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Sabbath, n. A
weekly festival having its origin in the fact that God made the world in
six days and was arrested on the seventh. Among the Jews observance of the
day was enforced by a Commandment of which this is the Christian version:
"Remember the seventh day to make thy neighbor keep it wholly." To the
Creator it seemed fit and expedient that the Sabbath should be the last
day of the week, but the Early Fathers of the Church held other views. So
great is the sanctity of the day that even where the Lord holds a doubtful
and precarious jurisdiction over those who go down to (and down into) the
sea it is reverently recognized, as is manifest in the following
deep-water version of the Fourth Commandment:
Six days shalt thou labor and do all thou art able,
And on the seventh holystone the deck and scrape the cable.
Decks are no longer
holystoned, but the cable still supplies the captain with opportunity to
attest a pious respect for the divine ordinance.
Sacerdotalist, n. One
who holds the belief that a clergyman is a priest. Denial of this
momentous doctrine is the hardest challenge that is now flung into the
teeth of the Episcopalian church by the Neo-Dictionarians.
Sacrament, n. A
solemn religious ceremony to which several degrees of authority and
significance are attached. Rome has seven sacraments, but the Protestant
churches, being less prosperous, feel that they can afford only two, and
these of inferior sanctity. Some of the smaller sects have no sacraments
at all— for which mean economy they will indubitable be damned.
Sacred, adj. Dedicated
to some religious purpose; having a divine character; inspiring solemn
thoughts or emotions; as, the Dalai Lama of Thibet; the Moogum of M'bwango;
the temple of Apes in Ceylon; the Cow in India; the Crocodile, the Cat and
the Onion of ancient Egypt; the Mufti of Moosh; the hair of the dog that
bit Noah, etc.
All things are either sacred or profane.
The former to ecclesiasts bring gain;
The latter to the devil appertain.
Dumbo Omohundro.
Sandlotter, n. A
vertebrate mammal holding the political views of Denis Kearney, a
notorious demagogue of San Francisco, whose audiences gathered in the open
spaces (sandlots) of the town. True to the traditions of his species, this
leader of the proletariat was finally bought off by his law-and-order
enemies, living prosperously silent and dying impenitently rich. But
before his treason he imposed upon California a constitution that was a
confection of sin in a diction of solecisms. The similarity between the
words "sandlotter" and "sansculotte" is problematically significant, but
indubitably suggestive.
Safety-Clutch, n. A
mechanical device acting automatically to prevent the fall of an elevator,
or cage, in case of an accident to the hoisting apparatus.
Once I seen a human ruin
In an elevator-well,
And his members was bestrewin'
All the place where he had fell.
And I says, apostrophisin'
That uncommon woful wreck:
"Your position's so surprisin'
That I tremble for your neck!"
Then that ruin, smilin' sadly
And impressive, up and spoke:
"Well, I wouldn't tremble badly,
For it's been a fortnight broke."
Then, for further comprehension
Of his attitude, he begs
I will focus my attention
On his various arms and legs—
How they all are contumacious;
Where they each, respective, lie;
How one trotter proves ungracious,
T'other one an alibi.
These particulars is mentioned
For to show his dismal state,
Which I wasn't first intentioned
To specifical relate.
None is worser to be dreaded
That I ever have heard tell
Than the gent's who there was spreaded
In that elevator-well.
Now this tale is allegoric—
It is figurative all,
For the well is metaphoric
And the feller didn't fall.
I opine it isn't moral
For a writer-man to cheat,
And despise to wear a laurel
As was gotten by deceit.
For 'tis Politics intended
By the elevator, mind,
It will boost a person splendid
If his talent is the kind.
Col. Bryan had the talent
(For the busted man is him)
And it shot him up right gallant
Till his head begun to swim.
Then the rope it broke above him
And he painful come to earth
Where there's nobody to love him
For his detrimented worth.
Though he's livin' none would know him,
Or at leastwise not as such.
Moral of this woful poem:
Frequent oil your safety-clutch.
Porfer Poog.
Saint, n. A
dead sinner revised and edited.
The Duchess of
Orleans relates that the irreverent old calumniator, Marshal Villeroi, who
in his youth had known St. Francis de Sales, said, on hearing him called
saint: "I am delighted to hear that Monsieur de Sales is a saint. He was
fond of saying indelicate things, and used to cheat at cards. In other
respects he was a perfect gentleman, though a fool."
Salacity, n. A
certain literary quality frequently observed in popular novels, especially
in those written by women and young girls, who give it another name and
think that in introducing it they are occupying a neglected field of
letters and reaping an overlooked harvest. If they have the misfortune to
live long enough they are tormented with a desire to burn their sheaves.
