Gentlemen, forbear! The sentence I began Is this. The subject of my speech is “slang;” We need Reform, a radical reform; we ought to teach The Saxon, Lindley Murray parts of speech, Use sparingly flash words imported from abroad, Not always echoing the late Artemus Ward. We want to root out words that pass as English in the town, Learn lessons from, not imitate, a Sketchley’s “Mrs. Brown.” We ought to cry down common phrases such as these— “It’s all my eye,” I’m certain that is “not the cheese.” ’Twere better for a boy or girl to sit quite still and dumb Than call their Father “Governor,” or Mother “Mum.” Some call their fellows “bloke,” or “thing,” or “cove,” Appeal to Jingo, Gimini, and George, and Jove; Are “awfully” delighted, or “hideously” pleased, Are suited “all to pieces,” or “villanously” teased. If any man is tipsy they say he’s “screwed,” or “tight;” Is any one ill-dressed? then he’s a “horrid fright;” If one’s removed, he’s “mizzled,” “hooked it,” or else “cut;” If any one is crazy, then he’s “off his nut;” If appetite is bad, a man is “off his chump;” Who pays for anything, must first “shell out,” or “stump.” And so on—I might give a hundred sayings more, But you would think me green, or p’raps a “bore.” Yet, gentlemen, I cannot take my seat until I stoutly say These slang expressions spoil the converse of our day. They make young people flippant, loose in thought and speech, And not worse English than worse morals do they teach, For serious subjects have their slang expressions, but I dare Not quote them here, so, Mr. Speaker, I forbear. Yet ere I take my seat, I trust, my honourable friends, you will Bring in the measure I propose in your forthcoming Bill. Mr. OSWALD LAYTON. Mr. Speaker, gentlemen, a certain sage Was pleased to call our present time the iron age; I will not argue on that point, but let it pass, It seems to me the present is the age of brass. At borrowed phrases the last speaker made a shy In borrowed jokes allow me to reply— Well, that the speech last heard was sound, it cannot be denied, Grant that, and then it will be found, it’s little else beside. The speech, no doubt, will be immortal of our friend, For he who hears it, hears it to no end. (_Mr. W. Stanley, hear! hear!_)