vexation of spirit"--that is the part that
  belongs to us; we leave the "vanity" to the
  women.

        _Vanecourt_, in L. OLIPHANT's _Piccadilly_.


  I watched her as she stoop'd to pluck
    A wild flower in her hair to twine;
  And wish'd that it had been my luck
              To call her mine.

  Anon I heard her rate, with mad
    Mad words, her babe within its cot;
  And felt particularly glad
              That it had not.

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.


  Practice does not always make perfect. Curran,
  when told by his physician that he seemed
  to cough with more difficulty, replied, "That
  is odd enough, for I have been practising all night."

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


  We talk little if we do not talk about ourselves.

        W. HAZLITT, _Characteristics_.


  And how was the Devil drest?
  O, he was in his Sunday's best;
  His jacket was red and his breeches were blue,
  And there was a hole where the tail came through.

        _The Devil's Walk._


  A closed glass bookcase provoked from Dr. Drake
  the remark that he never could stand "Locke
  on the Human Understanding."

        LORD TEIGNMOUTH, _Reminiscences_.


  There was a time, ere Trollope learned to spell,
  When S. G. O. wrote seldom or wrote well;
  When Swinburne only lusted after tarts,
  When Beales was yet a Bachelor of Arts;
  Ere Broad Church rose to make logicians stare,
  That medley of St. Paul and St. Voltaire.

        RICHARD CRAWLEY, _Horse and Foot_.


  [Redmond Barry] said once to Corry, who
  was praising Crompton's performance of some
  particular character a night or two before,
  "Yes, he played the part pretty well; he hadn't time to
  study it!"

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  If a daughter you have, she's the plague of your life,
  No peace shall you know, though you've buried your wife!
  At twenty she mocks at the duty you've taught her--
  O, what a plague is an obstinate daughter!
        Sighing and whining,
        Dying and pining,
  O, what a plague is an obstinate daughter!

  When scarce in their teens, they have wit to perplex us,
  With letters and lovers for ever they vex us;
  While each still rejects the fair suitor you've brought her;
  O, what a plague is an obstinate daughter!
        Wrangling and jangling,
        Flouting and pouting,
  O, what a plague is an obstinate daughter!

        R. B. SHERIDAN, _The Duenna_.


  _Kitty_: What is your ladyship so fond of?
  _Lady Bab's Servant_: Shickspur. Did you
  never read Shickspur?
  _Kitty_: Shickspur! Shickspur! Who wrote it? No,
  I never read Shickspur.

        _High Life Below Stairs_, Act II. Scene 1.


  Nul n'est content de sa fortune
  Ni mécontent de son esprit.

        MADAME DESHOULIÈRES, _Réflexions_.


  In courtship suppose you can't sing
    Your Cara, your Liebe, your Zoë,
  A kiss and a sight of the ring
    Will more quickly prevail with your Chloe.

  Or if you in twenty strange tongues
    Could call for a beef-steak and bottle,
  A purse with less learning and lungs
    Would bring them much nearer your throttle.

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


  The father of C----, a distinguished artist, was
  complimented by a friend on the talents and
  reputation of his son, and on the comfort he
  must be to his father. "Yes," was the reply, "he is a
  very good son--a very good son, if he did not swear at
  his mother so."

        W. H. HARRISON, _University Magazine_.


  The old, old tale! ay, there's the smart;
  Her heart, or what she call'd her heart,
        Was hard as granite:
  Who breaks a heart, and then omits
  To gather up the broken bits
        Is heartless, Janet.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  The French don't know what they want, and will
  never be satisfied till they get it.

        WILLIAM HARNESS, _Life_.


  She played the accordion divinely--accordionly I
  praised her.

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  Should yours (kind heaven, avert the omen!)
  Like the cravats of vulgar, low men,
  Asunder start--and, yawning wide,
  Disclose a chasm on either side;
  Or should it stubbornly persist
  To take some awkward tasteless twist,
  Some crease, indelible, and look
  Just like a dunce's dog-eared book,
  How would you parry the disgrace?
  In what assembly show your face?
  How brook your rival's scornful glance,
  Or partners' titter in the dance?
  How in the morning dare to meet
  The quizzers of the park and street?
  Your occupation's gone; in vain
  Hope to dine out, or flirt again.
  The ladies from their lists would put you,
  And even _I_, my friend, must cut you!

        H. LUTTRELL, _Letters to Julia_.


  A man can never manage a woman. Till a woman
  marries, a prudent man leaves her to women;
  when she does marry, she manages her husband,
  and there's an end of it.

        _Kenelm Chillingly_, in LORD LYTTON's novel.


  _HOMAGE TO THE SCOTCH RIFLES, BY A SPITEFUL
  COMPETITOR._

  It seems that the Scots
      Turn out much better shots
  At long distance, than most of the Englishmen are:
      But this we all knew
      That a Scotchman could do--
  Make a small piece of metal go awfully far.

        SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.


  Some one peevishly complaining, "You take the
  words out of my mouth," Donaldson replied,
  "You are very hard to please; would you have
  liked it better if I had made you swallow them?"

        CRABB ROBINSON, _Diary_.


  I am lying, we'll say, in the nook I love,
    Screened from the sunlight's scorching glow,
  Watching the big clouds up above,
    And blowing a lazy cloud below;

  Blowing a cloud from my meerschaum black,
    And thinking or not as I feel inclined,
  With a light alpaca coat on my back,
    And nothing particular on my mind.

        _Once a Week._


  There was a Presbyterian minister who married a
  couple of his rustic parishioners, and had felt
  exceedingly disconcerted, on his asking the
  bridegroom if he were willing to take the woman for his
  wedded wife, by his scratching his head and saying,
  "Ay, I'm wullin'; but I'd rather hae her sister."

        J. C. YOUNG, _Diary_.


  The prospect's always fine in the Prospectus!

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Songs and Poems_.


  Animals are such agreeable friends--they ask no
  questions, they pass no criticisms.

        GEORGE ELIOT, _Mr. Gilfil's Love Story_.


  There is a _tact_,
  Which keeps, when pushed by questions rather rough,
    A lady always distant from the fact:
  The charming creatures lie with such a grace,
  There's nothing so becoming to the face.

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


  Walked Corry over to Bowood. In looking at
  the cascade, he mentioned what Plunket said,
  when some one, praising his waterfall, exclaimed,
  "Why, it's quite a cataract." "Oh, that's all
  my eye," said Plunket.

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  These panting damsels, dancing for their lives,
  Are only maidens waltzing into wives.


        ALFRED AUSTIN, _The Season_.


  Another friend assured me it was policy to
  "feed a cold and starve a fever." I had both.
  So I thought it best to feed myself up for the
  cold, and then keep dark and let the fever starve awhile.
  In a case of this kind, I seldom do things by halves.
  I ate pretty heartily. I conferred my custom upon a
  stranger who had just opened his restaurant that morning.
  He waited near me in respectful silence, until I had
  finished feeding my cold, when he inquired if the people
  about Virginia were much afflicted with colds? I told
  him I thought they were. He then went out and took in
  his sign.

        MARK TWAIN, _Choice Works_.


  A fine lady is like a cat; when young, the most
  gamesome and lively of all creatures--when old,
  the most melancholy.

        ALEXANDER POPE, in LOCKER's _Patchwork_.


  'Tis the voice of the lobster; I heard him declare
  "You have baked me quite brown, I must sugar my hair."
  As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose
  Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Alice in Wonderland_.


  Poor relations are undeniably irritating--their
  existence is so entirely uncalled for on our part,
  and they are almost always very faulty people.

        GEORGE ELIOT, _Mill on the Floss_.


  There was an APE in the days that were earlier;
  Centuries passed, and his hair became curlier:
  Centuries more gave a thumb to his wrist--
    Then he was MAN, and a Positivist.


  MORTIMER COLLINS, _The British Birds_.


  It was observed he never gave an opinion on any
  subject, and never told an anecdote. Indeed,
  he would sometimes remark, when a man fell
  into his anecdotage it was a sign for him to retire from
  the world.

        LORD BEACONSFIELD, _Lothair_.


  You cannot eat breakfast all day,
    Nor is it the act of a sinner,
  When breakfast is taken away,
    To turn your attention to dinner;
  And it's not in the range of belief,
    That you could hold him as a glutton,
  Who, when he is tired of beef,
    Determines to tackle the mutton.

        _Defendant_, in W. S. GILBERT's _Trial by Jury_.


  Had the Romans public dinners? Answer me
  that. Imagine a Roman--whose theory at least
  of a dinner was that it was a thing for enjoyment,
  whereas we often look on it as a continuation of the
  business of the day,--I say, imagine a Roman girding
  himself up, literally girding himself up, to make an after
  dinner speech.

        _Ellesmere_, in HELPS's _Friends in Council_.


  Folks will teach you when at school--
      "Never tell a lie!"
  Nonsense: if you're not a fool
  You may always break the rule,
      But you must be sly;
  For they'll whip you, past a doubt,
  If they ever find you out.

  Folks say, "Children should not let
      Angry passions rise."
  Humbug! When you're in a pet
  Why on earth should you regret
      Blacking some one's eyes?
  Children's eyes are made, in fact,
  Just on purpose to be black'd.

        H. S. LEIGH, _Carols of Cockayne_.


  It is not now "We have seen his star in the East,"
  but "We have seen the star on his breast, and
  are come to worship him."

        SHENSTONE, _Essays_.


  _A FAITHFUL PAGE._

  Nearly one hundred years ago, my grandfather,
  Captain William Locker, was at dinner, and a
  servant-boy, lately engaged, was handing him a
  tray of liqueurs, in different-sized glasses. Being in the
  middle of an anecdote to his neighbour, he mechanically
  held out his hand towards the tray, but, as people often
  do when they are thinking of something else, he did not
  take a glass. The boy thought he was hesitating which
  liqueur he would have, and, like a good fellow, wishing
  to help his master, he pointed to one particular glass,
  and whispered, "That's the biggest, sir."

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _Patchwork_.


  All men are equal, the Frenchman says;
        Most men will gladly receive
  What a fervid fool, with a flattering phrase,
        Tricks out for fools to believe;
  But these men have less brains than a wren!
        When a larch is a lily,
        And Bessy like Billy
        A beard shall achieve,
        Then I will believe
  That equality reigns among men!

        J. S. BLACKIE, _Musa Burschicosa_.


  I'm not one o' those who can see the cat i' the
  dairy, an' wonder what she's come after.

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


  I called him Selim, to express
  The marked s(e)limness of his form.

        _Songs of Singularity._


  "Yes," he exclaimed, "as the sublime Tyndall tells
  us, let us struggle to attain to a deeper knowledge
  of matter, and a more faithful conformity
  to its laws!"

  The professor would have proceeded, but the weather
  had been rapidly growing rough, and he here became
  violently sea-sick.

  "Let us," he exclaimed hurriedly, "conform to the
  laws of matter and go below."

        W. H. MALLOCK, _The New Paul and Virginia_.


  What can Tommy Onslow do?
  He can drive a curricle and two.
  Can Tommy Onslow do no more?
  Yes, he can drive a phaeton and four.

        ANON., in GRONOW's _Recollections_.


  Hicks and Thackeray, walking together, stopped
  opposite a doorway, over which was inscribed in
  gold letters these words: "Mutual Loan Office."
  They both seemed equally puzzled. "What on earth can
  that mean?" asked Hicks. "I don't know," answered
  Thackeray, "unless it means, that two men, who have
  nothing, agree to lend it to one another."

        J. C. YOUNG, _Diary_.


  A clod--a piece of orange-peel--
    An end of a cigar,--
  Once trod on by a princely heel,
    How beautiful they are!

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.


  In the onion is the hope of universal brotherhood.
  Look at Italy. In the churches all are alike;
  there is one faith, one smell.

        C. D. WARNER, _My Summer in a Garden_.


  He was "free to confess" (whence comes this phrase?
  Is't English? No--'tis only parliamentary).

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


  "Ah!" says my languid Oxford gentleman, "nothing
  new, and nothing true, and no matter."

        R. W. EMERSON.


  He dropt a tear on Susan's bier,
    He seem'd a most despairing swain;
  Yet bluer sky brought newer tie,
    And would he wish her back again?
  The moments fly, and when we die
    Will Philly Thistletop complain?
  She'll cry and sigh, and--dry her eye,
    And let herself be woo'd again.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  One 'ud think, an hear some folks talk, as the
  men war 'cute enough to count the corns in a
  bag o' wheat wi' only smelling at it. They can
  see through a barn door, they can. Perhaps that's the
  reason they see so little o' this side on't.

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


  Thy flattering picture, Phryne, 's like to thee
  Only in this--that you both painted be.

        JOHN DONNE.


  Without black velvet breeches, what is man?

        JOHN BRAMSTON, _Man of Taste_.


  _A KISS._

  Rose kissed me to-day,--
    Will she kiss me to-morrow?
  Let it be as it may,
  Rose kissed me to-day.
  But the pleasure gives way
    To a savour of sorrow;--
  Rose kissed me to-day,--
    _Will_ she kiss me to-morrow?

        AUSTIN DOBSON, _Proverbs in Porcelain_.


  Humility is a virtue all preach, none practise,
  and yet everybody is content to hear.

        SELDEN, _Table Talk_.


  Some say that the primitive tongue
    Expressed but the simplest affections;
  And swear that the words said or sung
    Were nothing but mere interjections.
  _Oh! Oh!_ was the signal of pain;
    _Ha! Ha!_ was the symptom of laughter;
  _Pooh! Pooh!_ was the sign of disdain,
    And _Hillo!_ came following after.

  Some, taking a different view,
    Maintain the old language was fitted
  To mark out the objects we knew,
    By mimicking sounds they emitted.
  _Bow, wow_, was the name of a dog,
    _Quack, quack_, was the word for a duckling,
  _Hunc, hunc_, would designate a hog,
    And _wee, wee_, a pig and a suckling.

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


  _A PRACTICAL MAN._--One whose judgment is
  not distracted by the power of seeing far before
  him.

        ANNE EVANS, _Poems and Music_.


  For conversation well endued,
  She thinks it witty to be rude,
  And, placing raillery in railing,
  Proclaims aloud your greatest failing.

        SWIFT, _A Woman's Mind_.


  I have always been more or less mixed up with
  Art. I have an uncle who takes photographs--and
  I have a servant who takes anything he can
  get his hands on.

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  If a man who turnips cries
  Cry not when his father dies,
  'Tis a proof that he would rather
  Have a turnip than a father.

        DR. JOHNSON.


  The greatest happiness of the greatest number is
  best secured by a prudent consideration for
  Number One.

        _Kenelm Chillingly_, in LORD LYTTON's novel.


  "You are old, Father William," the young man said,
    "And your hair has become very white;
  And yet you incessantly stand on your head--
    Do you think, at your age, it is right?"

  "In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
    "I feared it might injure my brain;
  But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
    Why, I do it again and again."

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Alice in Wonderland_.


  When the question arose how the title of Herold's
  charming opera, "Le Pré aux Clercs," should be
  rendered into English, [Beazley] quietly suggested
  "Parson's Green."

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.


  When I left the man in gaiters,
    He was grumbling, o'er his gin,
  At the charges of the hostess
    Of that famous Flemish inn;
  And he looked a very Briton
    (So, methinks, I see him still)
  As he pocketed the candle
    That was mentioned in the bill!

        JOHN GODFREY SAXE, _Poems_.


  Morality--keeping up appearances in this world,
  or becoming suddenly devout when we imagine
  that we may be shortly summoned to appear in
  the next.

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


  _ON PATRONS' PROMISES._

  A minister's answer is always so kind!
  I starve, and he tells me he'll keep me in mind.
  Half his promise, God knows, would my spirits restore--
  Let him keep me, and, faith, I will ask for no more.

        LORD HOLLAND, in MOORE's _Diary_.


  I know there's a stage of speculation in which a
  man may doubt whether a pickpocket is blameworthy--but
  I'm not one of your subtle fellows
  who keep looking at the world through their own legs.

        _Felix Holt_, in GEORGE ELIOT's novel.


  "A knock-me-down sermon, and worthy of Birch,"
  Says I to my wife, as we toddle from church.
  "Convincing, indeed!" is the lady's remark;
  "How logical, too, on the size of the Ark!"
  Then Blossom cut in, without begging our pardons,
  "Pa, was it as big as the 'Logical Gardens?"

  "Miss Blossom," says I, to my dearest of dearies,
  "Papa disapproves of nonsensical queries;
  The Ark was an Ark, and had people to build it,
  Enough we are told Noah built it and fill'd it:
  Mamma does not ask how he caught his opossums."
  --Said she, "That remark is as foolish as Blossom's!"

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  Books are fatal: they are the curse of the human
  race. Nine-tenths of existing books are nonsense,
  and the clever books are the refutation of
  that nonsense. The greatest misfortune that ever befell
  man was the invention of printing.

        Phoebus, in LORD BEACONSFIELD's _Lothair_.


  We can't assume, so Comte declares, a first or final cause, sir;
  Phenomena are all we know, their order and their laws, sir;
  While Hegel's modest formula, a single line to sum in,
  Is "Nothing is, and nothing's not, but everything's becomin'."

        F. D., in _Pall Mall Gazette_.


  If you wish particularly to gain the good graces and
  affection of certain people, men or women, try
  to discover their most striking merit, if they have
  one, and their dominant weakness, for every one has his
  own. Then do justice to the one, and a little more than
  justice to the other.

        LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Letters to his Son_.


  Tender ten may dote on toys,
  While for twelve jam tarts have joys,
  Feat fourteen's in love with boys--
                        Not a few.

        J. ASHBY STERRY, _Boudoir Ballads_.


  Juliet was a fool to kill herself. In three
  months she'd have married again, and been glad
  to be quit of Romeo.

        CHARLES BUXTON, _Notes of Thought_.


  A cornet waltzes, but a colonel weds.

        ALFRED AUSTIN, _The Season_.


  In the days when Pam retained the wheel,
  We knew the men with whom we had to deal;
  Then sucking statesmen seldom failed in seeing
  The final cause and import of their being.
  They dressed; they drove a drag; nor sought to shirk
  Their portion of the matrimonial work.
  They flocked to rout and drum by tens and twelves;
  Danced every dance, and left their cards themselves,
  While some obliging senatorial fag
  Slipped their petitions in the Speaker's bag.

        _Lady Matilda_, in G. O. TREVELYAN's _Ladies in Parliament_.


  Monk Lewis was a great favourite at Oatlands.
  One day after dinner, as the duchess was leaving
  the room, she whispered something in Lewis's
  ear. He was much affected, his eyes filling with tears.
  We asked him what was the matter. "Oh," replied
  Lewis, "the duchess spoke so _very_ kindly to me!"
  "My dear fellow," said Colonel Armstrong, "pray don't
  cry; I dare say she didn't mean it."

        ROGERS, _Table Talk_.


  Sweet is revenge--especially to women.

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


  A plain leg of mutton, my Lucy,
    I prithee get ready at three;
  Have it smoking and tender and juicy,
    And what better meat can there be?

  And when it has feasted the master,
    'Twill amply suffice for the maid;
  Meanwhile, I will smoke my canaster,
    And tipple my ale in the shade.

        W. M. THACKERAY.


  L'amour est comme les maladies épidémiques;
  plus on les craint, plus on y est exposé.

        CHAMFORT, _Maximes_.


  _MARRY_ (_AND_ DON'T) _COME UP_.

  A fellow that's single, a fine fellow's he;
  But a fellow that's married's a _felo de se_.

        SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.


  A brother actor, who had not exactly "taken
  the house by storm" at his first appearance in
  London, very stupidly asked Compton: "Was
  my acting good?" "Well," was the reply, delivered
  in his inimitable style, "hum! ha! _Good_ is not the
  word!"

        H. HOWE, in _Memoir of Henry Compton_.


  So when two dogs are fighting in the streets,
  When a third dog one of the two dogs meets,
  With angry tooth he bites him to the bone,
  And this dog smarts for what that dog has done.

        FIELDING, _Tom Thumb_.


  I recollect a humorous M.P. pointing out to
  me a retired West Indian judge not very remarkable
  for sagacity on the bench. There was a
  ball at Government House, and the judge began to criticise
  the dancing of a witty member of the Indian bar.
  "Ah, my friend, you are a bad waltzer!" "Ah, but you
  are a bad judge."

        MARK BOYD, _Reminiscences_.


  _Mrs. Cripps_: Things are seldom what they seem:
      Skim milk masquerades as cream;
      Highlows pass as patent leathers;
      Jackdaws strut in peacocks' feathers.

      _Captain_: Very true,
                      So they do.

  _Mrs. Cripps_: Black sheep dwell in every fold;
      All that glitters is not gold;
      Storks turn out to be but logs;
      Bulls are but inflated frogs.

      _Captain_: So they be,
                      Frequentlee.

        W. S. GILBERT, _H.M.S. Pinafore_.


  A friend meeting Sir George Rose one day in
  Lincoln's Inn Fields, with his left eye greatly
  swollen and inflamed, remonstrated with him,
  adding that he was surprised Lady Rose should have let
  him go out of doors in such a condition. "Ah," replied
  Sir George, "I am out _jure mariti_" (my right eye).

        _Macmillan's Magazine._


  It is no comfort to the _short_
  To know you cannot love _at all_!

        ROBERT REECE, in _Comic Poets_.


  "Edwin and Morcar, the Earls of Mercia and
  Northumbria, declared for him; and even
  Stigand, the patriotic Archbishop of Canterbury,
  found it advisable----"
  "Found _what?_" said the Duck.
  "Found _it_," the Mouse replied, rather crossly; "of
  course you know what 'it' means."
  "I know what 'it' means well enough, when _I_ find a
  thing," said the Duck; "it's generally a frog or a worm.
  The question is, what did the archbishop find?"

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Alice in Wonderland_.


  I've read in many a novel, that, unless they've
    souls that grovel,
  Folks _prefer_, in fact, a hovel
    to your dreary marble halls.

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.


  Marriage is a Bishop, choral service, Messrs.
  Hancock, and Brussels lace.

        ANNA C. STEELE.


  How beautifully blue the sky,
  The glass is rising very high,
  Continue fine I hope it may,
  And yet it rained but yesterday;
  To-morrow it may pour again
  (I hear the country wants some rain);
  Yet people say, I know not why,
  That we shall have a warm July.

        W. S. GILBERT, _Pirates of Penzance_.


  The Dowager-Duchess of Richmond went one Sunday
  with her daughter to the Chapel Royal at
  St. James's, but, being late, they could find no
  places. After looking about some time, and seeing the
  case was hopeless, she said to her daughter, "Come
  away, Louisa; at any rate we have done the civil thing."

        R. R. HAYDON, _Diary_.


  _ON NORTHERN LIGHTS._

  To roar and bore of Northern wights
    The tendency so frail is,
  That men do call those Northern Lights
    Au-ror-a Bor-ealis.

        JEKYLL, in MISS MITFORD's _Letters_.


  I'm forced to wink a good deal, for fear of seeing
  too much, for a neighbourly man must let himself
  be cheated a little.

         _Parson Lingon_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Felix Holt_.


  _Dulce_ it is, and _decorum_, no doubt, for the country to fall,--to
  Offer one's blood an oblation to Freedom, and die for the Cause; yet
  Still, individual culture is also something, and no man
  Finds quite distinct the assurance that he of all others is called on,
  Or would be justified even, in taking away from the world that
  Precious creature himself.

        _Claude_, in CLOUGH's _Amours de Voyage_.


  Notre repentir n'est pas tant un regret du mal
  que nous avons fait, qu'une crainte de celui qui
  nous en peut arriver.

        LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions_.


  _ON AN INANIMATE ACTRESS._

  Thou hast a score of parts not good,
      But two divinely shown:
  Thy Daphne a true piece of wood,
      Thy Niobe a stone.

        PALLADAS, trans. by R. GARNETT.


  We as often repent the good we have done as the
  ill.

        W. HAZLITT, _Characteristics_.


  The speech of Old England for me;
    It serves us on every occasion;
  Henceforth, like our soil, let it be
    Exempted from foreign invasion.
  It answers for friendship and love,
    For all sorts of feeling and thinking,
  And lastly, all doubt to remove--
    It answers for singing and drinking.

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


  A compliment is usually accompanied with a
  bow, as if to beg pardon for paying it.

        _Guesses at Truth._


  _THE TRAVELLER AND THE GORILLA._

  The gifts by Nature boon supplied
  This pair unequally divide:
  The traveller's tale is far from small,
  The monkey has no tail at all.

        R. GARNETT, _Idylls and Epigrams_.


  The more a man's worth, the worthier man he
  must be.

        _Dudley Smooth_, in LORD LYTTON's _Money_.


  Now to the banquet we press,
    Now for the eggs and the ham!
  Now for the mustard and cress,
    Now for the strawberry jam!
  Now for the tea of our host,
    Now for the rollicking bun,
  Now for the muffin and toast,
    And now for the gay Sally Lunn!

        W. S. GILBERT, _The Sorcerer_.


  It was in my schoolboy days that I failed as an
  actor. The play was the "Ruins of Pompeii."
  I played the Ruins. It was not a very successful
  performance, but it was better than the "Burning Mountains."
  He was not good. He was a bad Vesuvius.

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  He cannot be complete in aught
    Who is not humorously prone,--
  A man without a merry thought
    Can hardly have a funny bone.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  An actor named Priest was playing at one of the
  principal theatres. Some one remarked at the
  Garrick Club that there were a great many more
  in the pit--"Probably clerks who have taken Priest's
  orders."

        ABRAHAM HAYWARD, _Essays_.


  And she? she marries money and a man.

        ALFRED AUSTIN, _The Season_.


  A lady of my acquaintance, a brunette, happened
  to show her maid one of those little sticking-plaster
  profiles which they used to call _silhouettes_.
  It was the portrait of the lady's aunt, whom the girl had
  never seen, and she said quite innocently, "La, ma'am,
  I always thought as how you had some black relations,
  you are so dark-like yourself, you know!"

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _Patchwork_.


  He pored upon the leaves, and on the flowers,
    And heard a voice in all the winds; and then,
  He thought of wood nymphs and immortal bowers,
    And how the goddesses came down to men:
  He miss'd the pathway, he forgot the hours,
    And when he look'd upon his watch again,
  He found how much old Time had been a winner--
  He also found that he had lost his dinner.

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


  Ward had been a Whig, and became ministerial.
  "I wonder what could make me turn Whig
  again," said Ward. "That I can tell you," said
  [Lord] Byron. "They have only to _re-Ward_ you."

        CRABB ROBINSON, _Diary_.


  _DISTICH._

  As the meek beasts in the Garden came flocking for Adam to name them,
  Men for a title to-day crawl to the feet of a king.

        JOHN HAY, _Poems_.


  You cannot have everything, as the man said when
  he was down with small-pox and cholera, and
  the yellow fever came into the neighbourhood.

        C. D. WARNER, _My Summer in a Garden_.


  Whene'er I take my walks abroad,
    How many _rich_ I see!
  There's A. and B. and C. and D.
    All better off than me!

        R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.


  At one period of his boyhood, Macaulay's fancy
  was much exercised by the threats and terrors of
  the law. He had a little plot of ground at the
  back of the house, marked out as his own by a row of
  oyster-shells, which a maid one day threw away as rubbish.
  He went straight to the drawing-room, where his
  mother was entertaining some visitors, walked into the
  circle, and said very solemnly: "Cursed be Sally; for it
  is written, 'Cursed is he that removeth his neighbour's
  landmark.'"

        G. O. TREVELYAN, _Life of Macaulay_.


  If care were not the waiter
    Behind a fellow's chair,
  When easy-going sinners
  Sit down to Richmond dinners,
  And life's swift stream flows straighter--
    By Jove, it would be rare,
  If care were not the waiter
    Behind a fellow's chair.

  If wit were always radiant,
    And wine were always iced,
  And bores were kicked out straightway
  Through a convenient gateway;
  Then down the years' long gradient
    'Twere sad to be enticed,
  If wit were always radiant,
    And wine were always iced.

        MORTIMER COLLINS, in _The Owl_.


  Building a staircase for Sir Henry Meux, [Beazley]
  called it making a new "Gradus ad Parnassum,"
  because it was steps for the _muses_.

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.


  I cannot clear the five-bar gate,
  But, trying first its timber's state,
  Climb stiffly up, take breath, and wait
                      To trundle over.

        WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.


  La constance est la chimère de l'amour.

        VAUVENARGUES, _Réflexions_.


  _ON AN INTEMPERATE HUSBAND._

  Whence comes it that in Clara's face
  The lily only has a place?
  Is it because the absent rose
  Has gone to paint her husband's nose?

        _A Collection of Epigrams_ (1727).


  [Charles] Sheridan told me that his father,
  being a good deal plagued by an old maiden
  relation of his always going out to walk with
  him, said one day that the weather was bad and rainy;
  to which the old lady answered that, on the contrary, it
  had cleared up. "Yes," said Sheridan, "it has cleared
  enough for _one_, but not for _two_."

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  To Urn, or not to Urn? that is the question:
  Whether 'tis nobler for our frames to suffer
  The shows and follies of outrageous custom,
  Or to take fire--against a sea of zealots--
  And, by consuming, end them? To Urn--to keep--
  No more: and while we keep, to say we end
  Contagion and the thousand graveyard ills
  That flesh is heir to--'tis a consume-ation
  Devoutly to be wished!

        WILLIAM SAWYER.


  _ANSWER TO AN INQUIRY._

  "_Young author._"--Yes, Agassiz _does_ recommend
  authors to eat fish, because the phosphorus
  in it makes brains. So far you are
  correct. But I cannot help you to a decision about the
  amount you need to eat--at least, not with certainty. If
  the specimen composition you send is about your fair
  usual average, I should judge that perhaps a couple of
  whales would be all you would want for the present.
  Not the largest kind, but simply good, middling-sized
  whales.

        MARK TWAIN, _Choice Works_.


  The firm of Baxter, Rose, and Norton,
  Deny the plaintiffs Arthur Orton;
  But can't deny, what's more important,
  That he has done what Arthur oughtn't.

        ANON.


  Hume and his wife and several of their children
  were with me. Hume repeated the old saying,
  "One fool makes many." "Ay, Mr. Hume,"
  said I, pointing to the company, "you have a fine
  family."

        CHARLES LAMB, _apud_ CRABB ROBINSON.


  Plus on juge, moins on aime.

        BALZAC, _Physiologie du Mariage_.


  George the Third scolded Lord North for
  never going to the concert of antient music:
  "Your brother, the bishop," said the king,
  "never misses them, my lord." "Sir," answered the
  premier, "if I were as deaf as my brother, the bishop, I
  would never miss them either!"

        R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.


  _ON A MODERN ACTRESS._

  "Miss Neilson's 'benefit'," one says;
    I ask to what the phrase refers;
  For, sure, when such an artist plays,
    The "benefit" is ours, not hers.

        W. D. A.


  Our king [William IV.] is _ultra_-popular. Have
  you heard Lord Alvanley's _bon mot_ concerning
  him? He was standing at the window at White's,
  when the king, with a thousand of his loving subjects at
  his heels, was walking up St. James's Street. A friend
  said to him, "What are you staring at, Alvanley?" "I
  am waiting to see his Majesty's pocket picked," was the
  reply.

        MISS MITFORD, _Life and Letters_.


  Methinks the lays of now-a-days
  Are painfully in earnest.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  Hicks was talking to Thackeray of a certain
  gentleman's strange addiction to beer. "It's a
  great pity," said Hicks, "that he does not keep a
  check-rein on himself, for he is a marvellous fellow otherwise--I
  mean, for talent I hardly know his equal."
  "No," retorted Thackeray, "he is a remarkable man.
  Take him for half-and-half, we ne'er shall look upon his
  like again."

        J. C. YOUNG, _Diary_.


  Pro conibus calidis, conibus frigidis,
  Pro conibus mollibus, conibus rigidis,
    Pro conibus senibus
    Atque juvenibus,
      Gratias agimus fatis,
      Habuimus satis.

        ANON.


  One of the "Hooks and Eyes" was expatiating on
  the fact that he had dined three times at the
  Duke of Devonshire's, and that on neither occasion
  had there been any fish at table. "I cannot account
  for it," he added. "I can," said Jerrold: "they ate it all
  upstairs."

        CHARLES MACKAY, _Recollections_.


  Veracity is a plant of paradise, and its seeds
  have never flourished beyond the walls.

        _Machiavelli_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Romola_.


  I know not why my soul is rack'd:
    Why I ne'er smile as was my wont:
  I only know that, as a fact,
              I don't.

  I used to roam o'er glen and glade,
    Buoyant and blithe as other folk:
  And not unfrequently I made
              A joke.

  All day I sang; of love, of fame,
    Of fights our fathers fought of yore,
  Until the thing almost became
              A bore.

  I cannot sing the old songs now
    It is not that I deem them low;
  'Tis that I can't remember how
              They go.

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.


  During [a] drive, Lord William L----, a man
  of fashion, but, like other of the great men of
  the day, an issuer of paper money discounted at
  high rates by the usurers, was thrown off his horse.
  Mr. and Mrs. King immediately quitted the carriage, and
  placed the noble lord within. On this circumstance
  being mentioned in the clubs, Brummell observed it was
  only "a Bill _Jewly_ (duly) taken up and honoured."

       GRONOW, _Recollections_.


  She made the cleverest people quite ashamed,
  And even the good with inward envy groaned,
  Finding themselves so very much exceeded
  In their own way by all the things that she did.

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


  On the elevation of some childless person to the
  peerage, [Lady Charlotte Lindsay] remarked
  that he was "of the new Order, which seemed
  the popular one, not of the Barons, but the Barrens."

        LORD HOUGHTON, _Monographs_.


  Oft when petty annoyances ruffle the soul,
  And the temper defies philosophic control,
  The emotion is quelled, and a calm will succeed,
  Through the simple device of inhaling the Weed:
  Such magical power has the soothing Canaster
  To bring balmy content and good humour to Gaster.

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


  Morgan John O'Connell had the ready
  wit of his country in a remarkable degree. We
  were walking by the Wey one day, when an
  Oxford graduate, who had a taste for botany, plucked a
  flower (_Balsamum impatiens_) from the river, remarking
  that it was a very rare plant. "It is an out-of-the-_Wey_
  one, at any rate," was the instantaneous reply.

        W. H. HARRISON, _University Magazine_.


  Oh! 'tis the most tremendous bore
      Of all the bores I know,
  To have a friend who's lost his heart
      A short time ago.

        _Bon Gaultier Ballads._


  I never on any account allow my business to
  interfere with my drinking.

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  _NURSERY RHYME._

  What is an Englishman made of?
    Roast beef and jam tart,
    And a pint of good Clar't,
  And that's what an Englishman's made of.

  What is a Frenchman, pray, made of?
    Horse steak, and frog fritter,
    And absinthe so bitter,
  And that's what a Frenchman is made of.

        SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.


  Marriage is a desperate thing. The frogs in
  Æsop were extreme wise; they had a great mind
  to some water, but they would not leap into the
  well, because they could not get out again.

        SELDEN, _Table Talk_.


  ("Don't speak so hard of ----; he lives on your
  good graces.") That accounts for his being
  so thin.

        LADY ASHBURTON, _apud_ LORD HOUGHTON.


  We are wise--and we make ourselves hazy;
      We are foolish--and so, go to church;
    While Sambo but laughs, and is lazy
    (Vile discipline! lend me thy birch);
  He dreams of no life save the present,
    His virtue is but when it suits;
  Sometimes, which is not quite so pleasant,
      I miss coat or boots.

        _Once a Week._


  You remember Thurlow's answer to some one complaining
  of the injustice of a company, "Why,
  you never expected justice from a company, did
  you? They have neither a soul to save, nor a body to
  kick."

        SYDNEY SMITH, _Life and Letters_.


  Elliston, the actor, a self-educated man, was
  playing cribbage one evening, with Lamb, and
  on drawing out his first card, exclaimed, "When
  Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war." "Yes,"
  replied Lamb, "and when _you_ meet Greek, you don't
  understand it."

        _Life of Rev. W Harness._


  To Justice Park's brother, who was a great church-goer,
  some one applied the words, "_Parcus_
  deorum cultor."

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  "You'll soon get used to her looks," said he,
    "And a very nice girl you'll find her;
  She may very well pass for forty-three,
    In the dusk, with a light behind her!"

        _Judge_, in W. S. GILBERT's _Trial by Jury_.


  "My brethren," said Swift in a sermon, "there are
  three sorts of pride--of birth, of riches, and of
  talents. I shall not now speak of the latter,
  none of you being liable to that abominable vice."

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


  No doubt this patience, when the world is damning us,
    Is philosophic in our former friends;
  It is also pleasant to be deem'd magnanimous,
    The more so in obtaining our own ends.
  Revenge in person's certainly no virtue,
  But then 'tis not _my_ fault if _others_ hurt you.

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


  He was not an intellectual Croesus, but his pockets
  were full of sixpences.

        LORD BEACONSFIELD, _Lothair_.


  It's after a dinner at Freemason's Hall
  That the orator's talent shines brightest of all;
  When his eye becomes glazed, and his voice becomes thick,
  And he's had so much hock he can only say _hic_.
  So the company leave him to slumber and snore
  Till he's put in a hat and conveyed to the door;
  And he finds, upon reaching his home in a cab,
  That his wife rather shines in the gift of the gab.

        H. S. LEIGH, _Carols of Cockayne_.


  One of our countrymen having been introduced by
  M. de la Rochefoucauld to Mademoiselle Bigottini,
  the beautiful and graceful dancer, in the
  course of conversation with this gentleman, asked him in
  what part of the theatre he was placed; upon which he
  replied, "Mademoiselle, _dans un loge róti_," instead of
  "_grillé_." The lady could not understand what he meant,
  until his introducer explained the mistake, observing,
  "_Ces diables d'Anglais pensent toujours à leur Rosbif_."

        GRONOW, _Recollections_.


  The sea was wet as wet could be,
      The sands were dry as dry,
    You could not see a cloud, because
    No cloud was in the sky:
  No birds were flying overhead--
    There were no birds to fly.

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Through the Looking-Glass_.


  A man of business should always have his eyes
  open, but must often seem to have them shut.

        LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Maxims_.


  Next morning twelve citizens came
    ('Twas the coroner bade them attend)
  To the end that it might be determined
    How the man had determined his end!

        JOHN GODFREY SAXE, _Poems_.


  I remember on one occasion acting in "Venice
  Preserved." A long and rather drowsy dying
  speech of my poor friend Jaffier was "dragging
  its slow length along," when one of the gallery, in a tone
  of great impatience, called out very loudly, "Ah now, die
  at once;" to which another from the other side immediately
  replied, "Be quiet, you blackguard," then, turning
  with a patronizing tone to the lingering Jaffier, "Take
  your time!"

        W. C. MACREADY, _Diary_.


  The days they grow shorter and shorter,
    The town's worse than ever for smoke,
  Invention, Necessity's daughter!
    How long must we blacken and choke?
  Much longer we ne'er can endure it,
    The smother each resident damns;
  Unless something's done to cure it,
    'Twill cure _us_ like so many hams.

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Songs and Poems_.


  A kind Providence furnishes the limpest personality
  with a little gum or starch in the form of
  tradition.

        GEORGE ELIOT, _Middlemarch_.


  Oil and water--woman and a secret--
  Are hostile properties.

        _Baradas_, in LORD LYTTON's _Richelieu_.


  At a musical _soirée_ in Paris, a lady, possessing a
  magnificent soprano voice and remarkable facility
  of execution, sang the great Maestro's well-known
  aria, "Una Voce," with great effect, but overladen
  with fiorituri of the most elaborate description. Rossini,
  at its conclusion, advanced to the piano and complimented
  the lady most highly upon her vocal powers, terminating
  his encomiums with the cruel inquiry: "Mais
  de qui est la musique?"

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.


  _ON A BAD SINGER._

  Swans sing before they die; 'twere no bad thing
  Did certain persons die before they sing.

        S. T. COLERIDGE.


  "Is life worth living?" That depends upon the
  liver.

        _The World._


  _OLD LOVES._

  "Then, you liked little Bowes."--
    "And you liked Jane Raby!"
  "But you like _me_ now, Rose?"--
  "As I liked 'little Bowes'!"
  "Am I then to suppose----"
    "_Hush!--you mustn't wake baby!_"
  "_Did_ you like little Bowes?"--
    "If you liked Jane Raby!"

        AUSTIN DOBSON, _Proverbs in Porcelain_.


  Women, when left to themselves, talk chiefly about
  their dress; they think more about their lovers
  than they talk about them.

        W. HAZLITT, _Characteristics_.


  O if billows and pillows, and bowers and flowers,
    And all the brave rhymes of an elder day,
  Could be furled together, this genial weather,
    And carted, or carried on "wafts" away,
  Nor ever again trotted out--ah me!
  How much fewer volumes of verse there'd be!

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.


  _Miss Prue._ Must I tell a lie, then?
  _Tattle._ Yes, if you'd be well-bred. All well-bred
  persons lie.

        CONGREVE, _Love for Love_.


  Some attacks on the lungs, that of woe would be full,
  Are repelled by a filter of loose Cotton Wool;
  But a barrier of brass, or a _chevaux-de-frise_,
  Won't exclude some descriptions of Dust and Disease.

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


  When an acquaintance came up to him and said,
  "Why, Jerrold, I hear you said my nose was like
  the ace of clubs!" Jerrold returned, "No, I
  didn't; but now I look at it, I see it is very like."

        MRS. COWDEN CLARKE.


  _WUS, EVER WUS._

  Wus, ever wus! By freak of Puck's
    My most exciting hopes are dashed;
  I never wore my spotless ducks
    But madly--wildly!--they were splashed.

  I never roved by Cynthia's beam,
    To gaze upon the starry sky,
  But some old stiff-backed beetle came,
    And charged into my pensive eye.

  And oh! I never did the swell
    In Regent Street, amongst the beaus,
  But smuts the most prodigious fell,
    And always settled on my nose!

        H. CHOLMONDELEY PENNELL, _Puck on Pegasus_.


  L'hymen vient après l'amour, comme la fumée
  après la flamme.

        CHAMFORT, _Maximes_.


  It may be so--perhaps thou hast
    A warm and loving heart;
  I will not blame thee for thy face,
    Poor devil as thou art.
  That thing thou fondly deem'st a nose,
    Unsightly though it be--
  In spite of all the cold world's scorn,
    It may be much to thee.

  Those eyes--among thine elder friends
    Perhaps they pass for blue;
  No matter--if a man can see,
    What more have eyes to do?
  Thy mouth--that fissure in thy face,
    By something like a chin,
  May be a very useful place
    To put thy victuals in.

        OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.


  Nothing shows one who his friends are, like
  prosperity and ripe fruit. I had a good friend
  in the country whom I almost never visited
  except in cherry time. By your fruits you shall know
  them.

        C. D. WARNER, _My Summer in a Garden_.


  _AN EPITAPH._

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

        G. J. CAYLEY, in _Comic Poets_.


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

        _Lady Montfort_, in LORD BEACONSFIELD's _Endymion_.


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

        BRET HARTE, _Complete Works_.


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

        R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.


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

        ALFRED AUSTIN, _The Season_.


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

        CHARLES DICKENS, _apud_ J. T. FIELDS.


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

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


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

        _Celia Brooke_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Middlemarch_.


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

        J. S. BLACKIE, _Musa Burschicosa_.


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

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


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

        G. O. TREVELYAN, _Ladies in Parliament_.


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

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  Rise up, cold reverend, to a see;
    Confound the unbeliever!
  Yet ne'er 'neath thee my seat shall be
    For ever and for ever.

  Preach, softly preach, in lawn and be
    A comely, model liver,
  But ne'er 'neath thee my seat shall be
    For ever and for ever.

  And here shall sleep thy Alderman,
    And here thy pauper shiver,
  And here by thee shall buzz the "she,"
    For ever and for ever.

  A thousand men shall sneer at thee,
    A thousand women quiver,
  But ne'er 'neath thee my seat shall be
    For ever and for ever.

        _The Shotover Papers._


  For people to live happily together, the real secret
  is, that they should not live too much together.

        _Ellesmere_, in HELPS's _Friends in Council_.


  Lord Ellenborough's saying to a witness;
  "Why, you are an industrious fellow; you must
  have taken pains with yourself; no man was
  ever _naturally_ so stupid."

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  If you've a thousand a year or a minute;
    If you're a D'Orsay, whom every one follows;
  If you've a head (it don't matter what's in it)
                        Fair as Apollo's;
  If you approve of flirtations, good dinners,
    Seascapes divine which the merry winds whiten,
  Nice little saints and still nicer young sinners,--
                        Winter in Brighton!

        MORTIMER COLLINS.


  He [Bagehot] used to say, banteringly, to his mother,
  by way of putting her off at a time when she was
  anxious for him to marry, "A man's mother is
  his misfortune, but his wife is his fault!"

        R. H. HUTTON, _Memoir of W. Bagehot_.


  _A LADY ON THE PRINCESSE DRESS._

  My dress, you'll aver, is Economy's own,
    Designed with most exquisite taste;
  From zone unto hem, and from tucker to zone,
    You can't find a vestige of _waist_!

        J. ASHBY STERRY, in _English Epigrams_.


  Lord Palmerston, during his last attack of
  gout, exclaimed, playfully, "_Die_, my dear
  doctor! That's the _last_ thing I think of doing."

        J. C. JEAFFRESON, _About Lawyers_.


  _ON POVERTY._

  He who in his pocket has no money
  Should, in his mouth, be never without honey.

        _Epigrams in Distich._


  Tavern--a house kept for those who are not
  housekeepers.

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


  When the breakfast is spread,
    When the topers are mellow,
  When the foam of the bride-cake is white, and
    the fierce orange-blossoms are yellow.

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Phantasmagoria_.


  On [one] occasion, at a concert, a very indifferent
  tenor, who sang repeatedly out of tune, was indiscreet
  enough to express his regret to Rossini
  that he should have heard him for the first time in that
  room, as, he complained, "Le plafond est si sourd."
  Rossini raised his eyes to the abused ceiling, and simply
  ejaculated, "Heureux plafond!"

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.


  If, sick of home and luxuries,
    You want a new sensation,
  And sigh for the unwonted ease
    Of _un_accommodation,--
  If you would taste, as amateur,
    And vagabond beginner,
  The painful pleasures of the poor--
    Get up a picnic dinner.

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


  A country rector, coming up to preach at
  Oxford in his turn, complained to Dr. Routh,
  the venerable Principal of Maudlin, that the
  remuneration was very inadequate, considering the
  travelling expenses and the labour necessary for the
  composition of the discourse. "How much did they
  give you?" inquired Dr. Routh. "Only five pounds,"
  was the reply. "Only five pounds?" repeated the
  doctor; "why, I would not have preached that sermon
  for fifty!"

        _Life of Rev. W. Harness._


  Dey vented to de Voman's Righds,
    Vere laties all agrees,
  De gals should pe de voters,
    And deir beaux all de votées.
  "For efery man dat nefer vorks,
    Von frau should vranchised pe:
  Dat ish de vay I solf dis ding,"
    Said Breitmann, said he.

        C. G. LELAND, _Breitmann Ballads_.


  There is nothing more universally commended
  than a fine day; the reason is, that people can
  commend it without envy.

        SHENSTONE, _Essays_.


  Let the singing singers,
  With vocal voices, most vociferous,
  In sweet vociferation out-vociferize
  Even sound itself.

        _Chrononhotonthologos_, in CAREY's farce.


  Giving advice is, many times, only the privilege
  of saying a foolish thing one's self, under pretence
  of hindering another from doing one.

        POPE, _Thoughts on Various Subjects_.


  Of pay or play may preach this knot--
    Of death or duns or love's devotion--
  I tied it yesterday, but what
  It means, I've not the faintest notion.

        H. CHOLMONDELEY PENNELL, _Pegasus Resaddled_.


  _René._ Qu'est ce que c'est donc que les affaires,
  Monsieur Giraud?
  _Giraud._ Les affaires? c'est bien simple; c'est
  l'argent des autres.

        DUMAS fils, _La Question d'Argent_.


  Tous les méchants sont buveurs d'eau.

        COMTE DE SÉGUR.


  Miss Pellingle commences "Rousseau's
  Dream," with variations. Beautiful melody, by
  itself first, clear and distinct.

  Now the air tries to break out between alternate notes,
  like a prisoner behind bars. Then we have a variation
  entirely bass.

  _Happy thought._--Rousseau snoring.

  Then a scampering up, a meeting with the right
  hand, a scampering down, and a leap off one note into
  space. Then both in the middle, wobbling; then down
  into the bass again.

  _Happy thought._--Rousseau after a heavy supper.

  A plaintive variation.--Rousseau in pain.

  Light strain: Mazurka time.--Rousseau kicking in his
  sleep.

        F. C. BURNAND, _Happy Thoughts_.


  Sad is that woman's lot who, year by year,
  Sees, one by one, her beauties disappear,
  When Time, grown weary of her heart-drawn sighs,
  Impatiently begins to "dim her eyes!"
  Compelled at last, in life's uncertain gloamings,
  To wreathe her wrinkled brow with well-saved "combings,"
  Reduced with rouge, lip-salve, and pearly gray,
  To "make up" for lost time, as best she may!

        _Lady Jane_, in W. S. GILBERT's _Patience_.


  No coinage in circulation so fluctuates in value as
  the worth of a marriageable man.

        LORD LYTTON, _What will he do with it?_


  _ANATHEMA IN EXCELSIS._

  Creed of St. Anathasius? No, indeed.
  Call it, good priests, the Anathemasian Creed.

        SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.


  Mistrust all those who love you extremely upon
  a very slight acquaintance, and without any
  visible reason.

        LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Maxims_.


  _BENEVOLENT NEUTRALITY._

  When man and wife at odds fall out,
      Let Syntax be your tutor;
    'Twixt masculine and feminine,
  What should one be but neuter?

        ANON.


  MY friend the late Sam Phillips one day met Douglas
  Jerrold, and told him he had seen, the day before,
  Payne Collier looking wonderfully gay and
  well--quite an evergreen. "Ah," said Jerrold, "he may
  be evergreen, but he's never _read_." On my repeating
  this to Hicks, he smiled and said, "Now that's what I
  call 'ready wit.'"

        J. C. YOUNG, _Diary_.


  One day, when conversing with [a] friend, something
  was said on the subject of religious persecution,
  on which [Whately] remarked, "It is no wonder
  that some English people have a taste for persecuting on
  account of religion, since it is the first lesson that most
  are taught in their nurseries." His friend expressed his
  incredulity, and denied that _he_, at least, had been taught
  it. "Are you sure?" replied Dr. Whately. "What
  think you of this--
    'Old Daddy Longlegs _won't say his prayers_,
    Take him by the left leg, and throw him downstairs'?

  If that is not religious persecution, what is?"

        E. J. WHATELY, _Life of Whately_.


  _ON A PUBLIC-HOUSE._

  Of this establishment how can we speak?
  Its cheese is mity, and its ale is weak.

        ANON.


  At a fête at Hatfield House, _tableaux vivants_ were
  among the chief amusements, and scenes from
  _Ivanhoe_ were among the selections. All the
  parts were filled up but that of _Isaac of York_. Lady
  Salisbury begged Lord Alvanley "to make the set complete,
  by doing the Jew." "Anything in my power your
  ladyship may demand," replied Alvanley; "but though
  no man in England has tried oftener, I never could _do a
  Jew_ in my life."

        R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.


  There's nothing we read of in torture's inventions,
  Like a well-meaning dunce with the best of intentions.

        J. R. LOWELL, _A Fable for Critics_.


  _THE POPE._

  Miss D., on her return to the Highlands of Scotland,
  from Rome, went to see an auld Scottish
  wife, and said, to interest the old woman, "I
  have been to Rome since I saw you--I have seen all
  sorts of great people--I have seen the Pope." The sympathetic
  old dame replied with animation, "The Pope of
  Rome!--Honest marn!--haze he ony family?"

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _Patchwork_.


  Nay, tempt me not, Arab, again to stay;
  Since I crave neither _Echo_ nor _Fun_ to-day,
  For thy _hand_ is not Echoless--there they are,
  _Fun_, _Glowworm_, and _Echo_, and _Evening Star_:
  And thou hintest withal that thou fain wouldst shine,
  As I con them, these bulgy old boots of mine.
  But I shrink from thee, Arab! Thou eat'st eel-pie,
  Thou evermore hast at least one black eye;
  There is brass on thy brow, and thy swarthy hues
  Are due not to nature but handling shoes;
  And the bit in thy mouth, I regret to see,
  Is a bit of tobacco-pipe--Flee, child, flee!

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.


  The bulk of men in our days are just as immoral as
  they were in Charles the Second's; the only
  difference is that they are incomparably more
  stupid, and that instead of decking their immorality with
  the jewels of wit, they clumsily try to cover it with the
  tarpaulin of respectability.

        _Mr. Luke_, in MALLOCK's _New Republic_.


  _WHY WIVES MAKE NO WILLS._

  Men dying make their wills, why cannot wives?
  Because wives have their wills during their lives.

        R. HUGMAN (_circa_ 1628).


  What the mischief do you suppose you want with a
  post-office at Baldwin's Ranch? It would not
  do you any good. If any letters came there,
  you couldn't read them, you know; and besides, such
  letters as ought to pass through, with money in them, for
  other localities, would not be likely to _get_ through, you
  must perceive at once; and that would make trouble for
  us all. No; don't bother about a post-office at your
  camp. What you want is a nice jail, you know--a nice,
  substantial jail, and a free school. These will be a
  lasting benefit to you. These will make you really contented
  and happy.

        MARK TWAIN, _Choice Works_.


  Nous avons tous assez de force pour supporter les
  maux d'autrui.

        LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions_.


  Rogers happened to ask Macaulay what he
  thought of Miss Harriet Martineau's wonderful
  cures by mesmerism. He said, with one of his
  rare smiles, "Oh, it's all my eye, and Hetty Martineau!"

        LADY CHATTERTON, _Life_.


  Tame is Virtue's school;
    Paint, as more effective,
  Villain, knave, and fool,
    With always a Detective.
  Hate for Love may sit;
    Gloom will do for Gladness;
  Banish Sense and Wit,
    And dash in lots of Madness.

  Stir the broth about;
    Keep the furnace glowing;
  Soon we'll pour it out
    In three bright volumes flowing.
  Some may jeer and jibe:
    _We_ know where the shop is,
  Ready to subscribe
    For a thousand copies!

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


  Th' young men noo-a-days, they're poor squashy
  things--the' looke well anoof, but the' woon't
  wear, the' woon't wear.

        _"Mester" Ford_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Mr. Gilfil_.


  "Where are the boys of my youth?" I assure you
  this is not a conundrum. Some are amongst
  you here--some in America--some are in
  gaol.

  Hence arises a most touching question: "Where are
  the girls of my youth?" Some are married--some
  would like to be.

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  Mark how the lorgnettes cautiously they raise
  Lest points, no pose so thoughtless but displays,
  A too quick curiosity should hide--
  For they who gaze must gazed-at be beside.

        ALFRED AUSTIN, _The Season_.


  I sent the book down to the Dean, from Saunders
  and Otley's. Speaking of that firm, I don't know
  whether I told you of young Sutton, Lord
  Canterbury's son, calling there one day very angry,
  because they had not sent him some books he had
  ordered. He was, as usual, pretty warm, and so much
  so that one of the partners could bear it no longer, and
  told him as much. "I don't know who you are," was
  the answer, "but I don't want to annoy you _personally_,
  as you may not be the one in fault: it's your confounded
  house that I blame. You may be Otley, or you may be
  Saunders; if you are Saunders, d---- Otley; if you are
  Otley, d---- Saunders. I mean nothing personal _to you_."

        R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.


  Of all actions of a man's life, his marriage does
  least concern other people, yet of all actions of
  our life 'tis most meddled with by other people.

        SELDEN, _Table Talk_.


  A grave and quiet man was he,
    Who loved his book and rod,--
  So even ran his line of life
    His neighbours thought it odd.

  He ne'er aspired to rank or wealth,
    Nor cared about a name,
  For though much famed for fish was he,
    He never fished for fame!

  Let others bend their necks at sight
    Of Fashion's gilded wheels,
  He ne'er had learned the art to "bob"
    For anything but eels!

        JOHN GODFREY SAXE, _Poems_.


