The wind it blew high and blew strong, As this elderly gentleman sat, And bore front his head in a trice And plunged in the river his hat.

The gentleman then took his cane, Which lay on his lap as he sat, And dropped in the river his wig In attempting to get out his hat.

Cool reflection at length came across, While this elderly gentleman sat; So he thought he would follow the stream, And look for his fine wig and hat.

His breast it grew cold with despair, And full in his eye madness sat; So he flung in the river his cane, To swim with his wig and his hat.

His head, being thicker than common, O'er-balanced the rest of his fat, And in plunged this son of a woman To follow his wig, cane, and hat.

A Newfoundland dog was at hand-- No circumstance could be more pat-- The old man he brought safe to land, Then fetched out his wig, cane, and hat.

The gentleman, dripping and cold, Seem'd much like a half-drowned rat, But praised his deliverer so bold, Then adjusted his cane, wig, and hat.

Now homeward the gentleman hied, But neither could wear wig or hat; The dog followed close at his side, Fawn'd, waggled his tail, and all that.

The gentleman, filled with delight, The dog's master hastily sought; Two guineas set all things to right, For that sum his true friend he bought.

From him the dog never would part, But lived much caressed for some years; Till levelled by Death's fatal dart, When the gentleman shed many tears.

Then buried poor Tray in the Green.

And placed o'er the grave a small stone, Whereon a few lines may be seen, Expressive of what he had done."

_ANAGRAMS._

Anagrams are curious and frequently clever examples of formal literary trifling. Camden, in his "Remains," gave to the world a treatise showing that in his day anagrams were endowed with an undue and superstitious importance, being regarded as nothing less than the occult and mysterious finger of Fate, revealed in the names of men.

"The only quintessence," says this old writer, "that hitherto the alchemy of wit could draw out of names, is _anagrammatisme_ or _metagrammatisme_, which is the dissolution of a name, truly written, into the letters as its elements, and a new connection of it by artificial transposition, without addition, subtraction, or change of any letter, into different words, making some perfect sense applicable to the person named." Precise anagrammatists adhere strictly to these rules, with the exception of omitting or retaining the letter _h_ according to their convenience, alleging that _h_ cannot claim the rights of a letter; others, again, think it no injury sometimes to use _e_ for _ae_, _v_ for _w_, _s_ for _z_, _c_ for _k_, and contrariwise, and several of the instances which follow will be found variously imperfect. Camden calls the charming difficulty of making an anagram, "the whetstone of patience to them that shall practise it; for some have been seen to bite their pen, scratch their head, bend their brows, bite their lips, beat the board, tear their paper, when the names were fair for somewhat, and caught nothing therein,--yet, notwithstanding the sour sort of critics, good anagrams yield a delightful comfort and pleasant motion to honest minds."

Camden places the origin of the anagram as far back as the time of Moses, and conjectures that it may have had some share in the mystical traditions, afterwards called the "Cabala," communicated by the Jewish lawgiver. One part of the art of the cabalists lay in what they called _themuru_--that is, changing--or finding the hidden and mystical meaning in names, which they did by transposing and fantastically combining the letters in those names. Thus of the letters of Noah's name in Hebrew they made _Grace_, and of the Messiah's _He shall rejoice_. Whether the above origin be theoretical or not, the anagram can be traced to the age of Lycophron, a Greek writer, who flourished about 300 B.C.

Among the moderns, the French have most cultivated the anagram. Camden says: "They exceedingly admire the anagram, for the deep and far-fetched antiquity and mystical meaning therein. In the reign of Francis the First (when learning began to revive), they began to distil their wits therein."

There is a curious anecdote of an anagrammatist who presented a king of France with the two following upon his name of Bourbon:

Borbonius, Borbonius, _Bonus orbi_; or _Orbus boni_;

That is, "Bourbon good to the world;" or "Bourbon destitute of good;"

while on another celebrated Frenchman we have--

Voltaire, _O alte vir_.

Southey, in his "Doctor," says that "anagrams are not likely ever again to hold so high a place among the prevalent pursuits of literature as they did in the seventeenth century. But no person," he continues, "will ever hit upon an apt one without feeling that degree of pleasure with which any odd coincidence is remarked." In that century, indeed, the artifice appears to have become the fashionable literary passion of the day--the amusement of the learned and the wise, who sought

"To purchase fame, In keen iambics and mild anagram."

