Part 6
"I don't know any greatest treat As sit him in a gay parterre, And sniff one up the perfume sweet Of every roses buttoning there.
It only want my charming miss Who make to blush the self red rose; Oh! I have envy of to kiss The end's tip of her splendid nose.
Oh! I have envy of to be What grass neath her pantoffle push, And too much happy seemeth me The margaret which her vestige crush.
But I will meet her nose at nose, And take occasion for the hairs, And indicate her all my woes, That she in fine agree my prayers.
THE ENVOY.
I don't know any greatest treat As sit him in a gay parterre, With Madame who is too more sweet Than every roses buttoning there."
Pidgin English is the name given to the dialect extensively used in the seaport towns of China as a means of communication between the natives and English and Americans, and is a very rude jargon in which English words are very strangely distorted. It is very limited, the Chinese learning Pidgin with only the acquirement of a few hundred words, the pronunciation and grammar of which have been modified to suit those of their own language. The word Pidgin itself is derived through a series of changes in the word _Business_. Early traders made constant use of this word, and the Chinaman contracted it first to _Busin_, and then through the change to _Pishin_ it at length assumed the form of _Pidgin_, still retaining its original meaning. This at once shows the difficulty which a Chinaman has in mastering the pronunciation of English words, and as business or commerce is the great bond of union between the Chinese and the foreign residents, it is not to be wondered at that this word should give name to the jargon formed in its service. The Chinese have great difficulty in using the letter _r_, pronouncing it almost always like _l_, as _loom_ for _room_, _cly_ for _cry_; and for the sake of euphony often add _ee_ or _lo_ to the end of words. _Galaw_ or _galow_ is a word of no meaning, being used as a kind of interjection; _chop, chop_, means quick, quick; _maskee_, don't mind; _chop b'long_, of a kind; _topside galow_, excelsior, or "hurrah for topside"; _chin chin_, good-bye; _welly culio_, very curious; _Joss-pidgin-man_, priest. With these few hints the reader may understand better the following version of "Excelsior," which originally appeared in _Harpers' Magazine_ in 1869,--the moral, however, belongs solely to the Chinese translator:
TOPSIDE-GALOW.
"That nightee teem he come chop chop One young man walkee, no can stop; Colo maskee, icee maskee; He got flag; chop b'long we_ll_y cu_l_io, see-- Topside-galow!
He too muchee so_ll_y; one piecee eye Looksee sharp--so fashion--alla same my: He talkee largee, talkee st_l_ong, Too muchee cu_l_io; alla same gong-- Topside-galow!
Inside any housee he can see light, Any piecee _l_oom got fire all _l_ight; He looksee plenty ice more high, Inside he mouf he plenty c_l_y-- Topside-galow!
'No can walkee!' olo man speakee he; 'Bimeby _l_ain come, no can see; Hab got water we_ll_y wide!' Maskee, my must go topside-- Topside-galow!
'Man-man,' one galo talkee he; 'What for you go topside look-see?' 'Nother teem,' he makee plenty c_l_y, Maskee, alla teem walkee plenty high-- Topside-galow!
'Take care that spilum t_l_ee, young man, Take care that icee!' he no man-man, That coolie chin-chin he 'Good-night;' He talkee, 'My can go all _l_ight'-- Topside-galow!
Joss-pidgin-man chop chop begin, Morning teem that Joss chin-chin, No see any man, he plenty fear, Cause some man talkee, he can hear-- Topside-galow!
Young man makee die; one largee dog see Too muchee bobbe_l_y, findee hee. Hand too muchee colo, inside can stop Alla same piecee flag, got cu_l_io chop-- Topside-galow!
MORAL.
You too muchee laugh! What for sing? I think so you no savey t'hat ting! Supposey you no b'long clever inside, More betta _you_ go walk topside! Topside-galow!"
In connection with these linguistic curiosities we take the following from an old number of _Harpers' Magazine_: "A practical parent objects to the silliness of our nursery rhymes, for the reason that the doggerel is rendered pernicious by the absence of a practical moral purpose, and as introducing infants to the realities of life through an utterly erroneous medium. They are taught to believe in a world peopled by Little Bo-peeps and Goosey, Goosey Ganders, instead of a world of New York Central, Erie, North-Western Preferred, &c. &c. It is proposed, therefore, to accommodate the teaching of the nursery to the requirements of the age, to invest children's rhymes with a moral purpose. Instead, for example, of the blind wonderment as to the nature of astronomical bodies inculcated in that feeble poem commencing 'Twinkle, twinkle, little star,' let the child be indoctrinated into the recent investigations of science, thus:
'Wrinkles, wrinkles, solar star, I obtain of what you are, When unto the noonday sky I the spectroscope apply; For the spectrum renders clear Gaps within your photosphere, Also sodium in the bar Which your rays yield, solar star.'