Salamander, n. Originally
a reptile inhabiting fire; later, an anthropomorphous immortal, but still
a pyrophile. Salamanders are now believed to be extinct, the last one of
which we have an account having been seen in Carcassonne by the Abbe
Belloc, who exorcised it with a bucket of holy water.
Sarcophagus, n. Among
the Greeks a coffin which being made of a certain kind of carnivorous
stone, had the peculiar property of devouring the body placed in it. The
sarcophagus known to modern obsequiographers is commonly a product of the
carpenter's art.
Satan, n. One
of the Creator's lamentable mistakes, repented in sashcloth and axes.
Being instated as an archangel, Satan made himself multifariously
objectionable and was finally expelled from Heaven. Halfway in his descent
he paused, bent his head in thought a moment and at last went back. "There
is one favor that I should like to ask," said he.
"Name it."
"Man, I understand,
is about to be created. He will need laws."
"What, wretch! you
his appointed adversary, charged from the dawn of eternity with hatred of
his soul— you ask for the right to make his laws?"
"Pardon; what I have
to ask is that he be permitted to make them himself."
It was so ordered.
Satiety, n. The
feeling that one has for the plate after he has eaten its contents, madam.
Satire, n. An
obsolete kind of literary composition in which the vices and follies of
the author's enemies were expounded with imperfect tenderness. In this
country satire never had more than a sickly and uncertain existence, for
the soul of it is wit, wherein we are dolefully deficient, the humor that
we mistake for it, like all humor, being tolerant and sympathetic.
Moreover, although Americans are "endowed by their Creator" with abundant
vice and folly, it is not generally known that these are reprehensible
qualities, wherefore the satirist is popularly regarded as a sour-spirited
knave, and his ever victim's outcry for codefendants evokes a national
assent.
Hail Satire! be thy praises ever sung
In the dead language of a mummy's tongue,
For thou thyself art dead, and damned as well—
Thy spirit (usefully employed) in Hell.
Had it been such as consecrates the Bible
Thou hadst not perished by the law of libel.
Barney Stims.
Satyr, n. One
of the few characters of the Grecian mythology accorded recognition in the
Hebrew. (Leviticus, xvii, 7.) The satyr was at first a member of the
dissolute community acknowledging a loose allegiance with Dionysius, but
underwent many transformations and improvements. Not infrequently he is
confounded with the faun, a later and decenter creation of the Romans, who
was less like a man and more like a goat.
Sauce, n. The
one infallible sign of civilization and enlightenment. A people with no
sauces has one thousand vices; a people with one sauce has only nine
hundred and ninety-nine. For every sauce invented and accepted a vice is
renounced and forgiven.
Saw, n. A
trite popular saying, or proverb. (Figurative and colloquial.) So called
because it makes its way into a wooden head. Following are examples of old
saws fitted with new teeth.
A penny saved is a penny to squander.
A man is known by the company that he organizes.
A bad workman quarrels with the man who calls him that.
A bird in the hand is worth what it will bring.
Better late than before anybody has invited you.
Example is better than following it.
Half a loaf is better than a whole one if there is much
else.
Think twice before you speak to a friend in need.
What is worth doing is worth the trouble of asking somebody
to do it.
Least said is soonest disavowed.
He laughs best who laughs least.
Speak of the Devil and he will hear about it.
Of two evils choose to be the least.
Strike while your employer has a big contract.
Where there's a will there's a won't.
Scarabaeus, n. The
sacred beetle of the ancient Egyptians, allied to our familiar
"tumble-bug." It was supposed to symbolize immortality, the fact that God
knew why giving it its peculiar sanctity. Its habit of incubating its eggs
in a ball of ordure may also have commended it to the favor of the
priesthood, and may some day assure it an equal reverence among ourselves.
True, the American beetle is an inferior beetle, but the American priest
is an inferior priest.
Scarabee, n. The
same as scarabaeus.
He fell by his own hand
Beneath the great oak tree.
He'd traveled in a foreign land.
He tried to make her understand
The dance that's called the Saraband,
But he called it Scarabee.
He had called it so through an afternoon,
And she, the light of his harem if so might be,
Had smiled and said naught. O the body was fair to see,
All frosted there in the shine o' the moon—
Dead for a Scarabee
And a recollection that came too late.
O Fate!
They buried him where he lay,
He sleeps awaiting the Day,
In state,
And two Possible Puns, moon-eyed and wan,
Gloom over the grave and then move on.
