The Comic Latin Grammar - A new and facetious introduction to the Latin tongue
by Percival Leigh
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[Transcriber's Note:

This text is intended for users whose text readers cannot use the "real" (Unicode/UTF-8) version. In the Latin text, the "oe" diphthong is shown as [oe] to distinguish it from the two-vowel sequence "oe" ("coeuntia"). The asterism used in the advertising section is shown as ***.

The Prosody section uses letters with macrons and breves ("long" and "short" marks). In this section only, vowels with macron are shown as CAPITALS, while vowels with breve are shown in {braces}. Long vowels that are already capitalized (very rare) are shown in [brackets].

This book was written in 1840. It includes material that may be offensive to some readers. Students should be cautioned that the book predates "New Style" (classical) pronunciation. Note in particular the pronunciation of "j" ("Never jam today") and of all vowels ("Yes, you Can-u-leia").

In the main text, boldface type is shown in marks. In the advertising section at the end, the same marks represent sans-serif type.

Typographical errors are listed at the end of the text, along with some general notes.]

[Frontispiece: "Painted and Engraved by John Leech, R.C.A."]



A new and facetious Introduction

to the


With Numerous Illustrations.

The Second Edition.


Coe, Printer, 27, Old Change, St. Paul's.



The Author of this little work cannot allow a second edition of it to go forth to the world, unaccompanied by a few words of apology, he being desirous of imitating, in every respect, the example of distinguished writers.

He begs that so much as the consciousness of being answerable for a great deal of nonsense, usually prompts a man to say, in the hope of disarming criticism, may be considered to have been said already. But he particularly requests that the want of additions to his book may be excused; and pleads, in arrest of judgment, his numerous and absorbing avocations.

Wishing to atone as much as possible for this deficiency, and prevailed upon by the importunity of his friends, he has allowed a portrait of himself, by that eminent artist, Mr. John Leech, to whom he is indebted for the embellishments, and very probably for the sale of the book, to be presented, facing the title-page, to the public.

Here again he has been influenced by the wish to comply with the requisitions of custom, and the disinclination to appear odd, whimsical, or peculiar.

On the admirable sketch itself, bare justice requires that he should speak somewhat in detail. The likeness he is told, he fears by too partial admirers, is excellent. The principle on which it has been executed, that of investing with an ideal magnitude, the proportions of nature, is plainly, from what we observe in heroic poetry, painting, and sculpture, the soul itself of the superhuman and sublime. Of the justness of the metaphorical compliment implied in the delineation of the head, it is not for the author to speak; of its exquisiteness and delicacy, his sense is too strong for expression. The habitual pensiveness of the elevated eyebrows, mingled with the momentary gaiety of the rest of the countenance, is one of the most successful points in the picture, and is as true to nature as it is indicative of art.

The Author's tailor, though there are certain reasons why his name should not appear in print, desires to express his obligation to the talented artist for the very favourable impression which, without prejudice to truth, has been given to the public of his skill. The ease so conspicuous in the management of the surtout, and the thought so remarkable in the treatment of the trousers, fully warrant his admiration and gratitude.

Too great praise cannot be bestowed on the boots, considered with reference to art, though in this respect the Author is quite sensible that both himself and the maker of their originals have been greatly flattered. He is also perfectly aware that there is a degree of neatness, elegance, and spirit in the tie of the cravat, to which he has in reality never yet been able to attain.

In conclusion, he is much gratified by the taste displayed in furnishing him with so handsome a walking stick; and he assures all whom it may concern, that the hint thus bestowed will not be lost upon him; for he intends immediately to relinquish the large oaken cudgel which he has hitherto been accustomed to carry, and to appear, in every respect, to the present generation, such as he will descend to posterity.


A great book, says an old proverb, is a great evil; and a great preface, says a new one, is a great bore. It is not, therefore, our intention to expatiate largely on the present occasion; especially since a long discourse prefixed to a small volume, is like a forty-eight pounder at the door of a pig-stye. We should as soon think of erecting the Nelson Memorial in front of Buckingham Palace. Indeed, were it not necessary to show some kind of respect to fashion, we should hasten at once into the midst of things, instead of trespassing on the patience of our readers, and possibly, trifling with their time. We should not like to be kept waiting at a Lord Mayor's feast by a long description of the bill of fare. Our preface, however, shall at least have the merit of novelty; it shall be candid.

This book, like the razors in Dr. Wolcot's story, is made to sell. This last word has a rather equivocal meaning— but we scorn to blot, otherwise we should say to be sold. An article offered for sale may, nevertheless, be worth buying; and it is hoped that the resemblance between the aforesaid razors, and this our production, does not extend to the respective sharpness of the commodities. The razors proved scarcely worth a farthing to the clown who bought them for eighteen-pence, and were fit to shave nothing but the beard of an oyster. We trust that the "Comic Latin Grammar" will be found to cut, now and then, rather better, at least, than that comes to; and that it will reward the purchaser, at any rate, with his pennyworth for his penny, by its genuine bona fide contents. There are many works, the pages of which contain a good deal of useful matter— sometimes in the shape of an ounce of tea or a pound of butter: we venture to indulge the expectation, that these latter additions to the value of our own, will be considered unnecessary.

Perhaps we should have adopted the title of "Latin in sport made learning in earnest"— which would give a tolerable idea of the nature of our undertaking. The doctrine, it is true, may bear the same relation to the lighter matter, that the bread in Falstaff's private account did to the liquor; though if we have given our reader "a deal of sack," we wish it may not be altogether "intolerable." Latin, however, is a great deal less like bread, to most boys, than it is like physic; especially antimony, ipecacuanha, and similar medicines. It ought, therefore, to be given in something palatable, and capable of causing it to be retained by the— mind— in what physicians call a pleasant vehicle. This we have endeavoured to invent— and if we have disguised the flavour of the drugs without destroying their virtues, we shall have entirely accomplished our design. There are a few particularly nasty pills, draughts, and boluses, which we could find no means of sweetening; and with which, on that account, we have not attempted to meddle. For these omissions we must request some little indulgence. Our performance is confessedly imperfect, but be it remembered, that

"Men rather do their broken weapons use, Than their bare hands."

The "Comic Latin Grammar" can, certainly, never be called an imposition, as another Latin Grammar frequently is. We remember having had the whole of it to learn at school, besides being— no matter what— for pinning a cracker to the master's coat-tail. The above hint is worthy the attention of boys; nor will the following, probably, be thrown away upon school-masters, particularly such as reside in the north of England. "Laugh and grow fat," is an ancient and a true maxim. Now, will not the "Comic Latin Grammar," (like Scotch marmalade and Yarmouth bloaters) form a "desirable addition" to the breakfast of the young gentlemen entrusted to their care? We dare not say much of its superseding the use of the cane, as we hold all old established customs in the utmost reverence and respect; and, besides, have no wish to deprive any one of innocent amusement. We would only suggest, that flagellation is now sometimes necessary, and that whatever tends to render it optional may, now and then, save trouble.

One word in conclusion. The march of intellect is not confined to the male sex; the fairer part of the creation are now augmenting by their numbers, and adorning by their countenance, the scientific and literary train. But the path of learning is sometimes too rugged for their tender feet. We pretend not to strew it for them with roses; we are not poetically given— nay, we cannot even promise them a Brussels carpet;— but if a plain Kidderminster will serve their turn, we here display one for their accommodation, that thus smoothly and pleasantly they may make their safe ascent to the temple of Minerva and the Muses.


Very little introductory matter would probably be sufficient to place the rising generation on terms of the most perfect familiarity with a "Comic Latin Grammar." To the elder and middle-aged portion of the community, however, the very notion of such a work may seem in the highest degree preposterous; if not indicative of a degree of presumptuous irreverence on the part of the author little short of literary high treason, if not commensurate, in point of moral delinquency, with the same crime as defined by the common law of England. It is out of consideration for the praiseworthy, though perhaps erroneous, feelings of such respectable personages, that we proceed to make the following preliminary remarks; wherein it will be our object, by demonstrating the necessity which exists for such a publication as the present, to exonerate ourselves from all blame on the score of its production.

When we consider the progress of civilization and refinement, we find that all ages have in turn been characterized by some one distinctive peculiarity or other. To say nothing of the Golden Age, the Silver Age, the Iron Age, and so forth, which, with all possible respect for the poets, can scarcely be said to be worth much in a grave argument; it is quite clear that the Augustan Age, the Middle Ages, the Elizabethan Age, and the Age of Queen Anne, were all of them very different, one from the other, in regard to the peculiar tone of feeling which distinguished the public mind in each of them. In like manner, the present (which will hereafter probably be called the Victorian Age) is very unlike all that have preceded it. It may be termed the Age of Comicality. Not but that some traces of comic feeling, inherent as it is in the very nature of man, have not at all times been more or less observable; but it is only of late years that the ludicrous capabilities of the human mind have expanded in their fullest vigour. Comicality has heretofore been evinced only, as it were, in isolated sparks and flashes, instead of that full blaze of meridian splendour which now pervades the entire mechanism of society, and illuminates all the transactions of life. Thus in the Golden Age, there was something very comical in human creatures eating acorns, like pigs. The Augustan Age was comical enough, if we may trust some of Horace's satires. Much comicality was displayed in the Middle Ages, in the proceedings of the knights errant, the doings in Palestine, and the mode adopted by the priests of inculcating religion on the minds of the people. In the Elizabethan Age several comic incidents occurred at court; particularly when any of the courtiers were guilty of personal impertinence to their virgin queen. It must have been very comical to see Shakspere holding stirrups like an ostler, or performing the part of the Ghost, in his own play of Hamlet. The dress worn in Queen Anne's time, and that of the first Georges, was very comical indeed— but enough of this. Our concern is with the present time— the funniest epoch, beyond all comparison, in the history of the world. Some few years back, the minds of nations, convulsed with the great political revolutions then taking place, were in a mood by no means apt to be gratified by whimsicality and merriment. Furthermore, certain poets of the lack-a-daisical school, such as Byron, Shelley, Goethe, and others, writing in conformity with the prevailing taste of the day, threw a wet blanket on the spirits of men, which all but extinguished the feeble embers of mirth, upon which 'shocking events' had exercised so pernicious an influence already: or, to change a vulgar for a scientific metaphor, they placed such a pressure of sentimental atmosphere on the common stock of laughing gas, as to convert it into a mere fluid, and almost to solidify it altogether. It is now exhibiting the amazing amount of expansive force, which under favourable circumstances it is capable of exerting. Many causes have combined to bring about the happy state of things under which we now live. Amongst these, the exertions of individuals hold the first rank; of whom the veteran Liston, the late lamented Mr. John Reeve, the facetious Keeley, and the inimitable Buckstone, are deserving of our highest commendation. And more especially is praise due to the talented author of the Pickwick Papers, whose genius has convulsed the sides of thousands, has revolutionized the republic of letters (making, no doubt, a great many sovereigns) and has become, as it were, a mirror, which will reflect to all posterity the laughter-loving spirit of his age.