  A little knowledge of the world is a very
  dangerous thing, especially in literature.

        _Lord Montfort_, in LORD BEACONSFIELD's _Endymion_.


  Si les hommes ne se flattaient pas les uns les autres,
  il n'y aurait guère de société.

        VAUVENARGUES, _Réflexions_.


  The gravest aversion exists among bears
  From rude forward persons who give themselves airs,--
  We know how some graceless young people were maul'd
  For plaguing a Prophet, and calling him _bald_.

  Strange ursine devotion! their dancing-days ended,
  Bears die to "remove" what, in life, they defended:
  They succour'd the Prophet, and, since that affair,
  The bald have a painful regard for the bear.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  Heaven knows what would become of our sociality
  if we never visited people we speak ill of; we
  should live, like Egyptian hermits, in crowded
  solitude.

        GEORGE ELIOT, _Janet's Repentance_.


  Methinks the older that one grows
  Inclines us more to laugh than scold, though laughter
  Leaves us so doubly serious shortly after.

        LORD BYRON, _Beppo_.


  We ought never to contend for what we are not
  likely to obtain.

        CARDINAL DE RETZ, _Memoirs_.


  "I will never marry a woman who cannot carve,"
  said M----. "Why?" "Because she would
  not be a help-meat for me."

        _Literary Gazette._


  Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
  How I wonder what you're at!
  Up above the world you fly,
  Like a tea-tray in the sky.

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Alice in Wonderland_.


  We had for dinner, among other things, a ham which
  was not well flavoured; and Mrs. Frederick
  Mackenzie, who was annoyed about it, began
  apologizing, and saying that Ellerton, the local grocer,
  had sold it to her as something very excellent, and as a
  genuine Westphalia. "Ah!" said Compton, "I cannot
  determine precisely whether it is east or west, but it is a
  _failure_ of some sort."

        R. B. CARTER, in _Memoir of H. Compton_.


  One of the company asserting that he had seen a
  pike caught, which weighed thirty-six pounds,
  and was four feet in length,--"Had it been a
  sole," said Harry [Sandford], "it would have surprised
  me less, as Shakespeare tells us, 'All the _souls_ that are,
  were _four feet_ (forfeit) once.'"

        R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.


  There is safety in numbers, especially in odd
  numbers. The Three Graces never married,
  neither did the Nine Muses.

        _Kenelm Chillingly_, in LORD LYTTON's novel.


  _DISTICH._

  There are three species of creatures who when
    they seem coming are going,
  When they seem going they come: Diplomats,
    women, and crabs.

        JOHN HAY, _Poems_.


  If a man might know
  The ill he must undergo,
  And shun it so,
  Then were it good to know.
  But if he undergo it,
  Though he know it,
  What boots him know it?
  He must undergo it.

        SIR JOHN SUCKLING.


  Barry Cornwall told me that when he and
  Charles Lamb were once making up a dinner-party
  together, Charles asked him not to invite
  a certain lugubrious friend of theirs. "Because," said
  Lamb, "he would cast a damper even over a funeral."

        J. T. FIELDS, _Yesterdays with Authors_.


  L'amour plaît plus que le mariage, par la
  raison que les romans sont plus amusants que
  l'histoire.

        CHAMFORT, _Maximes_.


  The farmers daughter hath frank blue eyes;
    (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_)
  She hears the rooks caw in the windy skies,
    As she sits at her lattice and shells her peas.

  The farmer's daughter hath ripe red lips;
    (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_)
  If you try to approach her, away she skips
    Over tables and chairs with apparent ease.

  The farmer's daughter hath soft brown hair;
    (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_)
  And I met with a ballad, I can't say where,
    Which wholly consisted of lines like these.

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.


  Macready told a story of George B----, the
  actor, who, it seems, was not popular in the profession,
  being considered a sort of time-server:
  "There goes Georgius," said some one. "Not Georgium
  Sidus?" replied Keeley. "Yes," added Power, "Georgium
  _Any_-sidus."

        R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.


  I'm weary, and sick, and disgusted
    With Britain's mechanical din;
  Where I'm much too well known to be trusted,
    And plaguily pestered for tin;
  Where love has two eyes for your banker,
    And one chilly flame for yourself;
  Where souls can afford to be franker,
    But where they're well garnished with pelf.

  I'm sick of the whole race of poets,
    Emasculate, misty, and fine;
  They brew their small beer, and don't know its
    Distinction from full-bodied wine.
  I'm sick of the prosers, that house up
    At drowsy St. Stephen's--ain't you?
  I want some strong spirits to rouse up
    A good resolution or two!

        _Bon Gaultier Ballads_.


  "On one occasion," said Brummell, "I called to
  inquire after a young lady who had sprained
  her ankle. Lewis, on being asked how she
  was, had said in the black's presence, 'The doctor has
  seen her, put her legs straight, and the poor chicken is
  doing well.' The servant, therefore, told me, with a very
  mysterious and knowing look, 'Oh, sir, the doctor has
  been here; she has laid eggs, and she and the chickens
  are doing well.'"

        GRONOW, _Recollections_.


  A Scottish clergyman had some years since
  been cited before the Ecclesiastical Assembly
  at Edinburgh, to answer to a charge brought
  against him of great irreverence in religious matters, and
  Sir Walter [Scott] was employed by him to arrange his
  defence. The principal fact alleged against him was his
  having asserted, in a letter which was produced, that "he
  considered Pontius Pilate to be a very ill-used man, as
  he had done more for Christianity than all the other _nine
  Apostles_ put together." The fact was proved, and suspension
  followed.

        R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.


  _ON DIDACTICS IN POETRY._

  Parnassus' peaks still catch the sun;
    But why--O lyric brother!--
  Why build a Pulpit on the one,
  A Platform on the other?

        AUSTIN DOBSON, in _Latter-Day Lyrics_.


  My old fellow-traveller in Germany, himself an Irishman,
  being on the box of an Irish mail-coach on
  a very cold day, and observing the driver enveloping
  his neck in the voluminous folds of an ample
  "comforter," remarked, "You seem to be taking very
  good care of yourself, my friend." "Och, to be shure I
  am, sir," answered the driver; "what's all the world to a
  man when his wife's a widdy?"

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.


  ---- has nothing truly human about him; he can't
  even yawn like a man.

        LADY ASHBURTON, _apud_ LORD HOUGHTON.


  We are apt to be kinder to the brutes that love us
  than to the women that love us. Is it because
  the brutes are dumb?

        GEORGE ELIOT, _Adam Bede_.


  A frontispiece of a new magazine,
  With all the fashions which the last month wore,
  Colour'd, and silver-paper leaved between
  That and the title page, for fear the press
  Should soil with parts of speech the parts of dress.

        LORD BYRON, _Beppo_.


  "I wish to consult you upon a little project I
  have formed," said a noodle to his friend. "I
  have an idea in my head----" "Have you?"
  interposed the friend, with a look of great surprise;
  "then you shall have my opinion at once: _keep it there_!--it
  may be some time before you get another."

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


  On aime mieux dire du mal de soi-même que de
  n'en point parler.

        LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions_.


  And I said, "Why is this thus? What is the reason
  of this thusness?"

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  _THEOLOGICAL HOROLOGY._

  There's this to say about the Scotch,
    So bother bannocks, braes, and birks,
  They can't produce a decent watch,
  For Calvinists despise good works.

        SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.


  Dawson told a good story about the Irish landlord
  counting out the change of a guinea. "12,
  13, 14" (a shot heard); "Bob, go and see who's
  that that's killed; 15, 16, 17" (enter Bob). "It's Kelly,
  sir." "Poor Captain Kelly, a very good customer of
  mine; 18, 19, 20--there's your change, sir."

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  Can this be Balbus, household word for all,
  Whose earliest exploit was to build a wall:
  Who, with a frankness that I'm sure must charm ye,
  Declared it was all over with the army?
  Can this be he who feasted, as 'twas said,
  The town at forty sesterces a head?
  But, while the thankless mob his bounty quaffed,
  Historians add--that there were some who laughed.

        _Horace_, in G. O. TREVELYAN's _Horace at Athens_.


  I should never like scolding any one else so
  well; and that is a point to be thought of in a
  husband.

        _Mary Garth_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Middlemarch_.


  In Logic a woman may seldom excel;
  But in Rhetoric always she bears off the bell.
  Fair Portia will show woman's talent for law,
  When in old Shylock's bond she could prove such a flaw.
  She would blunder in physic no worse than the rest,
  She could leave things to Nature as well as the best,
  She could feel at your wrist, she could finger your fee;
  Then why should a woman not get a degree?

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


  _Quam parvâ sapientiâ regitur mundus._ Say rather,
  _quam magnâ stultitiâ_.

        CHARLES BUXTON, _Notes of Thought_.


  The padded corsage and the well-matched hair,
  Judicious jupon spreading out the spare,
  Sleeves well designed soft plumpness to impart,
  Leave vacant still the hollows of the heart.

        ALFRED AUSTIN, _The Season_.


  A Tailor is partly an alchemist, for he extracteth
  his own apparel out of other men's clothes.

        SIR THOMAS OVERBURY, _Characters_.


  I am quite ashamed to take people into my garden,
  and have them notice the absence of onions. In
  onion is strength; and a garden without it lacks
  flavour.

        C. D. WARNER, _My Summer in a Garden_.


  Torbay had incurred a good deal of expense
  To make him a Scotchman in every sense
  But this is a matter, you'll readily own,
  That isn't a question of tailors alone.

  A Sassenach chief may be bonily built,
  He may purchase a sporran, a bonnet, and kilt,
  Stick a skean in his hose--wear an acre of stripes--
  But he cannot assume an affection for pipes.

        W. S. GILBERT, _Bab Ballads_.


  When you have found the master-passion of a man,
  remember never to trust him where that passion
  is concerned.

        LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Letters to his Son_.


  _ON ONE WHO SPOKE LITTLE._

  "I hardly ever ope my lips," one cries:
    "Simonides, what think you of my rule?"
  "If you're a fool, I think you're very wise;
  If you are wise, I think you are a fool."

        R. GARNETT, _Idylls and Epigrams_.


  Nous aimons mieux voir ceux à qui nous faisons
  du bien que ceux qui nous en font.

        LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions_.


  _ALL SAINTS'_.

  In a church which is furnish'd with mullion and gable,
    With altar and reredos, with gargoyle and groin,
  The penitents' dresses are sealskin and sable,
    The odour of sanctity's eau-de-Cologne.
  But only could Lucifer, flying from Hades,
    Gaze down on this crowd with its panniers and paints,
  He would say, as he look'd at the lords and the ladies,
    "Oh, where is All Sinners', if this is All Saints'?"

        EDMUND YATES.


  If we are long absent from our friends, we forget
  them; if we are constantly with them, we despise
  them.

        W. HAZLITT, _Characteristics_.


  A well-known _litterateur_, on seeing [Lady
  Ruthven], after breakfast, feeding her pheasants
  with crumbs and milk, exclaimed, "Ah! I see
  your ladyship is preparing them _here_, for bread-sauce
  _hereafter_."

        J. C. YOUNG, _Diary_.


  The second canto of the "Pleasures of Memory,"
  as published in the first edition, commenced
  with the lines--
    "Sweet memory, wafted by thy gentle gale,
     Oft up the tide of Time I turn my sail."

  [A] critic remarked on this passage that it suggested the
  alliteration--
    "Oft up the tide of Time I turn my _tail_."

        ROGERS, _Table Talk_.


  I like the man who makes a pun,
    Or drops a deep remark;
  I like philosophy or fun--
    A lecture or a lark;
  But I despise the men who gloat
  Inanely over anecdote.

  Ah me! I'd rather live alone
    Upon a desert isle,
  Without a voice except my own
    To cheer me all the while,
  Than dwell with men who learn by rote
  Their paltry funds of anecdote.

        H. S. LEIGH, _Carols of Cockayne_.


  No woman is too silly not to have a genius for
  spite.

        ANNA C. STEELE.


  That's what a man wants in a wife mostly; he
  wants to make sure o' one fool as 'ull tell him
  he's wise.

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


  The characters of great and small
    Come ready-made, we can't bespeak one;
  Their sides are many, too,--and all
    (Except ourselves) have got a weak one.
  Some sanguine people love for life,
    Some love their hobby till it flings them.--
  How many love a pretty wife
    For love of the _éclat_ she brings them!

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  Conscience, in most souls, is like an English
  Sovereign--it reigns, but it does not govern.
  Its function is merely to give a formal assent to
  the Bills passed by the passions; and it knows, if it
  opposes what those are really bent upon, that ten to one
  it will be obliged to abdicate.

        _Leslie_, in MALLOCK's _New Republic_.


  If you are pious (mild form of insanity),
  Bow down and worship the mass of humanity.
  Other religions are buried in mists;
  We're our own Gods, say the Positivists.

        MORTIMER COLLINS, _The British Birds_.


  We were sitting in the green-room one evening
  during the performance, chatting and laughing,
  she [Mrs. Nesbitt] having a book in her hand
  which she had to take on the stage with her in the next
  scene, when Brindal, a useful member of the company,
  but not particularly remarkable for wit or humour, came
  to the door, and, leaning against it, in a sentimental
  manner drawled out,--
    "If to her share some female errors fall,
     Look in her face----"

  He paused. She raised her beautiful eyes to him, and
  consciously smiled--_her_ smile--in anticipation of the
  well-known complimentary termination of the couplet,
  when, with a deep sigh, he added--
    "----and you'll _believe_ them all!"

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.


  _THE MAIDENS._

  Perhaps, O lovers, if we did our hair
  _A la_ Medea, and if our garments were
  Draped classically, we should seem more fair.


  _THE YOUTHS._

  By doing this ye would not us befool;
  Medea! the idea makes our blood run cool;
  Besides, of classics we'd enough at school.

        _Once a Week_.


  Pledge me round, I bid ye declare,
    All good fellows whose beards are grey,
  Did not the fairest of the fair
  Common grow and wearisome ere
    Ever a month was passed away?

  The reddest lips that ever have kissed,
    The brightest eyes that ever have shone,
  May pray and whisper, and we not list,
  Or look away, and never be missed,
    Ere yet ever a month is gone.

        W. M. THACKERAY.


  It was known that Lord St. Jerome gave at his
  ball suppers the same champagne that he gave
  at his dinners, and that was of the highest class:
  in short, a patriot. We talk with wondering execration
  of the great poisoners of past ages, the Borgias, the
  inventor of Aqua tofana, and the amiable Marchioness
  de Brinvilliers; but Pinto was of opinion that there
  were more social poisoners about in the present day than
  in the darkest and most demoralized periods, and then
  none of them are punished; which is so strange, he
  would add, as they are all found out.

        LORD BEACONSFIELD, _Lothair_.


  Seared is, of course, my heart:--but unsubdued
  Is, and shall be, my appetite for food.

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Verses and Translations_.


  Sheil had learnt and forgotten the exordium of a
  speech which began with the word "Necessity."
  This word he had repeated three times, when
  Sir Robert Peel broke in--"is not _always_ the mother of
  invention."

        ABRAHAM HAYWARD, _Essays_.


  _ON MR. FROUDE AND CANON KINGSLEY._

  Froude informs the Scottish youth
    Parsons have small regard for truth;
  The Reverend Canon Kingsley cries
    That History is a pack of lies.
  What cause for judgment so malign?
    A brief reflection solves the mystery:
  Froude believes Kingsley a divine,
    And Kingsley goes to Froude for history.

        ANON.


  Dined with Sydney Smith. He said that his brother
  Robert had, in King George III.'s time, translated
  the motto, "_Libertas sub rege pio_," "The
  pious king has got liberty under."

        R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.


  _Landlord_: He's only a genus.
  _Glavis_: A what?
  _Landlord_: A genus!--a man who can do everything
  in life except anything that's useful--that's a genus.

        LORD LYTTON, _The Lady of Lyons_.


  First love is a pretty romance,
    But not half so sweet as 'tis reckoned;
  And when one wakes from the trance,
    There's a vast stock of bliss in the second.

  And e'en should a second subside,
    A lover should never despair;
  The world is uncommonly wide,
    And the women uncommonly fair.

  The poets their raptures may tell,
    Who have never been put to the test;
  A first love is all very well,
    But, believe me, the last love's the best.

        MR. BERNAL.


  I've nothing to say again' her piety, my dear; but
  I know very well I shouldn't like her to cook
  my victual. When a man comes in hungry an'
  tired, piety won't feed him, I reckon. Hard carrots
  'ull lie heavy on his stomach, piety or no piety. It's
  right enough to be speritial--I'm no enemy to that; but
  I like my potatoes mealy.

        _Mrs. Linnet_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Janet's Repentance_.


  Somehow, sitting cosily here,
    I think of the sunny summertide hours,
  When the what-do-you-call-'em warbles clear,
    And the breezes blow--likewise the flowers.

        _Once a Week._


  A lawyer's brief will be brief, before a freethinker
  thinks freely.

        _Guesses at Truth._


  Juxtaposition, in fine; and what is juxtaposition?
  Look you, we travel along in the railway, carriage or steamer,
  And, _pour passer le temps_, till the tedious journey be ended,
  Lay aside paper or book, to talk to the girl who is next one;
  And, _pour passer le temps_, with the terminus all but in prospect,
  Talk of eternal ties and marriages made in heaven.

        _Claude_, in CLOUGH's _Amours de Voyage_.


  We measure the excellency of other men by some
  excellency we conceive to be in ourselves.

        SELDEN, _Table Talk_.


  Oh! spare those Gardens where the leafy glade
  Prompts the proposal dalliance delayed;
  Where tear-dewed lids, choked utterance, sobs suppressed,
  Tear the confession from a doubting breast;
  Whence they, who vainly haunted rout and ride,
  Emerge triumphant from a suitor's side.

        ALFRED AUSTIN, _The Season_.


  They have queer hotels in Oregon. I remember
  one where they gave me a bag of oats for a
  pillow. I had night mares, of course.

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  The man who would Charybdis shun
    Must make a cautious movement,
  Or else he'll into Scylla run--
    Which would be no improvement.
  The fish that left the frying-pan,
    On feeling that desire, sir,
  Took little by their change of plan,
    When floundering in the fire, sir.

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


  The flattery which is most pleasing to really beautiful
  or decidedly ugly women is that which is
  addressed to the intellect.

        LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Letters to his Son_.


  Johnson's folly--to be candid--was a wild desire to treat
  Every able male white citizen he met upon the street;
  And there being several thousand--but this subject why pursue?
  'Tis with Perkins, and not Johnson, that to-day we have to do.

        BRET HARTE, _Complete Works_.


  Good little girls ought not to make mouths at
  their teachers for every trifling offence. This
  kind of retaliation should only be resorted to
  under peculiarly aggravating circumstances.

  If you have nothing but a rag-doll stuffed with sawdust,
  while one of your more fortunate little playmates
  has a costly china one, you should treat her with a show
  of kindness nevertheless. And you ought not to attempt
  to make a forcible swap with her, unless your conscience
  would justify you in it, and you know you are able to
  do it.

  If your mother tells you to do a thing, it is wrong to
  reply that you won't. It is better and more becoming
  to intimate that you will do as she bids you, and then
  afterwards act quietly in the matter according to the
  dictates of your better judgment.

        MARK TWAIN, _Choice Works_.


  We count mankind, and keep our census still,
      We count the stars that populate the night;
  But who, with all his computation, can
      Con catty nations right?

        R. H. NEWELL, _Orpheus C. Kerr Papers_.


  I think it was Jekyll who used to say that "the
  further he went West, the more convinced he
  was that the wise men did come from the East."

        SYDNEY SMITH, _Life and Letters_.


  Ce qui nous empêche souvent de nous abandonner
  à un seul vice est que nous en avons plusieurs.

        LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions_.


  I have observed that if people's vanity is pleased,
  they live well enough together. Offended vanity
  is the great separator.

        _Ellesmere_, in HELPS's _Friends in Council_.


  _ON EDINBURGH._

  Pompous the boast, and yet a truth it speaks:
  A "Modern Athens"--fit for modern Greeks.

        JAMES HANNAY, _Sketches and Characters_.


  Lord Andover, a very fat man, was greatly
  plagued at a fancy bazaar to buy some trifle or
  other from the ladies' stalls. At length he rather
  rudely said, "I am like the Prodigal Son, persecuted by
  ladies." "No, no," retorted Mrs. ----, "say, rather, the
  fatted calf."

        B. R. HAYDON, _Diary_.


  A quiet conscience makes one so serene!
  Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded,
  That all the Apostles would have done as they did.

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


  "Were you born in wedlock?" asked a counsel of
  a witness. "No, sir, in Devonshire," was the
  reply.

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


  Evanson, in his "Dissonance of the Gospels,"
  thinks Luke is most worthy of credence. P----
  said that Evanson was a _luke_-warm Christian.

        CRABB ROBINSON, _Diary_.


  _ONE FOR HIM._

  Reading the paper Laura sat,
  "Greenwich _mean_ time, mamma, what's that?"
  "My love, it's when your stingy Pa
  Won't take us to the Trafalgàr."

        SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.


  I was once as desperately in love as you are now.
  I adored, and was rejected. "You are in love
  with certain attributes," said the lady. "Damn
  your attributes, madam," said I; "I know nothing of
  attributes." "Sir," she said, with dignity, "you have
  been drinking." So we parted. She was married afterwards
  to another, who knew something about attributes,
  I suppose. I have seen her once, and only once. She
  had a baby in a yellow gown. I hate a baby in a yellow
  gown!

        _Berkley_, in LONGFELLOW's _Hyperion_.


  A man has generally the good or ill qualities which
  he attributes to mankind.

        SHENSTONE, _Essays_.


  How doth the little crocodile
    Improve his shining tail,
  And pour the waters of the Nile
    On every shining scale!

  How cheerfully he seems to grin,
    How neatly spreads his claws,
  And welcomes little fishes in
    With gently smiling jaws!

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Alice in Wonderland_.


  _Apropos_ of cutlets, I once called upon an old
  lady, who pressed me so urgently to stay and
  dine with her that, as I had no engagement, I
  could not refuse. On sitting down, the servant uncovered
  a dish which contained two mutton chops; and
  my old friend said, "Mr. Hook, you see your dinner."
  "Thank you, ma'am," said I; "but where is yours?"

        THEODORE HOOK, _apud_ PLANCHÉ.


  In all distresses of our friends,
  We first consult our private ends;
  While nature, kindly bent to ease us,
  Points out some circumstance to please us.

        SWIFT, _Verses on his own Death_.


  On ne donne rien si libéralement que ses conseils.

        LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions._


  _A NUTSHELL NOVEL._

  FOR A MINIATURE MUDIE.

  VOL. I.

  A winning wile,
  A sunny smile,
        A feather:
  A tiny talk,
  A pleasant walk,
        Together!

  VOL. II.

  A little doubt,
  A playful pout,
        Capricious:
  A merry miss,
  A stolen kiss,
        Delicious!!

  VOL. III.

  You ask mamma,
  Consult papa,
        With pleasure:
  And both repent
  This rash event,
        At leisure!!!

        J. ASHBY STERRY, _Boudoir Ballads_.


  Woman consoles us, it is true, while we are young
  and handsome! When we are old and ugly,
  woman snubs and scolds us.

        LORD LYTTON, _What will he do with it?_


  La société est composée de deux grandes classes:
  ceux qui ont plus de dîners que d'appétit, et
  ceux qui ont plus d'appétit que de dîners.

        CHAMFORT, _Maximes_.


  Has she wedded some gigantic shrimper,
  That sweet mite with whom I loved to play?
  Is she girt with babes that whine and whimper,
  That bright being who was always gay?

  Yes--she has at least a dozen wee things!
  Yes--I see her darning corduroys,
  Scouring floors, and setting out the tea-things,
  For a howling herd of hungry boys.

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.


  "You may report to your Government that the
  British youth of the present day, hot from the
  University, are very often prigs."

  "Most certainly I will," said Mr. Wog; "the last
  word, however, is one with which I am not acquainted."

  "It is an old English term for profound thinker," I
  replied.

        L. OLIPHANT, _Piccadilly_.


  Woman takes the lead in all the departments,
  leaving us politics only. While we are being
  amused by the ballot, woman is quietly taking
  things into her own hands.

        C. D. WARNER, _My Summer in a Garden_.


  Would it were wind and wave alone!
  The terrors of the torrid zone,
  The indiscriminate cyclone,
                  A man might parry;
  But only faith, or "triple brass,"
  Can help the "outward-bound" to pass
  Safe through that eastward-faring class
                  Who sail to marry.

  For him fond mothers, stout and fair,
  Ascend the tortuous cabin stair
  Only to hold around his chair
                  Insidious sessions;
  For him the eyes of daughters droop
  Across the plate of handed soup,
  Suggesting seats upon the poop,
                  And soft confessions.

        AUSTIN DOBSON, _Vignettes in Rhyme_.


  It's poor work allays settin' the dead above the
  livin'. It 'ud be better if folks 'ud make much
  of us beforehand, isted o' beginnin' when we're
  gone.

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


  The authoress of the "Wild Irish Girl," Lady
  Morgan, justly proud of her gifted sister Olivia,
  was in the habit of addressing every new-comer
  with, "I must make you acquainted with my Livy." She
  once used this form of words to a gentleman who had
  just been worsted in an encounter of wits with the lady
  in question. "Yes, ma'am," was the reply; "I happen
  to know your _Livy_, and I would to Heaven your _Livy_
  was _Tacitus_."

        LORD ALBEMARLE, _Fifty Years of my Life._


  "Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed,"
    Observes some solemn, sentimental owl;
  Maxims like these are very cheaply said;
    But e'er you make yourself a fool or fowl,
  Pray just inquire about his rise and fall,
  And whether larks have any bed at all!

  The "time for honest folks to be in bed"
    Is in the morning, if I reason right;
  And he who cannot keep his precious head
    Upon its pillow till it's fairly light,
  And so enjoy his forty morning winks,
  Is up to knavery; or else--he drinks!

        JOHN GODFREY SAXE, _Poems._


  _A Popular Man._--One who is so boldly vulgar
  that the timidly vulgar admire him.

        ANNE EVANS, _Poems and Music._


  We can't for a certainty tell
    What mirth may molest us on Monday;
  But, at least, to begin the week well,
    Let us all be unhappy on Sunday.

  These gardens, their walks and green bowers,
    Might be free to the poor man for one day;
  But no, the glad plants and gay flowers
    Mustn't bloom or smell sweetly on Sunday.

  Abroad we forbid folks to roam
    For fear they get social or frisky;
  But of course they can sit still at home,
    And get dismally drunk upon whiskey.

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


  La haine des faibles n'est pas si dangereuse que
  leur amitié.

        VAUVENARGUES, _Réflexions_.


  To Matthew Arnold we must go to put us in the right, sir,
  About his elevating scheme of "sweetness" and of "light," sir,
  Which some folks say will one fine day achieve a marked ascendancy,
  Though "Providence" it waters down into a "stream of tendency."

        F. D., in _Pall Mall Gazette_.


  Chambermaids use up more hair-oil than any
  six men. If charged with purloining the same,
  they lie about it. What do they care about a
  hereafter? Absolutely nothing.

        MARK TWAIN, _Choice Works_.


  When sorely tempted to purloin
  Your _pietà_ of Marc Antoine,
  Fair virtue doth fair play enjoin,
            Fair Virtuoso!

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  No man can be wise on an empty stomach.

        _Bartle Massey_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam Bede_.


  All tragedies are finished by a death,
    All comedies are ended by a marriage;
  The future states of both are left to faith,
    For authors fear description might disparage
  The worlds to come of both, or fall beneath.

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


  The Bailli de Ferrette was always dressed in knee-breeches,
  with a cocked hat and sword, the
  slender proportions of which greatly resembled
  those of his legs. "Do tell me, my dear Bailli," said
  Montrond one day, "have you got three legs or three
  swords?"

        GRONOW, _Recollections_.


  A Mexican lady's hair never curls--it's as straight
  as an Indian's. Some people's hair won't curl
  under any circumstances. My hair won't curl
  under two shillings.

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  I've read the poets of our land,
    Who sing of beauty and of love,
  Who rave about a dimpled hand,
    And write sweet sonnets on a glove.
  But sweeter far than maiden's kiss,
    And fairer far than Jouvin's best,
  Is one red-labelled quart, I wis,
    With Bass's well-known mark imprest.

