Part 6

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_.