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When his feeble love is sated, he will hold thee surely then Something lower than his hookah,--something less than his cayenne.
What is this? His eyes are pinky. Was't the claret? Oh, no, no-- Bless your soul! it was the salmon--salmon always makes him so.
_Bon Gaultier Ballads._
A clergyman had commenced an able discourse, when one of the hearers exclaimed, "That's Tillotson!" This was allowed to pa.s.s; but very soon another exclamation followed, "That's Paley." The preacher then addressed the disturber: "I tell you, sir, if there is to be a repet.i.tion of such conduct, I shall call on the churchwarden to have you removed from the church." "That's your own," was the ready reply.
MARK BOYD, _Reminiscences_.
College mostly makes people like bladders--just good for nothing but t' hold the stuff as is poured into 'em.
_Bartle Ma.s.sey_, in GEORGE ELIOT's _Adam Bede_.
Werther had a love for Charlotte Such as words could never utter; Would you know how first he met her?
She was cutting bread and b.u.t.ter.
So he sighed and pined and ogled, And his pa.s.sion boiled and bubbled, Till he blew his silly brains out, And no more was by it troubled.
Charlotte, having seen his body Borne before her on a shutter, Like a well-conducted person, Went on cutting bread and b.u.t.ter.
W. M. THACKERAY.
Perhaps the best ill.u.s.tration I can give of [Bagehot's] more sardonic humour, was his remark to a friend who had a church on the grounds near his house:--"Ah, you've got the church in the grounds! I like that. It's well the tenants shouldn't be _quite_ sure that the landlord's power stops with this world."
R. H. HUTTON, _Memoir of W. Bagehot_.
_ON WIVES._
All wives are bad,--yet two blest hours they give, When first they wed, and when they cease to live.
PALLADAS, trans. by J. H. MERIVALE.
"Yes, my dear curate," said the Professor, "what I am enjoying is the champagne that you drink, and what you are enjoying is the champagne that I drink. This is altruism; this is benevolence; this is the sublime outcome of enlightened modern thought. The pleasures of the table, in themselves, are low and beastly ones; but if we each of us are only glad because the others are enjoying them, they become holy and glorious beyond description."
"They do," cried the curate rapturously, "indeed they do. I will drink another bottle for your sake."
W. H. MALLOCK, _The New Paul and Virginia_.
Some d--d people have come in, and I must stop.
By d--d, I mean deuced.
LAMB to WORDSWORTH.
Ours is so far-advanced an age!
Sensation-tales, a cla.s.sic stage, Commodious villas!
We boast high art, an Albert Hall, Australian meats, and men who call Their sires gorillas!
AUSTIN DOBSON, _Vignettes in Rhyme_.
It being asked at Paris whom they would have as G.o.dfather for Rothschild's baby--"Talleyrand,"
said a Frenchman. "Pourquoi, monsieur?"
"Parcequ'il est le moins chretien possible."
B. R. HAYDON, _Diary_.
Before the blast are driven the flying clouds-- (And I should like to blow a cloud as well,) The vapours wrap the mountain-tops in shrouds-- (I left my mild cheroots at the hotel.) Dotting the gla.s.sy surface of the stream, (Oh, here's a cigarette--my mind's at ease.) The boats move silently, as in a dream-- (Confound it! where on earth are my fusees?)
H. S. LEIGH, _Carols of c.o.c.kayne_.
Emile de Girardin, the famous political writer, a natural son of Alexandre de Girardin, becoming celebrated, Montrond said to his father, "Depechez-vous de le reconnaitre, ou bientot il ne vous reconnaitra pas."
GRONOW, _Recollections_.
Marriage from love, like vinegar from wine-- A sad, sour, sober beverage,--by time Is sharpen'd from its high celestial flavour, Down to a very homely household savour.
LORD BYRON, _Don Juan_.
Lettuce is like conversation; it must be fresh, and crisp, so sparkling that you scarcely notice the bitter in it. Lettuce, like conversation, requires a good deal of oil, to avoid friction, and keep the company smooth; a pinch of attic salt; a dash of pepper; a quant.i.ty of mustard and vinegar, by all means, but so mixed that you will notice no sharp contrasts; and a trifle of sugar.
C. D. WARNER, _My Summer in a Garden_.
_MARTIAL IN LONDON._
Exquisite wine and comestibles From Slater, and Fortnum and Mason; Billiards, ecarte, and chess-tables; Water in vast marble basin; Luminous books (not voluminous) To read under beech-trees cac.u.minous; One friend, who is fond of a distich, And doesn't get too syllogistic; A valet who knows the complete art Of service--a maiden, his sweetheart;-- Give me these, in some rural pavilion, And I'll envy no Rothschild his million.
MORTIMER COLLINS, in _The Owl_.
He was much too disliked not to be sought after.
Whatever is once notorious, even for being disagreeable, is sure to be coveted.
LORD LYTTON's _Pelham_.
_TO GIBBS, CONCERNING HIS POEMS._