  And years may come, and years may go,
    And fortune change as fortune will,
  But may my Burton fountain flow,
    In shade and sunshine clearly still,
  And till life's night is closing grey,
    My heart shall ever hold most dear
  The liquor that I sing to-day--
    My childhood's friend! my Bass's beer!

        H. SAVILE CLARKE.


  Women are much more like each other than men;
  they have, in truth, but two passions: vanity and
  love: these are their universal characteristics.

        LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Letters to his Son_.


  "After all, are not women necessary to your
  happiness?"

  "Alas!" sighed Maximilian, "it is but too
  true. But women have unfortunately only one way of
  making us happy, whilst they have thirty thousand
  different modes of rendering us miserable."

        HEINRICH HEINE, _The Florentine Nights_.


  I love you! ay! it seems absurd,
    Altho' to prove it I was sedulous;
  The _ink_ is _black_ that writes the word,
    Yet you will read it all _inc-red_-ulous.
  Where was my sense, once so acute,
    To dream myself a hopeful suitor?
  I should have been much more _astute_;
    I came to you, you know, _as tutor_!
  My passion on an instant grew--
    (Spontaneous love is scarce a crime!).
  How swift those early minutes flew!
    And, _odd_ to say, 'twas _even_-time!
  Maddened with love, I penned a note,
    And placed it where 'twould catch your sight;
  Alas for me! but when I _wrote_,
  Of course I thought that I _did right_!

        ROBERT REECE, in _Comic Poets_.


  The most dreadful thing against women is the
  character of the men that praise them.

        LADY ASHBURTON, _apud_ LORD HOUGHTON.


  There's one Thomas Buckle, a London youth,
      Who taught that the world was blind
      Till he was born to proclaim the truth,
  That matter is moulder of mind;
    But I really can't fancy at all
      How wheat, rice, and barley,
      Made Dick, Tom, and Charlie
        So tidy and trim,
        Without help from Him
    Who was preached both by Plato and Paul.

        J. S. BLACKIE, _Musa Burschicosa_.


  Sheridan's answer to Lord Lauderdale was excellent,
  on the latter saying he would repeat
  some good thing I had mentioned to him:
  "Pray don't, my dear Lauderdale; a joke in your mouth
  is no laughing matter."

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  Do you know why the rabbits are caught in the snare,
    Or the tabby cat's shot on the tiles?
  Why the tigers and lions creep out of their lair?
    Why an ostrich will travel for miles?
  Do you know why a sane man will whimper and cry,
    And weep o'er a ribbon or glove?
  Why a cook will put sugar for salt in a pie?
    Do you know? Well, I'll tell you--it's Love.

        _Flapper_, in H. P. STEPHENS's _Billee Taylor_.


  I remember Curran once--in an action for
  breach of promise of marriage, in which he was
  counsel for the defendant, a young clergyman--thus
  appealing to the jury: "Gentlemen, I entreat of
  you not to ruin this young man by a vindictive verdict,
  for though he has talents, and is in the Church, he may
  rise!"

        PHILLIPS, _Life of Curran_.


  There are female women, and there are male
  women.

        CHARLES BUXTON, _Notes of Thought_.


  I own fair faces not more fair
  In Ettrick than in Portman Square,
  And silly danglers just as silly
  In Sherwood, as in Piccadilly.

        W. M. PRAED.


  I heard an anecdote at Oxford, of a porter encountering
  on his rounds two undergraduates,
  who were without their gowns, or out of bounds,
  or out of hours. He challenged one: "Your name and
  college?" They were given. Turning to the other: "And
  pray, sir, what might your name be?" "Julius Cæsar,"
  was the reply. "What, sir, do you mean to say your
  name is Julius Cæsar?" "Sir, you did not ask me what
  it is, but what it _might_ be."

        W. H. HARRISON, _Reminiscences_.


  I always can tell a
  Preoccupied man by his tumbled umbrella.

        _Lady Matilda_, in G. O. TREVELYAN's _Ladies in Parliament_.


  Talking of Doctor [Parr's] illegible manuscript,
  "Ay," said [Basil Montagu], "his letters are
  illegible, except they contain a commission or an
  announcement that he is coming to see you, and then no
  man can write plainer."

        MISS MITFORD, _Life and Letters_.


  I never nursed a dear gazelle;
    But I was given a parroquet--
  (How I did nurse him if unwell!)
    He's imbecile, but lingers yet.
  He's green, with an enchanting tuft;
    He melts me with his small black eye;
  He'd look inimitable stuff'd,
    And knows it--but he will not die!

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.


  Some reformer was clamouring for the expulsion
  of the Bishops from the House of Lords, but
  said he would not have them all go; he would
  leave two. "To keep up the breed, I suppose," said
  Alvanley.

        CHARLES GREVILLE, _Diary_.


  You women regard men just as you buy books--you
  never care about what is in them, but how
  they are bound and lettered.

        _Damas_, in LORD LYTTON's _Lady of Lyons_.


  _EPITAPH ON LORD L----._

  Here lies L.'s body, from his soul asunder:
  He once was on the turf, and now is _under_.

        SCROPE DAVIES, _apud_ MOORE.


  _A SUITABLE BRIDE._

  My friend Admiral E. E., shortly after his return
  from a cruise, met an old acquaintance in the
  streets of ----, who said, after the usual salutations
  had passed, "They telt me, Admiral, that ye had
  got married." The Admiral, hoping for a compliment,
  replied, "Why, Bailie, I am getting on; I'm not so young
  as I was, you see, and none of the girls will have me."
  On which the Bailie, with perfect good faith and simplicity,
  replied, "'Deed, Admiral, I was na evenin' yer to
  a lassie, but there's mony a fine, respeckit, _half-worn_
  wumman wad be glad to tak ye."

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _Patchwork_.


  _ON THE WORKS OF THE LAKE POETS._

  They come from the Lakes--an appropriate quarter
  For poems diluted with plenty of water.

        REV. HENRY TOWNSHEND.


          And I whispered, "I guess
            The sweet secret thou keepest,
          And the dainty distress
            That thou wistfully weepest;
  And the question is, 'Licence or banns?' though undoubtedly
    banns are the cheapest."

          Then her white hand I clasped,
            And with kisses I crowned it.
          But she glared and she gasped,
            And she muttered, "Confound it!"
  Or at least it was something like that, but the noise of
    the omnibus drowned it.

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Phantasmagoria_.


  It was Lady Cork who had originated the idea that,
  after all, heaven would perhaps turn out very
  dull to her _when she got there; sitting on damp
  clouds_, and _singing "God save the King,"_ being her idea
  of the principal amusements there.

        FANNY KEMBLE, _Record of a Girlhood_.


  _ON FEMININE TALKATIVENESS._

  How wisely Nature, ordering all below,
  Forbade a beard on woman's chin to grow!
  For how could she be shaved, whate'er the skill,
  Whose tongue would never let her chin be still?

        ANON.


  When Tennyson entered the Oxford Theatre to
  receive his honorary degree of D.C.L., his locks
  hanging in admired disorder on his shoulders,
  dishevelled and unkempt, a voice from the gallery was
  heard crying out to him, "Did your mother call you
  early, dear?"

        J. C. YOUNG, _Diary_.


  "Ha! ha!" he said, "you loathe your ways,
    You writhe at these my words of warning,
  In agony your hands you raise!"
    (And so they did, for they were yawning.)

  "Ho! ho!" he cries, "you bow your crests--
    My eloquence has set you weeping;
  In shame you bend upon your breasts!"
    (And so they did, for they were sleeping.)

        W. S. GILBERT, _Bab Ballads_.


  You may safely flatter any woman, from her understanding
  down to the exquisite taste of her fan.

        LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Letters to his Son_.


  _ON LADIES' ACCOMPLISHMENTS._

  Your dressing, dancing, gadding, where's the good in?
  Sweet lady, tell me--can you make a pudding?

        _Epigrams in Distich._


  Lord Braxfield, at whist, exclaimed to a lady
  with whom he was playing, "What are ye doing,
  ye damned auld ----?" and then, recollecting
  himself, "Your pardon's begged, madam; I took ye for
  my ain wife."

        LORD MACAULAY, _Life_.


  Then life was thornless to our ken,
  And, Bramble-Rise, thy hills were then
  A rise without a bramble.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  John Hamilton Reynolds was specially
  distinguished for the aptness of his quotations.
  Finding him one day lunching at the Garrick,
  I asked him if the beef he was eating was good. "It
  would have been," he answered, "if damned custom had
  not _brazed_ it so."

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.


  While spending an evening at [Mendelssohn's]
  house, a note, with a ticket enclosed, was put in
  my hands. The note ran thus: "The Directors
  of the Leipzig Concerts beg leave to present to Mr.
  _Shurely_ a ticket of the concert of to-morrow." Whereupon
  Mendelssohn ran to the pianoforte, and immediately
  began to play the subject from the chorus of the "Messiah,"
  "_Surely_ he hath borne," etc.

        H. F. CHORLEY, _Life_.


  Fhairshon had a son,
    Who married Noah's daughter,
  And nearly spoilt ta flood,
    By trinking up ta water:
  Which he would have done,
    I at least believe it,
  Had ta mixture peen
    Only half Glenlivet.

        _Bon Gaultier Ballads._


  After the execution of the eighteen malefactors
  [in 1787], a female was bawling an account of
  them, but called them nineteen. A gentleman
  said to her, "Why do you say nineteen? There were
  but eighteen hanged." She replied, "Sir, I did not know
  you had been reprieved."

        HORACE WALPOLE, _Correspondence_.


  _ON THE MARRIAGE OF JOB WALL AND MARY BEST._

  Job, wanting a partner, thought he'd be blest,
  If, of all womankind, he selected the Best;
  For, said he, of all evils that compass the globe,
  A bad wife would most try the patience of Job.
  The Best, then, he chose, and made bone of his bone,
  Though 'twas clear to his friends she'd be Best left alone;
  For, though Best of her sex, she's the weakest of all,
  If it's true that the weakest must go to the Wall.

        HICKS, _apud_ J. C. YOUNG.


  La vertu des femmes est peut-être une question du
  tempérament.

        BALZAC, _Physiologie du Mariage_.


  _ON ONE STEALING A POUND OF CANDLES._

  Light-fingered Catch, to keep his hands in ure,
  Stole anything,--of this you may be sure,
  That he thinks all his own that once he handles,--
  For practice' sake did steal a pound of candles;
  Was taken in the act:--oh, foolish wight!
  To steal such things as needs must come to light!

        _A Collection of Epigrams_ (1727).


  At Hook's, one day the conversation turned on the
  Duke of Cumberland, and a question asked who
  he married. "Don't you know?" said Cannon;
  "the Princess de _Psalms_ (Salms),--good enough for
  _Hymn_ (him)."

        W. JERDAN, _Memoirs_.


  For me, I neither know nor care
  Whether a parson ought to wear
    A black dress or a white dress;
  Fill'd with a trouble of my own--
  A wife who preaches in her gown,
    And lectures in her night-dress!

        THOMAS HOOD.


  Madame de ---- having said, in her intense
  style, "I should like to be married in _English_,
  in a language in which vows are so faithfully
  kept," some one asked Frere, "What language, I wonder,
  was _she_ married in?" "_Broken_ English, I suppose," answered
  Frere.

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  Your magpies and stock-doves may flirt among trees,
  And chatter their transports in groves, if they please;
  But a house is much more to my taste than a tree,
  And for groves, O! a good grove of chimneys for me.

        CHARLES MORRIS, _Lyra Urbanica_.


  Again they asked me to marry them, and again I
  declined, when they cried,--"Oh, cruel man!
  This is too much--too much!" I told them
  that it was on account of the muchness that I declined.

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  On one of the country gentlemen saying in Parliament,
  "We must return to the food of our ancestors,"
  somebody asked, "What food does he
  mean?" "Thistles, I suppose," said Tierney.

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  Maidens then were innocent,
  Blushing at a compliment,
                    Or a gaze.
  But a blush a vanish'd grace is,
  For young ladies paint their faces
                    Now-a-days,

  Black their eyelids till they stare,
  Wash with soda, till their hair
                    Looks like maize;
  'Tis the fashion to be blonde
  _À la mode du demi-monde_
                    Now-a-days.

        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
  by _tick, 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 flowers
    And plucks the sting from grief.
  I'd smile at poverty and pain;
    I'd welcome death with glee--
  If to the last I might retain
    My 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_, in GEORGE ELIOT's novel.


  Stuart Mill on Mind and Matter
    All our old Beliefs would scatter:
  Stuart Mill exerts his skill
    To 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_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam Bede_.


  I want you to come and pass sentence
    On two or three books with a plot;
  Of course you know "Janet's Repentance"?
    I'm reading Sir _Waverley_ Scott,
  The story of Edgar and Lucy,
    How thrilling, romantic, and true!
  The Master (his bride was a _goosey_!)
          Reminds me of you.

  They tell me Cockayne has been crowning
    A 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 charming
          A 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 absurd
              A view?
  Forever! what abysms of woe
    The word reveals, what frenzy, what
  Despair! For ever (printed so)
              Did not.
  And nevermore must printer do
    As men did longago; but run
  "For" into "ever," bidding two
              Be one.
  Forever! passion-fraught, it throws
    O'er the dim page a gloom, a glamour:
  It's sweet, it's strange, and I suppose
              It'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 because
  it is perpetually hurting our own.

        LORD LYTTON's _Pelham_.


  Then nymphs had bluer eyes than hose,
  England then measured men by blows,
    And measured time by candles.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  A woman's choice usually means taking the only
  man she can get.

        _Mrs. Cadwallader_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Middlemarch_.


  To charm the girls he never spoke--
    Although his voice was fine;
  He found the most convenient way
    Was just to drop a line.

  And many a gudgeon of the pond,
    If they could speak to-day,
  Would own, with grief, this angler had
    A mighty "taking" way.

        JOHN GODFREY SAXE, _Poems_.


  I am 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, have _our_ mediæval bents;
  Give us, for cricket matches, tournaments.


  _THE WIDOWERS._

  We are stout, nor will uncomfortably truss
  Our 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_, in G. O. TREVELYAN's _Horace 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!
  And _he_ is looking very glad, tho' I am feeling sadder,
  That _I'm_ not your companion-lad on that companion-ladder!

        J. ASHBY STERRY, in _English 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 man
    That ever wore a crown, sir;
  For though the whale did swallow him,
    It couldn't keep him down, sir."

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

        J. A. SIDEY, _Mistura Curiosa_.


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

        J. T. FIELDS, _Yesterdays with Authors_.


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

        ALFRED TENNYSON, _Sea Dreams_.


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

        LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Letters to his Son_.


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

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

        _The Shotover Papers._


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

        LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions_.


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

        ANDREW LANG, _Ballades in Blue China_.


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

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


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

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


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

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


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

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


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

        GRONOW, _Recollections_.


  _GOOD AND BAD LUCK._

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

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

        JOHN HAY, _Poems_.


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

        _Ellesmere_, in HELPS's _Friends in Council_.


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

        HEINRICH HEINE, _Musical Notes from Paris_.


  _ON WOMEN AS UNIONISTS._

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

        ANON.


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

        JEAN DE LINGENDES.


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

        SYDNEY SMITH, _Life and Letters_.


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

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

        LORD BEACONSFIELD, _Lothair_.


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

        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_, in LYTTON's _Eugene 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_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam Bede_.


  _SOUL OF LADY._

  Tell me, in this night of snow,
  Of happy Almack's, or the Row!
  Say in what carriages what fair
  Consume 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 know
  The fashions of the world below?
  Still the coiled chignon starward towers,
  Still false back-hair falls down in showers;
  But now all subtle souls revert
  To the abbreviated skirt,
  Whose velvet _paniers_ just denote
  The gown, that else were petticoat.
  Nor is such _naïve_ attire enough:
  Elizabeth's archaic ruff
  Rings every neck; besides, they rival,
  With a High-Gothic-Hat-Revival,
  Old Mother Hubbard, and renew
  Arcadianly 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 wish _this_ was Happy Japan?

        SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.


  I hope 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, _apud_ J. 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,
  That _I_ should 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, O_ doctor,--_Curaçoa!_"

        H. LUTTRELL, _apud_ BARHAM.


  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 liquors
    Must 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 Carpenter
    Were walking close at hand;
  They wept like anything to see
    Such quantities of sand:
  "If this were only cleared away,"
    They said, "It _would_ be 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 attach
  Whose 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 calms
  As 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, _apud_ LORD HOUGHTON.


  I'm not denyin' the women are foolish: God Almighty
  made 'em to match the men.

        _Mrs. Poyser_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam 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 my _forte_."
  "Oh fie! for shame! where do you think you'll go
  For 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_, in W. S. GILBERT's _Sorcerer_.


  _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 extravagant
    Upon 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 intense
    Unto her love-sick boy!
  With fitful glimmer burnt my flame,
    And I grew cold and coy,
  At last, one morning, I became
    Another'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_.


  I loiter 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 stars
    Have got me into messes;
  I've seen the sky through prison bars,
    I've torn up prison dresses.

  But out again I come, and show
    My 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_, in LORD LYTTON's _Lady 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 thinking
    How pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho!
    How pleasant it is to have money!

        _Spirit_, in A. H. CLOUGH's _Dipsychus_.


  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 man
    E'er hope for the smallest progression--
  The profession's already so full
    Of lawyers so full of profession?

        JOHN GODFREY SAXE, _Poems_.


  I was 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 bales
  Ne'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 what
    High 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 then
  Something 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._


  A clergyman 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_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam Bede_.


  Werther had a love for Charlotte
    Such 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 body
    Borne 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 be _quite_ sure 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. by J. 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.

        LAMB to WORDSWORTH.


  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 call
                    Their 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 time
  Is 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 comestibles
  From 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 art
  Of service--a maiden, his sweetheart;--
  Give me these, in some rural pavilion,
  And I'll envy no Rothschild his million.

        MORTIMER COLLINS, in _The 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's _Pelham_.


  _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, _apud_ LEIGH 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.

        _Phoebus_, in LORD BEACONSFIELD's _Lothair_.


  _RELIABLE._

  (A MILD PROTEST.)

  Shut up a party who uses "Reliable"
  When he means "Trustworthy;" 'tis undeniable
  That 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 to _le diable_.
  If his name's William, 'twould be most enj'yable
  To see Mr. Calcraft preparing to tie a Bill.
  Now let Punch hope he has stamped out "Reliable."

        SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.


  "I see," 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 know
    There'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_.


  O daughters! 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_.


  I have a horse--a ryghte good horse--
    Ne doe I envie those
  Who scour ye plaine in headie course,
    Tyll soddaine on theyre nose
  They 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 flat
  His innocent and all-unconscious hat.

        _2nd Lady_, in G. O. TREVELYAN's _Ladies in Parliament_.


  _ON A LEFT-HANDED WRITING-MASTER._

  Though Nature thee of thy right hand bereft,
  Right well thou writest with the hand that's left.

        FRANCIS FULLER, _apud_ NICHOLLS.


  We are never so much disposed to quarrel with
  others, as when we are dissatisfied with ourselves.

        W. HAZLITT, _Characteristics_.


  The cockney, met in Middlesex, or Surrey,
  Is often cold, and always in a hurry.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  Speaking one day of a newly risen sect of religionists
  who proscribed the use of animal food,
  the Archbishop [Whately] said to Dr. Wilson,
  "Do you know anything, Wilson, of this new sect?"
  "Yes, my Lord; I have seen their confession of faith,
  which is a book of cookery."

       E. J. WHATELY's _Life of Whately_.


  And I do think the amateur cornopean
  Should be put down by law--but that's perhaps Utopian.

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Verses and Translations_.


  Le premier soupir de l'amour est le dernier de la
  sagesse.

        CHARRON, _La Sagesse_.


  For he himself has said it,
  And it's greatly to his credit,
    That he is an Englishman!
  For he might have been a Roosian,
  A French, or Turk, or Proosian,
    Or perhaps Italian!
  But in spite of all temptations
  To belong to other nations,
    He remains an Englishman!

        W. S. GILBERT, _H.M.S. Pinafore_.


  Baron Alderson being asked by the chaplain
  of the High Sheriff at the assizes over which he
  was to preside, how long he would like him to
  preach, replied, "About half an hour, with a leaning to
  mercy."

        J. C. YOUNG, _Diary_.


  _ON EVENING DRESS._

  When dress'd for the evening, girls, nowadays,
   Scarce an atom of dress on them leave;
  Nor blame them--for what is an Evening Dress,
    But a dress that is suited to Eve?

        ANON.


  It's the silliest lie a sensible man like you ever
  believed, to say a woman makes a house comfortable.
  It's a story got up, because the women
  are there, and something must be found for 'em to do.
  I tell you there isn't a thing under the sun that needs to
  be done at all, but what a man can do better than a
  woman, unless it's bearing children, and they do that in
  a poor make-shift way. It had better ha' been left to
  the men.

        _Bartle Massey_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam Bede_.


  To sniggle or to dibble, that's the question!
  Whether to bait a hook with worm or bumble,
  Or to take up arms of any sea, some trouble
  To fish, and then home send 'em. To fly--to whip--
  To moor and tie my boat up by the end
  To any wooden post, or natural rock
  We may be near to, on a Preservation
  Devoutly to be fished. To fly--to whip--
  To whip! perchance two bream;--and there's the chub!

        F. C. BURNAND, _Happy Thoughts_.


  Anecdote of Phil Stone, the property-man of
  Drury Lane:--"Will you be so good, sir, as to
  stand a little backer?" said Phil to a gentleman
  behind the scenes, who had placed himself so forward as
  to be seen by the audience. "No, my fine fellow," returned
  the exquisite, who quite mistook his meaning;
  "but here is a pinch of snuff at your service."

        R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.


  At a friend's house Charles Lamb was presented
  with a cheese; it was a very ripe, not to say a
  lively cheese, and, as Lamb was leaving, his
  friend offered him a piece of paper in which to wrap it,
  so that he might convey it more conveniently. "Thank
  you," said Charles, "but would not several yards of
  twine be better, and then, you know, I could _lead_ it
  home?"

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _Patchwork_.


  "A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
   "Is what we chiefly need;
  Pepper and vinegar besides
    Are very good indeed--
  Now, if you're ready, Oysters dear,
    We can begin to feed."

  "But not on us," the Oysters cried,
    Turning a little blue.
  "After such kindness, that would be
    A dismal thing to do!"
  "The night is fine," the Walrus said;
    "Do you admire the view?"

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Through the Looking-Glass_.


  Religion is like the fashion. One man wears
  his doublet slashed, another laced, another plain;
  but every man has a doublet: so every man has
  his religion. We differ about the trimming.

        SELDEN, _Table Talk_.


  Romances paint at full length people's wooings,
   But only give a bust of marriages;
  For no one cares for matrimonial cooings,
    There's nothing wrong in a connubial kiss.

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


  A young lady decorously brought up should only
  have two considerations in her choice of a
  husband: first, is his birth honourable? secondly,
  will his death be advantageous? All other trifling details
  should be left to parental anxiety.

        _Madame Deschappelles_, in LORD LYTTON's _Lady of Lyons_.


  "The doctor's as drunk as the d----," we said,
    And we managed a shutter to borrow;
  We rais'd him, and sigh'd at the thought that his head
    Would consumedly ache on the morrow.

  We bore him home and we put him to bed,
    And we told his wife and his daughter
  To give him next morning a couple of red-
    Herrings with soda-water.

  Slowly and sadly we all walked down
    From his room in the uppermost story;
  A rush-light we placed on the cold hearth-stone,
    And left him alone in his glory.

        R. H. BARHAM, _Ingoldsby Lyrics_.


  Benjamin Franklin was always proud of
  telling how he entered Philadelphia, for the first
  time, with nothing in the world but two shillings
  in his pocket and four rolls of bread under his arm. But
  really, when you come to examine it critically, it was
  nothing. Anybody could have done it.

        MARK TWAIN, _Choice Works_.


  I've thought very often 'twould be a good thing
  In all public collections of books, if a wing
  Were set off by itself, like the seas from the dry lands,
  Marked "_Literature suited to desolate islands_",14113
  And filled with such books as could never be read
  Save by readers of proofs, forced to do it for bread,--
  Such books as one's wrecked on in small country taverns,
  Such as hermits might mortify over in caverns,
  Such as Satan, if printing had then been invented,
  As a climax of woe, would to Jove have presented,
  Such as Crusoe might dip in, although there are few so
  Outrageously cornered by fate as poor Crusoe.

        J. R. LOWELL, _A Fable for Critics_.


  _Bellmour._ Ah! courtship to marriage is but
  as the music in the play-house till the curtain's
  drawn; but that once up, then opens the scene
  of pleasure.
  _Belinda._ Oh, foh--no; rather, courtship to marriage
  is a very witty prologue to a very dull play.

        CONGREVE, _The Old Bachelor_.


  _ON HEARING A LADY PRAISE A CERTAIN
  REV. DOCTOR'S EYES._

  I cannot praise the Doctor's eyes;
   I never saw his glance divine;
  He always shuts them when he prays,
    And when he preaches he shuts mine.

        G. OUTRAM, _Lyrics: Legal, etc._


  This picture is a great work of art. It is an oil
  painting--done in petroleum. It is by the Old
  Masters. It was the last thing they did before
  dying. They did this and then they expired.

  Some of the greatest artists in London come here
  every morning before daylight with lanterns to look at it.
  They say they never saw anything like it before--and
  they hope they never shall again.

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  _THE WORLD._

  The world is like a rink, you know:
  You lose your _wheel_, and come to woe!

        J. ASHBY STERRY, in _English Epigrams_.


  Men will sooner forgive an injury than an insult.

        LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Letters to his Son_.


  Why is it that stupid people are always so much
  more anxious to talk to one, than clever people?

        CHARLES BUXTON, _Notes of Thought_.


  And Darwin, too, who leads the throng "in vulgum voces spargere,"
  Maintains Humanity is nought except a big menagerie,
  The progeny of tailless apes, sharp-eared but puggy-nosed, sir,
  Who nightly climbed their "family trees," and on the top reposed, sir.

  There's Carlyle, on the other hand, whose first and last concern it is
  To preach up the "immensities" and muse on the "eternities";
  But if one credits what one hears, the gist of all his brag is, sir,
  That "Erbwürst," rightly understood, is transcendental haggis, sir.

        F. D., in _Pall Mall Gazette_.


  _DUNSFORD._ Travelling is a great trial of people's
  inability to live together.
  _Ellesmere._ Yes. Lavater says that you do
  not know a man until you have divided an inheritance
  with him; but I think a long journey with him will do.

        ARTHUR HELPS, _Friends in Council_.

  _ON AN ALDERMAN._

  That he was born it cannot be denied;
  He ate, drank, slept, talk'd politics, and died.

        JOHN CUNNINGHAM (1729-1773).


  At a large dinner party at Jerdan's, one of the
  guests indulged in some wonderful accounts of
  his shooting. The number of birds he had
  killed, and the distances at which he had brought them
  down, were extraordinary. Hood quietly remarked,--
      "What he hit is history,
       What he missed is mystery."

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.


  I'm very fond of water:
    It ever must delight
  Each mother's son or daughter--
    When qualified aright.

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


  An epicure, while eating oysters, swallowed one that
  was not fresh. "Zounds, waiter!" he ejaculated,
  making a wry face; "what sort of an oyster do
  you call this?" "A native, sir," replied the wielder of the
  knife. "A native!--I call it a _settler_, so you need not
  open any more."

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


  Once Uncle went astray,
  Smoked, joked, and swore away--
  Sworn by he's now, by a
            Large congregation.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  You've heard what a lady in Italy did--
  How to vex a cross husband she buried a "kid!"
  Sam swears she'd have managed things better by half
  If, instead of the "kid," she had buried the calf!

        R. H. BARHAM, _Ingoldsby Lyrics_.


  Il est plus facile de légaliser certaines choses que
  de les légitimer.

        CHAMFORT, _Maximes_.


  Wilt thou love me, fairest?
    Though thou art not fair,
  And I think thou wearest
    Some one else's hair.
  Thou couldst love, though, dearly:
    And, as I am told,
  Thou art very nearly
    Worth thy weight, in gold.