But it is not (as we have before remarked) in literature alone, that the tendency to the ludicrous is shewn. In many recent scientific speculations it is strikingly and abundantly obvious— some of those on geology may be quoted as examples. The offspring of the sciences— those pledges of affection which they present to art, almost all of them, come into the world with a caricature-like smirk upon their faces. Air-balloons and rail-roads have something funny about them; and photogenic drawings are, to say the least, very curious. The learned professions are all tinged with drollery. The law is confessedly ridiculous from beginning to end, and what is very strange, is that no one should attempt to make it otherwise. Medicine is comical— or rather tragi-comical— the disparity of opinion among its professors, the chaotic state of its principles, and the conduct of its students being considered. No one can deny that the distribution of church property is somewhat odd, or can assert that the doings— at least of those who are destined for the clerical office, are now and then of rather a strange character. Political meetings are very laughable things, when we reflect upon the strong asseverations of patriotism there made and believed. The wisdom of the legislature is by no means of the gravest class, particularly when it offers municipal reforms as a substitute for bread. The debates in a certain House must be of a very humourous character, if we may judge from the frequent "hear hear, and a laugh," by which the proceedings there are interrupted. Our risible faculties are continually called into action at public lectures of all kinds; and indeed, no lecturer, however learned he may be, has much chance now-a-days of instructing, unless he can also amuse his audience. Nor can the various public and even private buildings, which are daily springing up around us, like so many mushrooms, be contemplated without considerable emotions of mirthfulness. The new style of ecclesiastical architecture, entitled the Cockney-Gothic, affords a good illustration of this remark; but the comic Temple of the Fine Arts, in Trafalgar Square, is what Lord Bacon would have called a "glaring instance" of its correctness. The occurrences of the day bear all of them the stamp of facetiousness. The vote of approbation, lately passed on a certain course of policy, is a capital joke; the tricks that are constantly played off upon John Bull by the Russians, French, Yankees, and others, though somewhat impertinent to the aforesaid John, must seem very diverting to lookers on. The state of the Drama may also be brought forward in proof of our position. Tragedies are at a discount; farces are at a premium; lions, nay goats and monkeys, are pressed into the service of Momus. Even the various institutions for the advancement of morals have not escaped the influence of the prevailing taste. To mention that respectable body of men, the Teetotallers, is sufficient of itself to excite a smile. In short, look wherever you will, you will find it a matter of the greatest difficulty to keep your countenance.

The truth is, that people are tired of crying, and find it much more agreeable to laugh. The sublime is out of fashion; the ridiculous is in vogue. A turn-up nose is now a more interesting object than a turn-down collar; and if it should be urged that the flowing locks of our young men are indicative of sentimentality by their length, let it be remembered that they are in general quite unaccompanied by a corresponding quality of face. It has been said that the schoolmaster is abroad:— true; but he is walking arm and arm with the Merry-Andrew; and the members, presidents, and secretaries of mechanics' institutions, and associations for the advancement of everything, follow in his train. Nothing can be taught that is not palatable, and nothing is now palatable but what is funny. That boys should be instructed in the Latin language will be denied by few (although by some eccentric persons this has been done); that they can be expected to learn what they cannot laugh at will, to all reflecting minds, especially on perusing the foregoing considerations, appear in the highest degree unreasonable. To conclude:— let all such as are disposed to stare at the title of our work, ponder attentively on what we have said above; let them, in the language of the farce, "put this and that together," and they will at once perceive the beneficial effect, which holding up the Latin Grammar to ridicule is likely to produce in the minds of youth. So much for the satisfaction of our senior readers. And now, no longer to detain our juvenile friends, let us proceed to business, or pleasure, or both:— we will not stand upon ceremony with respect to terms.



Of Latin there are three kinds: Latin Proper, or good Latin; Dog Latin; and Thieves' Latin, Latin Proper, or good Latin, is the language which was spoken by the ancient Romans. Dog Latin is the Latin in which boys compose their first verses and themes, and which is occasionally employed at the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, but much more frequently at Edinburgh, Aberdeen, and Glasgow. It includes Medical Latin, and Law Latin; though these, to the unlearned, generally appear Greek. Mens tuus ego— mind your eye; Illic vadis cum oculo tuo ex— there you go with your eye out; Quomodo est mater tua?— how's your mother? Fiat haustus ter die capiendus— let a draught be made, to be taken three times a day; Bona et catalla— goods and chattels— are examples.

Thieves' Latin, more commonly known by the name of slang, is much in use among a certain class of conveyancers, who disregard the distinctions of meum and tuum. Furthermore, it constitutes a great part of the familiar discourse of most young men in modern times, particularly lawyers' clerks and medical students. It bears a very close affinity to Law Latin, with which, indeed, it is sometimes confounded. Examples:— to prig a wipe— to steal a handkerchief. A rum start— a curious occurrence. A plant— an imposition. Flummoxed— undone. Sold— deceived. A heavy swell— a great dandy. Quibus, tin, dibs, mopuses, stumpy— money. Grub, prog, tuck— victuals. A stiff-'un— a dead body— properly, a subject. To be scragged— to suffer the last penalty of the law, &c.

All these kinds of Latin are to be taught in the Comic Latin Grammar.

If Toby, the learned pig, had been desired to say his alphabet in Latin, he would have done it by taking away the W from the English alphabet. Indeed, this is what he is said to have actually done. The Latin letters, therefore, remind us of the greatest age that a fashionable lady ever confesses she has attained to,— being between twenty and thirty.

Six of these letters are called what Dutchmen, speaking English, call fowls— vowels; namely, a, e, i, o, u, y.

A vowel is like an AEolian harp; it makes a full and perfect sound of itself. A consonant cannot sound without a vowel, any more than a horn (except such an one as Baron Munchausen's) can play a tune without a performer.

Consonants are divided into mutes, liquids and double letters; although they have nothing in particular to do with funerals, hydrostatics, or the General post office. The liquids are, l, m, n, r; the double letters, j, x, z; the other letters are mutes.

"Hye dum, dye dum, fiddle dumb—c." —STERNE.

A syllable is a distinct sound of one or more letters pronounced in a breath, or, as we say in the classics, in a jiffey.

A diphthong is the sound of two vowels in one syllable. Taken collectively they resemble a closed fist— i.e. a bunch of fives. The diphthongs are au, eu, ei, ae, and [oe]. Of the two first of these, au and eu, the sound is intermediate between that of the two vowels of which each is formed. This fact may perhaps be impressed upon the mind, on the principles of artificial memory, by a reference to a familiar beverage, known by the name of half-and-half. In like manner, ei, which is generally pronounced i, and ae and [oe], sounded like e, may be said to exhibit something like an analogy to a married couple. The human diphthong, Smith female + Brown male, is called Brown only.

The reason, says the fool in King Lear, why the seven stars are no more than seven— is a pretty reason— because they are not eight. This is a fool's reason; but we (like many other commentators) cannot give a better one, why the Parts of Speech are no more than eight— because they are not nine. They are as follow:

1. Noun, Pronoun, Verb, Participle— declined.

2. Adverb, Preposition, Conjunction, Interjection— undeclined. Most schoolboys would like to decline them altogether.


A noun is a name,— whether it be a Christian name, or a sur-name— the name of a prince, a pig, a pancake, or a post. Whatever is— is a noun.

Nouns are divided into substantives and adjectives.

A noun substantive is its own trumpeter, and speaks for itself without assistance from any other word— brassica, a cabbage; sartor, a tailor; medicus, a physician; vetula, an old woman; venenum, poison; are examples of substantives.

An adjective is like an infant in leading strings— it cannot go alone. It always requires to be joined to a substantive, of which it shows the nature or quality— as lectio longa, a long lesson; magnus aper, a great boar; pinguis puer, a fat boy; macer puer, a lean boy. In making love (as you will find one of these days) or in abusing a cab-man, your success will depend in no small degree in your choice of adjectives.


Be not alarmed, boys, at the above heading. There are numbers of nouns, it is true, that is to say, lots; or, as we say in the schools, "a precious sight" of nouns in the dictionary; but we are not now going to enumerate, and make you learn them. The numbers of nouns here spoken of are two only; the singular and the plural.

The singular speaks but of one— as later, a brick; faba, a bean; tuba, a trump (or trumpet); flamma, a blaze; aethiops, a nigger (or negro); cornix, a crow.