Dead for a Scarabee!
Fernando Tapple.
Scarification, n. A
form of penance practised by the mediaeval pious. The rite was performed,
sometimes with a knife, sometimes with a hot iron, but always, says
Arsenius Asceticus, acceptably if the penitent spared himself no pain nor
harmless disfigurement. Scarification, with other crude penances, has now
been superseded by benefaction. The founding of a library or endowment of
a university is said to yield to the penitent a sharper and more lasting
pain than is conferred by the knife or iron, and is therefore a surer
means of grace. There are, however, two grave objections to it as a
penitential method: the good that it does and the taint of justice.
Scepter, n. A
king's staff of office, the sign and symbol of his authority. It was
originally a mace with which the sovereign admonished his jester and
vetoed ministerial measures by breaking the bones of their proponents.
Scimetar, n. A
curved sword of exceeding keenness, in the conduct of which certain
Orientals attain a surprising proficiency, as the incident here related
will serve to show. The account is translated from the Japanese by Shusi
Itama, a famous writer of the thirteenth century.
When the great
Gichi-Kuktai was Mikado he condemned to decapitation Jijiji Ri, a high
officer of the Court. Soon after the hour appointed for performance of the
rite what was his Majesty's surprise to see calmly approaching the throne
the man who should have been at that time ten minutes dead!
"Seventeen hundred
impossible dragons!" shouted the enraged monarch. "Did I not sentence you
to stand in the market-place and have your head struck off by the public
executioner at three o'clock? And is it not now 3:10?"
"Son of a thousand
illustrious deities," answered the condemned minister, "all that you say
is so true that the truth is a lie in comparison. But your heavenly
Majesty's sunny and vitalizing wishes have been pestilently disregarded.
With joy I ran and placed my unworthy body in the market-place. The
executioner appeared with his bare scimetar, ostentatiously whirled it in
air, and then, tapping me lightly upon the neck, strode away, pelted by
the populace, with whom I was ever a favorite. I am come to pray for
justice upon his own dishonorable and treasonous head."
"To what regiment of
executioners does the black-boweled caitiff belong?" asked the Mikado.
"To the gallant
Ninety-eight Hundred and Thirty-seventh— I know the man. His name is
Sakko-Samshi."
"Let him be brought
before me," said the Mikado to an attendant, and a half-hour later the
culprit stood in the Presence.
"Thou bastard son of a
three-legged hunchback without thumbs!" roared the sovereign— "why didst
thou but lightly tap the neck that it should have been thy pleasure to
sever?"
"Lord of Cranes of
Cherry Blooms," replied the executioner, unmoved, "command him to blow his
nose with his fingers."
Being commanded,
Jijiji Ri laid hold of his nose and trumpeted like an elephant, all
expecting to see the severed head flung violently from him. Nothing
occurred: the performance prospered peacefully to the close, without
incident.
All eyes were now
turned on the executioner, who had grown as white as the snows on the
summit of Fujiama. His legs trembled and his breath came in gasps of
terror.
"Several kinds of
spike-tailed brass lions!" he cried; "I am a ruined and disgraced
swordsman! I struck the villain feebly because in flourishing the scimetar
I had accidentally passed it through my own neck! Father of the Moon, I
resign my office."
So saying, he gasped
his top-knot, lifted off his head, and advancing to the throne laid it
humbly at the Mikado's feet.
Scrap-Book, n. A
book that is commonly edited by a fool. Many persons of some small
distinction compile scrap-books containing whatever they happen to read
about themselves or employ others to collect. One of these egotists was
addressed in the lines following, by Agamemnon Melancthon Peters:
Dear Frank, that scrap-book where you boast
You keep a record true
Of every kind of peppered roast
That's made of you;
Wherein you paste the printed gibes
That revel round your name,
Thinking the laughter of the scribes
Attests your fame;
Where all the pictures you arrange
That comic pencils trace—
Your funny figure and your strange
Semitic face—
Pray lend it me. Wit I have not,
Nor art, but there I'll list
The daily drubbings you'd have got
Had God a fist.
Scribbler, n. A
professional writer whose views are antagonistic to one's own.
Scriptures, n. The
sacred books of our holy religion, as distinguished from the false and
profane writings on which all other faiths are based.
