"Did he live about a thousand years before the Christian era?" said Amy.
"He did."
"It was the sweet Psalmist of Israel, David, son of Jesse, the Bethlehemite. Now, who is the man that long ago published a book of jests, said to be greatly studied now-a-days by diners-out and professed wits, and endlessly copied into other works of a similar character. His reputation is so high, that many anecdotes are called by his name. Who can he be?"
"Is it Punch?" said Lewis.
"How silly!" cried Harry, with the knowing look of a boy two years older: "Punch is a newspaper. Was it Hood?"
"No: do you all give it up?"
"Yes: we can't imagine who he can be."
"Joe Miller, of jesting memory."
"Now let us try another game," said Gertrude. "Of course, Cousin Mary has an endless store at her disposal."
"Let us try 'Elements,'" Mary answered. "I will throw my handkerchief at some one, calling out water, air, or earth; and the person who catches it must immediately name an animal living in or upon the element. But if I say fire, you must be silent. The answer should be given before I count ten; and then the one in possession of the handkerchief must throw it to another, carrying on the game. Any one who repeats an animal that has been already mentioned, pays a forfeit—except that I think forfeits are stupid things."