Much jocularity must evidently attend such an intellectual competition as this, and perhaps some little sharpening of the mind may also be the consequence.

Epigrams are concise effusions of wit, generally satirical in character, expressed in a few lines in verse: usually, the last line conveys some pointed allusion; as, for example,

Lucia thinks happiness consists in state:
She weds an idiot, but she eats on plate.

Or the following by Young:

As in smooth oil the razor best is whet,

So wit is by politeness sharpest set;
Their want of edge from their offence is seen,
But pain us least when exquisitely keen.

Prologues and Epilogues, the addresses in verse before and after a play, craving the indulgence of the audience, are now little employed by dramatists, as they are found to be of no practical avail. Epitaphs in verse, not intended for inscribing on tombstones, and written for general perusal, are also beginning to be dropped out of literature. By Burns and others, epitaphs were used as engines of satire, sometimes scarcely worthy of the writer. One of the most pleasing epitaphs in general literature is that by Pope on Gay:

Of manners gentle, of affections mild;
In wit a man, simplicity a child;

With native humour temp'ring virtuous rage,
Formed to delight at once and lash the age:

Above temptation in a low estate,
And uncorrupted even among the great.
A safe companion, and an easy friend;
Unblamed through life, lamented in his end.
These are thy honours! not that here thy bust
Is mixed with heroes, or with kings thy dust,
But that the worthy and the good may say,

Striking their pensive bosoms-Here lies Gay.

Acrostics are verses in which, by taking the first letter of each line, we form the name of a person-a form of composition often used for flattery, as well as for lampoons, among the writers of the seventeenth century. The following is one of twenty-four Hymns to Astrea (Queen Elizabeth), written by Sir John Davies, in every one of which the initial letters of the lines form the words ELISABETHA REGINA:

E v'ry night from ev'n to morn,
Love's chorister amid the thorn
I s now so sweet a singer;
So sweet, as for her song I scorn
A pollo's voice and finger.

But, nightingale, sith you delight
E ver to watch the starry night,
Tell all the stars of heaven,
Heaven never had a star so bright
A s now to earth is given.

Royal Astrea makes our day
E ternal with her beams, nor may
Gross darkness overcome her;
I now perceive why some do write
No country hath so short a night
As England hath in summer.

Anagrams, to which we shall refer in conclusion, are properly enough described as mere curiosities in literature, and as such receive some notice in the work of Mr Disraeli. Anagrams are words composed of the letters of some other words read backwards, or otherwise transposed, the new meaning thus produced being considered as applicable to the original subject. The word live, for example, when read backwards, becomes evil. Such relationships between words formed from the same letters, are evidently accidental, and possess no real value; yet, in early times, anagrams were treated with much gravity, and may, in fact, be said to have formed part of the older superstitions. By the ancient Jewish cabalists, the art of themuru, or of transposing the letters of words, was used for the purpose of discovering hidden meanings. The Greeks and Romans, also, anagrammatised words; and the practice prevailed through the middle ages until comparatively recent times.

The French have always been addicted to this serio-comic badinage. Two or three centuries ago, in France, a man sometimes made his fortune by working out a single happy transposition of the letters in the name of a king, or other great personage. Thus all France rung with the anagram on the monarch François de Valoys, whose name was converted into De façon suis royal, indicating him indeed to be of regal form. Marie Touchet, a lady at the court of Charles IX., had her name transformed into Je charme tout, 'I charm all;' and doubtless rich was the reward of the lucky anagrammatist.

In England, during the seventeenth century, the art of anagrammatising was in much esteem. The words James Charles Stuart, were transformed into Claims Arthur's Seat, and were accordingly thought to enforce the rights of the Stuarts to the throne. From James Stuart, the anagram, A just master, was also much admired. Perhaps the happiest of all anagrams,' says Mr Disraeli, 'was produced on a singular person and

occasion. Lady Eleanor Davies, the wife of the celebrated Sir John Davies, the poet, was a very extraordinary character: she was the Cassandra of her age; and several of her productions warranted her to conceive she was a prophetess. As her prophecies in the troubled times of Charles I. were usually against the government, she was at length brought by them into the Court of High Commission. The prophetess was not a little mad, and fancied the spirit of Daniel was in her, from an anagram she had formed of her name, Eleanor Davies-to Reveal 0 Daniel. The anagram had too much by an , and too little by an s; yet Daniel and Reveal were in it, and that was sufficient to satisfy her inspirations. The court attempted to dispossess the spirit from the lady, while the bishops were in vain reasoning the point with her out of the Scriptures, to no purpose, she poising text against text. One of the Deans of the Arches, says Heylin, took up a pen, and at last hit upon this excellent anagram: Dame Eleanor Davies-Never so mad a ladie! The happy fancy put the solemn court into laughter, and Cassandra into the utmost dejection of spirit. Foiled by her own weapons, her spirit suddenly forsook her; and either she never afterwards ventured on prophesying, or the anagram perpetually reminded her hearers of her state. No more was heard of the prophetess.'

In more modern times, anagrams have sometimes attracted public notice. The words Horatio Nelson have been transformed into Honor est a Nilo, 'His honours are from the Nile;' and Révolution Française into Un Corse la finira, A Corsican will finish it,' together with the word Veto, which figured in the constitution framed by the revolutionary assembly. The words Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, are transposable into 'Let well-foil'd Gaul sekure thy r'nown'-an imperfect but not very bad anagram. An anagram on the lamented Princess Charlotte, daughter of George IV., who unexpectedly died in childbirth, was thought to be particularly happy. The

words Princess Charlotte Augusta of Wales, were transformed into P. C. Her august race is lost, O fatal news. We may come to a close with the following:

When I cry that I sin is transposed, it is clear,

My resource, Christianity, soon will appear.

Though anagrammatising be unquestionably the veriest trifling, it may, like the composing of Bouts-Rimés, serve very well to pass a social evening; and, being so far an exercise of the intellect, it is certainly preferable, as an occupation for such hours, to many with which even cultivated circles have long been in the habit of employing themselves.

MEMORY.

M

EMORY is one of the most remarkable attributes of the mind. In some persons, it appears to be intuitive, a perfect gift from Nature, for which no artificial cultivation is needed. Numerous instances are on record, in ancient and modern times, of the most astonishing natural memories; but usually in each case in relation to a distinct subject, as languages, dates, arithmetic, and so forth; those having a powerful memory for one class of circumstances, possessing but a moderate capacity for recollecting those of another class.

We are told of ancient orators who recollected every word of every speech they had ever delivered; of generals who remembered the name of every soldier in their armies; of Mithridates, who gave laws to twenty-two kingdoms in as many languages, of