The plural speaks of more than one— as lateres, bricks; fabae, beans; tubae, trumps; flammae, blazes; aethiopes, niggers; cornices, crows.

Here it may be remarked that the cynic philosophers were very singular fellows.

Also that prize-poems are sometimes composed in very singular numbers.


Nouns have six cases in each number, (that is, six of one and half a dozen of the other) but can only be put in one of them at a time. They are thus ticketed— nominative, genitive, dative, accusative, vocative, and ablative.

The nominative case comes before the verb, as the horse does before the cart, the "lieutenant before the ancient," and the superintendant of police before the inspector. It answers to the question, who or what; as, Who jaws? magister jurgatur, the master jaws.

The genitive case is known by the sign of, and answers to the question, whose, or whereof; as, Whose breeches? Femoralia magistri— the breeches of the master, or the master's breeches.

The dative case is known by the signs to or for, and answers to the question, to whom, or to or for what; as, To whom do I hold out my hands? Protendo manus magistro— I hold out my hands to the master.

In this place we are called upon to consider, whether it be more agreeable to have Latin or the ferula at our fingers' ends.

Observe that dative means giving. Schoolmasters are very often in the dative case— but their generosity is chiefly exercised in bestowing what is termed monkey's allowance; that is, if not more kicks, more boxes on the ear, more spats, more canings, birchings, and impositions, than halfpence.


The accusative case follows the verb, as a bailiff follows a debtor, a bull-dog a butcher, or a round of applause a supernatural squall at the Italian Opera. It answers to the question Whom? or What? as, Whom do you laugh at? (behind his back) Derideo magistrum— I laugh at the master.

The vocative case is known by calling, or speaking to; as, O magister— O master; an exclamation which is frequently the consequence of shirking out, making false concords or quantities, obstreperous conduct in school, &c.

The ablative case is known by certain prepositions, expressed or understood; as Deprensus magistro— caught out by the master. Coram rostro— before the beak. The prepositions, in, with, from, by, and the word, than, after the comparative degree, are signs of the ablative case. In angustia— in a fix. Cum indigena— with a native. Ab arbore— from a tree. A rictu— by a grin. Adipe lubricior— slicker than grease.


The genders of nouns, which are three, the masculine, the feminine, and the neuter, are denoted in Latin by articles. We have articles, also, in English, which distinguish the masculine from the feminine, but they are articles of dress; such as petticoats and breeches, mantillas and mackintoshes. But as there are many things in Latin, called masculine and feminine, which are nevertheless not male and female, the articles attached to them are not parts of dress, but parts of speech.

We will now, with our readers' permission, initiate them into a new mode of declining the article hic, haec, hoc. And we take this opportunity of protesting against the old and short-sighted system of teaching a boy only one thing at a time, which originated, no doubt, from the general ignorance of everything but the dead languages which prevailed in the monkish ages. We propose to make declensions, conjugations, &c., a vehicle for imparting something more than the mere dry facts of the immediate subject. And if we can occasionally inculcate an original remark, a scientific principle, or a moral aphorism, we shall, of course, think ourselves sufficiently rewarded by the consciousness— et caetera, et caetera, et caetera.

Masc. hic. Fem. haec. Neut. hoc, &c.

The nominative singular's hic, haec, and hoc,— Which to learn, has cost school boys full many a knock; The genitive 's hujus, the dative makes huic, (A fact Mr. Squeers never mentioned to Smike); Then hunc, hanc, and hoc, the accusative makes, The vocative— caret— no very great shakes; The ablative case maketh hoc, hac, and hoc, A cock is a fowl— but a fowl 's not a cock. The nominative plural is hi, hae, and haec, The Roman young ladies were dressed a la Grecque; The genitive case horum, harum, and horum, Silenus and Bacchus were fond of a jorum; The dative in all the three genders is his, At Actium his tip did Mark Antony miss: The accusative 's hos, has, and haec in all grammars, Herodotus told some American crammers; The vocative here also— caret— 's no go, As Milo found rending an oak-tree, you know; And his, like the dative the ablative case is, The Furies had most disagreeable faces.

Nouns declined with two articles, are called common. This word common requires explanation— it is not used in the same sense as that in which we say, that quackery is common in medicine, knavery in the law, and humbug everywhere— pigeons at Crockford's, lame ducks at the Stock Exchange, Jews at the ditto, and Royal ditto, and foreigners in Leicester Square— No; a common noun is one that is both masculine and feminine; in one sense of the word therefore it is uncommon. Parens, a parent, which may be declined both with hic, and haec, is, for obvious reasons, a noun of this class; and so is fur, a thief; likewise miles, a soldier, which will appear strange to those of our readers, who do not call to mind the existence of the ancient amazons; the dashing white sergeant being the only female soldier known in modern times. Nor have we more than one authenticated instance of a female sailor, if we except the heroine commemorated in the somewhat apocryphal narrative— Billy Taylor.

Nouns are called doubtful when declined with the article hic or haec— whichever you please, as the showman said of the Duke of Wellington and Napoleon Bonaparte. Anguis, a snake, is a doubtful noun. At all events he is a doubtful customer.

Epicene nouns are those which, though declined with one article only, represent both sexes, as hic passer, a sparrow, haec aquila, an eagle,— cock and hen. A sparrow, however, to say nothing of an eagle, must appear a doubtful noun with regard to gender, to a cockney sportsman.

After all, there is no rule in the Latin language about gender so comprehensive as that observed in Hampshire, where they call every thing he but a tom-cat, and that she.


There are five declensions of substantives. As a pig is known by his tail, so are declensions of substantives distinguished by the ending of the genitive case. Our fear of outraging the comic feelings of humanity, prevents us from saying quite so much about them as our love of learning would otherwise induce us to do. We therefore refer the student to that clever little book, the Eton Latin Grammar, strongly recommending him to decline the following substantives, by way of an exercise, after the manner of the examples there set down. First declension, Genitivo ae. Virga, a rod. —Second, i. Puer, a boy. Stultus, a fool. Tergum, a back. —Third, is. Vulpes, a fox. Procurator, an attorney. Cliens, a client. —Fourth, us— here you may have, Risus, a laugh at. —Fifth, ei. Effigies, an effigy, image, or Guy.

The substantive face, facies, makes faces, facies, in the plural.

Although we are precluded from going through the whole of the declensions, we cannot refrain from proposing "for the use of schools," a model upon which all substantives may be declined in a mode somewhat more agreeable, if not more instructive, than that heretofore adopted.

Exempli Gratia.

Musa musae, The Gods were at tea, Musae musam. Eating raspberry jam, Musa musa, Made by Cupid's mamma, Musae musarum, Thou "Diva Dearum." Musis musas, Said Jove to his lass, Musae musis. Can ambrosia beat this?


Some nouns adjective are declined with three terminations— as a pacha of three tails would be, if he were to make a proposal to an English heiress— as bonus, good— tener, tender. Sweet epithets! how forcibly they remind us of young Love and a leg of mutton.

Bonus, bona, bonum, Thou little lambkin dumb, Boni, bonae, boni, For those sweet chops I sigh, Bono, bonae, bono, Have pity on my woe, Bonum, bonam, bonum, Thou speak'st though thou art mum, Bone, bona, bonum, "O come and eat me, come," Bono, bonae, bono, The butcher lays thee low, Boni, bonae, bona, Those chops are a picture,— ah! Bonorum, bonarum, bonorum, To put lots of Tomata sauce o'er 'em Bonis— Don't, miss, Bonos, bonas, bona, Thou art sweeter than thy mamma, Boni, bonae, bona, And fatter than thy papa. Bonis,— What bliss!

In like manner decline tener, tenera, tenerum.

Unus, one; solus, alone; totus, the whole; nullus, none; alter, the other; uter, whether of the two— make the genitive case singular in ius and the dative in i.


Q. In what case will a grain of barley joined to an adjective stand for the name of an animal?

A. In the dative case of unus— uni-corn.

Uni nimirum tibi recte semper erunt res.

Hor. Sat. lib. ii. 2. 106.

Q. Why is the above verse like all nature?

A. Because it is an uni-verse.

The word alius, another, is declined like the above-named adjectives, except that it makes aliud, not alium, in the neuter singular.

The difference of unus from alius, say the London commentators, like that of a humming-top from a peg-top, consists of the 'um.

N.B. Tu es unus alius, is not good Latin for "You're another," a phrase more elegantly expressed by "Tu quoque."

There are some adjectives that remind us of lawyer's clerks, and, by courtesy, of linen-drapers' apprentices. These may be termed articled adjectives; being declined with the articles hic, haec, hoc, after the third declension of substantives— as tristis, sad, melior, better, felix, happy.

It is not very easy to conceive any thing in which sadness and comicality are united, except Tristis Amator, a sad lover.

Melior is not better for comic purposes. Felix affords no room for a happy joke.

Decline these three adjectives, and others of the same class, according to the following rules:

If the nominative endeth in is or er, why, sir, The ablative singular endeth in i, sir; The first, fourth, and fifth case, their neuter make e, But the same in the plural in ia must be. E, or i, are the ablative's ends,— mark my song, While or to the nominative case doth belong; For the neuter aforesaid we settle it thus: The plural is ora; the singular us. If than is, er, and or, it hath many more enders, The nominative serves to express the three genders; But the plural for ia hath icia and itia, As Felix, felicia— Dives, divitia.


Comparisons are odious—

Adjectives have three degrees of comparison. This is perhaps the reason why they are so disagreeable to learn.

The first degree of comparison is the positive, which denotes the quality of a thing absolutely. Thus, the Eton Latin Grammar is lepidus, funny.