Seal, n. A
mark impressed upon certain kinds of documents to attest their
authenticity and authority. Sometimes it is stamped upon wax, and attached
to the paper, sometimes into the paper itself. Sealing, in this sense, is
a survival of an ancient custom of inscribing important papers with
cabalistic words or signs to give them a magical efficacy independent of
the authority that they represent. In the British museum are preserved
many ancient papers, mostly of a sacerdotal character, validated by
necromantic pentagrams and other devices, frequently initial letters of
words to conjure with; and in many instances these are attached in the
same way that seals are appended now. As nearly every reasonless and
apparently meaningless custom, rite or observance of modern times had
origin in some remote utility, it is pleasing to note an example of
ancient nonsense evolving in the process of ages into something really
useful. Our word "sincere" is derived from sine cero, without wax,
but the learned are not in agreement as to whether this refers to the
absence of the cabalistic signs, or to that of the wax with which letters
were formerly closed from public scrutiny. Either view of the matter will
serve one in immediate need of an hypothesis. The initials L.S., commonly
appended to signatures of legal documents, mean locum sigillis, the
place of the seal, although the seal is no longer used— an admirable
example of conservatism distinguishing Man from the beasts that perish.
The words locum sigillis are humbly suggested as a suitable motto
for the Pribyloff Islands whenever they shall take their place as a
sovereign State of the American Union.
Seine, n. A
kind of net for effecting an involuntary change of environment. For fish
it is made strong and coarse, but women are more easily taken with a
singularly delicate fabric weighted with small, cut stones.
The devil casting a seine of lace,
(With precious stones 'twas weighted)
Drew it into the landing place
And its contents calculated.
All souls of women were in that sack—
A draft miraculous, precious!
But ere he could throw it across his back
They'd all escaped through the meshes.
Baruch de Loppis.
Self-esteem, n. An
erroneous appraisement.
Self-evident, adj. Evident
to one's self and to nobody else.
Selfish, adj. Devoid
of consideration for the selfishness of others.
Senate, n. A
body of elderly gentlemen charged with high duties and misdemeanors.
Serial, n. A
literary work, usually a story that is not true, creeping through several
issues of a newspaper or magazine. Frequently appended to each installment
is a "synopsis of preceding chapters" for those who have not read them,
but a direr need is a synopsis of succeeding chapters for those who do not
intend to read them. A synopsis of the entire work would be still
better.
The late James F.
Bowman was writing a serial tale for a weekly paper in collaboration with
a genius whose name has not come down to us. They wrote, not jointly but
alternately, Bowman supplying the installment for one week, his friend for
the next, and so on, world without end, they hoped. Unfortunately they
quarreled, and one Monday morning when Bowman read the paper to prepare
himself for his task, he found his work cut out for him in a way to
surprise and pain him. His collaborator had embarked every character of
the narrative on a ship and sunk them all in the deepest part of the
Atlantic.
Severalty, n. Separateness,
as, lands in severalty, i.e., lands held individually, not in joint
ownership. Certain tribes of Indians are believed now to be sufficiently
civilized to have in severalty the lands that they have hitherto held as
tribal organizations, and could not sell to the Whites for waxen beads and
potato whiskey.
Lo! the poor Indian whose unsuited mind
Saw death before, hell and the grave behind;
Whom thrifty settler ne'er besought to stay—
His small belongings their appointed prey;
Whom Dispossession, with alluring wile,
Persuaded elsewhere every little while!
His fire unquenched and his undying worm
By "land in severalty" (charming term!)
Are cooled and killed, respectively, at last,
And he to his new holding anchored fast!
Sheriff, n. In
America the chief executive office of a county, whose most characteristic
duties, in some of the Western and Southern States, are the catching and
hanging of rogues.
John Elmer Pettibone Cajee
(I write of him with little glee)
Was just as bad as he could be.
'Twas frequently remarked: "I swon!
The sun has never looked upon
So bad a man as Neighbor John."
A sinner through and through, he had
This added fault: it made him mad
To know another man was bad.
In such a case he thought it right
To rise at any hour of night
And quench that wicked person's light.
Despite the town's entreaties, he
Would hale him to the nearest tree
And leave him swinging wide and free.
Or sometimes, if the humor came,
A luckless wight's reluctant frame
Was given to the cheerful flame.
While it was turning nice and brown,
All unconcerned John met the frown
Of that austere and righteous town.
"How sad," his neighbors said, "that he
So scornful of the law should be—
An anar c, h, i, s, t."
(That is the way that they preferred
To utter the abhorrent word,
So strong the aversion that it stirred.)
"Resolved," they said, continuing,
"That Badman John must cease this thing
Of having his unlawful fling.
"Now, by these sacred relics"— here
Each man had out a souvenir
Got at a lynching yesteryear—
"By these we swear he shall forsake
His ways, nor cause our hearts to ache
By sins of rope and torch and stake.
