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 THE TIN TRUMPET ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 HEADS AND TAILS FOR THE WISE AND WAGGISH. 
 
 A NEW AMERICAN EDITION, WITH ALTERATIONS AND ADDITIONS. 
 
 V 
 
 " Misce stultitiam consiliis brevem." — Horace. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 346 & 348 BROADWAY. 
 
 1859. 
 
"FIT 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO., 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 Ad Candidum Lectorem. 
 
 Cum legis Iranc nostrum, Lector studiose, libellum, 
 
 Decedat vultu tetrica ruga tuo. 
 £Ton sunt hsec tristi conscripta Catonibus ore, 
 
 ISTon Heraclitis, non gravibus Curiis : 
 Sed si Heracliti, Curii, si forte Catones, 
 
 Adjicere hue oculos et legere ista velint, 
 Multa Mc invenient quaa possint pellere curas, 
 
 Plurima quaa msestos exhilarare queant. 
 
AMERICAN EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 The " Tin Trumpet," by the late Paul Chatfield, M.D., 
 edited by Jefferson Sanders, Esq., was first published in 
 London, in the year 1836. It was immediately republished 
 in this country, but owing to the fact that much of its 
 matter was of purely English, local, and temporary in- 
 terest, referring to the political and religious squabbles of 
 the times, the success of the work here was but temporary, 
 and it has long been entirely out of print. It contained, 
 however, a sufficient quantity of wit and wisdom, original 
 and selected, to make its resuscitation at this time appear 
 desirable. The American Editor to whom was intrusted 
 the office of preparing it for republication has thought fit, 
 while pruning the original of all that appeared superan- 
 nuated and of no present and lasting interest, to embody 
 with what remained such selections from his Common- 
 place-book as appeared to him to come legitimately within 
 the design of the author. The original plan of the book — 
 an alphabetically arranged collection of the wit and wis- 
 dom of many of the best writers, ancient and modern — has 
 not been changed. 
 
Vi AMERICAN EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 Such as it now is, the book is committed to the Amer- 
 ican public, with the belief that while it will become a 
 mine of easy quotations to many of our ready writers, it 
 will yet more serve to while away pleasantly and not un- 
 profitably a summer afternoon or winter evening to the 
 general reader. 
 
 Am. Ed. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 A. B. C. — It seems, at first sight, very singular that a blind 
 child should be taught to read ; but observe what the common 
 process is with every child : a child sees certain marks upon a 
 plain piece of paper, which he is taught to call A, B, ; but 
 if you were to raise certain marks in relief upon pasteboard, as 
 you may of course do, and teach a blind child to call these 
 marks which he felt A, B, 0, a blind child would as easily 
 learn his alphabet by his fingers as another would do by his 
 eyes, and might go on feeling through Homer or Yirgil as we 
 do by persevering in looking at the book. Just in the same 
 manner, says Sydney Smith, I should not be surprised if the 
 alphabet could be taught by a series of well-contrived flavors ; 
 and we may even live to see the day when men may be taught 
 to smell out their learning, and when a fine scenting day shall 
 be (which it certainly is not at present) considered as a day 
 peculiarly favorable to study. 
 
 A.B.C.DABIAN — seems to have been an ancient term for 
 pedagogue. Wood, in his Athenas Oxoniensis, speaking of 
 Thomas Farnabie, says — " When he landed in Cornwall, his 
 distresses made him stoop so low, as to be an A.b.c.darian, 
 and several were taught their hornbooks by him." By assum- 
 ing his title, its wearer certainly proves himself to be a man 
 of letters ; but my friend T. H. suggests, that the school- 
 
2 THE TIN TEUMPET. 
 
 master who wishes to establish his aptitude for his office, 
 instead of. taking the three first, had better designate himself 
 by the two last letters of the alphabet. 
 
 ABLUTION — a duty somewhat too strictly inculcated in 
 the Mahometan ritual, and sometimes too laxly observed in 
 Christian practice. As a man may have a dirty body, and 
 an undefiled mind, so may he have clean hands in a literal, 
 and not in a metaphorical sense. All washes and cosmetics 
 without, he may yet labor under a moral hydrophobia within. 
 Pleasant to see an im-puritan of this stamp holding his nose, 
 lest the wind should come between an honest scavenger and 
 his gentility, while his own character stinks in the public 
 nostrils. Oh, if the money and the pains that we bestow upon 
 perfumes and adornments for the body, were applied to the 
 purification and embellishment of the mind ! Oh, if we were 
 as careful to polish our manner as our teeth, to make our 
 temper as sweet as our breath, to cut off our peccadilloes as to 
 pare our nails, to be as upright in character as in person, to 
 save our souls as to shave our chins, what an immaculate race 
 should we become ! Exteriorly, we are not a filthy people. 
 "We throw so much dirt at our neighbours, that we have none 
 left for ourselves. "We are only unclean in our hearts and 
 lives. As occasional squalor is the worst evil of poverty and 
 labor, so should constant cleanliness be the greatest luxury of 
 wealth and ease ; yet even our aristocracy are not altogether 
 without reproach in this respect. It is well known that the 
 celebrated Lord Nelson had not washed his hands for the last 
 eight years of his life. Alas ! upon what trifles may our repu- 
 tation for cleanliness depend 1 Even a foreign accent may ruin 
 us. In a trial, where a German and his wife were giving evi- 
 dence, the former was asked by the counsel, " How old are 
 you ? " — " I am dirty." — " And what is your wife ? " — "Mine 
 wife is dirty-two." — " Then, Sir, you are a very nasty couple, 
 and I wish to have nothing further to say to either of you." 
 
 ABRIDGMENT — anything contracted into a small com- 
 pass ; such, for instance, as the abridgment of the statutes in 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 3 
 
 twenty volumes, folio. To make a good abridgment, requires 
 as much time and talent as to write an original work ; a fact 
 of which the reader will find abundant proof as he proceeds ! 
 When Queen Anne told Dr. South that his sermon had only- 
 one fault — that of being too short, — he replied, that he should 
 have made it shorter if he had had more time. How comes 
 it that no enterprising bookseller has ever thought of publish- 
 ing " an Abridgment of the Lives of the Fathers ? " I know 
 not whether the religious public would give it encouragement, 
 but I am confident, that in England, the land of primogeniture 
 and entailed estates, there is not an heir in the three king- 
 doms who would not exert himself to insure its success. 
 
 ABSCESS — a morbid tumor, frequently growing above 
 the shoulders, and swelling to a considerable size, when it 
 comes to a head, with nothing in it. It is not always a natural 
 disease, for nature abhors a vacuum ; yet fools, fops, and 
 fanatics are very subject to it, and it sometimes attacks old 
 women of both sexes. " I wish to consult you upon a little 
 project I have formed," said a noodle to his friend. " I have 
 an idea in my head — " " Have you ? " interposed the friend, 
 with a look of great surprise ; " then you shall have my 
 opinion at once : keep it there ! — it may be some time before 
 you get another." 
 
 ABSOLUTE GOVERNMENT— There is a simplicity and 
 unity in despotism, which is not without its advantages, if 
 every despot were to be a Titus or a Vespasian — to unite great 
 talents with a clement and benevolent heart. But the chances 
 against such a fortunate conjunction are almost incalculable ; 
 and even where it occurs, its effects may be suddenly defeated, 
 and the best sovereign be converted into the worst by an attack 
 of gout, or a fit of indigestion. Besides, there are few who 
 think of unrestrained power, without being intoxicated, or, 
 perhaps, maddened. Nero, before he succeeded to the crown, 
 was remarkable for his moderation and humanity. So true is 
 that ditum of Tacitus, that the throne of a despot is generally 
 ascended by a wild beast. Free institutions are the best, 
 
4 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 indeed the only security, both for the governed #nd the 
 governor ; for there is no remedy against a tyrant but assassina- 
 tion, of which ultima ratio populi, even our own times have 
 furnished instances at St. Petersburg and Constantinople. 
 Few modern despots can calculate on being so fortunate as 
 the Turk Mustapha, who having rebelled against his brother, 
 was taken prisoner, and ordered for execution on the following 
 morning The Sultan, however, being suddenly seized with 
 the cholic, accompanied, perhaps, with some fraternal, as well 
 as internal qualms, ordered the decapitation to be deferred for 
 two days, during which he died, and his imprisoned brother 
 quietly succeeded to the throne. " happy Mustapha ! " 
 exclaimed the Sultaness, " you were born to be lucky, for you 
 have not only derived life from your mother's stomach, but 
 from your brother's ! " 
 
 ABSURDITY — anything advanced by our opponents con- 
 trary to our own practice, or above our comprehension, — and, 
 therefore, a term very liberally used, because it is implied in 
 exact proportion to our own ignorance. Nothing to which we 
 are so quick-sighted in another, so blind in ourselves, not only 
 individually, but nationally. " Comment ! " exclaims the 
 French sailor in Josephus Molitor, when he saw Ironmonger 
 Lane written on the corner of a street in London, which he 
 read " Irons manger Vane." — " Comment ! Es ge qu'on mange 
 des anes dans ge pays ci ? Mais, quelle aosurdite ! " How 
 many of us, in travelling, exhibit our own, in imputing an 
 imaginary absurdity to others ! " How ridiculous ! " exclaims 
 the travelled servant in one of Dr. Moore's novels, " to dress 
 the French regiments of the line in blue, — a colour which, as all 
 the world knows, is only proper for Oxford Blues and the 
 Artillery." Some of our highest classes are unconscious imita- 
 tors of the knight of the shoulder-knot. 
 
 Of the Eeductio ad dbsurdum, a very useful weapon of logic 
 in arguing with ultras of any class, I know not a happier illus- 
 tration than the Duke of Buckingham's reply to Dryden's 
 famous line — 
 
 " My wound is great, because it is so small." 
 " Then 'twould bo greater were it none at all." 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 5 
 
 ACCENT — is to the voice, what money is to the purse. 
 There are individuals who through an incorrect ear are unable 
 even to modulate their voices correctly, and who thus produce 
 the most ludicrous effects without knowing it themselves. 
 Such was the clergyman who read from the pulpit : " Saddle 
 me, the ass ; and they saddled Mm." Rebuking one for swear- 
 ing, this clergyman said, "Do you not know the command- 
 ments : " Swear not at all ? " " I do not swear at all" was the 
 reply ; " but only at those who annoy me." 
 
 ABUSE — intemperate, excites our sympathies, not for the 
 abuser, but the abusee, a fact which some of our virulent critics 
 and political writers are very apt to forget. Like other poisons, 
 when administered in too strong a dose, it is thrown off by 
 the intended victim, and often relieves, where it was meant to 
 destroy. If the wielder of the weapon be such an unskilful 
 sportsman as to overcharge his piece, he must not be surprised 
 if it explode, and wound no one but himself. Dirt wantonly 
 cast, only acts like fuller's earth, defiling for the moment, but 
 purifying in the end ; so that those who are the most bespat- 
 tered, come out the most immaculate. Pleasant was the well- 
 known revenge of the vilipended author, who having in vain 
 endeavored to propitiate his critic by returning eulogy for 
 abuse, sent him at last the following epigram : — 
 
 44 "With industry I spread your praise, 
 With equal you my censure blaze ; 
 But faith ! 'tis all in vain we do, 
 The -world believes nor me, nor you." 
 
 ACCOMPLISHMENTS— In women all that can be supplied 
 by the dancing-master, music-master, mantua-maker and milli- 
 ner. In men, tying a cravat, talking nonsense, playing at 
 billiards, dressing like a real, and driving like an amateur 
 coachman. The latter is an excusable ambition, even in our 
 modern gentlemen, for it shows that they know themselves, and 
 have found a more proper place, and more congenial elevation 
 than the Senate. Some there are, who, deeming dissolute 
 manners an accomplishment, endeavor to show by their profli- 
 
6 THE TIJS TEUMPET. 
 
 gacy that they know the world, an example which might be 
 dangerous, but that the world knows them. Accomplishments 
 are sociable — but nothing so sociable as a cultivated mind. 
 
 ACTION" — is Life. It is not work that kills men: but 
 worry. Work is healthy and invigorating; you can scarce 
 put more upon a man than he can bear. "Worry is rust upon 
 the blade. It is not the revolution, but the friction, which wears 
 out machinery. 
 
 Carlyle says, "men do less than they ought, unless they 
 do all that ~they can." And again, "the kind of speech in a 
 man betokens the kind of action you will get from him." 
 
 Also, it is written, " of every noble action, the intent is to 
 give worth reward — vice punishment." 
 
 ACTOR — Yivid conception, and keen sensibility, will not 
 of themselves make a good actor ; but it may be questioned 
 whether a good actor can be made without them. Rare indeed 
 is the physical and moral combination that produces a superior 
 performer, as will at once appear if we compare the best ama- 
 teur with a second or even a third-rate professional actor. 
 What miserable mummery are private theatricals ! At those 
 
 given last year at Hatfield House, old General G was 
 
 pressed by a lady to say whom he liked best of all the actors. 
 Notwithstanding his usual bluntness, he evaded the question 
 for some time, but being importuned for an answer, he at length 
 growled, — " Well, madam, if you will have a reply, I liked the 
 prompter the best, because I heard the most of him, and saw 
 the least of him ! " 
 
 ADDRESS — Generally a string of fulsome compliments and 
 professions, indiscriminately lavished upon every king or indi- 
 vidual in authority, in order to assure him of the particular, 
 personal, and exclusive veneration in which he is held by those 
 who, being the very obedient humble servants of circumstances, 
 would pay equal homage to Jack Ketch, if he possessed equal 
 power. In the latter case, they would perhaps attempt to 
 dignify Lis person and his office by some courteous periphrase, 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 7 
 
 or concealing both beneath the appropriate veil of a dead 
 language, would speak of him as — Vir excellentissimus, strangu- 
 landi peritus. 
 
 In a Shrewsbury Address to James I., his loyal subjects 
 expressed a wish that he might reign over them as long as sun, 
 moon, and stars should endure. — " I suppose, then," observed 
 the monarch, " they mean my successor to reign by candle- 
 light." 
 
 ADMIRATION — "We always love those who admire us, 
 says Rochefoucauld, but we do not always love those whom 
 we admire. From the latter clause an exception might have 
 been made in favor of self, for self-love is the source of self- 
 admiration ; and this is the safest of all loves, for most people 
 may indulge it without the fear of a rival. 
 
 ADYERSITY — is very often a blessing in disguise, which 
 by detaching us from earth and drawing us towards heaven, 
 gives us, in the assurance of lasting joys, an abundant recom- 
 pense for the loss of transient ones. " Whom the Lord loveth 
 he chasteneth." Many a man in losing his fortune has found 
 himself, and been ruined into salvation ; for though God 
 demands the whole heart, which we could not give him when 
 we shared it with the world, he will never reject the broken 
 one, which we offer him in our hour of sadness and reverse. 
 Misfortunes are moral bitters, which frequently restore the 
 healthy tone of the mind, after it has been cloyed and sickened 
 by the sweets of prosperity. The spoilt children of the world, 
 like their juvenile namesakes, are generally a source of unhap- 
 piness to others, without being happy in themselves. 
 
 ADMITTING yourself out of court, a legal phrase, signi- 
 fying a liberality of concession to your opponent by which 
 you destroy your own cause. This excess of candor was well 
 illustrated by the Irishman, who boasted that he had often 
 skated sixty miles a day. " Sixty miles ! " exclaimed an 
 auditor — " that is a great distance : it must have been accom- 
 
8 THE TIN" TEUMPET. 
 
 plished when the days were longest." — " To be- sure it was ; I 
 admit that," cried the ingenious Hibernian. 
 
 ADVICE — Almost the only commodity which the world 
 is lavish in bestowing, and scrupulous in receiving, although 
 it may be had gratis, with an allowance to those who take a 
 quantity. "We seldom ask it until it is too late, and still more 
 rarely take it while there is yet time to profit by it. Great 
 tact and delicacy are required, either in conferring or seeking 
 this perilous boon, for where people do not take your counsel 
 they generally take offence ; and even where they do, you can 
 never be sure that you have not given pain in giving advice. 
 "We have our revenge for this injustice. If an acquaintance 
 pursue some unfortunate course, in spite of our dissuasions, we 
 feel more gratified by the confirmation of our evil auguries, 
 than hurt by the misfortunes of our friend ; for that man must 
 be a sturdy moralist who does not love his own judgment 
 better than the interest of his neighbors. This may help to 
 explain Rochefoucauld's dictum, that there is something, even 
 in the misfortunes of our best friends, which is not altogether 
 displeasing to us. 
 
 To decline all advice, unless the example of the giver con- 
 firms his precepts, would be about as sapient as if a traveller 
 were to refuse to follow the directions of a finger-post, unless 
 it drew its one leg out of the ground, and walked, or rather 
 hopped after its own finger. 
 
 Good Advice is one of those injuries which a good man 
 ought, if possible, to forgive ; but at all events to forget at 
 once. 
 
 ADULTERER — One who has been guilty of perjury, com- 
 monly accompanied with ingratitude and hypocrisy, an offence 
 softened down by the courtesy of a sympathizing world, into 
 " a man of gallantry, a gay person somowhat too fond of 
 intrigue ; " or a woman " who has had a little slip, committed 
 a faux pas,'' 1 &c. — "Pleasant but wrong," was the apology of 
 the country squire, who being detected ill an intrigue with the 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 9 
 
 frail rib of his groom, maintained that he had not offended 
 against the law, since we are only commanded not to sin with 
 another man's wife, whereas, this was his own man's wife. 
 
 AFFECTION" — filial — an implanted instinct, exalted by a 
 feeling of gratitude and a sense of duty. — The Eoman daughter 
 who nourished her imprisoned father, when condemned to be 
 starved to death, from her own breast, has generally been 
 adduced as the noblest recorded instance of filial affection ; 
 but the palm may almost be contested by an Irish son, if we 
 may receive without suspicion the evidence of a fond and 
 doting father — " Ah now, my darlint ! " exclaimed the latter, 
 when his boy threatened to enlist in the army — " would you 
 be laving your poor ould father that dotes upon ye ? You, the 
 best and the most dutiful of all my children, and the only one 
 that never struck me when I was down ! " 
 
 AFFLICTION — A French writer, arguing, perhaps, from 
 the analogy of the English language, wherein two negatives 
 constitute an affirmative, observes that deux afflictions raises 
 ensemble peuvent devenir une consolation, an experiment which 
 few, we apprehend, will be anxious to try. Man has been 
 termed the child of affliction, an affiliation of which the 
 writer does not recognize the truth ; but for the benefit of 
 those who hold a contrary opinion, he ventures to plagiarize a 
 few stanzas versified from a prose apologue of Dr. Sheridan : 
 
 Affliction one day, as she hark'd to the roar 
 
 Of the stormy and struggling billow, 
 Drew a beautiful form on the sands of the shore, 
 
 With the branch of a weeping willow. 
 
 Jupiter, struck with the noble plan, 
 
 As he roamed on the verge of the ocean, 
 Breathed on the figure, and calling it Man, 
 
 Endued it with life- and motion. 
 
 A creature so glorious in mind and in frame, 
 
 So stamp'd with each parent's impression, 
 Among them a point of contention became, 
 
 Each claiming the right of possession. 
 
 1* 
 
10 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 "He is mine," said Affliction ; " I gave him his hirth, 
 
 I alone am his cause of creation " — 
 " The materials were furnished by me," answered Earth — 
 "I gave him," said Jove, "animation." 
 
 The gods, all assembled in solemn divan, 
 
 After hearing each claimant's petition, 
 Pronounced a definitive verdict on man, 
 
 And thus settled his fate's disposition. 
 
 " Let Affliction possess her own child, till the woes 
 Of life cease to harass and goad it ; 
 After death give his body to earth, whence it rose, 
 And his spirit to Jove, who bestowed it." 
 
 AGE — old — an infirmity which nobody knows. Nothing 
 can exceed our early impatience to escape from youth to man- 
 hood, and appear older than we are, except our subsequent 
 anxiety to obtain the reputation of being younger than we 
 are. The first longing is natural, for Hope is before us, and 
 it seems possible to anticipate that which we must soon reach ; 
 but the second is a weakness, not less strange than general, for 
 we cannot expect to recover that from which we are per- 
 petually flying, or avoid that to which we are incessantly 
 approaching. If by putting back our own date we could arrest 
 the great clock of time, there would be an intelligible motive 
 for our conduct. Alas ! the time-piece of old Chronos never 
 stops. 
 
 Women, who imagine their influence to depend upon their 
 personal attractions, naturally wish to preserve their youth. 
 It is in their power to do so ; for she who captivates the heart 
 and the understanding, never grows old : and as men are 
 generally estimated by their moral and intellectual, rather than 
 their baptismal recommendations ; as a philosopher of fifty is 
 preferred, by all those whose preference is worth having, to 
 a fool of twenty, there is something very contemptible in a 
 male horror of senility. So prevalent, however, is the feeling, 
 that, with the exception of one individual, who has obtained an 
 enviable immortality as " middle age LTallam," we have no 
 chronology for man and women at, or beyond the meridian of 
 life. They are all " persons of a certain age," which is the most 
 
THE TIN TEUMPET. 11 
 
 uncertain one upon record. Complimentary in every thing, the 
 French say of a woman thus circumstanced, that she is fernme 
 tiPun age raisonnable, as if she had gained, in her reasoning 
 faculties, what she had lost in personal charms ; and this, 
 douhtless, ought to he the process with us all. To our mind, as 
 to a preserving green-house, should we transfer, in the winter 
 of life, the attractions of our spring and summer. 
 
 As variety is universally allowed to he pleasing, the diver- 
 sity occasioned by the progress of age should, in itself, he a 
 source of delight. Perpetual sunshine would soon he found 
 more annoying than an alternation of the seasons ; so would 
 a continuous youth be more irksome than the gradual approach 
 of old age. Existence may be compared to a drum, which has 
 only one single tone ; but change of time gives it variety and 
 cheerfulness enough. 
 
 The infirmity of falsifying our age is at least as old as 
 Cicero, who, hearing one of his contemporaries attempting to 
 make himself ten years younger than he really was, drily 
 observed — " Then at the time you and I were at school to- 
 gether, you were not born." 
 
 ALCHEMIST — The true possessor of the philosopher's 
 stone is the miner, whose iron, copper, and tin, are always 
 convertible into the more prceious metals. Agriculture is the 
 noblest of all alchemy, for it turns earth, and even manure into 
 gold, conferring upon its cultivator the additional reward of 
 health. Most appropriate was the rebuke of Pope Leo X., 
 who, when a visionary pretended to have discovered the phi- 
 losopher's stone, and demanded a recompense, gave him an 
 empty purse. 
 
 ALDERMAN" — A ventri-potential citizen, into whose med- 
 iterranean mouth good things are perpetually flowing, although 
 none come out. His shoulders, like some of the civic streets, 
 are " widened at the expense of the corporation." He resem- 
 bles Wolsey ; not in ranking himself with princes, but in being 
 a man " of an unbounded stomach." A tooth is the only 
 wise thing in his head, and he has nothing particularly good 
 
12 THE TIN TEUMPET. 
 
 about him except his digestion, which is an indispensable 
 quality, since he is destined to become great by gormandizing, 
 to masticate his way to the Mansion-house, and thus, like a 
 mouse in a cheese, to provide for himself a large dwelling, by 
 continually eating. His talent is in his jaws ; and like a mil- 
 ler, the more he grinds the more he gets. From the quantity 
 he devours, it might be supposed that he had two stomachs, 
 like a cow, were it not manifest that he is no ruminating an- 
 imal. 
 
 ALMS — To this word there is no singular, in order to 
 teach us that a solitary act of charity scarcely deserves the 
 name. Nothing is won by one gift. To render our bounties 
 available, they must be in the plural number. It is always 
 
 wise to be charitable, but it is almost peculiar to my friend L 
 
 that he is often witty in his bounties. He was about to assist 
 with a sum of money a scribbler in distress, when he was re- 
 minded that he had on more than one occasion been libelled 
 and maligned by the intended object of his bounty. " Pooh," 
 
 said L , " I have so long known all his slanders by heart, 
 
 that they have quite gone out of my head." 
 
 ALPHABET — Twenty-six symbols which represent singly, 
 or in combination, all the sounds of all the languages upon 
 earth. By forming letters into words, which are the signs of 
 ideas, we are enabled to embody thought, to render it visible, 
 audible, perpetual, and ubiquitous. Embalmed in writing, the 
 intellect may thus enjoy a species of immortality upon earth, 
 and every man may paint an imperishable portrait of his own 
 mind, immeasurably more instructive and interesting to pos- 
 terity than those fleeting likenesses of the face and form en- 
 trusted to canvas, or even to bronze and marble. "What 
 myriads have passed away, body and mind, leaving not a 
 wreck behind them, while the mental features of some con- 
 temporary writer survive in all the freshness and integrity 
 with which they were first traced. Were I a literary painter 
 how often should I be tempted in the pride of my heart, to 
 
 Ed io anche sono Pittore." 
 
THE TIN TKUMPET. 13 
 
 Although the word be derived from the two first letters 
 of the Greek, every alphabet dow in use may be traced 
 with historical certainty to one original — the Phenician or 
 Syriac. " Phenicia and Palestine," says Gibbon, " will for- 
 ever live in the memory of mankind ; since America, as well 
 as Europe, has received letters from the one and religion from 
 the other." 
 
 One of the earliest French princes being too indolent or 
 too stupid to acquire his alphabet by the ordinary process, 
 twenty-four servants were placed in attendance upon him, 
 each with a huge letter painted upon his stomach; as he 
 knew not their names he was obliged to call them by their 
 letter when he wanted their services, which in due time gave 
 him the requisite degree of literature for the exercise of the 
 royal functions. 
 
 AMBIGUITY — A quality deemed essentially necessary to 
 the clear understanding of diplomatic writings, acts of Con- 
 gress, and law proceedings. 
 
 AMBITION — A mental dropsy, which keeps continually 
 swelling and increasing until it kills its victim. Ambition is 
 often overtaken by calamity, because it is not aware of its 
 pursuer, and never looks behind. "Deeming naught done 
 while aught remains to do," it is necessarily restless ; unable 
 to bear any thing above it, discontent must be its inevitable 
 portion, for even if the pinnacle of worldly power be gained, 
 its occupant will sigh, like Alexander, for another globe to 
 conquer. Every day that brings us some advancement or 
 success, brings us also a day nearer to death, embittering the 
 reflection, that the more we have gained, the more we have 
 to relinquish. Aspiring to nothing but humility, the wise 
 man will make it the height of his ambition to be unambitious. 
 As he cannot effect all that he wishes, he will only wish for 
 that which he can effect. 
 
 AMBLE — Of this indefinite and intermediate pace, which, 
 (to adopt the Johnsonian style,) " without the concussiveness 
 
14 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 of the trot, or the celerity of the canter, neither contributes 
 to the conservation of health, nor to the economy of time, 
 nothing can be pronounced in eulogy, and little, therefore, 
 need be said in description." To those elderly gentlemen, 
 nevertheless, who are willing to sacrifice the perilous reputa- 
 tion of a good seat for the comfort of a safe one ; an ambling 
 nag has always been an equestrian beatitude. Such was the 
 feeling of the Sexagenarian, who took his horse to the menage, 
 that it might be taught the " old gentleman's pace." As the 
 riding-master, after several trials, could not immediately suc- 
 ceed in his object, the owner of the animal petulantly cried 
 out—" Zooks, Sir, do you call this an amble ? "— " No, Sir," 
 was the reply, " I call it a pre-amble." 
 
 ANCESTRY— 
 
 " They who on length of ancestry enlarge, 
 Produce their debt instead of their discharge." 
 
 They search in the root of the tree for those fruits which the 
 branches ought to produce, and too often resemble potatoes, 
 of which the best part is under ground. Pedigree is the boast 
 of those who have nothing else to vaunt. In what respect, 
 after all, are they superior to the humblest of their neigh- 
 bors? Every man's ancestors double at each remove" in geo- 
 metrical proportion, so that, after only twenty generations, he 
 has above a million of progenitors. A duke has no more ; a 
 dustman has no less. 
 
 A river generally becomes narrower and more insignifi- 
 cant as we ascend to its source. The stream of ancestry, on 
 the contrary, often vigorous, pure, and powerful at its fountain 
 head, usually becomes more feeble, shallow, and corrupt as it 
 flows downwards. Some of our ancient families, whose origin 
 is lost in the darkness of antiquity, and into whose hungry 
 maws the tide of patronage is forever flowing, may be com- 
 pared to the Nile, which has many mouths, and no discovera- 
 ble head. Nobles sometimes illustrate that name about as 
 much as an Italian Cicerone recalls that idea of Cicero. 
 
 It is a double shame for a man to have derived distinction 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 15 
 
 from his predecessors, if he bequeath disgrace to his pos- 
 terity. 
 
 " Heraldic honors on the base, 
 
 Do but degrade their wearers more, 
 As sweeps, whom May-day trappings grace, 
 Show ten times blacker than before." 
 
 ANCIENTS — Dead bones used for the purpose of knock- 
 ing down live flesh. Every puny Samson thinks he may 
 wield his ass's jaw-bone in assaulting his contemporaries, by 
 comparing them with their predecessors. If architects at- 
 tempt any thing original, they are ridiculed for their pains, 
 and desired to stick to the five orders. This is the sixth order 
 of the public. If artists follow the bent of their own genius, 
 they are tauntingly referred by their new masters to the old 
 masters, and desired not to indulge their own crude capriccios. 
 Authors are schooled and catechized in the same way ; but 
 when either of the three conform to the instructions of their 
 critics, they are instantly and unmercifully assailed as servile 
 imitators, without a single grain of originality. Whether, 
 therefore, they allow the ancients to be imitable or inimitable, 
 it is manifest that they only exalt them in order to lower 
 their contemporaries, and that their suffrages would be re- 
 versed, if the ancients and moderns were to change places. 
 "With a similar jealousy we give a preference to old wine, old 
 books, and an old friend, unless the latter should appear in 
 the form of an old joke, when he is treated with the utmost 
 6Corn and contumely. As this is equally reprehensible and 
 inconsistent, I shall endeavor to cure my readers of any such 
 propensity, by habituating them to encounters with some of 
 their old Joe Miller acquaintance. 
 
 ANGER — Punishing ourselves for the faults of another ; 
 or committing an additional error, if we are incensed at our 
 own mistakes. In either case, wrath may aggravate, but was 
 never known to diminish our annoyance. "I wish," says 
 Seneca, " that anger could always be exhausted, when its first 
 weapon was broken, and that like the bees, who leave their 
 stings in the wound they make, we could only inflict a single 
 
16 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 injury." To a certain extent this wish is often fulfilled, for 
 the same writer observes, that anger is like a ruin, which, in 
 falling upon its victim, breaks itself to pieces. 
 
 "Without any other armor than an offended frown, an 
 indignant eye, and a rebuking voice, decrepit age, timid 
 womanhood, the weakest of our species, may daunt the most 
 daring ; for there is something formidable in the mere sight 
 of wrath ; even where it is incapable of inflicting any chas- 
 tisement upon its provoker. It has thus a preventive opera- 
 tion, by making us cautious of calling it forth, and restrains 
 more effectually by the fear of its ebullitions, than it could by 
 their actual outbreakings ; while it still retains a positive in- 
 fluence when aroused. Anger, in short, is a moral power, 
 which tends to repair the inequalities of physical power, and 
 to approximate the strong and the weak towards the same 
 level. 
 
 So carefully, however, are our constitutional instincts 
 guarded against abuse, that the moral and physical vigor im- 
 parted to us by anger as a salutary means of defence, is im- 
 mediately lessened, when by its intemperate and reckless 
 exercise, we would pervert it into a dangerous instrument of 
 aggression. Blind and ungovernable rage, approaching to the 
 nature of madness, not only obscures the reason, but often 
 paralyzes, for the moment, the bodily energies ; a paroxysm 
 which fortunately serves as a protection both to ourselves and 
 others. This seasonable arrest of our functions gives us time 
 to sanify, and we are allowed to recover them, when their 
 exercise is no longer dangerous. Protective nature makes us 
 sometimes blind and weak, when highly excited ; for the same 
 reason that the fleet grayhound has no sense of smell, and the 
 quick-scented bloodhound no swiftness of foot. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth discovered qualities in anger which may 
 not be obvious to common observers. "What does a man 
 think of when he thinks of nothing? " her Majesty demanded 
 of a choleric courtier, to whom she had not realized her prom- 
 ise of promotion. " He thinks, madam, of a woman's prom- 
 ise," was the tart reply. " Well, I must not confute him," 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 17 
 
 said the Queen, walking away, " anger makes men witty, but 
 it keeps them poor." 
 
 ANGLER — A fish-butcher— a piscatory assassin — a Jack 
 Ketch — catcher of Jack, an impaler of live worms, frogs, and 
 flies, a torturer of trout, a killer of carp, and a great gudgeon 
 who sacrifices the best part of his life in taking aWay the life 
 of a little gudgeon. Every thing appertaining to the angler's 
 art, is cowardly, .cruel, treacherous, and cat-like. He is a 
 professional dealer in " treasons, stratagems, and plots ;" more 
 subtle and sneaking than a poacher, and more exclusively de- 
 voted to snares, traps, and subterfuges ; he is at the same time 
 infinitely more remorseless, finding amusement and delight in 
 prolonging, to the last gasp, the agonies of the impaled bait, 
 and of the wretched fish writhing with a barb in its entrails. 
 
 The high priest of anglers is that demure destroyer, old 
 Izaak "Walton, who may be literally termed the Hookek of 
 their piscatory polity. Because he could write a line as well 
 as throw one, they would persuade themselves that he has 
 shed a sort of classical dignity on their art, and even asso- 
 ciated it with piety and poetry, — what profanation! The 
 poet is not only a lover of his species, but of all sentient 
 beiDgs, because he "looks through nature up to Nature's 
 God." But how can an angler be pious ! How can a tor- 
 mentor of the creature be a lover of the Creator ? Away 
 with such cant ! Old Izaak must either have been a demure 
 hypocrite, or a blockhead, unaware of the gross inconsistency 
 between his profession and his practice. If he saw a fine 
 trout, and wished to trouble him with a line, just to say he 
 should be very happy to see him to dinner, he must first tor- 
 ture his postman, the bait, and make him carry the letters of 
 Bellerophon. Hark how tenderly the gentle ruffian gives di- 
 rections for baiting with a frog : u Put your hook through 
 the mouth, and out of his gills, and then with a fine needle 
 and silk, sew the upper part of his leg, with only one stitch to 
 the arming wire of the hook, and in so doing, use him as 
 though you loved him.'' 1 
 
18 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 Tender hearted Izaak ! — "What would be his treatment of 
 animals whom he did not love ? 
 
 An angler may be meditative, or rather musing, but let 
 him not ever think that he thinks, for if he had the healthy 
 power of reflection, he could not be an angler. If sensible 
 and amiable men are still to be seen squatted for hours in a 
 punt, "like patience on a monument smiling at grief," they 
 are as much out of their element as the fish in their basket, 
 and could only be reconciled to their employment by a reso- 
 lute blinking of the question. In one of the admirable papers 
 of the "Indicator," Leigh Hunt says — "We really cannot see 
 what equanimity there is in jerking a lacerated carp out of 
 the water by the jaws, merely because it has not the power of 
 making a noise ; for we presume, that the most philosophic of 
 anglers would hardly delight in catching shrieking fish." This 
 is not so clear. Old Izaak, their patriarch, would have prob- 
 ably maintained that the shriek was a cry of pleasure. We 
 willingly leave the anglers to their rod, for they deserve it, 
 and we allow them to defend one another, not only because 
 they have no other advocates, but because we are sure that 
 the rest of the community would be glad to see them Jiang 
 together, especially if they should make use of their own lines. 
 
 Averse as we are from extending the sphere of the angler's 
 cruelty, we will mention one fish which old Izaak himself had 
 never caught. A wealthy tradesman having ordered a fish- 
 pond at his country house to be cleared out, the foreman dis- 
 covered, at the bottom, a spring of ferruginous colored water ; 
 and, on returning to the house, told his employer that they 
 had found a chalybeate. " I am glad of it," exclaimed the 
 worthy citizen, " for I never saw one. Put it in the basket 
 with the other fish, I'll come and look at it presently." 
 
 ANNUALS — illustrated. — The second childhood of litera- 
 ture, the patrons of which carefully look over the plates, and 
 studiously overlook the letter-press. Its object is to substitute 
 the visible for the imaginative, a sensual for an intellectual' 
 pleasure, and to teach us to read engravings instead of writ- 
 ings. 
 
THE TIN TETJMPET. 19 
 
 ANSWERS — to the point are more satisfactory to the 
 interrogator, but answers from the point may be sometimes 
 more entertaining to the auditor. " Were you born in wed- 
 lock ? " asked a counsel of a witness. " No, Sir, in Devon- 
 shire," was the reply. — " Young woman," said a magistrate to 
 a girl who was about to be sworn, " why do you hold the 
 book upside down ? " — " I am obliged, Sir, because I am left- 
 handed." — See Josephus Molitor. A written non sequitur, not 
 less amusing, was involved in the postscript of the man who 
 hoped his correspondent would excuse faults of spelling, if 
 any, as he had no knife to mend his pens. 
 
 ANTINOMIANS— An antithesis to the Society for the Sup- 
 pression of Vice. If we did not know that the best things 
 perverted become the worst, we might wonder that the Chris- 
 tian religion should have ever generated a sect, whose doc- 
 trines are professedly anti-moral. Many, however, are still to 
 be found, who, maintaining that the moral law is nothing to 
 man, and that he is not bound to obey it, avow an open 
 contempt for good works, and affirm, that as God sees no sin 
 in believers, they are neither obliged to confess it, nor to pray 
 for its forgiveness. In this most perilous spirit many tracts 
 have been published, 
 
 " Which, in the semblance of devotion, 
 
 Allure their victim to offence, 
 And then administer a potion, 
 
 To soothe and lull his conscience ; 
 Teaching him, that to break all ties, 
 May be a wholesome sacrifice ; 
 That saints, like bowls, may go astray, 
 Better to win the proper way ; 
 Indulge in every sin at times, 
 
 To prove that grace is never lacking: 
 And purify themselves by crimes, 
 
 As dirty shoes are cleaned by blacking." 
 
 ANTIQUARY — Too often a collector of valuables that are 
 worth nothing, and a recollector of all that Time has been glad 
 to forget. His choice specimens have become rarities, simply 
 because they were never worth preserving ; and he attaches 
 
20 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 present importance to them in exact proportion to their for- 
 mer insignificance. A worthy of this unworthy class was 
 once edifying the French Academy with a most unmerciful 
 detail of the comparative prices of commodities at various 
 remote periods, when La Fontaine observed, " Our friend 
 knows the value of every thing, — except time." "We recom- 
 mend this anecdote to the special consideration of the ci-devant 
 members of the Roxburgh Club, as well as to the resuscitators 
 of the dead lumber of antiquity. 
 
 ANTIQUITY — The stalking horse on which knaves and 
 bigots invariably mount, when they want to ride over the 
 timid and the credulous. Never do we hear so much solemn 
 palaver about the time-hallowed institutions, and approved 
 wisdom of our ancestors, as when attempts are made to re- 
 move some staring monument of their folly. Thus is the 
 youth, nonage, ignorance, and inexperience of the world in- 
 vested by a strange blunder, which Bacon was the first to 
 indicate, with the reverence due to the present times, which 
 are its true old age. 
 
 Antiquity is the* young miscreant, the type of commingled 
 ignorance and tyranny, who massacred prisoners taken in 
 war, sacrificed human beings to idols, burnt them in Smith- 
 field as heretics or witches, believed in astrology, demonology, 
 sorcery, the philosopher's stone, and every exploded folly and 
 enormity; although his example is still gravely urged as a 
 rule of conduct, and a standing argument against innovation, 
 — that is to say, improvement ! If the seal of time were to 
 be the signet of truth, there is no absurdity, oppression, or 
 falsehood, that might not be received as gospel ; while the 
 Gospel itself would want the more ancient warrant of Pagan- 
 ism. Never was the world so old, and consequently so wise, 
 as it is to-day ; but it will be older, and, therefore, still wiser, 
 to-morrow. 
 
 In one generation, the most ancient individual has gener- 
 ally the most experience ; but in a succession of generations, 
 the youngest, or last of them, is the real Methuselah and Men- 
 tor. To this obvious distinction, nothing can blind us but 
 
THE TIN TEUMPET. 21 
 
 gross stupidity, or the most miserable cant. To plead the 
 authority of the ancients, is to appeal from civilized and en- 
 lightened Christians, to fierce, unlettered Pagans ; for no one 
 has decided where this boasted wisdom begins or ends, though 
 all agree that it is of great age. Every elderly man is an an- 
 cestor to his former self. Let him compare his boyish notions 
 and feelings with his matured judgment, and he will form a 
 pretty correct notion of the wisdom of our ancestors; for 
 what the child is to the man, are the past generations to the 
 present. 
 
 Let us learn to distinguish the uses from the abuses of an- 
 tiquity. Not to know what happened before we were born, is 
 always to remain a child : to know, and blindly to adopt that 
 knowledge, as an implicit rule of life, is never to be a man. 
 
 APOLOGY — As great a peacemaker as the word "if." 
 In all cases, it is an excuse rather than an exculpation, and if 
 adroitly managed, may be made to confirm what it seems to 
 recall, and to aggravate the offence which it pretends to ex- 
 tenuate. A man who had accused his neighbor of falsehood, 
 was called on for an apology, which he gave in the following 
 amphibological terms : — " I called you a liar, — it is true. 
 You spoke truth : I have told a lie." 
 
 APPEARANCES — keeping up. A moral, or, rather, im- 
 moral uttering of counterfeit coin. It is astonishing how 
 much human bad money is current in society, bearing the fair 
 impress of ladies and gentlemen. The former, if carefully 
 weighed, will always be found light, or you may presently de- 
 tect if you ring them, though this is a somewhat perilous 
 experiment. Both may be known by their assuming a more 
 gaudy and showy appearance than their neighbors, as if 
 their characters were brighter, their impressions more perfect, 
 and their composition more pure, than all others. 
 
 APPETITE — a relish bestowed upon the poorer classes, 
 that they may like what they eat, while it is seldom enjoyed 
 by the rich, because they may eat what they like. 
 
22 THE TIN TKUMPET. 
 
 ARCHITECTURE— Why we should continue to enslave 
 ourselves to the five orders of Yitruvius, I cannot well see. 
 To the art of the statuary there is a conceivable limit, but that 
 of the architect seems to admit a much wider range, and 
 greater variety, than can he circumscribed within five orders. 
 All structures should be adapted to the climate. 
 
 Is there any valid reason why the Doric capital should be 
 peculiar to a pillar whose height is precisely eight diameters, 
 the Ionic volute to one of nine, and the Corinthian foliage to 
 one of ten ? Custom has assigned these ornaments and pro- 
 portions, but one can imagine others which would be equally, 
 or, perhaps, more agreeable to an unprejudiced eye. The first 
 columns were undoubtedly trees, which diminished as they 
 ascended. The stems of the branches, where they were cut 
 off, suggested the capital ; the iron or other bandages at top 
 and bottom, to prevent the splitting of the wood, were the 
 origin of the fillets ; the square tile which protected the lower 
 end from the wet, gave rise to the plinth. But why should a 
 stone pillar be made to imitate a tree, by lessening as it rises ? 
 Custom alone has reconciled us to an unmeaning deviation, 
 which throws all the inter-columnar spaces out of the perpen- 
 dicular, and presents us with a series of long inverted cones, 
 the most ungraceful of all forms. As if sensible of this defect, 
 the Egyptians made the outline of some of their temples con- 
 form to the diminution of the columns, rendering the whole 
 structure slightly pyramidical, and thus preserving the consist- 
 ency of its lines. 
 
 Observing some singular pilasters at Harrowgate, sur- 
 mounted with the Cornua Ammonis, I ventured to ask the 
 builder to what order they belonged. "Why, Sir," he re- 
 plied, putting his hand to his head, " the horns are a little 
 order of my own." Knowing him to be a married man, I 
 concluded that he had good reason for appropriating that pe- 
 culiar ornament to himself, and made no further objections to 
 his architecture. 
 
 ARGUMENT — With fools, passion, vociferation, or vio- 
 lence ; with ministers, a majority ; with kings, the sword ; with 
 fanatics, denunciation ; with men of sense, a sound reason. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 23 
 
 AKISTOCEAOY — In ancient Greece this word signified 
 the government of the best ; but in modern England the term 
 seems to have fairly " turned its back upon itself," and to have 
 become the antithesis to its original import ; even as beldam, 
 (or lelle dame,) formerly expressive of female beauty, is now 
 defined by Dr. Johnson as, "a term of contempt, marking the 
 last degree of old age with all its faults and miseries." 
 
 If we have noblemen whose titles are their honor, we have 
 others who are an honor to their titles. Happy he, who, 
 deriving his patent from nature, as well as from his sovereign, 
 may be dubbed, " inter doctos nobilissimus, — inter nodiles doc- 
 tusimus, — inter utrosque opti'mus" 
 
 ARITHMETIC — The science of figures cuts but a poor 
 figure in its origin, the term calculation being derived from 
 the calculus or pebble used as a counter by the Eomans, 
 whose numerals, stolen from the ancient Etruscans, and still 
 to be traced on the monuments of that people, seem to have 
 been suggested in the first instance by the five fingers. In- 
 deed, the term digit or finger, applied to any single number, 
 sufficiently indicates the primitive mode of counting. The 
 Roman V is a rude outline of the five fingers, or of the out- 
 spread hand, narrowing to the wrist ; while the X is a symbol 
 of the two fives, or two hands crossed. In all probability the 
 earliest numerals did not exceed five, which was repeated, with^ 
 additions, for the higher numbers; and it is a remarkable 
 coincidence that to express six, seven, eight, the North Amer- 
 ican Indians repeat the five, with the addition of one, two, 
 three, on the same plan as the Roman VI., VII., VIII. Our 
 term eleven is derived from the word ein or one, and the old 
 verb liben, to leave ; so that it signifies one, leave ten. Twelve 
 means two, after reckoning or laying aside ten ; and our ter- 
 mination of ty, in the words twenty, thirty, &c, comes from 
 the Anglo-Saxon teg, to draw; so that twenty, or twainty, 
 signifies two drawings, or that the fingers have been twice 
 counted over, and the hands twice closed. 
 
 From the hands also, or other parts of the human body, 
 were derived the original rude measurements. The uncia, or 
 
24 THE TIN TEUMPET. 
 
 inch, was the first joint of the thumb, which being repeated 
 four times, gave the breadth of the hand ; and this product 
 trippled, furnished the measure of the foot. The passus, or 
 pace, was the interval between two steps, reckoned at six 
 feet ; and a mile, as the word imports, consisted of a thousand 
 paces. Other portions of the human body furnished secondary- 
 measures ; the width of the hand gave the palm, reckoned at 
 three inches : — the distances of the elbow from the tips of 
 the fingers, the cubit ; the entire length of the arm, the yard ; 
 and the extreme breadth of the extended arm, across the 
 shoulders, the fathom, or six feet. 
 
 The Arabic numerals, derived, in all probability, from the 
 Persians, and brought into Europe by the Moors, were a great 
 improvement upon the clumsy system of the Eomans ; but it 
 is to be regretted that we have not adopted the duodecimal in 
 preference to the decimal scale, as it mounts faster, and being 
 more often divisible in the desending series, would express 
 fractions with a great simplicity. 
 
 ART — Man's nature. Of all cants defend me from that 
 cant of Art which substitutes a blind and indiscriminate rev- 
 erence of the painter, provided he be dead, for a judicious 
 admiration of his paintings. Our connoisseurs reverse the 
 old adage, and prefer a dead dog to a living lion. They are 
 .Antinomian in their critical creed ; they susbstitute faith for 
 good works, and will fall prostrate before any daub provided it 
 be sanctified by a popular name. 
 
 It may be objected that no artist would have acquired a 
 great name unless he had been a great painter ; a position to 
 which there are exceptions, although we will grant it for the 
 sake of argument. But an artist who might command uni- 
 versal admiration in the olden times, is no necessary model 
 for the present. Surely our protrait painters need not study 
 Holbein. Many of the old masters, avowedly deficient in 
 drawing and composition, were celebrated for their coloring, 
 a merit which the mere effects of time, in the course of three 
 or four centuries, must inevitably destroy; and yet Titian, 
 the great colorist of his day, but whose pictures have mostly 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 25 
 
 faded into a eold dimness, is still held up to admiration, be- 
 cause his bright and blended hues delighted the good folks of 
 the fifteenth century. The pictures of Eubens preserve the 
 richness of their broad tints, which we can admire without 
 being blind to the vulgarity of his taste and his bad drawing, 
 for his females are little better than so many Dutch Yrowes — 
 coarse, flabby, and clownish. To a genuine connoisseur, how- 
 ever, every one of them is, doubtless, a Yenus de Medici ; not 
 because she is handsome or well-proportioned, for she is 
 neither, but because she is painted by Eubens. 
 
 This idolatry of the artist and indifference to art, has 
 had a very mischievous effect in England, first, by withdraw- 
 ing encouragement from our countrymen and contemporaries, 
 and, secondly, by injuring their taste in holding up as models 
 for imitation, not the paintings of nature, but old Continental 
 pictures, which, even supposing them to be genuine, have often 
 lost the sole distinction that once conferred a value upon them. 
 But in many instances they are spurious, for the high prices 
 which we so absurdly lavish upon them, has called into ex- 
 istence, in the chief Italian towns, manufactories of copies 
 and counterfeits for the sole supply of England, in which 
 happy and discerning country may be found ten times more 
 pictures of each of the old masters than could have been 
 painted in a long life. Neither the most experienced artist, 
 nor knowing virtuoso, can guard against this species of impo- 
 * sition. It is well known that Sir Joshua Eeynolds, even in 
 that branch of the art with which he was most conversant, 
 was perpetually deceived, his collections swarming with false 
 Correggios, Titians, and Michael Angelos. "What wonder, 
 then, that an old picture, as often happens, shall sell to-day 
 for a thousand pounds, and that to-morrow, stripped of its 
 supposed authenticity, stat nominis umbra, and shall not fetch 
 ten ? and yet it is as good and as bad one day as it was the 
 other, viewed as a work of art. So besotting is the magic of 
 a name. 
 
 To these pseudo-connoisseurs, who bring their own nar- 
 row professional feelings to the appreciation of a work of art, 
 we recommend the following authentic anecdote : — A thriving 
 2 
 
26 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 tailor, anxious to transmit his features to posterity, inquired 
 of a young artist what were Ms terms for a half length. " I 
 charge twenty-five guineas for a head," was the reply. The 
 protrait was painted and approved, when the knight of the 
 thimble, taking out his purse, demanded how much he was 
 to pay. " I told you before that my charge for a head was 
 twenty-five guineas." — "I am aware of that," said Snip; 
 " but how much more for the coat ? — it is the best part of 
 the picture." 
 
 ASCETIC — Dr. Johnson has observed that the shortness 
 of life has afforded as many arguments to the voluptuary as 
 to the moralist, and there can be no doubt that the ascetic, in 
 his cell, is seeking his own happiness with as much selfishness 
 as the professed epicurean : one betakes himself to immediate, 
 the other to remote gratifications ; one devotes himself to sen- 
 suality, the other to mortification ; one to bodily, the other, 
 perhaps, to intellectual pleasures ; one to this world, the other 
 to the next ; but the principle of action is the same in both 
 parties, and the ascetic is, perhaps, the most selfish calculator 
 of the two, inasmuch as the reward he claims is infinitely 
 greater and of longer endurance. He is usurious in his deal- 
 ing with heaven, and does not put out the smallest mortifica- 
 tion except upon the most enormous interest. His very self- 
 denial is selfish, for the odds are incalculably in favor of the 
 man who bets body against soul. 
 
 They who imperiously imagine that the happiness of the 
 Creator consists in the unhappiness of the creature, are thus 
 offending Him in their very fear of giving offence, since they 
 find sweetness even in their sourness, and a joy in the very 
 want of it. Well for them, too, if they go not astray, in their 
 over anxiety to walk straight. " As for those that will not 
 take lawful pleasures," says old Fuller, " I am afraid they will 
 take unlawful pleasure, and by lacing themselves too hard, 
 grow awry on one side." 
 
 To the same purport we may quote the observation of the 
 French writer, Balzac : "Si ceuxqui sont ennemis des diver tisse- 
 mens honnetes avoient la direction du monde. Us voudroient 
 
THE TEST TRUMPET. 27 
 
 dter le printemps et la jeunesse, — Vun de Vannee. et V autre de 
 la vie." If these enemies of innocent amusement had the 
 ruling of the world, they would abolish spring-time and 
 youth — the one from the year, the other from life. 
 
 ATHEIST — Supposing such an anomaly to exist, an athe- 
 ist must be the most miserable of beings. The idea of a 
 fatherless world, swinging by some blind law of chance, 
 which may every moment expose it to destruction, through 
 an infinite space, filled, perhaps, with nothing but suffering 
 and wretchedness, unalleviated by the prospect of a future 
 and a happier state, must be almost intolerable to a man who 
 has a single spark of benevolence in his bosom. " All the 
 splendor of the highest prosperity," says Adam Smith, "can 
 never enlighten the gloom with which so dreadful an idea 
 must necessarily overshadow the imagination ; nor in a wise 
 and virtuous man can all the sorrow of the most afflicting ad- 
 versity ever dry up the joy which necessarily springs from the 
 habitual and thorough conviction of the truth of the contrary 
 system." 
 
 The word atheist has done yeoman's service as a nick-name 
 wherewith to pelt all those who disapprove of the thirty-nine 
 articles, or who venture to surmise that there are abuses in 
 the Church which need reform ; but this sort of dirt has been 
 thrown until it will no longer stick, except to the fingers of 
 those who handle it. The real atheist is the Mammonite, 
 who, making " godliness a great gain," worships a golden calf, 
 and calls it a God : or the miserable fanatic, who, endowing the 
 phantom of his own folly and fear with the worst passions of 
 the worst men, dethrones the deity to set up a demon, and 
 curses all those who will not curse themselves by joining in 
 his idolatry. 
 
 AUDIENCE — A crowd of people in a large theatre, so 
 called because they cannot hear. The actors speak to them 
 with their hands and feet, and the spectators listen to them 
 with their eyes. 
 
28 THE TIN TEUMPET. 
 
 AUTHOK — original — One who, copying only from the 
 works of the great Author of the world, never plagiarises, 
 except from the book of nature ; whereas the imitator derives 
 his inspiration from the writings of his fellow-men, and has no 
 thought except as to the best mode of purloining the thoughts 
 of others. Authors are lamps, exhausting themselves to give 
 light to others ; or rather may they be compared to industri- 
 ous bees, not because they are armed with a sting, but because 
 they gather honey from every flower, only that their hive may 
 be plundered when their toil is completed. By the iniquitous 
 law of copyright, an author's property in the offspring of his 
 own intellect, is wrested from him in the end of a few years ; 
 previously to which period, the bookseller is generally oblig- 
 ing enough to ease him of the greater portion of the profit. 
 
 Against the former injustice, however, most writers secure 
 themselves by the evanescent nature of their works ; and as 
 to the latter, we must confess after all, that the bookseller is 
 the best Maecenas. 
 
 For the flattery lavished upon a first successful work, an 
 author often pays dearly by the abuse poured upon its succes- 
 sors ; for we all measure ourselves by our best production, 
 and others by their worst. "Writers are too often treated by 
 the public, as crimps serve recruits, — made drunk first, only 
 that they may be safely rattaned all the rest of their lives. 
 
 An author is more annoyed by abuse than gratified by 
 praise ; because he looks upon the latter as a right and the 
 former as a wrong. And this opens a wider question as to 
 the constitution of our nature, both moral and physical, which 
 is susceptible of pain in a much greater and more intense de- 
 gree than of pleasure. We have no bodily enjoyment to 
 counterbalance the agony of an acute tooth-ache ; nor any 
 mental one that can form a set-off against despair. Nowhere 
 is this more glaringly illustrated than in the descriptions of our 
 future rewards and punishments, the miseries and the anguish 
 of hell being abundantly definite and intelligible, while the 
 heavenly beatitudes are dimly shadowed forth, as being beyond 
 the imagination of man to conceive. 
 
 An author's living purgatory is his liability to be consulted 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 29 
 
 as to the productions of literary amateurs, both, male and fe- 
 male. The annoyance of reading them can only be equalled 
 by that of pronouncing upon their merits. Oh, that every 
 scribbler would recollect the dictum of Dr. Johnson upon this 
 subject: " You must consider beforehand, that such effusions 
 may be bad as well as good ; and nobody has a right to put 
 another under such a difficulty, that he must either hurt the 
 person by telling the truth, or hurt himself by telling what is 
 not true." 
 
 Between authors and artists there should be no jealousy, 
 for their pursuits are congenial ; one paints with the pen, the 
 other writes with a brush ; and yet it is difficult for either to be 
 quite impartial, in weighing the merits of their different avo- 
 cations. The author of the " Pleasures of Hope," being at a 
 dinner party with Mr. Turner, E. A., whose enthusiasm for 
 his art led him to speak of it and of its professors as superior to 
 all others, the bard arose, and after alluding with mock grav- 
 ity to his friend's skill in varnishing painters as well as paint- 
 ings, proposed the health of Mr. Turner, and the worshipful 
 company of Painters and Glaziers. This (to use the newspa- 
 per phrase) called up Mr. Turner, who with a similar solem- 
 nity expressed his sense of the honor he had received, made 
 some good-humored allusions to blotters of foolscap, whose 
 works were appropriately bound in calf ; and concluded by 
 proposing in return, the health of Mr. Campbell, and the 
 worshipful company of Paper-stainers — a rejoinder that ex- 
 cited a general laugh, in which none joined more heartily than 
 the poet himself. 
 
 AUTHOES — origin of— a most difficult question to decide. 
 For if there were no readers there certainly would be no 
 writers. Clearly, therefore, the existence of writers depends 
 upon the existence of readers ; and of course, as the cause 
 must be antecedent to the effect, readers existed before 
 writers. Yet, on the other hand, if there were no writers 
 there could be no readers, so it should appear that writers 
 must be antecedent to readers. This seems much on a par 
 with the profound discovery of Lucretius, that eyes were 
 
30 THE TIN TKUMPET. 
 
 not made to see with, but being formed by a fortuitous con- 
 currence of atoms, sight followed as an unforeseen accident ; 
 for, quoth he , if eyes were made to see withal, then seeing 
 must have existed before eyes, and if seeing existed before 
 eyes, what could be the use of eyes ; and if seeing did not 
 exist before eyes, how could eyes be made for that which is 
 not — that is, for nothing ? Clearly, therefore, eyes were not 
 made to see with. In the same dilemma appears the matter 
 of reading and writing. Perhaps it is safest to say that both 
 are results of a fortuitous concurrence of atoms. 
 
 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY— Drawing a portrait of yourself 
 with a pen and ink, carefully omitting all the bad features 
 that you have, and putting in all the good ones that you have 
 not, so as to ensure an accurate and faithful likeness ! Pub- 
 lishing your own authentic life in telling flattering lies of 
 yourself, in order, if possible, to prevent others from telling 
 disparaging truths. . No man's life is complete till he is dead, 
 an auto-biography is therefore a mis-nomer. As such works, 
 however, generally fall still-born from the press, an author 
 may fairly be said to have lost his life as soon as he is deliv- 
 ered of it, so that this objection is, in fact, removed. 
 
 AUTO DE P£ — oe act of faith — Eoasting our fellow 
 creatures alive, for the honor and glory of a God of mercy. 
 The horrors of this diabolical spectacle, which was invariably 
 beheld by both sexes and all ages with transports of triumph 
 and delight, should eternally be borne in mind, that we may 
 see to what brutal extremities intolerance will push us, if it 
 be not checked in the very outset. Thanks to the progress of 
 opinion, the inquisition and its tortures are abolished ; but 
 fanatics, whether Romish or Reformed, still reserve the right, 
 of punishing heretics, (that is all those who differ from them- 
 selves on religious points,) with fire, pillory, imprisonment, 
 and odium in this world; while they carefully retain the 
 parting curse of the inquisition, " Jam animam tuam tradi- 
 mvs Didbolo" and consign them to eternal fire in the next. 
 This moral inquisition remains yet to be suppressed. It is 
 
THE TIN TKUMPET. 31 
 
 only a postponed auto de fe. And all this hateful irreligion 
 for the sake of religion ! How truly may Christianity exclaim 
 — " I fear not mine enemies, but save, oh! save me from my 
 pretended friends." 
 
 AYAEIOE — The mistake of the old, who begin multiply- 
 ing their attachments to the earth, just as they are going to 
 run away from it, thereby increasing the bitterness without 
 protracting the date of their separation. "What the world 
 terms avarice, however, is sometimes no more than a com- 
 pulsory economy ; and even a wilful pemiriousness is better 
 than a wasteful extravagance. Simonides being reproached 
 with parsimony, said he would rather enrich his enemies after 
 his death, than borrow of his friends in his lifetime. 
 
 There are more excuses for this " old gentlemanly vice," 
 than the world is willing to admit. Its professors have the 
 honor of agreeing with Vespasian, that — " Auri bonus est odor 
 ex re qualibet" and with Dr. Johnson, who maintained that 
 a man is seldom more beneficially employed, either for 
 himself or others, than when he is making money. "Wealth, 
 too, is power, of whieh the secret sense in ourselves, and the 
 open homage it draws from others, are doubly sweet, when 
 we feel that all our other powers, and the estimation they 
 procured us, are gradually failing. Nor is it • any trifling ad- 
 vantage, in extreme old age, still to have a pursuit that gives 
 an interest to existence ; still to propose to ourselves an ob- 
 ject, of whieh every passing day advances the accomplish- 
 ment, and which holds out to us the pleasure of success, with 
 hardly a possibility of failure, for it is much more easy to 
 make the last 'plum than the first thousand. So far from sup- 
 posing an old miser to be inevitably miserable, in the Latin 
 sense of the word, it is not improbable that he may be more 
 happy than his less penurious brethren. No one but an old 
 man who has withstood the temptation of avarice, should be 
 allowed to pronounce its unqualified condemnation. 
 
 BACHELOR — one who is so fearful of marrying, lest his 
 wife should become his mistress, that he not unfrequently 
 
32 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 finishes his career by converting his mistress into a wife. 
 " A married man," said Dr. Johnson, " has many cares ; but 
 a bachelor has no pleasures." Cutting himself off from a 
 great blessing, for fear of some trifling annoyance, he has 
 rivalled the wiseacre who secured himself against corns by 
 amputating his leg. In his selfish anxiety to live unincum- 
 bered, he has only subjected himself to a heavier burthen; 
 for the passions, who apportion to every individual the load 
 that he is to bear through life, generally say to the calculating 
 bachelor — " As you are a single man, you shall carry double." 
 "We may admire the wit, without acknowledging the truth 
 of the repartee utterd by a bachelor, who, when his friend 
 reproached him for his celibacy, adding that bachelorship ought 
 to be taxed by the Government, replied, " There I agree with 
 you, for it is quite a luxury ! " 
 
 BAIT — one animal impaled upon a hook, in order to tor- 
 ture a second, for the amusement of a third. "Were the latter 
 to change places, for a single day, with either of the two for- 
 mer, which might generally be done with very little loss to 
 society, it would enable him to form a better notion of the 
 pastime he is in the habit of pursuing. — N". B. To make some 
 approximation towards strict retributive justice, he should 
 gorge the bait, and his tormenter should have all the human- 
 ity of an experienced angler ! 
 
