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delivered. Our citations shall be taken from the fugitive pieces, which, though easier to make, are easier to read. To appreciate them at their full value it is well to keep in mind the following table of the relative proportions in which the various letters of the alphabet are used:

[table]

It follows, therefore, that the letter E must be the most nearly indispensable letter in the alphabet. That it is not absolutely indispensable is shown by the following, written, as the author says, with ease without e's: The Fate Of Nassan.

Bold Nassan quits his caravan,
A hazy mountain-grot to scan,
Climbs jaggy rocks to spy his way,
Doth tax his sight, but far doth stray.

Not work of man, nor sport of child,
Finds Nassan in that mazy wild;
Lax grow his joints, limbs toil in vain,—
Poor wight! why didst thou quit that plain?

Vainly for succor Nassan calls.
Know, Zillah, that thy Nassan falls;
But prowling wolf and fox may joy
To quarry on thy Arab boy.

Here is another. But this example not merely excludes the letter E. It has a further and singular merit. Each stanza contains every letter of the alphabet except E:

A jovial swain should not complain

Of any buxom fair,
"Who mocks his pain and thinks it gain

To quiz his awkward air.

Quixotic boys who look for joys

Quixotic hazards run;
A lass annoys with trivial toys,

Opposing man for fun.

A jovial swain may rack his brain.

And tax his fancy's might;
To quiz is vain, for 'tis most plain

That what I say is right.

The following verses contain every letter except S:
Come, Love, Come.

Oh ! come to-night; for naught can charm

The weary time when thou'rt away.
Oh ! come; the gentle moon hath thrown

O'er bower and hall her quivering ray.
The heather-bell hath mildly flung

From off her fairy leaf the bright

►right And diamond dew-drop that had hung * -a gem of light.

Then come, love, come.

Upon that leaf—a gem of light.
Thei

To-night the liquid wave hath not-
Illumined by the moonlit beam

Playing upon the lake beneath,
Like frolic in an autumn dream—

The liquid wave hath not, to-night.
In all her moonlit pride, a fair

Gift like to them that on tny lip

Do breathe, and laugh, and home it there.
Then come, love, come.

To-night! to-night I my gentle one,

The flower-bearing Amra tree
Doth long, with fragrant moan, to meet

The love-lip of the honey-bee.
But not the Amra tree can long

To greet the bee, at evening light,
With half the deep, fond love I long

To meet my Nam a here to-night.

Then come, love, come.

A prose example is furnished by Lord Holland. He was led to essay it in 1824 by reading in D'Israeli's "Curiosities" an account of Lope de Vega's no-vowel novels. It is a still more difficult feat than any yet recorded, as all the vowels save £ are excluded.

Eve's Legend.

Men were never perfect; yet the three brethren Veres were ever esteemed, respected, revered, even when the rest, whether the select few, whether the mere herd, were left neglected.

The eldest's vessels seek the deep, stem the element, get pence; the keen Peter, when free, wedded Hester Green,—the slender, stem, severe, erect Hester Green. The next, clever Ned, less dependent, wedded sweet Ellen Heber. Stephen, ere he met the gentle Eve, never felt tenderness; he kept kennels, bred steeds, rested where the deer fed, went where green trees, where fresh breezes greeted sleep. There he met the meek, the gentle Eve; she tended her sheep, she ever neglected self; she never heeded pelf, yet she heeded the shepherds even less. Nevertheless, her cheek reddened when she met Stephen; yet decent reserve, meek respect, tempered her speech, even when she showed tenderness. Stephen felt the sweet effect: he felt ne erred when he fled the sex, yet felt he defenceless when Eve seemed tender. She, he reflects, never deserved neglect; she never vented spleen; he esteems her gentleness, her endless deserts; he reverences her steps; he greets her:

"Tell me whence these meek, these gentle sheep,—whence the yet meeker, the gentler shepherdess?"

"Well bred, we were eke better fed, ere we went where reckless men seek fleeces. There we were fleeced. Need then rendered me shepherdess, need renders me sempstress. See me tend the sheep, see me sew the wretched shreds. Eve's need preserves the steers, preserves the sheep; Eve's needle mends her dresses, hems her sheets; Eve feeds the geese; Eve preserves the cheese."

Her speech melted Stephen, yet he nevertheless esteems, reveres her. He bent the knee where her feet pressed the green; he blessed, he begged, he pressed her.

"Sweet, sweet Eve, let me wed thee; be led where Hester Green, where Ellen Heber, where the brethren Vere dwell. Free cheer greets thee there; Ellen's glees sweeten the refreshment; there severer Hester's decent reserve checks heedless jests. Be led there, sweet Eve!"

"Never! we well remember the Seer. We went where he dwells—we entered the cell— we begged the decree,—

Where, whenever, when, 'twere well
Eve be wedded? Eld Seer, tell.

He rendered the decree; see here the sentence decreed!" Then she presented Stephen the
Seer's decree. The verses were these:

Ere the green reed be red,
Sweet Eve, be never wed;
Ere be green the red cheek.
Never wed thee, Eve meek.