The second is the comparative, which increases or lessens the quality, formed by adding or to the first case of the positive ending in i. Thus the Charter House Grammar, is lepidor— funnier, or more funny. —The third is the superlative, which increases or diminishes the signification to the greatest degree, formed from the same case by adding thereto, ssimus. Thus the Comic Latin Grammar is lepidissimus, funniest, or most funny. A Londoner is acutus, sharp, or 'cute,— a Yorkshireman acutior, sharper, or more sharp, 'cuter or more 'cute— but a Yankee is acutissimus— sharpest, or most sharp, 'cutest or most 'cute, or tarnation 'cute.

Enumerate, in the manner following, with substantives, the exceptions to this rule, mentioned in the Eton Grammar.

Bonus, good. A plain pudding.

Melior, better. A suet pudding.

Optimus, best. A plum pudding.

Malus, bad. A caning.

Pejor, worse. A spatting.

Pessimus, worst. A flogging. &c. &c.

Adjectives ending in er, form the superlative in errimus. The taste of vinegar is acer, sour; that of verjuice acrior, more sour; the visage of a tee-totaller, acerrimus, sourest, or most sour.

Agilis, docilis, gracilis, facilis, humilis, similis, change is into llimus, in the superlative degree.

Agilis, nimble.— Madlle. Taglioni. Agilior, more nimble.— Jim Crow. Agillimus, most nimble.— Mr. Wieland.

Docilis, docile.— Learned Pig. Docilior, more docile.— Ourang-outang. Docillimus, most docile.— Man Friday.

Gracilis, slender.— A whipping post. Gracilior, more slender.— A fashionable waist. Gracillimus, most slender.— A dustman's leg. &c. &c.

If a vowel comes before us in the nominative case of an adjective, the comparison is made by magis, more, and maxime, most.

Pius, pious.— Dr. Cantwell. Magis pius, more pious.— Mr. Maw-worm. Maxime pius, most pious.— Mr. Stiggins.

Sancho Panza called Don Quixote, Quixottissimus. This was not good Latin, but it evinced a knowledge on Sancho's part, of the nature of the superlative degree.


A pronoun is a substitute, or (as we once heard a lady of the Malaprop family say), a subterfuge for a noun.

There are fifteen Pronouns.

Ego, tu, ille, I, thou, and Billy, Is, sui, ipse, Got very tipsy. Iste, hic, meus, The governor did not see us. Tuus, suus, noster, We knock'd down a coster- Vester, noster, vestras. monger for daring to pester us.

To these may be added, egomet, I myself; tute, thou thyself, idem the same, qui, who or what, and cujas, of what country.


Pronouns concern ourselves so much, that we cannot altogether pass over them; though a hint or two with regard to the mode of learning their declension is all that we can here afford to give. We are constrained now and then to leave out a good deal of valuable matter, for the reason that induced the Dublin manager to omit the part of Hamlet in the play of that name— the length of the performance.

Pronouns may be thus agreeably declined:

Ego, mei, mihi, Hoist the frog up sky-high. Tu, tui, tibi, In Chancery they fib ye. Ille, illa, illud, Cows chew the cud. Is, ea, id, Always do as you're bid. Qui, quae, quod, Or else you'll taste the rod.

Every donkey can decline is, ea, id. We heard one the other day on Hampstead Heath, repeat distinctly

E—o! e—a! e—o!

When you decline quis quae quid, beware of any temptation to indulge in dirty habits. Eschew pig-tail instead of chewing it. Never have any quid in your mouth, but a quid pro quo.


A verb is the chief word in every sentence, as Suspendatur per collum, let him be hanged by the neck.

It expresses the action or being of a thing. Ego sum sapiens, I am a wise man. Tu es stultus, thou art a fool. Non hic amice, pernoctas, you don't lodge here, Mr. Ferguson.

Verbs have two voices, like the gentleman who was singing, a short time since, at the St. James's Theatre.

The active ending in o— as amo, I love.

The passive ending in or— as amor, I am loved.

In these two words is contained the terrestrial summum bonum— In short, love beats everything— cock-fighting not excepted. Amo! amor! How happy every human being, from the peer to the pot-boy, from the duchess to the dairy-maid, would be to be able to say so.

They would conjugate immediately. Except, however, certain modern political economists of the Malthusian school, who, albeit they are great advocates for the diffusion of learning, are violently opposed to unlimited conjugations.

Of verbs ending in o some are actives transitive. A verb is called transitive when the action passes on to the following noun, as Seco baculum meum, I cut my stick.

Numerous examples of this kind of cutting, which may be called a comic section, are recorded in history, both ancient and modern. Even Hector cut his stick (with Achilles after him) at the siege of Troy. The Persians cut their stick at Marathon. Pompey cut his stick at Pharsalia, and so did Antony at Actium. Napoleon Bonaparte cut his stick at Waterloo.

Other verbs ending in o are named neuters and intransitives. A verb is called intransitive, or neuter, when the action does not pass on, or require a following noun, as curro, I run. Pistol cucurrit, Pistol ran. But to say, "Falstaff voluit currere eum per," "Falstaff wished to run him through," would be making a neuter verb, a verb active, and would therefore be Latin of the canine species, or Dog-Latin; so would Meus homo Gulielmus cucurrit caput suum plenum sed contra te homo dic pax, My man William ran his head full but against the mantel-piece. This, it is obvious, will not do after Cicero.

Verbs transitive ending in o become passive by changing o into or, as Secor, I am cut. Caesar was cut by his friend Brutus in the capitol. "This," as Antony very judiciously observed on the hustings, "was the most unkindest cut of all,"— much worse, indeed, than any of the similar operations which are daily performed in Regent Street.

Verbs neuter and intransitive are never made passive. We may say, Crepo, I crack, but we cannot say, Crepor, I am cracked.

The ancient heroes appear, from what Homer says, to have got into a way of cracking away most tremendously when they were going to engage in single combat.

Orestes was certainly cracked.

Some verbs ending in or have an active signification— as Loquor, I speak.

Q. Why are such verbs like witnesses on oath?

A. Because they are called "Deponents."

Of these some few are neuters, as Glorior, I boast.

Caesar boasted that he came, saw, and overcame. Bald-headed people (like Caesar) do not, in general, make conquests so easily.

Neuter Verbs ending in or, and verbs deponent, are declined like verbs passive; but with gerunds and supines like verbs active; thus presenting a curious combination of activity and supineness.

There are some verbs which are called verbs personal. A verb personal resembles a mixed group of old maids and young maids, because it has different persons, as Ego irrideo, I quiz. Tu irrides, thou quizzest.

A verb impersonal is like a collection of tombstone angels, or small children; it has not different persons, as taedet, it irketh, oportet, it behoveth.

It irketh to learn Greek and Latin, nevertheless it behoveth to do so.


Moods in verbs are like moods in man, they have each of them a peculiar expression. Here, however, the resemblance stops. Man has many moods, verbs have but five. For instance, we observe in men the merry mood, the doleful mood, (or dumps), the shy, timid, or sheepish mood, the bold, or bumptious mood, the placid mood, the angry mood, whereto may be added the vindictive mood, and the sulky mood; the sober mood, as contradistinguished from both the serious and the drunken mood; or as blended with the latter, in which case it may be called the sober-drunk mood— the contented mood, the grumbling mood; the sympathetic mood, the sarcastic mood, the idle mood, the working mood, the communicative mood, the secretive mood, and the moods of all the phrenological organs; besides the monitory or mentorial mood, and the mendacious, or lying mood, with the imaginative, poetical, or romantic mood, the compassionate, or melting mood, and many other moods too tedious to mention.

We must not however omit the flirting mood, the teazing or tantalizing mood, the giggling mood, the magging or talkative mood, and the scandalizing mood, which are peculiarly observable in the fair sex.

The moods of verbs are the following:

1. The indicative mood, which either affirms a fact or asks a question, as Ego amo, I do love. Amas tu? Dost thou love?

The long and short of all courtships are contained in these two examples.

2. The imperative mood, which commandeth, or entreateth. This two-fold character of the imperative mood is often exemplified in schools, the command being on the part of the master, and the entreaty on that of the boy— as thus, Veni huc! Come hither! Parce mihi! Spare me! The imperative mood is also known by the sign let— as in the well-known verse in the song Dulce Domum—

"Eja! nunc eamus."

"Hurrah! now let us be off"— meaning for the vacation. N.B. This mood is one much in the mouth of beadles, boatswains, bashaws, majors, magistrates, slave drivers, superintendents, serjeants, and jacks-in-office of all descriptions— monitors, especially, and praefects of public schools, are very fond of using it on all occasions.

3. The potential mood signifies power or duty. The signs by which it is known are, may, can, might, would, could, should, or ought— as, Amem, I may love (when I leave school). Amavissem, I should have loved (if I had not known better,) and the like.

4. The subjunctive differs from the potential only in being always governed by some conjunction or indefinite word, and in being subjoined to some other verb going before it in the same sentence— as Cochleare eram cum amarem, I was a spoon when I loved— Nescio qualis sim hoc ipso tempore, I don't know what sort of a person I am at this very time.

The propriety of the above expression "cochleare," will be explained in a Comic System of Rhetoric, which perhaps may appear hereafter.

5. The infinitive mood is like a gentleman's cab, because it has no number.

We have not made up our minds exactly, whether to compare it to the "picture of nobody" mentioned in the Tempest, or to the "picture of ugliness," which young ladies generally call their successful rivals. It may be like one, or the other, or both, because it has no person.

Neither has it a nominative case before it; nor, indeed, has it any more business with one than a toad has with a side pocket.

