JEUX-DE-MOTS.
SPIRITUAL.
A wag decides—
That whiskey is the key by which many gain an entrance into our prisons and almshouses.
That brandy brands the noses of all who cannot govern their appetites.
That wine causes many a man to take a winding way home.
That punch is the cause of many unfriendly punches.
That ale causes many ailings, while beer brings many to the bier.
That champagne is the source of many a real pain.
That gin-slings have “slewed” more than the slings of old.
That the reputation of being fond of cock-tails is not a feather in any man’s cap.
That the money spent for port that is supplied by portly gents would support many a poor family.
That porter is a weak supporter for those who are weak in body.
ANAGRAMMATIC.
The following sentence is said to be taken from a volume of sermons published during the reign of James I.:—
This dial shows that we must die all; yet notwithstanding, all houses are turned into ale houses; our cares into cates; our paradise into a pair o’ dice; matrimony into a matter of money, and marriage into a merry age; our divines have become dry vines: it was not so in the days of Noah,—ah! no.
ITERATIVE.
A clerical gentleman of Hartford, who once attended the House of Representatives to read prayers, being politely requested to remain seated near the speaker during the debate, found himself the spectator of an unmarrying process, so alien to his own vocation, and so characteristic of the readiness of the Legislature of Connecticut to grant divorces, that the result was the following impromptu:—
For cut-ting all connect-ions famed,
Connect-i-cut is fairly named;
I twain connect in one, but you
Cut those whom I connect in two.
Each legislator seems to say,
What you Connect I cut away.
Finn, the comedian, issued the following morceau upon the announcement of his benefit at the Tremont Theatre, Boston:—
Like a grate full of coals I burn,
A great, full house to see;
And if I should not grateful prove,
A great fool I should be.
A FAIR LETTER.
The following letter was received by a young lady at the post-office of a Fair held for the benefit of a church:—
Fairest of the Fair. When such fair beings as you have the fair-ness to honor our Fair with your fair presence, it is perfectly fair that you should receive good fare from the fair conductors of this Fair, and indeed it would be very un-fair if you should not fare well, since it is the endeavor of those whose wel-fare depends upon the success of this Fair, to treat all who come fair-ly, but to treat with especial fair-ness those who are as fair as yourself. We are engaged in a fair cause, a sacred war-fare; that is, to speak without un-fair-ness, a war-fare, not against the fair sex, but against the pockets of their beaux. We therefore hope, gentle reader, “still fairest found where all is fair,” that you will use all fair exertions in behalf of the praiseworthy af-fair which we have fair-ly undertaken. If you take sufficient interest in our wel-fare to lend your fair aid, you will appear fair-er than ever in our sight; we will never treat you un-fair-ly, and when you withdraw the light of your fair countenance from our Fair, we will bid you a kind Fare-well.
The following was written on the occasion of a duel in Philadelphia, several years ago:—
Schott and Willing did engage
In duel fierce and hot;
Schott shot Willing willingly,
And Willing he shot Schott.
The shot Schott shot made Willing quite
A spectacle to see;
While Willing’s willing shot went right
Through Schott’s anatomy.
WRITE WRITTEN RIGHT.
Write we know is written right,
When we see it written write;
But when we see it written wright,
We know it is not written right:
For write, to have it written right,
Must not be written right or wright,
Nor yet should it be written rite;
But write, for so ’tis written right.
TURN TO THE LEFT AS THE (ENGLISH) LAW DIRECTS.
The laws of the Road are a paradox quite:
For when you are travelling along,
If you keep to the LEFT you’re sure to be RIGHT,
If you keep to the RIGHT you’ll be WRONG.
I cannot bear to see a bear, bear down upon a hare,
When bare of hair he strips the hare, for hare I cry, “forbear!”
ON THE DEATH OF THE EARL OF KILDARE.
Who killed Kildare? Who dared Kildare to kill?
Death answers,—
I killed Kildare, and dare kill whom I will.
A CatALECTIC MONODY.
A cat I sing of famous memory,
Though catachrestical my song may be:
In a small garden catacomb she lies,
And cataclysms fill her comrades’ eyes;
Borne on the air, the catacoustic song
Swells with her virtues’ catalogue along;
No cataplasm could lengthen out her years,
Though mourning friends shed cataracts of tears.
Once loud and strong her catechist-like voice.
It dwindled to a catcall’s squeaking noise;
Most categorical her virtues shone,
By catenation joined each one to one;—
But a vile catchpoll dog, with cruel bite,
Like catling’s cut, her strength disabled quite;
Her caterwauling pierced the heavy air,
As cataphracts their arms through legions bear;
’Tis vain! as caterpillars drag away
Their lengths, like cattle after busy day,
She lingering died, nor left in kit kat the
Embodiment of this catastrophe.
NOVEMBER.
(The humorous lines of Hood are only applicable to the English climate, where the closing month of autumn is synonymous with fogs, long visages, and suicides.)
No sun—no moon!
No morn—no noon—
No dawn—no dusk—no proper time of day—
No sky—no earthly view—
No distance looking blue—
No roads—no streets—no t’other side the way—
No end to any row—
No indication where the crescents go—
No tops to any steeple—
No recognition of familiar people—
No courtesies for showing ’em—
No knowing ’em—
No travellers at all—no locomotion—
No inkling of the way—no motion—
‘No go’ by land or ocean—
No mail—no post—
No news from any foreign coast—
No park—no ring—no afternoon gentility—
No company—no nobility—
No warmth—no cheerfulness—no healthful ease—
No comfortable feel in any member—
No shade—no shine—no butterflies—no bees—
No fruits—no flowers—no leaves—no birds—
No-vember!