"Then, again, there is the gastronomic career of Little Jack Homer, which inculcates gluttony. It is practicable that this fictitious hero should familiarise the child with the principles of the _Delectus_:
'Studious John Homer, Of Latin no scorner, In the second declension did spy How nouns there are some Which ending in _um_ Do _not_ make their plural in _i_.'
"The episode of Jack and Jill is valueless as an educational medium. But it might be made to illustrate the arguments of a certain school of political economists:
'Jack and Jill Have studied Mill, And all that sage has taught, too. Now both promote Jill's claim to vote, As every good girl ought too.'
"Even the pleasures of life have their duties, and the child needs to be instructed in the polite relaxation of society. The unmeaning jingle of 'Hey diddle diddle,' might be invested with some utility of a social kind:
'I did an idyl on Joachim's fiddle, At a classical soiree in June, While jolly dogs laughed at themes from Spöhr, And longed for a popular tune.'
"And the importance of securing a good _parti_, of rejecting ineligible candidates, and of modifying flirtations by a strict regard to the future, might be impressed upon the female mind at an early age in the following moral:
'Little Miss Muffit Sat at a buffet Eating a _bonbon sucre_; A younger son spied her, And edged up beside her, But she properly frowned him away.'"
The preceding is all very well, but there are others which have been travestied and changed also--"Mary's little Lamb," for instance, will never be allowed to rest in its true Saxon garb, but is being constantly dressed in every tongue and dialect. But recently one has arisen bold enough to doubt the story altogether, and throw discredit on the song. Mr. Baring Gould, and iconoclasts like him, strive to show that William Tell and other ancient heroes never did live, but we never expected to doubt the existence of "Mary's little Lamb," yet a correspondent to a magazine sent not long ago what he says is the "true story of Mary and her lamb," hoping it will take the place of the garbled version hitherto received as authentic:
"Mary had a little lamb, Whose fleece was white as snow, And every place that Mary went, The lamb it would _not_ go.
So Mary took that little lamb, And beat it for a spell; The family had it fried next day, And it went very well."
We have still another way of it, in what may be termed an exaggerated synonymic adherence to the central idea of the ballad:
"Mary possessed a diminutive sheep, Whose external covering was as devoid of colour as the aqueous fluid which sometimes presents unsurmountable barriers on the Sierras. And everywhere Mary peregrinated This juvenile Southdown would be sure to get up and go right after her. It followed her to the alphabet dispensary one day, Which was contrary to the 243d subdivision of the 714th article of the constitution of that academy of erudition; It caused the adolescent disciples there assembled to titillate their risibles and indulge in interludes of sportive hilarity," &c. &c.
Linguistic renderings of many of these ancient songs may be found in the works of the Rev. Francis Mahoney (Father Prout), Dr. Maginn, &c., as well as in the "Arundines Cami" of the Rev. H. Drury. Of these here follow a few:
LITTLE BO-PEEP.
"Petit Bo-peep A perdu ses moutons Et ne sait pas que les a pris, O laisses les tranquilles Ill viendront en ville Et chacun sa que apres lui."
BA, BA, BLACK SHEEP.
"Ba, ba, mouton noir, Avez vous de laine? Oui Monsieur, non Monsieur, Trois sacs pleine. Un pour mon maitre, un pour ma dame, Pas un pour le jeune enfant que pleure dan le chemin."
Here is a song of Mahoney's, which is given complete:
"Quam pulchra sunt ova Cum alba et nova, In stabulo scite leguntur; Et a Margery bella, Quæ festiva puella! Pinguis lardi cum frustris coquuntur.
Ut belles in prato, Aprico et lato Sub sole tam lacte renident; Ova tosta in mensa Mappa bene extensa, Nittidissima lanse consident."
Which, put into English, is:
"Oh! 'tis eggs are a treat, When so white and so sweet From under the manger they're taken; And by fair Margery (Och! 'tis she's full of glee!) They are fried with fat rashers of bacon.
Just like daisies all spread, O'er a broad sunny mead, In the sunbeams so gaudily shining, Are fried eggs, when displayed On a dish, when we've laid The cloth, and are thinking of dining!"
The last of these we give is from the "Arundines Cami":
TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAR.