  Dost thou love, sweet one?
    Tell me if thou dost!
  Women fairly beat one,
    But I think thou must.
  Thou art loved so dearly:
    I am plain, but then
  Thou (to speak sincerely)
    Art as plain again.

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.


  "Certainly, my Lord," said the attendant.
  "He knows me," thought Lothair; but it
  was not so. When the British nation is at
  once grateful and enthusiastic, they always call you "my
  Lord."

        LORD BEACONSFIELD's _Lothair_.


  _THE RECOGNITION._

  Home they brought her sailor son,
    Grown a man across the sea,
  Tall and broad and black of beard,
    And hoarse of voice as man may be.

  Hand to shake and mouth to kiss,
    Both he offered ere he spoke;
  And she said--"What man is this
    Comes to play a sorry joke?"

  Then they praised him--call'd him "smart,"
    "Tightest lad that ever stept;"
  But her son she did not know,
    And she neither smiled nor wept.

  Rose, a nurse of ninety years,
    Set a pigeon-pie in sight;
  She saw him eat--"'Tis he! 'tis he!"
    She knew him--by his appetite!

        WILLAM SAWYER.


  Lord Allen, being rather the worse for drinking
  too much wine at dinner, teased Count D'Orsay,
  and said some very disagreeable things, which
  irritated him; when suddenly John Bush entered the
  club and shook hands with the Count, who exclaimed,
  "Voilà, la différence entre une bonne _bouche_ et une mauvaise
  _haleine_."

        GRONOW, _Recollections_.


  _ANOTHER WAY._

  When lovely woman, Lump of Folly,
    Would show the world her vainest trait;
  Would treat herself as child her dolly,
    And warn each man of sense away;
  The surest method she'll discover
    To prompt a wink from every eye,
  Degrade a spouse, disgust a lover,
    And spoil a scalp-skin, is--to dye.

        SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.


  The bean is a graceful, confiding, engaging vine;
  but you can never put beans into poetry, nor
  into the highest sort of prose. Corn is the child
  of song. It waves in all literature. But mix it with
  beans, and its high tone is gone. The bean is a vulgar
  vegetable, without culture, or any flavour of high society
  among vegetables.

        C. D. WARNER, _My Summer in a Garden_.


  Then Abner Dean of Angel's raised a point of order, when
  A church of old red sandstone took him in the abdomen,
  And he smiled a kind of sickly smile, and curled up on the floor,
  And the subsequent proceedings interested him no more.

        BRET HARTE, _Complete Works_.


  "I was born, Signora, on New Year's Night,
  1800." "Did I not tell you," said the Marquis,
  "that he is one of the first men of our century?"

        HEINRICH HEINE, _Travel Pictures_.


  When dinner has opprest one,
  I think it is perhaps the gloomiest hour
  Which turns up out of the sad twenty-four.

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


  As a boy, George Washington gave no promise of
  the greatness he was one day to achieve. He
  was ignorant of the commonest accomplishments
  of youth. He could not even lie. But then he
  never had any of those precious advantages which are
  within the reach of the humblest of the boys of the
  present day. Any boy can lie now. I could lie before
  I could stand.

        MARK TWAIN, _Choice Works_.


  By the way, Shakespeare endorses polygamy. He
  speaks of the Merry Wives of Windsor. How
  many wives did Mr. Windsor have?

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  I dare say she's like the rest o' the women--
  thinks two and two'll come to make five, if she
  cries and bothers enough about it.

        _Bartle Massey_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam Bede_.


  Don't you see a hint of marriage
    In his sober-sided face,
  In his rather careless carriage
    And extremely rapid pace?

  If he's not committed treason,
    Or some wicked action done,
  Can you see the faintest reason
    Why a bachelor should run?

  Why should he be in a flurry?
    But a loving wife to greet,
  Is a circumstance to hurry
    The most dignified of feet!

        JOHN GODFREY SAXE, _Poems_.


  Mr. Luttrell once said to me, "Sir, the man
  who says he does not like a good dinner, is
  either a fool or a liar."

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.


  _TO PHOEBE._

  "Gentle, modest little flower,
    Sweet epitome of May,
  Love me but for half an hour,
    Love me, love me, little fay."
  Sentences so swiftly flaming
    In your tiny shell-like ear,
  I should always be exclaiming
    If I loved you, Phoebe dear:

  "Smiles that thrill from any distance
    Shed upon me while I sing!
  Please ecstaticize existence,
    Love me, oh thou, fairy thing!"
  Words like these outpouring sadly
    You'd perpetually hear,
  If I loved you fondly, madly;--
    But I do not, Phoebe dear.

        W. S. GILBERT, _Bab Ballads_.


  On one occasion, when Power the actor was
  present, Hood was asked to propose his health.
  After enumerating the various talents that popular
  comedian possessed, he requested the company to
  observe that such a combination was a remarkable
  illustration of the old proverb, "It never rains but it
  _powers_."

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.


  I dreamed that somebody was dead. It was a
  private gentleman, and a particular friend; and
  I was greatly overcome when the news was
  broken to me (very delicately) by a gentleman in a
  cocked hat, top boots, and a sheet. Nothing else.
  "Good God!" I said, "is he dead?" "He is as dead,
  sir," rejoined the gentleman, "as a door nail. But we
  must all die, Mr. Dickens, sooner or later, my dear sir."
  "Ah!" I said; "yes, to be sure. Very true. But
  what did he die of?" The gentleman burst into a flood
  of tears, and said, in a voice broken by emotion, "He
  christened his youngest child, sir, with a toasting fork!"

        CHARLES DICKENS, _apud_ J. T. FIELDS.


  I suppose all phrases of mere compliment have
  their turn to be true. A man is occasionally
  thankful when he says "thank you."

        _Stephen Guest_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Mill on the Floss_.


  _ON ATALANTA._

  When the young Greek for Atalanta sigh'd,
  He might have fool'd and follow'd till he died!
  He learn'd the sex, the bribe before her roll'd,
  And found, the short way to the heart, is--Gold.

        GEORGE CROLY (1780-1860).


  _De mortuis nil nisi bene_: of the living speak nothing
  but evil.

        HEINRICH HEINE, _Thoughts and Fancies_.


  I once met a man who had forgiven an injury.
  I hope some day to meet the man who has forgiven
  an insult.

        CHARLES BUXTON, _Notes of Thought_.


  Walk in the Park--you'll seldom fail
  To find a Sybaris on the rail
          By Lydia's ponies,
  Or hap on Barrus, wigged, and stayed,
  Ogling some unsuspecting maid.

  The great Gargilius, then, behold!
  His "long-bow" hunting tales of old
          Are now but duller;
  Fair Neobule too! Is not
  One Hebrus here--from Aldershot?
          Aha, you colour!
  Be wise. There old Canidia sits;
  No doubt she's tearing you to bits.

  Here's Pyrrha, "golden-haired" at will;
  Prig Damasippus, preaching still;
          Asterie flirting,--
  Radiant, of course. We'll make her black,--
  Ask her when Gyges' ship comes back.

        AUSTIN DOBSON, _Vignettes in Rhyme_.


  La reconnaissance de la plupart des hommes n'est
  qu'une secrète envie de recevoir de plus grands
  bienfaits.

        LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions_.


  The surest way to make ourselves agreeable to
  others is by seeming to think them so.

        W. HAZLITT, _Characteristics_.


  _SELF-EVIDENT._

  When other lips and other eyes
    Their tales of love shall tell,
  Which means the usual sort of lies
    You've heard from many a swell;
  When, bored with what you feel is bosh,
    You'd give the world to see
  A friend whose love you know will wash,
    Oh, then remember me!

  When Signor Solo goes his tours,
    And Captain Craft's at Ryde,
  And Lord Fitzpop is on the moors,
    And Lord knows who beside;
  When to exist you feel a task
    Without a friend at tea,
  At such a moment I but ask
    That you'll remember me.

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Songs and Poems_.


  When a man is called stingy, it is as much as calling
  him rich; and when a man's called rich, why
  he's a man universally respected.

        _Sir John Vesey_, in LORD LYTTON's _Money_.


  Cursed be the Bank of England notes, that tempt the soul to sin!
  Cursed be the want of acres,--doubly cursed the want of tin!

  Cursed be the marriage-contract, that enslaved thy soul to greed!
  Cursed be the sallow lawyer, that prepared and drew the deed!

  Cursed be his foul apprentice, who the loathsome fees did earn!
  Cursed be the clerk and parson--cursed be the whole concern!

        _Bon Gaultier Ballads._


  Never hold anybody by the button, or the hand,
  in order to be heard out; for, if people are not
  willing to hear you, you had much better hold
  your tongue than them.

        LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Letters to his Son_.


  I have learned to love Lucy, though faded she be;
  If my next love be lovely, the better for me;
  By the end of next summer, I'll give you my oath,
  It was best, after all, to have flirted with both.

        CHARLES GODFREY LELAND.


  General Ornano, observing a certain nobleman--who,
  by some misfortune in his youth,
  lost the use of his legs--in a Bath chair, which
  he wheeled about, and inquiring the name of the
  English peer, D'Orsay answered, "Père la Chaise."

        GRONOW, _Recollections_.


  Poet-professor! Now my brain thou kindlest:
  I am become a most determined Tyndallist.
    If it is known a fellow can make skies,
      Why not make bright blue eyes?

  This to deny the folly of a dunce it is:
  Surely a girl as easy as a sunset is?
    If you can make a halo or eclipse,
      Why not two laughing lips?

  Why should an author scribble rhymes or articles?
  Bring me a dozen tiny Tyndall-particles:
    Therefrom I'll coin a dinner, Nash's wine,
      And a nice girl to dine.

        MORTIMER COLLINS, _The British Birds_.


  They now speak of the peculiar difficulties and
  restrictions of the Episcopal Office. I only
  read in Scripture of two inhibitions--boxing and
  polygamy.

        SYDNEY SMITH, _apud_ LORD HOUGHTON.


  _ON AN OFFERING MADE BY KING JAMES I. AT
  A GRAVE COMEDY CALLED "THE MARRIAGE
  OF ARTS."_

  At Christ Church "Marriage," play'd before the King,
  Lest these learn'd mates should want an offering,
  The King himself did offer--what, I pray?
  He offer'd, once or twice--to go away.

        _A Collection of Epigrams_ (1727).


  ---- has only two ideas, and they are his legs, and
  they are spindle-shanked.

        LADY ASHBURTON, _apud_ LORD HOUGHTON.


  Dry as Compton's fun,
    Dry as author's pocket;
  Bright as that loved one
    Whose face adorns my locket;
  At the beaker's brim
    Beading brittle bubbles,
  Sea in which to swim,
    And cast away all troubles;
  Sea where sorrow sinks,
    Ne'er to rise again--oh,
  Blessedest of drinks,
      Welcome, "Pommery Gréno!"

        EDMUND YATES.


  _ON CLOSE-FIST'S SUBSCRIPTION._

  The charity of Close-Fist, give to fame:--
  He has at last subscrib'd--how much?--his name.

        ANON.


  The late Bishop of Exeter and Baron Alderson
  were sitting next each other at a public dinner.
  After the usual toasts had been drunk, the
  health of "The Navy" was proposed. Lord Campbell,
  expecting to have to return thanks for "The Bar,"
  and not having heard the toast distinctly, got up. On
  which the late bishop whispered to Baron Alderson,
  "What is Campbell about? What is he returning thanks
  for the Navy for?" "Oh," answered the witty judge,
  "he has made a mistake. He thinks the word is
  spelt with a K."

        J. C. YOUNG, _Diary_.


  Song-birds darted about, some inky
    As coal, some snowy (I ween) as curds;
  Or rosy as pinks, or as roses pinky--
    They reck of no eerie To-come, these birds!

  But they skim over bents which the mill-stream washes,
    Or hang in the lift 'neath a white cloud's hem;
  They need no parasols, no goloshes;
    And good Mrs. Trimmer she feedeth them.

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.


  The man who's fond precociously of stirring
  Must be a spoon.

        THOMAS HOOD.


  _ON ONE PETER AND HIS WIFE._

  Outrageous hourly with his wife was Peter;
  Some do aver he has been known to beat her.
  "She seems unhappy," said a friend one day;
  Peter turn'd sharply: "What is that you say?
  Her temper you have there misunderstood:
  She dares not be unhappy if she would."

        WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.


  A man who puts a non-natural strained sense on a
  promise is no better than a robber.

        _Rev. A. Debarry_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Felix Holt_.


  _DISTICH._

  What is a first love worth except to prepare for a second?
  What does the second love bring? Only regret for the first.

        JOHN HAY, _Poems_.


  In [Lady Charlotte Lindsay's] later days, when once
  complimented on looking very well, she replied,
  "I dare say it's true--the bloom of ugliness is
  past."

        LORD HOUGHTON, _Monographs_.


  _IN VIRTUTEM._

  Virtue we praise, yet practise not her good.
    (Athenian-like) we act not what we know.
  So many men do talk of Robin Hood
    Who never yet shot arrow from his bow.

        THOMAS FREEMAN (_circa_ 1591-1614).


  Scandal--what one half the world takes a
  pleasure in inventing, and the other half in
  believing.

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


  _All's for the best_, indeed
  Such is My simple creed;
  Still I must go and weed
            Hard in my garden.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  Where's the use of talking to a woman with
  babbies? She's got no conscience--no conscience--it's
  all run to milk.

        _Bartle Massey_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam Bede_.


  Together must we seek
  That undiscovered country, from whose bourn
  No uncommercial travellers return.

        _Brutus_, in G. O. TREVELYAN's _Horace at Athens_.


  The Mormon's religion is singular, and his wives
  are plural.

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


                At morning's call
  The small-voiced pug-dog welcomes in the sun,
  And flea-bit mongrels, wakening one by one,
                Give answer all.

                When evening dim
  Draws round us, then the lovely caterwaul,
  Tart solo, sour duet, and general squall,
                These are our hymn.

        OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.


  Charles Lamb was sitting next some chattering
  woman at dinner. Observing he didn't attend
  to her, "You don't seem," said the lady, "to be
  at all the better for what I have been saying to you."
  "No, ma'am," he answered, "but this gentleman on the
  other side of me must, for it all came in at one ear and
  went out at the other."

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  Forty times over let Michaelmas pass,
    Grizzling hair the brain doth clear--
  Then you know a boy is an ass,
  Then you know the worth of a lass,
    Once you have come to Forty Year.

        W. M. THACKERAY.


  Men are not troubled to hear a man dispraised,
  because they know, though he be naught,
  there's worth in others. But women are mightily
  troubled to hear any one of them spoken against, as if
  the sex itself were guilty of some untrustworthiness.

        SELDEN, _Table Talk_.


  _'TWAS EVER THUS._

  I never rear'd a young gazelle,
    (Because, you see, I never tried);
  But, had it known and loved me well,
    No doubt the creature would have died.
  My rich and aged uncle John
    Has known me long and loves me well,
  But still persists in living on--
    I would he were a young gazelle.

  I never loved a tree or flower;
    But, if I _had_, I beg to say
  The blight, the wind, the sun, or shower,
    Would soon have wither'd it away.
  I've dearly loved my uncle John,
    From childhood till the present hour,
  And yet he will go living on,--
    I would he were a tree or flower!

        H. S. LEIGH, _Carols of Cockayne_.


  A domestic woman.--A woman like a
  domestic.

        ANNE EVANS, _Poems and Music_.


  "The time has come," the Walrus said,
    "To talk of many things;
  Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
    Of cabbages--and kings--
  And why the sea is boiling hot--
    And whether pigs have wings."

  "But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
    "Before we have our chat;
  For some of us are out of breath,
    And all of us are fat!"
  "No hurry!" said the Carpenter:
    They thanked him much for that.

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Through the Looking-Glass_.


  Ignorance is not so damnable as humbug, but
  when it prescribes pills it may happen to do
  more harm.

        _Felix Holt_, in GEORGE ELIOT's novel.


  I push aside the blinding books;
    The reverend pages seem to wink;
  Each _letter_ like a _dozen_ looks,
    Which _doesn't let a_ student think.
  Within my ears I hear a "thrum;"
    Before my eyes there floats a haze;
  And mocking shadows flit and come,
    And make my _nights_ a constant _daze_!

        ROBERT REECE, in _Comic Poets_.


  Orthodoxy is at a low ebb. Only two clergymen
  accepted my offer to come and help hoe
  my potatoes for the privilege of using my
  vegetable total-depravity figure about the snake-grass,
  or quash-grass, as some call it; and these two did not
  bring hoes. There seems to be a lack of disposition to
  hoe among our educated clergy.

        C. D. WARNER, _My Summer in a Garden_.


  _HOME THEY BROUGHT._

  Home they brought her lap-dog dead,
    Just run over by a fly;
  Jeames to Buttons, winking, said,
    "Won't there be a row? oh my!"

  Then they called the flyman low,
    Said his baseness could be proved,
  How she to the Beak should go,--
    Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

  Said her maid (and risked her place)
    "In the 'ouse it should have kept,
  Flymen drives at such a pace"--
    Still the lady's anger slept.

  Rose her husband, best of dears,
    Laid a bracelet on her knee,
  Like a playful child she boxed his ears,--
    "Sweet old pet!--let's have some tea!"

        SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.


  _ON BLESSED IGNORANCE._

  He is most happy, sure, that knoweth nought,
  Because he knows not that he knoweth not.

        ROBERT HEATH (_circa_ 1585-1607).


  Alone amid the festive throng
    One infant brow is sad!
  One cherub face is wet with grief,--
    What ails you, little lad?

  Why still with scarifying sleeve
    That woful visage scrub?
  Ah, much I fear, my gentle boy,
    You don't enjoy your grub.

  Here, on a sympathetic heart,
    Your tale of suffering pour.
  Come, darling! Tell me all. "_Boo--boo--
    I can't eat any more!_"

        H. CHOLMONDELEY PENNELL, _Puck on Pegasus_.


  Never take a sheet-bath--never. Next to meeting
  a lady acquaintance who, for reasons best known
  to herself, don't see you when she looks at you,
  and don't know you when she sees you, it is about the
  most uncomfortable thing in the world.

        MARK TWAIN, _Choice Works_.


  The critic's lot is passing hard--
    Between ourselves, I think reviewers,
  When call'd to truss a crowing bard,
    Should not be sparing of the skewers.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  To-morrow the critics will commence. You
  know who the critics are? The men who have
  failed in literature and art.

        _Phoebus_, in LORD BEACONSFIELD's _Lothair_.


  That climax of all human ills--
  The inflammation of his weekly bills.

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


  On n'a guère de défauts qui ne soient plus pardonnables
  que les moyens dont on se sert pour les
  cacher.

        LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions_.


  Meeting a friend one day, when the weather had
  taken a most sudden and unaccountable turn
  from cold to warmth, the subject was mooted
  as usual, and characterized by the gentleman as being
  "most extraordinary." "Yes," replied [Compton], "it
  is a most unheard of thing; we've jumped from winter
  into summer without a spring."

        _Memoir of Henry Compton._


  "Pray what is this Permissive Bill,
    That some folks rave about?
  I can't with all my pains and skill,
    Its meaning quite make out?"
  O! it's a little simple Bill,
    That seeks to pass _incog._,
  To _permit_ ME--to _prevent_ YOU--
    From having a glass of grog.

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


  Quelque mal qu'un homme puisse penser des
  femmes, il n'y a pas de femme qui n'en pense
  encore plus mal que lui.

        CHAMFORT, _Maximes_.


  With thy fogs, all so thick and so yellow,
    The most approved tint for _ennui_,
  Oh, when shall a man see thy fellow,
    November, for _felo-de-se_?

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Songs and Poems_.


  "Life," continued Mr. Rose, "is a series of
  moments and emotions."
  "And a series of absurdities, too, very
  often," said Dr. Jenkinson.
  "Life is a solemn mystery," said Mr. Stocks, severely.
  "Life is a damned nuisance," muttered Leslie to himself.

        W. H. MALLOCK, _The New Republic_.


  The world's an ugly world. Offend
    Good people, how they wrangle!
  Their manners that they never mend,--
    The characters they mangle!
  They eat, and drink, and scheme, and plod,--
    They go to church on Sunday;
  And many are afraid of God--
    And more of _Mrs. Grundy_.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  I went away the first, in order to give the men an
  opportunity of abusing me; for whenever the
  men abuse, the women, to support alike their
  coquetry and the conversation, think themselves called
  upon to defend.

        _Pelham_, in LORD LYTTON's novel.


  There's one John Bright, a Manchester man,
    Who taught the Tories to rule,
  By setting their stamp on his patent plan
    For renewing the youth of John Bull;
        But I say that it won't do at all.
            To seek for salvation
            By mere numeration
            Of polls would surprise,
            If they were to rise,
        Not a little both Plato and Paul.

        J. S. BLACKIE, _Musa Burschicosa_.


  Une femme vertueuse a dans le coeur une fibre du
  moins ou de plus que les autres femmes; elle est
  stupide ou sublime.

        BALZAC, _Physiologie du Mariage_.


  _ON SCOTCH WEATHER._

  Scotland! thy weather's like a modish wife;
  Thy winds and rains for ever are at strife;
  Like thee the termagants their blustering try,
  And, when they can no longer scold, they cry.

        AARON HILL (1685-1750).


  Went with Lamb to Richman's. Richman produced
  one of Chatterton's forgeries. In one
  manuscript there were seventeen different kinds
  of e's. "Oh," said Lamb, "that must have been written
  by one of the--
      'Mob of gentlemen who write with _ease_.'"

        CRABB ROBINSON, _Diary_.


  _SCIRE TUUM NIHIL FIT._

  To have a thing is little, if you're not allowed to show it,
  And to know a thing is nothing, unless others know you know it.

        LORD NEAVES.


  You're at an evening party, with
    A group of pleasant folks,--
  You venture quietly to crack
    The least of little jokes,--
  A lady doesn't catch the point,
    And begs you to explain,--
  Alas! for one who drops a jest
    And takes it up again!

  You drop a pretty _jeu-de-mot_
    Into a neighbour's ears,
  Who likes to give you credit for
    The clever things he hears;
  And so he hawks your jest about,
    The old, authentic one,
  Just breaking off the point of it,
    And leaving out the pun!

        JOHN GODFREY SAXE, _Poems_.


  [Montrond's] death was a very wretched one.
  Left alone to the tender mercies of a well-known
  "lorette" of those days, Desirée R----,
  as he lay upon his bed, between fits of pain and drowsiness,
  he could see his fair friend picking from his shelves
  the choicest specimens of his old Sèvres china, or other
  articles of _vertu_. Turning to his doctor, he said, with a
  gleam of his old fun, "Qu'elle est attachante, cette
  femme-là!"

        GRONOW, _Recollections_.


  We love thee, Ann Maria Smith,
    And in thy condescension
  We see a future full of joys
    Too numerous to mention.

  There's Cupid's arrow in thy glance,
    That by thy love's coercion
  Has reached our melting heart of hearts,
    And asked for one insertion.

  There's music in thy honest tone,
    And silver in thy laughter;
  And truth--but we will give the full
    Particulars hereafter.

        R. H. NEWELL, _Orpheus C. Kerr Papers_.


  "Of course you know the three reasons which take
  men into society in London?" I said, after a
  pause.

  "No, I don't. What are they?"

  "Either to find a wife, or to look after one's wife, or
  to look after somebody else's."

        L. OLIPHANT, _Piccadilly_.


  _ON ONE WHO HAD A LARGE NOSE AND SQUINTED._

  The reason why Doctor Dash squints, I suppose,
  Is because his two eyes are afraid of his nose.

        ANON., in MOORE's _Diary_.


  Never attack whole bodies of any kind. Individuals
  forgive sometimes; but bodies and
  societies never do.

        LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Letters to his Son_.


  _ON THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES._

  Sturdy Tom Paine, biographers relate,
  Once with his friends engaged in warm debate.
  Said they, "Minorities are always right;"
  Said he, "The truth is just the opposite."
  Finding them stubborn, "Frankly, now," said he,
  "In this opinion do ye all agree;
  All, every one, without exception?" When
  They thus affirmed unanimously, "Then,
  Correct," said he, "my sentiment must be,
  For I myself am the minority."

        R. GARNETT, _Idylls and Epigrams_.


  The Indians on the Overland Route live on route
  and herbs. They are an intemperate people.
  They drink with impunity, or anybody who
  invites them.

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  _ON ONE WEARING FALSE HAIR._

  They say that thou dost tinge (O monstrous lie!)
  The hair that thou so raven-black dost buy.

        LUCILIUS, trans. by R. GARNETT.


  A nation does wisely if not well, in starving her
  men of genius. Fatten them, and they are done
  for.

        CHARLES BUXTON, _Notes of Thought_.


  When the enterprising burglar's not a-burgling,
    When the cut-throat isn't occupied with crime
  He loves to hear the little brook a-gurgling,
    And listen to the merry village chime.
  When the coster's finished jumping on his mother,
    He loves to lie a-basking in the sun--
  Oh! take one consideration with another,
    The policeman's lot is not a happy one!

        W. S. GILBERT, _Pirates of Penzance_.


  The young girl said: "The gentleman must be very
  rich, for he is very ugly." The public judges in
  a similar manner: "The man must be very
  learned, for he is very tiresome."

        HEINRICH HEINE, _Thoughts and Fancies_.


  And he chirped and sang, and skipped about, and
    laughed with laughter hearty,
  He was so wonderfully active for so very stout
    a party.

  And I said, "O gentle pie-man, why so very, very merry?
  Is it purity of conscience, or your one-and-seven sherry?"

        W. S. GILBERT, _Bab Ballads_.


  Speculation--a word that sometimes begins
  with its second letter.

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


  He remembers the ball at the Ferry,
   And the ride, and the gate, and the vow,
  And the rose that you gave him--that very
    Same rose he is treasuring now
  (Which his blanket he's kicked on his trunk, Miss,
    And insists on his legs being free;
  And his language to me from his bunk, Miss,
    Is frequent and painful and free).

        BRET HARTE, _Complete Works_.


  Nous ne trouvons guère de gens de bons sens que
  ceux qui sont de notre avis.

        LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions_.


  _FRENCH AND ENGLISH._

  The French excel us very much in millinery;
  They also bear the bell in matters culinary.
  The reason's plain: French beauty and French meat
  With English cannot of themselves compete.
  Thus, an inferior article possessing,
  Our neighbours help it by superior dressing;
  They dress their dishes, and they dress their dames,
  Till Art, almost, can rival Nature's claims.

        LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.


  Priority is a poor recommendation in a husband
  if he has got no other.

        _Mrs. Cadwallader_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Middlemarch_.


  If spirits you would lighten
  Consult good Doctor Brighton,
      And swallow his prescriptions and abide by his decree:
  If nerves be weak or shaken
  Just try a week with Bacon,
  His physic soon is taken--
      At our London-by-the-Sea.

        J. ASHBY STERRY, _Boudoir Ballads_.


  The then Duke of Cumberland (the foolish Duke,
  as he was called) came one night into Foote's
  green-room at the Haymarket Theatre. "Well,
  Foote," said he, "here I am, ready, as usual, to swallow
  your good things." "Upon my soul," replied Foote,
  "your Royal Highness must have an excellent digestion,
  for you never bring any up again."

        ROGERS, _Table Talk_.


  There's folks born to property, and there's folks
  catch hold on it; and the law's made for them
  as catch hold.

       _Tommy Trounsem_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Felix Holt_.


  Examining one of the Sunday school boys at
  Addington, I asked him what a prophet was.
  He did not know. "If I were to tell you what
  would happen to you this day twelve month, and it should
  come to pass, what would you call me then, my little
  man?" "A fortune-teller, sir."

        R. H. BARHAM, _Diary_.


  Some take a lover, some take drams or prayers;
  Some play the devil, and then write a novel.

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


  Being one day at Trinity College, at dinner,
  [Donne] was asked to write a motto for the
  College snuff-box, which was always circulating
  on the dinner-table. "Considering where we are," said
  Donne, "there could be nothing better than 'Quicunque
  vult.'"

        CRABB ROBINSON, _Diary_.


  Critics tell me, soon
  There'll be no singing in a song,
    No melody in tune.
  But birds will warble in the trees,
    Nor for the critics care;
  And in the murmur of the breeze
    We yet may find some air.

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Songs and Poems_.


