Holidays at the Grange or A Week's Delight Part 24

"Shakspeare again," replied Alice. "And in what book do you find this pa.s.sage, which corroborates that n.o.ble sentiment:

'He that fights and runs away, May live to fight another day.'"

"In Butler's Hudibras, I believe," rejoined Ellen. "And where may that truth be found, which evidently is intended only for boys and men--'Use every man after his desert, and who shall escape whipping?'"

"Of course it was said by no one else than Will Shakspeare, the deer-stealer--he knew it held good of himself, and was indulgent to others. And who was it that wrote this epitaph:

'Underneath this stone doth lie As much beauty as can die: Which in life did harbor give To more virtue than can live.'"

"That was 'rare Ben Jonson,' I am sure," replied Alice. "If her pale ghost could have blushed, I think it would, at such lofty and exquisite praise. For my part, I could say, 'Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice.'"

"That's Shakspeare again," cried Charlie. "It is surprising how many pa.s.sages come into one's head from that wonderful man's works. Where is this to be found: 'G.o.d tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.'"

"In the Bible, of course--though I do not remember in what part," said Mary.

"Think again," replied Charlie, "for you are quite wrong: it can never be found in the Bible."

"Oh, but I'm sure it is there: I'll get a concordance and find the pa.s.sage in a minute." Accordingly she did so, but was obliged to acknowledge herself defeated: it was nowhere to be discovered.

"Since you are at a loss, I can set you right, for once," said Mrs.

Wyndham. "The pa.s.sage is to be found in Sterne's works: I have myself heard it quoted in the pulpit as from the Bible, and many people really think that it is. Here's another:

'When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war.'"

"That's from Shakspeare, I know," answered Tom.

"'Tis from Troilus and Cressida, I imagine--that is a Greek play."

"Then find it, my boy," said Mrs. Wyndham, handing him Mrs. Cowden Clarke's elaborate volume.

"It is not in the whole book," replied Tom, after a diligent search, laying down the volume, with a face as blank as the leaves at the end.

"If it is not in Shakspeare, I give up."

"'How poor are they, that have not patience!'" cried Cornelia. "Can you tell us where that piece of wisdom may be found?"

"Yes--in Shakspeare--the same author who writes 'This was the most unkindest cut of all!'"

"I thought of that pa.s.sage concerning the Greek, which seems to have baffled you all," rejoined Mrs. Wyndham, "because I was once a whole year on the watch to discover it. It happened to be quoted at a little literary gathering, and none of us could tell the author, although it was 'familiar in our mouths as household words.' We agreed to search for it, but it was full a year before I found it, in looking over the play--quite a celebrated one--ent.i.tled 'The Rival Queens,' by poor Nat.

Lee, commonly called the 'crazy poet.' Alexander the Great is the hero."

"We know so many quotations at second-hand," said Mrs. Wyndham, "that I like this game: it will set us to hunting up the original pa.s.sages, and seeing their connections. If people would act upon this principle, of going to head-quarters, with regard to history--and in private life too--how many mistakes might be saved."

"And now, just to keep us from becoming too wise," Cornelia chimed in, "I propose that we act charades. A group of us will arrange the plot in the library, and when we open the door, the rest of you must guess from our actions what word we intend to depict. We'll choose one of several syllables, so that there will be repeated opportunities given you to sharpen your wits. And if you should conjecture the whole word before we are through, please not to spoil sport by telling it."

"We are all obedience," was the reply: and Cornelia, Charlie, and George, after a whispered consultation, and a foraging expedition into the housekeeper's room, shut themselves up in the library. Soon the door was thrown open, and the three were seen gravely seated at a small table, sipping imaginary tea, while Cornelia, as hostess, was anxious to fill her part by replenishing their cups. "Tea," "tea," sounded from every part of the room, and the door was closed. When again opened, the three cousins were disclosed in the very height of enjoyment: Charlie's mirth-provoking face, Cornelia's gay laugh, and George's loud and long haw-haw, quite upset the gravity of the spectators, and peal after peal of laughter rewarded the trio. "How merry we are!" said Aunt Lucy. As she spoke the word, the door was shut, showing that the right expression had been used. When re-opened, Cornelia was discovered carefully arranging Charlie's cravat. "Shall I make a sailor's knot, or how shall I fix it?" "Give it a plain tie, if you please." There was little difficulty in discovering that the word was _temerity_; and to make "a.s.surance doubly sure," the whole of it was acted out. George and Cornelia stood up, holding hands, while Charlie, who had in a marvellously short time metamorphosed himself into a minister, with gown, bands, and book, put to the former the question, "Will you take this woman to be your lawful wife?" "I will," responded George. "Will you take this man to be your lawful husband?" "No, I will not," answered Cornelia, hysterically. "You will not? What, madam, is the reason of this change of purpose? Have you not well considered the matter?" "No, I have not--I have been very rash--I never saw him till yesterday!" "What _temerity_!" exclaimed the clergyman reprovingly, and the door was closed, amid great laughter.

