LONDON, SATURDAY, JANUARY 14, 1⟨888⟩
CONTENTS.—№ 107.
NOTES:—Toasts and Sentiments, 21— Mary Stuart, 22—Browne Family, 24—La Dame de Malehaut—S. Langley’s ‘Short Catechisme,’ 25—A. Rose—Anchor—Old English Foot-race—Dialect Words, 26.
QUERIES:—Toie: Duos le Cross-Clothes: Carliell Rowle— ‘Militia Clubs—Miss Fleming—Henry Farren—Strut’s Illustrations—Catholic Mission in Philadelphia—Hamilton—Écarté—Attack on Jersey, 27—Catherine Wheel Mark—Vicary—“A hair of the dog that bit you”—Sky Thursday—Sir F. Grant—Sir W. Grant—Cromnyomantia—Armada Pictures—English Fleet and Spanish Armada, 28—Births— Griming—Dryden’s Funeral—Westminster Abbey—Prints by Bunbury—“Dick upo’ sis”—Westons and Bayleys—“Laura Matilda”—Sir F. Shepherd—Jeremy Taylor, 29.
REPLIES:—Poets’ Corner, 29—Ramicus—Yorkshire Proverb—Major Denham, 30—“Candid friend”—Scotch Periodicals—Cousins—Agricultural Maxims—Hurrah—Peele Castle—Solution ef Riddle—Ivy Bridge—Australia, 31—Alwyne—Canoe—Demon ringing a Bell—Barony of Totness—Dr. Dee—Radman, 32—Macaulay’s Schoolboy—Wrinkle—Carlyle on Milton—Tell and the Apple—Comic Solar Myths—“Glorious first of June”—‘Biography of the Stage,’ 33—John King—Wordsworth—Cerdic, 34—St. Sophia—Car-Goose—Wesley and Eupolis—Scroope, 35—Conundrum—St. Nicholas—“Rare” Ben Jonson—Wezand—Russell—Londou M.P.s—Public Translator, 36—“Sapiens qui assiduus”—‘Treatise on the Communion’—“Playing at cherry-pit”—Annas—J. Ashton, 37.
NOTES ON BOOKS:—‘Dictionary of National Biography’—Frey’s ‘Sobriquets and Nicknames’—Sharp’s ‘Life of Shelley’—Pfeiffer’s ‘Women and Work.’
Notices to Correspondents, &c.
Notes.
Toasts and Sentiments.
The custom of drinking healths and toasts and sentiments has nearly become obsolete, and though Dean Ramsay strongly condemned the practice in his ‘Reminiscences,’ the custom had much to commend it. It was a pleasant means of warming up the company and breaking the ice of a conventional introduction at a dinner party, whilst at harmonic and social gatherings a song was neatly capped by an appropriate sentiment, which made the complement perfect. As Thomas Rhymer neatly puts it, in his song-book, which I have freely used, “When a person has sung, and another ungifted with vocal powers is called upon, he may contribute his mite to the convivial moment, and thus at once save useless pressing to perform a task for which, perhaps, nature and want of taste had rendered him totally unfit.” Again, toasts were loyal in sentiment, embodying the feast of reason and flow of soul in terse, epigrammatic language. The custom was a fine old crusted one, having the charm of antiquity, and owed its origin to the objectionable habit which the Danes had of stabbing or cutting the throats of the English while they were drinking their spiced ale. In order to guard against such a contingency, it became the practice for the individual to request some friends sitting near him to become his surety or pledge while he drank. Thus the toast or pledge became the means by which the flower safety was plucked from the nettle danger, and the system was, until a comparatively recent period, one of our cherished institutions. As a memento of a bygone custom, I send herewith a collection of these wise saws. The list is rather long, but they embody in one form or another the feelings of Englishmen, they were inspired by a kindly, manly spirit, and are free from the contrariness and dogmatism of those proverbs which Sancho Panza the clown loved, but Don Quixote the scholar and gentleman hated.
The Queen, may she reign long and live happily.
Prince Albert.
The Prince of Wales.
May the smuggler’s heart be free from pirate’s spirit.
May the laws soon cease that tempt honest men to become knaves.
The country whose laws are made for revenue, not for prohibition.
May hearts be joined whenever hands are united.
May music inspire joy, and unity allow no discord.
When Apollo inspires our lips may he also drive care from our hearts.
May truth animate Paddy’s heart when blarney stimulates his tongue.
A full tumbler to every good fellow, a good tumble to every bad one.
The rose, thistle, and shamrock, may they never be disunited.
May the poaching friar be whipped with his own cord.
May religion ever be divested of sensuality.
May hypocrisy be stripped whenever it puts on the cloak of religion.
Early hours and hearty health.
Olden times.
Old halls.
Old farms and old pastimes.
May we never abandon present happiness by looking back on past circumstances.
May the game laws be reformed or repealed.
May moonlight sporting cease by employment being given to the labourer.
The abolishment of game-keeping rather than increase of crime.
Liberty without lawlessness.
Old English sports, may they never be done away with.
Old English customs, may modern refinement never introduce habits less healthful.
May we enjoy life, but not, like poor Tom, in doing so hasten the approach of death.
May empty heads never disgrace our country’s cockade.
Oaken ships, and British hands to man them.
May hearts of oak man our navy, and plants of oak support it.
May the British tar never lose the oak’s firmness or debase his country’s character.
May our friendships be independent of time and be matured by character.
May our love be ever young, our charity ever vigorous.
The heart which is open to all worth and shut to all vice.
May we never unfurl our banner but for defence, and never furl it in dishonour.
May just wars be accompanied by good fortune, and aggressive valour be discomfited.
May the influence of the priest be dependent upon character, not custom.