 BALLADS — Vocal portraits of the national mind. The 
 people that are without them may literally be said not to be 
 worth an old song. The old Government of France was well 
 defined as an absolute monarchy, moderated by songs ; and 
 the acute Fletcher of Saltoun was so sensible of their impor- 
 tance, as to express a deliberate opinion, that if a man were 
 permitted to make all the ballads, he need not care who made 
 the laws of a nation. They who deem this an exaggerated 
 notion, will do well to recollect the silly ballad of Lilliburlero, 
 the noble author of which publicly boasted, and without much 
 extravagance in the vaunt, that he had rhymed King James 
 out of his dominions. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 33 
 
 BANDIT — an unlegalized soldier, who is hanged for doing 
 that which would get him a commission and a medal, had he 
 taken the king's money, instead of that of travellers. " llle 
 crucem sceleris pretium tulit, hie diadema." 
 
 BAR — Independence of the — Like a ghost, a thing 
 much talked of and seldom seen. If a barrister possesses 
 any professional or moral independence, it cannot be worth 
 much, for a few guineas will generally purchase it. It must 
 be confessed that he is singularly independent of all those 
 scruples which operate upon the consciences of other men. 
 Bight and wrong, truth and falsehood, morality and profligacy, 
 are all equally indifferent to him. Dealing in law, not justice, 
 his brief is his bible, the ten guineas of his retaining fee are 
 his decalogue ; his glory, like that of a cook-maid, consists in 
 wearing a silk gown, and his heaven is in a judge's wig. 
 Head, heart, conscience, body and soul, all are for sale ; the 
 forensic bravo stands to be hired by the highest bidder, ready 
 to attack those whom he had just defended, or defend those 
 whom he had just attacked, according to the orders he may 
 receive from his temporary master. Looking to the favor of 
 the judge for favor with their clients, and to the government 
 for professional promotion, barristers have too often been the 
 abject lickspittles of the one, and the supple tools of the 
 other. 
 
 M. de la B , a French gentleman, seems to have formed 
 
 a very correct notion of the independence of the bar. Hav- 
 ing invited several friends to dine on a maigre day, his ser- 
 vant brought him word that there was only a single salmon 
 left in the market, which he had not dared to bring away, be- 
 cause it had been bespoken by a barrister. — " Here," said his 
 master, putting two or three pieces of gold into his hand, 
 "go back directly, and buy me the barrister and the salmon 
 too." 
 
 BARRISTER — a legal servant of all work. One who 
 sometimes makes his gown a cloak for browbeating and put- 
 ting down a witness, who, but for this protection, might oc- 
 2* 
 
34 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 casionally knock down the barrister. Show me the conscien- 
 tious counsellor, who, refusing to hire out his talents that he 
 may screen the guilty, overreach the innocent, defraud the 
 orphan, or impoverish the widow, will scrupulously decline a 
 brief, unless the cause of his client wear at least a semblance 
 of honesty and justice — who will leave knaves and robbers 
 to the merited inflictions of the law, while he will cheerfully 
 exert his eloquence and skill in redressing the wrongs of the 
 injured. Show me such a Phoenix of a barrister, and I will 
 admit that he richly deserves — not to have been at the bar ! 
 
 " Does not a barrister's affected warmth and habitual dis- 
 simulation impair his honesty ? " asked Boswell of Dr. John- 
 son. "Is there not some danger that he may put on the 
 same mask in common life, in the intercourse with his 
 friends?" — "Why no, sir," replied the Doctor. "A man 
 will no more carry'the artifice of the bar into the common 
 intercourse of society, than a man who is paid for tumbling 
 upon his hands will continue to do so when he should walk 
 on his feet." Perhaps not ; but how are we to respect the 
 forensic tumbler, who will walk upon his hands, and perform 
 the most ignoble antics for a paltry fee ? 
 
 All briefless barristers will please to consider themselves 
 excepted from the previous censure, for I should be really 
 sorry to speak ill of any man without a cause. 
 
 BATHOS — sinking when you mean to rise. The waxen 
 wings of Icarus, which instead of making him master of the 
 air, plunged him into the water, were a practical bathos. So 
 was the miserable imitation of the Thunderer by Salmoneus, 
 which, instead of giving him a place among the Gods, consigned 
 him to the regions below. 
 
 Of the written bathos, an amusing instance is afforded in 
 the published tour of a lady, who has attained some celebrity 
 in literature. Describing a storm to which she was exposed, 
 when crossing in the steamboat from Dover to Calais, her 
 ladyship says, — " In spite of the most earnest solicitations to 
 the contrary, in which the captain eagerly joined, I firmly 
 persisted in remaining upon deck, although the tempest had 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 35 
 
 now increased to such a frightful hurricane, that it was not 
 without great difficulty I could — hold up my parasol ! " 
 
 As a worthy companion to this little morgeau, we copy the 
 following affecting advertisement from a London newspaper : 
 — " If this should meet the eye of Emma D * who ab- 
 sented herself last Wednesday from her father's house, she is 
 implored to return, when she will be received with undimin- 
 ished affection by her almost heart-broken parents. If 
 nothing can persuade her to listen to their joint appeal — 
 should she be determined to bring their gray hairs with sor- 
 row to the grave — should she never mean to revisit a home 
 where she has passed so many happy years — it is at least ex- 
 pected, if she be not totally lost to all sense of propriety, that 
 she will, without a moment's further delay, — send back the 
 key of the tea-caddy." 
 
 Sydney Smith cites a French traveller who was much giv- 
 en to the vice of declaiming upon common-place subjects : — 
 '"' He goes on, mingling bucolic details and sentimental effu- 
 sions, melting and measuring, crying and calculating, in a 
 manner which is very bad, if it is poetry, and worse if it is 
 prose. In speaking of the modes of cultivating potatoes, he 
 cannot avoid calling the potato a modest vegetable : and when 
 he comes to the exportation of horses from the duchy of Hol- 
 stein, we learn that 'these animals are dragged from the 
 bosom of their peaceable and modest country, to hear, in for- 
 eign regions, the sound of the warlike trumpet ; to carry the 
 combatant amid the hostile ranks ; to increase the eclat of 
 some pompous procession ; or drag, in gilded car, some favor- 
 ite of fortune.' " 
 
 How different from this is that truly pathetic passage in 
 Mr. Michael Angelo Titmarsh's Journal of Travel from Corn- 
 hill to Grand Cairo, when taking leave of the steamer he 
 feelingly describes his affection for his fellow- voyagers, from 
 the captain and purser, " down even to the greasy old cook, 
 who with a touching affection used to bring us locks of his 
 hair in the soup." 
 
 BEAUTY— has been not unaptly, though somewhat vul- 
 
36 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 garly, defined by T. H. as " all my eye," since it addresses 
 itself solely to that organ, and is intrinsically of little value. 
 From this ephemeral flower are distilled many of the ingredi- 
 ents in matrimonial unhappiness. It must be a dangerous 
 gift, both for its possessor and its admirer, if there be any 
 truth in the assertion of M. Gombaud, that beauty " reprisente 
 les Dieux, et lesfait oublier" If its possession, as is too often 
 the case, turns the head, while its loss sours the temper ; if 
 the long regret of its decay outweighs the fleeting pleasure 
 of its bloom, the plain should rather pity than envy the hand- 
 some. Beauty of countenance, which, being the light of the 
 soul shining through the face, is independent of feature or 
 complexion, is the most attractive, as well as the most endur- 
 ing charm. Nothing but talent and amiability can bestow it, 
 no statue or picture can rival, time itself cannot destroy it. 
 
 "Wants are seldom blessings, and yet the want of a'common 
 standard of beauty has incalculably widened the sphere of 
 our enjoyment, since all tastes may thus be gratified by 
 the infinite variety of minds, and the endless diversities in the 
 human form. Father Buffier maintains that the beauty of 
 every object consists in that form and color most usual among 
 things of that particular sort to which it belongs. He seems 
 to have thought that there was no inherent beauty in any 
 thing except the juste milieu, the happy mean. " The beauty 
 of a nose," says Adam Smith, following out the same, idea in 
 his Theory of Moral Sentiments, " is the form at which Nature 
 seems to have aimed in all noses, which she seldom hits ex- 
 actly, but to which all her deviations still bear a strong re- 
 semblance. Many copies of an original may all miss it in 
 some respects,, yet they will all resemble it more than they 
 resemble one another. So it is with animated forms ; and 
 thus beauty, though, in one sense, exceedingly rare, because 
 few attain the happy mean, is, at the same time, a common 
 quality, because all the deviations have a greater resemblance 
 to this standard than to one another." 
 
 Even this, however, is not a certain criterion, for our esti- 
 mate of beauty, depending mainly upon association, will be 
 influenced by the predominant feeling in the mind of the spec- 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 37 
 
 tator, whether he be contemplating a woman or a landscape. 
 Brindley, the civil engineer, considered a straight canal a much 
 more picturesque and pleasing object than a meandering river. 
 " For what purpose," he was asked, " do you apprehend riv- 
 ers to have been intended?" — "To feed navigable canals," 
 was the reply. Dr. Johnson maintained that there was no 
 beauty without utility, but he was not provided with a rejoin- 
 der when the peacock's tail was objected to him. "What so 
 beautiful as flowers, and yet we cannot always perceive their 
 utility in the economy of nature. There are belles to whom 
 the same remark may be applied. 
 
 As the want of exterior generally increases the interior 
 beauty, we should do well to judge of women as of the impres- 
 sions on medals, and pronounce those the most valuable which 
 are the plainest. 
 
 BEEK — Small — An undrinkable drink, which if it were 
 set upon a cullender to let the water run out, would leave a 
 
 residuum of nothing. Of whatever else it may be guilty, 
 
 it is generally innocent of malt and hops. Upon the principle 
 of lucus a nort lucendo, it may be termed liquid bread, and the 
 strength of corn. Small-beer comes into the third category 
 of the honest brewer, who divided his infusions into three 
 classes — strong table, common table, and lament-table. An 
 illiterate vendor of this commodity wrote over his door at 
 Harrowgate, " Bear sold here ! " " He spells the word quite 
 correctly," said T. H., "if he means to apprise us that the 
 article is his own Bruin / " 
 
 " What will be the best method of saving this small-beer 
 from depredation ? " said a lady to her butler. — " Placing a 
 cask of strong beer at the side of it," was the reply. 
 
 BENEFICENCE — may exist without benevolence. Aris- 
 ing from a sense of duty, not from sympathy or compassion, 
 it may be a charity of the hand rather than of the heart. 
 And this, though less amiable, is, perhaps, more certain than 
 the charity of impulse, inasmuch as a principle is better to be 
 depended upon than a feeling. There is an apparent benefi- 
 
38 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 cence which has no connection either with right principle or 
 right feeling, as, when we throw alms to a beggar, not to re- 
 lieve him of his distress, hut ourselves of his importunity or 
 of the pain of beholding him ; and there is a charity which is 
 mere selfishness, as when we bestow it for the sole purpose of 
 ostentation. We need not be surprised that certain names 
 should be so pertinaciously blazoned before the public eye in 
 lists of contributors, if we bear in mind that " charity covereth 
 a multitude of sins." 
 
 " BENEVOLENCE "—said S. S., in a charity sermon—" is 
 a sentiment common to human nature. A never sees B in dis- 
 tress without wishing to relieve him." 
 
 BENTLEY— Doctoe.— In the lately published life of this 
 literary Thraso, the editor has omitted to insert an anecdote 
 which is worth preserving, if it were only for the pun that it 
 embalms. Eobert Boyle, afterwards Earl of Cork, having, as 
 it was generally thought, defeated Bentley in a controversy 
 concerning the authenticity of the letters of Phalaris, the 
 Doctor's pupils drew a caricature of their master, whom the 
 guards of Phalaris were thrusting into his brazen bull, for the 
 purpose of burning him alive, while a label issued from his 
 mouth with the following inscription : " Well, well ! I had 
 rather be roasted than Boyled" 
 
 BIGOT — Camden relates that when Eollo, Duke of Nor- 
 mandy, received Gisla, the daughter of Charles the Foolish, 
 in marriage, he would not submit to kiss Charles's foot ; and 
 when his friends urged him by all means to comply with that 
 ceremony, he made answer in the English tongue — Ne se by 
 God — i. e. — Not so by God. Upon which the king and his 
 courtiers deriding him, and corruptly repeating his answer, 
 called him bigot, which was the origin of the term. Though 
 modern bigots resemble their founder in being wedded to the 
 offspring of a foolish parent, viz., their own opinion, they are 
 unlike him in every other particular ; for they not only insist 
 upon kissing the foot of some superior authority, the Pope of 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 39 
 
 their own election, but they quarrel with all the world for not 
 following their example. A Bigot is a man of respectable 
 opinions, but very ordinary talents ; defending what is right 
 without judgment, and believing what is holy without charity. 
 Generally obstinate in proportion as he is wrong, he thinks 
 he best shows his love of God by hatred of his fellow-crea- 
 tures, and his humility by lauding himself and his sect. Vain 
 is the endeavor to argue with men of this stamp — 
 
 For steel'd by pride from all assaults, 
 They cling the closer to their faults, 
 And make self-praise supply an ointment 
 For every wound and disappointment, 
 As dogs by their own licking cure 
 Whatever soreness they endure. 
 Minds thus debased by mystic lore, 
 
 Are like the pupils of the eye, 
 Which still contract themselves the more, 
 
 The greater light that you supply. 
 Others by them are praised or slander'd, 
 Exactly as they fit their standard, 
 And as an oar, though straight in air, 
 
 Appears in water to be bent, 
 So men and measures, foul or fair, 
 
 Viewed through the bigot's element, 
 (Such are the optics of their mind,) 
 They crooked or straightforward find. 
 
 BIRTH— Low — An incitement to high deeds and the at- 
 tainment of lofty station. Many of our greatest men have 
 sprung from the humblest origin, as the lark, whose nest is on 
 the ground, soars the nearest to heaven. Narrow circum- 
 stances are the most powerful stimulant to mental expansion, 
 and the early frowns of fortune the best security for her final 
 smiles. A nobleman who painted remarkably well for an am- 
 ateur, showing one of his pictures to Poussin, the latter ex- 
 claimed — " Your lordship only requires a little poverty to 
 make you a complete artist." The conversation turning upon 
 the antiquity of different Italian houses, in the presence of 
 Sextus Y. when Pope, he maintained that his was the most 
 illustrious of any, for being half unroofed, the light entered 
 on all sides, a circumstance to which he attributed his having 
 been enabled to exchange it for the Vatican. 
 
40 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 BLIND — The — see — nothing. 
 
 BLOOD — The oil of our life's lamp : — the death signature 
 of the destroying angel. Of blood, eight parts in ten consist 
 of pure water, and yet into what an infinite variety of sub- 
 stances is it converted by the inscrutable chemistry of nature ! 
 All the secretions, all the solids of our bodies, life itself, are . 
 formed from this mysterious fluid. 
 
 T. H., who, whenever he gets beyond his depth in argu- 
 ment, seeks to make his escape by a miserable pun, was once 
 maintaining that the blood was not originally red, but acquired 
 that color in its progress. — " Pray, sir," demanded his oppo- 
 nent, " what stage does the blood turn red in ? " — " Why, 
 sir," replied T. H., "in the Reading Stage, I presume." 
 
 BLUSHING — a suffusion — least seen in those who have 
 the most occasion for it. 
 
 BODY — That portion of our system which receives the chief 
 attention of Messrs. Somebody, Anybody, and Everybody, 
 while Nobody cares for the soul. — Body and mind are har- 
 nessed together to perform in concert the journey of life, a 
 duty which they will accomplish pleasantly and safely if the 
 coachman, Judgment, do not drive one faster than the other. 
 If he attempt this, confusion, exhaustion, and disease are sure 
 to ensue. Sensualists are like savages, who cut down the tree 
 to pluck all the fruit at once. Writers and close thinkers, on 
 the contrary, who do not allow themselves sufficient relax- 
 ation, and permit the mind to " o'er-inform its tenement of 
 clay," soon entail upon themselves physical or mental disor- 
 ders, generally both. We are like lamps ; if we wind up the 
 intellectual burner too high, the glass becomes thickened or 
 discolored with smoke, or it breaks, and the unregulated 
 flame, blown about by every puff of wind, if not extin- 
 guished altogether, throws a fitful glare and distorting shad- 
 ows over the objects that it was intended to illuminate. The 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 41 
 
 bow that is the oftenest unbent, will the longest retain its 
 strength and elasticity. 
 
 " Quandam cithara tacentem 
 
 Suscitat musam, neque semper arcum 
 Tendit Apollo." 
 
 BON-MOT — See the present work — passim. " Collectors 
 of ana and facetiae, ■," says Champfort, " are like children with 
 a large cake before them ; they begin by picking out the plums 
 and titbits, and finish by devouring the whole." He might 
 also have compared their works to a snow-ball, which, in our 
 endeavors to make it larger, takes up the snow first, and then 
 the dirt. 
 
 Sheridan, when shown a single volume, entitled " The 
 Beauties of Shakspeare," read it for some time with apparent 
 satisfaction, and then exclaimed, " This is all very well, but 
 where are the other seven volumes ? " 
 
 BOOK — a thing formerly put aside to be read, and now 
 read to be put aside. The world is, at present, divided into 
 two classes — those who forget to read, and those who read to 
 forget. Bookmaking, which used to be a science, is now a 
 manufacture, with which, as in every thing else, the market is 
 so completely overstocked, that our literary operatives, if they 
 wish to avoid starving, must eat up one another. They have, 
 for some time, been employed in cutting up each other, as if 
 to prepare for the meal. Alas! they may have reason for 
 their feast, without finding it a feast of reason. 
 
 BOOKS — Prohibited — Attempting to put the sun of reason 
 into a dark lantern, that its mighty blaze may be hidden or 
 revealed, according to the will of some purblind despot. 
 When W. S. E. published his admirable "Letters from the 
 North of Italy," they were found so little palatable to the 
 Austrian emperor, that they were prohibited throughout his 
 dominions. This honor the author appreciated as he ought, 
 only regretting that the interdict would prevent his sending 
 copies to some of his Italian friends ; a difficulty, however, 
 
42 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 which was soon overcome. Cancelling the original title-page, 
 he procured a new one to be printed, which ran as follows : — 
 " A Treatise upon Sour Krout, with full directions for its pre- 
 paration, and remarks upon its medicinal properties." On 
 their arrival at the frontiers, the inspector compared the books 
 with the Index Expurgatorius, but as he did not find any im- 
 perial anathema against sour krout, they were forwarded 
 without further scrutiny, and safely reached their respective 
 destinations. 
 
 Eabelais said, that all the bad books ought to be bought, 
 because they would not be reprinted ; a hint which has not 
 been thrown away upon our Bibliomanians, who seem to for- 
 get, that, since the invention of printing, no good book has 
 ever become scarce. 
 
 BOOKSELLER— There is this difference between the he- 
 roes of Paternoster Kow and the Scandinavian warriors in the 
 Hall of Yalhalla, — that the former drink their wine out of the 
 skulls of their friends, the authors, whereas the latter quaffed 
 theirs out of the skulls of their enemies. In ancient times, 
 the Yates was considered a prophet as well as bard, but now 
 he is barred from his profit, most of which goes to the book- 
 seller, who, in return, generously allows the scribbler to come 
 in for the whole of the critical abuse. It has been invidiously 
 said, that as a bibliopolist lives upon the brains of others, he 
 need not possess any himself. This is a mistake. He has the 
 wit to coin the wit that is supplied to him, and thus proves 
 his intellectual by his golden talents. Many a bookvendor 
 rides in his own carriage ; but I do not know a single profes- 
 sional bookvvriter who does not trudge a-foot. u Sic vos non 
 vdbis" — the proverb's somewhat musty. — If they take our 
 honey, they cannot quarrel with us if we now and then give 
 them a stiug. 
 
 BORE — a brainless, babbling button-holder. A wretch 
 so deficient in tact that he cannot adapt himself to any society, 
 nor perceive that all agree in thinking him disagreeable. Syd- 
 ney Smith, who had a very keen scent for that kind of game, 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 43 
 
 speaks thus pertinently of the worst specimen of that class, 
 the Titled Bore : "a heavy, pompous, meddling peer, occupy- 
 ing a large share of the conversation — saying things in ten 
 words which required only two, and evidently convinced that 
 he is making a great impression ; a large man, with a large 
 head, and very learned manner ; knowing enough to torment 
 his fellow-creatures, not to instruct them — the ridicule of 
 young ladies, and the natural butt and target of wit. It is 
 easy to talk of carnivorous animals and beasts of prey ; but 
 does such a man who lays waste a whole party of civilized 
 beings by prosing, reflect upon the joy he spoils, and the 
 misery he creates, in the course of his life ? and that any one 
 who listens to him through politeness, would prefer toothache 
 or earache to his conversation ? Does he consider the extreme 
 uneasiness which ensues, when the company have discovered 
 a man to be an extremely absurd person, at the same time 
 that it is absolutely impossible to convey, by words or man- 
 ner, the most distant suspicion of the discovery ? And then, 
 who punishes this bore ? What sessions and what assizes for 
 him? "What bill is found against him? "Who indicts him? 
 "When the judges have gone their vernal and autumnal rounds 
 — the sheep-stealer disappears — the swindler gets ready for 
 the Bay — the solid parts of the murderer are preserved in 
 anatomical collections. But, after twenty years of crime, the 
 bore is discovered in the same house, in the same attitude, 
 eating the same soup — unpunished, untried, undissected — no 
 scaffold, no skeleton — no mob of gentlemen and ladies to gape 
 over his last dying speech and confession." Nevertheless, we 
 forgive the man who bores us much more easily than the man 
 who lets us see that we are boring him. Towards the former, 
 we exercise a magnanimous compassion ; but our wounded 
 self-love cannot tolerate the latter. A newly-elected M. 0. 
 lately consulted his friend as to the occasion that he should 
 select for his maiden speech. A very important subject was 
 suggested, when the modest member expressed a fear that his 
 mind was hardly of sufficient calibre to embrace it. " Poh ! 
 poh ! " said the friend, — " don't be under any apprehensions 
 
44 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 about your calibre : depend upon it, they will find yon bore 
 enough." 
 
 BEEATH — air received into the lungs by many young 
 men of fashion for the important purposes of smoking a cigar 
 and whistling a tune. 
 
 BKEVITY — the soul of wit, which accounts for the 
 tenuity of the present work ! Into how narrow a compass 
 has Seneca compressed his account of the total destruction of 
 Lyons by fire : " Inter magnam uroem et nullam nox una in- 
 terfuit," — between a great city and none, only a single night 
 intervened ! 
 
 BEEVITY — the soul of wit. Brevity is in writing what 
 charity is to all the other virtues. Eighteousness is worth 
 nothing without the one, nor authorship without the other. 
 There is an event recorded in the Bible, which men who write 
 books should keep constantly in their remembrance. It is 
 there set forth, that many centuries ago, the earth was covered 
 with a great flood, by which the whole of the human race, 
 with the exception of one family, were destroyed. It appears 
 also that from thence a great alteration was made in the longevity 
 of mankind, who from a range of seven or eight hundred years, 
 which they enjoyed before the flood, were confined to their 
 present period of seventy or eighty years. This epoch in the 
 history of man gave birth to the twofold division of the ante- 
 diluvian and the postdiluvian style of writing, the latter of 
 which naturally contracted itself into those inferior limits 
 which were better accommodated to the abridged duration of 
 human life and literary labor. Now, to forget this event, — to 
 write without the fear of the deluge before his eyes, and to 
 handle a subject as if mankind could lounge over a pamphlet 
 for ten years, as before their submersion, — is to be guilty of 
 the most grievous error into which a writer can possibly fall. 
 An author should call in the aid of some brilliant pen, and 
 cause the distressing 'scenes of the deluge to be portrayed in 
 the most lively colors for his use. He should gaze at Noah 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 45 
 
 and be brief. The ark should constantly remind him of the 
 little time there is left for reading ; and he should learn, as 
 they did in the ark, to crowd a great deal of matter into a very 
 little compass. 
 
 Upon the memorable dark day, 19th March, 1790, a lady 
 wrote to the celebrated Dr. Byles, in Boston, as follows : — 
 "Dear Doctor, how do you account for this darkness? " To 
 which he replied, as wittily as briefly : — " Dear Madam, I am 
 as much in the dark as you are." 
 
 BRIEF — the excuse of counsel for an impertinence that is 
 often inexcusable. 
 
 BRUTES — Philosophers have been much puzzled about 
 the essential characteristics of brutes, by which they may be 
 distinguished from men. Some define a brute to be an animal 
 that never laughs, or an animal incapable of laughter ; some 
 say they are mute animals. The Peripatetics allowed them a. 
 sensitive power, but denied them a rational one. The Platon- 
 ists allowed them reason and understanding ; though in a 
 degree less pure and less refined than that of men. Lactan- 
 tius allows them every thing which men have, except a sense 
 of religion ; and some sceptics have gone so far as to say they 
 have this also. Descartes maintained that brutes are mere 
 inanimate machines, absolutely destitute, not only of all rea- 
 son, but of all thought and reflection ; and that all their ac- 
 tions are only consequences of the exquisite mechanism of 
 their bodies. This system, however, is much older than Des- 
 cartes ; it was borrowed by him from Gomez Pereira, a Span- 
 ish physician, who employed thirty years in composing a 
 treatise on this subject, which he very affectionately called by 
 the name of his father and mother — " Antoniana Margarita." 
 Poor Gomez was so far from having opponents, that he had 
 not even readers : his theory, in the hands of Descartes, excited 
 a controversy which reached from one end of Europe to the 
 other ; many, who maintained the opposite hypothesis to Des- 
 cartes, contended that brutes are endowed with a soul, essen- 
 tially inferior to that of man ; and to this soul some have im- 
 
46 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 * piously allowed immortality. But the most curious of all 
 opinions, respecting the understanding of beasts, is that ad- 
 vanced by Pere Bougeant, a Jesuit, in a work entitled " Phil- 
 osophical Amusement on the Language of Beasts." In this 
 book he contends that each animal is inhabited by a separate 
 and distinct devil ; that not only this was the case with re- 
 spect to cats, which have long been known to be very favorite 
 residences of familiar spirits, but that a peculiar devil swam 
 with every turbot, grazed with every ox, soared with every 
 lark, dived with every duck, and was roasted with every 
 chicken. 
 
 Sydney Smith, from whom I quote the above,, says: "I 
 should be very sorry to do injustice to the poor brutes, who 
 have no professors to revenge their cause by lecturing on our 
 faculties ; and at the same time I know there is a very strong 
 anthropical party, who view all eulogiums on the brute crea- 
 tion with a very considerable degree of suspicion ; and look 
 upon every compliment which is paid to the ape as high 
 treason to the dignity of man. But I confess I feel myself so 
 much at my ease about the superiority of mankind, — I have such 
 a marked and decided contempt for the understanding of every 
 baboon I have yet seen, — I feel so sure that the blue ape 
 without a tail will never rival us in poetry, painting, and 
 music, — that I see no reason whatever, why justice may not 
 be done to the few fragments of soul, and tatters of under- 
 standing, which they may really possess. I have sometimes, 
 perhaps, felt a little uneasy at Exeter 'Change, from contrast- 
 ing the monkeys with the 'prentice-boys who are teasing 
 them ; but a few pages of Locke, or a few lines of Milton, 
 have always restored me to tranquillity, and convinced me 
 that the superiority of man had nothing to fear." 
 
 BUFFOON — A professional fool, whereas a wag is an 
 amateur fool. 
 
 BULL — A bull is exactly the counterpart of a witticism ; 
 for as wit discovers real relations that are not apparent, bulls 
 admit apparent relations that are not real. The pleasure 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 4? 
 
 arising from bulls proceeds from our surprise at suddenly 
 discovering two things to be dissimilar in which a resemblance 
 might have been suspected. The same doctrine will apply to 
 wit and bulls in action. Practical wit discovers connection 
 or relation between actions, in which duller understandings 
 discover none ; and practical bulls originate from an apparent 
 relation between -two actions which more correct understand- 
 ings immediately perceive to have none at all. In the late 
 rebellion in Ireland, the rebels, who had conceived a high de- 
 gree of indignation against some great banker, passed a reso- 
 lution that they would burn his notes ; — which they accord- 
 ingly did, with great assiduity ; forgetting, that in burning his 
 notes they were destroying his debts, and that for every note 
 which went into the flames, a correspondent value went into 
 the banker's pocket. A gentleman, in speaking of a noble- 
 man's wife, of great rank and fortune, lamented very much 
 that she had no children. A medical gentleman who was 
 present observed, that to have no children was a great misfor- 
 tune, but he thought he had remarked it was hereditary in 
 some families. 
 
 Louis XIV. being extremely harassed by the repeated 
 solicitations of a veteran officer for promotion, said one day, 
 loud enough to be heard, " that gentleman is the most trouble- 
 some officer I have in my service." " That is precisely the 
 charge," said the old man, "which your Majesty's enemies 
 bring against me." 
 
 An English gentleman was writing a letter in a coffee- 
 house, and perceiving that an Irishman stationed behind him 
 was taking that liberty which Parmenio used with his friend 
 Alexander, instead of putting his seal upon the lips of the 
 curious impertinent, the English gentleman thought proper to 
 reprove the Hibernian, if not with delicacy, at least with 
 poetical justice. He concluded writing his letter in these 
 words : " I would say more, but a damned tall Irishman is 
 reading over my shoulder every word I write." " You lie, 
 you scoundrel," said the self-convicted Hibernian. 
 
 A copious and amusing book might be made, by collecting 
 the bulls and blunders of all nations, except the Irish, whom 
 
48 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 we would exclude, upon the principle that determined Martial 
 not to describe the nose of Tongilianus, because " nil prater 
 nasum Tongilianus habeV Of the French bulls, there are few 
 better than the following : A Gascon nobleman had been re- 
 proaching his son with ingratitude. "I owe you nothing," 
 said the unfilial young man ; "so far from having served me, 
 you have always stood in my way ; for if you had never been 
 born, I should at this moment be the next heir of my rich 
 grandfather." 
 
 Worthy of a place by the side of this Gallic Hibernicism is 
 the niaiserie of Captain Baudin, the commander of a French 
 expedition of discovery. On opening a box of magnetic 
 needles, they were found to be much rusted, which sensibly 
 impaired their utility. " "What else can you expect ? " ex- 
 claimed the irritated captain ; "all the articles provided by 
 government are shabby beyond description. Had they acted 
 as I could have wished, they would have given us silver instead 
 of steel needles." 
 
 An Irishman may be described as a sort of Minotaur, half 
 man and half bull. " Semibovemque virum, semwirumque 
 Dovem" as Ovid has it. He might run me into a longer 
 essay than Miss Edge worth's, without exhausting the subject ; 
 I shall therefore content myself with a single instance of his 
 felicity in this figure of speech. In the examination of a Con- 
 naught lad, he was asked his age. — " I'm just twenty, your 
 honor ; but I would have been twenty-one, only my mother 
 miscarried the year before I was born." 
 
 In a debate on the leather-tax, in 1794, in the Irish House 
 of Commons, the Chancellor of the Exchequer (Sir John 
 Parnell) observed with great emphasis, " that in prosecution of 
 the present war, every man ought to give his last guinea to 
 protect the remainder.' 1 '' Mr. Vandeclure said, that " however 
 that might be, the tax on leather would be severely felt by the 
 barefooted peasantry of Ireland." To which Sir Boyle Eoche 
 replied, that " this could be very easily remedied, by mating 
 the under leather of woody 
 
 Digby sat a long time very attentive, considering a cane- 
 bottom chair. At length he said,—" I wonder what fellow 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 49 
 
 took the trouble to find all them holes and put straws around 
 them ! " 
 
 BURGLARY — If the burglar who craftily examines a 
 house or a shop, to see how he may best break into it and 
 steal its contents, be a knave, what name should we bestow 
 upon the Old Bailey barrister, who, in the defence of a con- 
 fessed thief, sifts and examines the laws to ascertain where he 
 may best evade or break through them, for the purpose of 
 defrauding justice and of letting loose a felon to renew his 
 depredations upon society? Bentham compares the confi- 
 dence between a criminal and his advocate to a compact of 
 guilt between two confederated malefactors. 
 
 CAGE — An article to the manufacture of which our spin- 
 sters would do well to direct their attention, since, according 
 to Yoltaire, the reason of so many unhappy marriages is, that 
 young ladies employ their time in making nets instead of 
 cages. Putting the same thought in another form, we might 
 say that our damsels, in fishing for husbands, rely too much 
 upon their personal and too little on their mental attractions, 
 forgetting that an enticing bait is of little use unless you have 
 a hook, line, and landing-net, that may secure the prey. , 
 
 CANDIDATES — for Holy Orders, are sometimes persons 
 claiming authority to show their fellow-creatures the way to 
 heaven, because they have been unable to make their own 
 way upon earth. 
 
 Some of the clamorers against the abuses of the Church 
 object that the greatest dunce in families of distinction is 
 often selected for the ministry. How unreasonable ! is it not 
 better that the ground ' should be ploughed by asses, than re- 
 main untilled ? I cannot, by any means, approve the fastid- 
 iousness, any more than the bad pun of the Canadian bishop, 
 who, finding, after examining one of the candidates for holy 
 orders, that he was grossly ignorant, refused to ordain him. 
 "My lord!" said the disappointed aspirant, "there is no im- 
 putation upon my moral character — I have a due sense of 
 3 
 
50 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 religion, and I am a member of the Propaganda Society." — 
 " That I can easily believe," replied the bishop, " for you are 
 a proper goose." 
 
 CANDIDATES— for Congress, self-trumpeters. In ad- 
 dressing the electors it is amusing to observe how invariably, 
 and how very impartially, each candidate, when describing 
 the sort of representative whom the worthy and enlightened 
 constituents ought to choose, draws a portrait of himself, bla- 
 zoning the little nothings that he has achieved, and, some- 
 times, like the Pharisee, introducing a fling at his opponent, 
 by thanking heaven that he is not like yonder Publican. For 
 the benefit of such portrait painters, I will record an apposite 
 anecdote of Mirabeau, premising that his face was deeply in- 
 dented with the small-pox. Anxious to be put in nomination 
 for the National Assembly, he made a long speech to the 
 voters, minutely pointing out the precise requisites that a 
 proper and efficient member ought to possess, and, of course, 
 drawing as accurate a likeness as possible of himself. He was 
 answered by Talleyrand, who contented himself with the fol- 
 lowing short speech : "It appears to me, gentlemen, that M. 
 de Mirabeau has omitted to state the most important of all the 
 legislative qualifications, and I will supply his deficiency by 
 impressing upon your attention, that a perfectly unobjectiona- 
 ble member of the Assembly oijght, above all things, to be 
 very much marked with the small-pox." Talleyrand got the 
 laugh, which in Prance always carries the election. 
 
 CANDOR — a very pretty thing to talk about. In some 
 people may be compared to barley-sugar drops, in which the 
 acid preponderates over the sweetness. 
 
 CANT — Originally the name of a Cameronian preacher in 
 Scotland, who had attained the faculty of preaching in such a 
 tone and dialect, as to be understood by none but his own 
 congregation. This worthy, however, has been outcanted by 
 his countryman, Irving, whose Babel tongues possess the su- 
 perior merit of being unintelligible not only to his flock, but 
 even to himself. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 51 
 
 In the present acceptation of the word, as a synonyme of 
 hypocrisy — as a pharisaical pretension to superior religion and 
 virtue, substituted by those great professors of both, who are 
 generally the least performers of either, cant may be desig- 
 nated the characteristic of modern England. Simulation and 
 dissimulation are its constituent elements — the substitution of 
 the form for the spirit, of appearances for realities, of words 
 for things. 
 
 CAKE — The tax paid by the higher classes for their privi- 
 leges and possessions. Often amounting to the full value' of 
 the property upon which it is levied, care may be termed the 
 poor-rate of the rich. Like death, care is a sturdy summoner, 
 who will take no denial, and who is no respecter of persons. 
 Nor is the importunate dun a whit improved in his manners 
 since the time of Horace, for he beards the great and the pow- 
 erful in their very palaces, and scares them even in their 
 throne-like beds, while the peasant sleeps undisturbed upon 
 his straw pallet. Under the perpetual influence of these draw- 
 backs and compensations, the inequalities of fortune, if meas- 
 ured by the criterion of enjoyment, are rather apparent than 
 real ; for it is difficult to be rich without care, and easy to be 
 happy without wealth. 
 
 CASTLE — In England every man's cottage is held to be 
 his castle, which he is authorized to defend, even against the 
 assaults of the king ; but it may be doubted whether the same 
 privilege extends to Ireland. — " My client," said an Irish ad- 
 vocate, pleading before Lord Norbury, in an action of trespass, 
 " is a poor man — he lives in a hovel, and this miserable dwell- 
 ing is in a forlorn and dilapidated state ; but still, thank God ! 
 the laborer's cottage, however ruinous its plight, is his sanc- 
 tuary and his castle. Yes — the winds may enter it, and the 
 rains may enter it, but the king cannot enter it." " What ! 
 not the reigning king ?" asked the joke-loving judge. 
 
 CATACHRESIS — The abuse of a trope, or an apparent 
 contradiction in terms, as when the law pronounces the acci- 
 
52 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 dental killing of a woman to be manslaughter. The name of 
 the Serpentine Kiver, which is a straight canal, involves a 
 catachresis, and we often, unconsciously, perpetrate others, in 
 our daily discourse ; as when we talk of wooden tomb-stones, 
 iron mile-stones, glass ink-horns, brass shoeing-horns, &c. 
 
 Every one recollects the fervent hope expressed by the late 
 Lord Castlereagh, that the people of this happy country would 
 never turn their backs upon themselves. This was only a 
 misplaced trope ; but there sometimes is, among his fellow- 
 countrymen, a confusion of ideas that involves an impossibil- 
 ity. An Irishman's horse fell with him, throwing his rider to 
 some distance, when the animal, in struggling to get up, en- 
 tangled its hind leg in the stirrup. " Oh, very well, sir," said 
 the dismounted cavalier; "if you're after getting on your 
 own back, I see there will be no room for me." 
 
 The following string of Catachreses is versified, with some 
 additions and embellishments, from a sermon of an ignorant 
 field-preacher : — 
 
 Staying Ms hand, which, like a hammer, 
 
 Had thump'd and bump'd his anvil-book, 
 And waving it to still the clamor, 
 
 The tub-man took a loftier look, 
 And thus, condensing all his powers, 
 Scatter'd his oratoric flowers : 
 " What ! will ye still, ye heathen, flee 
 
 From sanctity and grace, 
 Until your blind idolatry 
 
 Shall stare ye in the face ? 
 Will ye throw off the mask, and show 
 Thereby the cloven foot below ? 
 Do — but remember, ye must pay 
 What's due to ye on settling day ! 
 Justice's eye, it stands to sense, 
 
 Can never stomach such transgressions ; 
 Nor can the hand of Providence 
 
 Wink at your impious expressions. 
 The infidel thinks vengeance dead, 
 
 And in his fancied safety chuckles ; 
 But Atheism's hydra head, 
 
 Shall have a rap upon the knuckles." 
 
 CELIBACY — A vow by which the priesthood, in some 
 countries, swear to content themselves with the wives of 
 other people. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. ■ 53 
 
 CEREMONY — All that is considered necessary by many 
 in religion and friendship. 
 
 CENSORIOTTSNESS— Judging of others by ourselves. 
 It will invariably be found that the most censurable are the 
 most censorious ; while those who have the least need of 
 indulgence are the most indulgent. We should pardon the 
 mistakes of others as freely as if we ourselves were constantly 
 committing the same faults, and yet avoid their errors as care- 
 fully as if we never forgave them. There is no precept, how- 
 ever, that cannot be evaded. " "We are ordered to forgive our 
 enemies, but not our friends," cries a quibbler. ""We may 
 forgive our own enemies, but not the heretics, who are the 
 enemies of God," said Father Segnerand to Louis XIII. Many 
 people imagine that they are not only concealing their own 
 misconduct in this world, but making atonement for it in the 
 next, by visiting the misdeeds of others with a puritanical 
 severity. They may well be implacable ! "I should never 
 have preserved my reputation," said Lady B — , " if I had not 
 carefully abstained from visiting demireps. I must be strait- 
 laced in the persons of others, because I have been so loose in 
 my own." — " My dear lady B — !" exclaimed her sympathizing 
 friend, " upon this principle you ought to retire into a con- 
 vent!" 
 
 CHALLENGE — Calling upon a man who has hurt your 
 -feelings to give you satisfaction — by shooting you through the 
 body. 
 
 CHANGE — The only thing that is constant; mutability 
 being an immutable law of the universe. 
 
 " Men change -with fortune, manners change with climes, 
 Tenets with hooks, and principles with times." 
 
 CHARACTER — Individual — A compound from the char- 
 acters of others. If it be true that one fool makes many, it is 
 not less clear that many fools, or many wise men, make one. 
 The noscitur d socio is universally applicable. Like the cha- 
 
54 THE TIN TRUMPET." 
 
 meleon, our mind takes the color of what surrounds it. 
 However small may be the world of our own familiar coterie, 
 it conceals from us the world without ; as the minutest object, 
 held close to the eye, will shut out the sun. Our mental hue 
 depends as completely on the social atmosphere in which we 
 move as our complexion upon the climate in which we live. 
 
 Nevertheless, it must be admitted that it is sometimes 
 profitable to associate with graceless characters. A reprobate 
 fellow once laid his worthy associate a bet of five guineas that 
 he could not repeat the creed. It was accepted, and his 
 friend repeated the Lord's prayer. " Confound you !" cried 
 the former, who imagined that he had been listening to the 
 creed, — " I had no idea you had such a memory. There are 
 your five guineas !" 
 
 CHARITY — The only thing that we can give away with- 
 out losing it. 
 
 " True charity is truest thrift, 
 More than repaid for every gift, 
 By grateful prayers enroll'd on high, 
 And its own heart's sweet eulogy, 
 Which, like the perfume-giving rose, 
 Possesses still what it bestows." 
 
 Charity covereth a multitude of sins, and the English are 
 the most bountiful people upon earth ! The best almsgiving, 
 perhaps, is a liberal expenditure ; for that encourages the in- 
 dustrious, while indiscriminate charity only fosters idlers and 
 impostors. The latter is little better than mere selfishness, 
 prompting us to get rid of an uneasy sensation. Sometimes, 
 however, we refuse our bounty to a suppliant, because he has 
 hurt our feelings ; while the beggar who has pleased us by 
 making us laugh at his buffoonery, seldom goes unrewarded. 
 Delpini, the clown, applied to George IV. when Prince of 
 Wales, for pecuniary assistance, drawing a lamentable picture 
 of his destitute state. As he was in the habit of thus impor- 
 tuning his Royal Highness, his suit was rejected. At last, as 
 he met the Prince coming out of Carlton House, he exclaimed 
 — " Ah, votre altesse ! Ah, mon Prince ! if you no assist d@ 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 55 
 
 pauvre Delpini, I must go to your papa's bench !" Tickled 
 by the oddity of the phrase, the Prince laughed heartily, and 
 immediately complied with his request. 
 
 CHEERFULNESS—" The best Hymn to the Divinity," 
 according to Addison, and all rational religionists. When we 
 have passed a day of innocent enjoyment ; when " our bosom's 
 lord sits lightly on his throne ; " when our gratified and grateful 
 feelings, sympathizing with universal nature, make us sensible, 
 as John of Salisbury says, that " Qratior it dies, et soles melius 
 nitent," — we may be assured that we have been performing, 
 however unconsciously, an acceptable act of devotion. Pure 
 religion may generally be measured by the cheerfulness of its 
 professors, and superstition by the gloom of its victims. Ille 
 placet Deo, cui placet Deus — He to whom God is pleasant, is 
 pleasant to God. 
 
 CHESS — A wooden or ivory allegory. Sir "William Jones, 
 who claims the invention of this game for the Hindoos, traces 
 the successive corruptions of the original Sanscrit term, through 
 the Persians and Arabs, into scacchi, echess — chess ; which, by 
 a whimsical concurrence of circumstances, has given birth to 
 the English word check, and even a name to the Exchequer of 
 Great Britain. In passing through Europe, the oriental forms 
 and names have suffered material change. The ruch, or drome- 
 dary, we have corrupted into rook. The bishop was with us 
 formerly an archer, while the French denominated it alfin, and 
 fol, which were perversions of the original eastern term for 
 the elephant. 
 
 The ancient Persian game consisted of the following 
 pieces : — 
 
 1. Schach . . . .The King. 
 
 2. Pherz .... The Vizier, or General. 
 
 3. PHI . . . .The Elephant. 
 
 4. Aspen Suar . . . The Horseman. 
 
 5. Ruch .... The Dromedary. 
 
 6. Beydal . . . The Foot-soldiers. 
 
56 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 In process of time, the Persian names were gradually 
 translated into French, or modified by French terminations. 
 Schach was translated into Boy — the King ; Pherz, the Yizier, 
 became Fercie — Fierce — Fierge — Vierge ; and this last was 
 easily converted into a lady — Dame. The Elephant Phil was 
 altered into Fol or Fou ; the Horseman became a Cavalier or 
 Knight, while the Dromedary, Buck, was converted into a 
 Tour, or Tower, probably from being confounded with the 
 Elephant, which is usually represented as carrying a castle. 
 The foot-soldiers were retained by the name of JPietons, or 
 Pions, whence our Pawns. 
 
 In its westward progress, the game of chess adapted itself 
 to the habits and institutions of the countries that fostered it. 
 The prerogative of the King gradually extended itself, until it 
 became unlimited : the agency of the Princes, in lieu of the 
 Queen, who does not exist in the original chess-board, bespeak 
 forcibly the nature of the oriental customs, which exclude 
 females from all influence and power. In Persia, these 
 Princes were changed into a single Vizier, and for this Yizier 
 the Europeans, with the same gallantry that had prompted the 
 French to add a Queen to the pack of cards, substituted a 
 Queen on the chess-board. 
 
 We record the following anecdote, as a warning to such of 
 our male and married readers as may be in the perilous habit 
 of playing chess with a wife. Ferrand, Count of Flanders, 
 having constantly defeated the Countess at chess, she conceived 
 a hatred against him, which came to such a height, that when 
 the Count was taken prisoner at the battle of Bovines, she 
 suffered him to remain a long time in prison, though she could 
 easily have procured his release. 
 
 CHILD — Spoilt — An unfortunate victim, who proves the 
 weakness of his parents' judgment, much more forcibly than 
 the strength of their affection. Doomed to feel by daily ex- 
 perience, that a blind love is as bad as a clear-sighted hatred, 
 the spoilt child, when he embitters the life of those who have 
 poisoned his, is not so much committing an act of ingratitude, 
 as of retributive justice. Is it not natural that he should love 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 57 
 
 those too little, who by loving him too much have proved 
 themselves his worst enemies ?— How can we expect him to be 
 a blessing to us, when we have been a curse to him ? It is the 
 awarded and just punishment of a weak over-indulgence, that 
 the more we fondle a spoilt child, the more completely shall we 
 alienate him, as an arrow flies the farther from us the closer 
 we draw it to our bosom. 
 
 As a gentle hint to others similarly annoyed, we record the 
 rebuke of a visitor, to whom a mother expressed her apprehen- 
 sion that he was disturbed by the crying of her spoilt brat. — 
 " Not at all, Madam," was the reply ; "lam always delighted 
 to hear such children cry." — " Indeed ! why so ? " — " Because 
 in all well-regulated families, they are immediately sent out of 
 the room." 
 
 CHILDREN"— Jean Paul says beautifully of children : " The 
 smallest are nearest God, as the smallest planets are nearest 
 the sun." 
 
 CHINA — A country where the roses have no fragrance, 
 and the women no petticoats ; where the laborer has no 
 Sabbath, and the magistrate no sense of honor ; where the 
 roads bear no vehicles, and the ships no keels ; where old men 
 fly kites ; where the needle points to the south, and the sign 
 of being puzzled is to scratch the antipodes of the head ; where 
 the place of honor is on the left hand, and the seat of intellect 
 is in the stomach ; where to take off your hat is an insolent 
 gesture, and to wear white garments is to put yourself in 
 mourning ; which has a literature without an alphabet, and a 
 language without a grammar. 
 
 CHIVALRY — The true spirit of chivalry is a generous 
 impatience of wrong, an active sympathy with the oppressed, 
 an unquenchable fury against the oppressor, a general protec- 
 tion of the weak against the guilty and the powerful, with, (in 
 the practice,) perad venture, a little tinge of absurdity and a 
 small spice of extravagance. Knighthood at present is at low 
 ebb : a quiet, harmless kind of thing, shedding no blood but 
 3* 
 
58 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 that of birds, beasts, and fishes, and killing no more than it can 
 eat — often not so much. The golden era of knighthood is 
 past. Gentlemen no longer ride about the country in tin panta- 
 loons and coal-scuttle bonnets, poking one another's ribs 
 with bed-posts, and shouting cock-a-doodle-doo at the gates of 
 their neighbors' castles. 
 
 CHRISTIANITY — Fashionable— Keeping a pew at some 
 genteel church or chapel, to which ladies pay a civil visit when 
 the weather is fine, when they have got a new bonnet or 
 pelisse to display, and a smart livery servant to follow them 
 with a prayer-book. They courtesy very low at the mention 
 of the Lord's name, making the homage of the knees a substi- 
 tute for that of the heart ; and duly receive the sacrament ? 
 which, by a strange perversion of ideas, they look upon as a 
 proof of the sincerity of their belief, and an absolution for the 
 laxity of their practice. 
 
 Fashionable male Christianity is demonstrated by an occa- 
 sional nap in a cushioned and carpeted pew ; in cheerfully 
 paying Easter offerings and Church dues ; in maintaining a cer- 
 tain decency of appearance ; and more especially in hating those 
 who presume to differ in matters of religion. That they possess 
 the outward and visible signs of Christianity, both sexes 
 exhibit incontestable proofs ; but as to the inward and spiritual 
 grace, they leave it to the vulgar and the fanatical. They 
 are too polite to travel Zionward in such company, and would 
 rather sacrifice heaven altogether, than reach it by any ungenteel 
 mode. Provided they may be among the exclusive here, they 
 will cheerfully run the risk of being among the excluded 
 hereafter. 
 
 CHRISTIAOTTY— Primitive— " There hath not been dis- 
 covered in any age," says Lord Bacon, "any philosophy, 
 opinion, religion, law, or discipline, which so greatly exalts 
 the common, and lessens individual, interest as the Christian 
 religion doth." The perpetual denunciations of the rich and 
 the great, the repeated averment that the Lord is no respecter 
 of persons, the lowly origin of Jesus Christ in his earthly 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 59 
 
 capacity, the selection of his Apostles and chief missionaries 
 from among the laboring poor, or from women, a class which 
 had previously exercised no influence in society, all tend to 
 confirm the assertion of Bacon, and to impart to primitive 
 Christianity a character which, in modern times, would almost 
 he termed radical ; while it forms a most significant contrast 
 to the wealth, splendor, and haughty pride of all those 
 spiritual corporations which are called Established Churches. 
 
 He that would form a correct notion of primitive Chris- 
 tianity, should study the following character of its Founder, as 
 drawn by an eloquent divine : — " Christ in his sympathetic 
 character, was fairer than the sons of men, therefore full of 
 grace were his lips. His humanity was not, like ours, degene- 
 rate, but refined and exalted. God breathed direct into him. 
 Sin had not impaired the delicate and sensitive perceptions of 
 his nature ; had not chilled the fountain of his feelings, nor 
 the warm current of his affections. Prompt to feel the woes 
 of others, the sympathetic strings of his heart, constantly 
 attuned and tremulously sensitive, vibrated at every sigh of the 
 sorrowful spirit, and responded full and deep to every sound of 
 human woe. He identified himself with disgrace and sor- 
 row, and even with sin. He sympathized with the sufferers 
 in his humanity, before he exerted the power of his divinity 
 for their relief." 
 
 CHRISTIANS — Many Christians are like chestnuts : very 
 pleasant nuts, but enclosed in very prickly burs, which need 
 various dealings of Nature, and her grip of frost, before the 
 kernel is disclosed. 
 
 CIGAR — A roll of tobacco, with fire at one end of it, 
 and a fool at the other. 
 
 CIGAR-SMOKING — Vomiting an offensive exhalation in 
 the face of every passenger. As it was said of Virgil that, in 
 his Georgics, he threw his dung about him with an air of dig* 
 nity, so may we allow Vesuvius and Mount Etna to smoke, 
 without conceding that privilege to every puny whifller who 
 
60 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 may think fit to poison the air with the contents of his mouth. 
 Every such culprit ought to he made to swallow his own 
 smoke, like the improved steam-engines. It is a solecism in 
 good manners that a quasi gentleman should adopt this plough- 
 man's habit, even in the open air ; hut to attempt it in any 
 sort of mixed society, whether in a public room or on the top 
 of a stage-coach, should subject the perpetrator to an uncere- 
 monious expulsion. It has, nevertheless, one advantage, — it 
 entices fools to be silent, or only to talk smoke, which is at 
 least an inaudible annoyance. 
 
 After all, perhaps, there is much to be said on both sides, — 
 not of the cigar, for there both sides are alike, — but of 
 the question — audi alteram partem: condemn not a cigar 
 before you have smoked one. Of this last enormity I was 
 never guilty, but, methinks, I might point the wit of some 
 fumigator to give a reason for the smoke that is in him ; even 
 as the grindstone may sharpen, though it was never known 
 to cut : 
 
 " Ego fungar vice cotis, acutum 
 Keddere quae ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandi." 
 
 Yoyons ! there is an inspiration that may vindicate to- 
 bacco without its aid ; suppose we, therefore, some puffer 
 of Havannah to evaporate the following : — 
 
 EFFUSION— (By a Cigar-Smoker.) 
 
 "Warriors ! who from the cannon's month blow fire, 
 
 Tour fame to raise 
 
 Upon its blaze, 
 Alas! ye do but light your funeral pyre! — 
 
 Tempting Fate's stroke, 
 Te fall, and all your glory ends in smoke. 
 Safe in my chair from wounds and woe, 
 My fire and smoke from mine own mouth I blow. 
 
 Te booksellers ! who deal, like me, in puffs, 
 
 The public smokes 
 
 Tou and your hoax, 
 And turns your empty vapor to rebuffs. 
 
 Te through the nose 
 Pay for each puff; when mine the same way flows, 
 It does not run me into debt ; 
 And thus, the more I fume, the less I fret. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 61 
 
 Authors 1 created to be pufFd to death, 
 - And fill the mouth 
 
 Of some uncouth 
 Bookselling wight, who sucks your brains and breath, 
 
 Tour leaves thus far 
 (Without its fire) resemble my cigar ; 
 But vapid, uninspired, and flat; 
 When, when, O Bards, will ye compose like that ? 
 
 Since life and the anxieties that share 
 
 Our hope and trust, 
 
 Are smoke and dust, 
 Give me the smoke and dust that banish care ; 
 
 The rolled leaf bring, 
 Which from its ashes, Phoenix-like, can spring — 
 The fragrant leaf whose magic balm 
 Can, like Nepenthe, all our sufferings charm. 
 
 Oh, what supreme beatitude is this 1 
 
 What soft and sweet 
 
 Sensations greet 
 My 60ul, and wrap it in Elysian bliss ! 
 
 I soar above 
 Dull earth in those ambrosial clouds, like Jove, 
 And from mine Empyrean height 
 Look down upon the world with calm delight. 
 
 CIRCLE — The Social — A dull merry-go-round which 
 makes us first giddy, and then sick. "What is called the round 
 of pleasure, may be compared to a knife-grinder's wheel. "When 
 its rotations are duly regulated and adapted to the end proposed, 
 it gives point to the wit, while it brightens, sharpens, and 
 polishes the general surface of the mind and manners. But if we 
 whirl it round with an unintermitting rapidity, it takes off the 
 edge of enjoyment, and soon wears out that which it was in- 
 tended to refresh and renovate. "We have Christian epicureans, 
 who advocate a short life and a merry one, as stanchly as their 
 pagan predecessors, and cry out, with Sir Henry Wotton, that 
 they had rather live five Mays than fifty Novembers. But, un- 
 fortunately, a short life is not always a merry one, nor is a merry 
 one necessarily short. "We must live our appointed term, whether 
 for good or evil, for we cannot suck out the sweets of life, and 
 then lay it down like a squeezed orange. Throwing it away is not 
 getting rid of it. A merry youth may turn to a mournful old age ; 
 
62 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 we may make a boast of leaving our sins when they have de- 
 serted us, and of having mastered onr passions when we have 
 only worn them out ; but their ghosts may haunt us in the 
 shape of gout, dropsy, dyspepsia, and other tormentsj when we 
 are only living to do penance for the excesses of our youth. 
 
 An old rake who has survived himself, is the most pitiable 
 object in creation. If we discount our allotted portion of 
 pleasure, and live upon the capital instead of the interest, at 
 the outset of life, we must expect to be bankrupts at its close. 
 If we cut down the tree for the sake of its spring blossoms, we 
 cannot apply to it for fruits in autumn, or shelter in the winter. 
 The hours may seem short that are passed in revelry and dissi- 
 pation ; but to suppose that as a matter of course we can thus 
 abbreviate our prescribed term, and make death become due, 
 just as we are tired of life, is to fall into the ludicrous error of 
 the Irishman, who applied to his friend to discount a bill of 
 exchange, stating that it had only thirty days to run. When 
 he brought it, however, it was found that forty days would 
 elapse before it became due, in consequence of which his friend 
 objected to cash it. " Ah, now ! " said the Hibernian, " you've 
 forgotten that it is Christmas time. Look how short the days 
 are ! Sure, if it was summer, the whole forty wouldn't make 
 more than thirty." 
 
 CIRCUMSTANCES— If a letter were to be addressed to 
 this most influential word, concluding thus — " I am, sir, your 
 very obedient humble servant," — the greater part of the world 
 might subscribe it, without deviating from the strictest vera- 
 city. » 
 
 CIVILIZATION — Man's struggle upwards, in which 
 millions are trampled to death, that thousands may mount on 
 their bodies. 
 
 There are several meanings included under the term civili- 
 zation ; it means, having better cups and saucers than we had 
 a century or two centuries ago, better laws, better manners ; 
 and it means, also, having nothing to do, — and those who have 
 nothing to do, must either be amused, or expire with gaping. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 63 
 
 For this reason an amusing and entertaining man, who has 
 humor, appears to be in high request in a civilized country. 
 For this reason, only, the most civilized nations have comic 
 papers, and no savage people could appreciate a work like the 
 present. 
 
 The difference between civilized and uncivilized man is 
 nearly the same as that between a learned pig and a wild boar, 
 with this advantage, however, on the side of humanity, that 
 one man or set of men may civilize others, but no trained brute 
 can train or discipline his fellow-brute. 
 
 CIVILIZATION — Advancement of. — A consolatory pro- 
 gression, which ought to make us proud of the present, and to 
 inspire us with confidence in the future. If one of our savage 
 ancestors, slaughtered, we will suppose, by the incursions of 
 some hostile horde, or burnt as a sacrifice in the wicker cages 
 of the Druids, were to revive in the present era, he would 
 find it difficult to pronounce whether the greatest change had 
 occurred in the physical or moral state of his native land. 
 "When he expired, Great Britain, covered with dense unhealthy 
 forests, or noxious swamps and wildernesses, was thinly in- 
 habited by half-naked tribes, forever contending with cold 
 and famine, with the beasts of the field, or with fellow-barba- 
 rians still more ferocious. At his resuscitation he beholds, 
 with utter amazement, how all the past centuries have been 
 the diligent slaves of the present, clearing the forests, draining 
 morasses, digging canals and wells, levelling hills, filling up 
 valleys, making innumerable roads and railways, converting 
 the whole surface of the country into a beautiful and product- 
 ive garden, or studding it with churches and noble or elegant 
 buildings for every imaginable purpose of use and ornament. 
 
 As yet, however, he will have seen nothing. To give him 
 some faint conception of what civilization has effected since 
 the time of his death, I would read to him a striking passage 
 from a modern writer, showing how the comforts and luxuries 
 which no king could command a few centuries ago, are now, 
 under the influence of peace and commerce, brought within 
 the reach of the meanest peasant ; how ships are crossing the 
 
64 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 seas in all directions to minister to Ms enjoyments; how in 
 China they are gathering tea, in the West Indies sugar and 
 cotton, in Italy feeding worms, in Saxony shearing sheep ; 
 how steam-engines are spinning and weaving, and pumping 
 out mines ; how coaches are travelling night and day to ex- 
 pedite letters; how vessels and vehicles are conveying fuel 
 to every door ; how fleets are sailing, and armies are sustained 
 to secure for every subject of the realm protection from for- 
 eign or domestic violence. I would endeavor to make my 
 barbarian auditor understand that our progress in the intellect- 
 ual world has been still greater and more marvellous. I would 
 point out to him that as improvement must now advance in 
 an incalculably accelerated ratio, the melioration of the last 
 thousand years will probably be surpassed in the course of the 
 next one or two centuries ; and then, desiring him to throw 
 his mind forward, if he could, to the termination of that 
 period, I would lead him to form a notion of what has been, 
 and will be accomplished by the march of intellect and the 
 progress of civilization. 
 
 At some future day an intelligent Feejee or New Holland- 
 er, may hold just such a conversation as this with a degen- 
 erate Briton or North American. Sydney Smith did not 
 speak beyond the mark, when he said : " The time may come, 
 when some Botany Bay Tacitus shall record the crimes of 
 an emperor lineally descended from a London pickpocket, or 
 paint the valor with which he has led his New Hollanders 
 into the heart of China. At that period when the Grand 
 Lama is sending to supplicate alliance, when the spice islands 
 are purchasing peace with nutmegs, when enormous tributes 
 of green tea and nankeen are wafted into Port Jackson, and 
 landed on the quays of Sydney, who will ever remember that 
 the sawing of a few planks, and the knocking together a few 
 nails, were such a serious trial of the energies and resources 
 of the nation. 
 
 COLLEGE — An institution where young men are apt to 
 learn every thing but that which professes to be taught, al- 
 though that which professes to be taught falls very short of 
 
THE TEN" TRUMPET. 65 
 
 what a modern gentleman ought to learn. If onr colleges be 
 still the seats of learning, it can only be for the reason assigned 
 in the old epigram — 
 
 " No wonder that Oxford and Cambridge profound, 
 In learning and science so greatly abound, 
 Since some carry thither a little each day, 
 And we meet with so few who bring any away." 
 
 COMFOKT— " Ah ! " said a John Bull to a Frenchman, 
 " you have no such word as ' comfort ' in your language." — 
 "I am glad of it," replied the Gaul; "you Englishmen are 
 slaves to your comforts, in order that you may master them." 
 There is some truth in this reproach. Perpetually toiling for 
 money, with the j>rofessed object of being enabled to live com- 
 fortably, we sacrifice every comfort in the acquisition of a 
 fortune, in order that when we have obtained it, we may have 
 an additional discomfort from our anxiety to preserve or in^ 
 crease it. Thus do we "lose by seeking what we seek to 
 find." On the other hand, we may find a comfort where we 
 never looked for it ; as, for instance, in a great affliction, the 
 very magnitude of which renders us insensible to all smaller 
 ones. Comfort, in our national acceptation of the word, has 
 been stated to consist in those little luxuries and conveniences, 
 the want of which makes an Englishman miserable, while 
 their possession does not make him happy. 
 
