"She is pretty to walk with,
And witty to talk with,
And pleasant, too, to think on."
First let us understand each other.
By the witty girl is not here meant the girl—if such a girl exists—whose conversation has the high brilliancy which characterises the conversation of certain men and women.
No. The thing here meant is nothing more than the common domestic wit-snapper, generally, say her enemies, more of a snapper than a wit, concerning which statement it is perhaps not unpermissible to say that he who makes it shows himself to be less a wit than a snapper.
While all but invariably of a character that loses much by the process of retailing, the wit of the girl here in view will sometimes bear being brought to book. The samples of it given in this paper are all authentic and heretofore unpublished. They do not, perhaps, reach a high standard of excellence, but they who know girls will concede that they are good girl-wit of the middle order.
Take a case like this: "My name is May. I feel I am reaching the age when I should be called Hawthorn."
Or take this: "Your mother will miss you when you marry."
"No—then she'll 'Mrs.' me."
Such jests are the bric-à-brac of home conversation, and make it pretty.
He who listens to the talk between girls and their brothers will sometimes hear a thing worth noting, in compensation for the many things not worth noting which—if the truth is to be told—he will also hear.