a Bosom Friend."
"Letters from a Father to a Son, inculcating the Virtue of Vice."
"Pastorals by a Younger Son."
"A Catalogue of Chieftains who have been Authors, by a Chieftain,
who disdains to be deemed an Author."
"A Canto on a Cough caught by my Consort."
"The Philosophy of Honesty, by a late Lord, who died in disgrace."

And theological works:--
"Pepper for the Perverse."
"Pudding for the Pious."
"Pleas for Pardon."
"Pickles for the Persecuted."

And long and tedious romances with short and easy titles:--
"The Buck."
"The Belle."
"The King and the Cook, or the Cook and the King."

And books of voyages:--
"A Sojourn among the Anthropophagi, by One whose Hand was
eaten off at Tiffin among the Savages."
"Franko: its King, Court, and Tadpoles."
"Three Hours in Vivenza, containing a Full and Impartial Account
of that Whole Country: by a Subject of King Bello."

And works of nautical poets:--
"Sky-Sail-Pole Lyrics."

And divers brief books, with panic-striking titles:--
"Are you safe?"
"A Voice from Below."
"Hope for none."
"Fire for all."

And pamphlets by retired warriors:--
"On the Best Gravy for Wild Boar's Meat."
"Three Receipts for Bottling New Arrack."
"To Brown Bread Fruit without Burning."
"Advice to the Dyspeptic."
"On Starch for Tappa."

All these MSS. were highly prized by Oh-Oh. He averred, that they
spoke of the mighty past, which he reverenced more than the paltry
present, the dross and sediment of what had been.

Peering into a dark crypt, Babbalanja drew forth a few crumbling,
illegible, black-letter sheets of his favorite old essayist, brave
Bardianna. They seemed to have formed parts of a work, whose title
only remained--"Thoughts, by a Thinker."

Silently Babbalanja pressed them to his heart. Then at arm's length
held them, and said, "And is all this wisdom lost? Can not the divine
cunning in thee, Bardianna, transmute to brightness these sullied
pages? Here, perhaps, thou didst dive into the deeps of things,
treating of the normal forms of matter and of mind; how the particles
of solids were first molded in the interstices of fluids; how the
thoughts of men are each a soul, as the lung-cells are each a lung;
how that death is but a mode of life; while mid-most is the Pharzi.--
But all is faded. Yea, here the Thinker's thoughts lie cheek by jowl
with phras