The above will give you all an idea of how an anagram should be made. All are excellent specimens of American work—in fact, I am certain no better were ever composed. The puzzle column in this paper, I am sure, would publish some anagrams if my young readers will take the trouble to try and make them. Let us see who will have the first one published.
Before closing I wish to give you a treat, illustrating how a word can be twisted and twirled. It is from Maitland:
"'How much there is in a word—monastery,' says I. 'Why, that makes nasty Rome;' and when I looked at it again, it was more nasty—a very vile place, or mean sty.
"'Ay, monster,' says I, 'you are found out.'
"'What monster?' said the Pope.
"'What monster?' said I. 'Why, your own image there—stone Mary.'
"'That,' he replied, 'is my one star, my Stella Maria, my treasure, my guide.'
"'No,' said I, 'you should say my treason."
"'Yet no arms,' said he.
"'No,' quoth I; 'quiet may suit best, as long as you have no mastery—I mean money arts.'