It is commonly known by the sign to. As, for example— Amare, to love; Desipere, to be a fool; Nubere, to marry; P[oe]nitere, to repent.


Ever anxious to encourage the expansion of youthful minds, by as general a cultivation as possible of the various faculties, we beg to invite attention to the following combination of Grammar, Poetry, and Music.

Air.— Believe me if all those endearing young charms. —Moore.

The gerunds of verbs end in di, do, and dum, But the supines of verbs are but two; For instance, the active, which endeth in um, And the passive which endeth in u.

Amandi, of loving, kind reader, beware; Amando, in loving, be brief; Amandum, to love, if you 're doom'd, have a care, In the goblet to drown all your grief.

Amatum, Amatu, to love and be loved, Should it be your felicitous (?) lot, May the fuel so needful be never removed Which serves to keep boiling the pot.


In verbs there are five tenses, or times, expressing an action, or affirmation.

1. The present tense, or time. There is no time (or tense) like the present. It expresses an action now taking place. Examples— Act. I love, or am loving. Amo, I am loving. —Pass. I am made drunk, or am drunk. Inebrior, I am drunk.

2. The preterimperfect tense denotes something, or a state of things, partly, but not entirely past. —Examp. I did love or was loving. Amabam, I was loving. I was made drunk an hour ago. Inebriabar, I was made drunk.

3. The preterperfect tense expresses a thing lately done, but now ended. —Examp. I have loved, or I loved. Amavi, I loved. I have been made drunk, or have been drunk. Inebriatus sum, I have been drunk.

4. The preterpluperfect tense refers to a thing done at some time past, but now ended. —Examp. Amaveram, I had loved. Inebriatus eram, I had been drunk.

5. The future tense relates to a thing to be done hereafter, as, Amabo, I shall or will love. Inebriabor, I shall get drunk— say to-morrow.


Verbs have two numbers. No. 1, Singular, No. 2, Plural.

In most matters it is usual to pay exclusive attention to number one. In learning the verbs, however, it is necessary to regard equally number two.— The persons of verbs are generally considered very disagreeable. Verbs have three persons in each number. Thus, for instance, at a dancing academy—

Sing. Ego salto, I dance, Tu saltas, Thou dancest, Ille saltat, He danceth.

Plur. Nos saltamus, We dance, Vos saltatis, Ye dance, Illi saltant, They dance.

At an academy on Free-knowledge-ical principles— or a Comic Academy.

Ego rideo, I laugh, Tu rides, Thou laughest, Ille ridet, He laugheth.

Nos ridemus, We laugh, Vos ridetis. Ye laugh, Illi rident, They laugh.

Laughter, too, is very common at other academies, but generally occurs on the wrong side of the mouth. The right sort of laughter (which may be presumed to be on the right side of the mouth), is most frequent about the time of the holidays. What does the song say?

"Ridet annus, prata rident Nosque rideamus."

"The year laughs, the meadows laugh,— suppose we have a laugh as well."

Note— That all nouns are of the third person except Ego, Nos, Tu, and Vos. Hence we see how absurdly the man who drew a couple of donkeys acted in endeavouring to prevail upon us to call the picture "We Three"— Ille, he,— may, perhaps, have been qualified to make a third person in the group, and have "written himself down an ass" with some correctness. Ego, I, and Nos, we, have certainly nothing in common with that animal, and it is to be hoped that neither Tu, thou, nor Vos, ye, can be said to partake of his nature.

Note also. That all nouns of the vocative case are of the second person. So that if we should say, O asine, O thou donkey; or O asini, O ye donkeys, we should have grammar at least on our side.

Be it your care to prevent us from having justice also.


Before other verbs are declined, it is necessary to learn the verb Esse, to be. And before we teach the verb Esse, to be, it is necessary to make a few remarks on verbs in general.

In the first place we have to observe, that they are rather difficult; and in the next, that if any one expects that we are going to consider them in detail, he is very much mistaken.

But our skipping a very considerable portion of the verbs, is no reason why boys should do the same. Were we all to follow the examples of our teachers, instead of attending to their precepts, where would be the world by this time?

Whirling away, no doubt, far from the respectable society of the neighbouring planets, and blundering about right and left, pell-mell, helter-skelter among the fixed stars— itself, "and all which it inherit" in that glorious state of confusion so admirably described by the poet Ovid—

"Quem dixere Chaos,"

which men have called Shaos. It would indeed be little better than a broken down Shay-horse.

But "revenons a nos moutons," that is, let us get back to our verbs. We recommend the most attentive and diligent study of all of them as set forth in the Eton Grammar, assisted by that kind of association of ideas, of which we shall now proceed to give a few specimens.

Sum, es, fui, esse, futurus, to be,— or not to be— that is the question.

Rule 1. To each person of a verb, singular and plural, join a noun, according to your taste or comic talent. Should you be deficient in the inventive faculty, apply for assistance to one of the senior boys, which, in consideration of your fagging for him, he will readily give you. If yourself a senior boy, apply to the master.



Present Tense. Am.

Sing. Sum, I am, Vir, a man, Es, Thou art, Stultus, a fool, Est, He is, Latro, a thief.

Plu. Sumus, We are, Patricii, gentlemen, Estis, Ye are, Plebeii, snobs, Sunt, They are, Errones, vagabonds.

We would proceed in this way with Sum, but that we are afraid of being tire-sum.


First Conjugation. Amo.

Sing. Amo, I love, Puellam, a lass, Amas, Thou lovest, Fartum, a pudding, Amat, He loveth, Carnem porcinam, pork.

Plu. Amamus, We love, Doctrinam, learning, Amatis, Ye love, Leporem, comicality, Amant, They love, Poesin, poetry.

The consideration of which three things leads us to

Rule 2. In repeating the different tenses of verbs, be careful to be provided with a short English verse, contrived so as to rhyme with the third person singular, and another to rhyme with the third person plural. In this way your powers of composition as well as of memory will be profitably exercised.


Second Conjugation. Moneo.

Sing. Moneo, mones, monet, Reid & Co.'s heavy wet.

Plu. Monemus, monetis, monent, Beats that from the firmament.

Third Conjugation. Rego.

Sing. Rego, regis, regit, A statesman for office unfit.

Plu. Regimus, regitis, regunt, Is much like a bear in a punt.

Rule 3. Should you be desired to give the English of each person in the tense which you are repeating, you may (we mean a class of you), follow a plan adopted with great success and striking effect in that kind of dramatic representation entitled "A Grand Opera," that of singing what you have to say. Hold up your head, turn out your toes, clear your voices, and begin. A-hem!


Fourth Conjugation. Audio.


Sing. Audio, I hear the Tartar drum! Audis, Thou hearest the Tartar drum! Audit, He hears the Tartar drum!— the Tartar drum! the Tartar drum!

Chorus. He hears! He hears!

He h - - e - - - a - - rs the Tar - tar drum! Plu. Audimus, We hear the Tartar drum, &c.


Are regular bores. The above Rules are equally applicable to them, and also to the


Concerning which it may be asserted, that though almost all of them have tenses more or less imperfect, there are some which have not a single Imperfect Tense.


Such as delectat, it delighteth; decet, it becometh, &c., answer to such English verbs as take the word it before them. When we consider that it is a term of endearment used in speaking to babies, as "it's a pretty dear," we cannot help thinking that Verbs Impersonal ought to be pet verbs. Such however, is not, as far as we know, the fact.


A participle is a hybrid part of speech; a kind of mongrel-cross, between a noun and a verb. It is two parts verbs, and four parts noun; wherefore its composition may be likened unto the milk sold in and about London, which is usually watered in the proportion of four to two. The properties of the noun belonging to it, are, number, gender, case, and declension; those of the verb, tense, and signification.

As a horse hath four legs, so hath a verb four participles.

Air.— Bonnets of Blue.

There 's one of the present,— and then, There 's one of the future in rus; Of the tense preterperfect a third,— and again, A fourth of the future in dus.

Participles are declined like nouns adjective, as— but no! how can we ask our fair (blue) readers to decline a-man's (amans) loving.

Now here we feel called upon to say a few words on the difference between a man's loving and a woman's loving. It has often been a question, whether do men or women love most dearly? To us the matter does not appear to admit of a doubt. We defy any of our male readers to be in love (when they are old and silly enough) for six months without finding themselves most grievously out of pocket. We have a friend who was in that unfortunate condition for about a month, and it cost him at least seven and sixpence a week in fees to the maid servant, and that without once being enabled to exchange a word with the object of his affections. At last he began to think that he was paying rather too dear for his whistle; so he gave it up. What girl would have held on so long, and laid out so much money without a return— not of soft affection, but of hard cash? Women, indeed, instead of loving dearly, love, according to our own experience, particularly cheaply. Think of what they save, by taking their admirers "shopping" with them, in ribands, bracelets, and the like, to say nothing of coach-hire, pastry-cooks, and the price of admission, when they go with them to the play. And we should like to hear of the young lady who in these days would dispose of her hand at any thing less than a good round sum if she could help it— no, no. To love dearly is the precious prerogative of the lords of the creation alone.

But we are forgetting our participles.

The participle of the present tense ends in ans, or ens; as Flagellans, whipping; Laedens, hurting.

That of the future in rus, signifies a likelihood, or design of doing something, as Flagellaturus, about to whip; Laesurus, about to hurt.

That of the preterperfect tense has generally a passive signification, and ends in us, as Flagellatus, whipped; Laesus, hurt.

That of the future in dus has also a passive signification, as Flagellandus, to be whipped; Laedendus, to be hurt.

Note 1. All participles are declined like nouns adjective. We recommend the above participles to be declined like winking.