  Mr. Bentley proposed to establish a periodical
  publication, to be called "The Wits' Miscellany."
  [James] Smith objected that the title promised
  too much. Shortly afterwards the publisher came to
  tell him he had profited by the hint, and resolved to call
  it "Bentley's Miscellany." "Isn't that going a little too
  far the other way?" was the remark.

        ABRAHAM HAYWARD, _Essays_.


  Break, break, break!
    My cups and saucers, O scout;
  And I'm glad that my tongue can't utter
    The oaths that my soul points out.

  It is well for the china-shop man
    Who gets a fresh order each day;
  And it's deucedly well for yourself,
    Who are in the said china-man's pay.

  And my stately vases go
    To your uncle's, I ween, to be cashed;
  And it's oh for the light of my broken lamp,
    And the tick of my clock that is smashed.

  Break, break, break!
    At the foot of my stairs in glee;
  But the coin I have spent in glass that is cracked
    Will never come back to me.

        _The Shotover Papers._


  Croly said very smart things, and with surprising
  readiness. I was at his table one day when one
  of the guests inquired the name of a pyramidal
  dish of barley-sugar. Some one replied, "A pyramid
  _à Macédoine_." "For what use?" rejoined the other.
  "To give a _Philip_ to the appetite," said Croly.

        W. H. HARRISON, _Reminiscences_.


  _ON SOME VERSES CALLED TRIFLES._

  Paul, I have read your book, and though you write ill,
  I needs must praise your most judicious title.

        ANON.


  Mrs. Posh was one of those incomparable wives
  who have a proper command of tongue, who
  never reply to angry words at the moment, and
  who always, with exquisite calm and self-posession, pay
  off every angry word by an amiable sting at the right
  moment.

        LORD LYTTON, _What will he do with it?_


  _TO LADY BROWN._

  When I was young and _débonnaire_,
    The brownest nymph to me was fair;
  But now I'm old, and wiser grown,
    The fairest nymph to me is Brown.

        GEORGE, LORD LYTTLETON.


  When last the Queen was about to be confined,
  the Prince Consort said to one of his little boys,
  "I think it very likely, my dear, that the Queen
  will present you with a little brother or sister; which of
  the two would you prefer?" The child, pausing--"Well,
  I think, if it is all the same to mamma, I should
  prefer a pony."

        J. C. YOUNG, _Diary_.


  Some ladies now make pretty songs,
    And some make pretty nurses:
  Some men are great at righting wrongs,--
    And some at writing verses.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  Follow the light of the old-fashioned Presbyterians
  that I've heard sing at Glasgow. The
  preacher gives out the Psalm, and then everybody
  sings a different tune, as it happens to turn up in
  their throats. It's a domineering thing to set a tune
  and expect everybody else to follow it. It's a denial of
  private judgment.

        _Felix Holt_, in GEORGE ELIOT's novel.


  _ON A CERTAIN RADICAL._

  Bloggs rails against high birth. Yes, Bloggs--you see
  Your ears are longer than your pedigree.

        JAMES HANNAY, _Sketches and Characters_.


  I like neighbours, and I like chickens; but I do
  not think they ought to be united near a garden.

        C. D. WARNER, _My Summer in a Garden_.


  Lady, very fair are you,
  And your eyes are very blue,
        And your hose;
  And your brow is like the snow,
  And the various things you know
        Goodness knows.

        MORTIMER COLLINS, _Ad Chloen, M.A._


  The Jacobins, in realizing their systems of fraternization,
  always contrived to be the elder
  brothers.

        _Guesses at Truth._


  Careless rhymer, it is true
  That my favourite colour's blue;
      But am I
  To be made a victim, sir,
  If to puddings I prefer
    Cambridge [Greek: p]?

        MORTIMER COLLINS, _Chloe, M.A._


  Candide
  Found life most tolerable after meals.

        LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.


  Women, and men who are like women, mind the
  binding more than the book.

        LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Letters to his Son_.


  There was gorging Jack and guzzling Jimmy,
    And the youngest he was little Billee.
  Now when they got as far as the Equator
    They'd nothing left but one split pea.

  Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy,
    "I am extremely hungaree."
  To gorging Jack says guzzling Jimmy,
    "We've nothing left, us must eat we."

  Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy,
    "With one another we shouldn't agree!
  There's little Bill he's young and tender,
    We're old and tough, so let's eat he."

        W. M. THACKERAY.


  "_WHAT AILS HIM AT THE LASSIE?_"

  A friend tells me a funny little story of Mrs. ----
  (the grandmother of Colonel M----), who was
  shown a picture of Joseph and Potiphar's wife,
  in which of course the patriarch showed his usual desire
  to withdraw himself from her society. Mrs. ---- looked
  at it for a little while, and then said, "Eh, now, and what
  ails him at the lassie?"

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _Patchwork_.


  In his last illness, reduced as he was to a skeleton,
  [Hood] noticed a very large mustard poultice
  which Mrs. Hood was making for him, and exclaimed,
  "O Mary! Mary! that will be a great deal of
  mustard to a very little meat!"

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.


  _THE LATEST DECALOGUE._

  Thou shalt have one God only: who
  Would be at the expense of two?
  No graven images may be
  Worshipped, except the currency:
  Swear not at all; for, for thy curse,
  Thine enemy is none the worse:
  At church on Sunday to attend
  Will serve to keep the world thy friend:
  Honour thy parents; that is, all
  From whom advancement may befall:
  Thou shalt not kill; but needst not strive
  Officiously to keep alive:
  Do not adultery commit;
  Advantage rarely comes of it:
  Thou shalt not steal; an empty feat,
  When it's so lucrative to cheat:
  Bear not false witness; let the lie
  Have time on its own wings to fly:
  Thou shalt not covet, but tradition
  Approves all forms of competition.

        A. H. CLOUGH, _Poems_.


  Mr. MacCulloch, the eminent political
  economist, in dining with us, a few days after
  [an aeronautical friend had made an ascent],
  was most anxious to learn where he had descended
  on this occasion. The answer was, "Amongst the flats
  of Essex." "A most appropriate locality," said my
  distinguished countryman, "and one which shows how
  true it is that 'birds of a feather flock together.'"

        MARK BOYD, _Reminiscences._


  He said that I was proud, mother,--that I looked for rank and gold;
  He said I did not love him,--he said my words were cold;
  He said I kept him off and on, in hopes of higher game,--
  And it may be that I did, mother; but who hasn't done the same?

  You may lay me in my bed, mother,--my head is throbbing sore;
  And, mother, prithee, let the sheets be duly aired before;
  And if you'd do a kindness to your poor desponding child,
  Draw me a pot of beer, mother--and, mother, draw it mild!

        _Bon Gaultier Ballads._


  Voltaire was a very good Jesus Christ--for the
  French.

        CHARLES LAMB, _apud_ LEIGH HUNT.


  _ON A THEATRICAL NUISANCE:_

  Perched in a box which cost her not a _sou_,
  Giglina chatters all the evening through,
  Fidgets with opera-glass, and flowers, and shawls,
  Annoys the actors, irritates the stalls.
  Forgive her harmless pride--the cause is plain--
  She wants us all to know she's had champagne.

        SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.


  O, I know the way o' wives; they set one on
  to abuse their husbands, and then they turn
  round on one and praise 'em as if they wanted
  to sell 'em.

        _Priscilla Lammeter_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Mill on the Floss_.


  "And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
    Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
  O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
    He chortled in his joy.

  'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
  All mimsy were the borogroves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Through the Looking-Glass_.


  Mrs. Wordsworth and a lady were walking
  once in a wood where the stock-dove was
  cooing. A farmer's wife coming by, said, "Oh,
  I do like stock-doves!" Mrs. Wordsworth, in all her
  enthusiasm for Wordsworth's beautiful address to the
  stock-dove, took the old woman to her heart. "But,"
  continued the old woman, "some like 'em in a pie; for
  my part there's nothing like 'em stewed in onions!"

        B. R. HAYDON, _Diary_.


  _TO AN AUTHOR._

  In spite of hints, in spite of looks,
  Titus, I send thee not my books.
  The reason, Titus, canst divine?
  I fear lest thou shouldst send me thine.

        MARTIAL, trans. by R. GARNETT.


  A friend, who was about to marry the natural
  daughter of the Duke de ----, was expatiating
  at great length on the virtues, good qualities,
  and talents of his future wife, but without making allusion
  to her birth. "A t'entendre," observed Montrond, "on
  dirait que tu épouses une fille surnaturelle."

        GRONOW, _Recollections_.


  Reading new books is like eating new bread:
  One can bear it at first, but by gradual steps he
  Is brought to death's door of a mental dyspepsy.

        J. R. LOWELL, _A Fable for Critics_.


  Casey mentioned to me a parody of his on two
  lines in the "Veiled Prophet":--
    "He knew no more of fear than one who dwells
     Beneath the tropics knows of icicles."

  The following is his parody, which, bless my stars, none
  of my critics were lively enough to hit upon, for it would
  have stuck by me:--
    "He knew no more of fear than one who dwells
     On Scotia's mountains knows of shoe-buckles."

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  Why mourns my Eugene? In his dark eye of blue
  Why trembles the tear-drop to sympathy due?
  Ah, why must a bosom so pure and refin'd
  Thus vibrate, all nerve, at the woes of mankind?

  Like a sunbeam the clouds of the tempest between,
  A smile lights the eye of the pensive Eugene;
  And thus, in soft accents, the mourner replies,
  "Hang your mustard! it brings the tears in my eyes!"

        R. H. BARHAM, _Ingoldsby Lyrics_.


  Dress does not make a man, but it often makes a
  successful one. What all men should avoid is
  the "shabby genteel." No man ever gets over
  it. You had better be in rags.

        _Vigo_, in LORD BEACONSFIELD's _Endymion_.


  In moss-prankt dells which the sunbeams flatter
    (And Heaven it knoweth what that may mean;
  Meaning, however, is no great matter)
    Where woods are a-tremble, with rifts atween;

  Thro' God's own heather we wonn'd together,
    I and my Willie (O love, my love!):
  I need hardly remark it was glorious weather,
    And flitter-bats waver'd alow, above.

  Boats were curtsying, rising, bowing
    (Boats in that climate are so polite),
  And sands were a ribbon of green endowing,
    And O the sun-dazzle on bark and bight.

  Thro' the rare red heather we danced together,
    (O love, my Willie!) and smelt for flowers:
  I must mention again it was glorious weather,
    Rhymes are so scarce in this world of ours.

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Fly Leaves_.


  'Tis ridiculous for a lord to print verses. It is well
  enough to make them to please himself, but to
  make them public is foolish. If a man in his
  private chamber twirls his bandstrings, or plays with a
  rush to please himself, 'tis well enough, but if he should
  go into Fleet Street, and sit upon a stall, and twirl
  a bandstring, or play with a rush, then all the boys in
  the street would laugh at him.

        SELDEN, _Table Talk_.


  Here, in the grassy hollow, would be spread
  The snowy cloth--dimpled with various viands.
  Ah! cleanly damask of our native land!
  Ah! pleasant memory of pigeon-pie,
  Short-crusted--savoury-jellied--flow'ry-yolked!
  Ah! fair white-bosomed fowl with tawny tongue
  Well married! lobster-salad, crisp and cool,
  With polished silver from clean crockery
  Forked up--washed down with drinks that make me now
  Thirsty to think of.
                      Yes, with ginger-pop
  These crags should echo.
                              Ah! rare golden gleam
  Of sack in silver goblets gilt within!--
  Bright evanescent raptures of champagne--
  Brisk bottled stout in pewters creamy-crowned!

        G. J. CAYLEY, _Las Alforgas_.


  Say, as the witty Duke of Buckingham did to the
  dog that bit him, "I wish you were married, and
  went to live in the country."

        _Ellesmere_, in HELPS' _Friends in Council_.


  Croquet--
  A dainty and difficult sport in its way.
  Thus I counsel the sage, who to play at it stoops,
  _Belabour thy neighbour and spoon through thy hoops_.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  We are never so thoroughly tired of the company of
  any one else as we are sometimes of our own.

        W. HAZLITT, _Characteristics_.


  _ON A VERY TRIFLING FELLOW BEING KNIGHTED._

  What! Dares made a knight! No, don't be frighted;
  He only lost his way, and was be-nighted.

        RICHARD GRAVES (1715-1804).


  Satan was a blunderer, an introducer of _novità_,
  who made a stupendous failure. If he had succeeded,
  we should all have been worshipping
  him, and his portrait would have been more flattered.

        _Machiavelli_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Romola_.


  You see the goodly hair that Galla wears;
    'Tis certain her own hair: who would have thought it?
  She swears it is her own, and true she swears,
    For hard by Temple Bar last day she bought it.

        SIR JOHN HARYNGTON (1561-1612).


  The worst of human maladies are the most transient
  also--love that is half despairing, and seasickness
  that is quite so.

        _Leslie_, in MALLOCK's _New Republic_.


  _ON A SMALL EATER._

  Simplicity is best, 'tis true,
    But not in every mortal's power:
  If thou, O maid, canst live on dew,
    'Tis proof thou art indeed a flower.

        R. GARNETT, _Idylls and Epigrams_.


  On Walpole's remarking that, of two pictures mentioned,
  one was "a shade above the other in
  point of merit," [Hook] replied: "I presume you
  mean to say it was a _shade over_ (_chef d'oeuvre_)."

        R. H. BARHAM, _Diary_.


  The nightingales are all about--
    Their song is everywhere--
  Their notes are lovely (though they're out
    So often in the air).

  The zephyr, dancing through the tops
    Of ash and poplar, weaves
  Low melodies, and scarcely stops
    To murmur "By your leaves!"

  Night steeps the passions of the day
    In quiet, peace, and love.
  Pale Dian, in her tranquil way,
    Kicks up a shine above.

        H. S. LEIGH, CAROLS OF COCKAYNE.


  Tinder--a thin rag; such, for instance, as the
  dresses of modern females, intended to catch the
  sparks, raise a flame, and light up a match.

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


  _ON DRESS._

  He who a gold-finch strives to make his wife
  Makes her, perhaps, a wag-tail all her life.

        _A Collection of Epigrams_ (1727).


  [Of Lafayette]: The world is surprised that there
  was once an honest man: the situation remains
  vacant.

        HEINRICH HEINE, _Thoughts and Fancies_.


  _ON AILING AND ALE-ING._

  Come, come, for trifles never stick:
    Most servants have a failing;
  Yours, it is true, are sometimes sick,
    But mine are always ale-ing.

        HENRY LUTTRELL.


  Sir George Rose, being introduced one day
  to two charming young ladies, whose names were
  Mary and Louisa, instantly added, with a bow,
  "Ah, yes! _Marie-Louise_--the sweetest _pear_ I know!"

        _Macmillan's Magazine._


  _TO A CRUEL FAIR ONE._

  'Tis done; I yield; adieu, thou cruel fair!
    Adieu, th' averted face, th' ungracious cheek!
  I go to die, to finish all my care,
    To hang--to hang?--yes, round another's neck.

        LEIGH HUNT (from the French).


  _Bishop (reproving delinquent Page)._ "Wretched
  boy! _Who_ is it that sees and hears all we do,
  and before whom _even I_ am but as a crushed
  worm?"
  _Page._ "The Missus, my Lord!"

        _Punch._


  _ON DRUNKEN COURAGE._

  Who only in his cups will fight is like
  A clock that must be oil'd well ere it strikes.

        THOMAS BANCROFT (_circa_ 1600).


  Talking to ---- is like playing long whist.

        LADY ASHBURTON, _apud_ LORD HOUGHTON.


  _CERBERUS._

  My dog, who picks up everything one teaches,
  Has got "three heads," like Mr. Gladstone's speeches,
  But, as might naturally be expected,
  His are considerably more connected.

        H. J. BYRON, in _English Epigrams_.


  Blessed be the word "nice"!--it is the copper
  coin of commendation. Without it, we should
  have to praise more handsomely.

        CHARLES BUXTON, _Notes of Thought_.


  _ON NEWGATE WINDOWS._

  All Newgate windows bay windows they be;
  All lookers out there stand at bay we see.

        JOHN HEYWOOD (1506-1565).


  It was a grand scene, Mr. Artemus Ward standing
  on the platform; many of the audience sleeping
  tranquilly in their seats; others leaving the
  room and not returning; others crying like a child at
  some of the jokes,--all, all formed a most impressive scene,
  and showed the powers of this remarkable orator. And
  when he announced that he should never lecture in that
  town again, the applause was absolutely deafening.

        C. F. BROWNE, _Artemus Ward's Lecture_.


  _THE REASONS FOR DRINKING._

  If all be true that I do think,
  There are five reasons we should drink:
  Good wine; a friend; or being dry;
  Or lest we should be by-and-by;
  Or any other reason why.

        HENRY ALDRICH.


  [Barham] having expressed himself in terms of
  abhorrence of a piece of baseness and treachery
  which came under his notice, he was addressed
  by the delinquent with--"Well, sir, perhaps some day
  you may come to change your opinion of me!" "Perhaps
  I may, sir," was the reply; "for if I should find
  any one who holds a more contemptible opinion of you
  than I do myself, I should lay down my own and take up
  his."

        R. H. D. BARHAM, _Life of Barham_.


  _FALSE LOVE'S QUIRK._

  "Oh, sweet one!" sighs the lover,
    "Could I but this discover,--
  Thy breast so softly moving,
    Will it ever cease from loving?"

  Says she, her eyes upturning,
    "The love within me burning
  No time can ever smother"--
    For some one or another!

        LORD SOUTHESK, _Greenwood's Farewell_.


  Benjamin Constant, on some one asking
  (with reference to his book on religion) how he
  managed to reconcile the statements of his
  latter volumes with those of his first, published so long
  ago, answered, "Il n'y a rien qui s'arrange aussi facilement
  que les faits."

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  I'm told that virgins augur some
  Misfortune if their shoe-strings come
              To grief on Friday:
  And so did Di, and then her pride
  Decreed that shoe-strings so untied
              Are "so untidy!"

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  On one occasion the late Lady Holland took
  [Luttrell] a drive in her carriage over a rough
  road; and as she was very nervous, she insisted
  on being driven at a foot's pace. This ordeal lasted
  some hours, and when he was at last released, poor
  Luttrell, perfectly exasperated, rushed into the nearest
  club-house, and exclaimed, clenching his teeth and
  hands, "The very funerals passed us!"

        GRONOW, _Recollections_.


  _TO A YOUNG LADY._

  An original something dear maid, you would win me
    To write, but how shall I begin?
  For I fear I have nothing original in me--
    Excepting Original Sin.

        THOMAS CAMPBELL.


  La société est un état de guerre, réglé par les lois.

        _L'Art de Parvenir._


  Perchance it was her eyes of blue,
    Her cheeks that might the rose have shamed,
  Her figure in proportion true
    To all the rules by artists framed;
  Perhaps it was her mental worth
    That made her lover love her so,
  Perhaps her name, or wealth, or birth,--
    I cannot tell--I do not know.

  He may have had a rival, who
    Did fiercely gage him to a duel,
  And being the luckiest of the two
    Defeated him with triumph cruel;
  Then _she_ may have proved false, and turned
    To welcome to her arms his foe,
  Left _him_ despairing, conquer'd, spurned,--
    I cannot tell--I do not know.

        _Songs of Singularity._


  It is of no use to tell a neighbour that his hens
  eat your tomatoes: it makes no impression on
  him, for the tomatoes are not his. The best
  way is to casually remark to him that he has a fine lot of
  chickens, pretty well grown, and that you like spring
  chickens broiled. He will take them away at once.

        C. D. WARNER, _My Summer in a Garden_.


  One persuaded his friend to marry a little woman,
  because of evils the least was to be chosen.

        _Conceits, Clinches_, etc. (1639).


  Charles Kemble used to tell a story about
  some poor foreigner, dancer or pantomimist in
  the country, who, after many annual attempts
  to clear his expenses, came forward one evening with a
  face beaming with pleasure and gratitude, and addressed
  the audience in these words:--"Dear Public! moche
  oblige. Ver good benefice--only lose half-a-crown. I
  come again!"

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Recollections_.


  "Let's show," said M'Clan, "to this Sassenach loon
  That the bag-pipes _can_ play him a regular tune.
  Let's see," said M'Clan, as he thoughtfully sat,
  "'In my Cottage' is easy--I'll practise at that."

  He blew at his "Cottage," and blew with a will,
  For a year, seven months, and a fortnight, until
  (You'll hardly believe it) M'Clan, I declare,
  Elicited something resembling an air.

  It was wild--it was fitful--as wild as the breeze--
  It wandered about into several keys;
  It was jerky, spasmodic, and harsh, I'm aware;
  But still it distinctly suggested an air.

        W. S. GILBERT, _Bab Ballads_.


  All men are brothers--Cains and Abels.

        ANON.


  The blameless king
  Rising again (to Lancelot's discontent,
  Who held all speeches a tremendous bore),
  Said, "If one duty to be done remains,
  And 'tis neglected, all the rest is nought
  But Dead Sea apples and the acts of Apes."

  Smiled Guinevere, and begged him not to preach;
  She knew that duty, and it should be done;
  So what of pudding on that festal night
  Was not consumed by Arthur and his guests,
  The queen upon the following morning fried.

        SHIRLEY BROOKS, _Wit and Humour_.


  One way of getting an idea of our fellow-countrymen's
  miseries is to go and look at their
  pleasures.

        GEORGE ELIOT, _Felix Holt_.


  _TO A RICH LADY._

  I will not ask if thou canst touch
    The tuneful ivory key,--
  Those silent notes of thine are such
    As quite suffice for me.

  I'll make no question if thy skill
    The pencil comprehends;--
  Enough for me, love, if thou still
    Canst draw--thy dividends.

        _Punch._


  At the Duke of Wellington's funeral, the little child
  of a friend of mine was standing with her mother
  at Lord Ashburton's window to see the mournful
  pageant. During the passage of the procession, she
  made no remark until the duke's horse was led by, its
  saddle empty, and his boots reversed in the stirrups,
  when she looked up in her mother's face and said,
  "Mamma, when we die, will there be nothing left of us
  but boots?"

        J. C. YOUNG, _Diary_.


  Such power hath Beer. The heart which Grief hath canker'd
  Hath one unfailing remedy--the tankard.

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Verses and Translations_.


  Dined with Mr. (Sydney) Smith. He told me of
  the motto he had proposed for Bishop Burgess's
  arms, in allusion to his brother, the well-known
  fish-sauce projector:

    "_Gravi_ jamdudum _saucia_ curâ."

        R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.


  One's self-satisfaction is an untaxed kind of
  property which it is very unpleasant to find
  depreciated.

        GEORGE ELIOT, _Middlemarch_.


  "My lord cannot stand Treeby more than two days,
  and Treeby cannot stand my lord for a longer
  period, and that is why they are such friends."
  "A sound basis of agreement," said Lord Roehampton.
  "I believe absence is a great element of charm."

        LORD BEACONSFIELD, _Endymion_.


  _SALAD._

  O cool in the summer is salad,
    And warm in the winter is love;
  And a poet shall sing you a ballad
    Delicious thereon and thereof.
  A singer I am, if no sinner,
    My muse has a marvellous wing,
  And I willingly worship at dinner
                The Sirens of Spring.

  Take Endive--like love it is bitter,
    Take beet--for like love it is red,
  Crisp leaf of the lettuce shall glitter,
    And cress from the rivulet's bed:
  Anchovies, foam-born, like the lady
    Whose beauty has maddened this bard;
  And olives, from groves that are shady;
                And eggs--boil 'em hard.

        MORTIMER COLLINS, _The British Birds_.


  Query, whether churches are not dormitories of
  the living as well as of the dead?

        SWIFT, _Thoughts_.


  The Mock Turtle said, "No wise fish would go
  anywhere without a porpoise."

  "Wouldn't it, really?" said Alice, in a tone of
  great surprise.

  "Of course not," said the Mock Turtle; "why, if a
  fish came to _me_, and told me he was going a journey, I
  should say, 'With what porpoise?'"

  "Don't you mean 'purpose?'" said Alice.

  "I mean what I say," the Mock Turtle replied, in an
  offended tone.

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Alice in Wonderland_.


  Vill'st dou learn de Deutsche Sprache?
    If a shendleman dou art,
  Denn strike right indo Deutschland,
    Und get a schveetes-heart.
  From Schwabenland or Sachsen,
    Vhere now dis writer pees;
  Und de bretty girls all wachsen
    Shoost like aepples on de drees.

  Boot if dou bee'st a laty,
    Denn, on de oder hand,
  Take a blonde moustachioed lofer
    In de vine green Sherman land.
  Und if you shoost kit married
    (Vood mit vood soon makes a vire),
  You'll learn to sprechen Deutsch, mein kind,
    Ash fast ash you tesire.

        C. G. LELAND, _Breitmann Ballads_.


  The Bishop of St. David's has been studying Welsh
  all the summer; it is a difficult language, and I
  hope he will be careful,--it is so easy for him to
  take up the Funeral Service and read it over the next
  wedding-party, or to make a mistake in a tense in a
  Confirmation, and the children will have renounced their
  godfathers and godmothers and got nothing in their
  place.

        SYDNEY SMITH, _apud_ LORD HOUGHTON.


  Beautiful soup, so rich and green,
  Waiting in a hot tureen!
  Who for such dainties would not stoop?
  Soup of the evening, beautiful soup!
  Soup of the evening, beautiful soup!

  Beautiful soup! Who cares for fish,
  Game, or any other dish?
  Who would not give all else for two p
  Ennyworth only of beautiful soup?
  Pennyworth only of beautiful soup?

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Alice in Wonderland_.


  Writing to Manning, Charles Lamb says: "----
  says he could write like Shakespeare if he had a
  _mind_--so you see nothing is wanting but the
  _mind_."

        CRABB ROBINSON, _Diary_.


  _ON BALLS AND OPERAS._

  If by their names we things should call,
    It surely would be properer
  To term a singing-piece a _bawl_,
    A dancing-piece a _hopperer_!

        ANON.


  Among all forms of mistake, prophecy is the most
  gratuitous.

        GEORGE ELIOT, _Middlemarch_.


  _ON LOVE._

  Love levels all--it elevates the clown,
  And often brings the fattest people down.

        H. J. BYRON, in _English Epigrams_.


  The Hanoverian squires are asses who can talk of
  nothing but horses.

        HEINRICH HEINE, _Thoughts and Fancies_.


  Sir George Warrender was once obliged to put off
  a dinner-party in consequence of the death of
  a relative, and sat down to a haunch of venison
  by himself. While eating, he said to his butler, "John,
  this will make a capital hash to-morrow." "Yes, Sir
  George, if you leave off _now_!"

        R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.


  _TO CHLORIS._

  Chloris, I swear, by all I ever swore,
  That from this hour I shall not love thee more.
  "What! love no more? oh, why this altered vow?"
  Because I _cannot_ love thee _more_--than _now_.

        THOMAS MOORE.


  You close your petition with the words: "And we
  will ever pray." I think you had better--you
  need to do it.

        MARK TWAIN, _Choice Works_.


  Husbands, more covetous than sage,
  Condemn this china-buying rage;
  They count that woman's prudence little
  Who sets her heart on things so brittle.

        JOHN GAY, _Poems_.


  Umbrella--an article which, by the morality of
  society, you may steal from friend or foe, and
  which, for the same reason, you should not lend
  to either.

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


  La curiosité n'est que la vanité. Le plus souvent
  on ne veut savoir que pour en parler.

        PASCAL, _Pensées_.


  O how unlike our shores,
  Where with ten thousand tongues each city roars!
  There to all men, whate'er their age or walk,
  Life's one great solemn business is to talk.
  There what the penny press by morning write
  Is echoed for a halfpenny at night:
  There stump young Ministers; old Maids debate;
  There loud Professors scold like Billingsgate:
  There, as the World into the Church expands,
  A moral Atheist spouts in parson's bands;
  And poets, doubtful of the parts of speech,
  Desperate of rhyme, acquire the art to preach.

        _Windbag_, in COURTHOPE's _Paradise of Birds_.


  Prince Metternich said to Lord Dudley,
  "You are the only Englishman I know who
  speaks good French. It is remarked, the
  common people in Vienna speak better than the educated
  men in London." "That may well be," replied
  Lord Dudley. "Your Highness should recollect that
  Buonaparte has not been twice in London to teach
  them."

        CRABB ROBINSON, _Diary_.


