FRENCH PAMPHLETEER. One Catherinot all his life was printing merely as harmless amusements. It is my partridge, as with St. John the Evangelist; my cat, as with Pope St. Gregory; my little dog, as with St. Dominick; my lamb, as with St. Francis; my great black mastiff, as with Cornelius Agrippa; and my tame hare, as with Justus Lipsius." Catherinot could never get a printer, and was rather compelled to study economy in his two hundred quartos of four or eight pages; his paper was of inferior quality, and when he could not get his dissertations into his prescribed number of pages, he used to promise the end at another time, which did not always happen. But his greatest anxiety was to publish and spread his works; in despair he adopted an odd expedient. Whenever Monsieur Catherinot came to Paris, he used to haunt the quaies where books are sold, and while he appeared to be looking over them, he adroitly slided one of his own dissertations among these old books. lication early, and continued it to his last He began this mode of pubdays. He died with a perfect conviction that he had secured his immortality; and in this manner he disposed of more than one edition of his unsaleable works.* CONIST. For the Table Book. 1. When bless'd with Fanny's rosy smiles, 2. I thought her deck'd with every grace, Fresh as new carrot was her face, a countless number of feuilles volantes in LOVE'S PROGRESS OF A TOBAChistory and on antiquities; each consisting of about three or four leaves in quarto: Lenglet du Fresnoy calls him "Grand auteur des petits livres." This gentleman liked to live among antiquaries and historians; but with a crooked head-piece, stuck with whims, and hard with knotty combinations, all overloaded with prodigious erudition, he could not ease it at a less rate than by an occasional dissertation of three or four quarto pages. He appears to have published about two hundred pieces of this sort, much sought after by the curious for their rarity: Brunet complains he could never discover a complete collection. But Catherinot may escape "the pains and penalties of our voluminous writers, for De Bure thinks he generously printed them to distribute among his friends. Such endless writers, provided they do not print themselves into an alms-house, may be allowed to print themselves out; and we would accept the apology which Monsieur Catherinot has framed for himself, which is preserved in Beyeri Memoriæ Librorum Rariorum. "I must be allowed my freedom in my studies, for I substitute my writings for a game at the tennis-court, or a olub at the tavern; I never counted among my honours these opuscula of mine, but Besides a person fair to view She had a thousand pounds; 4. Our courtship oft consisted in Slight taps and gentle knocks ; 5. Howe'er, one morning, in a rage, • D'Israeli, In vain I tried the cause to smoke, 7. But soon a mutual friend contriv'd Our quarrel up to botch; Fanny confess'd her temper warm'Twas natural-she was Scotch. 8. We married-snugly in my shop And all the neighbourhood declare, SAM SAM'S SON. THE LORD CHANCELLOR, The title of chancellor originated with the Romans. It was adopted by the church, and became a half ecclesiastic, and half lay office. The chancel.or was intrusted with all public instruments which were authenticated; and when seals came into use, the custody of them was confided to that officer. The mere delivery of the king's great seal, or the taking it away, is all the ceremony that is used in creating or unmaking a chancellor, the officer of the greatest weight and power subsisting in the kingdom. The first chancellor in England was appointed in the reign of William the Conqueror, and with only one exception, it was enjoyed by ecclesiastics until the time of Elizabeth, when such officers were called keepers of the great seal. From the time of sir Thomas More's appointment, which took place in the reign of Henry VIII., there is only one instance of a clergyman having been elevated to the office-namely, Dr. Williams, dean of Westminster, in the time of James I.-The chancellor is a privy counsellor by office, and speaker of the house of lords by prescription. To him belongs the appointment of all justices of the peace throughout the kingdom. When the chancellor was an ecclesiastic, he became keeper of the king's conscience, and remained so. He is also visitor of all hospitals and colleges of the king's foundation. He is patron of all livings under twenty pounds per annum in the king's book. He is the general guardian of all infants, idiots, and lunatics, and has the superintendence of all charitable institutions in the kingdom. He takes precedent of every temporal lord, except the royal family, and of all others, except the archbishop of Canterbury. It is declared treason by statute of Edward III. to slay the chancellor in his place, and doing his office. In the year 1689, there were commissioners appointed for executing the office of lord chancellor. Anonymiana. THE GREAT LORD CHANCELLor. Sir Thomas More, when at the bar, is said to have undertaken only such causes as appeared just to his conscience, and never to have accepted a fee from a widow, orphan, or poor person; yet he acquired, by his practice the considerable sum, in those days, of four hundred pounds per annum. When he rose to the height of his profession, his diligence was so great, that one day being in court he called for the next cause, on which it was answered, that there were no more suits in chancery. This made a punning bard of that time thus express himself: When More some years had chancellor been, The same shall never more be seen, CHANCERY. Cancella are lattice-work, by which the chancels being formerly parted from the body of the church, they took their names from thence. Hence, too, the court of chancery and the lord chancellor borrowed their names, that court being enclosed with open work of that kind. And, so, to