of the
realm.

To support this apology for the worthy doctor by plenary proof, would
involve a larger expenditure of space and letter-press than befits the
economy of a discreet hebdomadal journal. We can but allude, and hint,
and suggest, and illustrate our position in an 'off-at-a-tangent' sort
of way. Look, for instance, at his ingenious quaintness in the matter
of _onomatology_. What a name, he would say, is Lamb for a soldier,
Joy for an undertaker, Rich for a pauper, or Noble for a tailor; Big
for a lean or little person, and Small for one who is broad in the
rear and abdominous in the van; Short for a fellow six feet without
his shoes, or Long for him whose high heels barely elevate him to the
height of five; Sweet for one who has either a vinegar face, or a foxy
complexion; Younghusband for an old bachelor; Merryweather for any one
in November or February, a black spring, a cold summer, or a wet
autumn; Goodenough for a person no better than he should be; Toogood
for _any_ human creature; and Best for a subject who is perhaps too
bad to be endured. Amusing, too, are the doctor's reasons for using
the customary _alias_ of female Christian names--never calling any
woman Mary, for example, though _Mare_, being the sea, was, he said,
too emblematic of the sex; but using a synonyme of better omen, and
Molly therefore was to be preferred as being soft. 'If he accosted a
vixen of that name in her worst mood, he _mollified_ her. Martha he
called Patty, because it came pat to the tongue. Dorothy remained
Dorothy, because it was neither fitting that women should be made
Dolls nor Idols. Susan with him was always Sue, because women were to
be sued; and Winifred Winny, because they were to be won.' Or refer to
that pleasant bit of erudite trifling upon the habits of rats,
beginning with the remark, that wheresoever Man goes Rat follows or
accompanies him, town or country being equally agreeable to him;
entering upon your house as a tenant-at-will--his own, not
yours--working out for himself a covered-way in your walls, ascending
by it from one storey to another, and leaving you the larger
apartments, while he takes possession of the space between floor and
ceiling, as an _entresol_ for himself. 'There he has his parties, and
his revels, and his gallopades--merry ones they are--when you would be
asleep, if it were not for the spirit with which the youth and belles
of Rat-land keep up the ball over your head. And you are mo