Part 9

LEXICOGRAPHER, n. A pestilent fellow who, under the pretense of recording some particular stage in the development of a language, does what he can to arrest its growth, stiffen its flexibility, and mechanize its methods. For your lexicographer, having written his dictionary, comes to be considered "as one having authority," whereas his function is only to make a record, not to give a law. The natural servility of the human understanding having invested him with judicial power, surrenders its right of reason and submits itself to a chronicle as if it were a statute. Let the dictionary (for example) mark a good word as "obsolete" or "obsolescent" and no man thereafter ventures to use it, whatever his need of it and however desirable its restoration to favor--whereby the process of impoverishment is accelerated and speech decays. On the contrary, the bold and discerning writer who, recognizing the truth that language must grow by innovation if it grow at all, makes new words and uses the old in an unfamiliar sense has no following and is tartly reminded that "it is n't in the dictionary"-- although down to the time of the first lexicographer (Heaven forgive him!) no author ever had used a word that was in the dictionary. In the golden prime and high noon of English speech; when from the lips of the great Elizabethans fell words that made their own meaning and carried it in their very sound; when a Shakespeare and a Bacon were possible, and the language now rapidly perishing at one end and slowly renewed at the other was in vigorous growth and hardy preservation--sweeter than honey and stronger than a lion--the lexicographer was a person unknown, the dictionary a creation which his Creator had not created him to create.

God said: "Let Spirit perish into Form," And lexicographers arose, a swarm! Thought fled and left her clothing, which they took And catalogued each garment in a book. Now, from her leafy covert when she cries: "Give me my clothes and I 'll return," they rise And scan the list, and say without compassion: "Excuse us--they are mostly out of fashion."

Sigismund Smith.

LIAR, n. A lawyer with a roving commission.

LIBERTY, n. One of Imagination's most precious possessions.

The rising People, hot and out of breath, Roared round the palace: "Liberty or death!" "If death will do," the King said, "let me reign; You 'll have, I 'm sure, no reason to complain."

Martha Braymance.

LICKSPITTLE, n. A useful functionary, not infrequently found editing a newspaper. In his character of editor he is closely allied to the blackmailer by the tie of occasional identity; for in truth the lickspittle is only the blackmailer under another aspect, though the latter is frequently found as an independent species. Lickspittling is more detestable than blackmailing, precisely as the business of a confidence man is more detestable than that of a highway robber; and the parallel maintains itself throughout, for whereas few robbers will cheat, every sneak will plunder if he dare.

LIFE, n. A spiritual pickle preserving the body from decay. We live in daily apprehension of its loss; yet when lost it is not missed. The question, "Is life worth living?" has been much discussed; particularly by those who think it is not, many of whom have written at great length in support of their view and by careful observance of the laws of health enjoyed for long terms of years the honors of successful controversy.

"Life's not worth living, and that 's the truth," Carelessly caroled the golden youth; And in manhood still he maintained that view And held it more strongly the older he grew. When kicked by a jackass at eighty-three, "Go fetch me a surgeon at once!" cried he.

Han Soper.

LIGHTHOUSE, n. A tall building on the seashore in which the government maintains a lamp and the friend of a politician.

LIMB, n. The branch of a tree or the leg of an American woman.

'T was a pair of boots that the lady bought. And the salesman laced them tight To a very remarkable height-- Higher, indeed, than I think he ought-- Higher than can be right. For the Bible declares--but never mind: It is hardly fit To censure freely and fault to find With others for sins that I 'm not inclined Myself to commit. Each has his weakness, and though my own Is freedom from every sin, It still were unfair to pitch in, Discharging the first censorious stone. Besides, the truth compels me to say, The boots in question were made that way. As he drew the lace she made a grimace, And blushingly said to him: "This boot, I 'm sure, is too high to endure, It hurts my--hurts my--limb." The salesman smiled in a manner mild, Like an artless, undesigning child; Then, checking himself, to his face he gave A look as sorrowful as the grave, Though he did n't care two figs For her pains and throes, As he stroked her toes, Remarking with speech and manner just Befitting his calling: "Madam, I trust That it does n't hurt your twigs."