 COMMISERATION"— Felonious— There is a large class of 
 idle people in this country, whose palled and jaded feelings 
 can only be -roused by some powerful excitement, whence 
 they derive so much pleasure, that they immediately yearn 
 towards the exciter, however undeserving of their pity. They 
 like a murderer, because he relieves them for a moment from 
 listlessness and ennui, and assists in committing another mur- 
 der, by helping them to kill their greatest enemy — time. The 
 spurious, morbid, perverted sympathy which can only be eli- 
 cited by criminals and malefactors, generally increasing with 
 the enormity of their offences, and which I have stigmatized as 
 the " felonious commiseration," may be compared to the dis- 
 
QQ THE TIN TEUMPET. 
 
 eased taste of certain epicures, who attach no value to a cheese 
 while it is sound, hut dote upon it when it "becomes corrupt, 
 rotten, and rank with all sorts of offensive abominations. 
 
 COMMONPLACE PEOPLE— are content to walk for 
 life in the rut made by their predecessors, long after it has 
 become so deep that they cannot see to the right or left. This 
 keeps them in ignorance and darkness, but it saves them the 
 trouble of thinking or acting for themselves. 
 
 COMPETENCY — A financial horizon, which recedes as 
 we advance. This word is by no means of indefinite meaning. 
 It always signifies a little more than we possess. We are 
 none of us wealthy enough in our own opinion, although we 
 may be too much so in the judgment of others. Content is the 
 best opulence, because it is the pleasantest, and the surest. 
 The richest man is he who does not want that which is want- 
 ing to him ; the poorest is the miser, who wants that which 
 he has. 
 
 COMPLIMENT— A thing often paid by people who pay 
 nothing else : — the counterfeit coin of those who substitute the 
 form, fashion, and language of politeness, for its substance and 
 its feeling. Throwing compliments, like dice, is a game of 
 hazard, at which the incautious player may get nothing but a 
 sharp rap on the knuckles. He who sports compliments, 
 unless he knows how to take a good aim, may miss his mark, 
 and be wounded by the recoil of his own gun. Above all 
 things, it is incumbent upon him to reflect, that even a blue- 
 stocking will look black at him, if he attempt to flatter her 
 mental, at the expense of her personal attractions. At a din- 
 ner party in Paris, an ugly and dull German baron, finding 
 himself seated between the celebrated Madame de Stael, and 
 Madame Recamier, the lelle of the day, whispered to the for- 
 mer : " Am I not fortunate, to be thus placed between beauty 
 and talent ? " — " Not so very fortunate," replied the offended 
 authoress, " since you possess neither one nor the other! " 
 
 "Helas! le pauvre due cPAumontf" exclaimed one of hia 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 67 
 
 female friends; "who would have thought that he would 
 have been carried off so suddenly ?— On the very morning of 
 his death, he had played as usual with his parroquet and his 
 monkey, — he had said, give me my snuff-box, brush this arm 
 chair, let me see my new court dress ; — in fact, he possessed 
 all his ideas and faculties with as much strength and vigor as 
 ever he had done at the age of thirty." What an unintended 
 satire in these tender compliments. ISTot more so, however, 
 than in the naif remark of a lady, when a censorious and 
 conceited neighbor, vaunting of her good figure, boasted that 
 herself and her sister had always been remarkable for the 
 beauty of their backs. " That is the reason, I suppose, that 
 your friends are always so glad to see them." A sarcasm may 
 often wear the garb of a compliment, and be taken for one by 
 the simple-witted. The Abbe Voisenon once made a com- 
 plaint that he was unduly charged with the absurd sayings of 
 others. "Monsieur VAbbe" replied D'Alembert, "on neprete 
 qifaux riches.'''' 
 
 Mr. Ohoate, wishing to compliment Chief Justice Shaw, 
 exclaimed : " When I look upon the venerable Chief Justice 
 Shaw, I am like a Hindoo before his idol — I know that he is 
 ugly, but I feel that he is great." 
 
 Not altogether unworthy of being recorded is the compli- 
 ment attributed to a butcher at Whitby. " This fillet of veal 
 seems not quite so white as usual," said a fair lady, laying her 
 hand upon it. — "Put on your glove, Ma'am, and you will 
 think otherwise," was the complaisant reply. 
 
 Wolcott (Peter Pindar) admired a Miss Dickenson, and has 
 handed down her name in this very neat compliment : — 
 
 " In ancient days, great Jove, to show 
 To gazing mortals here below 
 The loves, the virtues, and the graces, 
 Was forced to form three female faces. 
 But (so improved his art divine) 
 In one fair female now they shine. 
 Aloud I hear the reader cry, 
 ' Heavens (to the poet) ! what a lie ! ' 
 Now, as I hate the name of liar, 
 Sweet Dickenson, I do desire 
 You'll see this unbelieving Jew, 
 And prove that all I've said is true 1 " 
 
68 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 CONCEIT — Taking ourselves at our own valuation, gener- 
 ally about fifty per cent, above the fair worth. Minerva threw 
 away the flute, when she found that it puffed up her own 
 cheeks ; but if we cast away the flute nowadays, it is only 
 that we may take a larger instrument of puffing, by becoming 
 our own trumpeters. Empty minds are the most prone to soar 
 above their proper sphere, like paper kites, which are kept 
 aloft by their own lightness; while those that are better 
 stored are prone to humility, like heavily laden vessels, of 
 which we see the less the more richly and deeply they are 
 freighted. The corn bends itself downward when its ears are 
 filled, but when the heads of the conceited are filled with self- 
 adulation, they only lift them up higher. 
 
 Perhaps it is a benevolent provision of Providence, that 
 "we should possess in fancy those good qualities which are 
 withheld from us in reality ; for if we did not occasionally 
 think well of ourselves, we .should be more apt to think ill 
 of others. It must be confessed, that the conceited and the 
 vain have a light and pleasant duty to perform, since they 
 have but one to please, and in that object they seldom fail. 
 Self-love, moreover, is the only love not liable to the pangs of 
 jealousy. Pity ! that a quick perception of our own deserts 
 generally blinds us to the merits of others ; that we should 
 see more than all the world in the former instance, and less in 
 the latter ! In one respect, conceited people show a degree of 
 discernment, for which they deserve credit, — they soon become 
 tired of their own company. Especially fortunate are they in 
 another respect ; for while the really wise, witty, and beauti- 
 ful, are subject to casualties of defect, age, and sickness, the 
 imaginary possessor of those qualities wears a charmed life, 
 and fears not the assaults of fate or time, since a nonentity is 
 invulnerably Even the really gifted, however, may some- 
 times become conceited. North cote, the artist, whose intel- 
 lectual powers were equal to his professional talent, and who 
 thought it much easier for a roan to be his superior than his 
 equal, being once asked by Sir William Knighton what he 
 thought of the Prince Kegent, replied, " I am not acquainted 
 with him." — " Why, his Koyal Highness says he knows you." 
 — " Know me ! — Pooh ! that's all his brag." 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 69 
 
 CONDESCENSION— I have heard that when a goose 
 passes under an arch, or through a doorway, of whatever 
 altitude, it always stoops ; and this, I suppose, is condescen- 
 sion. To say truth, wherever I have seen an ostentation of 
 condescension, it has reminded me of geese. 
 
 CONGREGATION— A public assemblage in a spiritual 
 theatre, where all the performers are professors, but where 
 very few of the professors are performers. 
 
 " Taking them one with another," said the Eev. S — S — , 
 " I believe my congregation to be most exemplary observers 
 of the religious ordinances ; for the poor keep all the fasts, and 
 the rich all the feasts." This fortunate flock might be matched 
 
 with the crew of the A frigate, whose commander, Capt. 
 
 R — , told a friend that he had just left them the happiest set 
 of fellows in the world. Knowing the captain's extreme 
 severity, his friend expressed some surprise at this statement, 
 and demanded an explanation. " Why," said the disciplina- 
 rian, " I have just had nineteen of the rascals flogged, and they 
 are happy that it is over, while all the rest are happy that 
 they have escaped." 
 
 CONSCIENCE — Something to swear by. Conscience 
 being regulated by the opinion of the world, has no very de- 
 termined standard of morality. Among the ancient Greeks 
 and Romans, suicide was a magnanimous virtue, with us it is 
 a cowardly crime. The Spartans taught their children to steal ; 
 we whip and imprison ours for the same act. No man's con- 
 science stings him for killing a single adversary in a duel, or 
 scores in war, because these deeds are in accordance with the 
 usages of society ; but he may, nevertheless, be arraigned, per- 
 chance, for murder, at the bar of the Almighty. Terror of 
 conscience, therefore, would seem to be the fear of infamy, 
 detection, or punishment in this world, rather than in the 
 next. Criminals, who voluntarily surrender themselves to jus- 
 tice, and confess their misdeeds, are, doubtless, driven to that 
 act of desperation by their conscience ; but it is from a dread 
 of Jack Ketch, and the intolerableness of suspense. They 
 
70 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 would rather be hanged once in reality than every day in im- 
 agination. Pass a law that shall legalize their offences, or let 
 them be tried and acquitted, from some flaw in the indictment, 
 and their minds will be wonderfully tranquillized. How much 
 safer a guide and monitor would our conscience become, if we 
 adapted it to the immutable laws of God, instead of the fluc- 
 tuating opinions of man, and were penetrated with the great 
 truth that, whatever may be our present feelings, there is an 
 inevitable ultimate connection between happiness and virtue, 
 misery and vice. 
 
 There is a Greek epigram to the effect that it would be a 
 good thing if the headache came before the drinking bowl, in- 
 stead of after it. Suppose it were so ordered, that the twinges 
 of conscience should be palpable and physical instead of men- 
 tal, we should find the morals of mankind wonderfully im- 
 proved ; I mean, if retribution were but simultaneous with 
 transgression ; if, for example, that thing we call conscience 
 were attached to one of the vertebras, and, at the same time 
 that it warned us, began to tug away at some exquisitely sen- 
 sitive nerve. What alderman would gloat on venison, if, 
 after having taken as much as was good for him, Conscience, 
 the moment he set up for a superfluous slice, admonished him 
 of his folly by a sudden fit of the colic, instead of a sleepy, dozy 
 intimation, that ten or twenty years hence, if he lived so 
 long, he would repent it; or if a liar, the moment his tongue 
 began to wag, found his face blushing with St. Anthony's fire, 
 instead of the faint tints of shame ; or if a thief detected the 
 incipient feeling of covetousness by a desperate contempora- 
 neous twinge of gout in his great toe ; or if the hypocrite (as 
 according to Swedenborg's notion of " spiritual correspond- 
 ences " he is, or ought to be) were told of his fault by a 
 swinging paroxysm of toothache ! 
 
 CONSERVATIVES— Those "solid gentlemen" who go 
 about treading upon the coat-tails of Progress, and crying, 
 whoa! whoa! 
 
 CONSISTENCY—^ Inconsistency. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 71 
 
 CONSOLATION"— for unsuccessful authors. "Many works," 
 says Chamfort, " succeed, because the mediocrity of the author's 
 ideas exactly corresponds with the mediocrity of ideas on the 
 part of the public." "Writers who fail in hitting the present 
 taste, are apt to appeal to posterity, which, even if it should 
 ratify their fond anticipations, (a rare occurrence,) will only 
 show that they have still failed, because they have gained an 
 object which they did not seek, and missed that which they 
 sought. Let him profess what he will, every man writes to be 
 read by his contemporaries ; otherwise why does he publish ? 
 It would be a poor compliment to a sportsman to say — " You 
 have missed all the birds at which you took aim, but you fire 
 so well that your shot will be sure to hit something before 
 they fall to the ground." He who professes to do without the 
 living, and yet wants the suffrages of the unborn, stands little 
 chance of obtaining his election, and is sure that he cannot 
 enjoy it, even if he succeed. Few will possess such claims to 
 celebrity as Kepler, the German astronomer ; and yet there 
 was a sense of mortification, as well as an almost profane 
 arrogance, when, on the failure of one of his works to excite 
 attention, he exclaimed, " My book may well wait a hundred 
 years for a reader, since God himself has been content to wait 
 six thousand years for an observer like myself." 
 
 CONTENT— A mental Will-o'-the-wisp, which all are 
 seeking, but which few attain. And yet every one might 
 succeed, if he would think more of what he has, and less of 
 what he wants. Daily experience may convince us that those 
 who possess what we covet, are not a jot more happy than 
 ourselves : why then should we labor and toil in chasing dis- 
 appointment ? How few feel gratitude for what they have, 
 compared to those who pine for what they have not ! Aut 
 Ccesar aut nullus is the prevalent motto : not to have every 
 thing, is to have nothing. Like the famous Duke of Bucking- 
 ham, some are more impatient of successes, than others are of 
 reverses ; by basking in the sunshine of fortune, they become 
 sour, and turn to vinegar. 
 
72 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 " Let this plain truth those ingrates strike, 
 
 Who still, though bless'd, new blessings crave, 
 That we may all have what we like, 
 Simply by liking what we have." 
 
 Or, if this fail, let us call arithmetic to our aid, and learn 
 content from comparing ourselves and our lot with the many 
 who want what we possess, rather than with the few who pos- 
 sess what we want. 
 
 CONTROVERSY— What a blessing to the world if it had 
 exemplified the dictum of Sir William Temple, that all such 
 controversies as can never end, had much better never begin ! 
 At the present moment, when the necessity of a Church refor- 
 mation is so generally discussed, it may not be uninteresting 
 to reprint the lines on the famous controversy between John 
 Rainolds and one of his brothers, wherein each converted the 
 other. 
 
 " In points of faith some undetermined jars, 
 Betwixt two brothers, kindled civil wars : 
 One for the Church's reformation stood, 
 The other held no reformation good. 
 The points proposed, they traversed the field 
 With equal strength; so equally they yield. 
 As each desired, his brother each subdues ; 
 Tet such their faith, that each his faith does lose. 
 Both joyed in being conquered, strange to say, 
 And yet both moura'd, because both won the day." 
 
 As to religious controversy, we will set an example worthy 
 of all imitation, by saying nothing about it, further than to refer 
 the curious in such matters to the tomb of Sir Henry Wotton, 
 in the chapel at Eton, whereon is the following inscription : 
 " Hie jacet hujus sententiae primus auctor : — Disputandi pru- 
 ritus Ecclesioz scabies.' 1 ' 1 " Here lies the first author of this 
 sentence : — The itch of disputation is the scab of the Church." 
 
 CONVERSATION— Rational {See Library)— Solitude— 
 any thing but company. Despotic but civilized countries, such 
 as France under the old monarchy, where the men, having 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 73 
 
 little or iio share in the government, and being unembittered 
 by party politics, throw their whole minds into social inter- 
 course, are the best adapted for conversational excellence. In 
 England we have too much business and too much political 
 acrimony to allow us either time or aptitude for the enjoyment 
 of society in all its nonchalance, sprightliness, and vivacity ; 
 while even the narrow bounds left to us are still further re- 
 stricted by our pride, reserve, and exclusiveness. How incal- 
 culably would the tone of conversation be improved, if it 
 offered no exceptions to the example of Bishop Beveridge : 
 "I resolve never to speak of a man's virtues to his face, nor of 
 his faults behind his back." A golden rule ! the observation 
 of which would at once banish flattery and defamation from 
 the earth. Conversation stock being a joint and common 
 property, every one should take a share in it ; and yet there 
 may be societies in which silence will be our best contribution. 
 "When Isocrates, dining with the King of Cyprus, was asked why 
 he did not mix in the discourse of the company, he replied, 
 " What is seasonable I do not know, and what I know is not 
 seasonable." 
 
 A brilliant talker is not always liked by those whom he 
 has most amused, for we are seldom pleased with those who 
 have in any way made us feel our inferiority. " The happiest 
 conversation," says Dr. Johnson, " is that of which nothing is 
 distinctly remembered, but a general effect of pleasing impres- 
 sion." — " Ko one," says Dean Locker, " will ever shine in con- 
 versation, who thinks of saying fine things : to please, one 
 must say many things indifferent, and many very bad." This 
 last rule is rarely violated in society ! 
 
 COQUETTE — A female general who builds her fame on 
 her advances. A coquette may be compared to tinder, which 
 lays itself out to catch sparks, but does not always succeed in 
 lighting up a match. Men are perverse creatures ; they fly 
 that which pursues them, and pursue that which flies them. 
 Forwardness, therefore, on the part of a female, makes them 
 draw back, and backwardness draws them forward. There 
 will always be this difference between a coquette and a woman 
 4 
 
74 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 of sense and modesty, that while one courts every man, every 
 man will court the other. "When the coquette settles into an 
 old maid, it is not unusual to see her as staid and formal as she 
 was previously versatile : — 
 
 " Thus weathercocks, which for a while 
 Have turn'd about with every blast, 
 Grown old, and destitute of oil, 
 Eust to a point, and fix at last." 
 
 COUNTERACTION— a balancing provision of nature, for 
 the prevention of excess, whether in morals or mechanics. 
 But for this salutary restraint, even our virtues would he 
 pushed to a vicious extreme. How many men do we encounter 
 in society whose praises of their friends, when speaking to 
 their faces, would appear fulsome flattery, were it not quali- 
 fied by their disparagement of the same friends behind 
 their backs ! Others there are whose warm offers of assist- 
 ance to such as do not need their aid, would appear generous 
 even to a fault, did we not invariably find that they are 
 equally cold, shy, and cautious where there is any probability 
 of their professions being accepted. People may run into 
 excess with their vices, but their virtues, thanks to this whole- 
 some principle of counteraction, are seldom urged beyond the 
 boundaries of prudence. 
 
 COUNTRY-GIRL— Here is one of the olden time : 
 
 " Although I am a country lass, 
 A lofty mind I bear-a ; 
 I think myself as good as those 
 That gay apparel wear-a. 
 
 " What though I keep my father's sheep, 
 A thing that must be done-a; 
 A garland of the fairest flowers 
 Shall shield me from the sun-a. 
 
 " And when I see them feeding here, 
 Where grass and flowers spring-a, 
 Close by a crystal fountain's side, 
 I'll sit me down and sing-a. 
 
 " I care not for the fan or mask, 
 When Titan's heat reflecteth ; 
 A homely hat is all I ask, 
 Which well my face protecteth. 
 
THE TIN TEUMPET. 75 
 
 " Tet am I in my country guise 
 Esteemed a lass as pretty 
 As those that every day devise 
 New shapes in court or city." 
 
 COURAGE— The fear of being thought a coward. The 
 reverence that withholds us from violating the laws of God or 
 man is not infrequently branded with the name of cowardice. 
 The Spartans had a saying, that he who stood most in fear of 
 the law, generally showed the least fear of an enemy. We 
 may infer the truth of this dictum from the reverse of the 
 proposition, for daily experience shows us that they who are 
 the most daring in a bad cause, are often the most pusillani- 
 mous in a good one. Bravery is a cheap and vulgar quality, 
 of which the highest instances are frequently found in the 
 lowest savages, and which is often still more conspicuous 
 in the brute creation than in the most intrepid of the human 
 race. Equally signal were the courage and the candor of 
 the man of Amiens, who being driven to the gates of his 
 own city, cried out, " Come on, if you dare, cuckolds of Abbe- 
 ville ; we are here four to one of you." 
 
 COURT — "La Cour," says La Bruyere, " ne rend pas 
 content ; mats elle empeche qu'on ne le soit ailleurs.''' 1 If there 
 be truth in this position, a luckless courtier must somewhat 
 resemble the showman's amphibious animal — " who cannot 
 live on the land, and dies in the water." 
 
 COUSIN" — A periodical bore from the country, who, because 
 you happen to have some of his blood, thinks he may inflict the 
 whole of his body upon you during his stay in town. "We 
 do not mention his mind, because it is generally a nonentity. . 
 
 CREATION" — Lord of the — An ephemeral insect, the slave, 
 too often, of his own passions. If this magisterial worm con- 
 templates a map of the world, he will find that nearly three- 
 fifths of it are covered by the sea and polar ice, and appear 
 consequently to have been made for the occupation and accom- 
 modation of fishes, rather than of human beings; while no 
 
76 THE TIN TBUMPET 
 
 small portion of the earth is in the possession of wild beasts 
 and savages. . If he considers his body, he will find it inferior, in 
 some of its most important functions, to many of the animals ; 
 but if he look into his mind, he will instantly discover sufficient 
 vindication for the proud title he has assumed. By the study 
 of geology, he can throw back his existence into the remote 
 eras, long before the creation of man. History makes him 
 contemporary with all the celebrated nations of antiquity; 
 speculation carries his life forward into an illimitable futurity ; 
 astronomy enables him to develop the laws by which the 
 universe is governed, and to penetrate, as it were, into the 
 secrets of the Deity. Thus doth he conquer both time and 
 space. The beautiful and majestic earth is his footstool, he 
 walks between two eternities. God is everywhere round about 
 him, a beatific immortality is before him. Truly this august 
 creature may justly term himself the Lord of the creation. 
 
 CREDULITY— An instinct of youth. " The simple be- 
 lieveth every word, but the prudent man looketh well to his 
 going." Prov. xiv. 15. Credulity diminishes as we gather 
 wisdom by experience, and yet, even among the old and sus- 
 picious, it is probable that many falsehoods are believed, for 
 a single truth that is disbelieved. The young having a constant 
 tendency to welcome pleasant and repel disagreeable impres- 
 sions, reject as long as they can the painful feeling of suspicion. 
 Belief, like a young puppy, is born blind ; and must swallow 
 whatever food is given to it ; when it can see, it caters for 
 itself. Or it may be better compared to the block of marble, 
 and Truth to the statue within it, at which we can only arrive 
 by perpetually cutting away the fragments that enclose and 
 conceal it. As a good workman is known by the quantity of his 
 chips, so may a penetrative mind by the rubbish and heaps of 
 discarded credulity with which it is surrounded. Taking the 
 whole world at the present moment, can it be said to believe a 
 thousandth part of what it believed a thousand, years ago ? 
 
 CRITIC — Malignant — A braggadocio of minuteness — a 
 swaggering chronologer ; a man bristling up with small facts — 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 77 
 
 prurient with dates — wantoning in obsolete evidence — loftily 
 dull, and haughty in his drudgery. No sooner do they see the 
 announcement of your work than they prepare for its destruc- 
 tion ; with an intuitive penetration they decide upon its guilt, 
 while yet in the womb ; and before it is born they have 
 settled exactly the method in which it shall be damned. 
 
 CRITICS— Nambt Pamby — Individuals who follow puffing 
 as a business, trusting thereby to get an occasional blow out. 
 
 CRITICISM — very often consists of measuring the learning 
 and the wisdom of others, either by our own ignorance, or by our 
 little technical and pedantic partialities and prejudices. Every 
 one has heard of the mathematician who objected to Shak- 
 speare, that his works proved nothing. Equally luminous was 
 the remark of the lawyer, who, happening to catch the words— 
 "a deed without a name," uttered by the witches in Macbeth, 
 repeated — " A deed without a name ! — why, 'tis void." In the 
 same enlarged spirit is much of our criticism written ; but even 
 this is better than the feeling of rancor and bitterness by 
 which it is too often perverted from its legitimate ends, and 
 rendered subservient, by the most disingenuous acts, to the 
 gratification of personal pique or party malevolence. As the 
 devil can quote scripture for his purpose, so can the practised 
 critic, by severing passages from their context, and placing 
 them in a ridiculous or distorting light, make the most praise- 
 worthy work appear to condemn itself. A book thus unfairly 
 treated, may be compared to the laurel, of which there is honor 
 in the leaves, but poison in the extract. 
 
 Of much of our contemporary criticism, which consists 
 rather in reviewing writers than writings, we may find a fair 
 type in the following passage from a letter of the celebrated 
 Waller: "The old blind schoolmaster, John Milton, hath 
 published a tedious poem on the fall of man ; if its length be 
 not considered as merit, it hath no other." 
 
 Pepys, in his Memoirs, thus speaks of Hudibras : " "When I 
 came to read it, it is so silly an abuse of the Presbyter knight 
 going to the wars, that I am ashamed of it ; and by and by> 
 
78 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 meeting at Mr. Townsend's at dinner, I sold it to Mr. Battersby 
 for 18^." ! There are living critics who seem to have caught 
 the mantle of these sapient judges. 
 
 CUNNING — The simplicity by which knaves generally 
 outwit themselves. As the ignorant and unsuspicious are often 
 protected by their singleness of purpose, so are the crafty and 
 designing not unfrequently foiled by their duplicity. It is not 
 every rogue that, like a bowl, can gain his object the better by 
 deviating from the straight line ; although there is one straight 
 line to which the rogue's deviations are very apt to conduct 
 him. 
 
 CURIOSITY — Looking over other people's affairs, and 
 overlooking our own. If a spy may be executed by the laws 
 of war, surely a Paul Pry may be kicked or horsewhipped by 
 the laws of society. There is no peace with such a man, unless 
 you declare war against him. Xenocrates, reprehending curi- 
 osity, said, " It was as rude to intrude into another man's house 
 with your eyes, as with your feet." 
 
 Among the many illustrations of female curiosity since the 
 time of Bluebeard, there are few more amusing than the French 
 anecdote of two Catholic young ladies, who tossed up which 
 should confess to fornication, in order to learn the meaning of 
 the word ; while another bought a printed catalogue of crimes, 
 and confessed to so many, that the confessor's hair stood on 
 end, until she added Simony to the list. 
 
 CUSTOM — A reason for irrational things, and an excuse 
 for inexcusable ones. While we exercise our own judgment 
 in all matters of importance, we should do well, in trifles, to 
 conform, without inquiry, to existing modes. " A froward 
 retention of custom," says Lord Bacon, "is as turbulent a thing 
 as an innovation ; " a dictum which we recommend to the 
 special consideration of our Conservatives. Most shrewd and 
 discreet was the advice of the old lady, who, on her first settle- 
 ment at Constantinople, advised her children to conform strictly 
 to the manners and customs of the inhabitants, adding — " When 
 
THE TIN TRUMPJET. 79 
 
 people are in Turkey, they should live as turkeys live." Per- 
 haps the power of custom was never more strongly exemplified 
 than in the case of Ariosto's hero, who was so habituated to 
 fighting, that he went on combating, even after he was dead. 
 
 II pover uomo che non se n'era accorto, 
 Andava combattendo — ed era morto." 
 
 DAY AND MAKTIN— Falsifiers of prophecy. Thirty 
 years ago, our wiseacres predicted, that when all could read 
 and write, we should find none to black our shoes. The day 
 of evil has arrived : everybody can read and write ; our shoes 
 are not only better blacked than ever, but they are polished 
 by comparatively polished people ; our blacking-makers acquire 
 fortunes, and build palaces, thus giving encouragement to 
 other arts than the black one ; and it is even reported that a 
 London firm keeps a regular bard upon the establishment, to 
 write poetical puffs. 
 
 Nevertheless, we have heard of a saucy knight of the 
 
 shoulder-knot, who, on applying to the irascible Colonel B , 
 
 while he was at his desk, for the vacant situation of valet, 
 asked permission to state beforehand that he never touched a 
 boot, and inquired who was to do the black work ? " That I 
 do myself," cried the Colonel, throwing the inkstand in his 
 face ; " and as you never touch a boot, I must make my boot 
 touch you," — with which words he kicked him down stairs. 
 
 DEATH— 
 
 Leaves have their time to fall, 
 And flowers to wither at the North wind's breath ; 
 
 And stars to set — but all, 
 Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death 1 
 
 The sleeping partner of life — a change of existence. 
 This great and insolvable mystery, which we are ever 
 flying from and running towards, is by no means the cpofiepov 
 <po(3ep<l)TaTov that our fancy sometimes represents it. To live 
 is, in fact, to die, and to die is to live ; for the body is the 
 grave of the soul, and death the gate of life. If to expire be 
 an evil, it is only a negative one, which might well be endured, 
 
80 THE TIN TRUMPET, 
 
 since it terminates those that are positive. If it be a rod, it is 
 like that of Aaron, which blossoms and bears the fruit of peace. 
 "Why should a long be less pleasant than a short sleep ? Post- 
 natal cannot differ from ante-natal unconsciousness — we were 
 dead before we lived ; ceasing to exist is only returning to our 
 former state, speaking always with reference to this world. 
 
 It is what we are flying from, rather than to, that often 
 makes us unwilling to sustain so " violent a wrench from all 
 we love ;" an argument which one of the fathers adduces as 
 an excuse for the bitterness of the world : ;i Amarus est mun- 
 dus, et diligitur. Puta, si dulcis esset, qualiter amareturP 
 A French monarch being told, in his last moments, that he would 
 soon be a saint in heaven, exclaimed sorrowfully, " I should 
 have been quite content to remain King of France and Navarre." 
 
 " Ah, David, David ! " said Johnson to Garrick, who had 
 been showing him his house and grounds at Hampton,—" these 
 are the things that make a death-bed terrible ! '* Had he been 
 reading in the Alceste — 
 
 " Ce sont les douceurs de la vie, 
 Qui font les horreurs du trepas ; " — 
 
 or Horace's 
 
 "Linquenda tellus, et domus, et placens 
 Uxor, neque harum quas colis arborum, 
 Te, praeter invisos cupressos, 
 Ulla brevem domiuum sequetiur ? " 
 
 Montaigne makes Nature address man in the following 
 words: — " Sortez de ce monde comme vous y etes entre; le 
 meme passage que vous avez fait de la mort d la vie, sans pas- 
 sion et sans frayeur, refaites-la de la vie d la mort. Votre 
 mort est une des pieces de Vordre de Vunivers ; une piece de la vie 
 
 du monde. Si vous rCaviez la mort, vous me maudoriez sans 
 
 cesse de vous en avoir priveP 
 
 " O Death, I bless thee ! " exclaims Le Mercier, in a tone 
 of bitter eloquence. " Thou shakest tyrants ; thou reducest to 
 dust those whom the world had flattered, and who made man- 
 kind their footstool. They fall, and we breathe more freely. 
 Hope of the unfortunate ! terror of the wicked ! stretch out 
 thine arm, and strike the persecutors of the earth. And ye 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 81 
 
 voracious worms ! my friends and my avengers ! hasten in 
 crowds to the feast of their crime-fattened carcasses ! " 
 
 He that would die sooner or later than he ought, is equally 
 a coward. Caesar, when he heard of any sudden death, used to 
 wish — " sibi et suis euthanasiam similem" and he was right ; 
 for the aspect, the threats, and the hark, of death, are worse 
 than his hite. 
 
 The author of the following stanzas seems to have been of 
 Caesar's opinion : — 
 
 " Oh I come not, thou skeleton king, in the garb 
 
 Of a lingering sickness to summon thy prize, 
 To hover above me with menacing barb, 
 
 And dangle its ominous glare in mine eyes — 
 For see ! I have open'd my breast, that thy dart 
 May be steadily aim'd at a resolute heart. 
 
 " Be the grass of the meadow my pillow of death, 
 
 And the friends that surround it — the sea and the sky ; 
 May the angel-wing' d breezes receive my last breath, 
 
 To be borne to its Heavenly Giver on high ! — 
 Be the spot where I fall unprofaned by a tear, 
 Save the dews of the night that descend on my bier." 
 
 Death is the only subject upon which everybody speaks 
 and writes, without a possibility of having experienced what 
 he undertakes to discuss. Contempt of it is seldom real ; it is 
 but the love of glory : many, besides Mirabeau, have drama- 
 tized their own exits. Most consolatory is the reflection, that 
 if this great consummation puts an end to the enjoyments of 
 some, it terminates the sufferings of all. Death is a silent, 
 peaceful genius, who rocks our second childhood to sleep in 
 the cradle of the coffin. 
 
 It is the proud prerogative of noble natures, that they 
 retain their influence after death. The lamps which guided us 
 on earth become stars to light us from above, and the benefi- 
 cent may still claim our aspirations as the blessed ; — a species 
 of apotheosis equally honorable to the living and the dead. 
 
 DEBT — National — Mortgaging the property of our pos- 
 terity, that we may be better enabled to destroy our contempo- 
 raries. It may be questionable, whether any community has 
 
82 THE TIN TKUMPET. 
 
 a moral right to discount the future for the purpose of tor- 
 menting or corrupting the present ; to exhaust the resources 
 of many ages, that it may render the pugnacity and ambition of 
 its own more extensively mischievous. 
 
 Speaking of the difference between laying out money in 
 land, or investing it in the funds, it was said by Soame Jenyns, 
 that one was principal without interest, and the other interest 
 without principal. 
 
 DECEPTION — A principal ingredient in happiness — Did 
 we possess the spear of Ithuriel, or could we realize the sug- 
 gestion of Momus, we should gain a fearful loss. An enemy to 
 education, when told that the schoolmaster was abroad, replied, 
 " I am very glad to hear it ; I hope he will remain there ! " 
 A friend to his species will utter a similar aspiration respecting 
 Truth, if he believes the popular saying, that she lies at the bot- 
 tom of a well. Instead of regretting that we are sometimes 
 deceived, we should rather lament that we are ever undeceived. 
 But, alas ! as Seneca says — " Nemo omnes, neminem omnes 
 fefellerunt." — None deceives all, and none have all deceived. 
 
 DEDICATION — Inscribing to an individual that which, if 
 it be worth encouragement, will find its best patron in the 
 public. Kopp, the German, prefixed the following short, but 
 pithy dedication to his Palasographia Critica : — " Posteris hoc 
 opus, ab cequalium meorum studiis forte alienum, do, dico, 
 a.tque dedico." Upon these occasions, one cannot help shar- 
 ing the apprehension expressed by Voltaire, that the work 
 may never reach the party to whom it is addressed ! 
 
 DESCKIPTION — A living critic has laid it down as a rule, 
 that no author can succeed in describing what he has not seen, 
 forgetting that Dante was never in hell, nor Milton in para- 
 dise ; and that it is the highest praise of Shakspeare to have 
 " exhausted worlds, and then imagined new." Inventive 
 writers evince their talent by portraying the invisible and 
 non-existent, snatching a grace, not only beyond the reach of 
 art, but beyond the reach of nature. Little right had the 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 83 
 
 critic in question to expect imagination in others, for it is 
 manifest that he possessed none himself. 
 
 DELPHINE — A novel of the hlood-and-thunder school of 
 fiction now in vogue, written by Madame de Stael at the 
 beginning of the present century. It lives now only through 
 the smashing criticism by which Sydney Smith handed it down 
 to an immortality of contempt. He says of it : 
 
 " This dismal trash, which has nearly dislocated the jaws of every critic 
 among us with gaping, has so alarmed Bonaparte, that he has seized the whole 
 impression, sent Madame de Stael out of Paris, and, for aught we know, sleeps 
 in a nightcap of steel and dagger-proof blankets. To us it appears rather an 
 attack upon the Ten Commandments, than the government of Bonaparte, and 
 calculated not so much to enforce the rights of the Bourbons, as the benefits of 
 adultery, murder, and a great number of other vices, which have been some- 
 how or other strangely neglected in this country, and too much so (according 
 to the apparent opinion of Madame de Stael) even in France." 
 
 ********** 
 
 To conclude : our general opinion of this book is, that it 
 is calculated to shed a mild lustre over adultery ; by gentle and 
 convenient gradation, to destroy the modesty and the caution 
 of women, to facilitate the acquisition of easy vices, and encum- 
 ber the difficulty of virtue. What a wretched qualification of 
 this censure to add, that the badness of the principles is alone 
 corrected by the badness of the style, and that this celebrated 
 lady would have been very guilty, if she had not been very 
 dull! 
 
 DESPONDENCY — Ingratitude to heaven, as cheerfulness 
 is the best and most acceptable piety. H — , who is bilious, 
 and hypochondriacal, may be termed a constitutional grumbler. 
 " If my future life," he one day exclaimed, " be only an unex- 
 ecuted copy, an unheard echo, an invisible reflection of the 
 past, I wish it not to be prolonged. Eunning after happiness, 
 is only chasing the horizon, or seeking the philosopher's stone, 
 and I am already 
 
 " ' Tired of toiling for the chymic gold, 
 That fools us young, and beggars us when old.' " 
 
 D — does not possess the talents of H — , but his bile is 
 never deranged ; he has a fortunate organization ; he is a happier, 
 
84 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 and, so far, a wiser man. Like the bee, which extracts honey 
 even from hitter flowers, he can derive cheerfulness from the 
 most unpromising elements. Are his companions gloomy, 
 disagreeable, silent, — he calls forth his own stores of pleasant- 
 ness, and if he do not succeed in enlivening others, which is 
 but rarely the case, — for good-humor and good spirits are 
 often catching, — he finds cause for gratitude that he himself 
 possesses a constant aptitude for the enjoyment of existence, 
 while so many are enacting the part of Terence's Heautonti- 
 morumenos. Is the scenery picturesque, it exalts his admira- 
 tion into rapture ; is it flat and commonplace, it still possesses 
 an interest for one who feels that every spot of ground, how- 
 ever unattractive, conduces to some benevolent purpose of 
 utility or enjoyment. Does the sun shine, its jocund beams 
 heighten his natural exhilaration, by lifting up his thoughts to 
 the great Source of all light, solar as well as intellectual. Is 
 it a rainy day, he sees the outstretched hand of the same 
 beneficent Deity, guiding the clouds over the earth, that they 
 may dispense fertility and gladness to the creatures whom He 
 has called into existence, and around whom He is forever 
 scattering blessings. I know not how H — may feel upon the 
 occasion, but, for my own part, I would gladly give up what- 
 ever I may possess of talent and learning — (deem me not over- 
 weening, gentle reader ! for, perchance, I may reckon them as 
 Indians do rupees — by the lack) — I would give them all up, I 
 repeat, to possess the happy disposition of D — . 
 
 DESPOTISM — Allowing a whole people no other means of 
 escape from oppression than by the assassination of their 
 oppressor. If tyranny be an unjustifiable liberticide, may not 
 tyrannicide be termed justifiable homicide? "We moot the 
 point, without presuming to decide it. Despotism, nevertheless, 
 has its advantages in a barbarous and ignorant country, where 
 its evils are little felt. Peter the Great, of Russia, could hardly 
 have accomplished so much in civilizing his subjects, if he had 
 not been an absolute monarch. Even among a comparatively 
 enlightened people, such is the force of habit, that a long- 
 established despotism may continue unabated, without being 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 85 
 
 resented by its victims. For two centuries, at least, the French 
 presented the anomaly of a polished, intellectual, enslaved 
 people. Nay, they could record their degradation, and seem 
 to glory in it. The terror of Eur#pe, named, par excellence, the 
 Grand Monarque, was the puppet of an old woman, the widow 
 of Scarron, the buffoon, whom he had clandestinely married. 
 " The State is myself," said Louis XIV. ; an ebullition of des- 
 potism imitated in our own times by Napoleon ; so besotting is 
 the cup of unlimited power. In its self-punishing operation, 
 it generally weakens the mind, until the enslaver becomes a 
 slave, either to a mistress or a favorite, if not to both. 
 
 There is a natural connection between despotic governments 
 and depraved manners, — free governments and comparative 
 purity. Free institutions not only open to the rich higher and 
 more worthy objects of ambition than the gratification of the 
 senses, but operate as a wholesome restraint upon the upper 
 ranks, by making them dependent, in some degree, on the good 
 opinion of the lower classes. Where character is power, we 
 have the best security for general morality. 
 
 Perhaps the worst thing ever uttered by Madame de Stael, 
 was her speech to the Emperor of Eussia : — " Sir, your charac- 
 ter is a constitution for- your country, and your conscience its 
 guarantee;" nor is there a better kingly speech upon record 
 than his reply, — " Even if it were so, I should never be any 
 thing more than a lucky accident." 
 
 DESTINY — The scapegoat which we make responsible for 
 all our crimes and follies ; a necessity which we set down for 
 invincible, when we have no wish to strive against it. 
 
 DESTINY — Manifest — A political fallacy, by which 
 second-rate statesmen endeavor to prove the righteousness of 
 national Fillibusterism. They should remember that God, not 
 Tammany, shapes the destiny of a great nation ; and that the 
 self-elected interpreters of His will are madly " rushing in 
 where angels fear to tread." That God, for his all-wise pur- 
 poses, permitted a Napoleon to ravage Europe, does not make 
 Napoleon less a wholesale murderer ; nor justify the silly 
 
86 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 bravadoes of pot-house-destiny men. Man proposes and God 
 disposes. As with individuals, so with nations, " the coursers 
 of Time hurry on the light car of our destiny, and all we can 
 do is in cool self-possession to hold the reins with a firm hand, 
 and to guide the wheels, now to the left, now to the right, 
 avoiding a stone here or a precipice there." 
 
 DIET — The edibles and potables that we turn into blood 
 and bone — the matter that we metamorphose into mind. 
 " Sir," said Bentley to one of his pupils, who had a predilec- 
 tion for malt liquor, " if you drink ale you will think ale ; " 
 and there was more truth in the averment than might at first 
 sight be imagined, for body and mind must assimilate, to a 
 certain extent, with that which sustains them. Look at the 
 difference of disposition between the carnivorous and graminiv- 
 orous animals : the latter, who seem to be nature's unweaned 
 favorites, are peaceful as the bosom upon which they browse ; 
 the former, doomed to be constantly tearing one another, and 
 to live by blood and slaughter, are constitutionally savage and 
 ferocious. Varieties of temperament in animals will often be 
 found to have reference to the different food in which each 
 race delights, and it is by no means improbable that the national 
 character of human societies may be modified by their favorite 
 diet. The taste of each, taking that word in its most extended 
 acceptation, may be traceable to the palate. The suppleness 
 and levity of the Italian may be derived from macaroni and 
 vermicelli ; Dutch phlegm and obstinacy, from flat-fish, water- 
 zootje, and schiedam ; German acerbity, mysticism, and melan- 
 choly, from sour-krout, sausages, and vin de grave ; the insub- 
 ordination of the Irish peelers and repealers, from potatoes ; 
 French levity and vivacity, from ragouts and champagne ; and 
 the solid but somewhat crude and uncivilized character of 
 John Bull, from his feeding upon huge joints of underdone 
 beef. 
 
 DILEMMA — for the doctors. — Complaint having lately been 
 made in a Yorkshire hospital, that an old Hibernian would not 
 submit to the prescribed remedies, one of the committee pro- 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 87 
 
 ceeded to expostulate with him, when he defended himself by 
 exclaiming — " Sure, your honor, wasn't it a blister they wanted 
 to put upon my back ? and I only tould 'em it was althegither im- 
 possible, for I've such a mighty dislike to them blisters, that put 
 'em where you will, they are sure to go agin my stomach." 
 
 DILEMMA — Logical — a verbal checkmate. Aristotle 
 wishing to refute the opinion of Protagoras, who maintained 
 that there was nothing true in the world, argued thus : — " Your 
 proposition is either true or false : if it is false, we are not, of 
 course, bound to believe it ; if it is true, there is such a thing as 
 truth in the world, and consequently your proposition is false." 
 These clinches were once in great favor with the sophists and 
 logicians, but they were never worth the pains bestowed upon 
 them, and have deservedly fallen into oblivion. The puzzling 
 instance given in Johnson's Dictionary under the word Dilem- 
 ma, is recorded by Apuleius, as well as by Aulus Gellius in his 
 Attic Nights. Our special pleading is the last remnant of 
 these verbal quibbles, and the sooner it is exploded the better. 
 The age of words is passing away, as well as the impostures 
 and delusions to which they gave a species of sanction. 
 
 In exploding these verbal frauds it should be well under- 
 stood that they may be still practised, if we can -reduce the 
 great enemy of mankind to a non plus, in imitation of the wily 
 friar, who sold his soul to him upon condition that all his debts 
 should be paid. Money was supplied in abundance, until he 
 was extricated from his difficulties ; but when Satan came to 
 claim the soul that was due to him, the friar answered, " Be- 
 gone, thou swindler ! If I owe thee any thing, I am not yet 
 out of debt, and if I do not owe thee any thing, why dost thou 
 trouble me ? " 
 
 Shrewd and quickwitted was the reply of the miser, who 
 on being requested by a dervish to grant him a favor, said, 
 " On one condition I will do whatever you require." — " What 
 is that ? " — u Never to ask me for any thing." 
 
 DINNER — A meal taken at supper time ; formerly con- 
 sidered a means of enjoying society, and therefore moderate in 
 
88 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 expense and frequent in occurrence ; now given to display 
 yourself, not to gratify your friends ; and inhospitably rare, 
 because it is foolishly extravagant. 
 
 John Bulwer, a quaint writer of the seventeenth century, 
 especially recommends the following three dinner rules : — 
 Stridor dentium — Altum silentium — Rumor gentium; which 
 has been humorously translated, " Work for the jaws — A silent 
 pause — Frequent Ha-has ! " 
 
 Properly understood and used, an excellent and well- 
 arranged dinner is the culminating point of all civilization. It 
 is not only the descending morsel, and the enveloping sauce — 
 but the rank, wealth, wit, and beauty which surround the 
 meats — the learned management of light and heat — the silent 
 and rapid services of the attendants — the smiling and sedulous 
 host, proffering guests and relishes — the exotic bottles — the 
 embossed plate — the pleasant remarks — the handsome dresses 
 — the cunning artifices in fruit and farina ! The hour of dinner, 
 in short, includes every thing of sensual and intellectual grati- 
 fication which a great nation glories in producing. 
 
 DISCIPLINE — Military — That subordination which is 
 maintained upon the continent by the hope of distinction, in 
 England by the fear of the cat-o'-nine-tails. Nothing is so 
 reluctantly abandoned by despots, whether kings, pedagogues, 
 officers, or magistrates, as any oppressive cruelty which they 
 imagine to be connected with the maintenance of their author- 
 ity. A tyrant not only gratifies his malignity, but saves all 
 trouble of argument or proper management, by the use of the 
 whip, which may account for the disgraceful floggings still so 
 prevalent in our schools, army, and navy. This remnant of a 
 barbarous age must soon pass away, and if our flogging disci- 
 plinarians would pass away at the same time, we should all be 
 gainers by their loss. The cat-o'-nine-tails must have as many 
 lives as tails, or it never could have lasted so long. 
 
 DISCONTENT — Being unhappy at the non-possession of 
 that, of which the possession would not make us happy. "Whence 
 comes it that most men are satisfied with their country, to 
 
THE UN" TRUMPET. 89 
 
 whatever sufferings its climate may expose them, while few or 
 none are satisfied with their lot ? In the former instance, a 
 man is on a par with his neighbors ; in the latter, the mass 
 being necessarily inferior to the few, pride makes them imagine 
 that they are all too low, because they are not all at the top. 
 
 To those who repine at the humbleness of their lot, without 
 knowing to what eventual distinctions they may be destined, 
 we recommend a perusal of the apologue with which Addison 
 concludes one of his moral essays. A drop of water falling 
 from the clouds into the ocean, became discontented with its 
 insignificance, and complained that in the loss of its identity, 
 it was in fact annihilated. In the midst of these murmurs, it 
 was swallowed by an oyster, became converted, in process of 
 time, into a gem, and finally constituted that celebrated pearl 
 which adorns the top of the Persian diadem. 
 
 DISCOVERER— That man is not the discoverer of any art 
 who first says the thing ; but he who first says it so long, and 
 so loud, and so clearly, that he compels mankind to hear him — 
 the man who is so deeply impressed with the importance of the 
 discovery that he will take no denial, but at the risk of fortune 
 and fame, pushes through all opposition, and is determined 
 that what he thinks he has discovered shall not perish for want 
 of a fair trial. Other persons had noticed the effect of coal gas 
 in producing light ; but Winsor worried the town with bad 
 English for three winters before he could attract any serious 
 attention to his views. Many persons broke stone before 
 Macadam, but Macadam felt the discovery more strongly, stated 
 it more clearly, persevered in it with greater tenacity, wielded 
 his hammer, in short, with greater force than other men, and 
 finally succeeded in bringing his plan into general use. 
 
 DISCOVERY— differs from invention. The former may 
 be accidental, and only makes known that which had previously 
 existed ; the latter implies creation, or, at least, a new combi- 
 nation of old materials. 
 
 To surrender the fair honor of any discovery, by naming it 
 after the reigning monarch, is an absurd act of sycophancy, 
 
90 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 which the world has too much good sense to confirm. No 
 family ever deserved better of literature and science than the 
 Medici ; and yet the name of the Medicean stars, assigned by 
 Galileo to the satellites of Jupiter, never travelled beyond the 
 confines of Tuscany, and was quickly dropped even in that 
 country. At a later date, when the planet Ceres was discovered 
 by Piazzi, it received the royal cognomen of Ferdinandea, an 
 addition never recognized by Europe, and now forgotten 
 everywhere. Botanists have very properly bestowed their 
 own names, or those of their friends, upon the new or exotic 
 plants which they have discovered or imported ; nor is it easy 
 to conceive a more pleasing immortality than to descend to 
 posterity, enshrined in the petals of a flower, like Hyacinthus, 
 or the supposed child-deity of India. Sir Anthony Ashley, 
 who first planted them in England, has a cabbage sculptured 
 at his feet upon his monument ; a much more honorable trophy 
 than all the herald's mummery, or the emblems of military 
 prowess. A potato plant would have afforded the noblest 
 crest for Sir Walter Ealeigh, were it not deemed more honor- 
 able to destroy our fellow-creatures in war, than to minister 
 to their gratification and support in peace. 
 
 DISEASE — a new and fatal one. During the prevalence 
 of the cholera in Ireland, a soldier hurrying into the mess-room, 
 told his commanding officer that his brother had been carried 
 off two days ago by a fatal malady, expressing his apprehen- 
 sions that the whole regiment would be exposed to a similar 
 danger in the course of the following week. " Good heavens ! " ■ 
 ejaculated the officer, "what then did he die of?" "Why, 
 your honor, he died of a Tuesday." 
 
 DISTINCTION— with a difference. " I have no objection," 
 said a leveller, " that the ranks below me should be preserved 
 just as they are now, but I wish to have none above me ; and 
 that is my notion of a fair and perfect equality." 
 
 An instance of the distinction without a difference was 
 offered by the Irishman who, having legs of different sizes, 
 ordered his boots to be made accordingly. His directions were 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 91 
 
 obeyed ; but, as he tried the smallest boot on bis largest leg, 
 he exclaimed petulantly, " Confound the fellow ! I ordered him 
 to make one larger than the other ; and, instead of that, he has 
 made one smaller than the other." 
 
 DISTINCTION'S— It is idle to talk of the abolition of dis- 
 tinctions, for Nature herself has created them. A great and 
 happy change, however, is taking place in our estimate of these 
 honors. Every day adds to our reverence of intrinsic, and 
 diminishes our respect for extrinsic superiority. Patents of no- 
 bility, signed by the hand of God, are rising in general esteem, 
 while those merely signed by the hand of a king are declining. 
 Hereditary distinctions, whether of an exalting or degrading 
 aspect, generally deteriorate their objects. It was once ques- 
 tioned, whether a villein, or serf, could enter heaven, and the 
 very doubt rendered him unfit for it, just as the certainty of 
 succeeding to honors often disqualifies their inheritor from 
 wearing them becomingly. 
 
 DISTRESS — even when positive or superlative, is still 
 only comparative. " Such is the pressure of the times in our 
 town," said a Birmingham manufacturer to his agent in Lon- 
 don, " that we have good workmen who will get up, the inside 
 of a watch for eighteen shillings." — "Pooh! that is nothing, 
 compared to London," replied his friend ; " we have boys here 
 who will get up the inside of a chimney for sixpence ! " 
 
 DRAM — A small quantity taken in large quantities by 
 those who have few grains of sobriety, and no scruples of con- 
 science. Horace Walpole records, that when one of his con- 
 temporaries died, in consequence, as it was currently said, of 
 an over-addiction to brandy, the escutcheon affixed to the 
 house of the deceased exhibited the common motto of " Mors 
 janua mtm ;" upon which a wag observed — " Surely there has 
 been a mistake in this inscription : it should have been ' Mors 
 aqua vitcsS " 
 
 DRAMA — Modeeist — Every sort of drama, except tragedy 
 and comedy ; such as melo-drama, hippo-drama, &c. 
 
92 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 DREAMS — The invisible visions to which we are awake 
 in our sleep ; the life of death ; the sights seen by the blind ; 
 the sounds heard by the deaf; the language of the dumb; the 
 sensations of the insensible ; a mystery which may afford us 
 some vague notion of the undeveloped powers of the human 
 mind, waiting, perhaps, the longer sleep of death, before they 
 receive a full expansion. Objects thus presented to us can 
 only be a wild combination, we are told, of those with which 
 we have been previously conversant ; but in these revelations, 
 there seems to be an occasional apocalypse of another world, 
 or, at least, a different state of being from our present existence. 
 "What are the prevalent dreams of persons born blind ? This 
 subject has not excited inquiry, but it seems of a nature to de- 
 serve it, as it might lead to some very curious results. Are 
 forms or figures presented to them, either animate or inani- 
 mate, and if so, do they bear any resemblance to their origi- 
 nals ? Every thing thus flitting before the mind's eye must be 
 a creation, not a recollection, to him who can only have gath- 
 ered vague notions of form from the touch, and can have no 
 idea of color. The dreams of maniacs, could they be detailed, 
 would supply matter for not less interesting speculation. We 
 may imagine them to embody forth all that is gorgeous, mag- 
 nificent, rapturous, and paradisiacal; or to evoke the most 
 hideous and terrific phantasmagoria, according to the different 
 moods of their madness. Somnambulism, which may be termed 
 an intermediate affection -between dreaming and insanity, 
 would also present many mental diagnostics, of the most curious 
 character, could we " observingly distil them out." 
 
 It has been asserted by medical writers, who have attentive- 
 ly considered the subject, that our senses and organs sink to 
 sleep in the following succession: — 1st, the sense of sight ; 2d, 
 the taste; 3d, the smell; 4th, the hearing; 5th, the touch. 
 The powers of the mind may, in the mean time, be inert, active 
 or deranged, according to circumstances ; but they are never 
 altogether coherent. The two principal theories of dreams 
 suppose them to originate wholly in direct impressions on the 
 senses during sleep ; or to be ascribable to the supremacy of the 
 mind, which, being unfettered by objects of sense, takes a wider 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 93 
 
 range. According to this latter supposition, how inconceivably 
 eccentric and illimitable may be its flight, when it is released 
 from its earthy tegument, and revels in the boundless wilds 
 of imagination, as a liberated balloon soars into the invisible 
 empyreum ! 
 
 To illustrate total absence of judgment in all these phan- 
 tasms, Dr. Johnson used to relate the following dream. He 
 imagined himself to be engaged in a contest of wit, before a 
 large literary party, with an adversary whose superior talents 
 compelled him to retreat, filled with shame and mortification. 
 "Had my judgment," argued the Doctor, "been as clear and 
 active as my other mental powers, I should have recollected that 
 my own head had furnished all the repartees of my supposed 
 antagonist, and that I could not fail to be the victor, however 
 the battle might terminate." 
 
 An exceedingly corpulent man, who had suffered much 
 from the intense heat of summer, dreamt, one sultry night, 
 that for the sake of cooling himself, he got out of his flesh, and 
 sat in his skeleton, suffering the air to blow through his ribs ; 
 a mode of refrigeration which he found so delicious, that on 
 awaking he could almost have cried, like Caliban, to fall asleep 
 again. 
 
 DRESS — External gentility, frequently used to disguise in- 
 ternal vulgarity. "Wise men will neither be the first to adopt 
 a new fashion, nor the last to abandon an old one ; for an 
 affectation of singularity is only the desire to set, instead of 
 following, the mode. Eccentricity of appearance is the con- 
 temptible ambition of being personally known to those who do 
 not know you by name. We may hold it slavish to dress ac- 
 cording to the judgment of fools, and the caprice of coxcombs ; 
 but are not we ourselves ioth, when we are singular in our 
 attire ? Mean, indeed, though, doubtless, very just, must be 
 the self-opinion of that man who can only hope to achieve 
 distinction by the cut of his garments. The proverb tells us, 
 to cut our coat according to our cloth ; but we are nowhere 
 enjoined to cut out a character by a coat. 
 
 Malvezzi says — " i vestimenti negli anirnali sono rnolto se- 
 
94 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 curi segni delta loro natura ; negli uomini del lor cervello." 
 This may be illustrated by rags as well as finery. Socrates 
 told Antisthenes, who affected shabbiness, that he saw his 
 pride through the holes in his coat ; and the gay attire of the 
 coxcomb only serves to prove the more clearly that he is "a 
 leaden rapier in a golden sheath " — a cork leg in a silken 
 stocking. 
 
 DKUNKENKESS— A beastly, detestable, and often pun- 
 ished vice, in the ignorant lower orders, whose ebriety is thrust 
 upon the public eye as they reel along the streets, — but softened 
 into "a glass too much," or being "a little elevated," when a 
 well-educated gentleman is driven home in his own carriage, 
 in a state of insensibility, and put to bed by his own servants. 
 
 Droll, though not very logical or conclusive, was the reply 
 of the tipsy Irishman, who, as he supported himself by the iron 
 railings of Merrion-square, was advised by a passenger to be- 
 take himself home. " Ah, now, be aisy ; I live in the square ; 
 isn't it going round and round, and when I see my own door 
 come up, won't I pop into it in a jiffey ?" 
 
 DUELS — Bevenging yourself upon one who has injured 
 you, by giving him a chance to take your life. Oftentimes, 
 too, the injury is as fanciful as the so-called satisfaction is sil- 
 ly. The occasions of duels are as various as the follies of the 
 human head. 
 
 In the eleventh century, two knights, clad in complete ar- 
 mor, fought on horseback to determine . the proper form of 
 public worship. The great founder of the Company of Jesus, 
 Ignatius Loyola, fought a duel with a Moor whom he had 
 vainly attempted to convert by argument. Barrington re- 
 cords a laughable duel fought by a Mr. Frank Shelton with an 
 exciseman, for running the butt end of a horsewhip down his 
 throat the night before, while he lay drunk and sleeping with his 
 mouth open. He notes that, during the preliminary negotia- 
 tions, the exciseman insisted that snoring at a dinner-table was 
 a personal offence to every gentleman in company, and re- 
 fused to apologize, 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 95 
 
 The duello was once a very prevalent and favorite mode of 
 administering justice in Ireland ; and not being considered so 
 brutal as bull-fights, or other beastly amusements of that na- 
 ture, it was authorized by law, and frequently performed be- 
 fore the high authorities and their ladies ; bishops, judges, and 
 other persons high in office generally honoring the spectacle 
 with their presence. Thus an old chronicler relates, how two 
 Irish gentlemen, Connor MacOormac O'Connor, and Teige 
 MacKilpatrick O'Connor, fought with broadswords and skeans 
 (large knives) in the Castle of Dublin, in the presence of the 
 archbishop and all the chief authorities and ladies of rank. 
 They had hewed at each other for a full hour, when Mr. Mac- 
 Kilpatrick O'Connor happening to miss his footing, Mr. Cor- 
 mac O'Connor began to cut his head off very expertly with a 
 knife ; which, after a good deal of cutting, struggling, and 
 hacking, he was at length so fortunate as to effect ; and hav- 
 ing got his head clear off the shoulders, he handed it to the 
 lords-justices, (who were present,) and by whom the head and 
 neck were most graciously received. 
 
 DUELLING — how to avoid. This desirable immunity 
 may be accomplished by a pleasanter method than by plagiar- 
 izing Mr. O'Connell's oath, — videlicet, by falling in love, when 
 you may decline a challenge after the following fashion of one 
 of our old amatory poets — 
 
 '"Tis not the fear of death or smart, 
 Makes me averse to fight, 
 But to preserve a tender heart, 
 Not mine but Celia's right. 
 
 " Then let your fury be supprest, 
 Not me, but Celia, spare, 
 Your sword is welcome to my breast, 
 When Celia is not there." 
 
 DUELLIST — A moral coward, seeking to hide the pusil- 
 lanimity of his mind, by affecting a corporeal courage. In- 
 stead of discharging a pistol, the resort of bullies and bravoes, 
 the really brave soul will dare to discharge its duty to God 
 
96 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 and man, by refusing to break the laws of both. He is the 
 true hero who can exclaim in the language of a French writer, 
 " Je crains Dieu, cher Abner, et je rCai cPautre crainte" — " I 
 fear God, my dear Abner, but I have no other fear." 
 
 DULNESS — Do not see the present work. "I cannot 
 exactly perceive the scope of your argument, and therefore 
 I cannot adopt your opinion," said a gentleman with whom 
 Dr. Parr had been arguing. " Then, sir," said the doctor, "I 
 can only say that you have the dulness of lead without its 
 
 malleability." Serjeant K having made two or three 
 
 mistakes, while conducting a cause, petulantly exclaimed, " I 
 seem to be inoculated with dulness to-day." "Inoculated, 
 brother? " said Erskine, "I thought you had it in the natural 
 
 DUMBFOUNDER — A verbal checkmate which incapaci- 
 tates your adversary from making another move of his jaws. 
 " I do not write for fools," said a boastful and asinine pretend- 
 er to literature : " I only wish to please those who have 
 the same taste as myself, and to do this, every leaf that I pro- 
 duce must be full of point. Such being my feelings, what 
 would you have me give to the world ? " " Thistles ! " re- 
 plied a wag. 
 
 Dr. Parr was celebrated for the unsparing severity with 
 which he could deal out his dumbfounders, when the occasion 
 justified their infliction. A flippant chatterer, after having 
 spoken slightingly of the miracles, exclaimed, " Well but, 
 Doctor, what think you of the mark of the cross upon the 
 ass's back, which they say indicates the precise spot where 
 the animal was smitten by Balaam?" — "Why, sir," replied 
 the Doctor, " I say that if you had a little more of the cross, 
 and a good deal less of the ass, -it would be much better for 
 you." Upon another occasion, a shallow smatterer tauntingly 
 asked him why he did not write a book : — " Sir, I know a 
 method by which I might soon write a very large one." 
 " Ay, Doctor ! how so ? " " Why, sir, by putting in all that I 
 know, and all that you do not know." 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 97 
 
 DUTY — Financially a tax which we pay to the public ex- 
 cise and customs ; morally, that which we are very apt to 
 excise in our private customs. " Les hommes" says Voltaire, 
 " se piquent toujours de remplir un devoir qui les distingue.'' 1 
 If singularity be a distinction, they might easily attain it by a 
 conscientious discharge of religious and moral duty. 
 
 DUTY — Paeental — Sometimes consists in making our 
 children a stalking-horse for our own failings and vices." Of 
 all the virtuous disguises which self-love is made to assume, 
 the most accommodating, the most sanctimonious, the most de- 
 mure-looking, is the mask which gives to us the appearance of 
 loving others. 
 
 The avaricious man, the gambling speculator, the fraudulent 
 dealer have all the same plausible excuse ; they are making 
 fortunes for their children, which, however, they never give to 
 them, when acquired, until the hand of death wrenches the 
 booty from their grasp. It is remarkable too, that many of the 
 loving fathers who boast what great things they are thus doing 
 for their offspring, are the last to do small things for them, re- 
 fusing them the most trivial indulgence, ruling them with a 
 rod of iron, and making them at one time the stalking-horse, 
 and at another the scape-goat of their own humors and pro- 
 pensities. Oh ! how pleasant is it when the affectionate parent 
 can in this manner throw a garb of goodness over his evil pas- 
 sions, and sin with a safe conscience ! 
 
 DYSPEPSIA— 
 
 Ah, me ! what mischiefs from the stomach rise ! 
 
 What fatal ills, beyond all doubt or question ! 
 How many a deed of high and bold emprise 
 
 Hath been prevented by a bad digestion ! 
 I ween the savory crust of filthy pies 
 
 Hath made full many a man to quake and tremble, 
 Filling his belly with dyspeptic sighs, 
 
 Until a huge balloon it doth resemble. 
 Thus do our lower parts impede the upper, 
 
 And much the brain's good works molest and hinder ; 
 We gorge our cerebellum with hot supper, 
 
 And burn, with drams, our viscera to a cinder, 
 Choosing our arrows from Disease's quiver, 
 
 Till man in misery lives to loathe his liver. 
 
