Studies from the Study
Studies from the Study
First Student. Just my luck! I wired to the governor to send me £5 for some books.
Second Student. He refused?
First Student. No, he’s sent the books.
RETURNED—WITH THANKS.
“If you please, sir, master’s sent back the first volume, and he says, will you be so good as to let him ’ave the second?”
HUMOURS OF OUR LANGUAGE
(Or, MORE “POETS AT PLAY.”)
The anomalies of English spelling and pronunciation have many a time served our humorous writers with capital material for their rhymes. The following is one of the cleverest of the kind referred to:—
As a farmer was going to plough,
He met a man driving a cough,
They had words which led to a rough,
And the farmer was struck on his brough.
One day when the weather was rough,
An old lady went out for some snough,
Which she thoughtlessly placed in her mough,
And it got scattered all over her cough.
While a baker was kneading his dough,
A weight fell down on his tough,
When he suddenly exclaimed ough!
Because it had hurt him sough.
There was a hole in a hedge to get through,
It was made by no one knew whough;
In getting through a boy lost his shough,
And was quite at a loss what to dough.
A poor old man had a bad cough,
To a doctor he straight went ough,
The doctor did nothing but scough,
And said ’twas all fancy, his cough.
A QUEER CUT.
Well! Perhaps Messrs. Quarto, Canto, and Sons, the well known publishers, have some right to complain of the artist who sent in this as one of the illustrations for their forthcoming edition of Byron. The artist says it illustrates the line:
“Whacks to receive, and marble to retain.”
Beppo, stanza xxxiv.
Alliteration has long been a favourite target for the arrows of wits, though most of them are forced to acknowledge its “artful aid.” It requires a very considerable command of the English language, however, before a rhymester can concoct five quatrains in which every word commences with the same letter. This is the diverting composition here referred to; it is supposed to be a serenade sung by Major Marmaduke Muttonhead to Mademoiselle Madeline Mendoza Marriott—
My Madeline! My Madeline!
Mark my melodious midnight moans,
Much may my melting music mean,
My modulated monotones.
My mandoline’s mild minstrelsy,
My mental music magazine,
My mouth, my mind, my memory,
Must mingling murmur “Madeline.”
Mankind’s malevolence may make
Much melancholy music mine;
Many my motives may mistake,
My modest meritings malign.
Match-making mothers machinate,
Manœuvring misses me misween;
Mere money may make many mate,
My magic motto’s “Madeline.”
Melt most mellifluous melody
‘Midst Murcia’s misty mounts marine,
Meet me by moonlight—marry me,
Madonna mia—Madeline.
[THE GRAND MARCH OF INTELLECT.]
Librarian. You asked to see the catalogue of the letter P, sir? I’m sorry it’s not yet completed, sir, but I’ve brought you all there is, as far as it goes.
Depend upon it, the Catalogue of the British Museum is not a work for one time, but for all ages!
The following is another and more varied example of alliteration wilfully overdone—
With a splitter, splatter, splutter
And a gurgling in the gutter.
And a tinkle, tankle, tunkle on the shingle and the pane.
With a misty, murky mizziness,
Settling down to steady business,
Comes the dreary, drowsy, drooling of the dripping, dropping rain.
With a sizzle, sozzle, suzzle,
Buttoned upward to the muzzle,
The weary waiting walker drags his rubbers from the mud:
While the dizzy, dodging, dancing,
Of the umber-ella prancing,
Drives a man to lurid longings for some other fellow’s blood.
Oh, the breezy brooks may babble.
And the gentle poet dabble
In his veering vernal verses and fond memories they bring;
But no earthly rhyme or reason
Makes believe in such a season
That this wishy-washy weather is a cloudy ghost of spring.
These specimens may not be the best that can be quoted; I do not suppose they are, and should indeed be audacious were I to submit them as such. Addison’s assertion as to false wit will, no doubt, stand as firm as ever in the minds of most people after reading these notes on “The Poets at Play.” All that has been here attempted, and thus much perhaps the indulgent reader will grant, has been to show that there may be found in what the famous essayist would have us condemn as unworthy many characteristics of wit, humour, and ingenuity; and not only these, but examples of the patience and painstaking which are near allied to “genius.”
SUBJECT FOR A PICTURE—IRRITABLE GENTLEMAN DISTURBED BY A BLUEBOTTLE.