“Has that cookery book any pictures?”
said Miss C, to a bookseller.
“No, none,” was the answer.
“Why,” exclaimed the witty and beautiful young lady, “what
is the use of telling us how to make a good dinner, if they give us no
A RULE WITHOUT AN EXCEPTION
– There never yet lived that young lady who did not like to be told
she was pretty.
AN IRISH ADVERTISEMENT. – Lost, on Saturday
last, but the loser does not know where, an empty sack with a cheese
in it. On the sack the letters P.G. are marked, but so completely worn
out as not to be legible.
“I’m glad that this coffee don’t owe me anything,”
said Brown, a boarder, at breakfast.
“Why?” said Smith
“Because I don’t believe it would ever settle.”
Do you want to know the man against whom you
have most reason to guard yourself? Your looking-glass will
give you a fair likeness of his face.
To dread danger from the progress of any truth,
physical, moral, or religious, is to manifest a want of faith
in God’s power, or his will to maintain his own cause.
– If you want a son not to fall in love with
any spenderiferous gal, praise her up to the skies, call her an angel,
say she is a whole team and horse to spare, and all that. The moment the
crittur sees her he is a little grain disappointed, and says, “Well,
she is handsome, that’s a fact, but she is not so very, very, everlastin’
after all.” Then he criticises her. “Her foot is too thick
in the instep; her elbow-bone is sharp, she rouges, is affected,”
and so on; and the more you oppose him the more he abuses her, till he
swears she is misroped and ain’t handsome at all. Say nothing to
him, and he is spooney over head and ears in a minute. He sees all beauties
and no defects, and is for walking into her affections at once. Nothin’
damages a gal, or preacher, like overpraise. A hoss is one of the onliest
things in natur’ that is helpet by it.
THE BLACKCAP’S RETURN TO HIS NATIVE LAND.
- It is a fact admitted by all careful observers, that the blackcap
like the nightingale, regularly revisits, year after year, the scenes
of his childhood. Where he was born there lies his heart. This cannot
be a matter for wonder or surprise; indeed, appreciating their instinct
as we do, it would be strange were it otherwise. This very year, we recognised
most readily, by the peculiarity of his voice and richness of his notes,
one of our favourites that left us last autumn. There is so much difference
in the quality of their song, and also in the arrangement of their notes,
that you might really “swear” to a particular bird. We speak
of this identical bird, because of his rare excellence. Doubtless many
others, of second-rate powers, accompanied him to their old quarters.
Nature is always true to herself. –
Kidd’s Shilling Treatise on the Blackcap
AN EMBARRASSING DEMAND. – We
see there is a new song by Balfe called The First Kiss. Is there not some degree of danger in such a title?
For instance, what would a shopman think, and how would he behave, if
a pretty young lady went up to him, and smilingly said, “If you
please, Sir, I want you to give me The First Kiss?”
*The year Balfe's song The First Kiss was published
was 1859. The words were by Desmond Ryan, a friend of Balfe's who was
deputy Editor of the periodical The Musical World. Information provide
with thanks from Basil Walsh.
Scraps from Punch.