The terms perplexed Stephen, yet he jeered the terms; he resented the senseless credence, "Seers never err." Then he repented, knelt, wheedled, wept. Eve sees Stephen kneel; she relents, yet frets when she remembers the Seer's decree. Her dress redeems her. These Were the events;

Her well-kempt tresses fell; sedges, reeds, bedecked them. The reeds fell, the edges met her cheeks; her cheeks bled. She presses the green sedge where her cheek bleeds. Red then bedewed the green reed, the green reed then speckled her red cheek. The red cheek seem* green, the green reed seems red. These were e'en the terms the Eld Seer decreed Stephen Vere.

Herb Endbth The Legend.

An ingenious trifler furnishes Notes and Queries with the following series of verses, each containing only one vowel:

The Russo-turkish War.

War harms all ranks, all arts, all crafts appall;
At Mars' harsh blase, arch, rampart, altar fall (
Ah 1 hard as adamant a braggart Czar
Arms vassal swarms, and fans a fatal war 1
Rampant at that bad call, a Vandal band
Harass, and barm, and ransack Wallach-land.
A Tartar phalanx Balkan's scarp hath past,
And Allah's standard falls, alas! at last.

The Fall Of Eve,

Eve, Eden's empress, needs defended be;
The Serpent greets her when she seeks the tree.
Serene she sees the speckled tempter creep;
Gentle he seems,—perverted schemer deep,—
Yet endless pretexts, ever fresh, prefers,
Perverts her senses, revels when she errs.
Sneers when she weeps, regrets, repents she fell.
Then, deep-revenged, reseeks the nether Hell I

The Approach Of Evening.

Idling I sit in this mild twilight dim,
Whilst birds, in wild swift vigils, circling skim.
Light winds in sighing sink, till, rising bright,
Night's Virgin Pilgrim swims in vivid light.

Incontrovertible Facts.

No monk too good to rob, or cog, or plot,
No fool so gross to bolt Scotch collops hot.
From donjon tops no Oronooko rolls.
Logwood, not lotos, floods Oporto's bowls.
Troops of old tosspots oft to sot consort.
Box tops our school-boysjtoo, do flog for sport.
No cool monsoons blow oft on Oxford dons,
Orthodox, jog-trot, book-worm Solomons J
Bold Ostrogoths of ghosts no horror show.
On London shop-fronts no hop-blossoms grow.
To crocks of gold no Dodo looks for food.
On soft cloth footstools no old fox doth brood.
Lone storm-tost sloops forlorn do work to port.
Rooks do not roost on spoons, nor woodcocks snort.
Nor dog on snowdrop or on coltsfoot rolls,
Nor common frog concocts long protocols.

The same subject continued.

Dull humdrum murmurs lull, but hubbub stuns.
Lucullus snuffs up musk, mundungus shuns.
Puss purrs, buds burst, bucks butt, luck turns up trumps;
But full cups, hurtful, spur up unjust thumps.

Litera scripta manet, verbum imbelle perit (L., "The written letter remains, the weak [spoken] word perishes"), a mediaeval Latin phrase, which Fournier explains as a mnemonic versification of the earlier "Verba volant, scripta manent" (" Words fly, written things remain"). It was with a prehistoric consciousness of the truth thus emphasized that Job exclaimed, "Oh that my words were now written! oh that they were printed in a book I" (xix. 23.)

And what is writ is writ,—
Would it were worthier!

Child* Harold, Canto »▼., Stansa 185*

Literal sense, In a. Taking things too literally is a fertile source of blunders that are sometimes amusing, sometimes provoking, and sometimes deplorable. We all remember Colman's Doem about Dr. Bolus and the patient to whom he had prescribed a medicine with the injunction, M When taken to be well shaken." The solicitous family shook the sick man instead of the medicine, and when the doctor called around again his patient was dead. A similar story in actual life is related o( a member of the County Board at Crooks ton, Mississippi, a hale and hearty farmer, who, for the first time in his life, feeling unaccountably under the weather, visited the local doctor and obtained a prescription. Arriving home, he found his wife had gone out, so he concluded to take the first dose during her absence. When the good old lady returned she was surprised to find her husband stark naked and standing up to his chin in a rain-barrel filled with water, a bottle of medicine in one hand and a teaspoon in the other. "For goodness* sake, father," she cried, '• what are you about?" "Why, I'm following the doctor's orders," said Tim. And he pointed to the directions: "A teaspoonful in water, every three hours."

Another medical story is more tragic. A doctor, called in for the second time just soon enough to save the life of a man who during his fits of intoxication was given to dosing himself with laudanum, felt called upon to administer a round rebuke, and wound up by saying, " If you really intend to kill yourself, cut your throat and have done with it." One night the doctor's bell was pulled. Thrusting his head out of the window, he saw the self-poisoner's wife. "He has done it, doctor," she cried. "Done what?" "John has taken your advice. He has cut his throat and will save you further trouble!"

