which the author possesses for taking in
hand the work of teaching English.
Beginning with words relating to the elements,
the world, the seasons, "of the time," and
the like, we pass to more general and varied
information. Thus, for instance, we are
introduced to the "objects of man," which
we are a little surprised to find comprise
not only "the ring" and "the purse,"
which might be objects to some men if of
sufficient value, but also "the worsted
stockings," "the boots," and other articles
of clothing. "Woman objects" is our next
division; but it must by no means be
supposed that our author is a disciple of the
rights of woman party, and proceeds to
give a catalogue of what it is woman objects
to. Objects, it appears, is again to be taken as
a noun and not as a verb, and woman objects
are earrings, curls, petticoats, and so on,
though why "the cornet" should be introduced
as an object to women, when nothing
is said of the lieutenant or the captain, is
not clear. The list of articles of food,
which comprises some curiosities such as
"some wigs"—who eats wigs?—"a dainty
dishes," and "a litle mine," is headed
briefly and expressively "eatings," and is
followed naturally enough by "drinkings,"
among which "some paltry wine" holds a
dishonourable position. It might have been
known to a Portuguese that Englishmen
are not in the habit of calling the juice of
the Portuguese grape "porto-wine," but
we must not be too critical. It is a little
odd to find horses, dogs, oxen, and other
four-footed creatures described as
"Quadruped's beasts," though not more so,
perhaps, than to come upon a list of
"Insects-reptiles," while "Marine's terms" do not
merely apply to that distinguished corps
the Royal Marines, but include the admiral,
the anchor, the vessel-captain, and even a
flute. Spurs, stirrups, and other riding
gear come under the head "For ride a
horse." With these and other trifling
exceptions column number two is undoubtedly
English; but column number three defies
for a long time all study and investigation.
What language can it be that permits such
expressions as "Thi flax ove laiteningue,"
"E kuor-teur ove an aur," "Yeun-gue
mane," "Es-pi-txe" (rather like Chinese
the two last), and "Thi txi-xe-rume?"
We had almost given these riddles up as a
bad job, when a fearful suspicion crept over
us. What did the preface say? "It increase
not to contain any of those works the
figured pronunciation of the english words,"
"indispensable object whom wish to speak
the english language correctly." It could
not be that these signs and wonders were
meant as guides to the proper pronunciation
of the English words in column two?
Never! And yet—yes, on investigation
the fatal truth cannot be concealed. It is
as bad as an electric shock to find that
"Thi flax ove laiteningue" is a flash of
lightning; it takes nearly a quarter of an
hour to make that amount of sense out of
"E kuor-teur ove an aur;" our Chinese
words are, young man, and, speech, and
the last jaw-breaker we have quoted is
known in Cheshire as, the cheese room.
This is a fearful discovery. There is a
morbid satisfaction in wandering up and
down this terrific column. We come into
the knowledge of all sorts of mysteries.
Who could have supposed it possible that
he, or she, was liable to the failings of
eun-po-laite-ness, of esteub-eurn-ness, of
tretx-er-i? Unpoliteness, stubbornness, and
treachery are common amongst the
children of men, but these other vices, what
can they be? How about discovering a
seun-ine-la in your family; what relation
is that personage likely to be to your
keux-z'n; a word that almost defies research
until a despairing appeal to column number
two elicits a doubtful whisper of "cousin;"
and how would you like your only
unmarried daughter to be taken from you by
a "heuz' beunn'd?" Does Mr. Millais
know that, after all, he is only a "pene-teur"
and an "ak-a-di-mix-ane" to boot?
It may surprise Mr. Durham to hear of
himself as an "Es-keulp'-teur," but that it
appears is the proper title for artists in
marble. Our medical man is nothing but
a "seur-djeune," our wife a very tolerable
"miu-zix-ane," we play ourselves rather
neatly on the "fladj'-e-lelt," although we
have but a low opinion of the "Sco-txe"
national instrument the "bague-paipe,"
and we are rejoiced that the fact of our
being an "In'g'glixe-mann" gives us a
better chance of understanding the new
Guide of the Conversation than is likely to
be the case with persons of other nationalities.
Considerations of space warn us not
to linger over this fascinating column any
longer, but we must cull one or two more
flowers of pronunciation, just to show our
readers how desirable it is that they should
at once get the book for themselves. Let
us, for example, amongst the "Trades,"
glance approvingly at the "kon'fek-xeun'-er,"
the "Pé-stri-kuke," and the "Txim'ni-suip-er."
We are shown, it appears, to
our room at the hotel by a "Txém'-beurméde,"
we get the " guute" in our feet,
under which circumstances we call for the