  When a felon's not engaged in his employment,
    Or maturing his felonious little plans,
  His capacity for innocent enjoyment
    Is just as great as any honest man's.

        W. S. GILBERT, _Pirates of Penzance_.


  She's an angel in a frock
  With a fascinating cock
                  To her nose.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  To speak highly of one with whom we are intimate
  is a species of egotism.

        W. HAZLITT, _Characteristics_.


  The annals of our native land were lapsed in doubt and mystery,
  Till Mr. Freeman t'other day discovered English History,
  And now admonishes the world it is his fixed intention
  To make it a monopoly and patent the invention.

       F. D., in _Pall Mall Gazette_.


  "It is rather sad," sighed Virginia, as she dived
  into a box of French chocolate-creams, "to
  think that all the poor people are drowned
  that these things belonged to."

  "They are not dead," said the Professor: "they still
  live on this holy and stupendous earth. They live in
  the use we are making of all they had got together. The
  owner of those chocolate-creams is immortal because you
  are eating them."

  Virginia licked her lips, and said, "Nonsense!"

  "It is not nonsense," said the Professor. "It is the
  religion of Humanity."

        W. H. MALLOCK, _The New Paul and Virginia_.


  The sort of fun
    I witnessed there _was_ "awful;"
  Buffoonery devoid of all
    That makes an art of folly,
  Music that was "most music-hall,"
    To hear "most melancholy."

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Songs and Poems_.


  You are a woman; you must never speak what
  you think: your words must contradict your
  thoughts: but your actions may contradict your
  words. So, when I ask you if you can love me, you
  must say no; but you must love me too. If I tell you
  you are handsome, you must deny it, and say I flatter
  you; and you must think yourself more charming than
  I speak you, and like me for the beauty I say you have,
  as much as if I had it myself.

        _Tattle_, in CONGREVE's _Love for Love_.


  Dear Poet, do not rhyme at all!
    But if you must, don't tell your neighbour,
  Or five in six, who cannot scrawl,
    Will dub you donkey for your labour.
  Be patient, but be sure you won't
    Win vogue without extreme vexation;
  Yet hope for sympathy,--but don't
    Expect it from a near relation.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  Nous pardonnons souvent à ceux qui nous ennuient;
  mais nous ne pouvons pardonner à ceux qui
  nous ennuyons.

        LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions_.


  There is a phrase we oft have seen
    On bottle-labels writ,
  And those who invalids have been
    Best know the drift of it;
  It may embody in a line
    A world of chemic lore,
  And skill to portion and combine--
    _The mixture as before_.

  This will apply to many things,
    To oratory most,
  Addresses made to kings and queens,
    And wedding speech and toast;
  For commonplace and compliment
    Are mingled o'er and o'er;
  _This_ saves the trouble to invent--
    _The mixture as before_.

        _Songs of Singularity._


  I had forgotten to mention that essay, Miss
  Daylmer; that is our essay on cookery,--the
  one we always begin with in reading to ladies;
  as Milverton said, "entirely within their province." I
  wish they paid more attention to it; but people seldom
  do attend to things within their province.

        _Ellesmere_, in HELPS's _Friends in Council_.


  There was an old waiter at Wapping
  Drew corks for a week without stopping;
        Cried he, "It's too bad!
        The practice I've had!
  Yet cannot prevent them from popping!"

  There was an old priest of Peru,
  Who dreamt he converted a Jew;
        He woke in the night
        In a deuce of a fright,
  And found it was perfectly true.

  There was an old witch of Malacca,
  Who smoked such atrocious tob_acca_,
        When tigers came near,
        They trembled with fear,
  And didn't attempt to att_acca_.

        _Songs of Singularity._


  A woman dictates before marriage in order that
  she may have an appetite for submission afterwards.

        GEORGE ELIOT, _Middlemarch_.


  Sydney Smith, speaking of his being shampooed
  at Mahomet's Baths at Brighton in 1840,
  said they "squeezed enough out of him to make
  a lean curate."

        R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.


  Now brim your glass, and plant it well
    Beneath your nose on the table,
  And you will find what philosophers tell
    Of I and non-I is no fable.
  Now listen to wisdom, my son!
      Myself am the subject,
      This wine is the object:
      These things are two,
      But I'll prove to you
  That subject and object are one.

  I take this glass in my hand, and stand
    Upon my legs, if I can,
  And look and smile benign and bland,
    And feel that I am a man.
  Now stretch all the strength of your brains!
      I drink--and the object
      Is lost in the subject,
      Making one entity
      In the identity
  Of me, and the wine in my veins!

        J. S. BLACKIE, _Musa Burschicosa_.


  Punsters being abused, and the old joke
  repeated that "He who puns will pick a pocket,"
  some one said, "Punsters themselves have no
  pockets." "No," said Lamb, "they carry only a
  _ridicule_."

        CRABB ROBINSON, _Diary_.


  It is always a pleasure to me when two of my
  friends like each other, just as I am always glad
  when two of my enemies take to fighting with each
  other.

        HEINRICH HEINE, _Preface to Don Quixote_.


  He stood on his head on the wild sea-shore,
    And joy was the cause of the act,
  For he felt as he never had felt before,
    Insanely glad, in fact.

  And why? In that vessel that left the bay
    His mother-in-law had sail'd
  To a tropical country far away,
    Where tigers and snakes prevail'd.

        _Songs of Singularity._


  [Berkeley] had no ear for music himself, but
  music was an enthusiasm in the family, and he
  retained the well-known Signor Pasquilino for
  years to teach his children. It was then that the Signor,
  who had been learning English from a dictionary, exclaimed
  in an outbreak of gratitude, "May God _pickle_
  your lordship!"

        A. C. FRASER, _Berkeley_.


  Women always did, from the first, make a muss in
  a garden.

        C. D. WARNER, _My Summer in a Garden_.


  _GOOD ADVICE._

  This gardener's rule applies to youth and age:
  When young "sow wild oats," but when old "grow sage."

        H. J. BYRON, in _English Epigrams_.


  The sacred slow harmonium bring,
    The gentler pianette,
  The cymbals, with sonorous ring,
    The dulcet flageolet.

  Nor be the voice of glory dumb,
    Of conquest and of strife,
  Bring forth the stirring trump and drum,
    The shrill and piercing fife.

  Ay, bring them all, my soul with glee
    To music I'll devote;
  Bring all--for all are one to me,--
    I cannot play a note!

        _Songs of Singularity._


  We sometimes hate those who differ from us in
  opinion worse than we should for an attempt to
  injure us in the most serious point. A favourite
  theory is a possession for life; and we resent any attack
  upon it proportionably.

        W. HAZLITT, _Characteristics_.


  When Mrs. M'Gibbon was preparing to act Jane
  Shore, at Liverpool, her dresser, an ignorant
  country girl, informed her that a woman had
  called to request two box orders, because she and her
  daughter had walked four miles on purpose to see the
  play. "Does she know me?" inquired the mistress.
  "Not at all," was the reply. "What a very odd request!"
  exclaimed Mrs. M'G. "Has the good woman got her
  faculties about her?" "I think she have, ma'am, for I
  see she ha' got summut tied up in a red silk handkercher."

        HORACE SMITH, _The Tin Trumpet_.


  A clerke ther was, a puissant wight was hee,
  Who of ye Wethere hadde ye maisterie;
  Alway it was his mirthe and his solace
  To put eche seson's wethere out of place.

  Whaune that Aprille shoures wer our desyre,
  He gaf us Julye sonnes as hotte as fyre;
  But sith ye summere togges we donned agayne,
  Eftsoons ye wethere chaunged to colde and rayne.

        _Songs of Singularity._


  I shouldn't like to be a man--to cough so
  loud, and stand straddling about on a wet day,
  and be so wasteful with meat and drink. They're
  a coarse lot, I think.

        _Denner_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Felix Holt_.


  Once the mastodon was: pterodactyls were common as cocks:
  Then the Mammoth was God: now is He a prize ox.

  Parallels all things are: yet many of these are askew:
  You are certainly I: but certainly I am not you.

  Springs the rock from the plain, shoots the stream from the rock:
  Cocks exist for the hen: but hens exist for the cock.

  God, whom we see not, is: and God, who is not, we see:
  Fiddle, we know, is diddle: and diddle, we take it, is dee.

        _The Heptalogia._


  _A privileged person._--One who is so
  much of a savage when thwarted that civilized
  persons avoid thwarting him.

        ANNE EVANS, _Poems and Music_.


  I've studied human nature, and I know a thing or two;
  Though a girl may fondly love a living gent, as many do:
  A feeling of disgust upon her senses there will fall
  When she looks upon his body chopped particularly small.

        W. S. GILBERT, _Bab Ballads_.


  The Bishop of Exeter, in the course of conversation
  at a dinner-party, mentioned that many
  years since, while trout-fishing, he lost his watch
  and chain, which he supposed had been pulled from his
  pocket by the bough of a tree. Some time afterwards,
  when staying in the same neighbourhood, he took a
  stroll by the side of the river, and came to the secluded
  spot where he supposed he had lost his valuables, and
  there, to his surprise and delight, he found them under a
  bush. The anecdote, vouched for by the word of a
  bishop, astonished the company; but this was changed
  to amusement by his son's inquiring whether the watch,
  when found, was going. "No," replied the bishop;
  "the wonder was that it was not gone."

        GRONOW, _Recollections_.


  _ON FORTUNE._

  Fortune, they say, doth give too much to many:
  And yet she never gave enough to any.

        SIR JOHN HARYNGTON (1561-1612).


  I do not speak of this mole in any tone of complaint.
  I desire to write nothing against him
  which I should wish to recall at the last,--nothing
  foreign to the spirit of that beautiful saying of
  the dying boy, "He had no copybook, which, dying, he
  was sorry he had blotted."

        C. D. WARNER, _My Summer in a Garden_.


  Know, then, that when that touching scene
   Had reached its tenderest pitch,
  When all was pathos, calm, serene,
    _His nose began to itch_.

  'Twas sad, but so it came to pass,
    The knight might chafe and frown,
  But could not reach it, for alas!
    _He wore his vizor down_.

        _Songs of Singularity._


  I remember asking [Bagehot] if he had enjoyed
  a particular dinner which he had rather expected
  to enjoy, but he replied, "No, the sherry was
  bad; tasted as if L---- had dropped his h's into it."

      R. H. HUTTON, _Memoir of W. Bagehot_.


  When Beings of the fairer sex
  Arrange their white arms round our necks,
    We are, we ought to be, enraptured.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.


  "Pray, Mr. Foote, do you ever go to church?"
  "No, madam; not that I see any harm in it."

        THOMAS MOORE, _Diary_.


  _ON AN INCAPABLE PERSON._

  Fortune advanced thee that all might aver
  That nothing is impossible to her.

        R. GARNETT (from the Greek).


  I remember a Trinity College (Dublin) story of
  a student who, having to translate Cæsar, rendered
  the first sentence, "Omnis Gallia divisa est
  in tres partes,"--"All Gaul is quartered into three
  halves."

        W. H. HARRISON, _University Magazine_.


  Always seem to be modest and bashful, yet wise;
  Remember the value of using your eyes;
  Recollect, too, that money's not easily met,
  And always accept every offer you get;
  Be polite to all--grandmammas, sisters, and mothers,
  For they've all of them grandsons, or own sons or brothers;
  And never forget the chief object in life
  Is to quickly be settled--a well-to-do wife.

        _Phoebe_, in H. P. STEPHENS's _Billee Taylor_.


  One asked what herb that was that cured all
  diseases. It was answered, "Time."

        _Conceits, Clinches_, etc. (1639).


  In his sleeves, which were long,
    He had twenty-four packs--
  Which was coming it strong,
    Yet I state but the facts;
  And we found on his nails, which were taper,
    What is frequent in tapers--that's wax.

        BRET HARTE, _Complete Works_.


  In a conversation which happened to turn on railway
  accidents and the variety of human sufferings,
  a bank director observed that he always
  felt great interest in the case of a broken limb. "Then,
  I suppose," said ----, "for a compound fracture you feel
  compound interest."

        W. JERDAN, _Memoirs_.


  _ON A CERTAIN POET._

  Thy verses are eternal, O my friend,
  For he who reads them reads them to no end.

        _A Collection of Epigrams_ (1727).


  One day, coming late to dinner in the country,
  [Lady Charlotte Lindsay] excused herself by
  the "macadamnable" state of the roads.

        LORD HOUGHTON, _Monographs_.


  I wish some girls that I could name
  Were half as silent as their pictures!

        W. M. PRAED.


  The other day I heard that whimsical fellow G----
  make a rather foolish remark, to the effect that
  the pleasure of _not_ going to church was a
  pleasure that _never_ palled.

        FREDERICK LOCKER, _Patchwork_.


  And day again declines;
  In shadow sleep the vines,
  And the last ray thro' the pines
          Feebly glows,
  Then sinks behind yon ridge;
  And the usual evening midge
  Is settling on the bridge
          Of my nose.

  And keen's the air and cold,
  And the sheep are in the fold,
  And Night walks stable-stoled
          Thro' the trees;
  And on the silent river
  The floating star-beams quiver;--
  And now, the saints deliver
          Us from fleas.

        C. S. CALVERLEY, _Verses and Translations_.


  Tommy Townshend, a violent, foolish fellow,
  who was always talking strong language, said in
  some debate, "Nothing will satisfy me but to
  have the noble Lord [North]'s head; I will have his
  head." Lord North said, "The honourable gentleman
  says he will have my head. I bear him no malice in
  return, for though the honourable gentleman says he will
  have my head, I can assure him I would on no account
  have his."

        CHARLES GREVILLE, _Diary_.


  With undissembled grief I tell,--
    For sorrow never comes too late,--
  The simplest bonnet in Pall Mall
    Is sold for £1 8_s._

        CATHARINE M. FANSHAWE.


  Said the Gryphon, "Do you know why it's called
  a whiting?"

  "I never thought about it," said Alice.
  "Why?"

  "_It does the boots and shoes_," the Gryphon replied
  very solemnly.

  Alice was thoroughly puzzled. "Does the boots and
  shoes?" she repeated in a wondering tone.

  "Why, what are _your_ shoes done with?" said the
  Gryphon. "I mean, what makes them so shiny?"

  Alice looked down at them, and considered a little
  before she gave her answer. "They're done with blacking,
  I believe."

  "Boots and shoes under the sea," the Gryphon went
  on in a deep voice, "are done with whiting. Now you
  know."

        LEWIS CARROLL, _Alice in Wonderland_.


  I'm always dull on Christmas Day,
    It lets a flood of ills in,
  For that's the time those birds of prey
    Bring all their horrid bills in!

        J. R. PLANCHÉ, _Songs and Poems_.


  The wit of a family is usually best received among
  strangers.

        GEORGE ELIOT, _Middlemarch_.


  Sweet maids in wimples fair y-wrought,
    Shall smile upon thee. Thou shalt say,
  Oft, by thy halidame, there's nought
    So gracious and so fair as they,
  But what thy halidame may be,
  I trow 'tis useless asking me.

        H. SAVILE CLARKE.


  Le vrai honnête homme est celui qui ne se pique de
  rien.

        LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, _Réflexions_.


  O memory! thou art but a sigh
    For friendships dead and loves forgot,
  And many a cold and altered eye
    That once did say--Forget me not!

  And I must bow me to thy laws,
    For--odd although it may be thought--
  I can't tell who the deuce it was
    That gave me this Forget-me-not!

        _Bon Gaultier Ballads._


  What is Truth? "Bring me the wash-hand basin,"
  is the reply of Pontius Pilate.

        HEINRICH HEINE, _The Denunciator_.


  _ON A RECENT ROBBERY._

  They came and stole my garments,
    My stockings, all my store,
  But they could not steal my sermons,
    For they were stolen before.

        REV. HENRY TOWNSHEND.


  Some folk's tongues are like the clocks as run on
  strikin', not to tell you the time o' day, but
  because there's summat wrong i' their own
  inside.

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


  'Tis said that he lived upon bacon and beans,
  And that sometimes he dined upon salt pork and greens;
  But he thought that such feeding was rather humdrum,--
  "I've gone the whole hog," said little Tom Thumb.

  As Tom once was crossing a river close by,
  A salmon snapped up, as it would at a fly;
  But as it was dark Tom did sing rather mum--
  "I'm down in the mouth," said little Tom Thumb.

  Next day a black raven poor Tom did espy,
  Which carried him up to the heaven so high;
  If the bird let him go, to the ground would he come--
  "I'll be dashed if I do," said little Tom Thumb.

        J. A. SIDEY, _Mistura Curiosa_.


  It is often harder to praise a friend than an enemy.

        W. HAZLITT, _Characteristics_.


  _ON A CERTAIN PARSON._

  By purchase a man's property is known:
  Scarf's sermons and his livings are his own.

        _Epigrams in Distich_ (1740).


  I measure men's dullness by the devices they
  trust in for deceiving others. Your dullest
  animal is he who grins and says he doesn't mind
  just after he has had his shins kicked.

        MACHIAVELLI, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Romola_.


  _GRAMMATICAL._

  The least drop in the world I do not mind:
  "Cognac" 's a noun I never yet declined.

        H. J. BYRON, in _English Epigrams_.


  "There is no middle course," said Charles X. to
  Talleyrand, "between the throne and the
  scaffold!" "Your Majesty forgets the post-chaise!"

        CRABB ROBINSON, _Diary_.


  I could not, while you shone,
    Run all that heartless _babble off_
  That marks the modern _Babylon_.

        ROBERT REECE, in _Comic Poets_.


  _TO AN IMPORTUNATE HOST
  DURING DINNER AND AFTER TENNYSON._

  Ask me no more: I've had enough Chablis;
      The wine may come again, and take the shape,
      From glass to glass, of "Mountain" or of "Cape;"
  But, my dear boy, when I have answered thee,
                                      Ask me no more.

  Ask me no more: what answer should I give?
      I love not pickled pork nor partridge pie;
      I feel if I took whisky I should die;
  Ask me no more--for I prefer to live:
                                      Ask me no more.

  Ask me no more: unless my fate is sealed,
      And I have striven against you all in vain:
      Let your good butler bring me Hock again:
  Then rest, dear boy. If for this once I yield,
                                      Ask me no more.

        W. D. A.


  Sir Robert Grant told a story well, and
  could pun successfully without boring. By way
  of instance, on the beach at Sidmouth he pronounced
  the six beautiful Miss Twopennys to be the
  "Splendid shilling."

        LORD TEIGNMOUTH, _Reminiscences_.


  Oh to be wafted away
    From this black Aceldama of sorrow,
  Where the dust of an earthy to-day,
    Is the earth of a dusty to-morrow!

       _Bunthorne_, in W. S. GILBERT's _Patience_.


  One said, painters were cunning fellows, for they
  had a colour for everything they did.

        _Conceits, Clinches_, etc. (1639).


  Dey vent to hear a breecher of
    De last sensadion shtyle,
  'Twas 'nough to make der tyfel weep
    To see his "awful shmile."
  "Vot bities dat der Fechter ne'er
    Vos in Theologie.
  Dey'd make him pishop in dis shoorsh,"
    Said Breitmann, said he.

        C. G. LELAND, _Breitmann Ballads_.


  "Oh! Pat; and what do you think will be your
  feelings on the day of judgment when you
  meet Mrs. Mahoney, and the pig you stole from
  her, face to face?" "Does your reverence think the pig
  will be there?" "Ay, indeed, will he; and what will ye
  say then?" "I shall say, your reverence, 'Mrs. Mahoney,
  dear, here's the pig that I borrowed of ye, and I'm
  mighty glad to have this opportunity of restoring him!'"

        _Life of Rev. W. Harness._


  _In vino veritas!_--which means
    A man's a very ass in liquor;
  The "thief that slowly steals our brains"
    Makes nothing but the temper quicker.
  Next morning brings a train of woes,
    But finds the passions much sedater--
  Who was it, now, that pulled my nose?--
    I'd better go and ask the waiter.

        H. CHOLMONDELEY PENNELL, _Pegasus Resaddled_.


  Jones, the tailor, was asked by a customer, who
  thought much of his cut, to go down and have
  some shooting with him in the country. Among
  the party was the Duke of Northumberland. "Well,
  Mr. Jones," observed his Grace, "I'm glad to see that
  you are becoming a sportsman. What sort of gun do
  you shoot with?" "Oh, with a double-breasted one,
  your Grace," was the reply.

        _Life of Rev. W. Harness._


  Now wedlock is a sober thing,
    No more of chains or forges!
  A plain young man, a plain gold ring,
    The curate, and St. George's.

        EDWARD FITZGERALD.


  The greatest advantage I know of being thought
  a wit by the world, is, that it gives one the
  greater freedom of playing the fool.

       POPE, _Thoughts on Various Subjects_.


  Conceive me, if you can,
  An every-day young man:
      A common-place type,
      With a stick and a pipe,
  And a half-bred black-and-tan;
      Who thinks suburban "hops"
      More fun than "Monday Pops";
  Who's fond of his dinner,
  And doesn't get thinner,
      On bottled beer and chops;--
      A common-place young man--
      A matter-of-fact young man--
  A steady and stolid-y, jolly Bank-holiday
      Every-day young man!

        _Grosvenor_, in W. S. GILBERT's _Patience_.


  I do not so much want to avoid being cheated, as
  to afford the expense of being so; the generality
  of mankind being seldom in good humour but
  whilst they are imposing upon you in some shape or
  other.

        SHENSTONE, _Essays_.


  Only think, to have lords overrunning the nation,
  As plenty as frogs in a Dutch inundation;
  No shelter from barons, from earls no protection,
  And tadpole young lords, too, in every direction,--
  Things created in haste, just to make a court list of,
  Two legs and a coronet all they consist of!

        THOMAS MOORE.


  Lo! the king, his footsteps this way bending,
  His cogitative faculties immersed
  In cogibundity of cogitation.

        _Aldiborontiphoscophornio_, in CAREY's _Chrononhotonthologos_.


  It is with narrow-souled people, as with narrow-necked
  bottles: the less they have in them, the
  more noise they make in pouring out.

        POPE, _Thoughts on Various Subjects_.


  One privilege to man is left--
    The privilege of earning
  The doss that pays the weekly bills.

        H. CHOLMONDELEY PENNELL, _Pegasus Resaddled_.


  _Happy thought._--"Fridoline!" I have her
  permission to call her Fridoline.

  Happy thoughts! Happy thoughts!! Happy
  thoughts!!!

  I think I am speaking: she speaks: we speak
  together. A pause. Oh, for one happy thought, now.

  "May I?" Her head is turned away from me:
  slightly. She does not move. "I may?"

  _Happy Thought._--I do.

        F. C. BURNAND, _Happy Thoughts_.




  INDEX.


  A.

  Absence an element of charm, 236

  Actress, an inanimate, 59

  _Adam Bede_, quoted, 11, _et seq._

  Adam's language, 27

  Advice, Pope on giving, 87

  Agreeable person, an, 6

  Ailing and ale-ing, 227

  Albemarle, Lord, quoted, 32, _et seq._

  Alderman, on an, 180

  Alderson, Baron, on Lord Campbell, 194

  Aldrich, Dean, quoted, 229

  _Alice in Wonderland_, quoted, 7, _et seq._

  "A little backer," 175

  "All Gaul is quartered," 253

  "All my eye," 41, 93

  All Saints, 106

  Allsopp's ale, 152

  "All the souls that were," 97

  Altruism, Mallock on, 167

  Alvanley, Lord, _mot_ by, 67

  "Always seem to be modest," 253

  _Amours de Voyage_, quoted, 59

  "Anecdotage," 43, 107

  Animals, George Eliot on, 41, 102

  _Anti-Jacobin, the_, quoted, 33

  "Ape in the days that were earlier," 43

  "Ape with pliable thumb," 17

  Aristocracy, the, Phoebus on, 170

  Aristocratic poets, 223

  Arnold, Matthew, on, 123

  _Art de Parvenir, L'_, quoted, 231

  Art-Unions, Hood on, 3

  Ashburton, Lady, _mots_ by, 30, _et seq._

  Ashby-Sterry, J., quoted, 22, _et seq._

  _Aspen Court_, quoted, 5

  Atalanta, on, 188

  Athanasian Creed, the, 89

  Austin, Alfred, quoted, 19, _et seq._


  B.

  _Bab Ballads_, quoted, 105, _et seq._

  Bagehot, Walter, _mots_ by, 84, _et seq._

  Bailey, Philip James, quoted, 26

  Balbus, 103

  _Ballades in Blue China_, quoted, 20, _et seq._

  Balls and operas, on, 239

  Balzac, quoted, 4, _et seq._

  Bancroft, Thomas, quoted, 228

  Barham, R. H., quoted, 12, _et seq._

  Barrington, Sir Jonah, quoted, 28

  Barry, Redmond, _mot_ by, 36

  Bass's beer, 125

  Baxter, Rose, and Norton, 66

  Beaconsfield, Lord, quoted, 6, _et seq._

  Bean, the, Warner on, 184

  Bears, Locker on, 23

  "Beautiful soup," 238

  Beazley, Samuel, _mots_ by, 51, _et seq._

  "Beer, such power hath," 235

  _Beppo_, quoted, 21

  Berkeley, Grantley, quoted, 142

  _Biglow Papers, the_, quoted, 30, _et seq._

  _Billee Taylor_, quoted, 127, _et seq._

  Bills, Christmas, 256

  ----, weekly, 202, 264

  Bishops, Alvanley on, 129

  "Bisness first," 15

  Black, a great fact, 5

  Blackie, Professor, quoted, 45, _et seq._

  "Bloom of ugliness, the," 195

  "Blossom of hawthorn," 25

  Blows, George Eliot on, 137

  Blue-stockings, on, 9

  _Bon Gaultier Ballads_, quoted, 71, _et seq._

  "Books are fatal," 52

  Books, reading new, 221

  Boredom, the secret of, 34

  Bores, Lady Ashburton on, 30

  _Boudoir Ballads_, quoted, 22, _et seq._

  Boyd, Mark, quoted, 56, _et seq._

  Bramston, John, quoted, 48

  Braxfield, Lord, anecdote of, 133

  "Break, break, break!" 213

  _Breitmann Ballads_, quoted, 86, _et seq._

  Bright, John, Professor Blackie on, 204

  Brighton, Collins on, 84;
    Ashby Sterry on, 211

  _British Birds, the_, quoted, 21, _et seq._

  Broad church, the, 36

  "Broken English," 136

  Brooks, Shirley, quoted, 5, _et seq._

  Brown, to Lady, 214

  Browne, C. F. _See_ Ward, Artemus.

  ----, J. Jemmett, quoted, 5, _et seq._

  Brummell, _mot_ by, 69

  Buckle, Professor Blackie on, 127

  Burnand, F. C., quoted, 88, _et seq._

  Busby, Dr., anecdote of, 150

  Business, described, 8

  Buxton, Charles, quoted, 27, _et seq._

  Byron, H. J., quoted, 10, _et seq._

  ----, Lord, quoted, 7, _et seq._;
    _mot_ by, 62


  C.

