Quips and Quiddities Part 24

The second canto of the "Pleasures of Memory,"

as published in the first edition, commenced with the lines-- "Sweet memory, wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the tide of Time I turn my sail."

[A] critic remarked on this pa.s.sage that it suggested the alliteration-- "Oft up the tide of Time I turn my _tail_."

ROGERS, _Table Talk_.

I like the man who makes a pun, Or drops a deep remark; I like philosophy or fun-- A lecture or a lark; But I despise the men who gloat Inanely over anecdote.

Ah me! I'd rather live alone Upon a desert isle, Without a voice except my own To cheer me all the while, Than dwell with men who learn by rote Their paltry funds of anecdote.

H. S. LEIGH, _Carols of c.o.c.kayne_.

No woman is too silly not to have a genius for spite.

ANNA C. STEELE.

That's what a man wants in a wife mostly; he wants to make sure o' one fool as 'ull tell him he's wise.

_Mrs. Poyser_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam Bede_.

The characters of great and small Come ready-made, we can't bespeak one; Their sides are many, too,--and all (Except ourselves) have got a weak one.

Some sanguine people love for life, Some love their hobby till it flings them.-- How many love a pretty wife For love of the _eclat_ she brings them!

FREDERICK LOCKER, _London Lyrics_.

Conscience, in most souls, is like an English Sovereign--it reigns, but it does not govern.

Its function is merely to give a formal a.s.sent to the Bills pa.s.sed by the pa.s.sions; and it knows, if it opposes what those are really bent upon, that ten to one it will be obliged to abdicate.

_Leslie_, in MALLOCK's _New Republic_.

If you are pious (mild form of insanity), Bow down and worship the ma.s.s of humanity.

Other religions are buried in mists; We're our own G.o.ds, say the Positivists.

MORTIMER COLLINS, _The British Birds_.

We were sitting in the green-room one evening during the performance, chatting and laughing, she [Mrs. Nesbitt] having a book in her hand which she had to take on the stage with her in the next scene, when Brindal, a useful member of the company, but not particularly remarkable for wit or humour, came to the door, and, leaning against it, in a sentimental manner drawled out,-- "If to her share some female errors fall, Look in her face----"

He paused. She raised her beautiful eyes to him, and consciously smiled--_her_ smile--in antic.i.p.ation of the well-known complimentary termination of the couplet, when, with a deep sigh, he added-- "----and you'll _believe_ them all!"

J. R. PLANCHe, _Recollections_.

_THE MAIDENS._

Perhaps, O lovers, if we did our hair _A la_ Medea, and if our garments were Draped cla.s.sically, we should seem more fair.

_THE YOUTHS._

By doing this ye would not us befool; Medea! the idea makes our blood run cool; Besides, of cla.s.sics we'd enough at school.

_Once a Week_.

Pledge me round, I bid ye declare, All good fellows whose beards are grey, Did not the fairest of the fair Common grow and wearisome ere Ever a month was pa.s.sed away?

The reddest lips that ever have kissed, The brightest eyes that ever have shone, May pray and whisper, and we not list, Or look away, and never be missed, Ere yet ever a month is gone.

W. M. THACKERAY.

It was known that Lord St. Jerome gave at his ball suppers the same champagne that he gave at his dinners, and that was of the highest cla.s.s: in short, a patriot. We talk with wondering execration of the great poisoners of past ages, the Borgias, the inventor of Aqua tofana, and the amiable Marchioness de Brinvilliers; but Pinto was of opinion that there were more social poisoners about in the present day than in the darkest and most demoralized periods, and then none of them are punished; which is so strange, he would add, as they are all found out.

LORD BEACONSFIELD, _Lothair_.

Seared is, of course, my heart:--but unsubdued Is, and shall be, my appet.i.te for food.

C. S. CALVERLEY, _Verses and Translations_.

Sheil had learnt and forgotten the exordium of a speech which began with the word "Necessity."

This word he had repeated three times, when Sir Robert Peel broke in--"is not _always_ the mother of invention."

ABRAHAM HAYWARD, _Essays_.

_ON MR. FROUDE AND CANON KINGSLEY._

Froude informs the Scottish youth Parsons have small regard for truth; The Reverend Canon Kingsley cries That History is a pack of lies.

What cause for judgment so malign?

A brief reflection solves the mystery: Froude believes Kingsley a divine, And Kingsley goes to Froude for history.

ANON.

Dined with Sydney Smith. He said that his brother Robert had, in King George III.'s time, translated the motto, "_Libertas sub rege pio_," "The pious king has got liberty under."

R. H. BARHAM, _Life_.