cancel a writing is to cross it out with the pen, which naturally makes something like the figure of a lattice. DILIGENCE AND DELIGHT. It is a common observation, that unless a man takes a delight in a thing, he will never pursue it with pleasure or assiduity. Diligentia, diligence, is from diligo, to love. PAMPHLET, PALM, PALMISTRY. Pamphlet. — This word is ancient, see Lilye's Euphnes, p. 5; Lambarde's Perambulation of Kent, p. 188; Hearne's Cur. Disc. p. 130; Hall's Chronicle, in Edward V. f. 2; Richard III. f. 32; Skelton, p. 47; Caxton's Preface to his Virgil, where it is written paunflethis; Oldys's British Librarian, p. 128; Nash, p. 3, 64; and also his preface, wherein he has the phrase, "to pamphlet on a person," and pampheleter, p. 30. The French have not the word pamphlet, and yet it seems to be of French extraction, and no other than palm-feuillet, a leaf to be held in the hand, a book being a thing of a greater weight. So the French call it now feuille volante, retaining one part of the compound. Palm is the old French word for hand, from whence we have palmistry, the palm of the hand, a palm or span, and to palm a card, and from thence the metaphor of palming any thing upon a person. CAMBRIDGE WIT. A gentleman of St. John's College, Cambridge, having a clubbed foot, which occasioned him to wear a shoe upon it of a particular make, and with a high heel, one of the college wits called him Bildad the shuhite. GRADUAL REFORM. When lord Muskerry sailed to Newfoundland, George Rooke went with him a volunteer: George was greatly addicted to lying; and my lord, being very sensible of it, and very familiar with George, said to THE CHILD OF MIGHT. For the Table Book. War was abroad, and the fleeting gale Brought the summoning sound of the clarion's blast- On the valour and youth that went forth to the tomb- Banner and spear gleam'd in the sun And the laugh was loud as the day were won : Woe to thee, Child of Pride and Might. 'Tis the hour of battle, the hosts are met, - J. J. K. This is another of the criers of a hundred years ago, and, it seems, he cried "NewRiver water." The cry is scarce, though scarcely extinct, in the environs of London. I well remember the old prejudices of oldfashioned people in favour of water brought to the door, and their sympathy with the complaints of the water-bearer. "Fresh and fair new River-water! none of your pipe sludge!" vociferated the water-bearer. "Ah dear!" cried his customers," Ah dear! Well, what'll the world come to!-they wo'n't let poor people live at all by and by-here they're breaking up the ground, and we shall be all under water some day or other with their goings on-I'll stick to the carrier as long as he has a pail-full and I've a penny, and when we haven't we must all go to the workhouse together." This was the talk and the reasoning of many honest people within my recollection, who preferred taxing themselves to the daily payment of a penny and often twopence to VOL. I.-24. the water-carrier, in preference to having "Company's-water" at eighteen shillings per annum. Persons of this order of mind were neither political economists nor domestic economists: they were, for the most part, simple and kind-hearted souls, who illustrated the ancient saying, that "the destruction of the poor is their poverty" they have perished for "lack of knowledge." The governing principle of Napoleon was, that "every thing must be done for the people, and nothing by them:" the ruling practice of the British people is to do every thing for themselves; and by the maintenance of this good old custom they have preserved individual freedom, and attained to national greatness. All our beneficial national works have originated with ourselves-our roads, our bridges, our canals, our water-companies, have all been constructed by our own enterprise, and in the order of our wants. Garrick Plays. No. XXI. [From Sir Richard Fanshaw's Translation of "Querer Por Solo Querer"-"To love for love's sake""-a Romantic Drama, written in Spanish by Mendoza: 1649.] Felisbravo, Prince of Persia, from a Picture sent him of the brave Amazonian Queen of Tartary, Zelidaura, becoming enamoured, sets out for that realm; in his way thither disenchants a Queen of Araby; but first, overcome by fatigue, falls asleep in the Enchanted Grove, where Zelidaura herself coming by, steals the Picture from him. The passion of the Romance arises from his remorse at being taken so negli gent; and her disdain that he should sleep, having the company of her Picture. here plays upon him, who does not yet know her, in the disguise of a Rustic. Fel. What a spanking Labradora! She Zel. That picture now's well worth your keeping. For why? 'tis an original. Fel. Is this Shepherdess a Witch? Or saw the sleeping treason, which I committed against Love Erst, in the Enchanted Grove? Me hast thou ever seen before? Zel. Seen? aye, and know thee for a man Fel. Still in riddles ? Zel. Now he sees: This pinching wakes him by degrees. Zel. Of Parnass Green. Fel. Sleep I indeed, or am I mad? Zel. None serve thee but the Enchanted Queen? Sufficeth me an humble strain: Zel. Sir Gallant, not so fast. Zel. See me you shall: But touch not fruit you must not taste. What says it, now the leaf doth fall? The tall and slender trunk no less divine, (He begins to know her.) This should be that so famous Queen Zel. What stares the man at? A Picture-I once mine did call- Zel. Fall'n again asleep you are: Nor are pictured, nor use glasses. Who skip their rank, themselves and betters wrong: To our Dames, god bless 'em, such quaint things belong. Here a tiny brook alone, Which fringed with borrow'd flowers (he has Gold and silver enough on his own) Fel. Art thou a Shepherdess ? On a mountain, called THERE, Fel. Wear'st thou ever heretofore Lady's clothes? Zel. I Lady's gear ?— Yes-what a treacherous poll have I! In a Country Comedy I once enacted a main part; |