"We'll tie his red right hand until
He'll have small freedom to fulfil
The mandates of his lawless will."
So, in convention then and there,
They named him Sheriff. The affair
Was opened, it is said, with prayer.
J. Milton Sloluck.
Siren, n. One
of several musical prodigies famous for a vain attempt to dissuade
Odysseus from a life on the ocean wave. Figuratively, any lady of splendid
promise, dissembled purpose and disappointing performance.
Slang, n. The
grunt of the human hog (Pignoramus intolerabilis) with an audible
memory. The speech of one who utters with his tongue what he thinks with
his ear, and feels the pride of a creator in accomplishing the feat of a
parrot. A means (under Providence) of setting up as a wit without a
capital of sense.
Smithareen, n. A
fragment, a decomponent part, a remain. The word is used variously, but in
the following verse on a noted female reformer who opposed bicycle-riding
by women because it "led them to the devil" it is seen at its best:
The wheels go round without a sound—
The maidens hold high revel;
In sinful mood, insanely gay,
True spinsters spin adown the way
From duty to the devil!
They laugh, they sing, and— ting-a-ling!
Their bells go all the morning;
Their lanterns bright bestar the night
Pedestrians a-warning.
With lifted hands Miss Charlotte stands,
Good-Lording and O-mying,
Her rheumatism forgotten quite,
Her fat with anger frying.
She blocks the path that leads to wrath,
Jack Satan's power defying.
The wheels go round without a sound
The lights burn red and blue and green.
What's this that's found upon the ground?
Poor Charlotte Smith's a smithareen!
John William Yope.
Sophistry, n. The
controversial method of an opponent, distinguished from one's own by
superior insincerity and fooling. This method is that of the later
Sophists, a Grecian sect of philosophers who began by teaching wisdom,
prudence, science, art and, in brief, whatever men ought to know, but lost
themselves in a maze of quibbles and a fog of words.
His bad opponent's "facts" he sweeps away,
And drags his sophistry to light of day;
Then swears they're pushed to madness who resort
To falsehood of so desperate a sort.
Not so; like sods upon a dead man's breast,
He lies most lightly who the least is pressed.
Polydore Smith.
Sorcery, n. The
ancient prototype and forerunner of political influence. It was, however,
deemed less respectable and sometimes was punished by torture and death.
Augustine Nicholas relates that a poor peasant who had been accused of
sorcery was put to the torture to compel a confession. After enduring a
few gentle agonies the suffering simpleton admitted his guilt, but naively
asked his tormentors if it were not possible to be a sorcerer without
knowing it.
Soul, n. A
spiritual entity concerning which there hath been brave disputation. Plato
held that those souls which in a previous state of existence (antedating
Athens) had obtained the clearest glimpses of eternal truth entered into
the bodies of persons who became philosophers. Plato himself was a
philosopher. The souls that had least contemplated divine truth animated
the bodies of usurpers and despots. Dionysius I, who had threatened to
decapitate the broad-browed philosopher, was a usurper and a despot.
Plato, doubtless, was not the first to construct a system of philosophy
that could be quoted against his enemies; certainly he was not the last.
"Concerning the
nature of the soul," saith the renowned author of Diversiones
Sanctorum, "there hath been hardly more argument than that of its
place in the body. Mine own belief is that the soul hath her seat in the
abdomen— in which faith we may discern and interpret a truth hitherto
unintelligible, namely that the glutton is of all men most devout. He is
said in the Scripture to 'make a god of his belly'— why, then, should he
not be pious, having ever his Deity with him to freshen his faith? Who so
well as he can know the might and majesty that he shrines? Truly and
soberly, the soul and the stomach are one Divine Entity; and such was the
belief of Promasius, who nevertheless erred in denying it immortality. He
had observed that its visible and material substance failed and decayed
with the rest of the body after death, but of its immaterial essence he
knew nothing. This is what we call the Appetite, and it survives the wreck
and reek of mortality, to be rewarded or punished in another world,
according to what it hath demanded in the flesh. The Appetite whose coarse
clamoring was for the unwholesome viands of the general market and the
public refectory shall be cast into eternal famine, whilst that which
firmly through civilly insisted on ortolans, caviare, terrapin, anchovies,
pâtés de foie gras and all such Christian comestibles shall flesh
its spiritual tooth in the souls of them forever and ever, and wreak its
divine thirst upon the immortal parts of the rarest and richest wines ever
quaffed here below. Such is my religious faith, though I grieve to confess
that neither His Holiness the Pope nor His Grace the Archbishop of
Canterbury (whom I equally and profoundly revere) will assent to its
dissemination."