When it was re-opened, George was found seated in the centre of the room, under the hands of the Doctor, who was examining his eye; while Cornelia, with an appearance of great anxiety, held the light. "Is it out yet?" "No, Doctor: I feel it still--how it hurts!" Thereupon the Doctor produced a formidable instrument from his pocket, and appeared about to gouge out the eye by way of curing it; and the door was closed amid cries of "eye!" "eye!" "eye!"--quite parliamentary, as Charlie said. The second scene disclosed Cornelia apparently engaged in household avocations, which were interrupted by a rap at the door. She gave admittance to a man and boy who were peddling tin wares, and there ensued such a sounding of tin-pans, and such a chaffering about tins, that no doubt could exist in the minds of the spectators as to the word.

To act out the third syllable, Cornelia and George were seated at a table, with lamp and books, when a knock was heard, and a traveller, with carpet-bag and umbrella, entered the room. He had lost his way--he was going to the town of Certainty, in the land of Theoretical Speculation, and wanted some plain directions. "Oh, I can tell you exactly how to get there," cried Cornelia. "Keep along this road, the highway of Inquiry, until you find it bends off to the left into the path of Metaphysics. The path becomes narrower and more difficult continually, and many side-walks lead off to other spots: one, to the wilderness of Atheism; another, to the populous city of Thinkasyouplease; still another, to the dangerous bog of Alldoubt. But if you follow the right road, you cannot possibly err." "Much obliged: I'll try to keep the path." Presently, the traveller returned, in a battered condition: he had wandered from the right track; his cloak of philosophical reason had been torn by the briers of difficulty; his feet pierced, through the shoes of intellectual pride, by the sharp stones of suffering: he could not hear of any town of Certainty in the whole country of Theoretical Speculation. "I believe we have all made a mistake," replied George. "We erred in giving you a wrong direction: you erred in following it. Certainty is situated in the land of Truth: follow this highway of Inquiry in the opposite direction, until it leads you to a well-trodden road formed by the juncture of Faith and Facts; and then you cannot fail to reach Certainty. My sister Fancy misled you into error." And when the company in the sitting-room cried out "err,"

"err," the shutting of the door showed they were not mistaken. For the last scene, Aunt Lucy was called into requisition, and formed the central object of the exhibition. But little wit was required to make, of the whole, the word _Itinerant_.

"Now for a few puzzles and conundrums," cried Charlie, "I have one which I think none of you can guess. Who are the most immoral of manufacturers? Do you give it up?"

"I have heard the answer--we could not guess it, as it consists of puns," replied Mary. "Those who make you _steel_ pens, and then say they do _write_."

"Here's another. Why is the clock the most humble of all things?"

"Because it covers its face with its hands, and is continually running itself down."

"When is it in a pa.s.sion?"

"When it is ready to strike one."

"Pray, what can be the difference between Joan of Arc and Noah's ark?"

"One was made of gopher-wood--the other was Maid of Orleans."

"Two persons met in the street, and one of them said, 'I am _your_ son, but you are not _my_ father.' How could that be?"

"It could not be, Charlie!--how could it?" said Lewis.

"It might be, if the person happened to be his mother," answered Mary, with a laugh.

"It is that, of course--how silly we all are!"

"My first is on the table, and under the table; my second is a kind of grain; my third and fourth combined, form what the most romantic people cannot well dispense with; and my whole is one of the United States."

"Let us see--California? no. Ma.s.sachusetts will not do, nor Connecticut.

Oh, I have it: it is _Matrimony_--not always a united state, however!"

"You think not, Ellen? Then here is a piece of advice for you, and to make it more emphatic and intelligible, I will write it upon a card."

Be [A] meddling man family wife.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Word puzzle]

"I have it! _eureka_!" cried Tom Bolton. "Be above meddling in a family between man and wife."

"Why are pens, ink, and paper like the fixed stars?"

"They are stationary."

"A gentleman visited a prisoner; and, pointing to him, said to the bystanders,