 5 
 
98 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 EAE — Pleasures op the — The most spiritual of all enjoy- 
 ments, the least sensual of the senses. Where can its sensi- 
 bilities be so well cultivated, and impart such a hallowing 
 character to delight, as amid the various and exquisite harmo- 
 nies of nature, the vocal fields, the rustling woods, the deep- 
 mouthed and sonorous sea ? Let each of these pleasant sounds, 
 as it falls upon the drum of the ear, be as a reveille, calling 
 upon our thoughts to arise, and be wafted heavenward upon 
 the syrnphonious air. These are the feelings that make all 
 music sacred. No wonder that the deaf are often morose and 
 dejected, while the blind, shut out as they are from the world, 
 almost invariably draw in cheerfulness through the ear. 
 
 EATING AND DKINKING— Supplying the lamp of life 
 with cotton and oil. "The proverb's somewhat musty," but it 
 cannot be too often repeated that we should " eat to live, not 
 live to eat," for if we make the stomach a cemetery of food, 
 the body will soon become the sepulchre of the soul. 
 
 " Pone guise metas, ut sit tibi longior setas," 
 
 whether in this world or the next : for to make a god of your 
 belly, is to sell yourself to the devil. 
 
 One half of mankind pass their lives in thinking how they 
 shall get a dinner, and the other in thinking what dinner they 
 shall get ; and the first are much less injured by occasional 
 fasts, than are the latter by constant feasts. 
 
 ECHO — The shadow of a sound — a voice without a mouth, 
 and words without a tongue. Echo, though represented as a 
 female, never speaks till she is spoken to, and at every repe- 
 tition of what she has heard, continues to make it less, an ex- 
 ample recommended to the special imitation of chatterboxes 
 and scandal-mongers. 
 
 EDUCATION — The best rules to form a young man are, 
 to talk little, to hear much, to reflect alone upon what has 
 passed in company, to distrust one's own opinions, and value 
 others that deserve it. 
 
THE TIN TEUMPET. 99 
 
 EFFECTS— do not always result from causes, as many a 
 lawyer, ^vhose bill remains unpaid, knows to his cost. A suitor 
 for the hand of a young lady at Harrowgate, had been repeat- 
 edly warned that she was of a violent and ungovernable tem- 
 per, but persisted in attributing the information to envy or 
 mistake. " At length," said the lover, relating his mishap to 
 a friend, " I got into an argument with my dear Maria about a 
 mere trifle, when she so far forgot herself, in a moment of pas- 
 sion, as to throw a cup of tea in my face." " And what was 
 the effect ? " inquired his auditor. " Oh ! that completely open- 
 ed my eyes ! " 
 
 "I was rather hot at the moment," said a man when asked 
 how he came to commit an assault, " and so I struck the fel- 
 low." Here was an instance of an effect before a cause. Per- 
 cussion generally produces heat, but in this case the heat pro- 
 duced the percussion. 
 
 EFFEMINACY — Wearing moral petticoats. A masculine 
 woman is much more endurable than an effeminate man ; for, 
 though both are abandoning their proper sphere, the former 
 seeks to rise above, the latter to sink beneath it. There is an 
 ambition about the one, which, though it may be offensive, 
 does not move our scorn ; whereas there is a pitiful meanness 
 in the other, which always renders it contemptible. 
 
 Even among our senators, we have ringleted effeminates, 
 whom Nature, evidently designing them for barbers, supplied 
 with ready-made blocks, giving them, at the same time, the 
 tonsorial loquacity that enables them to speak to every thing — • 
 except the point, and to cut every thing — except a joke. Let 
 them wield the comb, and leave the making of laws to others ; 
 let them braid their hair, and cease to upbraid reformers ; let 
 them abstain from Congress, over the doors of which should 
 be inscribed the words of Ovid — 
 
 "Sint procul a nobis juvenes lit fsemina compti." 
 
 Let them perpend the following passage of Seneca — " Horum 
 quis es% qui non malit rempublicam turbari, quam comam 
 suam ? qui non sollicitior sit de capitis sui decore, quam de sa- 
 
100 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 lute generis Tiumani f " — " Whicb of tliese effeminates -would 
 not rather see the State thrown into disorder than Jhis hair ? 
 Which of them is not more anxious about the becoming ar- 
 rangement of his curls, than the welfare of the whole human 
 race?" 
 
 EGOTISM — Suffering the private I to be too much in the 
 public eye. We are offended at the arrogance of Cardinal 
 "Wolsey's ego et rex meus; but there is a species of egotism so 
 dignified and noble, that in the elevation which it gives to oui 
 common nature, we lose all sense of individual presumption. 
 Such is the character of the following passage from Milton : 
 
 "Tor the world, I count it not as an inn but a hospital; 
 and a place not to live but to die in. The world that I regard 
 is myself. It is mine own frame that I cast mine eye on ; for 
 the other, I use it but like my globe, and turn it round some- 
 times for my recreation. Men that look upon my outside, pe- 
 rusing only my condition and fortunes, do err in my altitude, 
 for I am above Atlas his shoulders. The earth is a point, not 
 only in respect of the heavens above us, but of that heavenly 
 and celestial part within us. That mass of flesh that circum- 
 scribes me, limits not my mind. That surface that tells the 
 heavens they have an end, cannot persuade me I have any. 
 I take my circle to be.above three hundred and sixty. Though 
 the number of the arc do measure my body, it comprehendeth 
 not my mind : whilst I study to find how I am a microcosm, 
 or little world, I find myself something more than the great. 
 There is surely a piece of divinity to us — something that was 
 before the elements, and owing no homage unto the sun. He 
 that understands not this much, hath not his introductions or 
 first lesson, and is yet to begin the alphabet of man." 
 
 ELEVATION" — of station, is very often accompanied with 
 depression of spirits. Success disappoints us; we feel our- 
 selves out of our sphere, and sigh for the lost happiness of our 
 humbler days. "You see how languid the carp are," said 
 Madame de Maintenon to her friend, when looking into a marble 
 fish-pond at Marly: "they are like me — they regret their 
 mud" 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 101 
 
 ELOPEMENT — Beginning in disobedience that which 
 generally terminates in misery. 
 
 ELOQUENCE — consists in the exuberance of beautiful 
 images — in simple and sublime conceptions — in passionate but 
 plain words ; not in a studious arrangement of sonorous, ex- 
 otic, and sesquipedal phrases. 
 
 EMBALMING — Making a flesh statue — eternalizing a 
 corpse — perpetuating the perishable with more pains than we 
 take to save that which is immortal. 
 
 ENDOWMENTS— Chtteoh— See Poison; but do not see 
 the Bible. An old tradition bears, that when Constantine, 
 the Emperor, first endowed the Church, a voice was heard 
 from heaven, crying out, "This day is poison poured into 
 her ? " Whatever may be thought of the tradition, no one 
 can doubt the fulfilment of the prophecy. 
 
 Wherever Eeligion has been the mother of Wealth, the 
 daughter has invariaby devoured the parent. 
 
 ENNUI — A French word for an English malady, which 
 generally arises from the want of a want, and constitutes the 
 complaint of those who have nothing to complain of. By the 
 equalizing provisions of nature, the rich, idle, and luxurious, 
 are thus brought down to the level of their seeming inferiors, 
 and made to envy those who envy them. When this ugly 
 Goliath haunts the mind, he is only to be subdued by exertion 
 and occupation. — " Throw but a stone, the giant dies." Au- 
 thors have too much to do with printers' devils, to be annoyed 
 with blue devils. They may inflict, but they seldom suffer 
 ennui. No exorcism for the spleen and the vapors like that 
 of the Muse. When Bellerophon went forth to conquer the 
 Chimsera he mounted Pegasus. 
 
 ENTHUSIASM— That effervescence of the heart, or the 
 imagination, which is the most potent stimulus of our nature, 
 where it stops short of mental intoxication. " Conscience," 
 
102 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 says Madame de Stael, " is, doubtless, sufficient to conduct the 
 coldest character into the road of virtue ; but enthusiasm is to 
 conscience what honor is to duty : there is in us a superfluity 
 of soul, which it is sweet to consecrate to the beautiful, 
 when the good has been accomplished. Our genius and our 
 imagination require to be gratified in this world ; and the law 
 of duty, however sublime it may be, is not sufficient to make 
 us taste all the wonders of the heart and the head." 
 
 Many years ago, at Florence, the loiterers in the Tribune 
 were startled by the sudden rush into the room of a little 
 man, whose literary fame gave him high claims to intuitive 
 taste. He placed himself, with clasped hands, before the chief 
 attraction in that room of treasures, and, "There," he mur- 
 mured, " is the Yenus de Medici, and here I must stay — for- 
 ever and ever ! " He had scarcely uttered these words, each 
 more deeply and solemnly than the preceding, when an ac- 
 quaintance entered, and the enthusiast, making a hasty inquiry 
 
 if Lady had arrived, left the room, not to return again 
 
 that morning. Before the same statue, another distinguished 
 countryman, whose reputation for taste was better founded, 
 and whose sensibility old age had not humbled, used to pass 
 an hour daily. His acquaintance respected his raptures, and 
 kept aloof ; but a young lady, whose attention was attracted 
 by sounds that did not seem expressive of admiration, ventured 
 to approach, and found the poet sunk in profound but not 
 silent slumber. 
 
 ENVY — Punishing ourselves for being inferior to our 
 neighbors. If, instead of looking at what our superiors pos- 
 sess, we could see what they actually enjoy, there would be 
 much less envy, and more pity, in the world. 
 
 " The envious man," says St. Gregory, " is made unhappy, 
 not by his own misfortunes, but by the successes of others ; 
 and, on the other hand, he does not enjoy his own good for- 
 tune so much as the misfortunes of his neighbors." — " Invidus 
 non suis malis, sed alienis bonis infelix est; et contrd, non 
 suo bono sed malis proximis felix." Our affected contempt of 
 greatness is only an envious attempt to lift ourselves above 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 103 
 
 the great, and thus achieve an imaginary superiority. M Since 
 we cannot attain grandeur," says Montaigne,." let us take our 
 revenge by abusing it." 
 
 The envy that grudges the successes for which it would 
 want the courage to contend, was well rebuked by the French 
 Marshal Lefevre. One of his friends, expressing the most un- 
 bounded admiration of his magnificent hotel, and exquisite 
 cuisine, exclaimed, at the end of every phrase, " How fortunate 
 you are ! " — " I see you envy me," said the marshal ; " but come, 
 you shall have all that I possess at a much cheaper rate than 
 I myself paid for it ; step down with me into the court-yard, 
 you shall let me fire twenty musket shots at you, at the dis- 
 tance of thirty paces, and if I fail to bring you down, all that 
 I have is yours. "What ! you refuse ! " said the marshal, seeing 
 that his friend demurred. " Know, that before I reached my 
 present eminence, I was obliged to stand more than a thousand 
 musket shots, and sacre ! those who pulled the triggers were 
 nothing like thirty paces from me." 
 
 EPICURE — An epicure has no sinecure ; he is unmade, 
 and eventually dished by made dishes. Champagne falsifies 
 its name, when once it begins to affect his system ; his stom- 
 ach is so deranged in its punctuation, that his colon makes 
 a point of coming to a full stop ; keeping it up late, ends in 
 his being laid down early ; and the oon vivant who has been 
 always hunting pleasure, finds at last, that he has been only 
 whipping and spurring, that he might be the sooner in at his 
 own death ! 
 
 EPITAPHS — Mortuary lies. Giving a good character to 
 parties on their going into a new place, who sometimes had a 
 very bad character in the place they have just left. For the 
 de mortuis nil nisi oonum, it would be an improvement to 
 substitute nil nisi verum ; since the fear of posthumous disre- 
 pute would be an additional incentive to living good conduct. 
 No man could pass through a truth-telling church-yard, with- 
 out feeling the full value of character. 
 
 What can more impressively stamp the evanescence of 
 
104 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 man and all his works, than an epitaph on a whole nation, 
 which shall afford nearly the sole evidence of its ever having 
 existed? Such are the cinerary urns of the Etruscans, of 
 whose history we have little other record than their tomhs, 
 and of whose literature few other remains than their alphabet. 
 A whole empire stat nominis umbra ! The signs have sur- 
 vived the ideas of which they were the symbols : the chisel 
 has outlasted the statue. Yolterra, and other great Etruscan 
 cemeteries, may be termed the skeletons of their cities. 
 
 Eew more appropriate epitaphs than the common Latin 
 one of " Sum quod eris, fui quod sis " — " I am what thou 
 shalt be, I was what thou art." 
 
 Beloe, in his anecdotes, gives a good punning epitaph on 
 "William Lawes, the musical composer, who was killed by the 
 Eoundheads. 
 
 " Concord is conquer'd ! In this urn there lies 
 The master of great Music's mysteries ; 
 And in it is a riddle, like the cause, 
 Will Lawes was slain by men whose Wills were Laws.'''' 
 
 More witty than decorous was the epitaph composed in 
 the reign of Henry III., for a Sir John Calfe, who died 
 young,— 
 
 " O Deus omnipotens, Vituli miserere Joannis, 
 Quern mors pneveniens noluit esse bovem." 
 
 Sir Christopher Wren's inscription in St. Paul's Church— 
 " Si monumentum quceris, circumspice " — would be equally 
 applicable to a physician, buried in a churchyard ; both being 
 interred in the midst of their own works. 
 
 In the epitaph of Cardinal Onuphrio at Rome, there 
 breathes a solemn, almost a bitter conviction of the vanity of 
 earthly grandeur — "Hicjacet umbra, cinis — nihil " — " Here lies 
 a shadow, ashes — nothing." There is a great tenderness and 
 beauty in the two lines found upon an ancient Roman tomb, 
 supposed to be addressed by a young wife to her surviving 
 husband : 
 
 "Immaturi peri, sed tu, felicior, annos 
 Vive tuos, conjux optime, vive meos." 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 105 
 
 But a still more simple and affecting epitaph is the follow- 
 ing, translated verbatim from a tomb at Montmartre, near 
 Paris : — " To the memory of M. Jobart, a most excellent hus- 
 band and father. His inconsolable widow still continues to 
 carry on the grocery business in the Eue St. Denis, No. 242, 
 near the Cafe Ohinois." 
 
 EQUAL — That which a man of talent will seldom find 
 among his superiors. As the winds and waters, abrasion and 
 gravitation, are perpetually tending towards a physical equal- 
 ization, by« lowering mountains and filling up valleys ; so, in 
 the moral world, does the progress of social improvement 
 gradually tend to equalize all ranks, by reducing the higher, 
 and elevating the lower — a levelling process, equally con- 
 ducive to the happiness and melioration of both. Civilization 
 is, in fact, a gravitation towards that happy medium which is 
 the centre of attraction to the social circle. Almost every 
 man is a loser by being elevated above the sphere to which 
 he is habituated. When the Duke of Orleans proposed to 
 make Fontenelle perpetual President of the Academy of Sci- 
 ences, his reply was — " Take not from me, my Lord, the 
 delight of living with my equals." 
 
 ERROR, of Calculation — The life of nine-tenths of man- 
 kind is a gross error of calculation, since they attach them- 
 selves to the evanescent, and neglect the permanent, accumu- 
 lating riches in a world from which they are constantly run- 
 ning away, and laying up no treasures in that eternity to 
 which every day, hour, minute, brings them nearer and 
 nearer. 
 
 ESPEIT DE CORPS— is a corporate partiality or preju- 
 dice ; a feeling of clanship and confraternity ; a selfishness at 
 second hand, which induces us to prefer the members of our 
 own club, guild, or coterie, not only to others, but to reason and 
 justice. It prefers Plato to truth, even though Plato be per- 
 sonally unknown, provided he belongs to the same clique. 
 Nationality is but esprit de corps on a large scale, selfishness 
 5* 
 
106 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 spread over the surface of a whole country ; and the propen- 
 sity sometimes exhibits itself in still more extensive divisions. 
 In hunting or baiting wild beasts, there is a strong feeling of 
 humanity, or, rather, of inhumanity, against bestiality. We 
 sympathize with the basest of our own species, rather than 
 with the noblest of the animal race. Among ourselves, there 
 is a sexual esprit de corps, — the men siding with the males, the 
 women with the females ; the single with the single, and the 
 married with the married. Of this latter propensity advan- 
 tage was taken by an unfortunate Irishman, who, being ar- 
 raigned for accidentally killing his wife, contrived,, by object- 
 ing to the bachelors, to procure a jury of married men, when 
 he stated that the deceased, an habitual drunkard, had used 
 the most insulting language at the moment of the fatal occur- 
 rence. This appeal came so completely home to the business 
 and bosoms of his auditors, several of whom had not improb- 
 ably been placed in similar circumstances, that they were 
 presently agreed in their decision, when the foreman coming 
 forward, and addressing himself to the judge, exclaimed, with 
 a voice and look of great energy — " Please, my Lord, our var- 
 dict is — Sarved her right ! " 
 
 ESTATE — a landed one for all! — Terra Firma for my 
 money. Well may it be called real property ; there is none 
 other that deserves the name. What are public securities, as 
 they are impudently termed ? Ask the impoverished bond- 
 holders of the South American States, or of Greece. Neither 
 their new nor old governments, neither despotism nor repub- 
 licanism, can give certain tangibility or visibility to that ghost 
 of defunct money yclept a dividend. What will tithes soon 
 be worth in England ? — what they are now worth in Ireland. 
 In ten years, the claim for tenths will be no more observed 
 than are the ten commandments at present. What is the 
 value of houses ? It is notorious that they are everywhere 
 falling, especially the very old ones ; rents threaten to be all 
 peppercorns ; house owners will not get salt to their porridge, 
 even if they distrain upon their tenants and make quarter day 
 a day without quarter. No — give me land. The man who 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 107 
 
 walks upon his own estate carries himself erect, and plants 
 his foot upon the ground with an air of confidence and conse- 
 quence. 
 
 Perhaps I feel this the more sensibly, because I have not a 
 single acre in possession. Nothing, however, can prevent my 
 succeeding to a small estate which I have lately been inspect- 
 ing. It certainly possesses many advantages, being tithe-free, 
 and the land-tax redeemed. In this snug retreat, which is 
 perfectly sequestered, you are surrounded with wood, and yet 
 close to a populous neighborhood, to the parish church, and 
 the high road. Its proprietor enjoys several privileges and 
 advantages : he pays no taxes, is exempt from serving in the 
 militia, or sitting upon juries, his privacy is undisturbed by 
 the impertinent intrusion of neighbors, he has no cares by 
 day, and he is sure of a sound sleep at night. "When a new 
 occupant . comes to take possession, he usually arrives in a 
 coach and four, with numerous attendants, and he is not only 
 received with bell-ringing, but the clergyman, and a portion 
 of the parishioners, go out to meet him, and escort him home 
 with much ceremony. The house, though it can hardly be 
 called any thing better than a mere country box, has so many 
 recommendations, that there is no instance of an occupant quit- 
 ting it, after he has once given it a fair trial. 
 
 Eeaders ! whether gentle or simple, you need not envy me 
 my expectations. A similar landed estate is entailed upon 
 every one of you, and upon your children's children. If you 
 want a description of it, refer to Blair's poem of — "The 
 Grave." 
 
 One of the Roman emperors wept that nothing could pre- 
 vent the master of the wide world from being finally impris- 
 oned in an urn. I would counsel some of our landed propri- 
 etors — 
 
 "large-acred men, 
 Lords of fat Evesham, and of Lincoln fen " — 
 
 who, in the pride of their possessions, " bestride the narrow 
 earth like a Colossus," to cast their eyes downwards, if look- 
 ing upwards will not teach them humility, and to reflect that 
 their huge estates must inevitablv shrink into six feet by two ! 
 
108 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 ETYMOLOGY — Sending vagrant words back to their own 
 parish. It was said of Menage, that in requiring every word 
 to surrender its passport, he not only inquired whence it came, 
 but whither it was going. 
 
 An ancient grammarian tells us that the Greek word a<», to 
 breathe, consists of alpha and omega, the first and last letters 
 of the alphabet, because, to inspire, and to expire, form the 
 beginning and ending of man's life. This is a fine instance of 
 va-Ttpov nporcpov, or putting the cart before the horse ; the 
 learned philologist having forgotten- that men breathe before 
 they speak, and that languages long preceded the time of Cad- 
 mus and the invention of letters and alphabets. "While upon 
 the subject, I may mention that the word sack is found in all 
 languages, which a profound antiquary has explained, by sug- 
 gesting that it was necessary to leave that primitive word, in 
 order that every man, when he took his departure from the 
 tower of Babel, might ask for his own bag. Titles of dignity, 
 derived from age, seem also to have spread from the same 
 root into a great variety of languages ; our sir, signor, senator, 
 and perhaps seneschal, being identical with the scheik, shah, 
 and aga of the Orientals, and the schachem of the red Indians. 
 Titles inferring superior age do not, however, always com- 
 mand our respect, as, for instance, in the case of our London 
 elder or aldermen. 
 
 Somewhat far-fetched was the conceit of an erudite ety- 
 mologist, who maintained that the term bagpipe was origi- 
 nally a Hebrew word, signifying a larger sort of sackbut, sack 
 and bag being synonymous terms, and a butt being half a pipe. 
 
 Learned philologists are very apt to imitate the ignorant 
 butcher, who spent the whole morning in searching for the 
 knife which he held in his mouth — a wild-goose chase, which 
 has been eminently illustrated in their endless wanderings for 
 the origin of the word danger, when it was difficult to stir a 
 step without stumbling over its real etymology. "We need 
 not go any further back than the siege of Troy to discover it 
 at once. After the capture of that city by the well-known 
 stratagem of the wooden horse, an event with which every 
 Koman became familiar, only twelve hundred years afterwards, 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 109 
 
 through the writings of Virgil, it was customary to exclaim, 
 whenever any fraud or trick was suspected, " Danaos gerit? " 
 — " Are there any Greeks in this pretended horse ?" — mean- 
 ing any cheat or imposture. The phrase was soon proverbial, 
 and with the habitual indolence of the Italians, was eventually 
 contracted into one word, by taking the initial syllable of 
 each ; so that whenever they smelt a rat, as we say in Eng- 
 lish, or anticipated any perils, they exclaimed, interrogatively, 
 " Sanger ?" Is it not almost incredible, that so obvious a deri- 
 vation should have been overlooked by the most acute of our 
 etymologists ? Henceforth let us hear no more of the butcher 
 and his knife. 
 
 In searching for the signification of words, we are not, 
 however, always to take them au pied de la lettre, or we 
 might define a hypocrite to be a judge of horses — a sycophant, 
 as a figseer — a beldam, as a handsome lady — consideration, as 
 a collection of stars — understanding, as a pair of shoes — and 
 sincere, as unwaxed. Into these and similar errors, the en- 
 lightened etymologist is in no fear of falling, for he will ever 
 bear in mind the fundamental rule of his art, viz., to pay little 
 attention to consonants and none to vowels. Why should let- 
 ters obstruct him when he is considering things of such im- 
 portance as words ? 
 
 EXAGGERATION" — Intemperate. Diminishing by addi- 
 tion, as the word small is made smaller by appending two 
 more letters to it. When a man asserts too much, whether 
 in the shape of praise or censure, we take our revenge by fall- 
 ing into an opposite error, and believe too little. The same 
 effect is often produced by that confusion of ideas or terms 
 which is designated a bull. A Radical, inveighing against the 
 rapacity of the clergy, gave it as his decided opinion, that if 
 they had their own way they would raise the tithes from a 
 tenth to a twentieth. On the other hand, an intended dimi- 
 nution, by the same figure of speech, may amount to an exag- 
 geration. " I have just met our old acquaintance Daly," said 
 an Irishman to his friend, " and was sorry to see he has almost 
 shrunk away to nothing. You are thin, and I am thin, but 
 
110 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 lie is thinner than both of us put together." Did the Hiber- 
 nian sailor exaggerate or diminish, when, in describing the 
 weather, he said, " There was but little wind, but what there 
 was, was uncommonly high." 
 
 EXAMPLE — It is much more easy to imitate bad example 
 than good, because it has our natural inclination on its side. 
 Perverse natures find a positive gratification in doing wrong. 
 A man of this stamp, who was remarkably fond of pork, once 
 expressed his regret that he had not been born a Jew, in order 
 that he might enjoy the double pleasure of eating his favorite 
 viand, and sinning at the same time. 
 
 EXCEPTIONS — prove every rule, as we are told, except 
 the rule that " every rule has its exceptions." Nothing can 
 be rendered more exceptionable than an exception, even when 
 accompanied with an invidious eulogy. According to Saville, 
 poets are the best of all authors — except prose writers. 
 
 F , defending a kind-hearted unmarried woman, whose 
 
 character, however, was far from immaculate, exclaimed, " Out 
 of the pale of marriage and celibacy ^ I protest that I do not 
 know a more respectable person." Cases may occur where 
 parties are not to be conciliated, either by their inclusion or 
 exclusion. "How many fools, including yourself, went to 
 the lecture on phrenology ?" demanded a collegian of his com- 
 rade, who, instead of answering the inquiry, took the term 
 applied to him in high dudgeon. " Well, then," resumed his 
 friend, " how many fools were there without reckoning your- 
 self?" 
 
 Under this head we may insert one of the very few jokes 
 attributed to William Pitt. As Lord Warden of the Cinque 
 Ports, he presided at a public meeting held in Dover, during 
 the war, for the purpose of raising a volunteer corps, when 
 the secretary, in drawing up the conditions on which they 
 were to be embodied, said to the chairman, " I suppose, sir, 
 that I am to insert the usual clause — not to serve out of the 
 country." — " Certainly, certainly," smiled Pitt, " except in 
 case of invasion ! " 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. Ill 
 
 Few will be unacquainted with Swift's saving clause, when, 
 in his anxiety to promote the products and manufactures of 
 the Irish, he recommended them to burn every thing that 
 came from England, except her coals. 
 
 EXCULPATION— A satisfactory one. " My good friend ! " 
 exclaimed an enraged author, who had been lampooned and 
 libelled in a review, " I have strong reason to suspect that I 
 
 have received this stab in the dark from that rascal M ." 
 
 — " Make your mind perfectly easy," said his friend ; " M 
 
 is the last man to give you a stab in the dark ; first, because 
 he always held you in light estimation; and, secondly, because 
 I know him to be a fellow who would not stick at any thing." 
 
 Ingenious enough, though, perhaps, not literally true, was 
 the excuse of the day-boarder, who, being asked one morning 
 why he came to school so late, replied that, owing to the hard 
 frost and the slipperiness of the ground, he had taken two 
 steps backwards for one step forwards. " In that case," in- 
 quired the master, " how did you manage to get here at all ? " 
 — " Oh, sir ! I turned about and came the other way." 
 
 EXCUSE — Confessing our faults by attempting to excuse 
 them — Qui s 'excuse s 1 accuse. Good intentions, with which, 
 according to Wesley, hell is paved, are no defence of evil ac- 
 tions. We have all of us pleas and evasions enough not only 
 for leaving undone what we ought to have done, but for doing 
 what we ought not to have done. 
 
 A gentleman, who had just put aside two bottles of capital 
 ale to recreate some friends, discovered, just before dinner, 
 that his servant, a country bumpkin, had emptied them both. 
 " Scoundrel ! " said the master, " what do you mean by this ?" 
 " Why, sir, I saw, plain enough, by the clouds, that it were 
 going to thunder, so I drank up the yale at once, lest it should 
 turn sour, for there's nothing I do abominate like waste." 
 Fuseli, when he failed in any of his serious caricatures, used 
 to complain that nature put him out : and the sluttish house- 
 maid, when scolded for the untidiness of the chambers, ex- 
 claimed, " I'm sure, the rooms would be clean enough, if it 
 
112 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 were not for the nasty sun, which is always showing the dirty 
 corners." 
 
 EXPEDIENTS — Kemedies for half our pains and sorrows, 
 did we but know how to find and to apply them. There must 
 certainly be a charm in enacting the part of Jaques — in having 
 " a cue for villanous melancholy," and a " sigh like Tom 
 o'Bedlam." "Whether it be that our self-love is gratified by 
 exciting sympathy, or our vanity by being made the subject of 
 conversation, it is unquestionable that we cling to our little 
 ills and ailments as if they conferred a sort of distinction. 
 Never could I entirely agree with the pensive poet when he 
 exclaims — 
 
 " Go ! you may call it madness, folly, 
 You shall not chase my griefs away, 
 There's such a charm in melancholy, 
 I would not if I could be gay." 
 
 But I can accord with the French writer, who affirms, that 
 a woman always finds her physician and confessor the most 
 delightful companions in the world, because she is constantly 
 talking to them about herself, her complaints, and her pecca- 
 dilloes. Men are precisely the same in the auricular confes- 
 sions of society, and almost any girl may be sure of winning 
 their affections, provided she be a patient and persevering lis- 
 tener to their aches and annoyances, real or imaginary. This 
 must be the secret reason why we often refuse to avail ourselves 
 of the expedients which would effectually remove all our griev- 
 ances, and which are too palpable to have escaped our notice. 
 A lady, of delicate health, who loved to talk of her rheums 
 
 and rheumatics, complained to S that she rarely went out 
 
 to make purchases without catching cold, because they never 
 
 kept their shop-doors shut. " My dear madam," said S , 
 
 " how easily you might avoid all this ! You should make it 
 a rule never to go a shopping except on Sunday." " You sot 
 of a fellow ! " exclaimed a poor woman -to her husband ; " you 
 are always at the public-house, getting drunk with hot purl ? 
 while I am at home with nothing to drink but cold water." — 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 113 
 
 " Cold, you silly jade ? " hiccoughed her husband, " why don't 
 you warm it?" 
 
 Strange, that neither of the females should have previously 
 hit upon such obvious and satisfactory expedients ! Infinitely 
 quick and apt in expedients, was the manager of a country 
 theatre, who, when requested by a lady of rank in the neigh- 
 borhood, to get up the play of Henry the Eighth, regretted 
 that the state of his company would not allow it ; but added 
 that they could very well manage to perform the two parts 
 of Henry the Fourth, which would come to exactly the same 
 thing. 
 
 EXTEMPORE— A premeditated impromptu. 
 
 EYE-GLASS — A toy which enables a coxcomb to see 
 
 others, and others to see that he is a coxcomb. 
 
 FABLES — Giving human intellects to brutes, in imitation * 
 of nature, who sometimes gives brute intellects to men. 
 
 FACE— The silent echo of the heart. 
 
 FACT — It is a fact that before we begin to think we seem 
 to know every thing ; while when we set about thinking in 
 earnest, we seem to know nothing. 
 
 FALSE POINTS — The author who pays more attention to 
 the manner than the matter of his writings, and excites an 
 expectation by his studied conceits and antitheses, which is 
 not justified by the subject or the sentiment, may be compared 
 to an ill-trained dog, which by stopping to make a false point 
 where there are no birds, only makes game of his master. 
 Punning writers are comical dogs of this sort, who often raise 
 our expectation, but seldom enable us to bring down a thought, 
 or put any thing into our memory-bag. There are dull dogs, 
 on the contrary, who weary you by beating about the bush, 
 and who seem to make a point of never making a point, even 
 though they may be surrounded by numerous coveys of intel- 
 lectual game. The writings of Thomas Carlyle constitute a 
 well-stocked preserve of valuable thoughts, intrenched in such 
 
114 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 a chevaux-de-frise of crooked, crabbed, and impenetrable lan- 
 guage, that nobody can get at them. Some one said of his 
 stile that it was a five-barred gate with spikes at top, and furze 
 bushes on either side. It is not any known tongue, it is 
 Oarlylese, or perhaps a variety of those that sprung up in the 
 hotbed of Mr. Irving's chapel. One cannot defend its obscu- 
 rity, as Balzac did that of Tertullian, by saying that it resem- 
 bles the darkness of polished ebony, which throws a certain 
 splendor around. Through such impediments, few men would 
 think of forcing their way, any more than of breaking their 
 teeth with a hickory nut for the sake of the kernel. 
 
 There are conversational dogs, who by making a dead 
 point, as if they were about to start a don-mot, will induce 
 you to cock your ear and prepare for an explosion of laugh- 
 ter ; after which they leave you miserably in the lurch. Of 
 this a notable instance was afforded by tne late facetious Jack 
 Taylor, who became somewhat forgetful towards the close of 
 his career. " Did I ever tell you," he inquired, " of a famous 
 
 good thing I once said to Du B ? He was alluding to my 
 
 former occupation of an oculist, in which he said it was no 
 wonder I had failed, since a man must have been blind indeed 
 before he would apply to me. — Well, Sir, that was very good ; 
 but I blew him completely to atoms by a retort I made. I 
 can't recollect just now what it was, but you may depend 
 upon it, my dear friend, it was a most capital thing, and made 
 a great laugh at the time ! " 
 
 A man must be reduced to great straits before he can think 
 of living upon the good things he has forgotten. 
 
 FAME — Literary — Being partially known to-day and uni- 
 versally forgotten tO-morrow. To what does this posthumous 
 existence amount ? At most it is but a question of one small 
 link in the circular chain of eternity. He who writes in a 
 modem language, is but the suicide of his own fame, scrib- 
 bling on the sand what the next wave of time will obliterate ; 
 he gets a short respite, not a pardon from oblivion ! Every 
 thing is incessantly passing away, the physical and the moral, 
 the corporeal and the intellectual; — the very elements of 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 115 
 
 nature are subject to decay. Not that this would affect 
 
 as an author, for in his writings there is little or nothing of 
 nature. In one sense they are eternal — " For he who reads 
 them, reads them to no end." Literary fame is more easily 
 caught than kept. If you do nothing you are forgotten, and 
 if you write and fail, your former success is thrown in your 
 teeth. He who has a reputation to maintain has a wild beast 
 in his house, which he must constantly feed, or it will feed 
 upon him. So indifferent was Fontenelle to fame and repu- 
 tation of all sorts, that he is recorded to have said, "If I had 
 a paper in my bureau, the disclosure of which would make 
 my name infamous and detestable for ever, I would not take 
 the trouble to destroy it, provided I could be quite sure that it 
 would never appear in my lifetime." This is pushing indiffer- 
 ence into a heartless misanthropy. "What can a man have 
 cared for others, who cared so little for himself? Shakspeare 
 wrote less than three hundred years ago ; and yet his very 
 existence has been doubted of late. Before the Eeformation, 
 Aristotle's Morals used to be read to the people in some of the 
 churches of Germany, instead of the Scriptures ; his philoso- 
 phy had an exclusive monopoly granted to it by the parlia- 
 ment of Paris, who forbade the use of any other in France ; and 
 the President De Thou informs us, that Paul de Foix, one of 
 the most learned and elegant men of his time, in passing 
 through Ferrara, refused to see the famous Patricius, or to 
 meet him at any third house, because he disbelieved in some 
 of the doctrines of Aristotle. Yet what an agreeable certainty 
 we live in now, as regards the most common particulars con- 
 cerning so famous a man ! Some writers say he was a Jew ; 
 others, that he got all his information from a Jew, that he 
 kept an apothecary's shop, and was an atheist ; others say, 
 on the contrary, that he did not keep an apothecary's shop, 
 and that he was a Trinitarian. Some say he respected the 
 religion of his country ; others that he offered sacrifices to his 
 wife, and made hymns in favor of his father-in-law. Some 
 are of the opinion he was poisoned by the priests ; others are 
 clear that he died of vexation, because he could not discover 
 the causes of the ebb and flow in the Euripus. We now care 
 
115 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 or know so little about Aristotle, that Mr. Fielding, in one of 
 Ms novels, says, " Aristotle is not such a fool as many people 
 believe, who never read a syllable of his works." 
 
 FASHION— A power as invisible and as despotic as the 
 Grand Lama of Thibet. It is said she is a goddess, but no one 
 has ever seen her face, though aU aspire to be acquainted 
 with her Proteus forms. Her mandates, of which the origin 
 is utterly unknown, are nevertheless understood and commu- 
 nicated by some inscrutable instinct, and obeyed with a still 
 more inexplicable and uninquiring submission. The rich and 
 the independent are the most eager to become her abject 
 slaves ; and as spaniels are the most fawning when worst 
 treated, so do her votaries delight in their idol, in proportion 
 as her reign is tyrannical, her fancies capricious, and her 
 tastes preposterous. In the service of this fickle and ungrate- 
 ful despot, who casts off her most faithful followers, unless 
 they will blindly conform to her ever-changing vagaries, the 
 timid and delicate willingly encounter pain, the indolent in- 
 convenience and labor, the parsimonious expense. Many 
 leave the tradesman and the tax-gatherer unpaid, that they 
 may voluntarily tax themselves to supply offerings to this 
 mysterious goddess, who finds her strongest supporters among 
 the weak, her most faithful adherents among the inconstant, 
 her warmest admirers among those who admire nothing but 
 themselves. One would not object to the prevalent notion 
 that whatever is fashionable is right, if our rulers of the mode 
 would contrive that whatever is right should be fashionable. 
 
 FAVORITES— Persons undervalued by the many be- 
 cause they are overvalued by one. Hatred, however, of 
 favorites is only the love of favor. We dislike them, not 
 because they are unworthy of their elevation, but because we 
 ourselves cannot attain it. Even where their demerits may 
 justify our censure, it proceeds from envy rather than an ab- 
 stract sense of rectitude. In like manner the justice which 
 we refuse to great men when living, and willingly concede 
 to them after deatb, does not emanate from our love of their 
 virtues, but from our hatred of those who have succeeded to 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 117 
 
 their high offices. We are not less liberal of our praise when 
 it can do no good, than of our abuse when it can annoy and 
 injure. Tor an exemplification of this double injustice, we 
 may refer to some of our critics. In proportion as they low- 
 ered an author beneath his fair standard while living, they 
 will raise him above it after death, in order to make his sur- 
 vivors look little. Their generosity is all posthumous : they 
 tear the laurels from your head to hang them on your tomb ; 
 they pick your pocket to pay you in post obits ; your winding- 
 sheet is the only one with which they find no fault ; they 
 accelerate your death, and then do their best to make you live. 
 
 " La faveur?' 1 says La Bruyere, "met Vhomme au dessus 
 de ses egaux, et sa chute au dessous." 
 
 Favor places a man above his equals : but his fall from 
 favor puts him below them. 
 
 FEAB — A real evil often created by the anticipation of an 
 imaginary one. As we can but be frightened when the dan- 
 ger arrives, our previous terrors are but so much unnecessary 
 addition to the annoyance. They who are most afraid of a 
 cold, or the cholera, are the most likely to catch them : so it 
 is with many other evils, mental as well as bodily. Like the 
 nettle, they only sting the timid ; grasp them firmly and they 
 are innocuous. Fly from them and they pursue you ; face 
 them and they are gone. " The fear of ill exceeds the ill we 
 fear," and there are circumstances in which men have been 
 known to rush headlong into danger, in order to get rid of the 
 intolerable apprehension of it. This is to be terrified out of 
 terror. — Fear is a prodigious magnifier, especially where it 
 has been excited by any unusual object. No traveller ever 
 saw a small wolf; no landsman ever experienced a gale at 
 sea that did not appear to be a tornado : every thing is compar- 
 ative. Fear, in short, makes us imitate the silly wheatear, 
 who flies into the fowler's snare, in order to avoid the shadow 
 of a passing cloud. There are occasions, however, upon 
 which no man should fear Fear, for it is the most potent of 
 moralists. 
 
 What anchorites — as my punning friend T. H. justly ob- 
 
118 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 serves — we all became in England, when onr stomachs were 
 literally turned by the fear of the cholera. Escnlent vegeta- 
 bles were pronounced uneatable — even the tailors forswore 
 cabbage : people looked black upon green peas, and eschewed 
 with horror the salads they once chewed with pleasure. As 
 to fruits, it was fruitless to put them on the table : the dessert 
 was deserted; every apple was a forbidden one; currants 
 were no longer current ; it was dangerous to pare a pear, and 
 still more so to pine for pine. Some forsook their French 
 wines, and took to port, as the only safe harbor ; others gave 
 up their spirits at the very moment when they most wanted 
 to keep them up ; and a few paid more than usual attention 
 to their temper, because they had been cautioned against 
 every thing liable to turn sour. 
 
 An inveterate dram-drinker being told that the cholera 
 with which he was attacked was incurable, and that he would 
 speedily be removed to a world of pure spirits, replied, " Well, 
 that's a comfort at all events, for it's very difficult to get any 
 in this world." 
 
 Kind Providence never sends an evil without a remedy : 
 — and arithmetic is the natural cure for the passion of fear. 
 If a coward can be made to count his enemies, his terrors may 
 be reasoned with, and he may think of ways and means of 
 counteraction. 
 
 FEE — Doctor's — Often the purchase-money for that which 
 the vendor cannot sell. See Fee Simple. A certain Escula- 
 pian, never known to refuse his golden honorarium, not having 
 received it one morning from a patient whom he had been 
 long attending, affected to be searching about very earnestly 
 upon the floor. " "What are you looking for, Doctor ? " in- 
 quired the sick man. " For my fee," was the reply ; " not 
 finding it in my hand, I suspect I must have dropped it." 
 u No, Doctor, no ; you have made a small mistake ; it is I 
 who have dropped it ! " 
 
 FLATTERY — See Flummery — The hocus-pocus nonsense 
 with which our ears are sometimes cajoled, in order that we 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 119 
 
 may be more effectually bamboozled and deceived. Unbounded 
 is the respect and politeness with which the practised adulator 
 throws dust in your eyes, when he wants to pick your pocket, 
 or to make a fool of you. A man's flattery, to be really good, 
 ought not only to be as keen as his sword, but as polished. 
 By no means is it so easy a weapon to wield as many people 
 imagine : it is like a flail, which if not adroitly used, will box 
 your own ears, instead of tickling those of the corn. Let it 
 be taken for granted, that while many women will accept a 
 complement to their beauty at the expense of their under- 
 standing, very few will relish a compliment to their talents if 
 
 it derogate from their personal charms. Lady G , whose 
 
 ten lustres have somewhat dimmed the lustre of her attractions, 
 consented in a Parisian party to assist in getting up an extem- 
 poraneous Proverbe, and to appear as Calypso. In answer to 
 the compliments she received at the conclusion, she declared 
 that she had done her best, but added, that to represent Ca- 
 lypso properly, one should be young and handsome. "Not 
 at all," said an old General, wishing to be very polite, " your 
 ladyship is a proof to the contrary ; nothing could look better 
 from the further end of the saloon, and nothing could be better 
 acted : as to youth and beauty, the distance supplies all that." 
 " In that case, General ! I wonder that you do not always keep 
 at a distance," was the retort. 
 
 PLC WEES — The terrestrial stars that bring down heaven 
 to earth, and carry up our thoughts from earth to heaven : — 
 the poetry of the Creator, written in beauty and fragrance. 
 " He who does not love flowers," says Ludwig Tieg, a German 
 writer, "has lost all fear and love of God." Another Ger- 
 man author defines woman as something between a flower 
 and an angel. 
 
 EOGIES — That worthy class of men who go about treading 
 upon the coat-tails of Young Progress, and crying Whoa! 
 whoa ! — men who pin their faith to the " ancients ; " and 
 whose constantly repeated watchword is "the wisdom of 
 our ancestors" — men whose genius cannot comprehend the 
 
120 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 present, as their lack of courage does not permit them to lay- 
 hold actively and right it. For this reason they find it most 
 convenient to glorify our ancestors, and to give currency to 
 perhaps the most mischievous and absurd fallacy of modern 
 times. For though experience is certainly the mother of wis- 
 dom, and the old have, of course, a greater experience than 
 the young, the question is, who are the old ? and who are the 
 young ? Of individuals living at the same period, the oldest 
 has, of course the greatest experience ; but among generations 
 of men the reverse of this is true. Those who come first (our 
 ancestors) are the young people, and have the least experience. 
 "We have added to their experience the experience of many 
 centuries, and, therefore, as far as experience goes, are wiser, 
 and more capable of forming an opinion than they were. The 
 real feeling should be, not can we be so presumptuous as to put 
 our opinions in opposition to those of our ancestors ? but can 
 such young, ignorant, inexperienced persons as our ancestors 
 necessarily were, be expected to have understood a subject as 
 well as those who have seen so much more, lived so much longer, 
 and enjoyed the experience of so many centuries ? All this 
 cant, then, about our ancestors is merely an abuse of words, by 
 transferring phrases true of contemporary men to succeeding 
 ages. Whereas (as we have before observed) of living men the 
 oldest has, cceteris paribus, the most experience ; of generations 
 the oldest has, ceteris paribus, the least experience. 
 
 "We cannot of course be supposed to maintain that our 
 ancestors wanted wisdom, or that they were necessarily mis- 
 taken in their institutions, because their means of information 
 were more limited than ours. But we do confidently maintain 
 that when we find it expedient to change any thing which our 
 ancestors have enacted, we are the experienced persons, and 
 not they. 
 
 FOOL— The Dandy reader may please to see Looking 
 
 glass. Folly, nevertheless, has found other defenders than the 
 author of the Encomium Morim, for it has been seriously 
 maintained by a modern writer, that none but a fool will 
 attempt to live without folly, and that the greatest of all follies 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 121 
 
 is to be wiser than others. Let the fool then be comforted ; 
 he was never guilty of this absurdity. 
 
 FOOLOMETER— Mr. Fox very often used to say, "I 
 wonder what Lord B. will think of this." Lord B. happened 
 to be a very stupid person, and the curiosity of Mr. Fox's 
 friends was naturally excited to know why he attached such 
 importance to the opinion of such an ordinary commonplace 
 person. " His opinion," said Mr. Fox, " is of much more im- 
 portance than you are aware of. He is an exact representative 
 of all commonplace English prejudices, and what Lord B. 
 thinks of any measure, the great majority of English people 
 will think of it." 
 
 This example Sydney Smith recommends to other British 
 ministers ; and it may be safely adopted by governors in all 
 civilized nations, our own " Universal" one included. He says : 
 " I am astonished that these ministers neglect the common pre- 
 caution of a foolometer, with which no public man should be un- 
 provided : I mean the acquaintance and society of three or four 
 regular British fools as a test of public opinion. Every cabinet 
 minister should judge of all his measures by his foolometer, as a 
 navigator crowds or shortens sail by the barometer in his cabin. 
 I have a very valuable instrument of that kind myself, which I 
 have used for many years ; and I would be bound to predict, 
 with the utmost nicety, by the help of this machine, the pre- 
 cise effect which any measure would produce upon public 
 opinion." 
 
 FORGIVENESS — is not always the noblest revenge for an 
 injury, since it may proceed from spite, rather than from a 
 generous forbearance. "I never used revenge," says Lord Her- 
 bert, of Oherbury, — " as leaving it always to God, who, the 
 less I punish .mine enemies, will inflict so much the more 
 punishment on them." Perhaps his lordship had been reading 
 the 25th chapter of Proverbs, where it is said, " If thine enemy 
 be hungry, give him bread to eat, and if he be thirsty, give 
 him water to drink, for then shalt thou heap coals of fire upon 
 his head, and the Lord shall reward thee." This may be ques- 
 6 
 
122 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 tionable morality,- but it is at all events better to do good with 
 a bad motive, than evil with a good one ; for a virtuous action 
 may benefit many, whereas a wrong feeling can only implicate 
 the single individual from whom it emanates. In the former 
 case, too, the example may be imitated without the unworthy 
 impulse ; as in the latter it may be followed without the 
 redeeming incitement. 
 
 FOBTtHSTE — A blind goddess, who sometimes bestows her 
 smiles upon fools, in order to reconcile men of sense to her 
 frowns ; and often runs from the proud, to revisit the Wretch- 
 ed. A man of fortune is one who is so unfortunate as to be 
 released from the necessity of employment for the mind and 
 exercise for the body, the two great constituents of health and 
 happiness ; who has every thing to fear and nothing to hope ; 
 and who consequently pays in anxiety and ennui more than 
 the value of his money. Fortune is painted blind, in order to 
 show her impartiality ; but when she cheers the needy with 
 hope, and depresses the wealthy with distrust, methinks she 
 confers the richest boon on the poorest man, and injures those 
 upon whom she bestows her favors. 
 
 Te colimus, Fortuna, Deam, is, nevertheless, the motto to 
 almost every man's conduct, however he may disclaim the 
 confession with his lips ; and few have a more ready excuse for 
 their homage than the Grecian sage, who being asked why 
 philosophers always ran after rich men, while rich men never 
 courted philosophers, replied, " Because the latter know that 
 they want money, while the former do not know that they 
 want wisdom." Who so independent of the blind goddess as 
 the ruined gamester, when he exclaimed, after a run of ill luck, 
 " O spiteful Fortune ! you may make me lose as much as you 
 please, but I defy you to make me pay ! " 
 
 Dryden evinces no great respect for this deity, when he 
 exclaims — 
 
 "Fortune a goddess is to fools alone, 
 The wise are always masters of their own." 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 123 
 
 FORTUNE-TELLER— A pickpocket, discerning enough to 
 limit his or her depredations to gulls and simpletons. The 
 girl who told the gypsy hy whom she had been promised a 
 large fortune, that she might deduct another sixpence, provided 
 she would realize her prediction, and pay over the remainder 
 of the money at once, little dreamt that she was translating 
 a thought of old Ennius, the Koman poet, who says, speaking 
 of fortune-tellers — 
 
 " Quibus divitias pollicentur, ab iis drachmam petunt, 
 De divitiis deducant drachmam, reddant csetera." 
 
 It is remarkable that in our aspirations after wealth, we 
 never betake ourselves to the wealthy, who might be the most 
 likely to communicate the secret of its acquisition ; but rather 
 lend ourselves to the delusions of the ragged and the starving, 
 whose poverty is the surest proof that they are totally ignorant 
 of the magnum arcanum. One must have the ears of Midas to 
 listen to those who pretend to possess his touch. 
 
 FRIEKD — Real — One who will tell you of your faults and 
 follies in prosperity, and assist you with his hand and heart in 
 adversity. — See Phcenix, and Unicorn. 
 
 Strange as it may sound, we are sometimes rather disposed 
 to choose our friends from the unworthy than the worthy ; 
 for though it is difficult to love those whom we do not esteem, 
 it is a greater difficulty to love those whom we esteem much 
 more than ourselves. A perfect friendship requires equality, 
 even in virtue. He who has merited friends, will seldom be 
 without them ; for attachment is not so rare as the desert that 
 attracts and secures it. 
 
 Some there are who with an apparent zeal, vindicate their 
 friends from all their little peccadilloes, whitewash them as care- 
 fully as they can, and then knock them on the head by lamenting 
 their addiction to some gross impropriety. This resembles the 
 conduct of the Roman priests, who, when an ox was not com- 
 pletely white, chalked over the dark spots, and leading him up 
 to the altar, made him an immediate sacrifice. 
 
 Favors and especially pecuniary ones, are generally fatal to 
 friendship ; for our pride will ever prompt us to lower the value 
 
124 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 of the gift by diminishing that of the donor. Ingratitude is 
 an effort to recover our own esteem, by getting rid of our 
 esteem for our benefactor, whom we look upon as a sort of 
 tooth-drawer, that has cured us of one pain by inflicting another. 
 As friendship must be founded on mutual esteem, it cannot 
 long exist among the vicious ; for we soon find ill company to 
 be like a dog, which dirts those the most whom he loves the 
 best. After Lady E. L. and her female companion had defied 
 public opinion for some time, her ladyship was obliged to say — 
 " Well now, my dear friend, we must part for ever : for you 
 have no character left, and I have not enough for two." 
 
 FRIENDS — There may be the same vitiated taste in the 
 choice of friends, as of food. Many who like their game to 
 be high and rank, seem to choose their associates for the same 
 recommendation ; not objecting to those whose reputations are 
 in the worst odor. Others lay the foundation of future quar- 
 rels by forming inconsiderate and incongruous attachments — a 
 union, as Cowper wittily, but ungrammatically observes — 
 
 "Like Hand-in-Hand insurance plates, 
 Which unavoidably creates 
 The thoughts of conflagration. " 
 
 A fashionable friend is one who will dine with you, game 
 with you, walk or ride out with you, borrow money of you, 
 escort your wife to public places — if she be handsome, stand 
 by and see you fairly shot, if you happen to be engaged in a 
 duel, and slink away and see you fairly clapped into prison, if 
 you experience a reverse of fortune. Such a man is like the 
 shadow of the sun-dial, which appears in fine weather, and 
 vanishes when there comes a rainy day. 
 
 People are always pleased with those who partake pleasure 
 with them ; and hence there is a maudlin sympathy among 
 brother topers, — but this is fellowship, not friendship. Never 
 was the term more thoroughly desecrated than by the heart- 
 less Horace Walpole, who, in one of his letters, says, " If one 
 of my friends happens to die, I drive down to St. James's 
 Coffee House, and bring home a new one." 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 125 
 
 FURNITURE — Inanimate society. I like appropriate 
 emblems in furniture, though I would not adopt the pedantry 
 of Mr. Hope in its full extent, and make every joint stool, by 
 its classical or hieroglyphical mysteries, puzzle the head 
 instead of supporting the body. "Where pleasant associations 
 can be awakened, — and I would admit none of a contrary ten- 
 dency, — why should not our chairs, tables, and sideboards be 
 made to enhance the attractions and the resources of home, by 
 ministering to a refined taste, and stimulating the imagina- 
 tion ? To study how every decoration may express an emblem, 
 and even to pun in marble, by sculpturing horses' heads beside 
 a bust of Philip, because that word signifies, in Greek, a lover 
 of horses, is a pitiful conceit ; but it is pleasant, nevertheless, 
 to impart to mahogany some of the properties of mind, to lift 
 upholstery out of its materiality, and make it the medium for 
 conveying the fancy through the whole range of time and 
 space. 
 
 FUTURITY— "What we are to be, determined by what we 
 have been. An inscrutable mystery, of which we can only 
 guess at a solution, by referring to the past and the present. 
 These assure us, by millions of incontestable proofs, that the 
 benevolent Creator sympathizes with our happiness ; then he 
 must sympathize still more tenderly with our sufferings. To 
 suppose that he would scatter all sorts of delights around us in 
 this evanescent world, and yet doom the great mass of man- 
 kind to everlasting anguish in the next, is an irreconcilable 
 contradiction. The earth, upon which we are merely flitting 
 passengers, is everywhere enamelled with flowers, equally 
 exquisite for varied beauty and perfume, but useless, except for 
 the purpose of diffusing pleasure ; and yet our eternal abode 
 is to be horrent with fire and agony ! The best way of com- 
 bating the terrors with which superstition has darkened futuri- 
 ty, is to appeal from the unknown to the known, from the 
 unseen to the visible, from imaginary torment to real enjoy- 
 ment, from the frightfulness and the stench of Tophet to the 
 beauty of a tulip, and the fragrance of a rose. 
 
126 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 GAMING — See Beggar and Suicide — The gamester begins 
 by being a dupe, speedily becomes a knave', and generally ends 
 Ms career as a pauper. A dice-box, like that of Pandora, is 
 full of all evils, with a deceitful Hope at the bottom, which 
 generally turns into Despair. There is but one good throw 
 upon the dice, which is, to throw them away. 
 
 GENIUS — A natural aptitude to perform well and easily 
 that which others can do but indifferently, and with pains. 
 Locke has exploded the theory of innate ideas. The mind of a 
 newly -born infant is as a new mirror, which with a capacity 
 to reflect all objects, is, in itself, objectless. There is nothing 
 innate or original in either case, except the capacity to reflect, 
 which will vary according to the peculiar construction of the 
 mind or the mirror ; some presenting objects with a true or a 
 false, with a beautifying or a discolored and unbecoming hue ; 
 while others will enlarge, diminish, distort, or absolutely 
 reverse the forms presented to them. These different tenden- 
 cies of minds, originally idealess, constitute the diversities of 
 human character, or form what is commonly called genius. 
 
 GENTLEMAN" — A character oftener heard of than seen ; 
 to draw which is the pet desire of every budding novelist and 
 essayist. These mostly fail, however, in their sketches, for the 
 sufficient reason that each sits for his own portrait. 
 
 It has been remarked that whatever may be the reputation 
 of a man while alive, when dead he is generally allowed to be 
 a finished gentleman. 
 
 Among the most successful attempts at embodying in 
 words the various qualities which make up our variety of 
 gentleman — and a very popular variety, is the following sketch, 
 by an eminent American author, now deceased, of an eminent 
 compatriot, who " still lives : " " His address is the most genial 
 that can be conceived — its honhommie irresistible. He speaks 
 in a loud, clear, hearty tone, dogmatically, with his head thrown 
 back and his chest out ; never waits for an introduction to 
 any lady ; slaps a perfect stranger on the back, and calls him 
 " Doctor " or " learned Theban ; " pats every lady on the head, 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 127 
 
 and (if she be pretty and petite) designates her by some such 
 title as "My pocket edition of the Lives of the Saints." His 
 conversation proper is a sort of Eoman punch, made up of 
 tragedy, comedy, and the broadest of all possible farces. He 
 has a natural, felicitous flow of talk, always over-swelling the 
 boundaries and sweeping every thing before it, right and left. 
 He is very earnest, intense, emphatic ; thumps the table with 
 his fist ; shocks the nerves of the ladies." 
 
 In reality, whoever is open, loyal, and true ; whoever is of 
 humane and affable demeanor ; whoever is honorable in him- 
 self, and in his judgment of others, and requires no law but 
 his word to make him fulfil an engagement, such a man is a 
 zman. 
 
 GHOST — The result of a disordered nervous system, or a 
 vivid imagination, assisted by a little credulity, and judiciously 
 mixed with a moderate dose of mental anxiety, or, better yet, 
 as much remorse as will lie in the point of a dagger. There 
 is more meaning and philosophy than at first sight appears in 
 Coleridge's answer to Lady Beaumont, when she asked him 
 whether he believed in ghosts — " O no, Madam, I have seen 
 too many to believe in them." He had sense enough to see 
 that his senses had' been deceived. 
 
 GLORY — Military — Sharing with plague, pestilence, and 
 famine, the honor of destroying your species ; and partici- 
 pating with Alexander's horse the distraction of transmitting 
 your name to posterity. 
 
 GLUTTONY— Pope's line— 
 
 "Is there no help then, — Helluo, bring the jowl," 
 
 was suggested by what Athenseus records of Philoxenus, the 
 Dithyrambic poet, who, having nearly completed, at one meal, 
 an enormous polypus, was seized with convulsive spasms, and 
 being told his last hour was at hand, exclaimed — " Since Cha- 
 ron and Atropos are come to call me away from my delicacies, 
 it is best to leave nothing behind, so bring the remainder of 
 
128 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 the polypus." According to the same veracious author, Cam- 
 bles, being given to gastromargism, ate up Ms wife, and in the 
 morning, found her hands in his throat ! Many a poor man 
 now-a-days, when he finds the hands of his shrewish wife in his 
 throat, would he glad to dispose of the rest of her body after 
 the fashion of Cambles. 
 
 GNATS — " To what base uses may we not return ! " ex- 
 claims Hamlet, — "Imperial Caesar dead and turned to clay," 
 &c. It is a humiliating fact, which cannot be denied ; but, on 
 the other hand, there are many forms of matter, which, in 
 their decomposition, are as much elevated, as the ingredients 
 of Caesar's body were temporarily degraded. Gnats, for in- 
 stance, and other annoying insects devoured by birds, are ulti- 
 mately converted into music ; their importunate buzzings being 
 but an inharmonious prelude, or tuning of instruments for the 
 warbling of the nightingale, the cheerful song of the thrush, 
 and the full concert of the winged choristers, who turn the 
 summer air into melody. Our own daily food, ministering to 
 the spirit of which the body is only the shrine, may be sub- 
 limised into wit, wisdom, and poetry. In the economy of 
 nature, there is a perpetual interchange of life and death, of 
 mind and matter. "We draw existence and intellect from the 
 earth, we return to it, and contribute, by resolving into our 
 first elements, to supply life and intellect to our successors. 
 
 GOETHE — said that he considered no work complete, unless 
 it involved some mystery which the author left unexplained, 
 for the express purpose of stimulating the curiosity and the 
 faculties of the reader. In this confession we have a key to 
 his Faust, to much of the Kantian philosophy, and to a portion 
 of the German literature in general. The mystical — the obscure 
 — the enigmatical, where there is no real riddle to be solved, as 
 in the case of Faust, Coleridge's Christabel, and similar produc- 
 tions, are so much sheer impertinence, and one feels a contemp- 
 tuous pity for those laborious (Edipi who puzzle their brains 
 in endeavoring to solve the imaginary enigma of a sham 
 Sphynx. German writers and readers seem to find a delight 
 in thus stultifying each other. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 129 
 
 GOOD— in things evil. 
 
 "There is a soul of goodness in things evil, 
 "Would men observingly distil it out I " 
 
 " So with equal wisdom and good-nature, does Shakspeare 
 make one of his characters exclaim — Suffering gives strength 
 to sympathy. Hate of the particular may have a foundation 
 in love for the general. The lowest and most wilful vice may 
 plunge deeper out of a regret of virtue. Even in envy may be 
 discerned something of an instinct of justice, something of a 
 wish to see universal fair-play, and things on a level." Leigh 
 Hunt, from one of whose delightful papers in the Indicator this 
 passage is extracted, might easily have expanded his idea, and 
 illustrated it by further examples ; for while body and soul 
 retain their alliance, their joint offspring will ever bear a like- 
 ness to either parent. " The web of our life is of a mingled 
 yarn, good and ill together ; our virtues would be proud if our 
 faults whipped them not ; and our crimes would despair if 
 they were not cherished by our virtues." To begin with the 
 latter ; — what we call patriotism, is often a blind and mis- 
 chievous prejudice against other nations, rather than an en- 
 lightened preference of our own. Love is as often sensual as 
 sentimental. Parental affection, where it is not instinctive, is 
 only reflected self-love. Charity not seldom proceeds from 
 pride, from our desire to get rid of an uneasy sensation, or 
 from the hope of being repaid with usurious interest what we 
 " lend to the Lord." Dispensing justice may spring from the 
 thirst of domination over our fellow creatures ; and religion 
 itself, even when sincere, may be instigated by that selfish 
 regard to future reward, which has been termed — other- 
 worldliness. 
 
 As our virtues are tainted occasionally by degrading asso- 
 ciations, so may our vices be mingled with redeeming ones. 
 Conjugal jealousy and the hatred of a rival, spring from the 
 intensity of our love. Eevenge, which, like envy, is an instinct 
 of justice, does but take into its own hands the execution of 
 that natural law which preceded the social. Avarice is only 
 prudence and economy pushed to excess ; intemperance has its 
 6* 
 
130' 
 
 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 source in fellowship and hospitality ; and wasteful extravagance 
 springs from an unregulated generosity. These considera- 
 tions are not urged to encourage moral Pyrrhonism and doubt ; 
 still less to confound the barriers of right and wrong ; but to 
 inculcate humility as well as forbearance, to teach us that 
 we should neither be too overweening in estimating our own 
 virtues, nor too severe in condemning the failings of others. 
 
 GOODKESS— A synonyme for Deity. "When all the 
 good of a system," says G. L. Le Sage, of Geneva, " can easily 
 be traced to general principles, and when all the evils appear 
 to be exceptions, closely connected with some good, the excess 
 being evidently, though, perhaps, but in a small degree, on the 
 side of good, the contriver must be regarded as beneficent." 
 If the existence of pain and evil render it difficult for a reflect- 
 ing man to be an optimist, there is no reason why he should 
 not, at all events, be an agathist. It is an observation of Dr. 
 Johnson, that as the greatest liar tells more truth than false- 
 hood, so may it be said of the worst man, that he does more 
 good than evil. 
 