Spooker, n. A
writer whose imagination concerns itself with supernatural phenomena,
especially in the doings of spooks. One of the most illustrious spookers
of our time is Mr. William D. Howells, who introduces a well-credentialed
reader to as respectable and mannerly a company of spooks as one could
wish to meet. To the terror that invests the chairman of a district school
board, the Howells ghost adds something of the mystery enveloping a farmer
from another township.
Story, n. A
narrative, commonly untrue. The truth of the stories here following has,
however, not been successfully impeached.
One evening Mr.
Rudolph Block, of New York, found himself seated at dinner alongside Mr.
Percival Pollard, the distinguished critic.
"Mr. Pollard," said
he, "my book, The Biography of a Dead Cow, is published
anonymously, but you can hardly be ignorant of its authorship. Yet in
reviewing it you speak of it as the work of the Idiot of the Century. Do
you think that fair criticism?"
"I am very sorry,
sir," replied the critic, amiably, "but it did not occur to me that you
really might not wish the public to know who wrote it."
Mr. W.C. Morrow, who
used to live in San Jose, California, was addicted to writing ghost
stories which made the reader feel as if a stream of lizards, fresh from
the ice, were streaking it up his back and hiding in his hair. San Jose
was at that time believed to be haunted by the visible spirit of a noted
bandit named Vasquez, who had been hanged there. The town was not very
well lighted, and it is putting it mildly to say that San Jose was
reluctant to be out o' nights. One particularly dark night two gentlemen
were abroad in the loneliest spot within the city limits, talking loudly
to keep up their courage, when they came upon Mr. J.J. Owen, a well-known
journalist.
"Why, Owen," said
one, "what brings you here on such a night as this? You told me that this
is one of Vasquez' favorite haunts! And you are a believer. Aren't you
afraid to be out?"
"My dear fellow," the
journalist replied with a drear autumnal cadence in his speech, like the
moan of a leaf-laden wind, "I am afraid to be in. I have one of Will
Morrow's stories in my pocket and I don't dare to go where there is light
enough to read it."
Rear-Admiral Schley
and Representative Charles F. Joy were standing near the Peace Monument,
in Washington, discussing the question, Is success a failure? Mr. Joy
suddenly broke off in the middle of an eloquent sentence, exclaiming:
"Hello! I've heard that band before. Santlemann's, I think."
"I don't hear any
band," said Schley.
"Come to think, I
don't either," said Joy; "but I see General Miles coming down the avenue,
and that pageant always affects me in the same way as a brass band. One
has to scrutinize one's impressions pretty closely, or one will mistake
their origin."
While the Admiral was
digesting this hasty meal of philosophy General Miles passed in review, a
spectacle of impressive dignity. When the tail of the seeming procession
had passed and the two observers had recovered from the transient
blindness caused by its effulgence—
"He seems to be
enjoying himself," said the Admiral.
"There is nothing,"
assented Joy, thoughtfully, "that he enjoys one-half so well."
The illustrious
statesman, Champ Clark, once lived about a mile from the village of
Jebigue, in Missouri. One day he rode into town on a favorite mule, and,
hitching the beast on the sunny side of a street, in front of a saloon, he
went inside in his character of teetotaler, to apprise the barkeeper that
wine is a mocker. It was a dreadfully hot day. Pretty soon a neighbor came
in and seeing Clark, said:
"Champ, it is not
right to leave that mule out there in the sun. He'll roast, sure!— he was
smoking as I passed him."
"O, he's all right,"
said Clark, lightly; "he's an inveterate smoker."
The neighbor took a
lemonade, but shook his head and repeated that it was not right.
He was a conspirator.
There had been a fire the night before: a stable just around the corner
had burned and a number of horses had put on their immortality, among them
a young colt, which was roasted to a rich nut-brown. Some of the boys had
turned Mr. Clark's mule loose and substituted the mortal part of the colt.
Presently another man entered the saloon.
"For mercy's sake!"
he said, taking it with sugar, "do remove that mule, barkeeper: it
smells."
"Yes," interposed
Clark, "that animal has the best nose in Missouri. But if he doesn't mind,
you shouldn't."
In the course of
human events Mr. Clark went out, and there, apparently, lay the
incinerated and shrunken remains of his charger. The boys did not have any
fun out of Mr. Clark, who looked at the body and, with the non-committal
expression to which he owes so much of his political preferment, went
away. But walking home late that night he saw his mule standing silent and
solemn by the wayside in the misty moonlight. Mentioning the name of Helen
Blazes with uncommon emphasis, Mr. Clark took the back track as hard as
ever he could hook it, and passed the night in town.