2. There are three things that are not hurt by whipping— a top, a syllabub, and a cream.


Convex and concave spectacles are contrivances used to increase or diminish the magnitude of objects.

Adverbs are parts of speech used to increase or diminish the signification of words.

Spectacles are joined to the bridge of the nose.

Adverbs are joined to nouns adjective, and verbs. Bene, well; multum, much; male, ill, &c. are adverbs.

Caesar multum conturbavit indigenas:

Caesar much astonished the natives.


A conjunction is a part of speech that joineth together; wherefore it may be likened unto many things; for instance—

To glue, to paste, to gum arabic, to mortar, (for it joins words and sentences together like bricks), to Roman cement, (Latin conjunctions more especially), to white of egg, to isinglass, to putty, to adhesive plaster, to matrimony.

Conjunctions are thus used.

Ova et lardum, eggs and bacon. Dimidium dimidiumque, half-and-half. Amor et dementia, love and madness.


A Preposition is a part of speech commonly set before another word. Words, however, do not eat each other, though men have been known to eat words. Ab, ad, ante, &c. prepositions.

Sometimes a preposition is joined in composition with another word, as prostratus, knocked down— floored.

Tullius ab aquario prostratus est:

Tully was knocked down by a waterman.


An interjection is a word expressing a sudden emotion or feeling, as Hei! Oh dear!— Heu! Lack-a-day!— Hem! Brute, Hollo! Brutus.— Euge! Tite, Bravo! Titus.

We here find ourselves approaching the delightful subject of the three Concords, with which we shall make short work, first, for fear of further Accidence, and, secondly, because we are no fonder than boys are of repetitions, which, were we to follow the Eton Grammar in the Concords, we should be obliged to make in the Syntax.

However, there are just one or two points to be mentioned.

Rule. (Text-hand copy-books.) "Ask no questions."

Exception. When you want to find where the concord should be, ask the following—

Who? or what?— to find the nominative case to the verb.

Whom? or what? with the verb, for the accusative after it.

Who? or what? with the adjective, for the substantive to the adjective.

Who? or what? with the verb, for the antecedent to the relative.

But remember, that the use of the interrogatives who? and what? however justifiable in grammar, is very impertinent in conversation. What, for example, can be more ill-bred than to say, Who are you? Indeed, most questions are ill mannered. We do not speak of such expressions as, Has your mother sold her mangle? and the like, used only by persons who have never asked themselves where they expect to go to? but of all unnecessary demands whatever. "Sir," said the great Dr. Johnson, "it is uncivil to be continually asking, Why is a dog's tail short, or why is a cow's tail long."


Commonly known by the name of

"Propria Quae Maribus."

As the "Propria Quae Maribus" is no joke, and the "As in Praesenti" is too much of a joke, we must do with them as we did with the verbs. Singing a song is always esteemed a valid substitute for telling a story; and the indulgence which we would have extended to us in this respect, is that universally granted to civilized society.

Let the "Propria Quae Maribus" be turned into a series of exercises, thus, or in like manner—

Air.— "Here 's to the maiden of bashful fifteen."

All names of the male kind you masculine call, Ut sunt (for example), Divorum, Mars, Bacchus, Apollo, the deities all, And Cato, Virgilius, virorum. Latin 's a bore, and bothers me sore, Oh how I wish that my lesson was o'er.

Fluviorum, ut Tibris, Orontes likewise, Fine rivers in ocean that lost are, And Mensium— October an instance supplies; Ventorum, ut Libs, Notus, Auster. Latin 's a bore, &c.

We do not pretend that the mode of study here recommended, is perfectly original. The genuine Propria Quae Maribus, and As in Praesenti, like the writings of the most remote antiquity, consist of certain useful truths recorded in harmonious numbers. It has been a question among commentators, whether these interesting compositions were originally intended to be said or sung. Analogy (we mean that derived from the works of Homer and Virgil) would incline us to the latter opinion, which however does not appear to have been generally entertained in the schools. We shall give one more specimen in the above style; and we beg it may be remembered, that in so doing, we have no wish to detract in any way from the merit of the illustrious poet in the Eton Grammar; all we think is, that he might have introduced a little more comicality into his work, while he was about it.


Otherwise the "As in Praesenti."

As in Praesenti— Preterperfect— avi, Oh! send me well done, lean, and lots of gravy, Save lavo, lavi, nexo, nexui. Ah! me— how sweet is cream with apple-pie, Juvi from juvo, secui from seco, Could n't I lie and tipple, more Graeco! From neco, necui, and mico, word Which micui makes, Oh! roast goose, lovely bird! Plico which plicui gives. Delightful grub! And frico, fricas, fricui, to rub— So domo, tono, domui, tonui make. And sono, sonui.— Lead me to the stake, I mean the beef-stake— crepo, crepui too, Which means to crack (as roasted chestnuts do,) Then veto, vetui makes— forbidding sound, Cubo, to lie along (these verbs confound Ye gods) makes cubui, do gives rightly dedi; What viler object than a coat that 's seedy?— Sto to form steti has a predilection; Well— let it if it likes, I've no objection. &c. &c. &c.


or the Construction of Grammar.

Q. What part of the grammar resembles the indulgences sold in the middle ages?

A. Sin-tax.


Where there is much personality, there is generally little concord.

However, a verb personal agrees with its nominative case in number and person, as Sera nunquam est ad bonos mores via, The way to good manners is never too late. Mind that, brother Jonathan.

Note— The above maxim is especially worthy of the attention of neophytes in law and medicine; of the gods in the gallery, and of Members of the House.

The nominative case of pronouns is rarely expressed, except for the sake of distinction or emphasis, as—

Tu es exquisitus, tu es,

You 're a nice man, you are.

Sometimes a sentence is the nominative case to the verb, as

Ingenuas pugni didicisse fideliter artes, Mollitos mores non sinit esse viri.

The faithful study of the fistic art From mawkish softness guards a Briton's heart.


Who can doubt it? But, besides, we have much to say in praise of boxing. In the first place, it is a classical accomplishment. To say nothing of the Olympic and Isthmian Games, which are of themselves sufficient proof of the elegant and fanciful tastes of the ancients; we need only allude to the fact, that the Corinthians are universally celebrated for their proficiency in this science. Then, of its eminently social tendency, there can be no doubt. What can be more conducive to good fellowship, and conviviality than the frequent tapping of claret, attendant both on its study and practice? Nor can its beneficial influence on the fine arts be called in question, seeing that its immediate object is to teach us the use of our hands. And (which perhaps is the most pursuasive argument of all), it is particularly pleasing to the fair sex, who besides their well known admiration of bravery, are, to a woman, devotedly attached to the ring.

Sometimes an adverb with a genitive case stands in the place of the nominative, as—

Partim astutorum mordebantur,

Part of the knowing ones were bit.

We must contend that the above is a racy observation.


Verbs of the infinitive mood— but hold. Remember that there is scarcely any rule without an exception; and this axiom particularly applies to the Syntax. We used to wish it did not; because then we should not have had so much to learn— to resume however—

Verbs of the infinitive mood often have set before them an accusative case instead of a nominative; the conjunction quod, or ut, being left out, as

Annam reginam aiunt occubuisse:

They say that Queen Anne's dead.

A verb placed between two nominative cases of different numbers, is not like a donkey between two stacks of hay, it makes choice of one or the other, and agrees with it, as

Amygdalae amarae venenum est,

Bitter almonds is poison.

We have written the English beneath the Latin. Perhaps it may be imagined that we think good English beneath us.

A singular noun of multitude is sometimes joined to a plural verb; as

Pars puerorum philosophum secuti sunt,

Part of the boys followed the philosopher.

And so they would now, particularly if they saw one in costume.

Verbs impersonal have no nominative case before them, as

Taedet me Grammatices, I am weary of Grammar.

Pertaesum est Syntaxeos, I am quite sick of Syntax.

Mirificum visum est Socratem in gyrum saltantem videre,

It seemed wonderful to behold Socrates jumping Jim Crow.


Adjectives, participles, and pronouns agree with the substantive in gender, number, and case, as

Vir exiguo conventui, sobrioque idoneus:

A nice man for a small tea-party.

The Spartans, probably, were men of this kind; their aversion to drunkenness being well known.

Observe how close the concord is between substantive and adjective. The ties of wedlock are nothing to it; for, besides that in that happy state there is very often not a little discord, it is quite impossible that man and wife should ever agree in gender.

Sometimes a sentence supplies the place of a substantive; the adjective being placed in the neuter gender, as

Audito reginam leones c[oe]nantes visisse:

It being heard that Her Majesty had gone to see the lions at supper.


The relative and antecedent hit it off very well together; they agree one with the other in gender, number, and person, as

Qui plenos haurit cyathos, madidusque quiescit, Ille bonam degit vitam, moriturque facetus.

"He who drinks plenty, and goes to bed mellow, Lives as he ought to do, and dies a jolly fellow."

Horace was the fellow for this kind of thing. Cato must have been a regular wet blanket.

Sometimes a sentence is placed for an antecedent, as

Heliogabalus, spiritu contento, viginti quatuor ostrearum demersit in alvum, quod Dandoni etiam longe antecellit.

Heliogabalus, at one breath, swallowed two dozen of oysters, which beats even Dando out and out.

Many of the ancients could swallow a good deal.

A relative placed between two substantives of different genders and numbers, sometimes agrees with the latter, as

Pueri tuentur illum librum quae Latina Grammatices et Comica dicitur.

Boys regard that book which is called the Comic Latin Grammar.

Sometimes a relative agrees with the primitive, which is understood in the possessive, as

Mirabantur impudentiam suam qui ad reginam literas misit.

They wondered at his impudence, who wrote a letter to the queen.

