Note 41 — Chapter VI
Reading edition
91Louisiana.] Though we plume ourselves on adhering closely to the Doctor’s rhymes, yet we have taken the liberty of differing a little in the pronunciation of this word—the Doctor gives it in the true eastern dialect, Lousy-anee—but to give it à la Costive—
“Which late, ’tis said, in weather rainy,
Was melted in Louisiana.”
Again: for when the Doctor gets hold of a good rhyme, he is a “woundy” toad for harping on it.
“But please his highness ship, I won’t
Be deputy to Mr. Hunt:
No—were it offered ’twould be vain, he
Won’t catch me in Louisiana (or Lousy-anee”).
These two latter lines are truly as musical as marrowbones and cleavers, and remind us of that sweet couplet, by the Doctor’s rival, the inimitable Searson
“From this seat I pass’d to Alexandria,
And am pleased through rural scenes to wander.”
Sear. Mount Ver.
If our reader wishes for more specimens of the Doctor’s knack at rhyming, we’ll give him the oft-repeated tags of “rogues and demagogues,” “brewing and ruin,” “wildering and children,” “women and common,” “trimming and women,” “well-knows and fellows,” “comparison and harass’d-em;” together with an occasional mixture of those attic eastern jingles of “dandy and handy” and “sugar candy.” The Doctor and Searson’s poetic contest is similar to one that whilom took place between two honest tars (we beg the gentle Joe Miller’s pardon for borrowing an anecdote); one gave as prize couplet:—
“As she slips she slides along,
A faithful friend is hard to find.”
but the other rhymester beat him all hollow by singing out
“My quart pot holds a gallon,
By zounds.”