General H. H.
Wotherspoon, president of the Army War College, has a pet rib-nosed
baboon, an animal of uncommon intelligence but imperfectly beautiful.
Returning to his apartment one evening, the General was surprised and
pained to find Adam (for so the creature is named, the general being a
Darwinian) sitting up for him and wearing his master's best uniform coat,
epaulettes and all.
"You confounded
remote ancestor!" thundered the great strategist, "what do you mean by
being out of bed after naps?— and with my coat on!"
Adam rose and with a
reproachful look got down on all fours in the manner of his kind and,
scuffling across the room to a table, returned with a visiting-card:
General Barry had called and, judging by an empty champagne bottle and
several cigar-stumps, had been hospitably entertained while waiting. The
general apologized to his faithful progenitor and retired. The next day he
met General Barry, who said:
"Spoon, old man, when
leaving you last evening I forgot to ask you about those excellent cigars.
Where did you get them?"
General Wotherspoon
did not deign to reply, but walked away.
"Pardon me, please,"
said Barry, moving after him; "I was joking of course. Why, I knew it was
not you before I had been in the room fifteen minutes."
Success, n. The
one unpardonable sin against one's fellows. In literature, and
particularly in poetry, the elements of success are exceedingly simple,
and are admirably set forth in the following lines by the reverend Father
Gassalasca Jape, entitled, for some mysterious reason, "John A. Joyce."
The bard who would prosper must carry a book,
Do his thinking in prose and wear
A crimson cravat, a far-away look
And a head of hexameter hair.
Be thin in your thought and your body'll be fat;
If you wear your hair long you needn't your hat.
Suffrage, n. Expression
of opinion by means of a ballot. The right of suffrage (which is held to
be both a privilege and a duty) means, as commonly interpreted, the right
to vote for the man of another man's choice, and is highly prized. Refusal
to do so has the bad name of "incivism." The incivilian, however, cannot
be properly arraigned for his crime, for there is no legitimate accuser.
If the accuser is himself guilty he has no standing in the court of
opinion; if not, he profits by the crime, for A's abstention from voting
gives greater weight to the vote of B. By female suffrage is meant the
right of a woman to vote as some man tells her to. It is based on female
responsibility, which is somewhat limited. The woman most eager to jump
out of her petticoat to assert her rights is first to jump back into it
when threatened with a switching for misusing them.
Sycophant, n. One
who approaches Greatness on his belly so that he may not be commanded to
turn and be kicked. He is sometimes an editor.
As the lean leech, its victim found, is pleased
To fix itself upon a part diseased
Till, its black hide distended with bad blood,
It drops to die of surfeit in the mud,
So the base sycophant with joy descries
His neighbor's weak spot and his mouth applies,
Gorges and prospers like the leech, although,
Unlike that reptile, he will not let go.
Gelasma, if it paid you to devote
Your talent to the service of a goat,
Showing by forceful logic that its beard
Is more than Aaron's fit to be revered;
If to the task of honoring its smell
Profit had prompted you, and love as well,
The world would benefit at last by you
And wealthy malefactors weep anew—
Your favor for a moment's space denied
And to the nobler object turned aside.
Isn't not enough that thrifty millionaires
Who loot in freight and spoliate in fares,
Or, cursed with consciences that bid them fly
To safer villainies of darker dye,
Forswearing robbery and fain, instead,
To steal (they call it "cornering") our bread
May see you groveling their boots to lick
And begging for the favor of a kick?
Still must you follow to the bitter end
Your sycophantic disposition's trend,
And in your eagerness to please the rich
Hunt hungry sinners to their final ditch?
In Morgan's praise you smite the sounding wire,
And sing hosannas to great Havemeyer!
What's Satan done that him you should eschew?
He too is reeking rich— deducting you.
Syllogism, n. A
logical formula consisting of a major and a minor assumption and an
inconsequent. (See LOGIC.)
Sylph, n. An
immaterial but visible being that inhabited the air when the air was an
element and before it was fatally polluted with factory smoke, sewer gas
and similar products of civilization. Sylphs were allied to gnomes, nymphs
and salamanders, which dwelt, respectively, in earth, water and fire, all
now insalubrious. Sylphs, like fowls of the air, were male and female, to
no purpose, apparently, for if they had progeny they must have nested in
accessible places, none of the chicks having ever been seen.