The name of that monster of brutality, Caliban, in Shakspeare’s Tempest, is supposed to be anagrammatic of Canibal, the old mode of spelling Cannibal.
A SWARM OF BEES.
B patient, B prayerful, B humble, B mild,
B wise as a Solon, B meek as a child;
B studious, B thoughtful, B loving, B kind;
B sure you make matter subservient to mind.
B cautious, B prudent, B trustful, B true,
B courteous to all men, B friendly with few.
B temperate in argument, pleasure, and wine,
B careful of conduct, of money, of time.
B cheerful, B grateful, B hopeful, B firm,
B peaceful, benevolent, willing to learn;
B courageous, B gentle, B liberal, B just,
B aspiring, B humble, because thou art dust;
B penitent, circumspect, sound in the faith,
B active, devoted; B faithful till death.
B honest, B holy, transparent, and pure;
B dependent, B Christ-like, and you’ll B secure.
THE BEES OF THE BIBLE.
Be kindly affectioned one to another.
Be sober, and watch unto prayer.
Be content with such things as ye have.
Be strong in the Lord.
Be courteous.
Be not wise in your own conceits.
Be not forgetful to entertain strangers.
Be not children in understanding.
Be followers of God, as dear children.
Be not weary in well-doing.
Be holy in all manner of conversation.
Be patient unto the coming of the Lord.
Be clothed with humility.
FRANKLIN’S “RE’S.”
Dr. Franklin, in England in the year 1775, was asked by a nobleman what would satisfy the Americans. He answered that it might easily be comprised in a few “Re’s,” which he immediately wrote on a piece of paper, thus:—
Re-call your forces.
Re-store Castle William.
Re-pair the damage done to Boston.
Re-peal your unconstitutional acts.
Re-nounce your pretensions to taxes.
Re-fund the duties you have extorted.
After this—
Re-quire, and
Re-ceive payment for the destroyed tea, with the voluntary grants of the Colonies; and then
Re-joice in a happy
Re-conciliation.
THE MISS-NOMERS.
After the manner of Horace Smith’s “Surnames ever go by contraries.”
Miss Brown is exceedingly fair,
Miss White is as brown as a berry;
Miss Black has a gray head of hair,
Miss Graves is a flirt ever merry;
Miss Lightbody weighs sixteen stone,
Miss Rich scarce can muster a guinea;
Miss Hare wears a wig, and has none,
And Miss Solomon is a sad ninny!
Miss Mildmay’s a terrible scold,
Miss Dove’s ever cross and contrary;
Miss Young is now grown very old,
And Miss Heavyside’s light as a fairy!
Miss Short is at least five feet ten,
Miss Noble’s of humble extraction;
Miss Love has a hatred towards men,
Whilst Miss Still is forever in action.
Miss Green is a regular blue,
Miss Scarlet looks pale as a lily;
Miss Violet ne’er shrinks from our view,
And Miss Wiseman thinks all the men silly!
Miss Goodchild’s a naughty young elf,
Miss Lyon’s from terror a fool;
Miss Mee’s not at all like myself,
Miss Carpenter no one can rule.
Miss Sadler ne’er mounted a horse,
While Miss Groom from the stable will run;
Miss Kilmore can’t look on a corse,
And Miss Aimwell ne’er levelled a gun;
Miss Greathead has no brains at all,
Miss Heartwell is ever complaining;
Miss Dance has ne’er been at a ball,
Over hearts Miss Fairweather likes reigning!
Miss Wright, she is constantly wrong,
Miss Tickell, alas! is not funny;
Miss Singer ne’er warbled a song,
And alas! poor Miss Cash has no money;
Miss Hateman would give all she’s worth,
To purchase a man to her liking;
Miss Merry is shocked at all mirth,
Miss Boxer the men don’t find striking!
Miss Bliss does with sorrow o’erflow,
Miss Hope in despair seeks the tomb;
Miss Joy still anticipates wo,
And Miss Charity’s never “at home!”
Miss Hamlet resides in the city,
The nerves of Miss Standfast are shaken;
Miss Prettyman’s beau is not pretty,
And Miss Faithful her love has forsaken!
Miss Porter despises all froth,
Miss Scales they’ll make wait, I am thinking;
Miss Meekly is apt to be wroth,
Miss Lofty to meanness is sinking;
Miss Seymore’s as blind as a bat,
Miss Last at a party is first;
Miss Brindle dislikes a striped cat,
And Miss Waters has always a thirst!
Miss Knight is now changed into Day,
Miss Day wants to marry a Knight;
Miss Prudence has just run away,
And Miss Steady assisted her flight;
But success to the fair,—one and all!
No miss-apprehensions be making;—
Though wrong the dear sex to miss-call,
There’s no harm, I should hope, in MISS-TAKING.
CROOKED COINCIDENCES.
A pamphlet published in the year 1703 has the following strange title: “The Deformity of Sin cured; a Sermon preached at St. Michael’s, Crooked-lane, before the Prince of Orange, by the Rev. J. Crookshanks. Sold by Matthew Denton, at the Crooked Billet near Cripple-gate, and by all other booksellers.” The words of the text are, “Every crooked path shall be made straight;” and the prince before whom it was preached was deformed in person.
THE COURT-FOOL’S PUN ON ARCHBISHOP LAUD.
Great praise to God, and little Laud to the devil.