for I have no gift at torturing a coincidence, but I would lay twopence, if I could make a bet—which I never did in all my life—that some one or more of my readers will try it. Some people say that the study of chances tends to awaken a spirit of gambling: I suspect the contrary. At any rate, I myself, the writer of a mathematical book and a comparatively popular book, have never laid a bet nor played for a stake, however small: not one single time.
It is useful to record such instances as I have given, with precision and on the solemn word of the recorder. When such a story as that of Flamsteed is told, a priori assures us that it could not have been: the story may have been a ben trovato,[[99]] but not the bundle. It is also useful to establish some of the good jokes which all take for inventions. My friend Mr. J. Bellingham Inglis,[[100]] before 1800, saw the tobacconist's carriage with a sample of tobacco in a shield, and the motto Quid rides[[101]] (N. & Q., 3d S. i. 245). His father was able to tell him all about it. The tobacconist was Jacob Brandon, well known to the elder Mr. Inglis, and the person who started the motto, the instant he was asked for such a thing, was Harry Calender of Lloyd's, a scholar and a wit. My friend Mr. H. Crabb Robinson[[102]] remembers the King's Counsel (Samuel Marryat) who took the motto Causes produce effects, when his success enabled him to start a carriage.
The coincidences of errata are sometimes very remarkable: it may be that the misprint has a sting. The death of Sir W. Hamilton[[103]] of Edinburgh was known in London on a Thursday, and the editor of the Athenæum wrote to
me in the afternoon for a short obituary notice to appear on Saturday. I dashed off the few lines which appeared without a moment to think: and those of my readers who might perhaps think me capable of contriving errata with meaning will, I am sure, allow the hurry, the occasion, and my own peculiar relation to the departed, as sufficient reasons for believing in my entire innocence. Of course I could not see a proof: and two errata occurred. The words "addition to Stewart"[[104]] require "for addition to read edition of." This represents what had been insisted on by the Edinburgh publisher, who, frightened by the edition of Reid,[[105]] had stipulated for a simple reprint without notes. Again "principles of logic and mathematics" required "for mathematics read metaphysics." No four words could be put together which would have so good a title to be Hamilton's motto.
April 1850, found in the letter-box, three loose leaves, well printed and over punctuated, being
Chapter VI. Brethren, lo I come, holding forth the word of life, for so I am commanded.... Chapter VII. Hear my prayer, O generations! and walk by the way, to drink the waters of the river.... Chapter VIII. Hearken o earth, earth, earth, and the kings of the earth, and their armies....
A very large collection might be made of such apostolic writings. They go on well enough in a misty—meant for mystical—imitation of St. Paul or the prophets, until at last some prodigious want of keeping shows the education of the writer. For example, after half a page which might
pass for Irving's[[106]] preaching—though a person to whom it was presented as such would say that most likely the head and tail would make something more like head and tail of it—we are astounded by a declaration from the Holy Spirit, speaking of himself, that he is "not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ." It would be long before we should find in educated rhapsody—of which there are specimens enough—such a thing as a person of the Trinity taking merit for moral courage enough to stand where St. Peter fell. The following declaration comes next—"I will judge between cattle and cattle, that use their tongues."
THE FIGURE OF THE EARTH.
The figure of the earth. By J. L. Murphy,[[107]] of Birmingham. (London and Birmingham, 4 pages, 12mo.) (1850?)