While Andreas Rudiger was yet a student at college, and intending to become a physician, he one day pulled the Latinised form of his name to pieces, Andreas Rudigeras, and borrowing an _i_, transposed it into _Arare Rus Dei Dignus_ ("Worthy to cultivate the land of God"). He fancied from this that he had a divine call to become an ecclesiastic, and thereupon gave up the study of medicine for theology. Soon after, Rudiger became tutor in the family of the philosopher Thomasius, who one day told him "that he would greatly benefit the journey of his life by turning it towards physic." Rudiger confessed that his tastes lay rather in that direction than to theology, but having looked upon the anagram of his name as an indication of a divine call, he had not dared to turn away from theology. "How simple you have been," replied Thomasius; "it is just that very anagram which calls you towards medicine--'_Rus Dei_,' the land of God (God's acre), what is that but the cemetery--and who labours so bravely for the cemetery as a physician does?" Rudiger could not resist this, returned to medicine, and became famous as a physician.

An anagram on Monk, afterwards Duke of Albemarle on the restoration of Charles II., forms also a chronogram, including the date of the event it records--

Georgius Monke, Dux de Aumarle-- _Ego Regem reduxi, anno sa_ MDCLVV.

In this anagram the _c_ takes the place of the _k_.

The old Puritan biographer, Cotton Mather, claims for John Wilson--the subject of one of his lives--the kingship of anagrammatising. "Of all the anagrammatisers," he says in the third book of his "Magnalia Christi Americana," "that have been trying their fancies for the 2000 years that have run out since the days of Lycophron, or the more than 5000 since the days of our first father, I believe there never was a man that made so many, or so nimbly, as our Mr. Wilson; who, together with his quick turns upon the names of his friends, would ordinarily _fetch_, and rather than _lose_, would even _force_, devout instructions out of his anagrams. As one, upon hearing my father (Increase Mather) preach, Mr. Wilson immediately gave him that anagram upon his name 'Crescentius Matherus,'

_Eu! Christus Merces Tua_ (Lo! Christ is thy reward). There would scarcely occur the name of any remarkable person without an anagram raised thereupon."

This said John Wilson "forced instruction" out of his own name--first rendering it into Latin, Johannes Wilsonus, he found this anagram in it, "_In uno Jesu nos salvi_" (We are saved in one Jesus). This mode of Latinising names was common enough among those who liked this literary folly; thus we have Sir Robert Viner, or Robertus Vinerus, rendered "_Vir Bonus et Rarus_" (a good and rare man). The disciples of Descartes made a perfect anagram upon the Latinised name of their master, "Renatus Cartesius," one which not only takes up every letter, but which also expresses their opinion of that master's speciality--"_Tu scis res naturae_" (Thou knowest the things of nature).

Pierre de St. Louis became a Carmelite monk on discovering that his name yielded a direction to that effect:

Ludovicus Bartelemi-- _Carmelo se devolvit_.

And, in the seventeenth century, Andre Pujom, finding that his name spelled _Pendu a Riom_, fulfilled his destiny by cutting somebody's throat in Auvergne, and was actually hung at Riom, the seat of justice in that province.

Occasionally when the anagram of a name did not make sense, there was added a rhyme to bring out a meaning. Thus, in a sermon preached by Dr.

Edward Reynolds upon Peter Whalley, and entitled "Death's Advantage,"

every letter of the name is to be found in the first line of this verse:

"_They reap well_, That Heaven obtain; Who sow like thee, Ne'er sow in vain."

In this sermon Peter Whalley is also anagrammatised into _A Whyte Perle_--this would not be a bad one, if orthography were of as little consequence as many of the old triflers in this way used to account it.

We read that when Alexander the Great was baffled before the walls of Tyre, and was about to raise the siege, he had a dream wherein he saw a satyr leaping about and trying to seize him. He consulted his sages, who read in the word Satyrus (the Greek for satyr), "_Sa Tyrus_"--"Tyre is thine!" Encouraged by this interpretation, Alexander made another assault and carried the city.

In a "New Help to Discourse" (London, 1684), there is one with a very quaint exposition:

TOAST--A SOTT.

"A _toast_ is like _a sot_; or what is most Comparative, _a sot_ is like a _toast_; For when their substances in liquor sink, Both properly are said to be in drink."

It will be seen, however, that anagrams have chiefly been made upon proper names, and a reversing of their letters may sometimes pay the owner a compliment; as of the poet Waller:

"His brows with laurel need not to be bound, Since in his _name_ with _laurel_ he is crowned."

George Thompson, the well-known anti-slavery advocate, was at one time solicited to go into parliament for the more efficient serving of the cause he had so much at heart. The question whether he would comply with this request or not was submitted to his friends, and one of them gave the following for answer:

George Thompson, _O go, the Negro's M.P._!

This clever instance was given in "Notes and Queries" a short time ago:

Thomas Carlyle, _A calm holy rest_.

The following are additional instances.

Sir Francis Bacon, Lord Keeper-- _Is born and elect for a rich speaker_.