Two English costermongers claiming proprietorship in one donkey appeared before the Westminster County Court to settle their dispute. After hearing a part of the evidence, the judge said they had better settle the case out of court during the adjournment for luncheon. When the court reopened the defendant told his Honor it was all right; the donkey was his. The judge noticed that the plaintiffs personal appearance was considerably damaged, but before he could put a question the defendant continued: "We found a quiet place to settle it in, your Honor. I 'ad to be rather rough on the plaintiff; but couldn't 'elp it; we 'ad honly an arf-hour to pull it off in, and he were a much tougher customer than I expected." The explanation was conclusive, if not entirely what the court had bargained for, and the donkey became the prize of the victor in th« fight.

That was a very literal Scotch subaltern whom Colonel Stuart tells of in his " Reminiscences of a Soldier." The Scotchman was one day on guard at Gibraltar with another officer, who, falling down a precipice, was killed. He made no mention of the accident in his guard-report, leaving the addendum, "Nothing extraordinary since guard-mounting," standing without qualification. Some hours after, the brigade-genera! came to demand explanation: "You say, sir, in your report, c Nothing extraordinary since guard-mounting,' when vour brother-officer fell down a precipice four hundred feet and was killed.' M Well, sir," replied Sandy, "I dinna think there's anything extraordinary in that. If he had faun doon a precipice four hundred feet high and no ben killed, I should ha thocht it extraordinary, and put it doon in my repoort."

These blunders should be genuine in order to reach the higher levels of humor: yet a pretence at a literal understanding—or misunderstanding—is a favorite form of jesting. Charles Lamb's serious reply to a gushing mother who asked him, "And now, Mr. Lamb, how do you like children?" •■ B—b— boiled, madam," is a classic instance Jokes repeat themselves, like history, and it was only the other day, according to one of our comic papers, that Mr. Staggers, learning from his loving spouse that "we are to have dear mother for dinner," quickly replied, " All right. See that she is thoroughly cooked."

Sheridan, reproving his promising son Tom on the irregular life he was leading, ended by saying, "My dear Tom, really it is time for you to take a wife." "With all my heart," replied the dutiful son; "whose wife shall I take?" Sydney Smith's jest when advised by his doctor to take a walk upon an empty stomach belongs to the same class: "Upon whose?" he asked. And very similar, too, is Leigh Hunt's. A lady at dessert asked if he would not venture on an orange. "Madam," he replied, "I should be happy to do so, but I am afraid I should tumble oft"

"How does your horse answer?" inquired the Duke of Cumberland of George Selwyn. "I really don't know," George replied: "I have never asked him a question."

A council of ministers having met on some important questions, a nobleman inquired of Talleyrand,'* What has passed at the council?" "Three hours," was the answer.

"I heard an anecdote at Oxford," says W H. Harrison in his "Reminiscences," "of a proctor encountering on his rounds two undergraduates who were without their gowns, or out of bounds, or out of hours. He challenged one: 'Your name and college?' They were given. Turning to the other, 'And pray, sir! what might your name be?' 'Julius Caesar,' was the reply. 'What, sir, do you mean to say your name is Julius Caesar?' 'Sir, you did not ask me what it is, but what it might be.'"

A young barrister, intending to be very eloquent, observed, "Such principles as these, my lord, are written in the book of Nature." "What page, sir ?" said Lord Chief Justice Ellenborough; and the orator was silenced for that occasion at least.

A well-known chestnut is that of the judge who threatened to fine a lawyer for contempt of court. "I have expressed no contempt for the court," said the lawyer; "on the contrary, I have carefully concealed it."

One of a party of friends, referring to an exquisite musical composition, said, "That song always carries me away when I hear it" "Can anybody here whistle it ?" asked Jerrold appealingly.

A police-officer met an organ-grinder on the street and said,—

"Have you a license to play? If not, you must accompany me."

"With pleasure," answered the street-musician. "What will you sing?"

Gronow, in his " Recollections," tells a good story. The Bishop of Exeter, in the course of conversation at a dinner-party, mentioned that many years since, while trout-fishing, he lost his watch and chain, which he supposed had been pulled from his pocket by the bough of a tree. Some time afterwards, when staying in the same neighborhood, he took a stroll by the side of the river, and came to the secluded spot where he supposed he had lost his valuables, and there, to his surprise and delight, he found them under a bush. The anecdote, vouched for by the word of a bishop, astonished the company; but this was changed to amusement by his son's inquiring whether the watch, when found, was going. "No," replied the bishop: "the wonder was that it was not gone."

Gazzam (looking up from the newspaper). That's the longest sentence I ever heard of.

Mrs. Gazzam. What?

Gazzam. Fifty years.

Mrs. Gazzam (who was once a school-teacher). It isn't a sentence at all It has no verb.

Taking things literally is a frequent method among the unregenerate of sliding out of a difficulty.

"Don't you see that sign ?" cries an irate property-owner to an amateur angler, pointing to the legend, " No fishing on the grounds."

"I'm not fishing on the grounds," is the quiet reply: "I'm fishing in the water."

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