"Mica, mica, parva Stella, Miror, quænam sis tam bella! Splendens eminus in illo Alba velut gemma, coelo."
This familiar nursery rhyme has also been "revised" by a committee of eminent preceptors and scholars, with this result:
"Shine with irregular, intermitted light, sparkle at intervals, diminutive, luminous, heavenly body. How I conjecture, with surprise, not unmixed with uncertainty, what you are, Located, apparently, at such a remote distance from, and at a height so vastly superior to this earth, the planet we inhabit, Similar in general appearance and refractory powers to the precious primitive octahedron crystal of pure carbon, set in the aërial region surrounding the earth."
Dr. Lang, in his book on "Queensland," &c., is wroth against the colonists for the system of nomenclature they have pursued, in so far as introducing such names as Deptford, Codrington, Greenwich, and so on. Conceding that there may be some confusion by the duplication in this way of names from the old country, they are surely better than the jaw-breaking native names which are strung together in the following lines:
"I like the native names, as Parramatta, And Illawarra and Wooloomooloo, Tongabbee, Mittagong, and Coolingatta, Euranania, Jackwa, Bulkomatta, Nandowra, Tumbwumba, Woogaroo; The Wollondilly and the Wingycarribbeo, The Warragumby, Dalby, and Bungarribbe."
The following _jeu d'esprit_, in which many of the absurd and unpronounceable names of American towns and villages are happily hit off, is from the _Orpheus C. Kerr_ (office-seeker) _Papers_, by R. H. Newell, a work containing many of those humorous, semi-political effusions, which were so common in the United States during the Civil War:
THE AMERICAN TRAVELLER.
"To Lake Aghmoogenegamook, All in the State of Maine, A man from Wittequergaugaum came One evening in the rain.
'I am a traveller,' said he, 'Just started on a tour, And go to Nomjamskillicook To-morrow morn at four.'
He took a tavern-bed that night, And with the morrow's sun, By way of Sekledobskus went, With carpet-bag and gun.
A week passed on; and next we find Our native tourist come To that sequester'd village called Genasagarnagum.
From thence he went to Absequoit, And there--quite tired of Maine-- He sought the mountains of Vermont, Upon a railroad train.
Dog Hollow, in the Green Mount State, Was his first stopping-place, And then Skunk's Misery displayed Its sweetness and its grace.
By easy stages then he went To visit Devil's Den; And Scrabble Hollow, by the way, Did come within his ken.
Then _via_ Nine Holes and Goose Green, He travelled through the State, And to Virginia, finally, Was guided by his fate.
Within the Old Dominion's bounds, He wandered up and down; To-day at Buzzard Roost ensconced, To-morrow at Hell Town.
At Pole Cat, too, he spent a week, Till friends from Bull Ring came, And made him spend the day with them In hunting forest game.
Then, with his carpet-bag in hand, To Dog Town next he went; Though stopping at Free Negro Town, Where half a day he spent.
From thence, into Negationburg His route of travel lay, Which having gained, he left the State And took a southward way.
North Carolina's friendly soil He trod at fall of night, And, on a bed of softest down, He slept at Hell's Delight.
Morn found him on the road again, To Lousy Level bound; At Bull's Tail, and Lick Lizard too, Good provender he found.
The country all about Pinch Gut So beautiful did seem, That the beholder thought it like A picture in a dream.
But the plantations near Burnt Coat Were even finer still, And made the wond'ring tourist feel A soft delicious thrill.
At Tear Shirt, too, the scenery Most charming did appear, With Snatch It in the distance far, And Purgatory near.
But spite of all these pleasant scenes, The tourist stoutly swore That home is brightest after all, And travel is a bore.
So back he went to Maine, straightway A little wife he took; And now is making nutmegs at Moosehicmagunticook."
A RHYME FOR MUSICIANS.
"Haendel, Bendel, Mendelssohn, Brendel, Wendel, Jadasshon, Muller, Hiller, Heller, Franz, Blothow, Flotow, Burto, Gantz.
Meyer, Geyer, Meyerbeer, Heyer, Weyer, Beyer, Beer, Lichner, Lachnar, Schachner, Dietz, Hill, Will, Bruell, Grill Drill, Reiss, Reitz.
Hansen, Jansen, Jensen, Kiehl, Siade, Gade, Laade, Stiehl, Naumann, Riemann, Diener, Wurst, Niemann, Kiemann, Diener Wurst.
Kochler, Dochler, Rubenstein, Himmel, Hummel, Rosenkyn, Lauer, Bauer, Kleincke, Homberg, Plomberg, Reinecke." --_E. Lemke._
SURNAMES.