If a nominative case be interposed between the relative and the verb, the relative is governed by the verb, or by some other word which is placed in the sentence with the verb, as

Luciferi quos Prometheus surripuit, ad Jovem cujus numen contempsit, pertinebant.

The Lucifers which Prometheus shirked, belonged to Jupiter, whose authority he despised.

In fact, Prometheus made light of Jupiter's lightning.

We now take leave of the Concords, observing only how pleasant it is to see relatives agree.


Our next subject is the


Which is not quite so amusing as the construction of small boats, paper kites, pinwheels, crackers, or any other mode of displaying the faculty of "constructiveness"— though in one sense the construction of nouns substantive, is not unlike the construction of puzzles.

When two substantives of a different signification meet together, the latter is put in the genitive case, as

Ulysses lumen Cyclopis extinxit:

Ulysses doused the glim of the Cyclops.

This genitive case is sometimes changed into a dative, as

Urbi pater est, urbique maritus. —Gram. Eton.

He is the father of the city, and the husband of the city.

He must have been a pretty fellow, whoever he was.

An adjective of the neuter gender, put without a substantive, sometimes requires a genitive case, as

Paululum honestatis sartori sufficit:

A very little honesty is enough for a tailor.

A genitive case is sometimes placed alone; the preceding substantive being understood by the figure ellipsis, as

Ubi ad magistri veneris, cave verbum de porco:

When you are come to the master's (house), not a word about the pig.

The word pig is a very general term, and is used to signify not only the animal so called, and such of the human race as resemble him in habits, appearance, or feelings; but also to denote a variety of little things, which it is sometimes necessary to keep secret. A pedagogue now and then discovers a pig-tail appended to his coat collar— this, or rather the way in which it got there, is one of the little pigs in question. Robbing the larder or the garden is another; so is insinuating horse-hairs into the cane, or putting cobbler's wax on the seat of learning — we mean the master's stool. A sort of pig (or rather a rat) is sometimes smelt by the master on taking his nightly walk though the dormitories, when roast fowl, mince pies, bread and cheese, shrub, punch, &c. have been slyly smuggled into those places of repose. Shirking down town is always a pig, and the consequences thereof, in case of discovery, a great bore.

Considering that a secret is a pig, it is singular that betraying one should be called letting the cat out of the bag.


Two substantives respecting the same thing are put in the same case, as

Telemachum, juvenem bonae indolis, Calypso existimavit.

Calypso thought Telemachus a nice young man.

By the way, what a nice young man Virgil makes out Marcellus to have been!

Praise, dispraise, or the quality of a thing is placed in the ablative, and also in the genitive case— as

Vir paucorum verborum et magni appetitus:

A man of few words and large appetite.

Paterfamilias. Vir multis miseriis:

A father of a family. A man of many woes.

The man of most woes, however, is a hackney-coachman.

Opus, need, and usus, need, require an ablative case, as

Didoni marito opus erat;

Dido had need of a husband.

AEneae c[oe]na usus erat;

AEneas had need of a dinner.

But opus appears to be sometimes placed like an adjective for necessarius, necessary, as

Regi Anthropophagorum coquus opus est:

The King of the Cannibal Islands wants a cook.

Which would serve his purpose best— a valet-de-chambre who dresses men, or a wit, who roasts them?



Adjectives which signify desire, knowledge, memory, fear, and the contrary to these, require a genitive case, as

Est natura vetularum obtrectationis avida:

The nature of old women is fond of scandal.

This particularly applies to old maids. As those delightful creatures now-a-days, not content with being grey aspire to be actually blue; we cannot help recommending to them a kind of study, for which their propensity to cutting up renders them peculiarly adapted; we mean Anatomy. And since it is on the foulest and most odious points of character that they chiefly delight to dwell, we more especially suggest to them the pursuit of Morbid Anatomy, as one which is likely to be attended both with gratification and success.

Mens tempestatum praescia:

A mind foreknowing the weather.

A piece of sea-weed has often, heretofore, been used as a barometer; but it is only of late that this purpose has been answered by a murphy.

Immemor beneficii:

Unmindful of a kindness.

The sort of kindness one is least likely to forget is that which our master used to say he conferred upon us, when he was inculcating learning by means of the rod. We cannot help thinking, however, that he began at the wrong end.

Imperitus rerum:

Unacquainted with the world, i.e. Not 'up to snuff'.

Much controversy has been wasted in attempts to determine the origin of the phrase "up to snuff". Some have contended that it was suggested by the well-known quality possessed by snuff, of clearing the head; but this idea is far fetched, not to say absurd. Others will have that the expression was derived from Snofe, or Snoffe, the name of a cunning rogue who flourished about the time of the first crusade; so that "up to Snoffe" signified as clever, or knowing, as Snoffe; and was in process of time converted into "up to snuff." This opinion is deserving of notice; though the only argument in its favour is, that the phrase in question was in vogue long before the discovery of tobacco. Probably the soundest view is that which connects it with the proper name Znoufe, which in ancient High-Dutch is equivalent to Mercury, whose reputation for astuteness among the ancients was exceedingly great. Conf. Hookey-Walk, ii. 13. Hok. Pok. Wonk-Fum. viii. 24. Cheek. Marin. passim, with a host of commentators, ancient and modern.

Roscius timidus Deorum fuit:

Roscius was afraid of the Gods.

Adjectives ending in ax, derived from verbs, also require a genitive case, as

Tempus edax rerum:

Time is the consumer of all things.

Hence Time is sometimes figured as an alderman.

Nouns partitive, nouns of number, nouns comparative and superlative, and certain adjectives put partitively, require a genitive case, from which also they take their gender; as

Utrum horum mavis accipe:

Take which of those two things you had rather.

So Queen Eleanor gave Fair Rosamond her choice between the dagger and the bowl of poison. This, to our mind, would have been like choosing a tree to be hanged on.

Primus fidicinum fuit Orpheus:

Orpheus was the first of fiddlers.

He is said to have charmed the hearts of broomsticks.

Momus lepidissimus erat Deorum:

Momus was the funniest of the Gods.

Other deities may have made Jupiter shake his head. Momus used to make him shake his sides.

Sequimur te, sancte deorum:

We follow thee, O sacred deity.

Namely, the aforesaid Momus. He is the only heathen god that we should have had much reverence for, and certainly the only one that we should ever have sacrificed to at all. The offering most commonly made to the god of laughter was, probably, a sacrifice of propriety.

But the above nouns are also used with these prepositions, a, ab, de, e, ex, inter, ante; as,

Primus inter philosophos Democritus est:

Democritus is the first amongst philosophers.

And why? Because he alone was wise enough to find out that laughing is better than crying. He it was who first proved to the world that philosophy and comicality are, in fact, one science; and that the more we learn the more we laugh. We forget whether it was he or Aristotle who made the remark, that man is the only laughing animal except the hyaena.

Secundus sometimes requires a dative case, as

Haud ulli veterum virtute secundus:

Inferior to none of the ancients in valour.

Surely Virgil in saying this, had an eye to a hero, whose fame has been perpetuated in the verses of a later poet.

"Some talk of Alexander, and some of Pericles, Of Conon and Lysander, and Alcibiades; But of all the gallant heroes, there 's none for to compare, With my ri-fol-de-riddle-iddle-lol to the British grenadier!"

An interrogative, and the word which answers to it, shall be of the same case and tense, except words of a different construction be made use of; as

Quarum rerum nulla est satietas? Pomorum.

Of what things is there no fulness? Of fruit.

Dr. Johnson used to say that he never got as much wall fruit as he could eat.


Adjectives by which advantage, disadvantage, likeness, unlikeness, pleasure, submission, or relation to any thing is signified, require a dative case; as

Astaci incocti patriae idonei sunt in pace; cocti autem in bello.

Raw lobsters are serviceable to their country in peace; but boiled ones in war.

Lobster's claws are nasty things to get into.

The Corporation of London seemed very much afraid of the Police clause.

One of the reasons why a soldier is sometimes called a lobster, probably is, that the latter is a marine animal.

Balaenae persimile:

Very like a whale.

Qui color albus erat nunc est contrarius albo:

The colour which was white is now contrary to white.

Some people will swear white is black to gain their ends; and a man who will do this, though he may not always be—

Jucundus amicis:

Pleasant to his friends;

is nevertheless frequently so to his constituents.

Hither are referred nouns compounded of the preposition con, as contubernalis, a comrade; commilito, a fellow soldier, &c. You must con all such words attentively before you can construe well, or the consequence will be, that you will be considerably blown up, if not confoundedly flogged.

Some of these which signify similitude, are also joined to a genitive case, as

Par uncti fulminis:

Like greased lightning.

The familiarity of our transatlantic friends with the nature of the electric fluid, is no doubt owing to the discoveries of their countryman Franklin. Q. Was the lightning which that philosopher drew down from the clouds, of the kind mentioned in the example?

Communis, common; alienus, strange; immunis, free, are joined to a genitive, dative, and also to an ablative case, with a preposition, as

Aures longae communes asinorum sunt:

Long ears are common to asses.

Though musical ears are not. We even doubt whether they would have the slightest admiration for Bray-ham.

Non sunt communes caudae hominibus:

Tails are not common to men.

Except coat-tails, shirt-tails, pig-tails, and rats'-tails— to which en-tails may perhaps also be added, though these last are often cut off.

Non alienus a poculo cerevisiae:

Not averse to a pot of beer.

We should think we were not; and should as soon think of engaging in an unnatural quarrel with our bread and butter.

Natus, born; commodus, convenient; incommodus, inconvenient; utilis, useful; inutilis, useless; vehemens, earnest; aptus, fit, are sometimes also joined to an accusative case with a preposition, as

Natus ad laqueum:

Born to a halter.

