ning,
that Cupid, perceiving that the beaux of the time were proof against his
darts, had now laid down his bow and conquered by 'gunning.' But perhaps
the best thing of the sort ever composed was Lord Lyttelton's tribute to
Lady Brown:

'When I was young and debonair,
The brownest nymph to me was fair;
But now I'm old and wiser grown,
The fairest nymph to me is Brown.'

Other celebrities could be named who came off badly in their encounter
with the punsters. But, indeed, the list of such jests might be
indefinitely extended, for the habit of making puns on patronymics has
always been very widely spread, and has found many a sympathetic
historian.

'YOURS TRULY.'

Nobody ever yet found very great difficulty in starting a letter. Young
lovers may have hesitated from time to time between such modes of
address as 'Dear,' 'Dearest,' 'Sweetest,' 'Darling,' and the like; but
only for a moment. Usually, the overburdened heart hits at once upon the
exact word or phrase which best expresses its ecstatic feeling. And so
with less impassioned matters. There is a well-recognised gradation in
the methods of epistolary salutation. The stranger is addressed as
'Sir,' the person of whom something is known as 'Dear Sir.' 'My Dear
Sir' accompanies a rather better acquaintance; 'Dear Mr. Brown' marks an
approach to intimacy; while 'Dear Brown' signifies the acme of
friendship and of _camaraderie_. Here, again, there may be a temporary
pause before passing from 'Sir' to 'Dear Sir,' and so forth, but in
general the transitions are sufficiently well emphasized to be obvious
to the average intelligence.

Very different is it with the other end of the letter. There we find
opportunity for the widest divergence. Royal or official, pompous or
irate, people have been known to finish an epistle, abruptly, with the
simple appendix of their name; but these are the exceptions which prove
the rule. And the rule is certainly to preface the name by some
expression of feeling, however brief and perfunctory. The least you can
do is to describe yourself as 'yours.' We find Sterne thus describing
himself to Garrick; while, by way of slight variety, Cowper, writing to
Joseph Hill, ends with a 'Yours, dear Joe.' Still further variety is
secured when, as in the case of Lord Eglinton addressing his countess in
1619, the hackneyed 'I remain, yours' takes the form of 'I rest,
yours'--a phrase which is not, however, likely to be often u