Part 18 (1/2)
A lovely young lady I mourn in my rhymes: She was pleasant, good-natured, and civil sometimes.
Her figure was good: she had very fine eyes, And her talk was a mixture of foolish and wise.
Her adorers were many, and one of them said, ”She waltzed rather well! It's a pity she's dead!”
G. J. CAYLEY, in _Comic Poets_.
Anybody amuses me for once. A new acquaintance is like a new book. I prefer it, even if bad, to a cla.s.sic.
_Lady Montfort_, in LORD BEACONSFIELD's _Endymion_.
Now I hold it is not decent for a scientific gent To say another is an a.s.s,--at least, to all intent; Nor should the individual who happens to be meant Reply by heaving rocks at him to any great extent.
BRET HARTE, _Complete Works_.
Story of Edward Walpole, who, being told, one day at the ”Garrick,” that the confectioners had a way of discharging the ink from old parchment by a chemical process, and then making the parchment into isingla.s.s for their jellies, said, ”Then I find a man may now eat his deeds as well as his words.”
R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.
What is the spell that 'twixt a saint and sinner The diff'rence makes?--a sermon? Bah! a dinner.
ALFRED AUSTIN, _The Season_.
”I vent to the club this mornin', sir. There vorn't no letters, sir.” ”Very good, Topping.”
”How's missus, sir?” ”Pretty well, Topping.”
”Glad to hear it, sir. _My_ missus ain't very well, sir.” ”No!” ”No, sir, she's agoin', sir, to have a hincrease werry soon, and it makes her nervous, sir; and ven a young voman gets down at sich a time, sir, she goes down werry deep, sir.” To this sentiment I reply affirmatively, and then he adds, as he stirs the fire (as if he were thinking out loud), ”Wot a mystery it is! Wot a go is natur'!”
CHARLES d.i.c.kENS, _apud_ J. T. FIELDS.
The most forlorn--what worms we are!-- Would wish to finish this cigar Before departing.
FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.
Mrs. Cadwallader says it is nonsense, people going a long journey when they are married.
She says they get tired to death of each other, and can't quarrel comfortably, as they would at home.
_Celia Brooke_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Middlemarch_.
Some think that man from a monkey grew By steps of long generation, When, after many blunders, a few Good hits were made in creation; But I can't comprehend this at all; Of blind groping forces Though Darwin discourses, I rather incline To believe in design With Plato, and Peter, and Paul.
J. S. BLACKIE, _Musa Burschicosa_.