 " When a common soldier," observes Adam Smith, " is 
 ordered upon a forlorn hope, his courage, and his sense of duty, 
 will make him march to his doom with alacrity ; but how few 
 are philosophers enough to imitate this brave devotion, when 
 they are ordered out upon the forlorn hope of the universe." 
 The moral courage that will face obloquy in a good cause, is a 
 much rarer gift than the bodily valor that will confront death 
 in a bad one. 
 
 With a double vigilance should we watch our actions, when 
 we reflect, that good and bad ones are never childless ; and 
 that, in both cases, the offspring goes beyond the parent, — 
 every good begetting a better, every bad a worse. 
 
 GOOSE — A bird, and word of reproach, but I know not 
 why. M. de Cottu, the French jurist, who came to England 
 to digest laws and dinners, and who pronounced the cuisine to 
 be fade et bornee, records, with an affectation of delicate disgust, 
 that even at decent tables he had often seen a goose ! — Gadso ! 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 131 
 
 I can easily believe it, if he sat opposite the mirror. Why this 
 calumniated fowl should be a byeword for ridicule in our dis- 
 course, or an object of abomination at polite tables, is an 
 enigma, which it might puzzle (Edipus to solve. Every one 
 knows that the Eoman State was saved by the cackling of 
 geese ; a hint which has by no means been thrown away upon 
 some of our own short- witted and long-winded Congressmen. 
 Among the Eomans, the gander and his spouse were a favorite 
 and a fashionable dish ; but learned commentators maintain, 
 that the particular brood to which the commonwealth was so 
 much indebted was preserved, as well as all its immediate de- 
 scendants, with the utmost care ; a circumstance which must 
 have been much deplored by the epicures of that day, since it 
 became impossible to have a Capitol goose for dinner. Then, 
 as now, the little giblets were thought great delicacies, and 
 good livers deemed the livers good, as appears by the following 
 extract from Francis's Horace, b. ii. sat. 8 : — 
 
 "And a white gander's liver, 
 Stuff 'd fat with figs, bespoke the curious giver." 
 
 Whence, also, we may see that their epicurism extended even 
 to the color. A modern white gander is a rara avis. Queen 
 Elizabeth was cutting up a goose, when she learnt that the 
 Spanish armada had been cut up by a Drake. Why, then, 
 should a bird, ennobled by so many historical, and endeared by 
 so many culinary recommendations, be treated with scorn and 
 contumely? If the reader sympathize with the writer in 
 wishing to see some zealous, though tardy reparation, made by 
 a featherless biped to the biped who supplies us with feathers, 
 he will peruse with a kindred complacency and indulgence the 
 following 
 
 ODE TO A GOOSE. 
 
 Written after dinner on the Feast of St. Michael. 
 
 STROPHE I. 
 
 O bikd most rare ! although thou- art 
 Uncommon common on a common, 
 What man or woman 
 Can in one single term impart 
 
132 THE TIN TEUMPET. 
 
 A proper name for thee ?— An ancient Eoman 
 ■Would answer — " Anser." Sure I am, that no man 
 Knowing thy various attributes, would choose 
 To call thee Goose I 
 
 ANTISTBOPHE I. 
 
 No, Goose ! thou art no Goose. Well stuff 'd with sago 
 And titillating things, both dead and living, 
 For ever art thou giving 
 Solace to man in life's brief pilgrimage. 
 
 Jove's eagle wielding the avenging thunder, 
 Is but a folio hawk, a bird of plunder. 
 
 Minerva's owl, 
 
 (Both are foul fowl !) 
 Shunning the light, should ne'er have been preferr'd 
 To rank as Wisdom's bird — 
 As for the young and stately swan, 
 A Scottish lawyer is the man 
 
 To sing its praises. 
 /am no writer to the cygnet — so, 
 
 Avoiding further periphrases, 
 For thee alone, Goose 1 my verse shall flow. 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 O bird of Morpheus ! half our lives are sped, 
 (Ay, and the happiest too) upon a bed 
 Stuff 'd with thy feathers. On thy breast 
 Thou hushest us to rest, 
 As if we were thy goslings, 
 Till we forget life's hubble-bubble, 
 Its toil and trouble, 
 Its crossings and its jostlings. 
 And borne in dreams to empyrean latitudes, 
 Eevel in ecstacies and bright beatitudes. 
 
 ANTISTBOPHE II. 
 
 Churls that we are ! what snoozing hum 
 
 Ascends to thee ?— what pseans, what adorings ? 
 Our mouths, perchance, are open, but they're dumb : 
 
 Our soul harangues 
 
 Are nasal twangs, 
 And all our gratitude consists of snorings. 
 
 EPODE II. 
 
 Bird of Apollo ! worthy to pluck grass 
 
 On the Parnassian mountain, 
 
 Beside the classic fountain 
 Of Hippocrene, what Muse with thee can class, 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 133 
 
 To whose inspiring wing we owe 
 
 All that the poets past have writ ; 
 From whose ungather'd wings shall flow 
 All our whole store of future wit? 
 
 Well may'st thou strut, 
 
 Proud of thy pens uncut, 
 
 "Which shall cut jokes, 
 
 In after times, for unborn folks ; — 
 "Well may'st thou plume thyself upon thy plumage— all 
 
 Is erudite and intellectual, 
 
 Each wing a cyclopaedia, fraught 
 
 "With genius multiform, a word of thought ! 
 
 Ah ! when thou putt'st thy head 
 
 Beneath that wing to bed, 
 In future libraries thou tak'st a nap, 
 And dream'st of Paternoster Eow, mayhap ! 
 "What are they dreaming of, that they forget 
 
 (The publishing and scribbling set) 
 
 To apotheosise thee, Goose ! 
 As the tenth Muse ? 
 
 ANTISTBOPHE III. 
 
 And then the darliDg driblets, 
 
 That constitute thy giblets, 
 
 "Whether in soup or stew'd, 
 1 what delectable and dainty food I 
 Full of my subject, ('twas my dinner dish,) 
 
 No wonder that I feel all over goosy, 
 
 Fired with what Braham calls entusimusy, 
 So much so, I could almost wish, 
 
 If fate were nothing loath, 
 
 To be a Goose instead of man. 
 "Be doubly happy on thy present plan," 
 
 (Methinks the reader cries,) 
 
 "And thank the favoring destinies, 
 
 For now thou'rt both I " 
 
 The celebrated Colonel McCluny saw through this vulgar 
 prejudice against the goose. " I was once sitting at a dinner- 
 table opposite him ; between us was an antediluvian duck, 
 which I was making desperate efforts to disintegrate. I ob- 
 served the Colonel regarding me with a steady smile, and re- 
 marked, ' Colonel, you appear to be amused at my awkwardness.' 
 1 No, sir,' replied he, ' I was thinking why the term duck was 
 used as a word of endearment, and goose one of reproach.' " 
 
 GOUT — Sometimes the father's sin visited upon the child, 
 but more often the child of our own sins visiting its father. 
 
134 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 A man of the latter stamp once asked Abernethy what he 
 should do to avoid the infliction. — " Live upon a shilling a 
 day — and earn it," was the reply, at once pertinent and im- 
 pertinent. 
 
 GRADGRIKD — Sydney Smith, the most practical of men, 
 had a great contempt for the Gradgrind genus. " That school," 
 said he, " treat mankind as if they were mere machines ; the 
 feelings or affections never enter into their calculations. If 
 every thing is to be sacrificed to utility, why do you bury your 
 grandmother at all ? why don't you cut her into small pieces 
 at once, and make portable soup of her ? " 
 
 GRATITUDE— If this be justly defined as " a lively sense 
 of benefits to come," ingratitude is so far preferable, that it is 
 free from hypocrisy and sordid motives, and releases the bene- 
 factor as well as the benefited. If the one be a calculating 
 virtue, the other is at least a frank vice. Great ingratitude 
 cannot be common, because great beneficence is rare, and its 
 alleged frequency, therefore, is often a pretext trumped up by 
 the parsimonious to save their pockets. To be deterred by such 
 a plea from practising charity, when we have the means, is to 
 commit towards heaven the very offence which we are imputing 
 to our fellow-creatures. Besides, one man's ingratitude is not 
 another man's ingratitude. Beneficent people are rarely grate- 
 ful ; they look upon common favors like common politeness, as 
 a matter of course. An apparent gratitude may sometimes be 
 the sharpest revenge. Sir Charles Sedley, when he joined: the 
 Prince of Orange, said of King James the Second — " He has 
 made my daughter a Countess, and I will show my gratitude 
 by endeavoring to make his a Queen." It will be recollected, 
 that Sedley's daughter, created Countess of Dorchester, was 
 James's mistress, and that the Prince of Orange's wife, after- 
 wards Queen Mary, was James's daughter. 
 
 GRAVE — The gate through which we pass from the visible 
 to the invisible world. 
 
 " GRAVITY "—says Rochefoucauld, " is a mystery of the 
 body, invented to conceal the defects of the understanding." 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 135 
 
 GEIEFS — ^are like the beings that endure them, — the little 
 ones are the most clamorous and noisy ; those of older growth, 
 and greater magnitude, are generally tranquil, and sometimes 
 silent. Our minds are like ill-hung vehicles ; when they have 
 little to carry, they raise a prodigious clatter, — when heavily 
 laden, they neither creak nor rumble. 
 
 GrEUMBLEES — who are perpetually publishing the mal- 
 treatment they have experienced, excite but little sympathy ; 
 for, without going the length of Eochefoucauld's maxim, it may 
 safely be maintained, that there is nothing which people in 
 general bear with more equanimity than the misfortunes of 
 their neighbors. It is natural that those who feel themselves 
 aggrieved, should give vent to complaint ; but it is equally so, 
 that their hearers should at length listen to the catalogue of 
 their wrongs with indifference. 
 
 " If you are treated ill and put on, 
 
 'Tis natural to make a fuss ; 
 To see it and not care a button, 
 
 Is just as natural for us. 
 Like people viewing, at a distance, 
 
 Two persons thrown out of a casement, 
 All we can do for your assistance, 
 
 Is to afford you our amazement : — 
 For an impartial looker-on 
 
 In suck disasters never chooses ; 
 'Tis neither Tom, nor Will, nor John, — 
 
 'Tis the phenomenon amuses." 
 
 Not to enjoy all the innocent happiness we can, is so far 
 impious, that it is defrauding the Creator of that purpose in 
 our creation, which we may consider to be the most congenial 
 to the divine nature. 
 
 HABIT — A second nature, which often supersedes the first. 
 The habit which enables one man to dispense with necessaries, 
 may render superfluities indispensable to another. Extremes 
 touch ; he who wants no favors from fortune, may be said to 
 have obtained the very greatest that she can bestow, in realiz- 
 ing an independence which no changes or reverses can dimin- 
 ish. What king or conqueror can say as much ? 
 
136 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 The late Sir "W r S g, as lie hurried along the streets 
 
 of London, had contracted a habit, whenever he met any of his 
 nnmerons acquaintance, of saluting them with a passing bow, 
 a touch of the hat, and the words — " Sir, I wish you a very 
 good morning." As High Sheriff of a county, it once became 
 his duty to attend the execution of a criminal, when, having 
 seen that all the preliminary arrangements were complete, and 
 that his services were no longer needed, he bowed, and touched 
 his hat to the culprit, whose cap was already over his face, 
 and took leave of him with his habitual — " Sir, I wish you a 
 very good morning ! " 
 
 A friend of the author's, who had purchased a 'post-obit^ 
 dependent on the life of an elderly female, being asked, some 
 years afterwards, whether he had yet come into possession, 
 replied — " Oh no ! — and I have quite given it up ; for the old 
 cat has now acquired such a habit of living, that I do not sup- 
 pose she could die if she would." It must be confessed, that 
 this obstinate habit is the very last that we resign. 
 
 HAPPINESS — A blessing often missed by those who run 
 after pleasure, and generally found by those who suffer pleasure 
 to run after them. Like a Will o'-the-wisp, it is sometimes 
 farthest off when we imagine we can grasp it, and nearest to 
 us when it appears to be at a distance. The most effec- 
 tual way to secure it to ourselves, is to confer it upon others. 
 
 None are either so miserable or so happy as they are 
 thought, for the mind soon habituates itself to its moral atmos- 
 phere, whether rough or gentle. If there be no difference 
 between possessing a thing, and not wishing for it, happiness 
 may be best attained by indifference ; at all events there is a 
 greater approximation than is generally supposed, between 
 those who have lost, and those who retain their happiness ; 
 since the former are always hoping to recover, what the latter 
 are always fearing to be deprived of. 
 
 Pyrrhus, denying the reality of any beatitude, maintained 
 that life and death were equal, and when asked why he did 
 not seek the grave, since existence was so little attractive, 
 replied, " Because both are indifferent to me." 
 
THE TIN TKTJMPET. 137 
 
 In the progress of time and general improvement, the aggre- 
 gate of human enjoyment may be incalculably increased, with- 
 out diminishing the stock of comparative discontent ; for as 
 we measure our portion in life not by our superiority to our 
 predecessors, but by our inferiority to our contemporaries, 
 we forget abstract benefits in relative disadvantages. Notwith- 
 standing this drawback, human happiness must be constantly 
 augmenting. As civilization advances, every peasant enjoys 
 luxuries and securities from which nobles and monarchs were 
 fomerly debarred. That there is much less misery and suffering 
 in the world than formerly, is incontestably proved by the 
 remarkable increase in the mean duration of life, while the 
 years thus added to our span, derive a double value from the 
 almost universal diffusion of the means of enjoying them. 
 
 As important disappointments do but rarely occur, and yet 
 many men are unhappy during the greater part of their lives, 
 it is evident that they must fret their spirit about trifles. The 
 great secret of cheerfulness and content is not to be annoyed 
 by petty thwartings, and not to aspire to unattainable objects. 
 Children are always happy, because they are always pursuing 
 trifles of easy acquisition. 
 
 Exaggerating the misery of mankind is a species of impiety, 
 because it is an oblique reflection on the benevolence of the 
 Deity. If man had been made involuntarily happy, he would 
 have been without motives to exertion, and would have lost 
 that noblest species of felicity which arises from the virtuous 
 and successful development of his faculties. If virtue, more- 
 over, always insured happiness, while vice entailed inevitable 
 misery, we should lose one of the strongest arguments for a 
 future state of retribution. 
 
 There are two things which will make us happy in this life, 
 if we attend to them. The first is, never to vex ourselves 
 about what we can't help, and the second, never to vex our- 
 selves about what we can help. 
 
 HAKDSHIPS — Pleasures when they are self-imposed, 
 intolerable grievances when they are required by our duty. 
 "What sportsman ever complains of fatigue, what card-player 
 
138 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 of sedentariness, what angler of solitude and dnlness, what 
 bookworm of confinement, what miser of poverty, what lover 
 of slavery ? — Ay, but these annoyances may be endured with 
 patience, because they are voluntary. Well, and what pre- 
 vents us from performing with an equal good will the tasks 
 enjoined, by our station in life, and which all our ill-will can- 
 not enable us to avoid ? We conquer our fate when we sub- 
 mit to it cheerfully. Vain repinings only serve to aggra- 
 vate it. . . 
 
 So prone, however, are we to discontent and complaint, 
 that even when men bear their real hardships with tolerable 
 composure, they are apt to invent imaginary ones, to which 
 they cannot submit with any degree of patience. 
 
 HARMONY — Musical — A sensual pleasure, which, in 
 well-regulated minds, seldom fails to produce moral results. 
 
 Hark I to the voice of yonder sour 
 
 And gloomy monitor, who cries — 
 " Why do yon waste life's fleeting hour 
 
 In idle songs and melodies ? 
 The tongue that sings — the hands that play, 
 
 Shall soon be mute and cold in death, 
 And ye who listen to the lay 
 
 As soon shall yield your parting breath." 
 
 But hark ! I hear an angel's voice — 
 
 " Mortals ! " exclaims the dulcet chant, 
 "Sing ! and with instruments rejoice, 
 
 For music is a heavenly grant. 
 'Twas meant to charm your cares away, 
 
 The thoughts to raise— the heart to mend, 
 And hallow'd thus, in slightest lay 
 « Attains a high and moral end." 
 
 He who has a spirit of harmony in his nature will exhibit it 
 in every other direction, as well as in that of music. There 
 will be a pleasing concord and consentaneousness in all his 
 thoughts, words, and actions. As the sound of music enables 
 him to walk in a sustained and regular step over uneven 
 ground, so will the moral harmony of his nature, responding 
 to the unheard music of the spheres, or in other words, to the 
 voice of God, speaking by his revelations, empower him to 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 139 
 
 pursue the right way with a steady and orderly step, amid all 
 the quicksands and inequalities of his life's pilgrimage. 
 
 HEAD — A bulbous excrescence, of special use to many as 
 a peg for hanging a hat on — as a barber's block for supporting 
 wigs — as a target for shooting at when rendered conspicuous 
 by a shining helmet — as a snuff-box or a chatter-box — as a 
 machine for fitting into a halter or guillotine — as a receptacle 
 for freaks, fancies, follies, passions, prejudices, predilections — ■ 
 for any thing, in short, but brains. 
 
 Human heads are like hogsheads — the less they contain, the 
 louder the report they give of themselves. The smaller the 
 calibre of the mind, the greater the bore of a perpetually open 
 mouth. 
 
 HEALTH — See Temperance, Exercise, and Virtue as often 
 as you can, and the doctor as seldom as you can. The mind's 
 health is the best security for that of the body — Qui medicd 
 vivit misere vivit. 
 
 As to taking care of your precious health, Hood says : 
 don't cure or smoke dry it, or pickle it in everlasting acids, 
 like the Germans; don't bury it in a potato pit, like the 
 Irish ; don't preserve it in spirits, like the Barbadians ; don't 
 salt it down, like the Newfoundlanders ; don't bottle it, like 
 gooseberries ; don't pot it, and donH hang it. A rope is a bad 
 Cordon Sanitaire. Above all, don't despond about it. Con- 
 sider your health as your best friend, and think as well of it, 
 in spite of all its foibles, as you can. Never fancy, every time 
 you cough, you are going to coughy pot. Hold up, as the 
 shooter says, over the heaviest ground. Despondency, in a 
 nice case, is the overweight that may make you kick the 
 beam and the bucket at once. And bear in mind that, " a 
 single ourst with mirth is worth a whole season of full cries 
 with melancholy." 
 
 HEAET — According to a French author, those men pass 
 the most comfortably through the world, who have a good 
 digestion and a hard heart ; the former preserving them from 
 
140 THE TIN TEUMPET. 
 
 all the annoyances of dyspepsia, and the latter from those 
 painful feelings to which the compassionate and the sympa- 
 thizing are perpetually subject. Such a man, indeed, may 
 have fewer pains, bnt can he enjoy any pleasure, except the 
 vulgar ones of sense ? He that possesses a susceptible heart, has 
 an inexhaustible mine of sweet emotions. Let him cherish its 
 tenderness, and guard, above all things, against those outpour- 
 ings of envy or uncharitableness, which inevitably harden the 
 heart, as the foam exuded by testaceous animals encrusts into 
 shell. 
 
 HETERODOXY— is another man's doxy— whereas Ortho- 
 doxy is a man's own doxy. The definition is an old one, but 
 it might be difficult to give a new one which should be more 
 accurate. Sales defines heresy and schism as religious scare- 
 crows : — they might be efficient ones formerly, but now-a-days 
 they will scare few birds except gulls and dotterels. 
 
 HINT — A jog on the mental elbow. — Lord M., a Scottish 
 judge, well known for his penurious habits, being compelled 
 to give a dinner to the barristers upon circuit, and having 
 neglected to order any claret, with which they had been ac- 
 customed to be regaled on such occasions, Harry Erskine 
 endeavored by several oblique hints to make him sensible of 
 the omission. His lordship, however, who had an acute mis- 
 apprehension where his pocket was in danger, affected to 
 receive all these innuendoes in a different sense, and at length, 
 seeking to turn the conversation to the war in which we were 
 then engaged, abruptly exclaimed, "I wonder what has be- 
 come of the French fleet ? " — " Just at present, my lord," 
 replied his waggish persecutor, "I believe it is, like ourselves, 
 confined to port ! " 
 
 A sportsman, who during the shooting season had gone to 
 pass a week with his friend in the country, on the strength of 
 a general invitation, soon found, by a gentle hint, that he 
 would have done better to wait for a special one. " I saw 
 some beautiful scenery," was the visitor's first remark, — " as I 
 came to-day by the upper road." " You will see some still 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 141 
 
 finer," was the reply, " as you go back to-morrow by the 
 lower one." 
 
 HISTORY — The Newgate calendar of kings and rulers, 
 which finds no materials in the happiness or virtue of states, 
 and is therefore little better than a record of human crime and 
 misery. It may be doubted whether we should tempt chil- 
 dren to become misanthropes, by perusing it too early. At a 
 more mature age they may beneficially distinguish the momen- 
 tary triumph of crime, from the eternal lot of virtue. To form 
 an opinion of human nature from a perusal of history, is like 
 judging of a fine city by its sewers and cess-pools. 
 
 HOLIDAYS — The Elysium of our boyhood ; perhaps the 
 only one of our life. Of this truth Anaxagoras seems to have 
 been aware. Being asked by the people of Lampsacus, before 
 his death, whether he wished to have any thing done in com- 
 memoration of him, — "Yes," he replied; "let the boys be 
 allowed to play on the anniversary of my death." " Men are 
 but children of a larger growth," and, in this working-day 
 country, where we have neither half holidays enough, nor 
 even enough half-holidays, it might be well if some patriot 
 would bequeath to the whole laboring community a legacy 
 similar to that of Anaxagoras. 
 
 HONESTY — It is pleasant to loll and roll, and to accumu- 
 late — to be a purple and fine linen man, and to be called by 
 some of those nicknames which frail and ephemeral beings are 
 so fond of accumulating upon each other ; — but the best thing 
 of all is to live like honest men, and to add something to the 
 cause of liberality, justice, and truth. 
 
 HOPE — though sometimes little better than the deferring 
 of disappointment, is, nevertheless, a compensation for many of 
 life's painful realities. Its fruition terminates its enjoyment ; 
 but why should we complain that expectation renders us more 
 happy than possession, since the former is a long-enduring 
 pleasure, and the latter only a brief regret ? A presentiment 
 
142 THE TIN TETTMPET. 
 
 of coming gladness is the summit of terrestrial felicity. Hope, 
 however, is a better dependence, at» the outset, than at the 
 close of our career. To use the language of Lord Bacon, it is 
 a good breakfast but an idle supper. 
 
 All wings — like a cherub, Hope builds upon nothing, floats, 
 self-supported, like the clouds, catching every flitting ray of 
 the sun, and can raise itself to heaven, even by clinging to a film 
 or gossamer. If there be any truth in the poet's averment, 
 that 
 
 " Hope springs eternal in the human breast," 
 
 who shall say that man is unhappy ? 
 
 HOESE — An article in the sale of which you may cheat 
 your own father without any imputation upon your honesty, 
 or your sense of filial duty. Dr. Burnet, having good reason 
 for disposing of his nag, got upon its back, and rode it up and 
 down, without succeeding, however, in concealing its defects. 
 ' ; My good doctor," said the expected purchaser, "when you 
 want to take me in, you should mount a pulpit, not a horse." 
 
 HOUE-GLASS — Every thing, we are told, has its hour, 
 and an hour-glass offers no exception to the rule ; its period 
 of utility is but a short one. The sands gradually wear and 
 file away the aperture through which they pass, at the same 
 time that they themselves are constantly diminishing their 
 particles by friction and collision, so that they flow faster and 
 faster through the enlarged opening, and the machine, turn it 
 which way you will, becomes deranged and useless. So it is 
 with the state machine ; by struggling against the restraints 
 of the monarchical or oligarchical principle, the people do but 
 too often enlarge and extend its capacity, while they weaken 
 and wear out themselves, until the proper and useful balance 
 between the two is entirely destroyed. All governments, 
 therefore, however well poised at first, have as constant a ten- 
 dency towards derangement as the hour-glass. The balance 
 may be restored in either case, by diminishing the power that 
 has been enlarged, and extending that which has been lessened 
 in the wear and tear of years — this is Eeform. Or you may 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 143 
 
 wait till the machine is obliged to be turned topsy-turvy and 
 thrown into total disorder, or dashed to pieces — this is Bevo- 
 lution. 
 
 HOUSEKEEPING — Beguxar. When Sheridan, by the as- 
 sistance of his friends, was installed in a house in Saville Eow, 
 he boasted to one of his relations how comfortably and regu- 
 larly he was living, so much so, that every thing went on like 
 clock-work. — " That I can easily believe," was the reply, " it 
 goes on by tick ! tick ! tick !" 
 
 HUMANITY — is much more shown in our conduct to- 
 wards animals, where we are irresponsible, except to heaven, 
 than towards our fellow-creatures, where we are restrained by 
 the laws, by public opinion, and by fear of retaliation. The 
 more defenceless and humble the creature, the greater is the 
 merit of treating it kindly, since our tenderness must spring 
 from a high principle or a feeling heart. Show me the man 
 that is a lover of animals, and I will answer for his philan- 
 thropy. 
 
 How refined and considerate was the humanity of the mas- 
 ter butcher, who, in defending his drover for inflicting a tre- 
 mendous blow upon the eye of an ox, exclaimed, " What harm 
 could he do by striking the beast over the head, where it does 
 not injure the meat ? " 
 
 HUMAN" NATURE — " crops out " in various directions, 
 and sometimes in most unexpected ways. 
 
 Southey used to say that " the moment any thing assumed 
 the shape Of a duty, Coleridge felt himself incapable of dis- 
 charging it." 
 
 Then there was Lady Cork, of whom Sydney Smith told 
 that she was so deeply moved at a charity sermon that she 
 borrowed a guinea of a neighbor to put into the plate. She 
 had a constitutional proclivity to appropriate trifles in the 
 houses of her friends. " Don't leave those things about so, 
 my dear," she used to say, " or I shall steal them." 
 
144 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 HUMILITY — The best evidence of real religion, as arro- 
 gance, self-conceit, and pretension, are the infallible criteria of 
 a Pharisaical devotion. 
 
 As the best laden branches bend 
 
 To earth with an augmented press, 
 So do the fruits of virtue tend 
 
 To bow our hearts in humbleness ; 
 While the vain Pharisee, inflate 
 With all the puff 'd and windy state, 
 
 That owes to emptiness its birth, 
 Like a balloon, a void inside, 
 Without — all varnish, pomp, and pride, 
 Only seeks Heaven to be descried, 
 
 Admired and gazed at from the earth, — 
 What though the sound and sane Divine 
 
 Neglected lives, forgotten dies, 
 While sects and devotees combine 
 
 To puff some bigot to the skies ; 
 A diamond's still a precious stone 
 
 Although upon a dunghill cast, 
 And worthless dust, though upwards blown, 
 
 Eetains its vileness to the last. 
 
 That false humility, which only stoops to conquer, and 
 prostrates itself that it may rise with the more certainty, may 
 be compared to bottled beer, which is laid flat in order that it 
 may get up. As the soil which is richest in precious ores, 
 generally presents the most barren surface, so genuine humil- 
 ity, proud of nothing but the consciousness of virtue, " Dis- 
 dains to wear the prize she loves to win." 
 
 HUNGER — That which gives the poor man his health 
 and his appetite, and the want of which often afflicts the rich 
 with satiety and disease. 
 
 HYPOCHONDRIA— The imaginary malady with which 
 those are taxed who have no real one. 
 
 HYPOCRISY — may assume the mask of vice as well as of 
 virtue. Such is the vanity of some men, that they would 
 rather be notorious, and even infamous, than unnoticed. Lord 
 Byron sometimes pretended to be more profligate than he 
 really was, in order, as he affirmed, that he might ingratiate 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 145 
 
 himself with the women! Satirizing the sex is, generally, 
 spitting against the wind, which blows back in our own face 
 what we vainly spirt forth against it. It has been said of 
 hypocrites, that they go to the Devil's abode by the road of 
 Paradise ; but this, at all events, evinces a better taste than 
 to journey towards the same destination by the most revolting 
 road that can be selected. If it gives us a more favorable 
 opinion of the Devil, to believe that he is not so black as he is 
 painted by others, it should deepen our contempt for certain 
 pseudo-human devils, when we learn that they are not so 
 black as they paint themselves. 
 
 There is much hypocrisy in affecting to give up the pleas- 
 ures of the world, from religious motives, when we only with- 
 draw from it because we find a greater gratification in the 
 pleasures of retirement. 
 
 " My dear children," said an old rat to his young ones, 
 " the infirmities of age are pressing so heavily upon me, that 
 I have determined to dedicate the short remainder of my days 
 to mortification and penance, in a narrow and lonely hole 
 which I have lately discovered : but let me not interfere with 
 your enjoyments ; youth is the season for pleasure ; be happy, 
 therefore, and only obey my last injunction — never to come 
 near me in my retreat. God bless you all ! " Deeply affected, 
 snivelling audibly, and wiping his paternal eyes with his tail, 
 the old rat withdrew, and was seen no more for several days, 
 when his youngest daughter, moved rather by filial affection, 
 than by that curiosity which has been attributed to the sex, 
 stole to his cell of mortification, which turned out to be a hole, 
 made by his own teeth, in — an enormous Cheshire cheese ! 
 
 IDLENESS — Hard work for those who are not used to it, 
 and dull work for those who are. Idleness is a moral leprosy, 
 which soon eats its way into our heart and corrodes our hap- 
 piness, while it undermines our health. Nothing is so hard to 
 do, as to do nothing. The hypochondriacal Countess, who 
 " envies every cinder-wench she sees, 1 ' is much more to be 
 pitied than the toiling drudge, who " sighs for luxury and 
 ease." 
 
 7 
 
146 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 Idleness is costly without being a luxury. Montaigne 
 always wound up the year's account of his expenses with the 
 following entry : " Item — for my abominable habit of idleness 
 — a thousand livres." 
 
 Idlers may deserve our compassion, but few things are 
 more misplaced than the contempt lavished upon them as use- 
 less members of society ; sometimes such scorn is only masked 
 envy ; where it is real, it is wrong, All rich idlers may be 
 termed the representatives of former industry and talent ; they 
 must either have achieved independence by their own exer- 
 tions or by those of their ancestors, for almost all wealth can 
 be traced back to labor, or genius, or merit of some sort. 
 And why do the revilers of the idle, labor and toil with such 
 perseverance ? — that they may imitate those whom they 
 abuse, by acquiring an independence and becoming themselves 
 idle. The sight of luxurious ease is the best stimulus to exer- 
 tion. To suppose that the pleasure of overtaking is greater 
 than that of pursuing the game, may be a mistake, but it is a 
 beneficial one, and keeps society from stagnating. Eich idlers 
 are the advancers of civilization, the best encouragers of in- 
 dustry — the surest patrons of literature and the arts. Nor is 
 there any thing invidious in their good fortune, for every one 
 may aspire to rival or surpass it, which is not the case with he- 
 reditary distinctions. 
 
 We toil for leisure only to discover, when we have suc- 
 ceeded in our object, that leisure is a great toil. How quickly 
 would the working-classes be reconciled to what they term 
 the curse of compulsory occupation, if they were doomed, only 
 for a short time, to the greater curse of compulsory idleness ! 
 Quickly would they find, that it is much better to wear out 
 than to rust out. 
 
 IDOL — What many worship in their own shape, who 
 would be ashamed to do so in any other. 
 
 IMAGINATION — Deeams of — An atonemnet for the mis- 
 eries of reality. Philosophers in all ages have delighted in 
 appealing from this incorrigible world to a creation of their 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 147 
 
 own, where all the evils to which mankind are subjected, 
 should be rectified or mitigated. It was with this feeling that 
 Plato, after the death of Socrates, wrote his Atlantis. Tacitus, 
 shocked at the profligacy and subjection of his countrymen, 
 endeavored to shame them by holding up to their imitation 
 the wisdom, virtue, and liberty of the German forests. Sir 
 Thomas More transported himself from the tyranny of Henry 
 VIII. into Utopia. Harrington established the republican 
 government, for which he panted, in his Oceana ; and Mon- 
 tesquieu developed his own benevolent views in his fabulous 
 history of the Troglodytes. 
 
 IMPBESSIONS — First — are sometimes involuntarily be- 
 trayed. Much of the spectator's mind may be gathered by 
 his almost unconscious exclamation when he encounters any 
 novel and striking sight, or is thrown into strange and unex- 
 pected situations, which have as sure an effect as wine, in 
 eliciting the truth. Eunning against a surprise, is like running 
 against a post, — it forces the breath out of your mouth, before 
 you have time to consider how you shall modulate it. Pope, 
 the actor, who was a great epicure, ejaculated in a transport, 
 on his first catching the prospect from Eichmond Hill — " A 
 perfect hauch by heaven !" One of the French Savans, after 
 risking his life in penetrating into the square chamber of the 
 great Egyptian pyramid, had no sooner ascertained its dimen- 
 sions, by holding up his torch, than he cried to his compan- 
 ion. — "Quel emplacement pour un Billard ! " — " "What a place 
 for a billiard table." 
 
 IMMOET ALITY — of modern authors — Drawing in imagi- 
 nation upon the future, for that homage which the present 
 refuses to pay : — at best a protracted oblivion. A poet, how- 
 ever illustrious in his day, is like the statue set up by Nebu- 
 chadnezzar, the feet of which were of clay. A living language 
 is a painting, perpetually changing color, and then perishing ; 
 a dead one is as a marble statue— always the same. Even this 
 distant reversion of fame is denied to a modern, for there is 
 little chance that the English tongue of the nineteenth century 
 
148 THE TLN" TRUMPET. 
 
 should live as a dead language after it is dead as a living one. 
 Some vainglorious author boasted that his poems would he 
 read when those of Pope and Dryden were forgotten. * " But 
 not till then," added a bystander. 
 
 INDIGESTION— INDUSTKY— Two things which were 
 never before found united. 
 
 INCONSISTENCY— the only thing in which men are 
 consistent. "We are certainly compounded of two contrary 
 natures, impelling us, under different circumstances and in- 
 fluences, to actions apparently irreconcilable. To this must it 
 be attributed that the gravest and most saturine, will some- 
 times indulge in fits of jocularity, a fact which T. II. would 
 otherwise explain, but in my opinion with too strict a leaning 
 towards anatomy, by referring it to man's possessing a funny 
 bone and an os humerus. The stupidest person I ever knew, 
 a mere sensualist, a gourmand, and a gourmet, composed one 
 of the prettiest little poems I ever read. Scaliger said that he 
 would rather have written Horace's Ode — " Quern tu, Mel- 
 pomene,'''' than be made King of Arragon ; and for my own 
 part, I would rather have indited the following stanzas, than 
 be promoted to the Laureatship ! 
 
 That my friend, a dull, plodding fellow, whose great busi- 
 ness it had hitherto been to eat, drink, and sleep, should spread 
 his fancy's wings, and indulge in a poetical flight, is perhaps 
 less marvellous, than that the first and only essay of his muse, 
 should exhibit a tenderness so touching, combined with aspira- 
 tions so delicate and ethereal. But we must not tantalize the 
 reader by withholding from him any longer our author's 
 
 LOVE SONG. 
 
 What mistress half so dear as mine, 
 
 Half so well dress'd, so pungent, fragrant, 
 Who can such attributes combine, 
 
 To charm the constant, fix the vagrant ? 
 Who can display such varied arts, 
 
 To suit the taste of saint and sinner, 
 Who go so near to touch their hearts, 
 
 As thou, my darling, dainty dinner ? 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 149 
 
 Still my breast owns a rival queen, 
 
 A bright-eyed nymph, of sloping shoulders, 
 Whose ruddy cheeks and graceful mien, 
 
 Entrance the sense of all beholders. 
 Oh ! when thy lips to mine are press'd, 
 
 "What transports titillate my throttle ! 
 My love can find new life and rest, 
 
 In thee, and thee alone, my bottle ! 
 
 INDEPENDENCE— The boast of— is a trait of vulgarity, 
 and sometimes of insincerity, since professors are not always 
 performers. In reality we are all more independent than is 
 generally imagined, for the whole world can neither take from 
 us what nature has given, nor give us what nature has denied. 
 
 INFERIOES — A term which we are ever ready to apply 
 to those beneath us in station, without considering whether it 
 be applicable in any other sense. Many men may be our 
 superiors without being our equals ; and many may be our 
 nominal inferiors to whom we are by no means equal. 
 
 Inferiority, in others, whether of rank, fortune, or talent, 
 never offends, because it conveys a silent homage to our self- 
 love. This is the secret of condescension in the great. 
 
 INNOVATION — The unanswerable objection urged 
 against all improvement. We have already quoted the dic- 
 tum of Bacon — that a froward retention of custom is as turbu- 
 lent a thing as an innovation. This was not the opinion of 
 Ignatius Loyola, who, in order to avoid any innovation in the 
 shape of his boot, after having fractured his leg, ordered a 
 considerable part of the bone to be sawed off, thus proving 
 himself to be a conservative of the true discriminating stamp. 
 To say that all new things are bad, is to say that old things 
 were bad in their commencement, for the most ancient were 
 once new ; and whatever is now most firmly established was 
 once innovation, not even excepting Christianity itself. 
 
 INQUISITIVENESS— An itch for prying into other peo- 
 ple's affairs, to the neglect of our own ; — an ignorant hanker- 
 ing after all such knowledge as is not worth knowing; — a 
 
150 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 curiosity to learn things that are not all curious. People of 
 this stamp would rather be put to the question, than not ask 
 questions; silence is torture to them. A genuine quidnunc 
 prefers false news to none ; he piques himself upon having 
 the very first information of things that never happened. It 
 is supposed that the Americans have attained the greatest art 
 in parrying inquisitiveness, because they are more exposed to 
 it ; but a well-known cockney wag, at a late period of political 
 excitement, maintained a defensive colloquy with a rustic in- 
 quisitive, which could hardly have been excelled by any Yankee 
 performer. In travelling post, he was obliged to stop at a vil- 
 lage to replace a horse's shoe, when the Paul Pry of the place 
 bustled up to the carriage window, and, without waiting for 
 the ceremony of introduction, exclaimed — " Good morning, 
 Sir ! — horse cast a shoe, I see — I suppose, Sir, you be going 
 to — " Here he paused, expecting the name of the place to be 
 supplied; but the citizen answered — "You are quite right, 
 Sir ; I generally go there at this season." " Ay — hum — do 
 ye ? — and no doubt you be come now from — " — " Eight again, 
 Sir ; I live there." " Oh, ay, do ye ? But I see it be a Lon- 
 don shay ; pray, Sir, is there any thing stirring in London ? " 
 " Yes ; plenty of other chaises, and carriages of all sorts." 
 " Ay, ay, of course ; but what do folks say ? " " Their pray- 
 ers every Sunday." " That is not what I mean ; I wish to 
 know whether there is any thing new and fresh ? " " Yes, 
 bread and herrings." " Anan ! you be a queer chap. Pray, 
 Muster, may I ask your name ? " " Fools and clowns call me 
 4 muster,' but I am, in reality, one of the frogs of Aristophanes, 
 and my genuine name is Brekekekex Koax. Drive on, postil- 
 
 HSTSTINCT — Animal — The exertion of mental power, 
 without the exercise of reason or deliberation : — the implanted 
 principle that determines the will of brutes, and is generally 
 limited to the great objects of nature — self-preservation, the 
 procurement of food, and the continuance of the species. An 
 intelligent being, having a motive in view for the performance 
 of any particular operation, will set about it either similarly 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 151 
 
 to others, or in a different mode, according to circumstances, 
 Ms views and powers of action being almost infinitely varied ; 
 bnt irrational beings never deviate from the instincts with 
 which they are born, and which are adapted to their particu- 
 lar economy. Hence, animals are stationary, while man is 
 progressive. Beavers construct their habitations, birds their 
 nests, bees their hive, and the spider its web, with an admira- 
 ble ingenuity ; but the most sagacious of them cannot apply 
 their skill to purposes beyond the sphere of their particular 
 wants, nor do any of them improve, in the smallest degree, on 
 their predecessors. Exactly as they respectively built at the 
 time of creation, so will they continue to build until the end 
 of the world. To illustrate the contrary tendency, and the 
 progressiveness of man in his habitations, we should compare 
 a Hottentot's kraal with St. Peter's or St. Paul's. 
 
 Among the peculiarities of instinct, an investigating phi- 
 osopher has discovered this, that no horse ever yet found a 
 mare's nest : that discovery can only be made by a jackass. 
 
 INSTINCTS — Human — Natural prejudices, to reject the 
 influence of which, in the education of youth, is, itself, one of 
 the most unreasonable of prejudices. " Why should we scru- 
 ple," asks Mrs. Barbauld, " to lead a child to right opinions, 
 in the same way by which nature leads him to right practices ? 
 He may be left to find out that mustard will bite his tongue, 
 but he must be prejudiced against ratsbane." 
 
 INSTITUTIONS— must be fitted to the different ages of 
 the world's mind, just as his clothes are altered and adjusted 
 to the different ages of an individual's body. When we have 
 outgrown either, they should be cast aside ; unless we wish 
 our movements to be cramped, or that which restrains them 
 to be violently rent asunder. 
 
 Institutions may be compared to certain fruits ; when un- 
 ripe, no storm disturbs them; when ripe, a puff will blow 
 them down. 
 
 INTOLERANCE— Being irreligious for the sake of reli- 
 gion, and hating our fellow-creatres, out of a pretended love 
 
152 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 for their Creator. Intolerance has more lives than a cat : you 
 cannot even starve it to death. Deprive its right hand of its 
 cunning, by taking away the sword wherewith it smote infi- 
 dels ; its nostrils of the soul-rejoicing odor of a roasting here- 
 tic ; its ears of the delightful groans of imprisoned or tormented 
 non-conformists ; it will still pick up its crumbs of comfort, 
 and contrive to subsist upon the remaining modicum of reli- 
 gious pains and penalties, or of legal punishments for the free- 
 dom of opinion. And while thus employed, the fiend Intol- 
 erance boasts of her godlike qualities, and especially of her mar- 
 vellous liberality. Supported by jails and judges, she employs 
 the sword of law (not justice) to clip the wings of thought, and 
 then complacently exclaims to her mutilated victim — " Behold ! 
 you are free as the air — you may fly whithersoever you please : 
 who so liberal, so generous, so tolerant as I? " 
 
 INNUEKDO — Condemning by insinuation. In the Irish 
 House of Commons, before the Union, Mr. Grattan thus at- 
 tacked Mr. Corrie : "I will not call him villain, because he is 
 Chancellor of the Exchequer ; I will not call him liar, because 
 he is a privy counsellor ; but I will say of him that he is one 
 who has taken advantage of the privilege of this House to utter 
 language to which in any other place, my answer would have 
 been a blow." The result of which was, of course, a duel. 
 
 There was nothing like innuendo in the remark of an out- 
 spoken member of a "Western Legislature: "Mr. Speaker," 
 said he, "I would like to know how long that blackguard is 
 to go on boring me to death with his speech ? " 
 
 IRISH WIT — is ready wit. Various phases of it are re- 
 corded as follows by a traveller. 
 
 When I heard a grave gentleman-like man, at the Bally- 
 brogue Station of the Great Punster Railway, say to a friend, 
 who asked him how he should spend the half-hour he would 
 have to wait, that he should spend it thinking of all the kind 
 things he (the friend) had been saying to him, I said, " The 
 Irish are a polite people." 
 
 When I saw, at a Dublin theatre, the whole house to a man 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 153 
 
 get on their legs, and howl at the manager because he wouldn't 
 introduce a national jig in the middle of La Sonnambula, I 
 said, " The Irish are an excitable people" 
 
 When a Killarney guide swore to me on the tomb of his 
 grandmother that there was a small lake up in Mullacap, coun- 
 ty Kerry, which contained a giant eel, that swam twice round 
 the inclosure every day at two o'clock, with a pan of old gould 
 tied to his tail, I said, " The Irish are a superstitious people." 
 
 "When a Tipperary landlord, in a Galway railway carriage, 
 told me he was surnamed "the Woodcock," because he had 
 been shot at so often by the " noblest tinantry " and missed, 
 I said, " The Irish area revengeful people." 
 
 When I saw my friend Mike Eooney's best blue breeches 
 stuffed into his window to keep out the rain, I said, " The Irish 
 are a thoughtless people." 
 
 And lastly, when I refused the beggar-woman at Castlebar 
 a half-penny, and she ironically hoped " the Lord would make 
 my bed that night in heaven," I said, " The Irish are a witty 
 people" 
 
 IVY — A vegetable corruptionist, which for the purpose of 
 its own support, attaches itself, with the greatest tenacity, to 
 that which is the most antiquated and untenable, and the full- 
 est of holes, flaws, and imperfections. 
 
 JEALOUSY — Tormenting yourself, for fear you should be 
 tormented by another. "Why," asks Eochefoucauld, "does 
 not jealousy, which is born with love, always die with it ?" 
 He would have found an answer to this question, had he re- 
 flected that self-love never dies. Jealousy is the greatest of 
 misfortunes, and excites the least pity. 
 
 JOKES — The cayenne of conversation, and the salt of life. 
 " A joke's prosperity," says Shakespeare, " lies in the ear of 
 the hearer ; " and indeed it is sometimes exceedingly difficult 
 to pronounce whether it be a good one or a bad one, risibly 
 speaking, for a don mot may be too witty to be pleasant, or at 
 least to elicit laughter ; while a poor pleasantry, by the help 
 
154 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 of some ludicrous turn, or expression, or association of ideas, 
 may provoke cachinnation, a gorge deployee. Nay, there are 
 cases in which a joke becomes positively good from its being 
 so intolerably bad, and is applauded, in the inverse ratio of its 
 merit, as the greatest honors are sometimes showered upon 
 men who have the least honor. The admiration excited by 
 the highest order of wit is generally serious, because it sets us 
 thinking. It was said of a crafty Israelite, who deserted the 
 Hebrew faith, without embracing that of the Christians, and 
 yet endeavored to make both parties subservient to his selfish 
 views, that he resembled the blank leaf between the Old and 
 New Testament, belonging to neither, and making a cover of 
 both. No one would laugh at this ; it is exactly that descrip- 
 tion of wit which has been defined " an unexpected association 
 of apparently dissimilar ideas, exciting pleasure and surprise." 
 Lord Byron was once asked by a friend, in the green room of 
 Drury Lane Theatre, whether he did not think Miss Kelly's 
 acting in the " Maid and the Magpie " exceedingly natural ? — ■ 
 " I really cannot say," replied his lordship ; "I was never 
 innocent of stealing a silver spoon." This is drollery rather 
 than wit, and excites our laughter, without claiming any por- 
 tion of our admiration. 
 
 One of our poets, a remarkably cadaverous-looking man, 
 recited a poem, descriptive of a country walk, in which the 
 following couplet occurred : — 
 
 " The redbreast, with his furtive glance, 
 Comes and looks at me askance ; " — 
 
 upon which a wag exclaimed — " Gad ! if it had been a car- 
 rion-crow, he would have stared you full in the face ; " a re- 
 mark so humorous and unexpected, that it was received with 
 a unanimous shout of laughter. Here the absurdity of the 
 idea, if it did not amount to wit, was something better, or, at 
 all events, more stimulative of the risible faculties. 
 
 JUDGMENT — A faculty of which very few people have 
 enough to discover that they want more. In forming a judg- 
 ment of each other, the sexes usually proceed upon the falsest 
 and most deceitful grounds. If a woman be struck by a man's 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 155 
 
 exterior, she invariably thinks well of his morals and his tal- 
 ents : gain her love, and yon secure her esteem ; she judges 
 of every thing by the impression made upon herself, and in 
 the credulity that prompts her to believe what she wishes, is 
 easily led away by her confiding and affectionate nature. 
 Men, sexually speaking, are still more blind and rash in their 
 judgment, or, rather, in their total want of it. If they are 
 smitten by a pretty face, they inquire no further, and ask but 
 one question — Will you have me ? They marry the face, of 
 which the beauty is to last, perhaps, for one year only — at 
 most for ten, — and they know little or nothing of the mind 
 with which they are to be associated until death. In balanc- 
 ing the respective motives of the sexes, the advantage is, as 
 usual, all on the side of the females. Both are precipitate, 
 and both wrong ; but women are misled by their trust and 
 their affections, while men fall into the same error from the 
 influence of their passions, and their senses. If any of my 
 male readers doubt this judgment, let them doubt their own. 
 
 KING — According to the doctrine of despots and their 
 worshippers, the hereditary proprietor of a nation ; — accord- 
 ing to reason, its accountable first magistrate. Monarchs are 
 the spoilt children of fortune ; and, like the juveoile members 
 of the class, are often wayward, peevish, and ill at ease. We 
 talk of being " as happy as a king ; " but which of us is not 
 happier, — at least, in love and friendship, the great sweeteners 
 of life ? There is no courtship in courts. A king goes a woo- 
 ing in the person of his privy counsellors ; marries one whom 
 he never saw, in order to please the nation, of which he is the 
 ruler, only to be its slave ; and is generally cut off from those 
 domestic enjoyments that constitute the highest charm of 
 existence. Friendship cannot offer him a substitute, for 
 equality is its basis ; and he who wears a crown is at once 
 prevented by station, and prohibited by etiquette, from indulg- 
 ing in any communion of hearts. Truly he ought to be ex- 
 empted from all other taxes, since he pays quite enough for 
 his painful pre-eminence. 
 
 A wise man, however well qualified to shine in courts, will 
 
156 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 seldom desire to share their dangerous splendor. Diogenes, 
 while he was washing cabbages, seeing Aristippns approach, 
 cried out to him — " If you knew how to live upon cabbages, 
 you would not be paying court to a tyrant." — " If you knew 
 how to live with kings," replied Aristippns, " you would not be 
 washing cabbages." 
 
 " Of all kinds of men," says a French writer, " God is least 
 beholden to kings ; for he does the most for them, and they 
 the least for him." And yet the patriot king, who confers 
 happiness upon a whole nation, must render a more acceptable 
 service to the Deity than any other mortal can proffer. 
 
 KISSES — admit of a greater variety of character than per- 
 haps even my female readers are aware, or that Joannes 
 Secundus has recorded. Eight basial diversities are mentioned 
 in Scripture ; viz. — The kiss of 
 
 Salutation, . . Sam. xx. 41. 1 Thess. v. 26. 
 
 Valediction, . . Kuth ii. 9. 
 
 ^Reconciliation, . 2 Sam. xiv. 33. 
 
 Subjection, . . Psalms ii. 12. 
 
 Approbation, . . Proverbs ii. 4. 
 
 Adoration, . . 1 Kings xix. 18. 
 
 Treachery, . . Matt. xxvi. 49. 
 
 Affection, . . Gen. xlv. 15. 
 
 But the most honorable kiss, both to the giver and receiver, 
 was that which Queen Margaret of Prance, in the presence of 
 the whole court, impressed upon the lips of the ugliest man in 
 the kingdom, Alain Chartier, whom she one day found asleep, 
 exclaiming to her astonished attendants — " I do not kiss the 
 man, but the mouth that has uttered so many charming 
 things." Ah ! it was worth while to be a poet in those days. 
 
 KITCHEN — The burial-place of the epicure's health and 
 fortune. — " What a small kitchen ! " exclaimed Queen Eliza- 
 beth, after going over a handsome mansion. — " It is by having 
 so small a kitchen, that I am enabled to keep so large a house," 
 replied its owner. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 157 
 
 KNOWLEDGE — A molehill removed from the mountain 
 of our ignorance. "Where shall we discover a finer illustration 
 of disinterestedness than the outcry raised against the taxes 
 
 on knowledge by Alderman , who can never be affected 
 
 by the impost. 
 
 A knowledge of useful things, of which others are ignorant, 
 is never considered an excuse for an ignorance of trifles that 
 are generally known. 
 
 After a scholar has attained a certain age, no knowledge 
 that you can let in upon his mind will do him any harm. 
 Cattle may be admitted into an orchard, to graze it after the 
 trees are grown up, but not when they are young. 
 
 " What is the use of so much knowledge ? " asks Sydney 
 Smith, — " what is the use of so much life ? — what are we to do 
 with the seventy years of existence allotted to us ? — and how 
 are we to live them out to the last ? I solemnly declare that, 
 but for the love of knowledge, I should consider the life of the 
 meanest hedger and ditcher, as preferable to that of the great- 
 est and richest man ! for the fire of our minds is like the fire 
 which the Persians burn in the mountains, — it flames night 
 and day, and is immortal, and not to be quenched ! Upon 
 something it must act and feed, — upon the pure spirit of 
 knowledge, or upon the foul dregs of polluting passions. 
 Therefore, when I say, in conducting your understanding, love 
 knowledge with a great love, with a vehement love, with a 
 love coeval with life, what do I say, but love innocence, — love 
 virtue, — love purity of conduct, — love that which, if you are 
 rich and great, will sanctify the blind fortune which has made 
 you so, and make men call it justice, — love that which, if you 
 are poor, will render your poverty respectable, and make the 
 proudest feel it unjust to laugh at the meanness of your for- 
 tunes." 
 
 KNOWLEDGE— of the world. The fancied wisdom of 
 those whose reflections are created by a mirror. There is a 
 class of persons who think they evince prodigious penetration 
 into the human heart, when they ascribe every action to the 
 worst possible motives, taking it for granted, that all men are 
 
158 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 sordid, profligate, or designing, all women dissipated, thought- 
 less, and inconstant. This misanthropical ignorance they pre- 
 sume to term knowledge of the world. So it may be, but it 
 is of that world only which is comprised in their own persons. 
 
 LAMPS — When these were brought in at night, the 
 ancient Greeks used to salute them with the words Xaipe (fnXcou 
 <pcos — Salve arnica lux ! — The human owls of modern times, 
 when the intellectual light is spreading around them, are so 
 far from hailing it with a blessing, that they retire to their 
 cells and lurking places, and hoot at it as a pestilent innova- 
 tion. "While stabbing at the liberties and happiness of man- 
 kind, they would rather cry out, with Macbeth, — 
 
 " Come, thick night, 
 And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, 
 That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, 
 Nor Heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, 
 To cry, hold! hold!" 
 
 LAWS — When I hear any man talk of an unalterable law, 
 the only effect it produces upon me is to convince me that he 
 is an unalterable fool. 
 
 LANGUAGES — in several instances have derived their 
 names from a single word. Sismondi writing on the literature 
 of the Trouveres, says, " The Provencal was called the Langue 
 d'Oc, and the Wallon the Langue $ Oil, or cTOni, from the 
 affirmative word of each language, as the Italian was then 
 called the Langue de Si, and the German the Langue de Ya." 
 Not only to a whole language, but to a whole life may the 
 word yes give its color and character, as many an unhappy 
 wife has found to her cost. 
 
 Language, which is the uniting bond and the very medium 
 of communion between men, is at the same time by the great 
 variety of tongues, the means of severing and estranging 
 nations more than any thing else. In this respect it may be 
 compared to the Ourang-outang, which, according to the trav- 
 elling showman, "forms the connecting link which separates 
 mankind from the human race." 
 
THE TIN TEUMPET. 159 
 
 A Frenchman studied with infinite pains for several years 
 a language which he supposed to he Swedish. He did not 
 discover, till he had mastered it, that it was Bas Breton. 
 
 LAUGH — A Hoese — The sorry hack upon which buffoons 
 and jesters are fain to ride home, when they want to make a 
 retreat, and are at a loss for any other conveyance. Such 
 Merry Andrews save their credit as the Eomans did their 
 Capitol, by the cackling of geese. To succeed in this object, 
 all expedients are considered fair ; to win the laugh, is to win 
 the battle ; if you cannot, therefore, check-mate your adversary 
 by reasoning, dumb-found him by your superior learning, or 
 surpass him in the brilliancy of your wit, knock him down by a 
 poor pun, the worse the better ; set the example of a hearty 
 laugh, for this is catching, though wit is not, and make your 
 escape while the company are exercising their risible muscles'; 
 they will generally be with you, for they like to see a con- 
 queror capsized. The late Jack Taylor, of pleasant memory, 
 who was no mean proficient in thus turning the tables upon 
 his opponent, when he found himself losing, has recorded one 
 of his exploits. He was rapidly losing ground in a literary 
 discussion, when the opposite party exclaimed, " My good friend, 
 you are not such a rare scholar as you imagine ; you are an 
 every day man." " "Well, and you are a weak one," replied 
 Taylor, who instantly jumped upon the back of a horse laugh, 
 and rode victoriously over his prostrate conqueror. 
 
 LAUGHTER — A faculty bestowed exclusively upon man, 
 and one which there is, therefore, a sort of impiety in not 
 exercising as frequently as we can. We may say with Titus, 
 that we have lost a day if it have passed without laughing. 
 The pilgrims at Mecca consider it so essential a part of their 
 devotion, that they call upon their prophet to preserve them 
 from sad faces. " Ah ! " cried Rabelais, with an honest pride, 
 as his friends were weeping around his death-bed, " if I were 
 to die ten times over, I should never make you cry half so 
 much as I have made you laugh." " Eisu inepto res ineptior 
 nulla est," says an anti-risible reader ; but if laughter be gen- 
 
160 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 nine, and consequently a means of innocent enjoyment, can it 
 be inept ? 
 
 LAWYERS — generally know too mnch of law to have a 
 very clear perception of justice, just as divines are often too 
 deeply read in theology, to appreciate the full grandeur and 
 the proper tendencies of religion. Losing the abstract in the 
 concrete, the comprehensive in the technical, the principal in 
 its accessories, both are in the predicament of the rustic, who 
 could not see London for the houses. It has been invidiously 
 said, that lawyers pass their time in taking advantage of their 
 contemporaries ; but if we may credit the authority of Foote, 
 they sometimes outwit the undertaker even after their death. 
 That facetious person being once summoned into the country, 
 by the relatives of a respectable practitioner, to whom he had 
 been appointed executor, was asked what directions should be 
 given respecting the funeral ? " What may be your practice 
 in the country," said the wag, " I do not exactly know ; but 
 in London, when a lawyer dies, his body is disposed of in a 
 very cheap and simple manner. We lock it up in a room over 
 night, and by the next morning it has always totally disap- 
 peared. Whither it has been conveyed we cannot tell to a 
 certainty ; but there is invariably such a strong smell of brim- 
 stone in the chamber, that we can form a shrewd guess at the 
 character of the conveyancer." 
 
 LEARNING — very often a knowledge of words, and an 
 ignorance of things ; a common act of memory, which may be 
 exercised without common sense. A mere scholar is generally 
 known by his unacquaintance with every thing but languages, 
 which have so filled his head, that they have left room foi 
 nothing else. He mistakes the steps for the temple of Mi- 
 nerva; the shrine for the, goddess herself; and is as proud of 
 his mind's empty purse, as if there were money in it ! Pedan- 
 try's jargon will no more improve our understandings, than 
 the importunate clink of a smoke-jack, will fill our bellies. 
 The elaborate triflings of scholiasts and commentators, the 
 jingling sophistries of logic, and what has been technically 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 161 
 
 termed the learning of the schools, all of which were so many 
 antidotes to sound sense and reflection, may well be thrown 
 overboard, when many a member of our Mechanics' Institutes, 
 possesses useful knowledge that might puzzle a whole convent 
 of college monks. 
 
 Of all learning the most difficult department is to unlearn. 
 Drawing a mistake or prejudice out of the head, is as painful 
 as drawing a tooth, and the patient never thanks the operator 
 for the " demptus per vim mentis gratissimus error.'''' No man 
 likes to admit that his favorite opinion (perhaps the only child 
 of his mind, and cherished accordingly) is an illegitimate one. 
 Sluggish intellects are ever the most obstinate, for that which 
 has cost us much to acquire, it costs us much to give up ; and 
 the older we get, the more tenaciously we cling to our errors, 
 as those weeds are most difficult to eradicate that have had 
 the longest time to root themselves. Harvey could find no 
 physician, turned of forty, who would admit the circulation of 
 the blood. Numbers of these quadragenarian owls are now 
 to be found in every profession, while we have Jesuits enough 
 of all ages, who sigh for the suppressed Inquisition, whenever 
 a political or religious Galileo promulgates any truth that 
 threatens to interfere with established falsehoods. These buz- 
 zards have yet to acquire the most useful of all learning — that 
 of unlearning. 
 
 LIAES — Verbal forgers, stiflers of truth, and murderers of 
 fact. They will sometimes attempt to conceal their failing, 
 by affecting a scrupulous adherence to veracity. B — , who 
 rarely shamed the Devil, once said of his friend, " Jack is a 
 good fellow, but, it must be confessed, he has his failings. I 
 am sorry to say so, but I will not tell a lie for any man. 
 Amicus Jack — sed magis arnica Veritas, — I love my friend, but 
 I love truth still more." " My dear B — , ,: said a bystander, 
 laying his hand upon his shoulder — " I never expected that 
 you would have preferred a perfect stranger to an old ac- 
 quaintance." 
 
 The ci-devant civic dandy, who, from his rising in the east 
 and setting in the west, or, perhaps, from his want of personal 
 
162 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 beauty, quasi lucus a non lucendo, had acquired the nick- 
 name of Apollo, once received a visit from a peer, whose pro- 
 pensity to fibbing is well known. "I find," said his lordship, 
 who is apt to mistake impertinence for jocularity, " that you 
 are going to the fancy ball to-night, and I presume you will 
 appear in the character of Apollo." " I had some such idea," 
 
 replied , " and I am glad your lordship has called, because 
 
 you can now accompany me as my lyre." 
 
 LIBEL — Law of — a libel upon the law. Even under the 
 tyranny of some of the Eoman emperors, there seems to have 
 been a greater latitude of speech and writing than is permitted 
 by the laws of modern England. Adverting to the reigns of 
 Trajan and Aurelius, Tacitus says — " Bara temporum felici- 
 tate, ubi sentire qum velis, et quae sentias dicere licet." " By 
 the rare happiness of those days you might think what you 
 wished, and speak as you thought." 
 
 The law of the navy is more narrowly circumscribed : " You 
 may think what you please ; but must not think too loud ! " 
 
 LIBELLEES — Literary bravos, supported by illiterate 
 cowards. If the receiver of stolen goods be worse than the 
 thief, so must the purchaser of libels be more culpable than 
 their author. As the peruser of a slanderous journal would 
 write what he reads, had he the talent, so the actual maligner 
 would become a malefactor, had he the opportunity and the 
 courage. " Maledicus d malefico nisi occasione, non dijfert," 
 says Quintilian. " He who stabs you in the dark, with a 
 pen, would do the same with- a pen-knife, were he equally safe 
 from detection and the law." 
 
 A libeller's mouth has been compared to that of a volcano 
 — the lighter portions of what it vomits forth are dissipated 
 by the winds ; the heavier ones fall back into the throat 
 whence they were disgorged. The aspersions of libellers may, 
 perhaps, be better compared to fuller's earth, which, though 
 it may seem to dirt you at first, only leaves you more pure 
 and spotless, when it is rubbed off. 
 
THE TIN TEUMPET. 163 
 
 LIBEAET — A precious catacomb, wherein are embalmed 
 and preserved imperishably, the great minds of the dead who 
 will never die. 
 
 " Libraries," says Lord Bacon, " are as the shrines where all 
 the relics of the ancient saints, full of true virtue, and that 
 without delusion or imposture, are preserved and reposed." 
 
 " In the library of the world," says Champfort, " men 
 have hitherto been ranged according to the form, the size, and 
 the binding. The time is coming when they will take rank 
 and order according to their contents and intrinsic merits." 
 
