to consider himself outraged. We cannot keep the same mood day after
day. I am liable, some day, to want to print my opinion on
jurisprudence, or Homeric poetry, or international law, and I shall do
it. It will be of small consequence to me whether the reader survive or
not. I shall never go straining after jokes when in a cheerless mood, so
long as the unhackneyed subject of international law is open to me.
I will leave all that straining to people who edit professedly and
inexorably “humorous” departments and publications.
3. I have chosen the general title of MEMORANDA for this department
because it is plain and simple, and makes no fraudulent promises. I can
print under it statistics, hotel arrivals, or anything that comes handy,
without violating faith with the reader.
4. Puns cannot be allowed a place in this department. Inoffensive
ignorance, benignant stupidity, and unostentatious imbecility will always
be welcomed and cheerfully accorded a corner, and even the feeblest
humour will be admitted, when we can do no better; but no circumstances,
however dismal, will ever be considered a sufficient excuse for the
admission of that last–and saddest evidence of intellectual poverty, the
Pun.
ABOUT SMELLS
In a recent issue of the “Independent,” the Rev. T. De Witt Talmage, of
Brooklyn, has the following utterance on the subject of “Smells”:
I have a good Christian friend who, if he sat in the front pew in
church, and a working man should enter the door at the other end,
would smell him instantly. My friend is not to blame for the
sensitiveness of his nose, any more than you would flog a pointer
for being keener on the scent than a stupid watch dog. The fact is,
if you, had all the churches free, by reason of the mixing up of the
common people with the uncommon, you would keep one-half of
Christendom sick at their stomach. If you are going to kill the
church thus with bad smells, I will have nothing to do with this
work of evangelization.
We have reason to believe that there will be labouring men in heaven; and
also a number of negroes, and Esquimaux, and Terra del Fuegans, and
Arabs, and a few Indians, and possibly even some Spaniards and
Portuguese. All things are possible with God. We shall have all these
sorts of people in heaven; but, alas! in getting them we shall lose the
society of Dr. Talmage. Which is to say, we shall lose the company of
one who could give more real “tone” to celestial society than any other
contribution Brooklyn could furnish. And what would eternal happiness be
without the Doctor? Blissful, unquestionably–we know that well enough
but would it be ‘distingue,’ would it be ‘recherche’ without him? St.
Matthew without stockings or sandals; St. Jerome bare headed, and with a
coarse brown blanket robe dragging the ground; St. Sebastian with
scarcely any raiment at all–these we should see, and should enjoy seeing
them; but would we not miss a spike-tailed coat and kids, and turn away
regretfully, and say to parties from the Orient: “These are well enough,
but you ought to see Talmage of Brooklyn.” I fear me that in the better
world we shall not even have Dr. Talmage’s “good Christian friend.”
For if he were sitting under the glory of the Throne, and the keeper of
the keys admitted a Benjamin Franklin or other labouring man, that
“friend,” with his fine natural powers infinitely augmented by
emancipation from hampering flesh, would detect him with a single sniff,
and immediately take his hat and ask to be excused.
To all outward seeming, the Rev. T. De Witt Talmage is of the same
material as that used in the construction of his early predecessors in
the ministry; and yet one feels that there must be a difference somewhere
between him and the Saviour’s first disciples. It may be because here,
in the nineteenth century, Dr. T. has had advantages which Paul and
Peter and the others could not and did not have. There was a lack of
polish about them, and a looseness of etiquette, and a want of
exclusiveness, which one cannot help noticing. They healed the very