  Callender, Miss, _mot_ on, 1

  Calverley, C. S., quoted, 5, _et seq._

  Campbell, Thomas, quoted, 231;
    Rogers on, 35

  Candide, Byron on, 216

  Cannon, _mot_ by, 135

  "Cannot have everything," 63

  Cappadocians, on the, 4

  _Careless Husband, the_, quoted, 1

  Carey, Henry, quoted, 11, _et seq._

  Carlyle, on, 180

  _Carols of Cockayne_, quoted, 44, _et seq._

  Carroll, Lewis, quoted, 7, _et seq._

  Castlereagh, Lord, _mot_ by, 34

  Catch, light-fingered, 135

  Cayley, G. J., quoted, 80, _et seq._

  Celebrity, Chamfort on, 13

  Cerberus, H. J. Byron on, 228

  Ceremony, 149

  Chambermaids, Mark Twain on, 124

  Chamfort, quoted, 13, _et seq._

  Character, on, 140

  _Characteristics_, Hazlitt's, quoted, 15, _et seq._

  Charron, quoted, 174

  Chatterton, Lady, quoted, 93

  Chelmsford, Lord, _mot_ by, 142

  Chesterfield, Lord, quoted, 53, _et seq._

  Children, Dudley Warner on, 154

  China, blue, 149

  China-buying, 240

  Chloe, Mortimer Collins's, 216

  Chloris, to, 240

  Chorley, H. F., quoted, 2, _et seq._

  Christ Church "Marriage," 193

  _Chrononhotonthologos_, quoted, 11, _et seq._

  Churches as dormitories, 236

  Cibber, Colley, quoted, 1

  Clergy, the, and hoeing, 200

  Close-fist's subscription, 194

  Clough, A. H., quoted, 6, _et seq._

  "Coach, coach, coach!" 11

  Cockney, the, 173

  "Cognac," Byron on, 259

  Coleridge, S. T., quoted, 76, _et seq._

  _Collection of Epigrams_, quoted, 3, _et seq._

  College life, 166

  Collins, Mortimer, quoted, 21, _et seq._

  _Comic Poets_, quoted, 57, _et seq._

  Companies, Thurlow on, 72

  Company, our own, 225

  Compliments, 60, 188

  Compton's _Life_, quoted, 14, _et seq._;
    _mots_ by, 55, _et seq._

  _Conceits, Clinches_, etc., quoted, 232, _et seq._

  Congreve, William, quoted, 12, _et seq._

  Conscience, Mallock on, 108;
    Byron on, 116

  Constancy, Vauvenargues on, 65

  Constant, Benjamin, _mot_ by, 230

  Contentment, Holmes on, 24

  Cork, Lady, anecdote of, 131

  "Cornet waltzes, a," 54

  Cornopean, the amateur, 173

  Courage, drunken, on, 228

  Courthope, W. J., quoted, 153

  Courtship and marriage, 178

  Cowden Clarke, Mrs., quoted, 78

  Crawley, Richard, quoted, 36

  Critics, the, 202

  Croly, George, quoted, 188

  Croquet, advice on, 224

  Cunningham, John, quoted, 180

  Curiosity only vanity, 240

  Curran, _mots_ by, 29, _et seq._

  "Cursed be the whole concern," 191


  D.

  Daddy Longlegs, Whately on, 90

  Damnation, preaching, 30

  Darwin, on, 8, 180

  Daughter, an obstinate, 37

  Davies, Scrope, quoted, 130

  Deshoulières, Madame, quoted, 37

  _Devil's Walk, the_, quoted, 36

  _Diary_, Crabb Robinson's, quoted, 24, _et seq._

  ---- Greville's, quoted, 129

  ----, Moore's, quoted, 9, _et seq._

  ----, W. C. Macready's, quoted, 75, _et seq._

  ----, Young's, quoted, 4, _et seq._

  Dickens, Charles, quoted, 15, _et seq._

  Dinner, after, 185

  Dinner-bell, Lord Byron on the, 7

  _Dipsychus_, quoted, 163

  "Dirty-two," 82

  "_Dis_contents, the," 21

  Dobson, Austin, quoted, 11, _et seq._

  Domestic woman, a, 198

  Donaldson, Dr., _mots_ by, 24, _et seq._

  _Don Juan_, quoted, 7, _et seq._

  Donne, Dr., quoted, 48;
    _mot_ by, 212

  "Don't Care," Helps on, 13

  D'Orsay, Count, _mots_ by, 184, _et seq._

  _Double Dealer, the_, quoted, 12

  Drake, Dr., _mot_ by, 36

  "Draw it mild," 219

  Drawing on wood, 7

  Dress, Vigo on, 222

  Drinking, reasons for, 229

  Dudley, Lord, Castlereagh on, 34;
    _mot_ by, 241

  _Duenna, the_, quoted, 37

  Dumas _fils_, quoted, 87

  Dust and disease, 78

  "Dust of an earthy to-day, the," 261

  Duty, Clough on, 6

  Dying boy, the, 251


  E.

  Early rising, Saxe on, 122;
    Hood on, 195

  Eater, on a small, 226

  Edinburgh, Hannay on, 116

  Eliot, George, quoted, 6, _et seq._

  Ellenborough, Lord, _mot_ by, 84

  Emerson, R. W., quoted, 47

  _Endymion_, Lord Beaconsfield's, 80, _et seq._

  _English Epigrams_, quoted, 10, _et seq._

  ---- language, the, 32, 60

  "Entirely within their province," 244

  _Epigram in Distich_, quoted, 85

  Episcopal office, Sydney Smith on, 192

  Equality, on, 45

  _Eugene Aram_, quoted, 152

  Evans, Anne, quoted, 49, _et seq._

  Evening dress, on ladies', 174

  ---- newspapers, 241

  "Every-day young man, an," 263

  Eye-glass, on the, 164


  F.

  _Fable for critics, a_, quoted, 178

  False love's quirk, 230

  Fanshawe, Catherine M., quoted, 256

  Fashion, Lytton on, 18

  Feeding a cold, 42

  _Felix Holt_, quoted, 26

  Felons and their "innocent enjoyment," 241

  _Festus_, quoted, 26

  Fiddler, on a bad, 3

  Fielding, Henry, quoted, 56

  Fields, J. T., quoted, 14, _et seq._

  _Fifty years of my life_, quoted, 32, _et seq._

  Fine lady, a, Pope on, 42

  "First men of the century," 185

  Fitzgerald, Edward, quoted, 262

  Flattery, Vauvenargues on, 95

  _Fly-leaves_, quoted, 15, _et seq._

  Fools, Hazlitt on, 143

  Foote, _mots_ by, 211, _et seq._

  "Forever," 142

  Fortune, on, 251

  Forty year, 197

  "Forty years long," 156

  "Found it advisable," 57

  "Four by honours," 33

  Franklin, Mark Twain on, 178

  Fraser, Professor, quoted, 247

  Free-thinking, 113

  "Free to confess," 47

  Freeman, Mr., on, 242

  ----, Thomas, quoted, 196

  "Friend, go thy way," 155

  Friends and ripe fruit, 79

  ----, Hazlitt on, 106

  _---- in Council_, quoted, 13, _et seq._

  ----, Old, Selden on, 11

  French, the, Harness on, 38

  ---- and English, 210

  Froude and Kingsley, 111

  Fuller, Francis, quoted, 173

  Funny man, a, 30


  G.

  Galla, Haryngton on, 225

  "Gardener's rule, this," 248

  Garnett, Richard, quoted, 60, _et seq._

  Gay, John, quoted, 240

  Genus, 111

  "Georgium Any-sidus," 99

  German language, the, 237

  "Gift of the gab," 74

  Gilbert, W. S., quoted, 14, _et seq._

  _Gilfil's love story_, quoted, 41

  Gillon, Joseph, _mot_ by, 141

  Good little girls, 115

  "Good not the word," 55

  Good people, Locker on, 204

  Grapes and gripes, on, 155

  Gratitude, popular, 189

  Graves, Richard, quoted, 225

  Greville, Charles, quoted, 129

  Gronow's _Recollections_, quoted, 10, _et seq._

  _Guesses at Truth_, quoted, 5, _et seq._


  H.

  "Halidame, by thy," 257

  Hamilton, Sir John, _mot_ by, 28

  Hannay, James, quoted, 23, _et seq._

  _Happy Thoughts_, quoted, 88, _et seq._

  Harness, William, _mot_ by, 38

  Harrison, W. H., quoted, 38, _et seq._

  Harte, Bret, quoted, 80, _et seq._

  Haryngton, Sir John, quoted, 225

  Hay, John, quoted, 13, _et seq._

  Haydon, B. R., quoted, 4, _et seq._

  Hayward, Abraham, quoted, 3, _et seq._

  Hazlitt, William, quoted, 15, _et seq._

  Heath, Robert, quoted, 201

  "Hegel's modest formula," 53

  Heine, Heinrich, quoted, 126, _et seq._

  Helps, Sir Arthur, quoted, 13, _et seq._

  _Heptalogia, the_, quoted, 250

  "Heureux plafond," 85

  Hicks, epigrams by, 2, _et seq._

  _High Life Below Stairs_, quoted, 37

  Hill, Aaron, quoted, 205

  _H.M.S. Pinafore_, quoted, 56

  Holmes, Oliver Wendell, quoted, 24, _et seq._

  Holland, Lord, epigram by, 51

  "Home they brought," 200

  Hood, Thomas, quoted, 3, _et seq._;
    anecdotes of, 155, _et seq._

  Hook, Theodore, _mots_ by, 2, _et seq._

  _Horace at Athens_, quoted, 32, _et seq._

  _---- in London_, quoted, 34

  _Horse and Foot_, quoted, 36

  House of Commons, on, 160

  "How doth the little crocodile," 118

  Hugman, R., quoted, 92

  Hugo, Victor, Heine on, 151

  Humility, Selden on, 48

  Hunt, Leigh, quoted, 228

  _Hunting of the Snark, the_, quoted, 22, _et seq._

  Husband, an intemperate, 65

  ----, the desire of a, 177

  "Hyam to Moses," 19

  _Hyperion_, quoted, 117

  Hypocrite, a, 148


  I.

  "I and non-I," 246

  "I loiter down," 162

  "I make the butter fly," 32

  _Idylls and Epigrams_, quoted, 60, _et seq._

  Ignorance, blessed, 201

  ----, Felix Holt on, 199

  Immorality, present day, 92

  Impositions of mankind, 263

  Incapable person, on an, 252

  _Ingoldsby Lyrics_, quoted, 12, _et seq._

  Insolence, 12

  Intentions, good, 91

  Irving, Washington, _mot_ by, 4


  J.

  Jabberwock, The, 220

  _Janet's Repentance_, quoted, 96

  Jeaffreson, J. C., quoted, 85

  Jekyll, _mot_ by, 26

  Jenkins, Mrs., quoted, 171

  Jenner, lines on, 6

  Jerdan, William, quoted, 135

  Jerrold, Douglas, _mot_ by, 14

  "John P. Robinson, he," 30

  Johnson, Dr., quoted, 50

  "Juliet was a fool," 53

  "Jure mariti," 57

  Juxtaposition, Clough on, 113


  K.

  Kean, B. Smith and, 9

  "Keep all you have," 17

  Kemble, Fanny, quoted, 1, _et seq._

  _Kenelm Chillingly_, quoted, 39

  Kenny, _mot_ by, 156

  "Kill him where he is," 147

  _King Arthur_, quoted, 17

  Kingsley and Froude, 111

  Knowles, Sheridan, anecdotes of, 9, _et seq._


  L.

  _Ladies in Parliament_, quoted, 13, _et seq._

  Ladies' accomplishments, on, 132

  _Lady of Lyons, the_, quoted, 130

  Lafayette, Heine on, 227

  Lake poets, the, 130

  Lamb, Charles, _mots_ by, 22, _et seq._

  Landor, Walter Savage, quoted, 64, _et seq._

  Lang, Andrew, quoted, 20, _et seq._

  La Rochefoucauld, quoted, 20, _et seq._

  _Las Alforgas_, quoted, 160

  Latest Decalogue, the, 218

  _Latter-Day Lyrics_, quoted, 101

  Laughter, Byron on, 96

  "Lays of now-a-days," 67

  Leigh, H. S., quoted, 44, _et seq._

  Leland, C. G., quoted, 86, _et seq._

  _Letters to Julia_, quoted, 39

  Lettuce and conversation, 169

  Life described, 203

  Lindsay, Lady Charlotte, _mots_ by, 70, _et seq._

  Lingendes, Jean de, quoted, 151

  _Literary Gazette, the_, quoted, 97

  "Literature suited to desolate islands", 178

  "Little Billee," quoted, 217

  "Little knowledge, a," 95

  "Livy was Tacitus," 122

  Locker, Frederick, quoted, 8, _et seq._

  Lockhart, J. G., quoted, 141

  London, Morris on, 4

  _---- Lyrics_, quoted, 8, _et seq._

  Longfellow, quoted, 117

  "Look to settlements," 145

  _Lothair_, quoted, 6, _et seq._

  Lot's wife, Hicks on, 2

  Love and marriage, 31, 99, 159, 168

  ---- and wisdom, 174

  ----, Chamfort on, 55

  ----, Corporal Bunting on, 152

  ----, first and second, 195

  ----, first, Bernal on, 112

  _---- for Love_, quoted, 77

  ---- -letters, 158

  "---- levels all," 239

  ---- -making, Balzac on, 4

  ----, manifestations of, 127

  ---- song, by H. Smith, 18

  "Lovely woman, lump of folly," 184

  "Love's but a dance," 27

  Lowell, J. R., quoted, 30, _et seq._

  Lucilius, quoted, 208

  Luck, good and bad, 150

  "Luke-warm," 117

  Luttrell, Henry, _mots_ by, 23, _et seq._;
    quoted, 39

  Lying and good breeding, 77

  _Lyra Urbanica_, quoted, 4, _et seq._

  Lytton, Lord, quoted, 8, _et seq._


  M.

  "Macadamnable," 254

  Macaulay, Lord, quoted, 2, _et seq._

  MacCulloch, _mot_ by, 219

  Mackay, Charles, quoted, 68

  _Macmillan's Magazine_, quoted, 33, _et seq._

  Macready, W. C., quoted, 75

  Magnanimity, Hazlitt on, 15

  "Maidens of the mart," 19

  Mallock, W. H., quoted, 46, _et seq._

  Man of business, the, 75

  _---- of Taste, the_, quoted, 48

  Man's end, 30

  _Margaret Percival_, quoted, 15

  Marie-Louise, 227

  Marriage, Shirley Brooks on, 55;
    Mrs. Steele on, 58;
    Selden on, 71, 95;
    Chamfort on, 79

  Martial, in London, 169;
    quoted, 221

  Matrimony, Heine on, 171

  Matter, the laws of, 46

  _Maximes_, Chamfort's, quoted, 13, _et seq._

  Men, George Eliot on, 249

  Men's nature, Buxton on, 27

  Mendelssohn, anecdote of, 133

  Meredith, George, quoted, 31

  Merit, how treated, 28

  Merry Wives of Windsor, the, 186

  _Middlemarch_, quoted, 21, _et seq._

  Middleton, Lord, anecdote of, 172

  _Mill on the Floss, the_, quoted, 17, _et seq._

  Mind and Matter, Neaves on, 140

  Minorities, the rights of, 208

  _Mistura Curiosa_, quoted, 147, _et seq._

  Mitford, Miss, quoted, 67, _et seq._

  "Mixture as before, the," 244

  _Modern Love_, quoted, 31

  _Money_, quoted, 60

  ----, Clough on, 163

  Monk Lewis, anecdote of, 54

  Montrond, _mots_ by, 168, _et seq._

  Moore, Thomas, quoted, 9, _et seq._

  Morality, H. Smith on, 51

  Mormons, on the, 197

  Morris, Charles, quoted, 4, _et seq._

  "Most music-hall," 243

  Mothers-in-law, 146, 247

  _Musa Burschicosa_, quoted, 45, _et seq._

  "My Lord," 183

  _My Summer in a Garden_, quoted, 47, _et seq._


  N.

  Narrow-souled people, 264

  Neaves, Lord, quoted, 8, _et seq._

  Neilson, Miss, on, 67

  "Never read," 89

  Newell, R. H., quoted, 26, _et seq._

  Newgate Windows, on, 229

  _New Paul and Virginia_, quoted, 46, _et seq._

  _---- Republic, the_, quoted, 92, _et seq._

  Newspapers, Lord Beaconsfield on, 152

  Nice, on the word, 229

  North, Lord, _mot_ by, 67

  Northern lights, on, 58

  _Notes of thought_, quoted, 27, _et seq._

  "Nothing is, and nothing's not," 53

  "---- new," 47

  "---- particular on my mind," 40

  Novel, A Nutshell, 119

  ----, a sensation, described, 93

  November, Planché on, 203

  Number One, Lytton on, 50


  O.

  O'Connell, Morgan John, _mot_ by, 70

  _Old Bachelor, the_, quoted, 178

  _Old Times and Distant Places_, quoted, 34

  Oliphant, Lawrence, quoted. 35, _et seq._

  _Once a Week_, quoted, 9, _et seq._

  Onion, the, 47

  "---- is strength," 105

  Orange, the, 156

  _Orpheus C. Kerr Papers_, quoted, 26, _et seq._

  Original sin, 231

  Outram, George, quoted, 179

  Overbury, Sir Thomas, quoted, 104

  _Owl, the_, quoted, 64


  P.

  Palladas, quoted, 59, _et seq._

  _Pall Mall Gazette, the_, quoted, 53, _et seq._

  Palmerston, Lord, _mot_ by, 85

  _Paradise of Birds, the_, quoted, 153

  "_Parcus_ deorum cultor," 73

  Parr, Dr., Basil Montague on, 129

  Pascal, quoted, 240

  _Patchwork_, quoted, 45, _et seq._

  _Patience_, quoted, 88, _et seq._

  Patrons' promises, Lord Holland on, 51

  _Paul Clifford_, quoted, 8

  Peel, Sir Robert, _mot_ by, 111

  _Pelham_, quoted, 18

  Pennell, H. Cholmondeley, quoted, 16, _et seq._

  _Pensées_, Pascal's, quoted, 240

  Permissive Bill, the, 203

  "Personal" and "real," 32

  _Phantasmagoria_, quoted, 85, _et seq._

  Phoebe, to, 187

  Phryne, Donne on, 48

  _Physiologie du Mariage_, quoted, 4, _et seq._

  _Piccadilly_, quoted, 35, _et seq._

  "Pickle your lordship!" 247

  Picnic party, a, 15, 86

  Pictures, seeing, 151

  Piety and cooking, 112

  _Pirates of Penzance, the_, quoted, 58

  "Plain leg of mutton," 55

  Planché, J. R., quoted, 9, _et seq._

  Pleasing, the art of, 31

  Pleasure of not going to church, the, 254

  Pleasures of the people, the, 234

  Plunket, _mots_ by, 32, _et seq._

  _Poems and Music_, quoted, 49, _et seq._

  _Poetical Farrago, the_, quoted, 154

  Poets' meaning, Byron on, 21

  Poisoners, social, 110

  "Policeman's lot, the," 209

  Pommery Gréno, 193

  Poole, _mot_ by, 161

  Poor relations, George Eliot on, 43

  Pope, Alexander, quoted, 42, _et seq._

  Popular man, a, 122

  Positivists, the, Collins on, 108, 138

  Poverty, on, 85;
    the ancients on, 8

  Practical man, a, 49

  "Practising all night," 35

  Praed, W. M., quoted, 128

  Praise, La Rochefoucauld on, 20

  Preaching, Baron Alderson on, 174

  Preoccupied man, a, 129

  Presbyterian singing, 215

  Pride of talent, 73

  "Priest's orders," 61

  Prigs, 120

  Prima donna, the, and stout, 5

  Primitive man, Lang on, 20

  ---- tongue, the, 49

  Princess-robe, the, 84

  Privileged person, a, 250

  "Pro conibus calidis," 68

  Procter, Bryan Waller, quoted, 35

  Property in England, 165

  Prophecy, a mistake, 239

  Prospectus, 41

  _Proverbs in Porcelain_, quoted, 27, _et seq._

  Public dinners, Helps on, 44

  Public-house, on a, 90

  _Puck on Pegasus_, quoted, 16, _et seq._

  _Punch_, quoted, 228, _et seq._

  Punsters, Lamb on, 246

  Pygmalion, on, 5


  Q.

  _Question d'Argent, la_, quoted, 87


  R.

  Radical, on a certain, 215

  ---- reformer, on a, 23

  Rank and trade, on, 5

  Recognition, the, 183

  _Recollections_, Berkeley's, quoted, 142

  ----, Gronow's, quoted, 10, _et seq._

  ----, Mackay's, quoted, 68, _et seq._

  ----, Planché's, quoted, 9, _et seq._

  _Record of a Girlhood_, quoted, 1, _et seq._

  Reece, Robert, quoted, 57, _et seq._

  _Réflexions_, Deshoulières', quoted, 37

  ----, La Rochefoucauld's, 20, _et seq._

  ----, Vauvenargues', quoted, 65, _et seq._

  Reliable, on the word, 170

  Religion, Selden on, 176

  ---- of humanity, the, 242

  _Reminiscences_, Boyd's, quoted, 56, _et seq._

  ----, Teignmouth's, 36, _et seq._

  Repentance, La Rochefoucauld on, 59;
    Hazlitt on, 60

  Retz, Cardinal de, quoted, 96

  Reynolds, Hamilton, _mot_ by, 133

  _Richelieu_, quoted, 76

  "Rise up, cold reverend," 83

  Robinson, Crabb, quoted, 24, _et seq._

  Rogers, Samuel, quoted, 1, _et seq._;
    _mots_ by, 21, _et seq._

  Romances, Byron on, 177

  _Romola_, quoted, 6, _et seq._

  "Rose kissed me to-day," 48

  Rose, Sir George, _mots_ by, 33, _et seq._

  Rossini, anecdotes of, 76, _et seq._

  Routh, Dr., _mot_ by, 86

  "Rum and true religion," 159


  S.

  "Saddest when I sing," 16

  Safety in numbers, 98

  Saints and sinners, 81

  Salad, Mortimer Collins on, 236

  Satan a blunderer, 225

  Saunders and Otley, 94

  Savile Clarke, H., quoted, 125, _et seq._

  Sawyer, William, quoted, 65, _et seq._

  Saxe, John Godfrey, quoted, 10, _et seq._

  Scandal, on, 196

  Scotch economy, 40

  Scotch tunes, 152

  Scotch weather, on, 205

  _Season, the_, quoted, 19, _et seq._

  Sègur, Comte de, quoted, 87

  Selden, John, quoted, 11, _et seq._

  Self-satisfaction, 235

  Sensible men, the religion of, 146

  Sermons, stolen, 258, 259

  "Sermons and soda-water," 150

  Sewell, Miss, quoted, 15

  "Shade over, a," 226

  Shakespeare, quoted, 10

  Shelburne, Lord, _mot_ by, 159

  Shenstone, William, quoted, 44, _et seq._

  Sheridan, R. B., quoted, 37;
    _mot_ by, 65

  "Shickspur," 37

  _Shotover Papers, the_, quoted, 83, _et seq._

  Sidey, J. A., quoted, 147

  Sinclair, Archdeacon, quoted, 34

  "Sing for the garish eye," 14

  Singer, on a bad, 76

  "Singing singers, the," 87

  _Sketches and Characters_, quoted, 23, _et seq._

  Smith, Horace, quoted, 18, _et seq._;
    _mot_ by, 25

  ----, James, _mot_ by, 213;
    quoted, 34, _et seq._

  ----, Robert, _mots_ by, 2, _et seq._

  ----, Sydney, _mots_ by, 1, _et seq._

  Societies, Chesterfield on, 208

  Society, a state of war, 231

  Society, two classes in, 120

  _Songs and Poems_, Planché's, quoted, 75, _et seq._

  _Songs and Verses_, Neaves's, quoted, 8, _et seq._

  _---- of many Seasons_, quoted, 5, _et seq._

  _---- of Singularity_, quoted, 32, _et seq._

  _Sorcerer, the_, quoted, 61

  Southesk, Lord, quoted, 230

  Speculation, George Eliot on, 52

  ---- and peculation, 210

  "Splendid shilling, the," 260

  Squinted, on one who, 207

  Steele, Mrs. A. C., quoted, 5, _et seq._

  Stephens, H. P., quoted, 127, _et seq._

  Stuart Mill on Mind and Matter, 140

  Stupid people, on, 179

  Stupidity, Heine on, 159

  Suckling, Sir John, quoted, 98

  Sunday dismality, 123

  Swift, Jonathan, quoted, 49, _et seq._


  T.

  _Table Talk_, Selden's, quoted, 11, _et seq._

  Tailors, Overbury on, 104

  "Take him for half and half," 68

  Talleyrand, _mot_ by, 10

  Teignmouth, Lord, quoted, 36, _et seq._

  Temper, on losing, 138

  "Tender ten," 53

  Tennyson, Alfred, quoted, 148;
    anecdote of, 132

  ----, after, 260

  Thackeray, _mots_ by, 46, _et seq._;
    quoted, 55

  Theatrical nuisance, on a, 220

  Theophilus, Rogers on, 1

  Theory, a favourite, 248

  Thurlow, Lord, _mot_ by, 72

  "Tide of time, the," 107

  Tierney, _mot_ by, 136

  Time, on, 253

  _Tin Trumpet, the_, quoted, 18, _et seq._

  "Tommy Onslow", 46

  Tom Thumb, 258

  _Tom Thumb_, quoted, 56

  "Too much--too much," 136

  "To sniggle or to dibble," 175

  "To urn or not to urn," 65

  Town and country, 128

  Townshend, Henry, quoted, 130

  Tradition, George Eliot on, 76

  Tragedies and comedies, 124

  Trapp, Dr., epigram on, 154

  Traveller, the, and the gorilla, 60

  Travelling, on, 180

  Trevelyan, G. O., quoted, 13, _et seq._

  _Trial by Jury_, quoted, 43

  "Trifles," on, 214

  Turner, Godfrey, quoted, 20

  Turnips, Mark Twain on, 19

  Twain, Mark, quoted, 19, _et seq._

  'Twas ever thus, 198

  Tweeddale, Lady, story of, 2

  _Twelfth Night_, quoted, 10

  "Twinkle, twinkle, little bat," 97

  Tyndall, Professor, Collins on, 192


  U.

  Umbrellas, on, 240

  _University Magazine, the_, quoted, 38

  "Upper G., my," 139


  V.

  Vanity, 143, 116

  Vauvenargues, quoted, 65, _et seq._

  _Veiled Prophet, the_, parody on, 222

  Veracity, George Eliot on, 68

  _Verses and Translations_, quoted, 5, _et seq._

  "Vexation of spirit," 35

  _Vignettes in Rhyme_, quoted, 11, _et seq._

  Virtutem, in, 196

  "Voice of the lobster," 42

  Voltaire, quoted, 34;
    Charles Lamb on, 220


  W.

  Walpole, Horace, quoted, 2, _et seq._

  Walrus and the Carpenter, the, 158

  Ward, Artemus, quoted, 7, _et seq._

  Warner, Charles Dudley, quoted, 47, _et seq._

  Warrender, Sir George, story of, 239

  Washington, George, Mark Twain on, 185

  Water, Lord Neaves on, 181

  Weather, the clerk of the, 249

  Webbe, Egerton, quoted, 170

  "Wedlock is a sober thing," 262

  "Weed, the," Neaves on, 70

  Welsh language, the, 238

  Werther and Charlotte, 166

  Whiting and the snail, the, 7

  Whately, anecdotes of, 3, _et seq._

  _What will he do with it?_ quoted, 89, _et seq._

  "When other lips," 190

  "Whims and oddities," 3, _et seq._

  Whitings or shoeblacks, 256

  "Why the Dickens," 16

  Wife, a, 108

  "Wife who preaches, a," 135

  Wife's dress, a, 227

  "Wife's a widdy, his," 101

  "Wilcox or Gibbs?" 21

  _Wit and Humour_, Brooks's, quoted, 6, _et seq._

  Wit of a family, the, 257

  _Within an Ace_, quoted, 171

  Wives, on, 167

  Woman, a, with babbies, 196

  ---- before marriage, 245

  Woman's choice, 143

  ---- self-love, 163

  Women and a secret, 76

  ---- and books, 217, 130

  ---- and degrees, 104

  ---- and fact, 41

  ---- and flattery, 114, 132

  ---- and insincerity, 163

  ----, and men's happiness, 126

  ----, and men's praise, 126

  ---- and revenge, 54

  ---- and spite, 107

  ---- and their lovers, 13, 77

  ---- and wills, 92

  ----, and young and old, 120

  ---- as unionists, 151

  ----, Bartle Massey on, 175

  ----, Congreve on, 243

  ---- in a garden, 247

  ----, management of, 39

  ---- matched with men, 160

  ----, talkativeness of, 131

  ----, the two passions of, 125

  Women's conversation, 49

  ---- rights, 86

  ---- virtue, 135, 205

  Working by the hour, 139

  Working-man, the, 161

  _World, the_, quoted, 76

  Wraxall, Sir Nathaniel, quoted, 138

  Writing-master, on a left-handed, 173

  "Wus, ever wus," 78


  Y.

  Yates, Edmund, quoted, 106, _et seq._

  _Yesterdays with authors_, quoted, 14, _et seq._

  Young, Brigham, 157

  ----, J. C., quoted, 4, _et seq._

  ---- ladies of to-day, 137

  ---- men of to-day, 93


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