“And what to me thus pining for some one to page me a quotation from Burton on Blue-Devils.” V. I. p. 15. What is _paging_ a quotation? “Anoint the ropes and they will travel deftly through the subtle windings of the blocks.” p. 33. Why not say—“apply some oleaginous substance to the ambulatory cords, and prevent the inarticulate dissonance caused by the inharmonious attrition of the flaxen fibres against the ligneous particles?” But this passage I especially commend: “Good old Arcturion! Maternal craft, that rocked me so often in thy heart of oak, I grieve to tell how I deserted thee on the broad deep. (‘Maternal craft—maternal old oaken-hearted craft—maternal old oaken-cradle hearted craft’ is good!) So far from home, with such a motley crew, so many islands, whose heathen babble _echoing through thy Christian hull must have grated harshly on every carline_.” p. 38. “Many there are who can fall,” says Martinus Scriblerius, “but few can arrive at the felicity of falling gracefully.” How beautifully he embellishes the most commonplace ideas: “Among savages, severe personal injuries are, for the most part, accounted but trifles. When a European would be taking to his couch in despair _the savage would disdain to recline_.” p. 96. “At Ravavai I had stepped ashore some few months previous; and now was embarked on a cruise for the whale, _whose brain enlightens the world_!” p. 1. Jarl steals a keg of tobacco— “From the Arcturion he had brought along with him a small half-keg, at bottom impacted with a solitary layer of sable Negrohead, fossil-marked, like the primary stratum of the geologists.” (Ahem! primary stratum _fossil_-marked!) p. 68. He surmiseth that Samoa likes to get swipesy— “Nor did I doubt but that the Upoluan, like all Polynesians, much loved getting high of head; and in that state would be more intractable than a Black Forest boar.” Sometimes he breaks into hexameter: “In the verdant glen of Ardair, far in the silent interior of Amma, Shut in by hoar old cliffs, Yillah the maiden abode.” This reminds one of Evangeline— “In the Acadian land, on the shores of the basin of Minos, Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand Pré Lay in the fruitful valley.” Let us hexametrize another passage, and we will have done with these fopperies: “’Tis no great valor to perish sword in hand, and bravado On lip; cased all in panoply complete. For even the alli- Gator dies in his mail, and the sword-fish never surrenders. To expire, mild-eyed, in one’s bed, transcends the death of Epam-Inondas.” p. 46.