Part 8

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_.