 LIFE — A momentary convulsion between two tranquil eter- 
 nities ; — an avenue to death, as death is the gate that opens to 
 a new and more enduring life. 
 
 It is the activity of the mind, not the functional vitality of 
 the body, that constitutes life. By the enlargement of our 
 ideas, and the general diffusion of knowledge, consequent upon 
 our increased powers of locomotion and comparison, we may 
 condense a whole existence into a narrow compass of time, 
 and enjoy a dozen such lives as were passed by the most 
 enlightened of our ancestors. And yet, doubly precious as 
 this state of being has become, how many are compelled to 
 throw away life for a livelihood, et propter mtam vivendi per- 
 dere causas. Nevertheless, their mere vitality, even in spite 
 of their discontents, is an exhaustible source of gratification, 
 and might be rendered much more so, would they but con- 
 template it in the proper light. " Enjoy thy existence," says 
 Jean Paul Eichter, " more than thy manner of existence, and 
 let the dearest object of thy consciousness be the conscious- 
 ness of life." 
 
 Though nothing is so closely allied as life to death, no two 
 things are so utterly different from each other. 
 
 The ancient Egyptians considered every part of the uni- 
 verse to be endowed with an inherent life, energy, and intelli- 
 gence ; worshipping the active phenomena of nature, without 
 discriminating cause from effect. They believed the elements 
 themselves to be animated ; and why should they not be ? — 
 All of them have motion and a voice — the great constituents 
 
164 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 of vitality ; and, if not themselves alive, they are all instinct 
 with life. 
 
 Life has been compared to tragedy, comedy, and farce. It 
 was reserved for Talleyrand to consider it as a one act piece. 
 " I know not why the world calls me a wicked man," said 
 Eulhiere, "for I never, in the whole conrse of my life, com- 
 mitted more than one act of wickedness." — " But when will 
 this act he at an end ? " asked Talleyrand. 
 
 LIGHT — The new — It was said of Burns, that the light 
 which led him astray, was light from heaven; a false and 
 unguarded assertion, for no light from heaven can ever lead 
 man astray. The spiritual new light is a Jack-o'-lantern, 
 which sometimes lures its followers into quagmires and pit- 
 falls ; or it may be the glitter of gold, and the dazzling lustre 
 of worldly greatness, by which they are lighted to dignities 
 and high places. Of this latter we will cite an instance from 
 the life of Andrew Melville, by Dr. M'Crie : — " When Oowper 
 was made Bishop of Galloway, an old woman, who had been 
 one of his parishioners, and a favorite, could not be persuaded 
 that her minister had deserted the Presbyterian cause. Ee- 
 solved to satisfy herself, she paid him a visit at the Oanongate, 
 where he had his residence, as Dean of the Ghapel Eoyal. 
 The retinue of servants through which she had to pass, stag- 
 gered the good woman's confidence, and being ushered into a 
 room, where the bishop sat, she exclaimed — ' Oh, sir, what's 
 this ? — and ye ha' really left the guid cause, and turned prel- 
 ate ! ' — ' Janet ! ' said the bishop, ' I have got a new light on 
 this subject.' — ' So I see,' replied Janet ; ' for when ye was at 
 Perth, ye had but ae candle, and now ye ha' got twa before 
 ye. — That's your new light.' " 
 
 LIGHT — Like the circulating blood, which returns to the 
 heart, is supposed to return to the sun, after having performed 
 the functions for which it was emitted from that body. Even 
 so will the soul, our intellectual light, return to its divine 
 source, when released from the body, to whose earthly pur- 
 poses it has ministered. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 165 
 
 LITERARY COTERIE— Generally a set of well-dressed 
 prosperous gentlemen, clean, civil personages, well in with 
 people in power, — delighted with every existing institution — 
 and almost with every existing circumstance: — and, every 
 now and then, one of these personages writes a little hook ; — 
 and the rest praise that little book — expecting to he praised, 
 in then* turn, for their own little hooks. 
 
 LITERATI — may be divided into two classes, those who 
 live to study, and those who study to live ; the former, tend- 
 ing to elevate literature, and the latter, to degrade it. The_ 
 first generally survive their own death ; the last often die and 
 are forgotten in their lifetime, for that which is written for. 
 the day must expire with it. 
 
 LITERATURE — Amebican - — "Wits are not always proph- 
 ets, whatever airs to that effect they may assume. Not quite 
 forty years ago Sydney Smith spoke thus of American science 
 and literature : " In the four quarters of the globe, who reads 
 an American book ? or goes to an American play ? or looks 
 at an American picture or statue ? What does the world yet 
 owe to American physicians or surgeons? What new sub- 
 stances have their chemists discovered? or what old ones 
 have they analyzed ? What new constellations have been dis- 
 covered by the telescopes of Americans? What have they 
 done m mathematics ? 
 
 " Literature the Americans have none — no native literature, 
 we mean. It is all imported. They had a Franklin, indeed ; 
 and may afford to live for half a century on his fame. There 
 is, or was, a Mr. D wight, who wrote some poems ; and his 
 baptismal name was Timothy. There is also a small account 
 of Virginia, by Jefferson, and an epic by Joel Barlow ; and 
 some pieces of pleasantry by Mr. Irving. But why should the 
 Americans write books, when a six weeks' passage brings 
 them, in their own tongue, our sense, science, and genius, 
 in bales and hogsheads ? Prairies, steam-boats, grist-mills, are 
 their natural objects for centuries to come. Then, when they 
 have got to the Pacific Ocean, epic poems, plays, pleasures of 
 
166 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 memory, and all the elegant gratifications of an ancient people 
 who have tamed the wild earth, and set down to amuse them- 
 selves. This is the natural march of human affairs." 
 
 LOVER — See Lunatic — A man, who in his anxiety to 
 obtain possession of another, has lost possession of himself. 
 Lovers are seldom tired of one another's society, because they 
 are always speaking of themselves. Let us not, however, dis- 
 parage this fond infatuation, for all its tendencies are elevat- 
 ing. He who has passed through life without ever being in 
 love, has had no spring-time — no summer in his existence ; 
 his heart is as a flowering plant which hath never blown — 
 'never developed itself — never put forth its beauty and its per- 
 fume — never given nor received pleasure. 
 
 The love of our youth, like Kennel coal, is so inflammable, 
 that it may be kindled by almost any match ; but if its tran- 
 sient blaze do not pass away in smoke, its flame, too bright 
 and ardent to last long, soon exhausts and consumes itself. 
 The love of our maturer age is like coke, which, when once 
 ignited, burns with a steady and enduring heat, emitting 
 neither smoke nor flame. 
 
 No wonder that we hear so much of the sorrows of love, 
 for there is a pleasure even in dwelling upon its pains. — Rev- 
 elling in tears, its fire, like that of Naphtha, likes to swim 
 upon water. 
 
 Lovers must not trust too implicitly to their visual organs. 
 A tender swain once reproached his inamorata with suffering 
 a rival to kiss her hand, a fact which she indignantly denied. 
 —"But I saw it:'— "Nay, then," cried the offended fair, "I 
 am now convinced you do not love me, since you believe your 
 eyes in preference to my word." 
 
 LUCK — good and bad is but a synonyme, in the great 
 majority of instances, for good and bad judgment. The pru- 
 dent, the considerate, and the circumspect, seldom complain 
 of their ill luck ; but I should shrewdly suspect the discretion 
 of the grumbler, who protested that Fortune always made 
 clubs or spades trumps, when he had not a single black card 
 
THE TIN TKUMPET. 16? 
 
 in his hand ; and that even when he fell backwards he was 
 sure to break his nose. 
 
 LUXURY — The conqueror of conquerors — the consump- 
 tion of states — the dry-rot of the constitution — the avenger of 
 the defeated and the oppressed. Poverty, conquest, wealth, 
 luxury, decay ; such is the Eound-Eobin history of the world — 
 
 "Ssevior armis 
 Luxuria incubuit, victumque ulciscitur, orbem." 
 
 Mandeville's position, that private vices are public benefits, 
 and that individual luxury, even when pushed to a faulty 
 excess, is a public advantage, cannot be maintained ; for noth- 
 ing that is injurious to one, can be good for many. 
 
 MAECENAS — A man who employs his riches in such a 
 way as to attract the admiration of fools. 
 
 MACKINTOSH— Sir James — was an eminent lawyer and 
 judge ; but a man of gigantic mind accustomed, to deal with 
 the greatest subjects, and incapable of reducing his visual 
 focus.. "If he had to write on pepper," said Sydney Smith, 
 " he would say, ' Pepper may philosophically be described as 
 a dusty and highly -pulverized seed of an Oriental fruit, an 
 article rather of condiment than diet, which, dispersed lightly 
 over the surface of food, with no other rule than the caprice 
 of the consumer, communicates pleasure rather than affords 
 nutrition, and by adding a tropical flavor to the gross and suc- 
 culant viands of the north, approximates the different regions 
 of the earth, explains the objects of commerce, and justifies 
 the industry of man.' " 
 
 MAGNANIMITY — is as often littleness as greatness of 
 mind. There is a cheap species, which prompts us to feel 
 complacently towards our enemy when he has enabled us to 
 make a happy repartee. 
 
 We forgive him all his previous attempts to lower us, be- 
 cause he has unintentionally furnished us with a momentary 
 
168 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 triumph; so completely does our love of self predominate, 
 even over our dislike of others. The more cruelly we have 
 mauled our poor vanquished opponent, the more tenderly do 
 we regard him ; and if we have well-nigh blown him to atoms, 
 we feel as if we could never again injure a hair of his head. 
 As there is no magnanimity so cheap, there is none so grati- 
 fying as this, for we like to purchase our virtues on good 
 terms. One of Sheridan's creditors, after having long and 
 vainly dunned him, at length suggested, that if he could not 
 discharge the principal of the debt, he might, at least, pay the 
 interest. " ISTo," said the wag ; " it is not my interest to pay 
 the principal, nor my principle to pay the interest." Though 
 he had previously hated the man for his vulgar importunity, 
 it is recorded that he took him into favor from that moment, 
 and actually defrayed the amount of his bill, a rare instance 
 of preference, considering that he seldom discharged any debt 
 till he paid that of nature. 
 
 Pleasant enough was the magnanimity of the person who, 
 being reproached with not having revenged himself of a caning 
 he had received, exclaimed, "• Sir, I never meddle with what 
 passes behind my back ! " 
 
 MAN" — An image of the Deity, which occasionally acts as 
 if it were anxious to fill up a niche in the temple of the Devil. 
 The only creature which, knowing its mortality and immor- 
 tality, lives as if it were never to die, and too often dies as if 
 it were never to live : — the soul being gifted with reason, the 
 only one that acts irrational : — the nothing of yesterday — the 
 dust of to-morrow. Man is a fleeting paradox, which the ful- 
 ness of time alone can explain ; a living enigma, of which the 
 solution will be found in death. 
 
 MARRIAGE — A state of which it is unnecessary to de- 
 scribe the great happiness, for two reasons : — first, because it 
 would be superfluous to those who are in the enjoyment of its 
 blessings ; and secondly, because it would be impossible to 
 those who are not. 
 
 Ilabituated as we are to the association of doves with 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 169 
 
 loves, it seems startling to learn, on the authority of Pliny, 
 that the Eomans considered the hawk a bird of particularly 
 good omen in marriage, because it never eats the hearts of 
 other birds ; thus intimating that no differences or quarrels, 
 in the marriage state, ought ever to reach the heart. 
 
 " Marriage," says Dr. Johnson, " is the best state for a man 
 in general, and every man is a worse man, in proportion as he 
 is unfit for the married state." It may be doubted, however, 
 whether another of his positions could be maintained — " that 
 marriages in general would be as happy, and often more so, if 
 they were all made by the Lord Chancellor, upon a due con- 
 sideration of character and circumstances, without the parties 
 having any choice in the matter." 
 
 In the pressure that now weighs upon all persons of lim- 
 ited fortune, sisters, nieces, and daughters, are the only com- 
 modities that our friends are willing to bestow upon us for 
 nothing, and which we cannot afford to accept, even gratui- 
 tously. It seems to have been the same, at a former period, 
 in France. Maitre Jean Picard tells us that, when he was 
 returning from the funeral of his wife, doing his best to look 
 disconsolate, .such of the neighbors as had grown-up daughters 
 and cousins came to him, and kindly implored him not to be 
 inconsolable, as they could give him a second wife. — " Six 
 weeks after," says Maitre Jean, " I lost my cow, and, though 
 I really grieved upon this occasion, not one of them offered to 
 give me another." 
 
 It has been recorded by some anti-connubial wag, that 
 when two widowers were once condoling together on the 
 recent bereavement of their wives, one of them exclaimed, 
 with a sigh, " Well may I bewail my loss, for I had so few 
 differences with the dear deceased, that the last day of my 
 marriage was as happy as the first." — " There I surpass you," 
 said his friend, " for the last day of mine was happier ! " 
 
 MASQUERADE — A synonyme for life and civilized so- 
 ciety. There are two sorts of masquerade, simulation, or 
 pretending to be what you are not : and dissimulation, or con- 
 cealing what you are, and we are all mummers under one or 
 8 
 
170 THE TLN" TEUMPET. 
 
 the other of these categories, excepting a few performers at 
 the two extremes of life, those who are above, and those who 
 are beneath all regard for appearances. As a secret conscious- 
 ness of their defects is always prompting hypocrites to disguise 
 themselves in some assumed virtue, the only way to discover 
 their real character, is to read them backwards, like a Hebrew 
 book. 
 
 Many masqueraders on the stage of real life, betray them- 
 selves by overacting their part. 
 
 The Eegent of France intending to go to a masquerade in 
 the character of a lackey, and expressing an anxious wish to 
 remain undetected, the Abbe Dubois suggested that this 
 object might easily be attained, if he would allow him to go 
 as his master, and to give him two or three kicks before the 
 whole company. This was* arranged accordingly, but the 
 pretended master applied his foot so rudely and so often, that 
 the Eegent was fain to exclaim, " Gently, gently, Monsieur 
 l'Abbe ! you are disguising me too much ! " 
 
 MASTER — Being our own master, means that we are at 
 liberty to be the slave of our own follies, caprices, and pas- 
 sions. Generally speaking, a man cannot have a worse or 
 more tyrannical master than himself. As our habits and lux- 
 uries domineer over us, the moment we are in a situation to 
 indulge them, few people are in reality so dependent as the 
 independent. Poverty and subjection debar us from many 
 vices by the impossibility of giving way to them : when we 
 are rid and free from the domination of others, we are cor- 
 rupted and oppressed by ourselves. There was some philoso- 
 phy, therefore, in the hen-pecked husband, who being asked 
 why he had placed himself so completely under the govern- 
 ment of his wife, answered, " To avoid the worse slavery of 
 being under my own." 
 
 MEDICAL-PRACTICE— Guessing at Nature's intentions 
 and wishes, and then endeavoring to subtitute man's. 
 
 MELANCHOLY — Ingratitude to Heaven. As a good 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 171 
 
 antidote to gloomy anticipations, we should all of us do well 
 to recollect the saying of Sir Thomas More, 
 
 " If evils come not — then onr fears are vain, 
 And if they do,— fear but augments the pain." 
 
 MEMOEY — Bochefoucauld says, " Every one complains of 
 his memory, no one of his judgment." And why ? Beeacise 
 we consider the former as depending upon nature ; and the 
 latter upon ourselves Alleged want of memory is a most con- 
 venient refuge for our self-love, since we can always throw it 
 as a cloak over our ignorance. It is astonishing how much 
 people are in the habit of forgetting what they never knew. 
 
 "Strange," says the same writer, "that we can always 
 remember the smallest thing that has happened to ourselves, 
 and yet not recollect how often we have repeated it to the 
 same person." , 
 
 It is a benevolent provision of nature, that in old age the 
 memory enjoys a second spring — a second childhood, and that 
 while we forget all passing occurrences, many of which are 
 but painful concomitants of old age, we have a vivid and de- 
 lightful recollection of all the pleasures of youth. Many a 
 graybeard, who seems to be lost in vacancy, as he sits silently 
 twiddling his thumbs, is in fact chewing the mental end of 
 past happiness, and enjoying a tranquil gratification, which 
 youngsters might well envy. 
 
 Objects become shadowy to the bodily eye, as they are 
 more remote, but to the mental eye of age, the most distant 
 are the most distinct. A man of eighty may forget that he 
 was seventy, but he never forgets that he was once a boy. 
 Who can doubt the immortality of the soul, when we see that 
 the mind can thus pass out of bodily decrepitude into a state 
 of rejuveniscence ? for this process amounts to a Palingenesia 
 — a partial new birth out of a partial disease, preparatory to a 
 total resurrection out of total dissolution. 
 
 MINDS — Large ones, like pictures, are seen best at a dis- 
 tance. Their beauties are thus enhanced, and their blemishes 
 
172 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 concealed,— a process which is reversed by a close inspection. 
 This is the reason, to say nothing of envious motives, why we 
 generally undervalue our contemporaries, and overrate the 
 ancients. 
 
 MINORITIES — It would he an entertaining change in 
 human affairs to determine every thing by minorities. They 
 are almost always in the right. 
 
 MIRROR — John Taylor relates in his records, that having 
 restored sight to a boy who had been born blind, the lad was 
 perpetually amusing himself with a hand-glass, calling his own 
 reflection his little man, and inquiring why he could make it do 
 every thing that he did, except shut its eyes. A French lover, 
 making a present of a mirror to his mistress, sent with it a 
 poetical quatrain, which may be thus paraphrased : — 
 
 "This mirror my object of love will unfold, 
 Whensoe'er your regard it allures : — 
 Oh ! would, when I'm gazing, that I might behold 
 On its surface the object of yours 1 " 
 
 But the following old epigram, on the same subject, is in a 
 much finer strain : — 
 
 When I revolve this evanescent state, 
 How fleeting is its form, how short its date ; 
 My being and my stay dependent still, 
 Not on my own, but on another's will ; 
 I ask myself, as I my image view, 
 Which is the real shadow of the two." 
 
 MISADVENTURE — as well as mischance and misfortune, 
 are all the daughters of misconduct, and sometimes the mothers 
 of Goodluck, Prosperity, and Advancement. To be thrown 
 upon one's own resources, is to be cast into the very lap of 
 fortune ; for our faculties then undergo a development, and 
 display an energy of which they were previously unsuscepti- 
 ble. Our minds are like certain drugs and perfumes, which 
 must be crushed before they evince their vigor, and put forth 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 173 
 
 their virtues. Lundy Foot, the celebrated snuff manufacturer, 
 originally kept a small tobacconist's shop at Limerick. One 
 night, his house, which was uninsured, was burnt to the 
 ground. As he contemplated the smoking ruins on the fol- 
 lowing morning, in a state bordering on despair, some of the 
 poor neighbors, groping among the embers for what they 
 could find, stumbled upon several canisters of un consumed, 
 but half-baked snuff, which they tried, and found it so grate- 
 ful to their noses, that they loaded their waistcoat pockets with 
 the spoil. Lundy Foot, roused from his stupor, at length im- 
 itated their example, and took a pinch of his own property, 
 when he was instantly struck by the superior pungency and 
 flavor it had acquired from the great heat to which it had 
 been exposed. Treasuring up this valuable hint, he took an- 
 other house in a place called Black-yard, and preparing a large 
 oven for the purpose, set diligently about the manufacture of 
 that high-dried commodity, which soon became widely-known 
 as Black Yard snuff; a term subsequently corrupted into the 
 more familiar word — Blackguard. Lundy Foot, making his 
 customers pay literally through the nose, raised the price of 
 his production, took a larger house in Dublin, and ultimately 
 made a handsome fortune by having been ruined. 
 
 MISANTHBOPE— Quite unworthy of Goethe's genial and 
 penetrative mind is his misanthropical remark, that " each of 
 us, the best as well as the worst, hides within him something, 
 some feeling, some remembrance, which, if it were known, 
 would make you hate him." More consonant would it have 
 been to truth, as well as to an enlightened spirit of humanism, 
 had he reversed the proposition, and exclaimed, in the words 
 of Shakespeare — 
 
 "There is some soul of goodness in things evil, 
 Would men ohservingly distil it out! " 
 
 Law's observation, " that every man knows something 
 worse of himself than he is sure of in others," savors not of 
 misanthrophy, but of that doubly-beneficial feeling which in- 
 culcates individual humility, and universal charity. 
 
174 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 Rochefoucauld, and misanthropical writers of the same 
 class, cannot succeed in giving any man, of a generous and 
 clear intellect, an unfavorable opinion of human nature. Like 
 the workers of tapestry, who always behold the wrong side, 
 they themselves may see nothing but unfinished outlines, 
 coarse materials, crooked ends, and glaring defects, and yet 
 produce a portrait which, to those who contemplate it in 
 front, and from a proper point of view, shall be full of grace, 
 beauty, harmony, and proportion. 
 
 MISER — One who, though he loves himself better than all 
 the world, uses himself worse ; for he lives like a pauper, in 
 order that he may enrich his heirs, whom he naturally hates, 
 because he knows that they hate him, and sigh for his death. 
 In this respect, misers have been compared to leeches, which, 
 when they get sick and die, disgorge, in a minute, the blood 
 they have been so long sucking up. La Bruyere tersely says 
 — " Jeune on conserve pour la vieillesse : vieux on epargne pour 
 la morty 
 
 Pithy enough was the reply of the avaricious old man, 
 who, being asked by a nobleman of doubtful courage what 
 pleasure he found in amassing riches which he never used, 
 answered — " Much the same that your Lordship has in wear- 
 ing a sword." 
 
 Perhaps the severest reproach ever made to a miser, was 
 uttered by Yoltaire. At a subscription of the French Acad- 
 emyfor some charitable object, each contributor putting in a 
 louis oVor, the collector, by mistake, made a second application 
 to a member, noted for his penuriousness. — " I have already 
 paid," exclaimed the latter, with some asperity. — "I beg 
 your pardon," said the applicant : "I have no doubt you paid ; 
 I believe it, though I did not see it." — " And I saw it, and do 
 not believe it," whispered Yoltaire. 
 
 MISFORTUNE— is but another word for the follies, blun- 
 ders, and vices, which, with a greater blindness, we attribute 
 to the blind goddess, to the fates, to the stars, to any one, in 
 short, but ourselves. Our own head and heart are the heaven 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 175 
 
 and earth which we accuse, and make responsible for all our 
 calamities. 
 
 The prudent make the reverses by which they have been 
 overthrown supply a basis for the restoration of their fallen 
 fortunes, as the lava which has destroyed a house often fur- 
 nishes the materials for rebuilding it. Fools and profligates, 
 on the contrary, seek solace for their troubles, by plunging 
 into sensual and gross pleasures, as the wounded buffalo rolls 
 himself in the mud. 
 
 The misfortune of the mischievous and evil-minded, is the 
 good fortune of the virtuous ; the failure of the guilty, is the 
 success of the innocent : to pity, therefore, the former, is, in 
 some sort, to injure the latter, and to destroy the effect of the 
 great moral lesson afforded by both. Let us keep our sympa- 
 thies for the sufferings of the good. All men might be better 
 reconciled to their fate, if they would recollect that there are 
 two species of misfortune, at which we ought never to repine ; 
 — viz. : that which we can, and that which we cannot, rem- 
 edy ; — regret being, in the former case, unnecessary, in the 
 latter unavailing. 
 
 The same vanity which leads us to assign our misfortunes 
 or misconduct to others, prompts us to attribute all our lucky 
 chances to our own talent, prudence, and forethought. Not a 
 word of the fates or stars when we are getting rich, and every 
 thing goes on prosperously. So deeply-rooted in our nature 
 is the tendency to make others responsible for our own mis- 
 deeds, that we lapse into the process almost unconsciously. 
 When the clergyman has committed a peccadillo, he is doubly 
 severe towards his congregation, and does vicarious penance 
 in the persons of his flock. Men scold their children, servants, 
 and dependents, for their own errors ; coachmen invariably 
 punish their horses after they themselves have made any stu- 
 pid blunder in driving them ; and even children, when they 
 have tumbled over a chair, revenge themselves for their awk- 
 wardness, by beating and kicking the impassive furniture. 
 Wine, the discoverer of truth, sometimes brings out this 
 universal failing in a manner equally signal and ludicrous. 
 An infant being brought to christen to a country curate, at a 
 
176 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 time when lie was somewhat overcome by early potations, he 
 was unable to find the service of Baptism in the book ; and, 
 after fumbling for some time, peevishly exclaimed — " Con- 
 found the brat ! what is the matter with it ? I never, in all 
 my life, knew such a troublesome child to christen ! " 
 
 MONASTERY — A house of ill-fame, where men are se- 
 duced from their public duties, and fall naturally into guilt, 
 from attempting to preserve an unnatural innocence. " It is 
 as unreasonable for a man to go into a Carthusian convent for 
 fear of being immoral, as for a man to cut off his hands for 
 fear he should steal. When that is done, he has no longer any 
 merit, for though it is out of his power to steal, he may all his 
 life be a thief in his heart. All severity that does not tend to 
 increase good or prevent evil, is idle." 
 
 MONEY — A very good servant, but a bad master. It may 
 be accused of injustice towards mankind, inasmuch as there 
 are only a few who make false money, whereas money makes 
 many men false. "We hate to be cheated, not so much for the 
 value of the commodity, as because it makes others superior 
 to ourselves. Being defrauded would be nothing were it not 
 so galling to be outwitted. Crates, the Greek philosopher, left 
 his money in the hands of a friend, with orders to pay it to 
 his children in case they should be fools ; for, said he, if they 
 are philosophers, they will not want it. Money is more indis- 
 pensable now than it was then, but, still, a wise man will have 
 it in his head rather than his heart. 
 
 MORALITY — Keeping up appearances in this world, or 
 becoming suddenly devout when we imagine that we may be 
 shortly summoned to appear in the next. 
 
 MORAL CHOLERA—" It is easier," says St. Gregory 
 Nazianzen, " to contract the vices of others than to impart to 
 them our own virtues ; just as it is easier to catch their diseases 
 than to communicate to them our own good health." * 
 
 Facilius est vitium contrahere quam virtutem impertire ; quem-admodum 
 facilius est morbo alieno inflci, quam sanitatem largiri. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 177 
 
 MOTHERS — Four good mothers have given birth to four 
 bad daughters : — Truth has produced hatred ; Success, pride ; 
 Security, danger ; Familiarity, contempt. And, on the con- 
 trary, four bad mothers have produced as many good daughters, 
 for Astronomy is the offspring of astrology ; Chemistry, of 
 alchemy ; Freedom, of oppression ; Patience, of long-suffering. 
 
 MOUNTAINEERS — are rarely conquered, not so much on 
 account of the facility for defence afforded by their craggy 
 heights as from their hardier habits and greater patriotism. 
 In the rich lowlands, art becomes the principal pursuit ; art 
 leads to riches and luxury, and these to enervation and subjec- 
 tion. On the high and barren places, man's occupations render 
 him more conversant with nature, an intercourse which in- 
 separably attaches him to " the mountain nymph — sweet 
 Liberty." When in danger of being worsted, Highlanders are 
 renovated, like Antaeus, by a touch of their native earth ; and 
 so might we, when attacked by the cares and sickliness of 
 money-getting and money-spending, if we would only quit our 
 crowded cities, take a walk in the fields, and touch the earth. 
 "When the leafless and embittering metropolis turns our moral 
 honey into gall, we may always reverse the process by straying 
 amid the flowers in the country. 
 
 MOUTH — A useless instrument to some people, in its 
 capacity, by the organs of speech, of rendering ideas audible ; 
 but of special service to them in its other capacity of rendering 
 victuals invisible. 
 
 MUSES — The — Nine blue-stocking old maids, who seem 
 to have understood all arts except that of getting husbands, 
 unless their celibacy may be attributed to their want of 
 marriage portions. These venerable young ladies are loudly 
 and frequently invoked by poetasters, writers in albums and 
 annuals, and other scribblers ; but, like Mungo in the farce, 
 each of them replies, " Massa, massa ! — the more you call the 
 more me won't come." One of our tourists, at Paris, observ- 
 ing that there were only statues of eight muses on the Opera 
 8* 
 
178 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 House, which was then incomplete, inquired of a laboring 
 mason what had become of the ninth. " Monsieur, je ne vous 
 dirois pas" replied the man ; — " mais probablement elle s 1 amuse 
 avec Apollonf" An English operative would hardly have 
 given such an answer. A gentleman once expressed his sur- 
 prise that in so rich a literary country as England the Muses 
 should not attain their due honors. " Impossible ! " cried a 
 whist-playing old lady : " They are nine, and of course cannot 
 reckon honors." 
 
 MUSIC — " Music, like a man himself, derives all its dignity 
 from its subornation to a loftier and more spiritual power. 
 "When, divorcing itself from poetry, it first sought to be a 
 principle instead of an accessory, to attach more importance to 
 a sound than to a thought, to supersede sentiment by skill, to 
 become, in short, man's playfellow, rather than his assistant 
 teacher, a sensual instead of an intellectual gratification, its 
 corruption, or at least its application to less ennobling pur- 
 poses, had already commenced. As the art of music, strictly 
 so called, was more assiduously cultivated, as it became more 
 and more perplexed with complicated intricacies, only under- 
 stood by a few, and less and less an exponent of the simple 
 feelings and sentiments that are intelligible to all, it may be 
 said to have lost in general utility and value, what it gained 
 in science, and to have been gradually dissolving that union 
 between sound and sense, which imparted to it its chief interest 
 and influence." 
 
 So entirely do I agree with the writer from whom the 
 above extract is taken, that I have often rode back after a 
 morning concert, to my residence in the country, that I might 
 enjoy the superior pleasures of natural music. It was upon 
 such an occasion, while strolling in the fields, that my thoughts 
 involuntarily arranged themselves, as the novelists say, into 
 the following stanzas : 
 
 There's a charm and zest when the singer thrills 
 The throbbing breast with his dulcet trills, 
 And a joy more rare than the sweetest air 
 Art ever combined, 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 179 
 
 "When the poet enhances, 
 By beautiful fancies, 
 The strain, and entrances 
 Both ear and mind. 
 The triumph, music ! is ne'er complete, 
 Till the pleasures of sense and of intellect meet. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Delights like these, to the poor unknown, 
 Are reserved for the rich and great alone, 
 In diamonds and plumes, who fill the rooms 
 
 Of some grand abode, 
 And think that a guinea, 
 To hear Paginini, 
 Or warbling Eubini, 
 
 Is well bestow'd ; 
 Since then, only then, they the pleasure share 
 Of science, voice, instrument— equally rare. 
 
 But the peasant at home, in gratuitous boon, 
 Has an opera dome and orchestral saloon, 
 "With melody gay from the peep of day 
 
 Until evening dim ; 
 "Whenever frequented, 
 "With flowers it is scented, 
 It seems all invented 
 
 And painted by him, 
 "Who suspended its blazing lamps on high, 
 And its ceiling formed of the azure sky. 
 
 Oh ! what can compare with the concert sublime, 
 "When waters, earth, air, all in symphony chime ? 
 The wind, herds, and bees, with the rustle of trees, 
 
 Varied music prolong; 
 On the spray as it swingeth, 
 Each bird sweetly singeth, 
 The sky-lark down flingeth 
 
 A torrent of song — 
 Till the transports of music, devotion, and love, 
 "Waft the rapturous soul to the regions above. 
 
 MUSICIANS — Machines for producing sounds; human 
 instruments, generally so completely absorbed by their own 
 art, that they are either ignorant of all others, or undervalue 
 them. In a company at Vienna, where the conversation was 
 
180 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 nearly engrossed by the praises of Goethe, Catalini exclaimed, 
 with great naivete, "Who is this Goethe? I have never 
 heard any of his music ! " A poor German composer being 
 introduced to Mozart, whom he considered the greatest man in 
 the world, was so overcome with awe, that he dared not lift 
 his eyes from the ground, but remained, for some time, stam- 
 mering, " Ah, Imperial Majesty ! Ah, Imperial Majesty ! " 
 In the same spirit Cafarielli, when told that Farinelli had been 
 made a sort of Prime Minister in Spain, replied, " No man 
 deserved it better, for his voice is absolutely unrivalled." 
 
 MYSTERY — To him who has been sated and disappointed 
 by the actual and the intelligible, there is a profound charm 
 in the unattainable and the inscrutable. Infants stretch out 
 their hands for the moon ; children delight in puzzles and 
 riddles, even when they cannot discover their solution ; and 
 the children of a larger growth desire no better employment 
 than to follow their example, however it may lead them astray. 
 The mystery of the Egyptian hieroglyphics was a frequent 
 source of idolatry ; the type being taken for the prototype, 
 until leeks and onions received the homage originally meant 
 for their divine Giver. At which we need the less wonder, if 
 we remember the confession of the pious Baxter, that, in order 
 to awaken an interest in his congregation, he made it a rule, 
 in every sermon, to say something that was above their 
 capacity. 
 
 There is a glorious epoch of our existence, wherein the 
 comprehensible appears common and insipid, and in abandon- 
 ing ourselves to the enthusiasm of imagination, we attain a 
 middle state between despair and deification — a beatific ecstasy, 
 when the spirit longs to fly upward — when the finite yearns 
 for the infinite, the limited in intellect for the omniscient, the 
 helpless for the omnipotent, the real for the impossible. 
 Thus to flutter above the world, on the extended wings of fan- 
 cy, is to be half a deity. And yet the forward-springing and 
 ardent mind, which, running ahead of its contemporaries, 
 stands upon the forehead of the age to come, only renders 
 itself the more conspicuous mark for obloquy and assault. Like 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 181 
 
 a Shrovetide cock, tethered to the earth, it can but partially 
 raise itself, when it again sinks down, amid the sticks and 
 stones of its cruel persecutors. 
 
 NAMES — The character of different eras may, to a certain 
 extent, be discovered by the various ways in which our ambi- 
 tious nobility, aud others, have endeavored to achieve an en- 
 during celebrity. "When chivalry was the rage, they gave their 
 names to new inventions in arms and armor : now-a-days, they 
 court notoriety by standing godfathers to some new fashions 
 in clothes and cookery, and eclipsing all competitors in their 
 coats, cabs, and castors. A ducal Campbell, whose ancestors 
 were always spilling hot blood, endeavors to win celebrity in 
 another way, by inventing an Argyle for preserving hot gravy ; 
 a Sandwich embalms his name between two slices of bread and 
 ham ; a Pembroke immortalizes himself in a table ; a Skel- 
 mersdale goes down to future ages, like an Egyptian divinity, 
 in a chair ; a Standish, surpassing the bottle conjuror, creeps 
 into an inkstand, by which means " he still keeps his memory 
 black in our souls ; " a Stanhope expects to be wheeled down 
 to posterity, by harnessing his name to a gig of a peculiar con- 
 struction ; a Petersham, hitting upon the easiest device by 
 which he could prove to after ages that he wore a head, gives 
 his title to a hat. Another nobleman, clarum et venerabile 
 nomen, one who was said to have driven all the tailors into 
 the suburbs, by compelling them to live on the skirts of the 
 town, wraps up his name in the mummy-cloth of a Spencer, 
 and secures a long-enduring fame by inventing a short coat. 
 
 It is not generally known, that names may be affected, and 
 even completely changed, by the state of the weather. Such, 
 however, is unquestionably the case. The late Mr. Suet, the 
 actor, going once to dine about twenty miles from London, and 
 being only able to get an outside place on the coach, arrived 
 in such a bedraggled state from an incessant rain, and so 
 muffled up in greatcoats and pocket-handkerchiefs, that his 
 friend inquired, doubtingly — " Are you Suet ? " — " No ! " 
 replied the wag — " I'm dripping ! " 
 
182 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 Contracting a name sometimes lengthens the idea. Kean 
 mentions an actor of the name of Lancaster, whom his com- 
 rades usually called Lanky, for shortness. 
 
 NOBLEMAN" — One who is indebted to his ancestors for a 
 name and an estate, and sometimes to himself for being un- 
 worthy of both. It was said of an accomplished and amiable 
 earl, who was weak enough to be always boasting his title and 
 his birth — " "What a pity he is a nobleman; he really deserves 
 to have been born a commoner." 
 
 NONSENSE — Sense that happens to differ from our own, 
 supposing that we have any. If matter and mind, blending 
 together in two incoherent substances, form the connecting 
 link that separates physics from metaphysics, the real from the 
 imaginary, and the visible from the unapparent, it follows as a 
 precursive corollary, that the learned comments of the scholiasts, 
 the dogmas of theologians, and the elaborate treatises of the 
 Byzantine historians, can never be recognized as evidences of 
 a foregone conclusion. Statistics and algebra, as well as logic 
 and analogy, equally rebut the inference that in a case of so 
 complicated a nature, the deposition of a mere functionary 
 can be received as the spontaneous evidence of a compulsory 
 principal. Oases may doubtless arise, where legal deductions, 
 drawn from federal rather than from feudal institutes, will vary 
 the superstructure upon which the whole theory was based ; but 
 in the present instance, such objections must be deemed rather 
 captious than analytical. On the whole it is presumed that the 
 reader who has carefully perused and reconsidered our argu- 
 ments, will be at little loss to understand the nature of the word, 
 of which we have written this clear and explanatory definition. 
 Should he, however, not be satisfied, he is referred to Voltaire's 
 Galimathias, beginning " Unjour quHl faisoit nuit," &c. 
 
 NON SEQUITUK — A grammatical Adam, being a relative 
 without an ante-cedent : — something that is apropos to nothing, 
 and comes after without following from. Of this figure there 
 are various sorts ; but the most common form is putting the 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 183 
 
 cart before the horse, or taking the effect for the cause. The 
 industrious, prudent, and enlightened people of this country have 
 thriven and grown great and rich, not always in consequence of 
 good, hut in spite of bad government. Their native shrewdness 
 and energy have enabled them to triumph over impediments, 
 political, fiscal, and commercial, which would have completely 
 crushed a less active and enterprising nation. When, there- 
 fore, they are desired to reverence the misgoverned and the 
 unreformed institutions, to which alone they are told to con- 
 sider themselves indebted for all the advantages they enjoy, one 
 cannot help recalling the non sequitur of the Carmelite friar, 
 who instanced as a striking proof of the superintendence and 
 goodness of Providence, that it almost invariably made a river 
 run completely through the middle of every large city. Some- 
 what akin to this instance of naivete was the reply of the 
 Birmingham boy, who being asked whether some shillings, 
 which he tendered at a shop, were good, answered with great 
 simplicity, " Ay, that they be, for I seed father make 'em all 
 this morning." 
 
 NOVELIST — An autocrat of tremendous power. If four 
 or five men are in a room, and show a disposition to break the 
 peace, no human magistrate (not even Mr. Justice Bayley) could 
 do more than bind them over to keep the peace, and commit 
 them if they refused. But the writer of the novel stands with 
 a pen in his hand, and can run any'of them through the body, 
 — can knock down any one individual, and keep the others 
 upon their legs ; or, like the last scene in the first tragedy 
 written by a young man of genius, can put them all to death. 
 Now, an author possessing such extraordinary privileges, 
 should not suffer his hero to have a black eye, or to be pulled 
 by the nose. The Iliad would never have come down to these 
 times if Agamemnon had given Achilles a box on the ear. 
 We should have trembled for the ^Eneid, if any Tyrian noble- 
 man had kicked the pious iEneas in the 4th book. iEneas may 
 have deserved it ; but he could not have founded the Koman 
 Empire after so distressing an accident. 
 
184 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 NOVELTY — "What we recover from oblivion. "We can 
 fish little out of the river Lethe that has not first been thrown 
 into it. The world of discovery goes round without advancing, 
 like a squirrel in its cage, and the revolution of one century 
 differs but little from that of its predecessors. New performers 
 mount the stage, but the piece and its accompaniments remain 
 pretty much the same. Trumpets and taxes are the charac- 
 teristics of the present era. No security without immense 
 standing armies, no army without pay, no pay without taxes. 
 It is a grievance which we cannot avoid, and of which, there- 
 fore, it were as well to say nothing ; but if Tacitus is not silent 
 on the subject, who can be ? " Neque quies gentium," says that 
 historian, " sine armis, neque arma sine stipendiis, neque 
 stipendia sine tributis haberi queunt" 
 
 In the two extremes of life we have the most acute sense of 
 novelty. To the boy all is new : to the old man, when this world 
 no longer offers variety or change, is presented the most stimu- 
 lating of all novelties — the contemplation of a new existence. 
 
 Shakspeare u exhausted worlds, and then imagined new ; " 
 but this is a privilege conceded to none but the chosen sons of 
 genius. Common writers can only become original, when 
 they have exhausted nature, by becoming unnatural. Like a 
 mountebank at a fair, they surprise our attention by their 
 extravagance, but they cannot keep it. We shrug our shoul- 
 ders, and forget them. Many are the writers, nevertheless, 
 who prefer a momentary fool's cap to a distant laurel. 
 
 NOVEMBER — The period at which most Englishmen take 
 leave of the sun for nine months, and not a few of them for 
 ever. A demure Scottish lady having been introduced to the 
 Persian ambassador when in London, exclaimed with an in- 
 credulous air, " Is it possible that ye are such idolaters in Persia 
 as to worship the sun ? " " Yes, madam," was the reply, u and 
 so you would in England, if you ever saw him." 
 
 OATH — Legal — Making the awful and infinite Deity a party 
 to all the trivial and vulgar impertinences of human life : an act 
 of profanation equally required from a church-warden and an 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 185 
 
 archbishop, from a petty constable and the chief justice of Eng- 
 land " Let the law," says Paley, " continue its own functions, if 
 they be thought requisite ; but let it spare the solemnity of an 
 oath, and, where it is necessary, from the want of something 
 better to depend upon, to accept a man's word or own account, 
 let it annex to prevarication penalties proportionable to the 
 public consequence of the offence." 
 
 Where they are made a test of religious belief, for the 
 purpose of excluding any class of our fellow-subjects from their 
 civil rights, oaths, being equally opposed to Christianity, 
 policy, and justice, ought to be totally and finally abolished. 
 He who first devised the oath of abjuration, profligately boasted 
 that he had framed a test which should " damn one half of 
 the nation, and starve the other ;" — a vaunt well worth the 
 consideration of those who have placed themselves within the 
 first clause of his prophecy. 
 
 To the utterance of oaths, as execrations, a practice equally 
 hateful for its blasphemy and vulgarity, there seems to be 
 little other inducement than its gratuitous sinfulness, since it 
 communicates no pleasure, and removes no uneasiness, neither 
 elevates the speaker, nor depresses the hearer. " Go," said 
 Prince Henry, the son of James I., when one of his courtiers 
 swore bitterly at being disappointed of a tennis match — " Go I 
 all the pleasures of earth are not worth a single oath." 
 
 OBEDIENCE — Military — must be implicit and unreason- 
 ing. " Sir," said the Duke of Wellington to an officer of 
 engineers, who urged the impossibility of executing the direc- 
 tions he had received, " I do not ask your opinion ; I gave you 
 my orders, and I expect them to be obeyed." It might have 
 been difficult, however, to yield a literal obedience to the 
 adjutant of a volunteer corps, who, being doubtful whether he 
 had distributed muskets to all the men, cried out — " All you 
 that are without arms will please to hold up your hands." 
 
 ODORS — Bad — The silent voice of nature, made audible 
 by the nose. The worst may, in some degree, be sweetened to 
 our sense by a recollection of the important part they perform 
 
186 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 in the economy of the world. Those emitted by dead ani- 
 mals, attract birds and beasts of prey from an almost incredible 
 distance, who not only soon remove the nuisance, but convert it 
 into new life, beauty, and enjoyment. Should no such resource 
 be at hand, as is "often the case in inhabited countries, the per- 
 nicious effluvia disengaged from these decaying substances, occa- 
 sion them to be quickly buried in the ground, where their 
 organized forms are resolved into chemical constituents, and they 
 are fitted to become the food of vegetables. The noxious gas 
 is converted into the aroma of the flower, and that which 
 threatened to poison the air, affords nourishment and delight 
 to man and beast. Animals are thus converted into plants, 
 and plants again become animals ; — change of form and not 
 extinction — or, rather, destruction for the sake of reproduction, 
 being the system of nature. Pulverized human bones are now 
 largely imported into England for manure, and the corn thus 
 raised will again be eventually reconverted into human bones. 
 
 OLD AGE — need not necessarily be felt in the mind, as in 
 the body ; time's current may wear wrinkles in the face that 
 shall not reach the heart : there is no inevitable decrepitude or 
 senility of the spirit, when its tegument feels the touches of 
 decay. "We sometimes talk of men falling into their second 
 childhood, when we should rather say that they have never 
 emerged from their first, but have always been in an intellec- 
 tual nonage. Vigorous minds very rarely sink into imbecility, 
 even in extreme age. Time seems rather to drag them back- 
 wards to their youth, than forwards towards senility. Like the 
 Glastonbury thorn, they flower in the Christmas of their days. 
 Hear how beautifully the venerable Goethe, in the Dedication to 
 the first part of Faust, abandons himself to this Palingenesia. 
 
 " Ye approach again, ye shadowy shapes, which once, in 
 the morning of life, presented yourselves to my troubled view ! 
 Shall I try, this time, to hold you fast ? Do I feel my heart 
 still inclined towards that delusion ? Ye press forward ! well 
 then, ye may hold dominion over me as ye arise around out of 
 vapor and mist. My bosom feels youthfully agitated by the 
 magic breath which atmospheres your train. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 187 
 
 " Ye bring with you the images of happy days, and many 
 loved shades arise ; like to an old, half-expired tradition, rises 
 First-love with Friendship in its company. The pang is 
 renewed ; the plaint repeats the labyrinthine, mazy conrse of 
 life, and names the dear ones who, cheated of fair hours by 
 fortune, have vanished away before me. 
 
 " They hear not the following lays — the souls to whom I 
 sang the first. Dispersed is the friendly throng — the first echo, 
 alas, has died away ! My sorrow voices itself to the stranger 
 many : then; very applause makes my heart sick ; and all that 
 in other days rejoiced in my song, if still living, stray scattered 
 through the world. 
 
 " And a yearning, long unfelt, for that quiet, pensive Spirit- 
 realm seizes me. 'Tis hovering even now, in half-formed tones, 
 my lisping lay, like the iEolian harp. A tremor seizes me : 
 tear follows tear ; the austere heart feels itself growing mild 
 and soft. What I have, I see as in the distance ; and what is 
 gone becomes a reality to me." 
 
 "What a cordial is this apocalypse of youth to all " grave and 
 reverend Seniors !" — Why should any of us doubt that the 
 mind may be progressive, even when the body loses ground ? 
 If we are wiser to-day than yesterday, what is to prevent our 
 being wiser to-morrow than to-day ? — Women rarely die during 
 pregnancy ; and while the mind can be made to conceive and 
 bear children, we may be assured that nature means to preserve 
 its full vitality and power. 
 
 Privation of friends by death is the greatest trial of old 
 age ; for, though new ones may succeed to then* places, they 
 cannot replace them. For this, however, as for all other 
 sorrows, there is a consolation. When we are left behind, and 
 feel as exiles upon earth, we are reconciled to the idea of quit- 
 ting it, and yearn for that future home, where we shall be 
 united to our predecessors, and whither our survivors will 
 follow us. 
 
 Old age is still comparative, and one man may be younger 
 at eighty than another at forty. " Ah ! madam !" exclaimed 
 the patriarch Fontenelle, when talking to a young and beauti- 
 ful woman — " if I were but fourscore again !" 
 
188 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 How powerful is sympathy ! the mere mention of this anec- 
 dote has sent me courting to the muse, and has thrown into 
 verse what I had intended further to say on the subject of 
 
 OLD AGE. 
 
 Yes, I am old ;— my strength declines, 
 And wrinkles tell the touch of time, 
 
 Yet might I fancy these the signs 
 Not of decay, but manhood's prime ; 
 
 For all within is young and glowing, 
 
 Spite of old age's outward showing. 
 
 Yes, I am old ; — the ball, the song, 
 The turf, the gun, no more allure ; 
 
 I shun the gay and gilded throng ; 
 Yet, ah ! how far more sweet and pure 
 
 Home's tranquil joys, and mental treasures, 
 
 Than dissipation's proudest pleasures ! 
 
 Yes, I am old ; — Ambition's call, — 
 Fame, wealth, distinction's keen pursuit, 
 
 That once could charm and cheat me — all 
 Are now detected, passive, mute. 
 
 Thank God ! the passions and their riot 
 
 Are barter'd for content and quiet. 
 
 Yes, I am old ;— but as I press 
 The vale of years with willing feet, 
 
 Still do I find life's sorrows less, 
 And all its hallow'd joys more sweet ; 
 
 Since Time, for every rose he snatches, 
 
 Takes fifty thorns with all their scratches. 
 
 My wife— God bless her ! is as dear 
 As when I plighted first my truth ; 
 
 I feel, in every child's career, 
 The joys of renovated youth : 
 
 And as to Nature — I behold her 
 
 With fresh delight as I grow older. 
 
 Yes, I am old ;— and death hath ta'en 
 Full many a friend, to memory dear ; 
 
 Yet, when I die, 'twill soothe the pain 
 Of quitting my survivors here, 
 
 To think how all will be delighted, 
 
 When in the skies again united 1 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 189 
 
 Yes, I am old ;— experience now, 
 That best of guides, hath, made me sage, 
 
 And thus instructed, I avow 
 My firm conviction, that old age, 
 
 Of all our various terms of living, 
 
 Deserves the warmest, best thanksgiving 1 
 
 " OLD MEN," — says Kochefoucauld, " like to give good 
 advice, as a consolation for being no longer in a condition to 
 give a bad example." May we not turn the dictum of the 
 writer against himself, and infer that he gave us all his bad 
 advice from a contrary feeling? Well may the portrait be 
 dark, when the misanthrope draws from himself ! 
 
 OMEN — The imaginary language of heaven speaking by 
 signs. An oracle is the same, speaking by human tongues, 
 but both have now become dumb. If we wish to know who 
 believes in this Latin word, we must get our Latin answer by 
 reading it backwards. 
 
 OPINION — A capricious tyrant to which many a freeborn 
 man willingly binds himself a slave. Deeming it of much 
 more importance to be valued than valuable — holding opin- 
 ion to be worthier than worth, we had rather stand well in the 
 estimation of others, even of those whom we do not esteem, 
 than of ourselves. This is, indeed, the 
 
 "Meanness that soars, and pride that licks the dust'" 
 
 The greater the importance we attach to our opinions, the 
 greater our intolerance, which is wrong, even when we are 
 right, and doubly so when we are in error ; so that persecu- 
 tion for opinion's sake, can never be justifiable. Our own 
 experience might teach us better, for every man has differed, 
 at various times, from himself, as much as he ever has differed 
 at any one time from others. 
 
 Suffering others to think for us, when Heaven has supplied 
 us with reason and a conscience for the express purpose of 
 enabling us to think for ourselves, is the great fountain of all 
 human error. " There cannot," says Locke, " be a more dan- 
 
190 THE Tm TRUMPET. 
 
 gerous thing to rely on than the opinion of others, nor more 
 likely to mislead one ; since there is much more falsehood and 
 error among men than truth and knowledge ; and if the opin- 
 ions and persuasions of others, whom we know and think well 
 of, be a ground of assent, men have reason to be heathens in 
 Japan, Mahometans in Turkey, Papists in Spain, Protestants in 
 England, and Lutherans in- Sweden."* 
 
 Were a whole nation to start upon a new career of educar 
 tion, with mature faculties, and minds free from preposses- 
 sions or prejudices, how much would be quickly abandoned 
 that is now most stubbornly cherished! If we have many 
 opinions, in our present state, that have once been proscribed, 
 it is presumable that we cling to many more which future 
 generations will discard. The world is yet in its boyhood — 
 perhaps in its infancy ; and our fancied wisdom is but the bab- 
 ble of the nursery. However quickly we may take up an 
 error, we abandon it slowly. As a man often feels a pain in 
 the leg that has been long amputated, so does he frequently 
 yearn towards an opinion after it has been cut off from his 
 mind, — so true is it that 
 
 "He that's convinced against his will, 
 Is of the same opinion still." 
 
 So wedded are some people to their own notions, that they 
 will not have any persons for friends, or even for servants, 
 
 who do not entertain similar views. Lord L makes a 
 
 point of strictly cross-questioning his domestics, as to their 
 religious and political faith, before he engages them. "While 
 residing on his Irish estates, a groom presented himself to be 
 hired, resolving, beforehand, not to compromise himself by 
 any inconsiderate replies. " What are your opinions ? " was 
 the peer's first demand. "Indeed, then, your lordship's 
 honor ! I have just none at all at all." " Not any ! nonsense ! 
 — you must have some, and I insist upon knowing them." 
 " Why, then, your honor's glory, they are for all the world 
 just the same as your lordship's." " Then you can have no 
 
 * On the Human Understanding, 1. iv. c. xv. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 191 
 
 objection to state them, and to confess frankly what is your 
 way of thinking." " Och ! and is it my way of thinking you 
 mane by my opinions? — Why, then, I am exactly the same 
 way of thinking as Pat Sullivan, your honor's gamekeeper, 
 for, says he to me, as I was coming up stairs, Murphy, says 
 he, I'm thinking you'll never be paying me the two-and- 
 twenty shillings I lent you, last Christmas was a twelvemonth. 
 Faith! says I, Pat Sullivan! I'm quite of your way of 
 thinking." 
 
 OPTIMISM — A devout conviction that, under the govern- 
 ment of a benevolent and all-powerful God, every thing con- 
 duces ultimately to the best in the world he has created, and 
 that mankind, the constant objects of his paternal care, are in 
 a perpetual state of improvement, and increased happiness. 
 This is a great and consoling principle, the summary of all 
 religion and all philosophy, the reconciler of all misgivings, 
 the source of all comfort and consolation. To believe in it, is 
 to realize its truth, so far as we are individually concerned ; 
 and indeed it will mainly depend upon ourselves, whether or 
 not every thing shall be for the best. Let us cling to the 
 moral of Parnell's hermit, rather than suffer our confidence in 
 the divine goodness to be staggered by the farcical exaggera- 
 tions of Voltaire's Oandide. If the theory of the former be a 
 delusion, it is, at least, a delightful one ; and, for my own 
 part — "malim cum Platone err are, quam cum aliis recti 
 sentire " — where the error is of so consolatory and elevating a 
 description. 
 
 An optimist may be wrong, but presumption and religion 
 are in his favor ; nor can we directly pronounce any thing to 
 be for final evil, until the end of all things has arrived, and 
 the whole scheme of creation is revealed to us. " Does not 
 every architect complain of the injustice of criticizing a build- 
 ing before it is half finished ? — Yet, who can tell what volume 
 of the creation we are in at present, or what point the struc- 
 ture of our moral fabric has attained ? — Whilst we are all in a 
 vessel that is sailing under sealed orders, we shall do well to 
 confide implicitly in our government and captain." 
 
192 
 
 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 % 
 
 ORATORY — The power to talk people out of their sober 
 and matured opinions. Oratory is a dangerous talent. Few 
 men are fit to be trusted with it, for few are able to resist the 
 temptations to use it for their own ends. True orators are 
 more scarce than is generally imagined. Rank is oftener 
 found than eloquence. The genuine orator is inspired, and 
 does not need a prompter — as did that notorious " second-rate 
 blunderer," Sir Frederick Flood. He had a droll habit, of 
 which he could never break himself; whenever a person at 
 his back whispered or suggested any thing to him while he 
 was speaking in public, he without a moment's reflection invol- 
 untarily repeated the suggestion literatim. Sir Frederick was 
 once making a long speech in the Irish parliament, lauding the 
 transcendent' merits of the "Wexford magistracy. As he was 
 closing his turgid oration, by. declaring that "the said magis- 
 tracy ought to receive some signal mark of the lord lieutenant's 
 favor," John Egan, who was rather mellow, and sitting behind 
 him, jocularly whispered, "And be whipped at the cart's tail." 
 — "And be whipped at the cart's tail !" repeated Sir Frederick 
 unconsciously, amid uproarious laughter from the whole 
 house. 
 
 ORIGINALITY — Unconscious or undetected imitation. 
 Even Seneca complains, that the ancients had compelled him 
 to borrow from them what they would have taken from him, 
 had he been lucky enough to have preceded them. " Every 
 one of my writings," says Goethe, in the same candid spirit, 
 " has been furnished to me by a thousand different persons, a 
 thousand different things : the learned and the ignorant, the 
 wise and the foolish, infancy and age, have come in turn, 
 generally without having the least suspicion of it, to bring me 
 the offering of their thoughts, their faculties, their experience : 
 often have they sowed the harvest I have reaped. My work 
 is that of an aggregation of human beings, taken from the 
 whole of nature ; it bears the name of Goethe." 
 
 It is in the power of any writer to be original, by deserting 
 nature, and seeking the quaint and the fantastical ; but literary 
 monsters, like all others, are generally short-lived. " When I 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 193 
 
 was a young man," says Goldsmith, " being anxious to distin- 
 guish myself, I was perpetually starting new propositions ; but 
 I soon gave this over, for I found that generally what was new 
 was false.' 1 Strictly speaking, we may be original, without 
 being new : our thoughts may be our own, and yet common- 
 place. 
 
 P's and Q's — The origin of the phrase " Mind your P's and 
 Q's " is not generally known. In ale-houses, where chalk scores 
 were formerly marked upon the wall, or behind the door of 
 the tap-room, it was customary to put these initial letters at 
 the head of every man's account, to show the number of pints 
 and quarts for which he was in arrears ; and we may presume 
 many a friendly rustic to have tapped his neighbor on the 
 shoulder, when he was indulging too freely in his potations, 
 and to have exclaimed, as he pointed to the score, " Giles ! 
 Giles ! mind your P's and Q's." 
 
 "When Toby, the learned pig, was in the zenith of his pop- 
 ularity, a theatrical wag, who attended the performance, 
 maliciously set before him some peas ; a temptation which the 
 animal could not resist, and which immediately occasioned 
 him to lose his cue. The pig exhibitor remonstrated with the 
 author of the mischief on the unfairness of what he had done, 
 when he replied, that his only wish was, to see whether Toby 
 knew his P's from his Q's. 
 
 PANACEA — Advektised — See Poison. There would be 
 little comfort for the sick, either in body or mind, were there 
 any truth in the averment, that philosophy, like medicine, has 
 plenty of drugs and quack medicines, but few remedies, and 
 hardly any specifics. So far from admitting this discouraging 
 statement, a panacea may be prescribed, which, under ordinary 
 circumstances, will generally prevent, and rarely fail to alle- 
 viate, most of the e'vils that flesh is heir to. The following 
 are the simple ingredients : — occupation for the mind, exer- 
 cise for the body, temperance and virtue for the sake of both. 
 This is the magnum arcanum of health and happiness. Half 
 of our illness and misery arises from the perversion of that 
 9 
 
194 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 reason which was given to ns as a protection against both. 
 "We are led astray by our guide, and poisoned by our physician. 
 
 PARENT — It may be doubted, whether a man can fully 
 appreciate the mysterious properties, and the thought-elevating 
 dignity of his nature, until, by becoming a parent, he feels 
 himself to be a creator as well as a creature. The childless 
 man passes through life like an arrow through the air, leaving 
 nothing behind that may mark his flight. A tombstone, stat- 
 ing that they were born and died, is the sole brief evidence of 
 existence, which the mass of bachelors can transmit to the 
 succeeding generation. But the father feels that he belongs 
 to the future, as well as the present ; he has, perhaps, become 
 a permanent part and parcel of this majestical world " till the 
 great globe dissolve ; for his descendants may not impossibly 
 make discoveries, or effect reforms, that shall influence the 
 destiny of the whole human race, and thus immortalize their 
 name. These may be baseless dreams, fond and doating rev- 
 eries, but, like all the aspirations connected with our offspring, 
 they serve to soothe and meliorate the heart, while they send 
 the delighted spirit into the future, wreathed with laurels, and 
 mounted upon a triumphal car of glorious hopes. 
 
 PARTY-SPIRIT— A species of mental vitriol, which we 
 bottle up in our bosoms, that we may squirt it against others ; 
 but which, in the mean time, irritates, corrodes, and poisons 
 our own hearts. Personality and invective are not only proofs 
 of a bad argument, but of a bad arguer ; for politeness is per- 
 fectly compatible with wit and logic, while it enhances the 
 triumph of both. By a union of courtesy and talent, an 
 adversary may be made to grace his own defeat, as the sandal 
 tree perfumes the hatchet that cuts it down. Caesar's soldiers 
 fought none the worse for being scented with unguents, nor 
 will any combatant be weakened by moral suavity. The bit- 
 terness of political pamphlets, and newspaper writing, so far 
 from acting as a tonic, debilitates and dishonors them. A 
 furious pamphleteer, on being reproached with his unsparing 
 acrimony, exclaimed, " Burke, and Curran, and Grattan, have 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 195 
 
 written thus, as well as I." " Ay," said his friend, " but have 
 you written thus as well as they?" Political writers and 
 orators must not mistake the rage, the mouthing, and the con- 
 tortions of the Sibyl for her inspiration. 
 
 It is a melancholy thing to see a man, clothed in soft rai- 
 ment, lodged in a public palace, endowed with a rich portion 
 of the product of other men's industry, using all the influence 
 of his splendid situation, however conscientiously, to deepen 
 the ignorance, and inflame the fury, of his fellow-creatures. 
 These are the miserable results of that policy which has been 
 so frequently pursued for these fifty years past, of placing men 
 of mean, or middling abilities, in high stations. 
 
 PASSIONS — Were it not for the salutary agitation of the 
 passions, the waters of life would become dull, stagnant, and 
 as unfit for all vital purposes as those of the Dead Sea. It 
 should be equally our object to guard against those tempests 
 and overflowings which may entail mischief, either upon our- 
 selves or others ; and to avoid that drowsy calm, of which the 
 sluggishness and inertia are inevitably hostile to the health 
 and spirits. In the voyage of life, we should imitate the an- 
 cient mariners, who, without losing sight of the earth, trusted 
 to the heavenly signs for their guidance. Happy the man, 
 the tide of whose passions, like that of the great ocean, is 
 regulated by a light from above ! 
 
 St. Evremond compares the passions to runaway horses, 
 which you must tame by letting them have their run; a 
 perilous experiment, in which the rider may break his neck. 
 Much better to restrain and conquer them before they get 
 head ; for if they do not obey, they will be sure to command, 
 you. 
 
 PASSIVE RESISTANCE— succeeding to that doctrine of 
 passive obedience, which was once so strenuously inculcated, 
 promises to be not le*ss efficient as a public weapon, than the 
 helplessness of woman is often found to be in private life. This 
 formidable, though negative power, may be compared to a snow- 
 ball, — the more you push against it, the greater it becomes ; 
 
196 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 it continues giving way before you, until it finally comes to a 
 stand still, conquers your strength, and defies your utmost 
 endeavors to move it. 
 
 PATRIOTISM — There is a cowardly kind much in vogue 
 among the politicians of the present day, which is evidently 
 copied from the upholsterer in Foote's farce, who sits up 
 whole nights watching over the British constitution. 
 
 PEN — The silent mouthpiece of the mind, which gives 
 ubiquity and permanence to the evanescent thought of a 
 moment. 
 
 PERSECUTION — Disobeying the most solemn injunctions 
 of Christianity, under the sham plea of upholding it. How 
 admirable the humility of the spiritual persecutor, when he 
 kindly condescends to patronize the Deity, to assist Omnis- 
 cience with his counsels, and lend a helping hand to Omnipo- 
 tence ! In such an attempt the failure is generally as signal 
 as the folly, the cruelty, and the impiety ; for martyrs, like 
 certain plants, spring up more stubbornly, the more you en- 
 deavor to crush and trample them down. The rebound is 
 always proportioned to the percussion, the recoil to the dis- 
 charge. To conquer fanaticism you must tolerate it: the 
 shuttlecock of religious difference soon falls to the ground, 
 when there are no battledores to beat it backwards and for- 
 wards. 
 
