Notes and Queries, Number 208, October 22, 1853. Various
Читать онлайн книгу.
and the Bible.—Has it ever been noticed that the following passage from the Second Part of Henry IV., Act I. Sc. 3., is taken from the fourteenth chapter of St. Luke's Gospel?
"What do we then, but draw anew the model
In fewer offices; or, at least, desist
To build at all? Much more, in this great work,
(Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down,
And set another up) should we survey
The plot, the situation, and the model;
Consult upon a sure foundation,
Question surveyors, know our own estate,
How able such a work to undergo.
A careful leader sums what force he brings
To weigh against his opposite; or else
We fortify on paper, and in figures,
Using the names of men, instead of men:
Like one that draws the model of a house
Beyond his power to build it."
The passage in St. Luke is as follows (xiv. 28-31.):
"For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it?
"Lest haply, after he hath laid the foundation, and is not able to finish it, all that behold it begin to mock him,
"Saying, This man began to build, and was not able to finish.
"Or what king, going to make war against another king, sitteth not down first, and consulteth whether he be able with ten thousand to meet him that cometh against him with twenty thousand?"
I give the passage as altered by Mr. Collier's Emendator, because I think the line added by him,
"A careful leader sums what force he brings,"
is strongly corroborated by the Scripture text.
Minor Notes
Judicial Families.—In vol. v. p. 206. (new edition) of Lord Mahon's History of England, we find the following passage:
"Lord Chancellor Camden was the younger son of Chief Justice Pratt,—a case of rare succession in the annals of the law, and not easily matched, unless by their own cotemporaries, Lord Hardwicke and Charles Yorke."
The following case, I think, is equally, if not more, remarkable:—
The Right Hon. Thomas Berry Cusack-Smith, brother of the present Sir Michael Cusack-Smith, Bart., is Master of the Rolls in Ireland, having been appointed to that high office in January, 1846. His father, Sir William Cusack-Smith, second baronet, was for many years Baron of the Court of Exchequer in Ireland. And his grandfather, the Right Hon. Sir Michael Smith, first baronet, was, like his grandson at the present day, Master of the Rolls in Ireland.
Is not this "a case of rare succession in the annals of the law, and not easily matched?"
Derivation of "Topsy Turvy."—When things are in confusion they are generally said to be turned "topsy turvy." The expression is derived from a way in which turf for fuel is placed to dry on its being cut. The surface of the ground is pared off with the heath growing on it, and the heath is turned downward, and left some days in that state that the earth may get dry before it is carried away. It means then top-side-turf-way.
Dictionaries and Encyclopædias.—Allow me to offer a suggestion to the publishers and compilers of dictionaries; first as to dictionaries of the language. A large class refer to these only to learn the meaning of words not familiar to them, but which may occur in reading. If the dictionaries are framed on the principle of displaying only the classical language of England, it is ten to one they will not supply the desired information. Let there be, besides classical dictionaries, glossaries which will exclude no word whatever on account of rarity, vulgarity, or technicality, but which may very well exclude those which are most familiar. As to encyclopædias, their value is chiefly as supplements to the library; but surely no one studies anatomy, or the differential calculus, or architecture, in them, however good the treatises may be. I want a dictionary of miscellaneous subjects, such as find place more easily in an encyclopædia than anywhere else; but why must I also purchase treatises on the higher mathematics, on navigation, on practical engineering, and the like, some of which I already may possess, others not want, and none of which are a bit the more convenient because arranged in alphabetical order in great volumes. Besides, they cannot be conveniently replaced by improved editions.
"Mary, weep no more for me."—There is a well-known ballad of this name, said to have been written by a Scotchman named "Low." The first verse runs thus:
"The moon had climbed the highest hill,
Which rises o'er the source of Dee,
And from the eastern summit sped
Its silver light on tower and tree."
I find, however, amongst my papers, a fragment of a version of this same ballad, of, I assume, earlier antiquity, which so surpasses Low's ballad that the author has little to thank him for his interference. The first verse of what I take to be the original poem stands thus:
"The moon had climbed the highest hill,
Where eagles big2 aboon the Dee,
And like the looks of a lovely dame,
Brought joy to every body's ee."
No poetical reader will require his attention to be directed to the immeasurable superiority of this glorious verse: the high poetic animation, the eagles' visits, the lovely looks of female beauty, the exhilarating gladness and joy affecting the beholder, all manifest the genius of the master bard. I shall receive it as a favour if any of your correspondents will furnish a complete copy of the original poem, and contrast it with what "Low" fancied his "improvements."
Epitaph at Wood Ditton.—You have recently appropriated a small space in your "medium of intercommunication" to the subject of epitaphs. I can furnish you with one which I have been accustomed to regard as a "grand climacterical absurdity." About thirty years ago, when making a short summer ramble, I entered the churchyard of Wood Ditton, near Newmarket, and my attention was attracted by a headstone, having inlaid into its upper part a piece of iron, measuring about ten inches by six, and hollowed out into the shape of a dish. I inquired of a cottager residing on the spot what the thing meant? I was informed that the party whose ashes the grave covered was a man who, during a long life, had a strange taste for sopping a slice of bread in a dripping-pan (a pan over which meat has been roasted), and would relinquish for this all kinds of dishes, sweet or savoury; that in his will he left a request that a dripping-pan should be fixed in his gravestone; that he wrote his own epitaph, an exact copy of which I herewith give you, and which he requested to be engraved on the stone:
"Here lies my corpse, who was the man
That loved a sop in the dripping-pan;
But now believe me I am dead,—
See here the pan stands at my head.
Still for sops till the last I cried,
But could not eat, and so I died.
My neighbours they perhaps will laugh,
When they read my epitaph."
Cambridge.
Pictorial Pun.—In the village of Warbleton, in Sussex, there is an old public-house, which has for its sign a War Bill in a tun of beer, in reference of course to the name of the place. It has, however, the double meaning, of "Axe for Beer."
Build.