In style to explain the true character of note-writing--how compressed and unrambling and direct it ought to be, and _illustrate_ by the villainous twaddle of many Shakespearian notes. _Syllogism._--In the _Edin. Advertiser_ for Friday, January 25, 1856, a passage occurs taken from _Le Nord_ (or _Journal du Nord_), or some paper whose accurate title I do not know, understood to be Russian in its leanings, which makes a most absurd and ignorant use of this word. The Allies are represented as addressing an argument to Russia, amounting, I think, to this, viz.: that, in order to test her sincerity, would it not be well for Russia at once to cede such insulated points of territory as were valuable to Russia or suspicious to the Allies simply as furnishing means for invasion of Turkey? And this argument is called a _syllogism_. '_Laid in wait_ for him.'--This false phrase occurs in some article (a Crimea article, I suppose) in the same _Advertiser_ of January 25. And I much doubt whether any ordinary ear would reconcile itself to _lay in wait_ (as a _past_ tense) even when instructed in its propriety. Those Scotticisms are worst which are nonsensical, as _e.g._: 'Whenever he died Fully more.' _Timeous_ and _dubiety_ are bad, simply as not authorized by any but local usage. A word used only in Provence or amongst the Pyrenees could not be employed by a classical French writer, except under a _caveat_ and for a special purpose. Plent_y_, used under the absurd misleading of its terminal 'y' as an adjective. _Alongst_, remember _of_; able _for_, the worse _of_ liquor, to call _for, to go the length_ of, as applied to a distance; 'I don't think _it_,' instead of 'I don't think _so_.' In the _Lady's Newspaper_ for Saturday, May 8, 1852 (No. 280), occurs the very worst case of exaggerated and incredible mixed silliness and vulgarity connected with the use of _assist_ for _help_ at the dinner-table that I have met with. It occurs in the review of a book entitled 'The Illustrated London Cookery Book,' by Frederick Bishop. Mr. Bishop, it seems, had 'enjoyed the office of cuisinier at the Palace, and among some of our first nobility.' He has, by the way, an introductory 'Philosophy of Cookery.' Two cases occur of this matchless absurdity: 1. An ideal carver is described: he, after carving, 'is as cool and collected as ever, and _assists_ the portions he has carved with as much grace as he displayed in carving the fowl.' 2. Further on, when contrasting, not the carvers, but the things _to be_ carved, coming to '_Neck of Veal_,' he says of the carver: 'Should the vertebrae have not been jointed by the butcher, you would find yourself in the position of the ungraceful carver, being compelled to exercise a degree of strength which should never be suffered to appear, very possibly, too, _assisting_ gravy in a manner not contemplated by the person unfortunate enough to receive it.'