G. Percival Doke.

LINEN, n. "A kind of cloth the making of which entails a great waste of hemp."--Calcraft the Hangman.

LITIGANT, n. A person about to give up his skin for the hope of retaining his bones.

LITIGATION, n. A machine which you go into as a pig and come out of as a sausage.

LIVER, n. A large red organ thoughtfully provided by nature to be bilious with. The sentiments and emotions which every literary anatomist now knows to haunt the heart were anciently believed to infest the liver; and even Gascoygne, speaking of the emotional side of human nature, calls it "our hepaticall parte." It was at one time considered the seat of life; hence its name--liver, the thing we live with. The liver is heaven's best gift to the goose; without it that bird would be unable to supply us with the Strasbourg pâté.

LL.D. Letters indicating the degree Legumptionis Doctor, one learned in the laws, gifted with legal gumption. Some suspicion is cast upon this derivation by the fact that the title was formerly ££. d. and conferred only upon gentlemen distinguished for their wealth. At the date of this writing Columbia University is considering the expediency of making another degree for clergymen, in place of the old D.D.--Damnator Diaboli. The new honor will be known as Sanctorum Custos, and written $$. c. The name of the Rev. John Satan has been suggested as a suitable recipient by a lover of consistency, who points out that Professor Harry Thurston Peck has long enjoyed the advantage of a degree.

LOCK-AND-KEY, n. The distinguishing device of civilization and enlightenment.

LODGER, n. A less popular name for the First Person of that delectable newspaper Trinity, the Roomer, the Bedder, and the Mealer.

LOGIC, n. The art of thinking and reasoning in strict accordance with the limitations and incapacities of the human misunderstanding. The basis of logic is the syllogism, consisting of a major and a minor premise and a conclusion--thus:

Major Premise: Sixty men can do a piece of work sixty times as quickly as one man.

Minor Premise: One man can dig a post-hole in sixty seconds; therefore-- Conclusion: Sixty men can dig a post-hole in one second.

This may be called the syllogism arithmetical, in which, by combining logic and mathematics, we obtain a double certainty and are twice blessed.

LORD, n. In American society, an English tourist above the state of a costermonger, as, Lord 'Aberdasher, Lord Hartisan, and so forth. The travelling Briton of lesser degree is addressed as "Sir," as, Sir 'Arry Donkiboi, of 'Amstead 'Eath. The word "Lord" is sometimes used, also, as a title of the Supreme Being; but this is thought to be rather flattery than true reverence.

Miss Sallie Ann Splurge, of her own accord, Wedded a wandering English lord-- Wedded and took him to dwell with her "paw," A parent who throve by the practice of Draw. Lord Cadde I don't hesitate here to declare Unworthy the father-in-legal care Of that elderly sport, notwithstanding the truth That Cadde had renounced the follies of youth; For, sad to relate, he 'd arrived at the stage Of existence that 's marked by the vices of age. Among them cupidity caused him to urge Repeated demands on the pocket of Splurge, Till, wrecked in his fortune, that gentleman saw Inadequate aid in the practice of Draw, And took, as a means of augmenting his pelf, To the business of being a lord himself. His neat-fitting garments he willfully shed And sacked himself strangely in checks instead; Denuded his chin, but retained at each ear A whisker that looked like a blasted career.

He painted his neck an incarnadine hue Each morning and varnished it all that he knew. The moony monocular set in his eye Appeared to be scanning the Sweet Bye-and-Bye. His head was enroofed with a billycock hat, And his low-necked shoes were aduncous and flat. In speech he eschewed his American ways, Denying his nose to the use of his A's And dulling their edge till the delicate sense Of a babe at their temper could take no offence. His H's--'t was most inexpressibly sweet, The patter they made as they fell at his feet! Re-outfitted thus, Mr. Splurge without fear Began as Lord Splurge his recouping career.

Alas, the Divinity shaping his end Entertained other views and decided to send His lordship in horror, despair, and dismay From the land of the nobleman's natural prey.

For, smit with his Old World ways, Lady Cadde Fell--suffering Caesar!--in love with her dad!

G. J.