MODERATE FLATTERY.
Jasper Mayne says of Master Cartwright, the author of tolerable comedies and poems, printed in 1651:—
“Yes, thou to Nature hadst joined art and skill;
In thee, Ben Jonson still held Shakspeare’s quill.”
EVERY-DAY LIFE OF JAMES SMITH.
“One of the Authors of the Rejected Addresses” thus writes to a friend:[2]—
“Let me enlighten you as to the general disposal of my time. I breakfast at nine, with a mind undisturbed by matters of business; I then write to you, or to some editor, and then read till three o’clock. I then walk to the Union Club, read the journals, hear Lord John Russell deified or diablerized, (that word is not a bad coinage,) do the same with Sir Robert Peel or the Duke of Wellington; and then join a knot of conversationists by the fire till six o’clock, consisting of lawyers, merchants, members of Parliament, and gentlemen at large. We then and there discuss the three per cent. consols, (some of us preferring Dutch two-and-a-half per cent.), and speculate upon the probable rise, shape, and cost of the New Exchange. If Lady Harrington happen to drive past our window in her landau, we compare her equipage to the Algerine Ambassador’s; and when politics happen to be discussed, rally Whigs, Radicals, and Conservatives alternately, but never seriously,—such subjects having a tendency to create acrimony. At six, the room begins to be deserted; wherefore I adjourn to the dining-room, and gravely looking over the bill of fare, exclaim to the waiter, ‘Haunch of mutton and apple tart.’ These viands despatched, with the accompanying liquids and water, I mount upward to the library, take a book and my seat in the arm-chair, and read till nine. Then call for a cup of coffee and a biscuit, resuming my book till eleven; afterwards return home to bed. If I have any book here which particularly excites my attention, I place my lamp on a table by my bed-side, and read in bed until twelve. No danger of ignition, my lamp being quite safe, and my curtains moreen. Thus ‘ends this strange eventful history,’ ” &c.
FRENCH-ENGLISH JEU-DE-MOT.
The celebrated Mrs. Thicknesse undertook to construct a letter, every word of which should be French, yet no Frenchman should be able to read it; while an illiterate Englishman or Englishwoman should decipher it with ease. Here is the specimen of the lady’s ingenuity:—