 PESSIMISTS — Moral squinters, who, being incapable of a 
 straightforward view, " imagine that penetration is evinced by 
 universal suspicion and mistrust ; who hope, perhaps, to exalt 
 themselves by degrading others ; who discredit every thing 
 that is noble, believe all that is base ; who would persuade 
 their hearers, that the pure wholesome temple of moral beauty 
 and virtue is a lazar-house of noisome corruption and festering 
 abomination. A more false and pestilent treason against 
 human nature, a more impious profanation of the divinity of 
 goodness that is within us, a more self-condemning calumny 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 197 
 
 upon the world, it is not easy to conceive ; and yet, npon this 
 paltry, mischievous basis, have weak-headed and bad-hearted 
 men, in all ages, not only contrived to obtain a reputation for 
 shrewdness and sagacity, but sometimes have been enabled to 
 distress, with painful misgivings, those nobler spirits, who 
 would wish to sympathize with fellow-creatures, in the ful- 
 ness of love and charity, and to believe themselves surrounded 
 with congenial hearts and kindred souls." 
 
 PHILANTHROPY— was not ill-defined by Cicero, when 
 he says, alluding to the purpose of man's creation — u Ad tuendos 
 conservandosque homines, Jiominem natum esse. Homines Tiomi- 
 num causa sunt generati, ut ipsi inter se alii aliis prodesse 
 possint. Hominem, natures ooedientem, homini nocere non posse" 
 
 Why was man made with wide-spreading arms, except, as 
 Dryden beautifully supposes, 
 
 " To satisfy a wide embrace ? " 
 
 The only way we can evince our gratitude to our great 
 Creator and Benefactor, for all that he has given us, is to be 
 as useful as we can to his creatures, and " to love our neighbor 
 as ourselves." 
 
 " I fear," said a country curate to his flock, " when I ex- 
 plained to you in my last charity sermon, that Philanthropy 
 was the love of our species, you must have understood me to 
 say specie, which may account for the smallness of the collec- 
 tion. You will prove, I hope, by your present contributions, 
 that you are no longer laboring under the same mistake." 
 
 PHYSICIANS — always cherish a sneaking kindness for 
 cooks, as more certain and regular purveyors of patients than 
 plague and pestilence ; and there is this advantage in their 
 advice, that no two of them agree, so that the taste of an 
 invalid may always be accommodated. " Are you out of 
 sorts," says Montaigne, " that your physician has denied you 
 the enjoyment of wine, and of your favorite dishes ? — Be not 
 uneasy ; apply to me, and I engage to find you one of equal 
 
198 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 credit, who shall put you under a regimen perfectly opposite 
 to that settled by your own adviser." 
 
 Blunt, and even rude, as he sometimes was, Abernethy 
 would not have hazarded so unfeeling a speech as is recorded 
 of Andrea Baccio, the celebrated Florentine physician. Being 
 called on to attend a woman of quality, he felt her pulse, and 
 asked her how old she was. — She told him, "About four 
 score." "And how long would you live?" demanded the 
 surly practitioner quitting her hand and making the best of 
 his way out of the house. 
 
 Physicians may well smile at the many jokes and malicious 
 pleasantries of which they are the butt, for they must share 
 the consciousness of their patients, that there is no greater 
 benefactor to his species than the successful practitioner. No 
 wonder that such men received divine honors in the olden 
 times, since they seem to approximate to the attributes of the 
 gods. — " Neque enim ulld alid re homines propius ad Beos 
 accedunt, quam salutem hominibus dando" 
 
 PHYSIOGNOMY— -Beading the handwriting of nature upon 
 the human countenance. If a man's face, as it is pretended, 
 be like that of a watch, which reveals without what it con- 
 ceals within, silence itself is no security for our thoughts, for 
 a dial tells the hour as well as a clock. If, in addition to this 
 self-betrayal, the suggestion of Momus could be realized, and 
 a window be placed in our bosoms, so that " he who runs 
 may read," the best of us might well change color, for many 
 a heart would look black when it was read. 
 
 PHONOGRAPHY — as at present practised, is highly use- 
 ful and very near perfection. Nevertheless little mistakes 
 will now and then occur. A member of the House of Repre- 
 sentatives was making a speech, in which he intimated that 
 truth was much dearer to him than party, quoting the Latin, 
 " Amicus Socrates, amicus Plato est, sed major Veritas " — " Soc- 
 rates is my friend, Plato is my friend, but truth is much 
 more my friend." This appeared the next day in the report 
 as follows: "'I may cuss Socrates, I may cuss Plato,' said 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 199 
 
 Major Veritas ! " The sounds were somewhat like, but then 
 there was a little difference in the meaning. 
 
 PIO-KEO — The most unpleasant of all parties of pleasure. 
 
 If sick of home and luxuries, 
 
 You want a new sensation, 
 And sigh for the unwonted ease 
 
 Of -^accommodation,— 
 If you would taste, as amateur, 
 
 And vagabond beginner, 
 The painful pleasures of the poor, 
 
 Get up a Pic-nic dinner. 
 
 Presto ! 'tis done — away you start, 
 
 All frolic, fun, and laughter, 
 The servants and provision cart 
 
 As gayly trotting after. 
 The spot is reach'd, when all exclaim, 
 
 With many a joyous antic, 
 " How sweet a scene I— I'm glad we came I 
 
 How rural— how romantic I " 
 
 Pity the night was wet !— but what 
 
 Care gypsies and carousers? 
 So down upon the swamp you squat 
 
 In porous Nankeen trousers. — 
 Stick to what sticks to you— your seat, 
 
 For thistles round you huddle, 
 While nettles threaten legs and feet, 
 
 If shifted from a puddle. 
 
 Half starved with hunger— parch'd with thirst, 
 
 All haste to spread the dishes, 
 When lo ! 'tis found, the ale has burst 
 
 Amid the loaves and fishes ; 
 Over the pie, a sodden sop, 
 
 The grasshoppers are skipping, 
 Each roll's a sponge, each loaf a mop, 
 
 And all the meat is dripping. — 
 
 Bristling with broken glass, you find 
 
 Some cakes among the bottles, 
 Which those may eat who do not mind 
 
 Excoriated throttles. 
 The biscuits now are wiped and dried, 
 
 When squalling voices utter, 
 " Look ! look ! a toad has got astride * 
 
 Our only pat of butter I " 
 
200 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 Tour solids in a liquid state, 
 
 Tour cooling liquids heated, 
 And every promised joy by fate 
 
 Most fatally defeated ; 
 All, save the serving men are sour'd, 
 
 They smirk, the cunning sinners ! 
 Having, before they came, devour'd 
 
 Most comfortable dinners. 
 
 Still you assume, in very spite, 
 
 A grim and gloomy gladness, 
 Pretend to laugh — affect delight — 
 
 And scorn all show of sadness. — 
 While thus you smile, but storm within, 
 
 A storm without comes faster, 
 And down descends in deaf ning din 
 
 A deluge of disaster. 
 
 'Tis sawe qui pent ; — the fruit dessert 
 
 Is fruitlessly deserted, 
 And homeward now you all revert, 
 
 Dull, desolate, and dirtied, 
 Each gruffly grumbling, as he eyes 
 
 His soaked and sullen brother, 
 " If these are Pic-nic pleasantries, 
 
 Preserve me from another 1 " 
 
 PLAGIARISTS— Purloiners, who filch the fruit that 
 others have gathered, and then throw away the hasket. 
 
 PLEASING ALL PARTIES— This hopeless attempt 
 usually ends hy pleasing none, for time-servers neither serve 
 themselves nor any one else. As the endeavor involves a 
 contemptible compromise of principle, it is generally despised 
 by the very parties whom we seek to conciliate. What opin- 
 ion can we have of a man who has no opinion of his own ? 
 A neutral, we can understand and respect ; but a Janusfaced 
 double-dealer, who affects to belong to both sides, will not be 
 tolerated by either. His fear of giving offence is the greatest 
 of all offences. Of this, a ludicrous instance was afforded at 
 the time of the riots, in 1780, when every one was obliged to 
 chalk " No Popery " upon the wall of his house, in order to 
 protect it from violence. Delphini, the clown, particularly 
 anxious to win "golden opinions from all sorts of men," sinco 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 201 
 
 his benefit was close at hand, scrawled upon his house, in 
 large letters — " No Eeligion." 
 
 PLEASURES— See "Will-o'-the-wisp. Some, like the hori- 
 zon, recede perpetually, as we advance towards them ; others, 
 like butterflies, are crushed by being caught. Pleasure unat- 
 tained, is the hare which we hold in chase, cheered on by the 
 ardor of competition, the exhilarating cry of the dogs — the 
 shouts of the hunters — the echo of the horn — the ambition of 
 being in at the death. Pleasure attained, is the same hare 
 hanging up in the sportsman's larder, worthless, disregarded, 
 despised, dead. 
 
 The keenest pleasures of an unlawful nature are poisoned 
 by a lurking self-reproach, ever rising up to hiss at us, like a 
 snake amid the flowers — 
 
 medio de fonte leporum, 
 
 Surgit aliquid amari ; " 
 
 while there is a secret consolation, even in the heaviest ca- 
 lamity, if we feel that it has not been incurred by our own 
 misconduct. Upon this subject, the great and golden rule is, 
 so to enjoy present, as that they may not interfere with future, 
 pleasures. Burns has happily compared sensual pleasure to 
 snow that falls upon a river, 
 
 " A moment white, then gone forever." 
 
 POETRY — The music of thought conveyed to us in the 
 music of language — the art of embalming intellectual beauty, 
 a process which threatens to be speedily enrolled, together 
 with the Egyptian method of immortalizing the body, among 
 the sciences which are lost. 
 
 The harmony of the works of nature is the visible poetry 
 of the Almighty, emblazoned on the three-leaved book of 
 earth, sea, and sky. 
 
 If Hayley could talk even in his days, of " the cold blank 
 booksellers' rhyme-freezing face," what would he say in ours, 
 when we have seen Orabbe, Wordsworth, and Coleridge, con- 
 
202 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 demned to an involuntary silence ; Moore, the first lyrical 
 writer of the age, " vir nulla non donandus laum," one whose 
 very soul is poetry, driven to the ungenial toil of Biography ; 
 and Southey, not only necessitated to waste his fine poetical 
 talents and kindly feelings in the fierce arena of criticism and 
 politics, but absolutely obliged to consult the public taste, or 
 rather the total want of it, by discontinuing the Laureate 
 odes. 
 
 Absurd as it was to expect a rational answer from T. H., I 
 ventured to ask' him how it came that all our best poets were 
 obliged to write prose ? — "Because poetry is proscribed" was 
 his reply. 
 
 POETS — Merchants are counted shrewd men. A trader 
 in the modern Athens being asked the character of one given to 
 poetry, described him as " one of those men who have soar- 
 ings after the indefinite, and divings after the unfathomable, 
 but who never pay cash." 
 
 POINT — One good one. So various are the estimates 
 formed of us by our fellow-creatures, that there never, per- 
 haps, existed an individual, however unpraiseworthy, who 
 was not acknowledged to have one good point in his character, 
 though it by no means follows that this admission is always 
 to be taken as a compliment. A gentleman, travelling on a 
 Sunday, was obliged to stop, in order to replace one of his 
 horse's shoes. The farrier was at church ; but a villager sug- 
 gested, that if he went on to Jem Harrison's forge he would 
 probably be found at home. This proved to be true, when 
 the rustic who had led the horse to the spot exclaimed — 
 " Well, I must say that for Jem — for it is the only good point 
 about him — he do never go to church ! " 
 
 POLITENESS— of the person exhibits itself in elegance 
 of manners, and a strict adherence to the conventional forms 
 and courtesies of polished life. Politeness of the heart consists 
 in an habitual benevolence, and an absence of selfishness in 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 203 
 
 our intercourse with society of all classes. Each of these may 
 exist without the other. 
 
 POLITICIANS — Adyice to — There is only one principle 
 of public conduct : Do what you think is right, and take -place 
 and power as an accident. Upon any other plan office is shab- 
 biness, labor, and sorrow. 
 
 POMPOSITY — There is nothing pompous gentlemen are 
 so much afraid of as a little humor. It is like the objection 
 of certain cephalic animalculse to the use of small-tooth combs, 
 — " Finger and thumb, precipitate powder, or any thing else 
 you please ; but for Heaven's sake no small-tooth combs ! " 
 
 POPULARITY— The brightness of a falling star,— the 
 fleeting splendor of a rainbow, — the bubble that is sure to 
 burst by its very inflation. The politician, who, in these 
 lunatic times, hopes to adapt himself to all the changes of 
 public opinion, should qualify for the task, by attempting to 
 make a pair of stays for the moon, which assumes a new form 
 and figure every night. 
 
 POSSIBLE — In order to effect the utmost possible, we 
 must be careful not to throw away our strength in straining 
 after the impossible and the unattainable, lest we exemplify 
 the fable of the dog and the shadow. " Search not into the 
 things above thy strength." 
 
 "Sors tua mortalis ; non est mortale quod optas." 
 
 POSTHUMOUS GLORY— A revenue payable to our 
 ghosts ; ^m ignis fatuus; an exhalation arising from the ashes 
 and corruption of the body ; the glow-worm of the grave ; a 
 Jack-o'-lantern, of which a skeleton is the Jack, and the lan- 
 tern a dark one ; protracted oblivion ; the short twilight that 
 survives the setting of the vital sun, and is presently quenched 
 in the darkness of night. " Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust," 
 may be said of our fame, as well as of our frame : one is 
 
204 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 buried very soon after the other. When the rattling earth is 
 cast upon our coffin, it sends up a hollow sound, which, after 
 a few faint echoes, dies, and is buried in oblivious silence. 
 That fleeting noise is our posthumous renown. Living glory 
 is the advantage of being known to those whom you don't 
 know ; posthumous glory is enjoying a celebrity from which 
 you can derive no enjoyment, and enabling every puppy in 
 existence to feel his superiority over you by repeating the old 
 dictum, that a living dog is better than a dead lion, or by 
 quoting from Shakspeare — " I like not such grinning honors 
 as Sir Walter hath ! " 
 
 POSTS and PLACES— It was a complaint of D'Alembert, 
 that men so completely exhausted their industry in canvassing 
 for places, as to haVe none left for the performance of their 
 duties. Query — Have public men improved in this respect 
 since the days of D'Alembert ? 
 
 POVERTY — To the generous-minded, it is the greatest 
 evil of a narrow fortune that they must sometimes taste the 
 humiliation of receiving, and can rarely enjoy the luxury of 
 conferring benefits. None can feel for the poor so well as the 
 poor, and none, therefore, can so well appreciate the painfull- 
 ness of being unable to relieve the distress with which they 
 so keenly sympathize. 
 
 Eiches, it was once observed, only keep out the single evil 
 of poverty. True ! was the reply — but how much good do 
 they let in ! Whatever may be the talents of a poor man, 
 they will not have their fair share of influence ; for few will 
 respect the understanding that is of so little advantage to its 
 owner, and still fewer is the number of those who will doubt 
 the abilities that have made a fool rich. Nevertheless, there 
 are many chances in favor of the sufferers under impecunio- 
 sity ; for, if Necessity be the mother of Invention, Poverty is 
 the father of Industry ; and the child of such parents has a 
 much better prospect of achieving honors and distinction than 
 the rich man's son. Chief Justice Kenyon once said to a 
 wealthy friend, who asked his opinion as to the probable sue- 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 205 
 
 cess of his son at the bar, " Let him spend his own fortune 
 forthwith ; marry, and spend his wife's, and then he may be 
 expected to apply with energy to his profession." 
 
 PEACTICE — does not always make perfect. Cnrran, 
 when told by his physician, that he seemed to cough with 
 more difficulty, replied, " That is odd enough, for I have been 
 practising all night." 
 
 PRAISE — That which costs us nothing, and which we are, 
 nevertheless, the most unwilling to bestow upon others, even 
 where it is most due, though we sometimes claim it the more 
 for ourselves, the less we deserve it ; not reflecting that the 
 breath of self-eulogy soils the face of the speaker, even as the 
 censer is dimmed by the smoke of its own perfume. 
 
 "Which of us would desiderate the expressive silence recom- 
 mended by Scaliger as the most appropriate compliment to 
 Yirgil? u De Virgilio nunquam loquendum ; nam omnes 
 omnium laudes superaV Few people thank you for praising 
 the qualities they really possess; to win their hearts, you 
 must eulogize those in which they are deficient. As this is 
 the most subtle of all flattery, so is it the most acceptable. In 
 general, we have little reason to be grateful to those who 
 speak the strict truth of us, and we are the more bound to 
 acknowledge the kindness of those who flatter us by agree- 
 able falsehoods. Stratonice, the bald wife of Seleucus, gave six 
 hundred crowns to a poet who extolled the beauty and pro- 
 fusion of her hair. One thing I would counsel to authors — 
 never to make any allusion to themselves. If from sheer 
 modesty, they speak disparagingly of their own works, their 
 averments are set down for gospel ; if they assume the smallest 
 modicum of merit, their claim is cited as an instance of inor- 
 dinate vanity. Silence is sapience. 
 
 The best praise which you can bestow on an author, or an 
 artist, is to show that you have* studied and understand his 
 works. When Augustin Caracci pronounced a long discourse 
 in honor of the Laocoon, all were astonished that his brother 
 Annibal said nothing of that celebrated chef-d'oeuvre. Divining 
 
206 THE TIN TKUMPET. 
 
 * 
 
 their thoughts, the latter took a piece of chalk, and drew the 
 group against the wall as accurately as if he had it before his 
 eyes ; a silent panegyric, which no rhetoric could have sur- 
 passed. 
 
 " Our praise of beginners," says Eochefoucauld, " often 
 proceeds from our envy of those who have already succeeded." 
 This is a secret well known to critics ; but they do not seem 
 to be aware that sincerely to praise merit is, in some degree, 
 to share it. 
 
 PRAYER— 
 
 " Prayer highest soars when she most prostrate lies, 
 And when she supplicates she storms the skies. 
 Thus to gain heaven may seem an easy task, 
 For what can be more easy than to ask ? 
 Yet oft we do by sad experience find, 
 That, clogged with earth, some prayers are left behind, 
 And some like chaff blown off by every wind. 
 To kneel is easy, to pronounce not hard, 
 Then why are some petitioners debarr'd ? 
 Hear what an ancient oracle declared : , 
 Some sing their prayers, and some their prayers «ay, 
 He's an Elias, who his prayers can pray. 
 Eeader, remember, when you next repair 
 To church or closet, this memoir of prayer." 
 
 PRECEPT — without example, is like a waterman who 
 looks one way and rows another. What avails the knowledge 
 of good and evil, if we do what we ought to avoid, and avoid 
 what we ought to do ? A direction post may point out the 
 right road, without being obliged to follow it ; but human 
 finger posts, especially teachers and preachers, have not the 
 same privilege. "When a man's life gives the lie to his tongue, 
 we naturally believe the former, rather than the latter. Phar- 
 isaical professions are but as a tinkling cymbal ; we cannot 
 listen patiently to the voice of the hypocrite, charm he never 
 so wisely ; but there is a silent eloquence in the morality of a 
 whole life, that is irresistibly. Precept and example, like the 
 blades of a pair of scissors, are admirably adapted to their 
 end, when conjoined : separated they lose the greater portion 
 of iheir utility. Tertullian says, that even our writings blush 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 207 
 
 when our actions do not correspond with them. Ought not 
 this inconsistency rather to produce a contrary effect, and to 
 prevent our writings from heing read ? 
 
 He who teaches what he does not perform, may be com- 
 pared to a sun-dial on the front of a house, which instructs 
 the passenger, but not the tenant. " Equidem beato's puto" 
 says Pliny, " quibus Deorum munere datum est, out facer e 
 scribenda, aut legenda scribere ; beatissimos vere quibus utrim- 
 que. Happy are they to whom the gods have given the 
 power, either to perform actions worthy to be recorded, or to 
 write things worthy to be read: happier still are they in 
 whom both powers are united." 
 
 PKECOCIOUS CHILDREN— whose early intellectual de- 
 velopment is often the harbinger of a premature decay, may 
 be compared to Pliny's Amygdala, or almond tree, of which 
 the early buds and immature fruits were cut off by the frosts 
 of spring. 
 
 PKESS — The steam-engine of moral power, which, directed 
 by the spirit of the age, will eventually crush imposture, 
 superstition, and tyranny. The liberty of the press is the true 
 measure of all other liberty, for all freedom without this must 
 be merely nominal. To stifle the nascent thought is a moral 
 infanticide, a treason against human nature. "What can a man 
 call his own, if his thought does not belong to him ? King 
 HezeMas is the first recorded enemy to the liberty of the 
 press : he suppressed a book which treated of the virtues of 
 plants, for fear it should be abused, and engender maladies ; a 
 shrewd and notable reason, well worthy of a modern attor- 
 ney-general. 
 
 PRIDE—" My brethren," said Swift in a sermon, " there 
 are three sorts of pride — of birth, of riches, and of talents. I 
 shall not now speak of the latter, none of you being liable to 
 that abominable vice." 
 
 If we add to our pride, what we cut off from less favorite 
 
208 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 faults, we are merely taking our errors out of one pocket to 
 put them into another. 
 
 PEIMOGENITUEE— Disinheriting a whole unoffending 
 family, in order that the accident of an accident, viz., the 
 eldest son of an eldest son, very possibly the last in merit, 
 though the first in birth, may be endowed with the patrimony 
 of his brothers and sisters, each of whom may exclaim — 
 
 " Sum pauper, non culpa mea, sed culpa parentum, 
 Qui me fratre meo non genuere prius." 
 
 Equally opposite to nature, reason, morality, and sound pol- 
 icy, this barbarous remnant of the doctrine which maintains 
 the many to be made for the few, not the few for the many, 
 has been a pregnant source of private as well as public corrup- 
 tion. The father whose estate is entailed has lost much of his 
 moral influence over his children, being equally unable to reward 
 the duty and affection of the juniors, or to control and punish 
 the excesses of his heir, whose independence too often occa- 
 sions him to be prematurely extravagant, profligate, and un- 
 filial. 
 
 " I must live," sorrowfully exclaimed a poor cadet, when 
 soliciting a small loan from the heir of a rich family. " Je 
 ii'en vols pas la necessite," was the brother's reply. 
 
 It has been urged that the abolition of primogeniture and 
 entail would rapidly pauperize the land, by its continual sub- 
 division into small allotments. But it is already pauperized, 
 where it is not fattened into disease ; for the few are as much 
 too rich, as the many are too poor ; and if that be the best 
 system which confers the greatest happiness upon the greatest 
 number, a more equal distribution of the general wealth would 
 surely be an improvement for all. The fine arts might suffer, 
 for want of wealthy patrons ; but the useful arts would receive 
 an impulse from the greater diffusion of competency; and 
 what would be gained in the latter direction might well atone 
 for the loss in the former. A nation may pay too dear for the 
 arts. It is, doubtless, fine to talk of an Augustan era, and 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 209 
 
 Augustus himself was said to boast that he had found Rome 
 of brick, and left it of marble ; but if he had added, as in truth 
 he might, that he had found Eome free, and had left it en- 
 slaved, what patriot would not have felt the city dishonored 
 by its architectural honors ? 
 
 The constant reports in our papers, of lawsuits between 
 relations, mostly originating in the unjust system of primo- 
 geniture, reminds one of Malherbe, when he was reproached 
 for being always at law with his family. " With whom, 
 then," he asked, " would you have me be at variance ? The 
 Turks and Muscovites will not quarrel with me." 
 
 It was well said, by one whose elder brother, a dissolute 
 and unhappy man, had been vaunting the extent of the family 
 estate — " I should envy you for what you have, did I not pity 
 you for what you are." The same, when once walking with 
 his senior, suddenly seized his arms, hurried him on, and ex- 
 claimed, with a look of pretended alarm — " Away ! away ! 
 your life is in danger — save me from the entailed estate !" — at 
 the same time pointing to a board set up in an old gravel pit, 
 with the following inscription — " Any one may shoot rubbish 
 here." T. H. is made responsible for the truth of this anec- 
 dote, though it may possibly be as old as the venerable Jose- 
 phus Molitor. 
 
 PROGRESS — Nothing is more common or more stupid, 
 than to take the actual for the possible — to believe that all 
 which is, is all which can be ; first, to laugh at every proposed 
 deviation from practice as impossible — then, when it is carried 
 into effect, to be astonished that it did not take place before. 
 
 The world owes all its onward impulses to men ill at ease. 
 The happy man inevitably confines himself within ancient 
 limits. 
 
 PROVERBS— Brief. fallacies. Thus, "Never put off till 
 to-morrow what you can do to-day," which is one of " Poor 
 Richard's" rascally and narrow-minded maxims, by which he 
 inculcated the divine duty of making money, is notably con- 
 tradicted by Aaron Burr who says, " Never do to-day what 
 
210 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 you can put off till to-morrow," for something may occur to 
 make you regret your premature action. 
 • There is, however, one proverb worthy of all commenda- 
 tion :• " Never judge a book by the cover." It is to be hoped 
 that the buyer of this book will form his judgment upon a 
 perusal of the inside. 
 
 PBUDERY — The innocence of the vicious — external sanc- 
 timony, assumed as a cover for internal laxity. Whenever we 
 smell musk or other pungent perfumes, we may fairly suspect 
 that the wearer must have some strong effluvium to conquer ; 
 and where we observe a Pharisaical display of prudery and 
 piety, we shall seldom err in pronouncing that it is the disguise 
 of some wolf in sheep's clothing. A nice man, according to 
 Swift, is a man of nasty ideas ; and a pretender to superior 
 purity will often be found much dirtier than his neighbors. 
 Some of these Pharisees will occasionally betray themselves 
 by over-acting their part. " I never saw such an indelicate 
 gentleman as that at the opposite house ! " exclaimed a young 
 female saint ; " he must have seen that I did not choose to pull 
 down the blind, and yet he has been watching me the whole 
 time I have been changing my dress." Two damsels, of the 
 same puritanical stamp, encountering Dr. Johnson, shortly 
 after the publication of his Dictionary, complimented him on 
 his having omitted all the gross and objectionable words. 
 " What, my dears ! " said the doctor, " have you been looking 
 out for them already ? " 
 
 PUN'S — The wit of words. They are exactly the same to 
 words which wit is to ideas, and -consist in the sudden dis- 
 covery of relations in language. A pun, to be perfect in its 
 kind, should contain two distinct meanings ; the one common 
 and obvious, the other more remote : and in the notice 
 which the mind takes of the relation between these two sets 
 of words, and in the surprise which* that relation excites, the 
 pleasure of a pun consists. Miss Hamilton, in her book on 
 education, mentions the instance of a boy so very neglectful 
 that he could never be brought to read the word patriardis ; 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 211 
 
 but whenever he met with it he always pronounced it par- 
 tridges. A friend of the writer observed to her, that it could 
 hardly be considered as a mere piece of negligence, for it ap- 
 peared to him that the boy, in calling them partridges, was 
 making game of the patriarchs. Now here are two distinct 
 meanings contained in the same phrase : for to make game of 
 the patriarchs is to laugh at them ; or to make game of them 
 is, by a very extravagant and laughable sort of ignorance of 
 words, to rank them among pheasants, partridges, and other 
 such delicacies, which the law takes under its protection and 
 calls game; and the whole pleasure derived from this pun 
 consists in the sudden discovery that two such different mean- 
 ings are referable to one form of expression. Puns are in very 
 bad repute, and so they ought to be. The wit of language is 
 so miserably inferior to the wit of ideas that it is very de- 
 servedly driven out of good company. Sometimes, indeed, a 
 pun makes its appearance which seems for a moment to 
 redeem its species ; [see this work passim for such redeeming 
 specimens ;] but we must not be deceived by them : it is a 
 radically bad race of wit. By unremitting persecution it has 
 been at last got under, and driven into cloisters, — from whence 
 it must never again be suffered to emerge into the light of the 
 world. One invaluable blessing produced by the banishment 
 of punning is, an immediate reduction of the number of wits. 
 It is a wit of so low an order, and in which some sort of prog- 
 ress is so easily made, that the number of those endowed 
 with the gift of wit would be nearly equal to those endowed 
 with the gift of speech. The condition of putting together 
 ideas in order to be witty operates much in the same salutary 
 manner as the condition of finding rhymes in poetry ; — it 
 reduces the number of performers, to those who have vigor 
 enough to overcome incipient difficulties, and makes a sort of 
 provision that that which need not be done at all, should be 
 done well whenever it is done. 
 
 A gentleman named Cary, expressing an uncertainty to 
 what profession he should devote the younger Cary, Lamb 
 said, " Make him an apotheCary." 
 
 " Don't be yarning with that fellow," said I to a friend 
 
212 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 who was talking to an old salt. " Do you think I should be 
 worsted ? " was the interrogative reply. 
 
 In my high opinion of Lord Brougham, I have sometimes 
 been too prone to fatigue my friends with his praises ; a ten- 
 dency which, upon one occasion, elicited a pun bad enough to 
 be recorded. My assertion, that he was the greatest man in 
 England, being warmly contested, I loudly exclaimed, " Where 
 is there a greater?" — "Here!" said the punchmaking T. H., 
 with a look of exquisite simplicity, at the same time holding 
 up a nutmeg grater. 
 
 PUNISHMENTS — being meant for prevention, not revenge, 
 should be so regulated — " ut pcena ad paucos, metus ad omnes 
 perveniaV "Wise is that maxim which says, " Non minus 
 turpe principi multa supplicia, quam medico multa funera ; " 
 and yet we have only lately made the discovery in England, 
 that hanging is the very worst use that a man can be put to. 
 
 Some writers have thought that the state should be not less 
 solicitous to recompense good deeds, than to punish evil ones ; 
 but, perhaps, it is better not to disturb the moralizing impres- 
 sion, that virtue is its own best reward. The noblest actions, 
 too, would instantly become liable to a tainting suspicion of 
 motives, if the virtues were to be scheduled, and remunerated 
 according to a fixed tariff. Experience has shown us to what 
 infamous purposes the rewards for the apprehension of male- 
 factors have been perverted by trading informers, and other 
 dealers in blood money. 
 
 Disproportionate punishments are attended with five evils : 
 they deter prosecutors from coming forward — they draw 
 attention to the crime — awaken pity for the criminal — excite 
 hatred of the law — and occasion the magnitude of the tempta- 
 tion to offence to be measured by the magnitude of the punish- 
 ment. 
 
 PURGATOKY— One of the few inventions of priestcraft 
 that almost deserves to be true ; for a medium was wanting 
 between the two extremes of perdition and salvation. Que- 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 213 
 
 vedo, in his Visions, tells us, that an old Spanish nobleman 
 once met his coachman in purgatory, when the latter exclaimed 
 • — " O master, master ! what can ever have brought so good a 
 Catholic as you into this miserable place ?" — " Ah, my worthy 
 Pedro ! I am justly punished for spoiling that reprobate son of 
 mine. But you, who were ever such a sober, steady, well- 
 conducted man, what can have brought you hither ? " — " Ah, 
 master, master ! " snivelled Pedro, " I am brought here for 
 being the father of that reprobate son of yours ! " 
 
 "QUABBELS — would never last long," says Bochefou- 
 cauld, "if the fault were only on one side." The Spanish 
 proverb, which tells us to beware of a reconciled friend, incul- 
 cates an ungenerous suspicion. In the case of lovers, we 
 have the authority of Terence for affirming that — Amantium 
 ira amoris redintegratio est; and many are the instances 
 among friends, where a momentary rupture has only served to 
 consolidate the subsequent attachment, as the broken bone, 
 that is well set, usually becomes stronger than it was before. 
 
 QUIBBLE — QUIBK — QUIDDET — See Law Proceed- 
 ings. " True !' cried a lady, when reproached with the 
 inconsistent marriage she had made; "I have often said I 
 never would marry a parson, or a Scotchman, or a Presbyte- 
 rian ; but I never said I would not marry a Scotch Presbyte- 
 rian parson." 
 
 Boger Kemble's wife had been forbidden to marry an 
 actor, and her father was inexorable at her disobedience; 
 but, after having seen her husband on the stage, he relented, 
 and forgave her, with the observation of, " "Well, well, I see 
 you have not disobeyed me after all ; for the man is not an 
 actor, and never will be an actor." 
 
 QUID PBO QUO— Every one has heard the reply of Mon- 
 tague Matthew, when he was spoken to for Matthew Mon- 
 tague, — that there is a great difference between a chestnut horse 
 and a horse chestnut ; but this seems to have been forgotten, 
 nevertheless, by an unlucky wight, who, being engaged to dine 
 
214 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 at the Green Man at Dulwich, desired to be driven to the Dull 
 Man, at Greenwich, and lost his dinner by a quid pro quo. 
 
 T. H. observed of the mate of a Whitby merchant ship, who 
 could do nothing without his quid, that he had classical authority 
 for " Nil actum reputans dum quid superesset agendum." 
 
 QUILLS — are things that are sometimes taken from the 
 pinions of one goose to spread the opinions of another ! 
 
 RAILLERY — has been compared to a light which dazzles, 
 but does not burn : this, however, depends on the skill with 
 which it is managed ; for many a man, without extracting its 
 brilliance, may burn his fingers in playing with this dangerous 
 pyrotechnic. Pleasant enough to make game of your friends, 
 by shooting your wit at them, but if your merry bantering 
 degenerates into coarse and offensive personality, nobody 
 will pity you, should you chance to be knocked down by the 
 recoil of your own weapon. He who gives pain, however little, 
 must not complain should it be retorted with a disproportionate 
 severity ; for retaliation always adds interest in paying off old 
 scores, and sometimes a very usurious one. Wags should 
 recollect, that the amusement of fencing with one's friends is 
 very different from the anatomical process of cutting them up. 
 
 A coxcomb, not very remarkable for the acuteness of his 
 feelings or his wit, wishing to banter a testy old gentleman, 
 who had lately garnished his mouth with a complete set of 
 false teeth, flippantly inquired, — " Well, my good sir ! I have 
 often heard you complain of your masticators — pray, when do 
 you expect to be again troubled with the tooth-ache?" — 
 " When you have an affection of the heart, or a brain fever," 
 was the reply. Not less ready and biting was the retort of 
 the long-eared Irishman, who, being banteringly asked, — " Pad- 
 dy, my jewel ! why don't you get your ears cropped ? They 
 are too large for a man ! " replied — " And yours are too small 
 for an ass." 
 
 A well-known scapegrace, wishing to rally a friend who 
 had a morbid horror of death, asked him, as they were passing a 
 country church during the performance of a funeral, whether 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 215 
 
 the tolling "bell did not put him in mind of his latter end. 
 " No ; but the rope does of yours," was the caustic rely. 
 
 REASON — The proud prerogative which confers on man 
 the exclusive privilege of acting and conversing irrationally. 
 No man is opposed to reason, unless reason is opposed to him • 
 to protest against it, is to confess that you fear it, and they 
 who interdict its use, on account of the danger of its abuse, 
 may as well build a house without windows, for fear the light- 
 ning should enter it, or put out their eyes, lest they should 
 go astray. To give reasons against the employment of reason, 
 is to refute yourself, and to close up your mind till it resembles 
 the bower described by Shakspeare, — 
 
 " Where honeysuckles, ripened by the sun, 
 Forbid the sun to enter." 
 
 Prohibiting the exercise of this faculty, in matters of opin- 
 ion, is but an imitation of the Papists, who will not allow the 
 senses to be judges in the case of transubstantiation. Strange ! 
 that instinct, which is the reason of animals, is to be allowed 
 to the feathered, and not to the featherless biped. These 
 irrationalists seem to think, that the intellectual faculties of 
 man are like hemlock and henbane, poisonous to the human, 
 but not to the feathered race — Hyosciamus et cicula homines 
 perimunt, avibus alimentum prmbent. Reason, however, does 
 us all yeoman's service in the defence of any thing unreason- 
 able. When Paley was asked why he always kept his horse 
 three miles off, he replied, " For exercise." " But you never 
 ride." u That is the reason why I keep him at such a distance, 
 for I get all the exercise of the walk." 
 
 Still more ingenious was the logic of the schoolboy, whose 
 companion thought it absurd that Homer should describe 
 Vulcan as being a whole day in falling from the clouds to the 
 earth. " Nay," argued the acute youth, " this shows his close 
 adherence to nature ; for you can hardly expect Vulcan to 
 fall as fast as another man, when you recollect that he was 
 lame." His lameness being the consequence of his fall, it must 
 
216 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 be confessed, that there was unreasonableness enough in this 
 reason to satisfy the most zealous irrationalist. 
 
 RECREATION— (says Bishop Hall) is intended to the 
 mind as whetting is to the scythe, to sharpen the edge of it, 
 which otherwise would grow dull and blunt. He, therefore, 
 that spends his whole time in recreation is ever whetting, 
 never mowing ; his grass may grow and his steed may starve ; 
 as, contrarily, he that always toils and never recreates, is ever 
 mowing, never whetting ; laboring much to little purpose. 
 
 EEFOEM — An adaptation of institutions to circumstances 
 and knowledge, or a restoration to the original purposes, from 
 which they have been perverted, demanded as a right by those 
 who are suffering wrongs, and only denied and abused by those 
 who have been fattening upon abuse. The real Conservatives 
 are the Keformers, the real revolutionists are the corruptionists, 
 who, by opposing quiet, will compel violent change. "When 
 the ultras, and men of this class, whose long misrule and 
 denial of justice have inflamed the public mind, charge the 
 Reformers with having thrown the whole country into a blaze, 
 thus accusing the extinguisher of being the firebrand, one is 
 reminded of the incendiary, who A in order to avoid detection, 
 turned round and collared the foreman of the engines, exclaim- 
 ing, " Ha, fellow ! have I caught you ? This is the rascal who 
 is first and foremost at every fire — seize him ! seize him ! " 
 There is no Reform Bill in Turkey, — no factious opposition, — 
 no free press, — no twopenny trash, — yet in no country are 
 revolutions so frequent. 
 
 Reform, however, to be useful and durable, must be gradual 
 and cautious. To those radical gentry of the movement party, 
 who would be always at work, without calculating the mischief 
 or the cost of their vaunted improvements, I recommend the 
 consideration of the following anecdote : — The celebrated 
 orator Henley advertised, that, in a single lecture, he would 
 teach any artisan of ordinary skill how to make six pair of 
 good shoes in one day ; — nay, six-and-twenty pair, provided 
 there was a sufficiency of materials. The sons of Crispin 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 217 
 
 flocked in crowds, willingly paying a shilling at the door, to 
 be initiated in such a lucrative art, when they beheld the 
 orator seated at a table, on which were placed six pair of new 
 boots. " Gentlemen ! " he exclaimed, " nothing is so simple 
 and easy as the art which I have undertaken to teach you. 
 Here are a new pair of boots,— here a large pair of scissors; — 
 behold ! I cut off the legs of the boots, and you have a new 
 pair of shoes, without the smallest trouble ; and thus may they 
 be multiplied, ad infinitum, supposing always that you have a 
 sufficiency of materials." 
 
 EELIGIOJST — has been called an insurance against fire in 
 the next world, whereof honesty is the best policy. Sydney 
 Smith says that people often imagine themselves pious when 
 they are only bilious ; by which he meant that they do not 
 properly appreciate the difference between a serious disposition 
 and a serious indisposition. It has been well said that some 
 men's religious opinion is only a stake driven in the ground — 
 does not grow — shoots out no green — remains just there, and 
 just so. 
 
 RELIGION" — Fashionable — Going to church; making 
 devotion a matter of public form and observance between man 
 and man, instead of a governing principle, or silent communion 
 between the heart and its Creator ; — converting the accessory 
 into the principal, and mistaking the symbol and stimulant of 
 pious inspiration for the inspirer ; — worshipping the type, 
 instead of the archetype ; — being visibly devout, that is to 
 say, when anybody sees you. 
 
 RELIGION — General — An accidental inheritance, for 
 which, whether it be good or bad, we deserve neither praise 
 nor censure, provided that we are sincere and virtuous. 
 
 Let us not, however, be mistaken. Far be it from us to 
 assert, that men should be indifferent to the choice of religion, 
 still less that all are alike. "We maintain only, that in the 
 great majority of instances, little or no choice is allowed ; 
 and it is our object to inculcate that humility as to our own 
 10 
 
218 
 
 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 opinions, and that toleration for others, in which the most 
 devout are very apt to be the most deficient. 
 
 " Keligion is the mind's complexion, 
 Govern'd by birth, not self-election, 
 And the great mass of us adore 
 Just as our fathers did before. 
 "Why should we, then, ourselves exalt 
 
 For what we casually inherit, 
 Or view, in others, as a fault, 
 What, in ourselves, we deem a merit ? " 
 
 The religion that renders good men gloomy and unhappy, 
 can scarcely be a true one. Dr. Blair says, in his Sermon on 
 Devotion, " He who does not feel joy in religion, is far from 
 the kingdom of heaven." Never can a slavish and cowering 
 fear afford a proper basis for the religion of so dignified a 
 creature as man, who, in paying honor, must feel that he keeps 
 his honor, and is not disunited from himself, even in his com- 
 munion with God. Eeverence of ourselves is, in fact, the high- 
 est of all reverences ; for, in the image of the Deity, we recog- 
 nize the prototype ; and thus elevated in soul, we may humbly 
 strive to imitate the divine virtues, without pride or presump- 
 tion. Religion has been designated as the love of the good 
 and the fair, wherever it exists, but chiefly when absolute and 
 boundless excellence is contemplated in " the first good, first 
 perfect, and first fair." "With this feeling in their hearts, the 
 virtues could never wander from the right faith ; and yet, how 
 many good men seek it amid the dry spinosities and tortuous 
 labyrinths of theology ! It was a homely saying of Selden, 
 " that men look after religion, as the butcher did after his knife, 
 when he had it in his mouth." 
 
 Even a sincere religion may be unconsciously mixed up 
 with carnal impulses ; for when we cannot bring heaven down 
 to earth, we are very apt to take earth up to heaven. That 
 ardent adoration of the Virgin Mary, which has procured for 
 Catholicism the not inappropriate designation of the Marian 
 Eeligion, was derived probably from the days of chivalry, 
 when a sexual feeling impassioned the worship paid to the 
 celestial idol, and a devout enthusiasm sanctified the homage 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 219 
 
 offered to the earthly one. These spiritual lovers would have 
 done well to perpend the fine saying of the philosopher, Mar- 
 cus Antoninus — " Thou wilt never do any thing purely human 
 in a right manner, unless thou knowest the relation it bears to 
 things divine ; or any thing divine, unless thou knowest all the 
 relations it has to things human." 
 
 KELIGION — PUEE AND TTNDEFILED BEFOEE GOD AND THE 
 
 Fathek — We have placed this last, because it is the last that 
 enters into the contemplation of the numerous classes of 
 Christians, most of whom are too busy in fashioning some fan- 
 tastical religion of their own, to seek for it in the Scriptures. 
 The devout and rational reader is referred to the twenty-seventh 
 verse of the first chapter of James. And if he still harbor 
 a doubt which be the works of the flesh, and which of 
 the Spirit, let him peruse St. Paul's Epistle to the Galatians, 
 chap. v. vers. 19-26. 
 
 KEPAETEE — A smart rejoinder, which, when given 
 impromptu, even though it should be so hard a hit as to merit 
 the name of a knock-down blow, will still stand excused, partly 
 from the ready wit it implies, and partly from its always 
 bearing the semblance of self-defence. When time, however, 
 has been taken to concept a retort, and an opportunity sought 
 for launching it, not only does it lose all the praise of extempo- 
 raneous quickness, but it assumes a character of revenge rather 
 than of repartee. 
 
 Those repartees are the best which turn your adversary's 
 weapons against himself, as David killed Goliath with his own 
 sword. Aberhethy, the celebrated surgeon, finding a large pile 
 of paving stones opposite to his door, on his returning home 
 one afternoon in his carriage, swore hastily at the pavior, and 
 desired him to remove them. " Where will I take them to ? " 
 asked the Hibernian. " To hell ! " cried the choleric surgeon. 
 Paddy leant upon his rammer, and then looking up in his 
 face, said with an arch smile, " Hadn't I better take them to 
 heaven ? — sure they'd be more out of your honor's way." 
 
 The. Earl of Rutland (Manners) said to Sir Thomas More, 
 
220 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 when the latter was knighted, "Honores mutant Mores.'''' " It 
 will do better in English," was the retort : " Honors change 
 Manners." 1,1 
 
 REPLY — a ready one. " Carnivorous animals," said a 
 
 collegian to the Rev. S. S , "are always provided with' 
 
 claws and talons to seize their prey ; hoofed animals are 
 invariably graminivorous. Is it, therefore, consistent with 
 the analogies of nature to describe the devil when he goes 
 about seeking whom he may devour, as having a cloven 
 foot?" "Yes," replied the divine.; "for we are assured, on 
 scriptural authority, that all flesh is grass." Few better replies 
 are upon record than that of the young polemic, to whom 
 a bishop once said, " If you will tell me where God is, I will 
 give you an orange ? " "If you will tell me where He is not, I 
 will give you two," was the child's answer. 
 
 REQUEST— a modest one. "When the Duke of Ormonde 
 was made Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, in Queen Anne's 
 reign, one of his friends applied to him for some preferment, 
 adding that he was by no means particular, and was willing to 
 accept either a bishopric, or a regiment of horse — or to be 
 mad e Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench. This, however, is 
 surpassed by Horace Walpole's anecdote of a humane jailer in 
 Oxfordshire, who made the following application to one of his 
 condemned prisoners : " My good friend ! I have a little favor 
 to ask of you, which, from your obliging disposition, I doubt 
 not you will grant. You are ordered for execution on Friday 
 week. I have a particular engagement on that day : if it makes 
 no difference to you, would you say next Friday instead ? " 
 
 RESOLUTION" — He who sets out by considering all obsta- 
 cles well — non obstantibus quibuscunque, has half-accomplished 
 his purpose, for the difficulty in human affairs is more often in 
 the mind of the undertaker, than in the nature of the under- 
 taking. With this feeling, and the nil actum reputans dum 
 quid superesset agendum, — nothing is impossible. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 221 
 
 RESPECTABILITY — Keeping up appearances, paying 
 your bills regularly, walking out now and then with your 
 wife, and going occasionally to church. On the trial of a 
 murderer, a neighbor deposed that he had always considered 
 him a person of the highest respectability, as he had kept a gig 
 for several years. This could only have occurred in England, 
 where it is held that a man who is worth money, must be a 
 man of worth. 
 
 RETIREMENT — from business. A mistake in those who 
 have not an occupation to retire to, as well as from. Such men 
 are never so well or so happily employed, as when they are 
 following the avocation which use has made a second nature 
 to them. The retired butcher in the neighborhood of Whitby, 
 must have found idleness hard work, when he gave notice to 
 his friends, that he should kill a lamb every Thursday, just 
 by way of amusement. 
 
 RETORT-COURTEOUS—" I said his beard was not cut 
 well ; he was in the mind it was ; this is called the retort-cour- 
 teous," says one of the characters in Shakspeare ; but this lucus 
 d non lucendo, does not come up to our modern idea of the 
 term, which should involve some portion of the sharpness or 
 smartness of a repartee. Lord G , who is vehemently sus- 
 pected of being descended from Ferdinand Mendez Pinto, since 
 he never opens his mouth without fibbing, made some dis- 
 paraging statement at White's concerning one of the members. 
 The party implicated, who happened to overhear him, came 
 up to his accuser, and said emphatically, " My Lord, you have 
 made an assertion," inferring, as a matter of course, that he 
 had uttered a falsehood. It is impossible to imagine a more 
 polite, and yet more cutting way of giving the lie. 
 
 Two of the guests at a public dinner having got into an 
 altercation, one of them, a blustering vulgarian, vociferated, 
 " Sir, you are no gentleman !" " Sir," said his opponent in a 
 calm voice, and with a derisive smile, " you are no judge." 
 Both these dons mots are complete and literal instances of the 
 retort-courteous. 
 
222 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 There are retorts uncourteous, which can only be justified 
 by the occasion. Talleyrand being pestered with importunate 
 questions by a squinting man, concerning his broken leg, 
 replied, " It is quite crooked, — as you see." 
 
 H. , a keen sportsman, provoked by a cockney horse- 
 man who had ridden over two of his hounds, could not forbear 
 swearing at him for his awkwardness. "Sir!" said the 
 offender, drawing up both himself and his horse, and assuming 
 a very consequential look, " I beg to inform you, that I did 
 not come out here to be damned." — " Why then, sir, you may 
 go home and be damned." 
 
 " Ah ! Dr. Johnson," exclaimed a Scotchman, " what 
 would you have said of Buchanan, had he been an English- 
 man?" ""Why, sir," replied Johnson, "I should not have 
 said of Buchanan, had he been an Englishman, what I will 
 now say of him as a Scotchman, that he was the only man of 
 genius his country ever produced." 
 
 REVENGE — A momentary triumph, of which the satisfac- 
 tion dies at once, and is succeeded by remorse ; whereas for- 
 giveness, which is the noblest of all revenges, entails a perpetual 
 pleasure. It was well said by a Eoman emperor, that he 
 wished to put an end to all his enemies, by converting them 
 into friends. 
 
 REVIEW — A work that overlooks the productions it pro- 
 fesses to look over, and judges of books by their authors, not 
 of authors by their books. 
 
 RHETORIC — Appealing to the passions instead of the 
 reason of your auditors, and claiming that value for the work- 
 manship, which ought to be measured by the ore alone. An 
 orator is one who can stamp such a value upon counterfeit 
 coin as shall make^it pass for genuine. Rhetoric, says Plato, 
 is the art of ruling the minds of men. Rhetoric, says a later 
 writer, is the application of logic to mankind. By reasoning 
 we satisfy ourselves. By rhetoric we satisfy others. " Ora- 
 tory," said Dr. Johnson, " is the power of beating down your 
 adversary's arguments, and putting better in their places." 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 223 
 
 Most modern orators and rhetoricians content tnemselves with 
 fulfilling the first part only of this proposition. It is well said 
 by Lord Herbert of Oherbury, that there are two parts of elo- 
 quence necessary and recommendable ; one is, to speak hard 
 things plainly, so that when a knotty or intricate business, 
 having no method or coherence in its parts, shall be presented, 
 it will be a singular part of oratory to take those parts asunder, 
 set them together aptly, and so exhibit them to the under- 
 standing. And this part of rhetoric I much commend to every- 
 body ; there being no true use of speech but to make things 
 clear, perspicuous, and manifest, which otherwise would be 
 perplexed, doubtful, and obscure. 
 
 Sydney Smith, in his celebrated Peter Plimley letters, affords 
 a notable illustration of the powers of rhetoric in written elo- 
 quence. As instance this passage, apropos of the English 
 Embargo act, by which, among other things, drugs were for the 
 moment excluded from France : Such a project is well worthy 
 the statesman who would bring the French to reason by keep- 
 ing them without rhubarb, and exhibit to mankind the awful 
 spectacle of a nation deprived of neutral salts. This is not the 
 dream of a wild apothecary indulging in his own opium ; this is 
 not the distempered fancy of a pounder of drugs, delirious from 
 smallness of profits ; but it is the sober, deliberate, and systematic 
 scheme of a man to whom the public safety is intrusted, and 
 whose appointment is considered by many as a masterpiece of 
 political sagacity. What a sublime thought, that no purge can 
 now be taken between the Weser and the Garonne ; that the 
 bustling pestle is still, the canorous mortar mute, and the bowels 
 of mankind locked up for fourteen degrees of latitude ! When, 
 I should be curious to know, were all the powers of crudity 
 and flatulence fully explained to his majesty's ministers ? At 
 what period was this great plan of conquest and constipation 
 fully developed ? In whose mind was the idea of destroying 
 the pride, and the plasters of France first engendered ? With- 
 out castor oil they might, for some months, to .be sure, have 
 carried on a lingering war ; but can they do without bark ? 
 Will the people live under a government where antimonial 
 powders cannot be procured. Will they bear the loss of mer- 
 
224 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 cury ? " There's the rub." Depend upon it, the absence of 
 the materia medica will soon bring them to their senses, and 
 the cry of Bourbon and bolus burst forth from the Baltic to 
 the Mediterranean. 
 
 EICHES — are seldom really despised, though they may be 
 vilipended upon the principle of the fox, who imputed sourness 
 to the unattainable grapes. We cannot well attach too much 
 value to a competency, or too little to a superfluity, b,ut we 
 may and do err in generally defining the former as a little 
 more than we already .possess. Eiches provide an antidote to 
 their bane, for though they encourage idleness, they will pur- 
 chase occupation, by change of scene, variety of company, 
 pastimes of all sorts, and by that noblest employment of any, 
 the exercise of beneficence. Kobinson Crusoe might despise 
 riches — so may a savage ; but no sane and civilized man will 
 hold them in contempt. 
 
 " If you live," says Seneca, " according to the dictates of 
 nature, you will never be poor ; if according to the notions of 
 the world, you will never be rich." 
 
 ROMAN CATHOLIC RELIGION— Horace Walpole in his 
 Letters mentions a sceptical bon-vivant, who, upon being urged 
 to turn Roman Catholic, objected that it was a religion enjoin- 
 ing so many fasts, and requiring such implicit faith ; — " You 
 give us," he observed, " too little to eat, and too much to 
 swallow." 
 
 SATIRE — A glass in which the beholder sees everybody's 
 face but his own. 
 
 SAW — A sort of dumb alderman which gets through a 
 great deal by the activity of its teeth. — N. B. A bona-fide 
 alderman is not one of the " wise saws " mentioned by Shak- 
 speare, at least in " modern instances." 
 
 SCANDAL — What one half of the world takes a pleasure 
 in inventing, and the other half in believing. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 225 
 
 SCANDALOUS REPORTS— says Boerhaave, are sparks, 
 which if you do not blow them, will go out of themselves. 
 They have, perhaps, been better compared to volcanic explo 
 sions, of which the lighter portions are dispersed by the winds, 
 while the heavier fall back into the mouth whence they were 
 ejected. Scandalous journals, professedly dealing in person- 
 ality and abuse, have been justly termed the opprobrium of 
 the age. Nuisances as they are, it is, perhaps, wise not to 
 molest them, but to let them die of their own stench. Prose- 
 cutions for libel avail little against men of straw, and as to 
 personal chastisement, the rogues 
 
 " Have all been beaten till tbey know 
 What wood the cudgel's of by the blow ; 
 Or kick'd, until they can tell whether 
 A shoe be Spanish or neat leather." 
 
 SCHOOLMASTER— A dealer in boys and birch : often an 
 academical tyrant, who, in his utter ignorance of proper man- 
 agement, renders his victims intractable by maltreatment, and 
 then treats them worse for being intractable. Cudgel a little 
 jackass as often as you will, and if he survives your cruelty, he 
 will only end by being a great jackass. Many of our peda- 
 gogues, ever ready to ply the birch and the ferula, make no 
 allowance for natural deficiency of talent, while they will 
 often terrify a lad of good abilities, but weak nerves, into an 
 asinine stupidity. The boys from whom they gather their 
 harvest, they seem to consider as so much corn, which must 
 be threshed and knocked about the ears before any grains of 
 sense can be extracted ; or perhaps they liken them to walnut 
 trees, which shower down their fruit in return for being well 
 beaten. " The schoolmaster's joy is to flog," says Swift ; 
 since when a hundred years have elapsed, and it still remains 
 the favorite pastime of our pedagogues, who seem to think 
 that boys, as well as syllabubs, are to be raised by flogging. 
 Ships and fishes may make their way when steered by the 
 tail ; but when we attempt to guide or impel youngsters by a 
 similar process, we only retard or turn them out of their right 
 line. Flagellation, whether of pupils or of soldiers, invariably 
 10* 
 
226 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 hardens and depraves those whom it seeks to reclaim. In 
 nothing is a thorough reform so much wanted as in some of 
 our old-fashioned seminaries and teachers. 
 
 An empty-headed youth once boasted that he had been to 
 two of the most celebrated schools in England. " Sir," said a 
 bystander, " you remind me of the calf that sucked two cows." 
 " And what was the consequence ? " " Why, sir, he was a 
 very great calf." 
 
 SCOTCHMEN — The inhabitants of every country except 
 their own. " No wonder," says Dean Lockier, " that we meet 
 with so many clever Scotchmen, for every man of that coun- 
 try, who has any sense, leaves it as fast as he can." 
 
 SCOTT — Sie Walter — Twenty-two bad poets have already 
 written epitaphs upon this celebrated author. What a gain 
 would it be to the world if Sir Walter were now writing 
 theirs ! 
 
 SCULPTURE — The noble art of making an imperishable 
 portrait in marble or bronze. There are various ways of con- 
 templating these exquisite productions of genius. We may be 
 delighted by the beauty of a statue, amazed by the triumph of 
 manual dexterity which it exhibits, or we may be interested 
 in its associations with the past or the future. Or there is a 
 utilitarian and economical way of considering the matter, 
 which was well illustrated by two artisans, when Chantrey's 
 bronze statue of George the Fourth was first exhibited : " What 
 a lot o' penny pieces all this here copper would have made," 
 observed one. — " Ay, never mind, Jack ! " said his compan- 
 ion, pointing at the figure — " it will cost a deal less to keep 
 he, than it does to keep the live un ! " 
 
 A contemporary writer has asked, why we attach so little 
 value to the wax figures in the perfumers' shops, which ap- 
 proach much nearer to nature than the most elaborate marble 
 bust ; but he must have forgotten that all works of art are 
 estimated in the mingled ratio of their difficulty, utility, and 
 permanence, not by their mere similitude to the object hn- 
 
THE TIN TEIXMPET. 227 
 
 ifcated. " You would not value the finest head cut out upon 
 a carrot," said Dr. Johnson. Here he was right, hut he was 
 wrong when he added that the value of statuary was solely 
 owing to its difficulty ; for its durability, we might almost say 
 its perpetuity, gives it an almost immeasurable advantage over 
 a perishable painting. 
 
 SEA — The — Three-fourths of what we might call the earth 
 — the dwelling-place of whales, walruses, porpoises, seals, 
 sailors, and other monsters. 
 
 Strange that we often lose our way in travelling by land, 
 where we have only to follow our nose, pursue the high roads 
 chalked out for us, and read the sign-posts set up for our 
 guidance ; while in traversing the pathless deep, with none to 
 ask, and no sea-marks to direct, with nothing to peruse but 
 the blank main and the illegible sky, a vessel seldom fails, 
 however long and remote may be her voyage, to steer direct 
 into her destined harbor. This is the proudest victory of sci- 
 ence ; the greatest triumph of man over the elements. The 
 little round compass is the ring that marries the most distant 
 nations to each other. Commerce is the parent of civiliza- 
 tion ; the coasts and ports of a country will be always found 
 more polished than the inland parts. The sea, therefore, shall 
 ever receive the homage of my profound respect, but I cannot 
 admire it. Hunt has justly defined it as a great, monotonous 
 idea. So little do I like it, that I care not to dwell upon it, 
 even with my pen. 
 
 SECRETS — A secret is like silence — you cannot talk about 
 it, and keep it ; it is like money— when once you know there is 
 any concealed, it is half discovered. " My dear Murphy ! " said 
 an Irishman to his friend, " why did you betray the secret I told 
 you?" "Is it betraying you call it? Sure, when I found I 
 wasn't able to keep it myself, didn't I do well to tell it to- 
 somebody that could ? " 
 
 SECTS— Different clans of religionists, the very variety 
 and number of. which should inculcate mutual respect and 
 
228 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 toleration, instead of hatred, and that odious self-worship 
 which many people imagine to be worship of the Creator. 
 
 " Embracing those whom Europe holds, 
 The Christian catalogue unfolds 
 
 About a hundred different sects, 
 And due indulgence it should teach 
 To every follower of each ; 
 
 If for a moment he reflects, 
 The chances are against his own, 
 Just as one hundred are to one." 
 
 SELF-LO YE— Thinking the most highly of the individual 
 that least deserves our regard. The self-love of most men 
 consists in pleasing themselves, but there are some cases where 
 it displays itself in pleasing others. In neither is it altogether 
 to be condemned, for our sensibilities may be too weak, as 
 well as too strong, and they who feel little for themselves 
 will feel little or not at all for others. Nothing can be more 
 different than fortitude and insensibility; the one being a 
 noble principle, the other a mere negation ; and yet they are 
 often confounded. 
 
 SERMONS— Sometimes theological opiates — sometimes 
 religious discourses, attended by many who do not attend to 
 them, and when published, purchased by many who do not 
 read them. 
 
 "How comes it," demanded a clergyman of Garrick, 
 " that I, in expounding divine doctrines, produce so little 
 effect upon my congregation, while you can so easily arouse 
 the passions of your auditors by the representation of fiction ?" 
 The answer was short and pithy. " Because I recite false- 
 hoods as if they were true, while you deliver truths as if they 
 were false." 
 
 SERVANTS — Liveried deputies, upon whose tag-rag-and- 
 bobtail shoulders we wear our own pride and ostentation; 
 household sinecurists, who invariably do the less, the less they 
 have to do ; domestic drones, who are often the plagues, and 
 not seldom the masters of their masters. Many who have 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 229 
 
 now become too grand for grand liveries, and will not shoulder 
 the shoulder-knot, are only to be distinguished from those 
 whom they serve by their better looks and figures, and more 
 magisterial air. Let no man expect to be well attended in a 
 large establishment ; where there are many waiters, the mas- 
 ter is generally the longest waiter. A Grand Prior of France, 
 once abusing Palapret for beating his lackey, he replied in a 
 rage, " Zooks, sir, he deserves it ; I have but this one, and 
 yet I am every bit as badly served as you who have twenty." 
 
 SET-DOWN — That species of rebuke familiarly termed a 
 set-down, when it has been merited by the offending party, 
 and is inflicted without an undue severity, is generally very 
 acceptable to every one but its object. An empty coxcomb, 
 after having engrossed the attention of the company for some 
 time with himself and his petty ailments, observed to Dr. 
 Parr, that he could never go out without catching cold in his 
 head. " No wonder," cried ' the doctor, pettishly, " you 
 always go out without any thing in it." Another of the same 
 stamp, who imagined himself to be a poet, once said to Nat. 
 Lee, " Is it not easy to write like a madman, as you do ? " 
 " No ; but it is very easy to write like a fool, as you do." 
 
 SETTLER— Tom Hood, in one of his delightful Comic 
 Annuals, has an engraving of a colonist meeting a settler in 
 the form of an infuriated lion, who with bristling mane seems 
 prepared to give the stranger a passport down his throat. 
 We may encounter a less formidable, but equally conclusive 
 settler, without stirring from our own firesides, and afford a 
 proof at the same time, that a bad thing put into the mouth 
 will sometimes bring a good thing out of it. ' An epicure, 
 while eating oysters, swallowed one that was not fresh. 
 " Zounds, waiter I " he ejaculated, making a wry face, " what 
 sort of an oyster do you call this ? " "A native, sir," replied 
 the wielder of the knife. " A native ! — / call it a settler, so 
 you need not open any more. What's to pay ? !? 
 