BY JAMES SMITH, ONE OF THE AUTHORS OF "REJECTED ADDRESSES."
"Men once were surnamed for their shape or estate (You all may from history learn it), There was Louis the Bulky, and Henry the Great, John Lackland, and Peter the Hermit. But now, when the doorplates of misters and dames Are read, each so constantly varies; From the owner's trade, figure, and calling, surnames Seem given by the rule of contraries.
Mr. Wise is a dunce, Mr. King is a whig, Mr. Coffin's uncommonly sprightly, And huge Mr. Little broke down in a gig, While driving fat Mrs. Golightly. At Bath, where the feeble go more than the stout, (A conduct well worthy of Nero,) Over poor Mr. Lightfoot, confined with the gout, Mr. Heavyside danced a bolero.
Miss Joy, wretched maid, when she chose Mr. Love, Found nothing but sorrow await her; She now holds in wedlock, as true as a dove, That fondest of mates, Mr. Hayter. Mr. Oldcastle dwells in a modern-built hut; Miss Sage is of madcaps the archest; Of all the queer bachelors Cupid e'er cut, Old Mr. Younghusband's the starchest.
Mr. Child, in a passion, knock'd down Mr. Rock; Mr. Stone like an aspen-leaf shivers; Miss Pool used to dance, but she stands like a stock Ever since she became Mrs. Rivers. Mr. Swift hobbles onward, no mortal knows how, He moves as though cords had entwined him; Mr. Metcalf ran off upon meeting a cow, With pale Mr. Turnbull behind him.
Mr. Barker's as mute as a fish in the sea, Mr. Miles never moves on a journey, Mr. Gotobed sits up till half after three, Mr. Makepeace was bred an attorney. Mr. Gardener can't tell a flower from a root, Mr. Wild with timidity draws back; Mr. Ryder performs all his journeys on foot, Mr. Foot all his journeys on horseback.
Mr. Penny, whose father was rolling in wealth, Consumed all the fortune his dad won; Large Mr. Le Fever's the picture of health; Mr. Goodenough is but a bad one. Mr. Cruikshank stept into three thousand a year By showing his leg to an heiress: Now I hope you'll acknowledge I've made it quite clear Surnames ever go by contraries."
The next verses are somewhat similar, and are taken from an old number of the _European Magazine_:
COINCIDENCES AND CONTRARIETIES.
"Tis curious to find, in this overgrown town, While through its long streets we are dodging, That many a man is in trade settled down, Whose name don't agree with his lodging! For instance, Jack Munday in Friday Street dwells, Mr. Pitt in Fox Court is residing; Mr. White in Black's Buildings green-grocery sells, While East in West Square is abiding!
Mr. Lamb in Red Lion Street perks up his head, To Lamb's, Conduit Street, Lyon goes courting; Mr. Boxer at Battle Bridge hires a bed, While Moon is in Sun Street disporting. Bill Brown up to Green Street to live now is gone, In Stanhope mews Dennet keeps horses; Doctor Low lives in High Street, Saint Mary-le-Bone, In Brown Street one Johnny White's door sees.
But still much more curious it is, when the streets Accord with the names of their tenants; And yet with such curious accordance one meets, In taking a town-tour like Pennant's. For instance, in Crown Street George King you may note, To Booth, in Mayfair, you go shopping; And Porter, of Brewer Street, goes in a boat To Waters, of River Street, Wapping!
Mr. Sparrow in Bird Street has feathered his nest, Mr. Archer in Bow Street wooes Sally: Mr. Windham in Air Street gets zephyr'd to rest, Mr. Dancer resides in Ball Alley. Mr. Fisher on Finsbury fixes his views, Mrs. Foote in Shoe Lane works at carding; Mr. Hawke has a residence close to the Mews, And Winter puts up at Spring Gardens!
In Orange Street, Lemon vends porter and ale, In Hart Street, Jack Deer keeps a stable; In Hill Street located you'll find Mr. Dale, In Blue Anchor Row, Mr. Cable. In Knight-Rider Street, you've both Walker and Day, In Castle Street, Champion and Spearman; In Blackman Street, Lillywhite makes a display, In Cheapside lives sweet Mrs. Dearman.
In Paradise Row, Mr. Adam sells figs, Eve, in Apple Tree Yard, rooms has taken; Mr. Coltman, in Foley Street, fits you with wigs, In Hog Lane you call upon Bacon. Old Homer in Greek Street sells barrels and staves, While Pope, in Cross Lane, is a baker; In Liquorpond Street, Mr. Drinkwater shaves, In Cow Lane lives A. Veal, undertaker."
THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.
"A pretty deer is dear to me, A hare with downy hair; I love a hart with all my heart, But barely bear a bear. 'Tis plain that no one takes a plane To pare a pair of pears; A rake, though, often takes a rake To tear away the tares. All rays raise thyme, time razes all; And, through the whole, hole wears. A writ, in writing 'right,' may write It 'wright,' and still be wrong-- For 'wright' and 'rite' are neither 'right,' And don't to 'write' belong. Beer often brings a bier to man, Coughing a coffin brings; And too much ale will make us ail, As well as other things. The person lies who says he lies When he is but reclining; And when consumptive folks decline, They all decline declining. A quail don't quail before a storm-- A bough will bow before it; We cannot rein the rain at all-- No earthly powers reign o'er it; The dyer dyes awhile, then dies; To dye he's always trying, Until upon his dying bed He thinks no more of dyeing. A son of Mars mars many a sun; All deys must have their days, And every knight should pray each night To Him who weighs his ways. 'Tis meet that man should mete out meat To feed misfortune's son; The fair should fare on love alone, Else one cannot be won. A lass, alas! is something false; Of faults a maid is made; Her waist is but a barren waste-- Though stayed she is not staid. The springs spring forth in spring, and shoots Shoot forward one and all; Though summer kills the flowers, it leaves The leaves to fall in fall. I would a story here commence, But you might find it stale; So let's suppose that we have reached The tail end of our tale."
SPELLING REFORM.
"With tragic air the love-lorn heir Once chased the chaste Louise; She quickly guessed her guest was there To please her with his pleas.
Now at her side he kneeling sighed, His sighs of woeful size; 'Oh, hear me here, for lo, most low I rise before your eyes.
'This soul is sole thine own, Louise-- 'Twill never wean, I ween, The love that I for aye shall feel, Though mean may be its mien!'
'You know I cannot tell you no,' The maid made answer true; 'I love you aught, as sure I ought-- To you 'tis due I do!'
'Since you are won, Oh fairest one, The marriage rite is right-- The chapel aisle I'll lead you up This night,' exclaimed the knight." --_Yonkers' Gazette, U.S._
OWED TO MY CREDITORS.
"In vain I lament what is past, And pity their woe-begone looks, Though they grin at the credit they gave, I know I am in their best books. To my _tailor_ my _breaches_ of faith, On my conscience now but lightly sit, For such lengths in his _measures_ he's gone, He has given me many a _fit_. My bootmaker, finding at _last_ That my _soul_ was too stubborn to suit, _Waxed_ wroth when he found he had got Anything but the _length of my foot_. My hatmaker cunningly _felt_ He'd seen many like me before, So _brimful_ of insolence, vowed On credit he'd crown me no more. My baker was _crusty_ and _burnt_, When he found himself quite _overdone_ By a _fancy-bred_ chap like myself,-- Ay, as _cross_ as a _Good Friday's bun_. Next, my laundress, who washed pretty clean, In behaviour was dirty and bad; For into hot water she popped All the shirts and the dickies I had. Then my butcher, who'd little at _stake_, Most surlily opened his _chops_, And swore my affairs out of _joint_, So on to my carcase he pops. In my lodgings exceedingly high, Though low in the rent to be sure, Without warning my landlady seized, Took my things and the key of the door. Thus cruelly used by the world, In the Bench I can smile at its hate; For a time I must alter my _style_, For I cannot get out of the _gate_."
AN ORIGINAL LOVE STORY.
"He struggled to kiss her. She struggled the same To prevent him, so bold and undaunted; But, as smitten by lightning, he heard her exclaim, 'Avaunt, sir!' and off he avaunted.
But when he returned, with the fiendishest laugh, Showing clearly that he was affronted, And threatened by main force to carry her off, She cried 'Don't!' and the poor fellow donted.
When he meekly approached, and sat down at her feet, Praying aloud, as before he had ranted, That she would forgive him and try to be sweet, And said, 'Can't you!' the dear girl recanted.
Then softly he whispered, 'How could you do so? I certainly thought I was jilted; But come thou with me, to the parson we'll go; Say, wilt thou, my dear?' and she wilted."
PREVALENT POETRY.
"A wandering tribe, called the Siouxs, Wear moccasins, having no shiouxs. They are made of buckskin, With the fleshy side in, Embroidered with beads of bright hyiouxs.