No More Learning

Och hon!
if it wasn't his spalpeeny little paw that I had hould of in my own--why
thin--thin it wasn't--that's all.

And maybe it wasn't mesilf that jist died then outright wid the laffin',
to behold the little chap when he found out that it wasn't the widdy at
all at all that he had had hould of all the time, but only Sir Pathrick
O'Grandison. The ould divil himself niver behild sich a long face as he
pet an! As for Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, it wasn't for
the likes of his riverence to be afther the minding of a thrifle of a
mistake. Ye may jist say, though (for it's God's thruth), that afore I
left hould of the flipper of the spalpeen (which was not till afther her
leddyship's futman had kicked us both down the stairs), I giv'd it such a
nate little broth of a squaze as made it all up into raspberry jam.

"Woully wou," says he, "pully wou," says he--"Cot tam! "

And that's jist the thruth of the rason why he wears his lift hand in a
sling.



BON-BON.

Quand un bon vin meuble mon estomac,
Je suis plus savant que Balzac-- Plus sage que Pibrac;
Mon brass seul faisant l'attaque
De la nation Coseaque,
La mettroit au sac;
De Charon je passerois le lac,
En dormant dans son bac;
J'irois au fier Eac,
Sans que mon c? ur fit tic ni tac,
Presenter du tabac.
French Vaudeville

THAT Pierre Bon-Bon was a _restaurateur_ of uncommon qualifications,
no man who, during the reign of----, frequented the little Cafe in the
cul-de-sac Le Febvre at Rouen, will, I imagine, feel himself at liberty
to dispute. That Pierre Bon-Bon was, in an equal degree, skilled in
the philosophy of that period is, I presume, still more especially
undeniable. His _pates a la fois_ were beyond doubt immaculate; but
what pen can do justice to his essays _sur la Nature_--his thoughts sur
_l'Ame_--his observations _sur l'Esprit? _ If his _omelettes_--if his
_fricandeaux_ were inestimable, what _litterateur_ of that day would not
have given twice as much for an "_Idee de Bon-Bon_" as for all the trash
of "_Idees_" of all the rest of the _savants?
_ Bon-Bon had ransacked
libraries which no other man had ransacked--had more than any other
would have entertained a notion of reading--had understood more than
any other would have conceived the possibility of understanding; and
although, while he flourished, there were not wanting some authors at
Rouen to assert "that his _dicta_ evinced neither the purity of the
Academy, nor the depth of the Lyceum"--although, mark me, his doctrines
were by no means very generally comprehended, still it did not follow
that they were difficult of comprehension. It was, I think, on account
of their self-evidency that many persons were led to consider them
abstruse. It is to Bon-Bon--but let this go no farther--it is to Bon-Bon
that Kant himself is mainly indebted for his metaphysics. The former was
indeed not a Platonist, nor strictly speaking an Aristotelian--nor did
he, like the modern Leibnitz, waste those precious hours which might
be employed in the invention of a _fricasee_ or, _facili gradu_, the
analysis of a sensation, in frivolous attempts at reconciling the
obstinate oils and waters of ethical discussion. Not at all. Bon-Bon was
Ionic--Bon-Bon was equally Italic. He reasoned _a priori_--He reasoned
also _a posteriori_. His ideas were innate--or otherwise. He believed in
George of Trebizonde--He believed in Bossarion [Bessarion]. Bon-Bon was
emphatically a--Bon-Bonist.

I have spoken of the philosopher in his capacity of _restaurateur_. I
would not, however, have any friend of mine imagine that, in fulfilling
his hereditary duties in that line, our hero wanted a proper estimation
of their dignity and importance. Far from it. It was impossible to say
in which branch of his profession he took the greater pride. In his
opinion the powers of the intellect held intimate connection with the
capabilities of the stomach. I am not sure, indeed, that he greatly
disagreed with the Chinese, who held that the soul lies in the abdomen.