Symbol, n. Something
that is supposed to typify or stand for something else. Many symbols are
mere "survivals"— things which having no longer any utility continue to
exist because we have inherited the tendency to make them; as funereal
urns carved on memorial monuments. They were once real urns holding the
ashes of the dead. We cannot stop making them, but we can give them a name
that conceals our helplessness.
Symbolic, adj. Pertaining
to symbols and the use and interpretation of symbols.
They say 'tis conscience feels compunction;
I hold that that's the stomach's function,
For of the sinner I have noted
That when he's sinned he's somewhat bloated,
Or ill some other ghastly fashion
Within that bowel of compassion.
True, I believe the only sinner
Is he that eats a shabby dinner.
You know how Adam with good reason,
For eating apples out of season,
Was "cursed." But that is all symbolic:
The truth is, Adam had the colic.
G.J.
T
T,
the twentieth letter of the English alphabet, was by the Greeks absurdly
called tau. In the alphabet whence ours comes it had the form of
the rude corkscrew of the period, and when it stood alone (which was more
than the Phoenicians could always do) signified Tallegal,
translated by the learned Dr. Brownrigg, "tanglefoot."
Table
d' Hôte, n. A
caterer's thrifty concession to the universal passion for
irresponsibility.
Old Paunchinello, freshly wed,
Took Madam P. to table,
And there deliriously fed
As fast as he was able.
"I dote upon good grub," he cried,
Intent upon its throatage.
"Ah, yes," said the neglected bride,
"You're in your table d' hôtage."
Associated Poets.
Tail, n. The
part of an animal's spine that has transcended its natural limitations to
set up an independent existence in a world of its own. Excepting in its
foetal state, Man is without a tail, a privation of which he attests an
hereditary and uneasy consciousness by the coat-skirt of the male and the
train of the female, and by a marked tendency to ornament that part of his
attire where the tail should be, and indubitably once was. This tendency
is most observable in the female of the species, in whom the ancestral
sense is strong and persistent. The tailed men described by Lord Monboddo
are now generally regarded as a product of an imagination unusually
susceptible to influences generated in the golden age of our pithecan
past.
Take, v.t. To
acquire, frequently by force but preferably by stealth.
Talk, v.t. To
commit an indiscretion without temptation, from an impulse without
purpose.
Tariff, n. A
scale of taxes on imports, designed to protect the domestic producer
against the greed of his consumer.
The Enemy of Human Souls
Sat grieving at the cost of coals;
For Hell had been annexed of late,
And was a sovereign Southern State.
"It were no more than right," said he,
"That I should get my fuel free.
The duty, neither just nor wise,
Compels me to economize—
Whereby my broilers, every one,
Are execrably underdone.
What would they have?— although I yearn
To do them nicely to a turn,
I can't afford an honest heat.
This tariff makes even devils cheat!
I'm ruined, and my humble trade
All rascals may at will invade:
Beneath my nose the public press
Outdoes me in sulphureousness;
The bar ingeniously applies
To my undoing my own lies;
My medicines the doctors use
(Albeit vainly) to refuse
To me my fair and rightful prey
And keep their own in shape to pay;
The preachers by example teach
What, scorning to perform, I preach;
And statesmen, aping me, all make
More promises than they can break.
Against such competition I
Lift up a disregarded cry.
Since all ignore my just complaint,
By Hokey-Pokey! I'll turn saint!"
Now, the Republicans, who all
Are saints, began at once to bawl
Against his competition; so
There was a devil of a go!
They locked horns with him, tête-à-tête
In acrimonious debate,
Till Democrats, forlorn and lone,
Had hopes of coming by their own.
That evil to avert, in haste
The two belligerents embraced;
But since 'twere wicked to relax
A tittle of the Sacred Tax,
'Twas finally agreed to grant
The bold Insurgent-protestant
A bounty on each soul that fell
Into his ineffectual Hell.
Edam Smith.
Technicality, n. In
an English court a man named Home was tried for slander in having accused
his neighbor of murder. His exact words were: "Sir Thomas Holt hath taken
a cleaver and stricken his cook upon the head, so that one side of the
head fell upon one shoulder and the other side upon the other shoulder."
The defendant was acquitted by instruction of the court, the learned
judges holding that the words did not charge murder, for they did not
affirm the death of the cook, that being only an inference.
Tedium, n. Ennui,
the state or condition of one that is bored. Many fanciful derivations of
the word have been affirmed, but so high an authority as Father Jape says
that it comes from a very obvious source— the first words of the ancient
Latin hymn Te Deum Laudamus. In this apparently natural derivation
there is something that saddens.
Teetotaler, n. One
who abstains from strong drink, sometimes totally, sometimes tolerably
totally.
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