Those who are reserved for this exalted destiny, are said to enjoy a peculiar immunity from drowning. Is this the reason why watermen are such a set of rogues?

To prevent mistakes, it should be mentioned, that the watermen here meant are those who, by their own account, are so called from their office being to shut the doors of hackney coaches.

Verbal adjectives ending in bilis, taken passively, and participles made adjectives ending in dus, require a dative case; as

Nulli penetrabilis astro;

Penetrable by no star

not fond of acting?

O venerande mihi Liston! te luget Olympus:

O Liston, to be venerated by me the Olympic bewails thee.


The measure of quantity is put after adjectives, in the accusative, the ablative, and the genitive case, as

Anguis centum pedes longus:

A snake a hundred feet long.

Arbor gummifera, alta mille et quingentis passibus.

A gum-tree a mile and a half high.

Aranea, lata pedum denum:

A spider ten feet broad.

An accusative case is sometimes put after adjectives and participles, where the preposition secundum, appears to be understood, as

Os humerosque asello similis:

Like to a cod-fish as to his head and shoulders.

Some men are exceedingly like a cod-fish, as to their head and shoulders, and they often endeavour to increase this natural resemblance as much as possible, by wearing gills.


Adjectives which relate to plenty or want, sometimes require an ablative, sometimes a genitive case, as

Amor et melle et felle est f[oe]cundissimus:

Love is very full both of honey and gall.

The honey of love is— we do not know exactly what. Honey, however, is Latin for love, as the Irishman said.

The gall of love consists in

First. Tight boots, in which it is often necessary to do penance before our Lady's window. This is at all events very galling.

Secondly. In lover's sighs, to which it communicates their peculiar bitterness.

Thirdly. Another very galling thing in love is being cut out.

Fourthly. Love is one of the passions treated of by Gall and Spurzheim.

Adjectives and substantives govern an ablative case, signifying the cause and the form, or the manner of a thing, as

Demosthenes vociferatione raucus erat:

Demosthenes was hoarse with bawling.

Nomine grammaticus, re barbarus:

A grammarian in name; in reality a barbarian.

Like many of the old masters— we do not mean painters— though we certainly allude to brothers of the brush— perhaps it would be better to call them brothers of the angle, on account of their partiality to the rod. Does the reader twig? If so, it is unnecessary to branch out into a discussion with regard to the nature of the barbarity hinted at— a kind of barbarity which, though it may proclaim its perpetrators to be by no means allied to the feline race, connects them most decidedly with the canine species.

Dignus, worthy; indignus, unworthy; praeditus, endued; captus, disabled; contentus, content; extorris, banished; fretus, relying upon; liber, free; with adjectives signifying price, require an ablative case, as

Leander dignus erat meliore fato:

Leander was worthy of a better fate.

Poor fellow! first to be head over ears in love, and then over head and ears in the sea! Shocking! What an heroic young man he must have been.— What a duck, too, the fair Hero must have thought him as she watched him from her lonely tower, nearing her every moment, as he cleft with lusty arm the foaming herring-pond. We mean the Hellespont— but no matter. What a goose he must have been considered by any one else who happened to know of his nightly exploits! How miserably he was gulled at last! Never mind. If Leander went to the fishes for love, many a better man than he, has, before and since, gone, from the same cause, to the dogs.

Conscientia procuratoris solidis sex, denariis octo, venale est;

A lawyer's conscience is to be sold for six and eightpence.

Some of these, sometimes admit a genitive case, as

Carmina digna deae:

Verses worthy of a goddess.

Whether the following verses are worthy of a goddess or not, we shall not attempt to decide; they were addressed to one at all events— at least to a being who, if idolizing constitutes a goddess, may, perhaps, be termed one. We met with them in turning over the pages of an album.


Lovely maid, with rapture swelling, Should these pages meet thine eye, Clouds of absence soft dispelling; Vacant memory heaves a sigh.

As the rose, with fragrance weeping, Trembles to the tuneful wave, So my heart shall twine unsleeping, Till it canopies the grave!

Though another's smiles requited, Envious fate my doom should be: Joy for ever disunited, Think, ah! think, at times on me!

Oft amid the spicy gloaming, Where the brakes their songs instil, Fond affection silent roaming, Loves to linger by the rill—

There when echo's voice consoling, Hears the nightingale complain, Gentle sighs my lips controlling, Bind my soul in beauty's chain.

Oft in slumber's deep recesses, I thy mirror'd image see; Fancy mocks the vain caresses I would lavish like a bee!

But how vain is glittering sadness! Hark, I hear distraction's knell! Torture gilds my heart with madness! Now for ever fare thee well!

It would be interesting as well as instructive to settle the difference between love verses and nonsense verses, if this were the proper place for doing so. But we are not yet come to the Prosody; nor shall we arrive there very soon unless we get on with the Syntax.

Comparatives, when they may be explained by the word quam, than, require an ablative case, as

Achilles Agamemnone velocior erat:

Achilles was a faster man than Agamemnon.

Fast men in modern times are very apt to outrun the constable.

Tanto, by so much, quanto, by how much, hoc, by this, eo, by this, and quo, by which; with some other words which signify the measure of exceeding; likewise aetate, by age, and natu, by birth, are often joined to comparatives and superlatives, as

Tanto deformissimus, quanto sapientissimus philosophorum.

By so much the ugliest, by how much the wisest of philosophers.

Such an one was Socrates. It is all very well to have a contemplative disposition; but it need not be accompanied by a contemplative nose.

Quo plus habent, eo plus cupiunt:

The more they have the more they want.

This is a curious fact in the natural history of school-boys, considered in relation to roast beef and plum pudding.

Maximum aetate virum in tota Kentuckia contudi:

I whopped the oldest man in all Kentucky.


All those who would understand the construction of pronouns, should take care to be well versed in the distinction between meum and tuum, ignorance of which often gives rise to the disagreeable necessity of becoming too intimately acquainted with quod.

Mei, of me, tui, of thee, sui, of himself, nostri, of us, vestri, of you, (the genitive cases of their primitives ego, tu, &c.) are used when a person is signified, as

Languet desiderio tui:

He languishes for want of you.

You cannot give a more acceptable piece of information than the above, to any young lady. The fairer and more amiable sex always like to have something— if not to love, at least to pity.

Parsque tui lateat corpore clausa meo. —Eton Gram.

And a part of you may lie shut up in my body.

Or rather may it so lie! How forcibly a sucking pig hanging up outside a pork-butcher's shop always recals this beautiful line of Ovid's to the mind!

Meus, mine, tuus, thine, suus, his own (Cocknice his'n), noster, ours, vester, yours, are used when action, or the possession of a thing is signified; as

Qui bona quae non sunt sua furtim subripit, ille Tempore quo capitur, carcere clausus erit:

Him as prigs wot isn 't his'n, Ven he's cotch'd 'll go to pris'n.

These possessive pronouns, meus, tuus, suus, noster, and vester, take after them these genitive cases,— ipsius, of himself, solius, of him alone, unius, of one, duorum, of two, trium, of three, &c., omnium, of all, plurium, of more, paucorum, of few, cujusque, of every one, and also the genitive cases of participles, which are referred to the primitive word understood; as

Meis unius impensis pocula sex exhausi:

I drank six pots to my own cheek.

We wonder that any one should have the face to say so.

Sui and suus are reciprocal pronouns, that is, they have always relation to that which went before, and was most to be noted in the sentence, as—

Jonathanus nimium admiratur se:

Jonathan admires himself too much.

Parcit erroribus suis, He spares his own errors.

Magnopere Jonathanus rogat ne se derideas, Jonathan earnestly begs that you would not laugh at him.

If you do, take care that he does not blow you up one of these fine days.

These demonstrative pronouns, hic, iste, and ille are thus distinguished: hic points out the nearest to me; iste him who is by you; ille him who is at a distance from both of us.

In making game of the Syntax, we regard them as pointers.

When hic and ille are referred to two things or persons going before, hic generally relates to the latter, ille to the former, as

Richardus Thomasque suum de more bibebant, Ebrius hic vappis, ebrius ille mero:

Both Dick and Tom caroused away like swine, Tom drunk with swipes, and Dicky drunk with wine.



Verbs substantive, as sum, I am, forem, I might be, fio, I am made, existo, I am; verbs passive of calling, as nominor, I am named, appellor, I am called, dicor, I am said, vocor, I am called, nuncupor, I am named, and the like to them, as videor, I am seen, habeor, I am accounted, existimor, I am thought, have the same cases before and after them, as

Adeps viridis est summum bonum:

Green fat is the chief good.

Even among the ancients, turtles were the emblems of love; which, next to eating and drinking, has always been the first object of human pursuit. This fact proves, very satisfactorily, two things, first, their proficiency in the science of gastronomy; and, secondly, their extreme susceptibility of the tender passion.

Pileus vocatur tegula:

A hat is called a tile.

Likewise all verbs in a manner admit after them an adjective, which agrees with the nominative case of the verb, in case, gender, and number, as

Pii orant taciti. —Eton Gram.

The pious pray silently.

Is this a sly rap at the Quakers?


Sum requires a genitive case as often as it signifies possession, duty, sign, or that which relates to any thing; as

Quod rapidam trahit AEtatem pecus est Melib[oe]i,

The cattle wot drags the Age, fast coach, is Melib[oe]us's.

Alas! that such an Age should be banished by the Age of rail-roads!— let us hear the


Air.— "Oh give me but my Arab steed."

Farewell my ribbons, and, alack! Farewell my tidy drag; Mail-coach-men now have got the sack, And engineers the bag.

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