 SHOOTING THE LONG-BOW— Stretching a fact till 
 
230 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 you have made it as long as you want it. Lord Herbert of 
 Cherbury's tastes have descended to some of our modern 
 nobility, for he tells us in his Autobiography, " The exercises 
 I chiefly used, and most recommended to my posterity, were, 
 riding the great horse and fencing. I do much approve like- 
 wise of shooting in the long-oowP So does our ingenious con- 
 temporary, Lord G , who never suffers himself to be out- 
 stripped in the marvellous. The Marquis of H — ! — had 
 engaged the attention of a dinner party, l)y stating that he 
 had caught a pike, the day before, which weighed nineteen 
 
 pounds. " Pooh ! " cried Lord G , " that is nothing to the 
 
 salmon I hooked last week, which weighed fifty-six pounds." 
 " Hang it," whispered the Marquis to his neighbor, " I wish 
 I could catch my pike again ; I would add ten pounds to him 
 directly." 
 
 SICKNESS — without reference to the religious impressions 
 it is calculated to awaken, is well worth enduring, now and 
 then, not only for the pleasure of convalescence, but that we 
 may learn a due and grateful sense of the blessing of health. 
 " Every recovery," says Jean Paul Kichter, " is a palingenesia, 
 and bringing back of our youth, making us love the earth, and 
 those that are on it, whin a new love." 
 
 SIDE WIND ATTACK— The not uncommon custom of 
 pelting a friend, after he has left the company, seems to have 
 been derived from the practice of the ancient tribes, who 
 erected a monument to a departed hero, by throwing stones 
 upon him. 
 
 SILENCE — A thing which it is often difficult to keep, in 
 exact proportion as it is dangerous not to keep it. So frail 
 that we cannot even speak of it without breaking it, and yet 
 as easily and as completely to be restored as it was destroyed, 
 few people understand the use, or appreciate the value of this 
 mysterious quality. All men, when they talk, think that they 
 are conferring pleasure upon others, because they feel it them- 
 selves ; but none suspect that the same object may sometimes 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 231 
 
 be more effectually obtained by their silence. A good lis- 
 tener is much more rare than a good talker, because the con- 
 versation of general society seldom fixes the attention, and 
 thus, in the hopelessness of curing the evil, we aggravate it. 
 
 " When I go into company," said L , " I am compelled to 
 
 become as great a chatterbox as the rest, because I had rather 
 hear my own nonsense than that of other people. "After 
 all," observed his niece one day, when he was twitting her 
 with her loquacity, " I know many men who talk more than 
 women." — " Ay," was the reply, " more to the point." 
 
 ' L was once overturned in a carriage with his niece, 
 
 who finding, after all her screams, that she had received no 
 hurt, asked her uncle how, in such an imminent danger, he 
 could have preserved so perfect a silence. " Because I was 
 tolerably sure that death would not be frightened away by 
 my making a noise." 
 
 Socrates, when a chatterbox applied to him to be taught 
 rhetoric, said that he must pay double the usual price, because 
 it would first be necessary to teach him to hold his tongue. 
 We may be sometimes gainers by practising this difficult art, 
 even at a festive meeting. " Silence," exclaimed an epicure to 
 some noisy guests, " you make so much noise that we don't 
 know what we are eating." 
 
 SILK — The refuse of a reptile, employed to give distinc- 
 tion and dignity to the lord of the creation. Compare the 
 caterpillar in its cocoon with the king's counsel in his silk 
 gown, and in adjusting the claims of the rival worms, the palm 
 of ingenuity must be conceded to the former, because it spins 
 and fashions its own covering, whereas the latter can only 
 spin out the thread of empty elocution, and weave a web of 
 sophistry. The Abbe Raynal calls silk, " V outrage de ce ver 
 rampant, qui Tiabille Vhomme defeuilles d^arbres elaoorees dans 
 son sein." Hear how the pompous Gibbon, gives the same 
 information. " I need not explain that silk is originally spun 
 from the bowels of a caterpillar, and that it composes the 
 golden tomb, whence a worm emerges in the form of a but- 
 terflyx" There is an Arabian proverb which conveys the 
 
232 the tin' trumpet. 
 
 same fact in a much more moral and poetical form. " With 
 patience and perseverance the leaf of the mulberry tree 
 becomes satin." 
 
 SLANDERER — A person of whom the Greeks showed a 
 due appreciation, when they made the word synonymous with 
 devil. Slanderers are at all events economical, for they make 
 a little scandal go a great way, and rarely open their mouths, 
 except at the expense of other people. "We must allow that 
 they have good excuse for being defamatory, if it be their 
 object to bring down others to their own level. It may be 
 further urged in their extenuation, that they are driven to 
 their trade by necessity ; they filch the fair character of others, 
 because they have none of their own ; and with this advan- 
 tage, that the stolen property can never be found upon them. 
 There is a defence also for their covert and cowardly mode of 
 attacking you, for how can you expect that backbiters should 
 meet you face to face ? Nay, they have even a valid plea for 
 being so foul-mouthed, considering how often they have been 
 compelled to eat their own words. Hang them ! let us do the 
 fellows justice 1 
 
 SLOTH — The sloth, in its wild state, spends its life in 
 trees, and never leaves them but from force or accident. The 
 eagle to the sky, the mole to the ground, the sloth to the 
 tree ; but what is most extraordinary, h*e lives not upon the 
 branches, but under them. He moves suspended, rests sus- 
 pended, sleeps suspended, and passes his life in suspense — like 
 a young clergyman distantly related to a bishop. 
 
 SMITH — Alexander — A noted manufacturer of and whole- 
 sale dealer in Images. The subjoined Sonnet to the Sun is 
 evidently by a cook who has thoroughly imbibed the spirit of 
 his great master, the Image-monger : — 
 
 " Day is done brown, and set away to cool ; 
 And Evening, like a salad fresh and moist, 
 And pepper 1 d with her muster'd stars, comes on ; — 
 The moon, like a large cheese, cut just in half, 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 233 
 
 Hangs o'er the landscape most invitingly ; — 
 
 The milky -way reveals her silver stream 
 
 'Mid the blanc-mange-like clouds that fleck the sky; — 
 
 The cattle dun, sleeping in pastures brown, 
 
 Show like huge dough-nuts 'mid the deep'ning gloom. 
 
 How like a silver salver shines the lake ! 
 
 "While mimic clouds upon its surface move, 
 
 Like floating islands in a crystal bowl. 
 
 The dews come down to wash the flower-cups clean, 
 
 And night-winds follow them to wipe them dry. 
 
 " On such an eve as this 'tis sweet to sit 
 And thus commune with Nature, as she brings 
 Familiar symbols to the thoughtful breast, 
 And spreads her feast of meditative cheer. 
 Day with its broils and fiery feuds is o'er, 
 Its jars discordant and its seething strifes, 
 And all its boiling passions hush'd to peace. 
 Old Earth, hung on her spit before the sun, 
 Turns her huge sides alternate to his rays, 
 Basted by rains and dews, and cooks away, 
 And so will cook, till she is done,— and burnt. 
 
 SNUFF — Dirt thrust up the nostrils with a pig-like snort, 
 as a sternutatory, which is not to be sneezed at. The moment 
 he has thus defeated his own. object, the snuffling snuff-taker 
 becomes the slave of a habit, which literally brings his nose to 
 the grindstone ; his Ormskirk has seized him as St. Dunstan 
 did the devil, and if the red-hot pincers could occasionally 
 start up from the midst of the rappee, few persons would 
 regret their embracing the proboscis of the offender. Lord 
 Stanhope has very exactly calculated that in forty years, two 
 entire years of the snuff-taker's life will be devoted to tickling 
 his nose, and two more to the agreeable processes of blowing 
 and wiping it, with other incidental circumstances. Well 
 would it be if we bestowed half the time in making ourselves 
 agreeable, that we waste in rendering ourselves offensive to 
 our friends. Society takes its revenge by deciding, that no 
 man would thrust dirt into his head, if he had got any thing 
 else in it. 
 
 SOCIETY — If persons would never meet except when they 
 have something to say, and if they would always separate 
 
234 THE TIN TEUMPET. 
 
 when they have exhausted their pleasant or profitable topics, 
 how delightful, but alas ! how evanescent would be our social 
 assemblages. 
 
 SOLDIER — A man machine, so thoroughly deprived of its 
 human portion, that at the breath of another man machine, it 
 will blindly inflict or suffer destruction. Divested of his tinsel 
 trappings, his gold lace, feathers, music, and the glitter of the 
 false glory with which it has been attempted to dazzle the 
 world as to his real state, it is difficult to imagine any thing 
 more humiliating than the condition of a soldier. 
 
 Nothing so much shows the triumph of opinion and usage 
 over fact, of the conventional over the abstract, as that a pro- 
 fession, apparently so much at variance with all their feelings, 
 should be chosen by gentlemen of independence, humanity, 
 and reflection. Nothing is more redeeming to our common 
 nature, than that such men, placed in a sphere so expressly 
 calculated to make them both slavish and tyrannical, should 
 generally preserve their good qualities from contamination. 
 Why they ever entered it, we presume not to inquire, but we 
 are bound to believe that the motive was not less rational and 
 amiable than that of the affectionate Irishman, who enlisted 
 in the seventy-fifth regiment, in order to be near his brother, 
 who was a corporal in the seventy-sixth. — (Vide Josephus 
 Molitor.) 
 
 SPECULATION' — A word that sometimes begins with its 
 second letter. 
 
 SPELLING — Bad — is sometimes the best, as in the case 
 of the Beer vendor, who wrote over his shop-door, " Bear sold 
 here," manifestly implying, as was observed by my friend T. 
 
 II , that it was his own Bruin. Not less ingenious was 
 
 the device of the quack doctor, who announced in his printed 
 handbills, that he could instantly cure, " the most obstinate 
 agueics" thus satisfactorily proving that he was no conjuror, 
 and did not attempt to cure them by a spell. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 235 
 
 SPINSTER — An unprotected female, and of course a fine 
 subject for exercising the courage of cowards, and the wit of 
 the witless. 
 
 STEAM — Strange that there should slumber in yonder tran- 
 quil pond a power so tremendous, that, could we condense 
 and direct its energies, it might cleave the solid earth in 
 twain, and yet so gentle that it may be governed, and applied, 
 and set to perform its stupendous miracles by a child ! The 
 discovery that water would resist being boiled above 212 de- 
 grees, has conferred upon England its manufacturing suprem- 
 acy, and will eventually produce changes, both moral and 
 physical, of which it is difficult to limit the extent. One 
 bushel of coals, properly consumed, will raise seventy millions 
 of pounds weight a foot high. The Menai Bridge, weighing 
 four millions of pounds, suspended at a medium height of 120 
 feet, might have been raised where it is by seven bushels of 
 coals. M. Dupin estimated in 1820 the steam engines of Eng- 
 land to possess a moving power equivalent to that of 6,400,000 
 men at the windlass. And this stupendous agent is at present 
 only in its infancy ! 
 
 STOMACH — The epicure's deity. Buffon gave it as his 
 deliberate conviction, that this portion of our economy was 
 the seat of thought, an opinion which he seems to have adopted 
 from Persius, who dubs it a master of arts, and the dispenser 
 of genius. So satisfied are we of its reflecting disposition, that 
 we call a cow, or other beast with two stomachs, a ruminating 
 animal par excellence. To judge by the quantity they eat, we 
 might infer some of our own species to have two stomachs ; 
 but when we listen to their discourse we find it difficult to 
 include them in the class of ruminating animals. 
 
 STONE— The Philosophers— The folly of those who have 
 inherited Midas's ears without his touch. A will-o'-the-wisp, 
 however, does not always lead us into quagmires ; in running 
 after shadows we sometimes catch substances, and in following 
 illusions overtake the most valuable realities. The pursuit of 
 
236 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 the philosopher's stone has by no means been a vain one. 
 Alchemy has given us chemistry, and we are indebted to the 
 astrologers for the elucidation of the most difficult problems in 
 astronomy. The clown who, in running to catch a fallen star, 
 stumbled, and kicked up a hidden treasure, has found many 
 an unintentional imitator among scientific visionaries and star- 
 gazers. Perhaps more has been gained by long and vainly 
 seeking the quadrature of the circle, the longitude, and per- 
 petual motion, than would have arisen from immediate success. 
 Morals, too, have their philosopher's stone, in other shapes 
 than those of Plato's Atlantis, or More's Utopia; and it is 
 healthy to chase such chimeras, if it were only for the sake of 
 air and exercise, in an atmosphere of purity. Many real vir- 
 tues may be acquired by straining after an imaginary and 
 unattainable perfection. Crede quod habes, et habes, "When a 
 thing is once believed possible, it is half realized. 
 
 STONE — to pelt with. Dr. Magee affirms that the Roman 
 Catholics have a Church without a religion — the Dissenters, 
 a religion without a Church — the Establishment, both a 
 Church and a religion. " This is false," observes Eobert Hall 
 of Leicester ; " but it is an excellent stone for a clergyman to 
 pelt with." 
 
 STUPIDITY — is often more apparent than real ; it may be 
 indisposition rather than incapacity. The human mind is not 
 like logic — the major does not always contain the minor ; and 
 men who feel themselves fit for great things, cannot always 
 accomplish little ones. Claude Lorraine was dismissed by the- 
 pastry-cook to whom he had been apprenticed, for sheer stu- 
 pidity. The difficulty did not consist in bringing his mind up, 
 but in bringing it down to the manufacture of bunns and 
 tartlets. 
 
 STYLE — To have a good style in writing you should have 
 none ; as perfect beauty of face consists in the absence of any 
 predominant feature. Mannerism, whether in writing or 
 painting, can never be a merit. Swift is right when he de- 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 237 
 
 cides, that "Proper words in proper places make the true 
 definition of a good style." 
 
 " He who would write well," says Eoger Ascham, " must 
 follow the advice of Aristotle, — to speak as the common people 
 speak, and to think as the wise think." Style, however, is 
 but the coloring of the picture, which should always be held 
 subordinate to the design. " We may well forgive Tertullian 
 his iron style," says Balzac, " when we recollect what excel- 
 lent weapons he has forged out of this iron, for the defence of 
 Christianity and the defeat of the Marcionites and Valen- 
 tinians." 
 
 SUBSCRIPTIONS— Peivate— Paying your creditors by 
 taxing your friends ; an approved method for getting rid of 
 both. Many years ago, a worthy and well-known baronet, 
 having become embarrassed in his circumstances, a subscrip- 
 tion was set on foot by his friends, and a letter, soliciting con- 
 tributions, was addressed to the late Lord Erskine, who 
 immediately despatched the following answer : — 
 
 " My dear Sir John, 
 I am in general an enemy to subscriptions of this nature ; 
 first, because my own finances are by no means in a flourish- 
 ing plight ; and secondly, because pecuniary assistance, thus 
 conferred, must be equally painful to the donor and the re- 
 ceiver. As I feel, however, the sincerest gratitude for your 
 public services, and regard for your private worth, I have 
 great pleasure in subscribing — (Here the worthy Baronet, big 
 with expectation, turned over the leaf, and finished the perusal 
 of the note, which terminated as follows:) — in subscribing 
 myself, 
 
 " My dear Sir John, 
 
 " Yours very faithfully, 
 
 " Eeskine." 
 
 SUGGESTION"— A friendly one. A man who had had his 
 ears cuffed in a squabble, without resenting the affront, being 
 shortly afterwards in a party, and in want of a pinch of snuff, 
 exclaimed, " I cannot think what I have done with my box ; 
 
238 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 it is not in either of my pockets." — " Try your ears," said a 
 bystander. 
 
 SUPPER — A receipt for indigestion, and a sleepless night. 
 A Spanish proverb says — A little in the morning is enough ; 
 enough at dinner is but little ; a little at night is too much. 
 This agrees pretty nearly with the Latin dictum — 
 
 "Pone guise metas, ut sit tibi longior setas, 
 Esse cupis sanus ? — Sit tibi parca manus." 
 
 SYMPATHY — A sensibility, of which its objects are some- 
 times insensible. It may be perilous to discourage a feeling, 
 whereof there is no great superabundance in this selfish and 
 hard-hearted world ; but even of the little that exists, a por- 
 tion is frequently thrown away. Such is the power of adapta- 
 tion in the human mind, that those who seem to be in the 
 most pitiable plight have often the least occasion for our pity. 
 A city damsel, whose ideas had been Arcadianized by the 
 perusal of pastorals, having once made an excursion to a dis- 
 tance of twenty miles from London, wandered into the fields 
 in the hope of. discovering a lona fide live shepherd. To her 
 infinite delight, she at length encountered one, under a haw- 
 thorn hedge in full blossom, with his dog by his side, his crook 
 in his hand, and his sheep round about him, just as if he were 
 sitting to be modelled in china for a chimney ornament. To 
 be sure, he did not exhibit the azure jacket, jessamine vest, 
 pink tiffany inexpressibles, peach-colored stockings, and golden 
 buckles of those faithful portraitures. This was mortifying ; 
 still more so, that he was neither particularly young nor 
 cleanly ; but, most of all, that he wanted the indispensable 
 accompaniment of a pastoral reed, in order that he might be- 
 guile his solitude with the charms of music. Touched with 
 pity at this privation, and lapsing, unconsciously, into poetical 
 language, the civic damsel exclaimed — " Ah ! gentle shepherd, 
 tell me where's your pipe ? " — " I left it at home, Miss," replied 
 the clown, scratching his head, " 'cause I ha'nt got no baccy." 
 
 A benevolent committee-man of the Society for superseding 
 the necessity of climbing boys, seeing a sooty urchin weeping 
 
THE TIN TEUMPET. . 289 
 
 bitterly, at the corner of a street, asked hiin the cause of his 
 distress. "Master has been using me shamefully," sobbed 
 the sable sufferer ; "he has been letting Jem Hudson go up 
 the chiinney at No. 9, when it was my turn ! He said it was 
 too high, and too dangerous for me, but I'll go up a chimney 
 with Jem Hudson any day in the year ; that's what I will ! " 
 
 There is a local sympathy, however, in which we cannot 
 well be mistaken, and which it is lamentable not to possess ; 
 for that man — to use the words of Dr. Johnson — "is little 
 to be envied, whose patriotism would not g^ain force upon the 
 plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer 
 among the ruins of Iona." 
 
 Even the most obdurate and perverse natures cannot al- 
 ways resist the power of sympathy. Indecorous as it is, we 
 must quote Lord Peterborough's observation on the celebrated 
 Fenelon ; — " He is a delicious creature ; I was forced to get 
 away from him as fast as I possibly could, else he would have 
 made me pious." As a profane man may be pleased with 
 piety, so may a wise one be occasionally pleased with folly, 
 through sympathy with the pleasures of others. 
 
 Most misplaced and mischievous of all, is that spurious 
 sympathy, by which some of our journalists and novel writers 
 seek to enlist our feelings in the cause of the basest malefac- 
 tors. " To make criminals the object of a sentimental admira- 
 tion, and of a sort of familiar attachment ; to hold up as a hero 
 the treacherous murderer, whose life has been passed in reck- 
 less profligacy, merely because, at his death, he displays a 
 firmness which scarcely ever deserts the vilest, is a task as 
 unworthy of literary talents as it is unfit for cultivated and 
 liberal minds." 
 
 TACT — Talent is something, but tact is every thing. Tal- 
 ent is serious, sober, grave, and respectable ; tact is all that, 
 and more too. It is not a seventh sense, but is the life of all 
 the five. It is the open eye, the quick ear, the judging taste, 
 the keen smell, and the lively touch : it is the interpreter of 
 all riddles — the surmounter of all difficulties — the remover of 
 all obstacles. It is useful in all places, and at all times : it is 
 
240 THE TIN TKTJMPET. 
 
 useful in solitude, for it shows a man his way into the world ; 
 it is useful in society, for it shows him his way through the 
 world. Talent is power — tact is skill : talent is weight — tact 
 is momentum : talent knows what to do — tact knows how 
 to do it : talent makes a man respectable — tact will make 
 him respected : talent is wealth — tact is ready money. For 
 all the practical purposes of life tact carries it against talent — 
 ten to one. Take them to the theatre, 'and pit them against 
 each other on the stage, and talent shall produce you a tragedy 
 that will scarcely live long enough to be damned, while tact 
 keeps the house in a roar, night after night, with its successful 
 farces. There is no want of dramatic talent, there is no want 
 of dramatic tact, but they are seldom together ; so we have 
 successful pieces which are not respectable, and respectable 
 pieces which are not successful. Take them to the bar, and 
 let them shake their learned curls at each other in legal rivalry : 
 talent sees its way clearly, but tact is first at its journey's end. 
 Talent has many a compliment from the bench, but tact 
 touches fees from attorneys and clients. Talent speaks learn- 
 edly and logically — tact triumphantly. Talent makes the 
 world wonder that it gets on no faster, tact excites astonish- 
 ment that it gets on so fast ; and the secret is, that it has no 
 weight to carry : it makes no false steps — it hits the right nail 
 on the head — it loses no time — it takes all hints — and by keep- 
 ing its eye on the weathercock, is ready to take advantage of 
 every wind that blows. Take them into the church. Talent 
 has always something worth hearing ; tact is sure of abundance 
 of hearers. Talent may obtain a living, tact will make one. 
 Talent gets a good name, tact a great one. Talent convinces, 
 tact converts. Talent is an honor to the profession, tact gains 
 honor from the profession. Take them to court. Talent feels 
 its weight, tact finds its way. Talent commands, tact is obey- 
 ed. Talent is honored with approbation, and tact is blessed 
 by preferment. Place them in the Senate. Talent has the ear 
 of the House, but tact wins its heart and has its votes. Talent 
 is fit for employment, but tact is fitted for it. It has a knack 
 of slipping into place with a sweet silence and glibness of 
 movement, as a billiard-ball insinuates itself into the pocket. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 241 
 
 It seems to know every thing without learning any thing. It 
 has served an invisible and extemporary apprenticeship. It 
 wants no drilling. It never ranks in the awkward squad. 
 It has no left hand, no deaf ear, no blind side. It puts on no 
 looks of wondrous wisdom, it has no air of profundity ; but 
 plays with the details of place as dexterously as a well-taught 
 hand flourishes over the keys of the piano-forte. It has all the 
 air of common-place, and all the force and power of genius. 
 It can change sides with a Jiey-presto movement, and be at all 
 points of the compass, while talent is ponderously and learn- 
 edly shifting a single point. Talent calculates clearly, reasons 
 logically, makes out a case as clear as daylight, and utters its 
 oracles with all the weight of justice and reason. Tact refutes 
 without contradicting, puzzles the profound with profundity, 
 and without wit outwits the wise. Set them together on a 
 race for popularity, pen in hand, and tact will distance talent 
 by half the course. Talent brings to market that which is 
 wanted; tact produces that which is wished for. Talent 
 instructs ; tact enlightens. Talent leads where no one fol- 
 lows ; tact follows where the humor leads. Talent is pleased 
 that it 'ought to have succeeded ; tact is delighted that it has 
 succeeded. Talent toils for a posterity which will never repay 
 it ; tact throws away no pains, but catches the passion of the 
 passing hour. Talent builds for eternity ; tact on a short 
 lease, and gets good interest. Talent is certainly a very fine 
 thing to talk about, a very good thing to be proud of, a very 
 glorious eminence to look down from ; but tact is useful, port- 
 able, applicable, always alive, always alert, always market- 
 able ; it is the talent of talents, the availableness of resources, 
 the applicability of power, the eye of discrimination, the right 
 hand of intellect. 
 
 TALENT — Such are the changes and chances of the world, 
 and so difficult is it to ascertain our own understandings, or 
 those of others, that most things are done by persons who 
 could have done something else better. If you choose to rep- 
 resent the various parts in life by holes upon a table, of differ- 
 ent shapes,— some circular, some triangular, some square, some 
 11 
 
242 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 oblong, — and the persons acting these parts by bits of wood of 
 similar shapes, we shall generally find that the triangular per- 
 son has got into the square hole, the oblong into the trian- 
 gular, and a square person has squeezed himself into the round 
 hole. The officer and the office, the doer and the thing done, 
 seldom fit so exactly that we can say they were almost made 
 for each other. 
 
 TALENT — Acquired — What we want in natural abilities 
 may generally and easily be made up in industry ; as a dwarf 
 may keep pace with a giant, if he will but move his legs a lit- 
 tle faster. " Mother ! " said the Spartan boy, going to battle, 
 " my sword is too short." " Add a step to it," was the reply. 
 
 TALKEES — Great — not only do the least, but generally 
 say the least, if their words be weighed, instead of reckoned. 
 He who labors under an incontinence of speech, seldom gets 
 the better of his complaint ; for he must prescribe for himself, 
 and is sure of having a fool for his physician. How many a 
 chatterbox might pass for a wiseacre, if he could keep his own 
 secret, and put a drag chain, now and then, upon his tongue. 
 The largest minds have the smallest opinion of themselves ; 
 for their knowledge impresses them with humility, by show- 
 ing the extent of their ignorance, and this discovery makes 
 them taciturn. Deep waters are still ; wise men generally 
 talk little, because they think much: feeling the annoyance 
 of idle loquacity in others, they are cautious of falling into the 
 same error, and keep their mouths shut, when they cannot 
 open them to the purpose. 
 
 Small wits, on the contrary, are usually great talkers. 
 Uttering whatever comes uppermost, and every thing being 
 superficial, their shallowness makes them noisy, and their con- 
 fidence offensive. If we might perpetrate, at the same time, a 
 pun and paradox, we should affirm, that the smaller the calibre 
 of the mind, the greater the bore of a perpetually open mouth. 
 Human heads are like hogsheads — the emptier they are, the 
 louder report they give of themselves. The chatterbox, ac- 
 cording to the Italians, "parla prima e pensa poi" (speak 
 
THE TIN TKUMPET. 243 
 
 first, and think after ;) but we have specimens in this country, 
 who never think either before or after. The clock of their 
 word-mill is heard, even when there is no wind to set it going, 
 and no grist to come from it. 
 
 M. de Bautre, being in the antechamber of Cardinal Rich- 
 elieu, at the time that a great talker was loudly and inces- 
 santly babbling, begged him to be silent, lest he should annoy 
 the Cardinal. " Why do you wish me not to speak ? " asked 
 the chatterbox; "I talk a good deal, but I talk well." 
 " Half of that is true," said M. de Bautre. 
 
 TASTE — A quick and just perception of beauty and de- 
 formity in works of art. This is one definition. In general 
 taste is a metaphorical expression ; and it is a mere word of 
 classification, including several distinct feelings of the mind, 
 exactly as the primary taste includes several distinct feelings 
 of the body. It includes the feeling of beauty in all its very 
 numerous meanings, the feeling of novelty, the feeling of gran- 
 deur, the feeling of sublimity, the feeling of propriety, and 
 perhaps many others. 
 
 Precisely in the same manner, the natural taste includes the 
 taste of sweet, sour, hot, cold, moist, savory, and many others, 
 which are so pleasantly exemplified every day in this great 
 town ; so that, when we use the word taste, we must recollect 
 that there is no single feeling of the mind which has obtained 
 that name, but that it is a classifying, comprehensive word, 
 embracing a great number of distinct feelings. 
 
 As for the uses of the word ; in the lighter parts of morals 
 it may perhaps be brought in, but in the greater virtues and 
 vices, certainly not. If a man were to kill the minister and 
 church- war dens of his parish, nobody would accuse him of 
 want of taste. The Scythians always ate their grandfathers ; 
 they behaved very respectfully to them for a long time, but as 
 soon as their grandfathers became old and troublesome, and 
 began to tell long stories, they immediately eat them : nothing 
 could be more improper, and even disrespectful, than dining 
 off such near and venerable relations ; yet we could not with 
 any propriety accuse them of bad taste in morals. Neither is 
 
244 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 the word taste used in subjects of pure reasoning. We could 
 not say, that he who discovered an error in a mathematical 
 problem had a good taste for reasoning ; that he who made 
 the error had a bad taste ; — to find that 12 times 12 is 144, is 
 not a business of taste. Neither can we use the word taste 
 with respect to very useful inventions. We could not say that 
 Bolton and Watt exhibited a great deal of taste in the im- 
 provements they made upon the steam-engine ; nor could we 
 say that Archimedes exhibited a fine taste in the machines he 
 invented for dashing to pieces the Koman galleys, and knock- 
 ing out the brains of the Roman soldiers. Some of these 
 things appear too important for the application of that word ; 
 others, too certain. It seems to have been intended that the 
 metaphor should apply to feelings connected with pleasure 
 and pain, not with duties and crimes ; with the superfluous, 
 the lighter, and more luxurious sensations of the mind, not 
 with those which become the subjects of approbation and 
 disapprobation. 
 
 TASTE — Natural — The subject of taste has given rise to 
 a very curious controversy ; — whether every feeling of taste 
 depends upon accidental association, or whether, by the origi- 
 nal constitution of nature, it is connected with any particular 
 object of sense, it is admitted on all hands that the feeling of 
 beauty and sublimity very frequently, and even in a great 
 majority of instances, depends upon mere association. For one 
 instance : — in the estimation of Europeans, part of the beauty 
 of a face is the color of the cheek ; not that there is some- 
 thing in that particular position of red color, which, I believe, 
 is of itself beautiful, — but habit has connected it also with the 
 idea of health. An Indian requires that his wife's face should 
 be of the color of good marketable sea-coal ; another tribe is 
 enamored of deep orange ; and a cheek of copper is irresistible 
 to a fourth. Every color is agreeable, in each of these in- 
 stances, which is connected with the idea of youth and beauty ; 
 the beauty is not in the color itself, but in the notions which 
 the color summons up. 
 
 To prove, however, that there exists, in the human heart, 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 245 
 
 a natural and innate feeling which may be called taste, it is 
 only necessary to cast one's eyes down the table at a public 
 dinner or an aldermanic banquet ; to look at men when (as 
 Bishop Taylor says) they are " gathered round the eels of 
 Syene, and the oysters of Lucrinus, and when the Lesbian 
 and Chian wines descend through the limbec of the tongue and 
 larynx ; when they receive the juice of fishes, and the marrow 
 of the laborious ox, and the tender lard of Apulian swine, and 
 the condited stomach of the scarus." 
 
 TAVEBN — A house kept for those who are not house- 
 keepers. 
 
 TAXES — "What a nation pays for glory; national glory 
 being obtained in general under the Manifest-Destiny Dispen- 
 sation. Sydney Smith has well enumerated the fruits of an in- 
 sane desire for national aggrandizement, as including: "Taxes 
 upon every article which enters into the mouth, or covers the 
 back, or is placed under the foot — taxes upon every thing which 
 it is pleasant to see, hear, feel, smell, or taste — taxes upon 
 warmth, light, and locomotion — taxes on every thing on earth, 
 and the waters under the earth — on every thing that comes 
 from abroad, or is grown at home — taxes on the raw material 
 — taxes on every fresh value that is added to it by the indus- 
 try of man — taxes on the sauce which pampers man's appetite, 
 and the drug that restores him to health — on the ermine which 
 decorates the judge, and the rope which hangs the criminal — 
 on the poor man's salt, and the rich man's spice — on the brass 
 nails of the coffin, and the ribbons of the bride — at bed or board, 
 couchant or levant, we must pay. The schoolboy whips his 
 taxed top — the beardless youth manages his taxed horse, with 
 a taxed bridle, on a taxed road ; and the dying Englishman, 
 pouring his medicine, which has paid 7 per cent., into a spoon 
 that has paid 15 per cent., flings himself back upon his chintz 
 bed, which has paid 22 per cent., — and expires in the arms of 
 an apothecary who has paid a license of a hundred pounds for 
 the privilege of putting him to death. His whole property is 
 then immediately taxed from 2 to 10 per cent. Besides the 
 
246 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 probate, large fees are demanded for burying him in the chan- 
 cel ; his virtues are handed down to posterity on taxed marble ; 
 and he is then gathered to his fathers — to be taxed no more." 
 
 TEXT — Scriptural — A fertile source of delusion and 
 bigotry to those particularly clear-sighted people, who prefer 
 the letter which killeth, to the spirit which giveth life. 
 
 "From drugs intended to impart 
 
 Belief to sickness, care, and pain, 
 The chemist, with transmutive art, 
 
 Extracts a poison and a bane. 
 So does the bigot's art abuse 
 
 The sacred page of love and life ; 
 And turn its sweet and hallowed use 
 
 To deadly bitterness and strife. 
 
 " As purblind or short-sighted elves 
 Measure their glasses by themselves, 
 And deem those spectacles most true 
 Which suit their own distorted view, 
 So every weak, fanatic creature, 
 Makes of himself a Bible-meter ; 
 Chooses those portions of the word 
 Which with Lis blindness best accord, 
 And closes up his darken'd soul 
 Against the spirit of the whole. 
 
 "Learn this, ye flbunderers in the traps 
 Of insulated lines and scraps, — 
 Though all the texts of Scripture shoot, 
 
 Like hairs within a horsed tail, 
 From one consolidated root, 
 
 Where beauty, strength, and use prevail, 
 Singly, they're fit, like single hairs, 
 Only for springes, nets, and snares." 
 
 Tertullian gives the best advice upon this subject when he 
 says — " We ought to interpret Scripture, not by the sound of 
 words, but by the nature of things." — Malo te ad sensum rei, 
 quam ad sonum vocahuli exerceas. 
 
 THOUGHT — is the spirit of which words are the embodi- 
 ment. How a fine idea frets till it finds its own true word- 
 
THE TIN TEUMPET. 247 
 
 bride! In the union of noble thoughts and fair phrases the 
 sons of God still marry the daughters of men. 
 
 TIME — The vehicle that carries every thing into nothing. 
 "We talk of spending our time, as if it were so much interest of 
 a perpetual annuity ; whereas we are all living upon our cap- 
 ital, and he who wastes a single day, throws away that which 
 can never be recalled or recovered.* 
 
 TINDER — A thin rag — such for instance as the dresses of 
 modern females, intended to catch the sparks, raise a flame, 
 and light up a match. 
 
 TITHES — It is maintained by some, that in England the 
 tithes are no hardship, or that they solely affect the landlord : 
 nay, it is affirmed by one writer, that the agricultural interest 
 in general desire their conservation. My friend T. H. — who 
 will have his joke, however serious may be the subject, or 
 pitiful the pun it elicits — asserts, that the burden of this im- 
 post falls upon the farmer, and that if he be really in favor 
 of the tithe, it must be for the same reason that the Mahom- 
 etan respects Mecca — because it is the burial-place of his 
 prophet. 
 
 TITLES of BOOKS— Decoys to catch purchasers. There 
 can be no doubt that a happy name to a book is like an agree- 
 able appearance to a man ; but if in either case the final do not 
 answer to the first impression, will not our disappointment add 
 to the severity of our judgment ? " Let me succeed with my 
 first impression," the bibliopolist will cry, " and I ask no more. 
 The public are welcome to end with condemning, if they will 
 only begin with buying. Most readers, like the Tuft-hunters 
 at college, are caught by titles." How inconsistent are our 
 notions of morality ! No man of honor would open a letter 
 that was not addressed to him, though he will not scruple to 
 open a book under the same circumstances. Oolton's " Lacon" 
 has gone through thirteen editions, and yet it is addressed " to 
 those who think." Had the author substituted for these 
 
248 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 words " those who think they are thinking," it might not have- 
 had so extensive a sale, although it would have been directed 
 to a much larger class. He has shown address in his address. 
 
 TOLERATION" — Being wise enough to have no difference 
 with those who differ from us. The mutual rancor of con- 
 flicting sects is inversely as their distance from each other ; no 
 one hating a Jew or a Pagan half so much as a fellow-Chris- 
 tian, who agrees with him in all but one unimportant point. 
 
 If a Hindoo or Mahometan philosopher were to contemplate 
 five hundred different sects of Christians, spitting fire and eter- 
 nal perdition at each other, in flagrant defiance of the very 
 Scriptures which they profess to teach and obey, would he not 
 be tempted to exclaim — "Unhappy men! ye are all likely to 
 be equally right in your denunciations, for when ye condemn 
 each other, ye condemn yourselves ! " 
 
 " Fain would the bard on all impress 
 
 The hatred of intolerance, 
 Teach them their fellow-men to bless, 
 
 Whatever doctrines they advance, 
 Bid every fierce, contending sect 
 Humble its passions, and reflect, 
 That real Christians love the souls 
 
 Of those by whom their own are doom'd, 
 As frankincense perfumes the coals 
 
 By which it is itself consumed." 
 
 TOMB — A house built for a skeleton : a dwelling of sculp- 
 tured marble, provided for dust and corruption : a monument 
 set up to perpetuate the memory of — the forgotten. 
 
 TONGUE — The mysterious membrane that turns thought 
 into sound. Drink is its oil — eating its drag chain. 
 
 TRAVELLERS— The mass of travellers are asses. A little 
 knowledge is a dangerous thing ; and especially the very little 
 knowledge of a country and people attainable by a few months' 
 residence. Dickens spent two months in a journey through 
 sixteen of the United States, and left our shores with the im- 
 pression that all American men chew tobacco and talk through 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 249 
 
 the nose, and all American women are ignorant. A more lu- 
 dicrous instance still is that of a M. Fievee, a Frenchman, who 
 in the beginning of this century spent some weeks in England, 
 and collected during that time sufficient material for a book, 
 wherein he makes the following charges against the English : 
 That they do not understand fireworks as well as the French ; 
 that they charge a shilling for admission to the exhibition ; 
 that they have the misfortune of being incommoded by a cer- 
 tain disgraceful privilege, called the liberty of the press ; that 
 the opera band plays out of tune ; that the English are so fond 
 of drinking, that they get drunk with a certain air called the 
 gas of Paradise ; that the privilege of electing members of 
 parliament is so burdensome, that cities sometimes petition to 
 be exempted from it ; that the great obstacle to a parliament- 
 ary reform is the mob ; that women sometimes have titles dis- 
 tinct from those of their husbands — although, in England, any- 
 body can sell his wife at market with a rope about her neck. 
 To these complaints he adds — that the English are so far from 
 enjoying that equality of which their partisans boast, that 
 none but the servants of the higher nobility can carry canes 
 behind a carriage ; that the English have no family affections, 
 and love money so much, that their first question, in an inquiry 
 concerning the character of any man, is, as to his degree of 
 fortune. Lastly, M. Fievee alleges against the English, that 
 they have great pleasure in contemplating the spectacle of 
 men deprived of their reason. And indeed we must have the 
 candor to allow that the hospitality which M. Fievee experi- 
 enced, seems to afford some pretext for this assertion. 
 
 TEIALS — Moral ballast, that often prevents our capsizing. 
 Where we have much to carry, God rarely fails to fit the back 
 to the burden ; where we have nothing to bear, we can seldom 
 bear ourselves. The burdened vessel may be slow in reaching 
 the destined port ; but the vessel without ballast becomes so 
 completely the sport of the winds and waves, that there is 
 danger of her not reaching it at all. 
 
 Danjeau, the French grammarian, when told that a revolu- 
 tion was approaching, exclaimed, rubbing his hands : " Well, 
 11* 
 
250 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 come what may, I have two hundred verbs well conjugated 
 in my desk." 
 
 TRIFLES — may be not tmly tolerated but admired, when 
 we respect the trifler. Little things, it has been said, are 
 only valued when coming from him who can do great things. 
 It has been affirmed that trifles are often more absorbing than 
 matters of importance ; but this can only be true when said 
 of a trifler — of a mean mind pursuing mean objects. Mirabeau 
 maintains that morality in trifles is always the enemy of mo- 
 rality in things of importance ; a position not less untrue than 
 dangerous ; for it is precisely in trivial affairs that a delicate 
 sense of honor and rectitude is most certainly exhibited, as we 
 throw up a feather and not a stone to ascertain the direction 
 of the wind. 
 
 TROPICS — Insects are the curse of tropical climates. The 
 bete rouge lays the foundation of a tremendous ulcer. In a 
 moment you are covered with ticks. Chigoes bury themselves 
 in your flesh, and hatch a colony of young chigoes in a few 
 hours. They will not live together, but every chigoe sets up 
 a separate ulcer and has his own private portion of pus. Flies 
 get entry into your mouth, into your eyes, into your nose ; 
 you eat flies, drink flies, and breathe flies. Lizards, cock- 
 roaches, and snakes, get into the bed ; ants eat up the books ; 
 scorpions sting you on the foot. Every thing bites, stings, or 
 bruises ; every second of your existence you are wounded by 
 some piece of animal life that nobody has ever seen before, 
 except Swammerdam and Meriam. An insect with eleven legs 
 is swimming in your teacup, a nondescript with nine wings 
 is struggling in the small beer, or a caterpillar with several 
 dozen eyes in his belly is hastening over the bread and butter ! 
 All nature i3 alive, and seems to be gathering all her entomo- 
 logical hosts to eat you up, as you are standing, out of your 
 coat, waistcoat, and breeches. Such are the tropics. All this 
 reconciles us to our dews, fogs, vapors, and drizzle — to our 
 apothecaries rushing about with gargles and tinctures — to our 
 cold. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 251 
 
 TEUTHS— Many a truth is like a wolf which we hold by 
 the ears — afraid to let it escape, and yet scarcely able to retain 
 it. And why should we let it go, if it be likely to worry or 
 annoy our neighbor. To promulgate truth with a malicious 
 intention, is worse than to infringe it with a benevolent one, 
 inasmuch as a pleasant deception is often better than a painful 
 reality. It was a saying of the selfish Fontenelle, that if he 
 held the most important truth, like a bird in his hand, he 
 would rather crush it than let it go. Lessing, the German, on 
 the contrary, found such a delight in the investigation of truth, 
 that he professed his readiness to make over all claim as its 
 discoverer, provided he might still be allowed to pursue it. 
 Nor can we wonder at his holy ardor, for to follow truth to its 
 source, is to stand at the footstool of God. 
 
 A new truth has to encounter three normal stages of oppo- 
 sition. In the first it is denounced as an imposture ; in the 
 second — when it is beginning to force itself into notice — it is 
 curiously examined and plausibly explained away ; in the 
 third, or cui bono stage, it is decried as useless. And when it 
 is finally admitted, it passes only under a protest that it has 
 been perfectly known for ages — a proceeding intended to make 
 the new truth ashamed of itself, and wish it had never been 
 born. 
 
 When Algernon Sydney was told that he might save his 
 life by telling a falsehood — by denying his handwriting — he 
 said : " When God has brought me into a dilemma in which I 
 must assert a lie or lose my life, He gives me a clear indication 
 of my duty, which is to prefer death to falsehood. 
 
 UGLIKESS — An advantageous stimulus to the mind, that 
 it may make up for the deficiencies of the body. Medusa's 
 head was carried by Minerva ; and it will generally be found, 
 that as beauty remains satisfied with exterior attractions, plain- 
 ness strives to recommend itself by interior beauty. Talent 
 and amiability, which are more lovable than mere loveliness, 
 will always impart a charm to their possessor, as the want of 
 them will render even a Venus unattractive. Countenance or 
 moral beauty, the reflection of the soul, is as superior to super- 
 
252 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 ficial comeliness, as mind is to matter. It is a lialo, which in- 
 dicates the mens divinior, and will win worshippers, however 
 unadorned may be the shrine whence it emanates, for she who 
 looks good cannot fail to be good-looking. 
 
 UMBRELLA — An article which, by the morality of society, 
 you may steal from friend or foe, and which, for the same rea- 
 son, you should not lend to either. 
 
 USURY — Law of — Punishing a man for making as much 
 as he can of his money, although he is freely allowed to make 
 as much money as he can. Usury (ah usu ceris) is rent for 
 money, as rent is usury for land. 
 
 VANITY — like laudanum, and other poisonous medicines, 
 is beneficial in small, though injurious in large quantities. No 
 man, who is not pleased with himelf, even in a personal sense, 
 can please others ; for it is the belief of his own grace that 
 makes him graceful and gracious. If it be a recommendation 
 to dress our minds to the best advantage, and to render our- 
 selves as agreeable as possible, why should it be an objection 
 to bestow the same pains upon personal appearance ? Dress 
 often influences character ; for the man whose well-regulated 
 mind has a due sense of propriety and fitness, will train him- 
 self from the outside inwards, and act up to his externals. Our 
 present uniformity, and plainness of attire, have given a mo- 
 notony to character, and lowered the general standard of man- 
 ners. Who can look on a cloth sleeve and drab trowsers with 
 the elevating feelings inspired by embroidered silk and the 
 dangling sword, which, in determining the rank, conferred, to 
 a certain degree, the sentiments and the demeanor of a gentle- 
 man ? When men, too, wore different dresses according to 
 their age, they naturally adapted their deportment and conver- 
 sation to their attire, which tended still further to produce 
 individual consistency, and general variety. As old and young 
 now wear the same habiliments, there is as little difference in 
 their manners as in their coats ; a sameness which cannot be 
 right in one direction, and may be wrong in both. 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 253 
 
 A fool in a high station is like a man in a balloon*— every- 
 body appears little to him, and he appears little to everybody. 
 
 VERSE — There seems to be no peculiar adaptation of the 
 rhythm or verse to the subject, whether grave or gay, which 
 custom and association may not conquer. The French Alex- 
 andrine, in which Eacine composed his tragedies, and Yoltaire 
 his Henriade, is the burlesque verse of the English. Compare 
 the following, or any other line of the Phedre — 
 
 " D'un mensonge — aussi noir— justement— irrite," 
 
 and its rhythm will be found nearly identical with this, from 
 _ Anstey's Bath Guide — 
 
 " For his wig— had the luck — a cathartic — to meet." 
 
 On the contrary, the French burlesque verse is nearly the same 
 as the heroic ten syllable verse of the English. 
 
 YIOE — Miscalculation ; obliquity of moral vision ; tempo- 
 rary madness. A single vice, thrown aside only because it 
 was worn out, is often considered a valid set-off against all 
 those that we still retain. Heaven, it is said, rejoices over one 
 penitent sinner, more than over ninety and nine that have 
 never erred ; but it is not written that one sin, by which we 
 have been abandoned, is to give us acquittance for the ninety 
 and nine that we continue to practise. And yet there are 
 many who seem to imagine, that squeamishness upon a single 
 point will give them warrant for a want of scruple upon all 
 others. Brissot, to whose writings and conduct the horrid 
 massacres of the Tuileries, on the 10th of August, 1792, have 
 'been principally ascribed, exclaimed, in defending himself to 
 Dumont, — " Look at the extreme simplicity of my dwelling, 
 and see whether you can justly reproach me with dissipation 
 or frivolity. For two years I have not been near a theatre !" 
 the man whose starch morality will not allow him to witness 
 tragedies at a playhouse, may surely be allowed to perpetrate 
 them on the stage of real life ! 
 
254 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 It may be doubted, whether vice be so effectually repress- 
 ed by the fear of future, as of immediate punishment. Jack 
 Ketch exercises a more potent influence than the devil ; for 
 none can doubt the existence of the forme^ while evil men 
 have a strong motive to be sceptical as to the existence and 
 avenging power of the latter. The hope of future reward is 
 the best consolation to the good under affliction ; but the be- 
 lief that virtue and vice are their own reward and punishment, 
 even in this world, will moralize many from a sense of interest, 
 who might not have been so certainly reclaimed by a sense of 
 duty. 
 
 VULGARITY — is not found in uncivilized life, because, 
 in that state, there is little difference of rank, and less of man- 
 ners ; nor is it, in a civilized country, a deficiency of politeness 
 or refinement, as compared with the most polished classes ; or 
 a peasant may be a gentleman, and a peer a vulgarian. 
 
 Vulgarity of manners may coexist with a polished mind, 
 and urbanity with a vulgar one ; the union of both constitutes 
 the gentleman, whatever may be the grade in which it is 
 found. 
 
 "WAGS AKD WITS — Lamps that exhaust themselves in 
 giving light to others. Their gibes, their gambols, their 
 songs, their flashes of merriment, their puns and bon-mots, 
 and bright, and sharp, and pointed sayings, are but as so many 
 swords, which, the oftener they are drawn forth, do but the 
 sooner wear out the scabbard. It is much easier to make 
 others forget time, than to prevail on old Chronos to forget 
 us. The fetes to which a man of wit is invited, only afford an 
 excuse to the fates for shortening his thread. He finds it is 
 no joking ; his stomach and his convivial reputation fail him 
 at once ; his jests die because he cannot digest ; so many 
 good things have gone into his mouth, that none can come out 
 of it ; and the fellow of mark and likelihood, without whom 
 no party was deemed complete, no laughter-loving guests 
 assured of constant coruscations and cachinnations, becomes 
 used up, worn out, stultified, superannuated, and is left to his 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 255 
 
 obscure lodging, to digest, if he can, his own indigestions, to 
 be taken by the hand by no one but the gout, and to try soli- 
 tary conclusions with the grim sergeant — death. An old joke, 
 especially if it be very little of its age, is a bad thing, as the read- 
 ers of this work must often have exclaimed; but an old joker 
 is a sad thing, as many a facetious ancient has found to his cost. 
 
 "WANTS — Suicides and self-destroyers. Man's bodily 
 wants have been the great stimulus to all the arts, sciences, 
 and discoveries, which have elevated him to his present civili- 
 zation. The nakedness, helplessness, and necessities of the 
 "bare forked animal," combined with the amazing powers 
 and lofty aspirations of his reason, have enabled him to be- 
 come the true lord of the creation, to conquer the elements by 
 which he is surrounded, and to make them minister not only 
 to the removal of his minutest wants, but to the supply of his 
 most superfluous luxuries. Had he been born with the fur 
 coat, or the stomach of a bear, he would have remained a 
 brute, or at best a savage. 
 
 WAR — National madness. An irrational act confined to 
 rational beings; the pastime of kings and statesmen, the 
 curse of subjects. Admitting the social instinct of man, Montes- 
 quieu was not afraid to confess, that the state of war begins 
 with that of society ; but this desolating truth, which Hobbes 
 has abused to praise the tranquillity of despotism, and Rous- 
 seau, to celebrate the superior independence of savage life, is 
 with the philosopher the sacred and salutary plea for govern- 
 ment and laws, which are an armistice between states, and a 
 treaty of perpetual peace between citizens. 
 
 WHISKERS— "I cannot imagine," said Alderman H., 
 " why my whiskers should turn gray so much sooner than 
 the hair of my head." " Because you have worked so much 
 more with your jaws than your brains," observed a wag. 
 
 WINDMILLS — Machines which are only kept going by 
 being perpetually puffed, in which respect they bear a pointed 
 
256 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 resemblance to certain authors. The latter raise the wind by 
 increasing their sales, whereas the former diminish their sail 
 as the wind increases. 
 
 WISDOM OF OUR ANCESTORS— The experience of 
 the inexperienced, and the superior knowledge of the igno- 
 rant. Old women in pantaloons, who object to the smallest 
 reform in our antiquated establishments, because they suited 
 our forefathers, recall to memory the debate in the assembly 
 of the Sorbonne upon the propriety of ordering new table- 
 cloths. " What ! " exclaimed a gray-bearded doctor, the con- 
 servative of the college, " are we wiser than our grandfathers ? 
 Are not these the identical cloths of which they so long made 
 use?" "Yes," said another, "and that is the reason why 
 they are completely worn out." 
 
 WIT — consists in discovering likenesses — judgment in 
 detecting differences. Wit is like a ghost, much more often 
 talked of than seen. To be genuine, it should have a basis of 
 truth and applicability, otherwise it degenerates into mere 
 flippancy ; as, for instance, when Swift says, — " A very little 
 wit is valued in a woman, as we are pleased with a few 
 words spoken plain by a parrot ; " or when Voltaire remarks, 
 that " Ideas are like beards ; women and young men have 
 none." This is a random facetiousness, if it deserves that 
 term, which is equally despicable for its falsehood and its 
 facility. 
 
 Where shall we discover that rarer species of wit, which, 
 like the vine, bears the more clusters of sweet grapes the 
 oftener it is pruned ; or, like the seven-mouthed Nile, springs 
 the faster from the head, the more copiously it flows from the 
 mouth ? 
 
 The sensations excited by wit are destroyed, or at least 
 impaired, if it excites the stronger emotions, or even if it be 
 connected with purposes of utility and improvement. We may 
 laugh where it is bitter, as the Sardinians did when they had 
 tasted of their venomous herb ; but this is the risibility of the 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 257 
 
 muscles, allied to convulsions rather than to intellectual 
 pleasure. 
 
 . Leigh Hunt devotes forty pages of one of his books — and 
 fails to elucidate the mystery at last. Johnson defines wit as 
 " the faculty of associating dissimilar images in an unusual 
 manner." Sydney Smith, in his " Lectures on Moral Philoso- 
 phy," shows the fallacy of this definition, gives a better, and 
 broaches the startling doctrine that wit, so far from being 
 necessarily a natural gift, might be studied as successfully as 
 mathematics. It is a question if Sheridan was witty when, 
 staggering along, half tipsy, he was eyed by a policeman, and 
 exclaimed, confidentially, " My name is Wilberforce — I am a 
 religious man — don't expose me." 
 
 Talleyrand, when asked by a lady famous for her beauty 
 and stupidity how she should rid herself of some of her trouble- 
 some admirers, replied, 
 
 " You have only to open your mouth, Madame." 
 
 This, if witty, was also ill-natured. 
 
 Lord Chatham rebuked a dishonest Chancellor of the Ex- 
 chequer by finishing a quotation the latter had commenced. 
 The debate turned upon some grant of money for the encour- 
 agement of art, which was opposed by the Chancellor of the 
 Exchequer, who finished his speech against Lord Chatham's 
 motion by saying, " ' Why was not this ointment sold and the 
 money given to the poor ? ' " Chatham rose, and said, " Why- 
 did not the noble lord complete the quotation, the application 
 being so striking ? As he has shrunk from it, I will finish the 
 verse for him — ' This Judas said, not that he cared for the poor, 
 but because he was a thief, and carried the tag.'' " 
 
 It was coarse wit when Lord Byron, who was groaning 
 with agony from a severe attack of colic, and exclaiming, 
 "Lord help me! I am dying," was told by Trelawney, "not 
 to make such an infernal fuss about dying." 
 
 Luttrell tells a story of Sir F. Gould, who had a habit of 
 adding the phrase " on the contrary " to every thing he said ; 
 a gentleman saying to him, " So I hear, Gould, you eat three 
 eggs every morning for breakfast ? " " No," replied Sir Francis, 
 " you are mistaken ; on the contrary — " "What the devil," 
 
258 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 said Luttrell, " does the contrary of eating three eggs mean? " 
 " Laying them, of course ! " said Sheridan. This was ready wit. 
 
 Rowland Hill compared a sinner to an oyster, which opened 
 its shell, all mouth, to take in the water ; just as the sinner, 
 with his mouth at full stretch, took in the tide of iniquity. 
 " Heavenly grace," he said, was " like a rump of beef— cut 
 and come again — no meagre fare, my dear brethren." 
 
 Lydia White, an English magazine writer, was an invalid, 
 and fancied herself continually at death's door, and used to 
 invite people to see her die. A friend, who had gone several 
 times by special invitation, and come away disappointed, at 
 last refused to attend, pleading that he " could not afford to 
 waste so much time on a mortuary uncertainty." 
 
 Scotchmen are notoriously unable to appreciate a joke. 
 Sydney Smith, who knows them well, says : " It requires a surgi- 
 cal operation to get a joke into a Scotch understanding. Their 
 only idea of wit, or wut, as they call it, is laughing immoder- 
 ately at stated intervals." 
 
 Some of the Irish judges of olden times were equally dull. 
 One, in giving his dictum on a certain will case, said he " thought 
 it very clear that the testator intended to keep a life interest 
 in the estate himself." To it Ourran frankly replied, " Very 
 true, my lord, very true ; testators generally do secure life in- 
 terests to themselves, but in this case, I think your worship 
 takes the will for the deed." 
 
 Some stupid people repel wit as useless. But it may 
 be asked what is labor without wit ? A pair of hands without 
 a head ; strength without mind ; a solitary, silent, painstaking 
 thing; moving through the dull earth, and blind as the earth in 
 which it works. Labor is a brute beast, which wit harnesses 
 and guides. Labor is wit's slave. By labor a man may 
 live, but it is only by wit that he can live well. By labor, 
 food and clothing may be produced, but by wit come life's 
 ornaments and embellishments. Labor grasps a handful of 
 earth, wit compasses the globe ; labor has but two hands, 
 wit works with a thousand ; labor digs, wit ploughs ; labor 
 toils heavily at the oar, wit spreads the broad sail or imprisons 
 the struggling power of steam ; labor writes and slowly multi- 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 259 
 
 plies the copies of its thoughts, wit prints, and its wisdom flies 
 through the world on a myriad of wings at once ; labor grinds 
 wearily at the hand-mill, wit catches the vagrant winds, binds 
 up the strength of the lazily flowing stream, and makes them 
 work its will ; labor has no legs but its own, wit appropriates 
 the speed of the horse, or flies unwearily on the wings of the 
 wind ; labor sits spinning at its solitary wheel, and slowly 
 produces its fruits, while wit sets a thousand wheels at work 
 at once, and the fable of Briareus ceases to be a romance ; 
 labor is a man's humiliation, that brings him and binds him 
 down to the earth, sensualizing his mind, and making him feel 
 as though the very end of his being were but mere existence ; 
 labor asks no questions, has no doubts, no thoughts, no aspira- 
 tions, no intellectual ambition ; it sees nothing in nature but 
 night and day, darkness and light — the night to sleep in and 
 the day to work in ; and so it moves its melancholy, monoto- 
 nous round, till it sinks to the dust and sleeps in a forgotten 
 grave. But by wit man lives to all that is around him, above 
 him, or beneath him. It is the ubiquity of the mind that con- 
 verses at once with the course of the planets and the customs 
 of the antipodes. It is ever busy in seeking to solve the great 
 riddle of being. It is the living principle of life, and is that 
 whereby a man feels that he is.- It is the exercise that 
 strengthens but wearies not. It is the activity of intellect that 
 finds as much pleasure in the arising of new doubts as in the 
 solution of its old ones. It is the muscle and nerve of the soul, 
 that longs for difficulties to wrestle with, and has an appetite 
 for mental conflict. Labor, if it thinks at all, thinks only of 
 and for itself; wit, though it thinks for itself, thinks of others ; 
 it makes universal acquaintance with universal nature, it reads 
 human thoughts, and sympathizes with human interests. Labor 
 is selfish even in its generosity ; wit is generous in its selfish- 
 ness. 
 
 To conclude, you may sometimes show that you have not 
 got your own wits about you, by thinking that other people 
 hawe. When Mrs. M'Gibbon was preparing to act Jane Shore, 
 at Liverpool, her dresser, an ignorant country girl, informed 
 her that a woman had called to request two box orders, 
 
260 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 because she and her daughter had walked four miles on pur- 
 pose to see the play. " Does she know me ? " inquired the mis- 
 tress. " Not at all,' 1 was the reply. " What a very odd request ! " 
 exclaimed Mrs. M'Gr. — " Has the good woman got her faculties 
 about her ? " — " I think she have, ma'am, for I see she ha' got 
 summut tied up in a red silk handkercher." 
 
 WOMAN — An exquisite production of nature, between a 
 rose and an angel, according to a German poet_; the female of 
 the human species, according to the zoologists ; the redeeming 
 portion of humanity, according to politer fact and experience. 
 Woman is a treasure of which the profligate and the unmar- 
 ried can never appreciate the full value, for he who possesses 
 many does not possess one. Malherbe says in his Letters, 
 that the Creator may have repented the creation of mau, but 
 that he had no reason 'to repent having made woman. Who 
 will deny this ; and which of us does not feel, though in due 
 subjection to a holier religion, the devotion of Anacreon, who, 
 when he was asked, why he addressed so many of his hymns 
 to women, and so few to the deities, answered, "Because 
 women are my deities ? " 
 
 In England the upper classes are generally so much occupied 
 with public affairs, or with local and magisterial duties, to say 
 nothing of the uncongenial sports of the field, that women are 
 obliged to associate with frivolous danglers and idlers, to whose 
 standard they necessarily lower their minds and their conver- 
 sation. To appear a blue-stocking, subjects a female to certain 
 ridicule with those coxcombs who adopt the silly notion of 
 Leasing, " that a young lady who thinks, is like a man who 
 rouges," and who maintain that she should address herself, not 
 to the sense, but to the senses of her male companions. Politics 
 have thus tended to effect a mental dissociation of the sexes, 
 the jealousy of dunces to trivialize the conversational inter- 
 course that still subsists, and women, whose unchecked intel- 
 lectual energies would be " Dolphin-like, and show themselves 
 above the element they move in," are compelled to bow to this 
 subjection, unless they have the courage to set up for blue- 
 stockings—and old maids. Were their supremacy to effect no 
 
THE TIN TRUMPET. 261 
 
 change in the present general character of the sex, I believe 
 the world would be an incalculable gainer by making them 
 lords of their lords, and committing to them the sole direction 
 of all affairs, both national and domestic. As some of our 
 most distinguished sovereigns have been females, is it unrea- 
 sonable to conclude that we should ensure permanent good 
 government for the whole human race, by acknowledging the 
 sovereignty of the sex ? 
 
 To the French must be assigned the honor of the follow- 
 ing just encomium, " Sans les femmes les deux extremites de la 
 vie seradent sans secours, et le milieu sans plaisirs." 
 
 "WORDS — Sometimes signs of ideas, and sometimes of the 
 want of them. When so many are coining new words, it is a 
 security against a superfluous supply to know that old ones 
 are occasionally lost. An Eton scholar, whose faculties had 
 been bemuddled with the spondees and dactyls of prosody, 
 having got out of nominal into real nonsense verses, carried 
 up a soi-disant Latin epigram to his master. After reading it 
 over two or three times very carefully, the pedagogue exclaimed, 
 " I cannot find any verb here." "That is the reason that I 
 brought it to you," said the boy with great naivete ; " I thought 
 you might perhaps tell me where it was." 
 
 WORLD — The — A great inn, kept in a perpetual bustle by 
 arrivals and departures : by the going away of those who have 
 just paid their bills, (the debt of nature,) and the coming of 
 those who soon have a similar account to settle : — Decessio 
 pereuntium, et successio periturorum. 
 
 WRITING — Painting invisible words — giving substance 
 and color to immaterial thought, enabling the dumb to talk 
 to the deaf. 
 
 WRONG — may be aggravated without any increase of evil 
 doing, as good may be diminished without any abatement of 
 actual beneficence. " Joyful remembrances of wrong actions," 
 says Jean Paul, " are their half repetitions, as repentant remem- 
 
262 THE TIN TRUMPET. 
 
 brances of good ones are their half abolishment. In law, the 
 intention, not the act, constitutes the crime ; and in the moral 
 law, virtue should be measured by the same standard. 
 
 TAWNHsTG — Opening the mouth when you are sleepy, and 
 want to shut your eyes ; an infectious sensation very prevalent 
 during the delivery of a tedious sermon, or the perusal of a 
 dull novel, but never experienced when reading a work like 
 the present ! 
 
 YEARS — of discretion. The young and giddy reader is 
 requested to see — Greek Calends. 
 
 YOUTH — A magic lantern, that surrouncls us with illusions 
 which excite pleasure, surprise, and admiration, whatever be 
 their nature. The old age of the sensual and the vicious is the 
 same lantern without its magic — the glasses broken, and the 
 illusions gone, while the exhausted lamp, threatening every 
 moment to expire, sheds a ghastly glare, not upon a fair table- 
 cloth, full of jocund associations, but upon what appears to be 
 a dismal shroud, prepared to receive our remains. 
 
 And now, gentle reader, or rather may I call you simple, 
 if you have waded through this strange farago, here will I 
 bring it to a close, hoping by its example the better to impress 
 upon you the pithy precept, that all our follies and frivoli- 
 ties, all our crude and undigested notions, all our " bald and 
 disjointed talk," should, like this little volume, terminate with 
 — Youth. 
 
 the END. 
 
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