The Devil's Dictionary

HANDKERCHIEF, n. A small square of silk or linen, used in various ignoble offices about the face and especially serviceable at funerals to conceal the lack of tears. The handkerchief is of recent invention; our ancestors knew nothing of it and intrusted its duties to the sleeve. Shakespeare’s introducing it into the play of “Othello” is an anachronism: Desdemona dried her nose with her skirt, as Dr. Mary Walker and other reformers have done with their coattails in our own day — an evidence that revolutions sometimes go backward.

HANGMAN, n. An officer of the law charged with duties of the highest dignity and utmost gravity, and held in hereditary disesteem by a populace having a criminal ancestry. In some of the American States his functions are now performed by an electrician, as in New Jersey, where executions by electricity have recently been ordered — the first instance known to this lexicographer of anybody questioning the expediency of hanging Jerseymen.

HAPPINESS, n. An agreeable sensation arising from contemplating the misery of another.

HARANGUE, n. A speech by an opponent, who is known as an harrangue-outang.

HARBOR, n. A place where ships taking shelter from stores are exposed to the fury of the customs.

HARMONISTS, n. A sect of Protestants, now extinct, who came from Europe in the beginning of the last century and were distinguished for the bitterness of their internal controversies and dissensions.

HASH, x. There is no definition for this word — nobody knows what hash is.

HATCHET, n. A young axe, known among Indians as a Thomashawk.

“O bury the hatchet, irascible Red,

For peace is a blessing,” the White Man said.

The Savage concurred, and that weapon interred,

With imposing rites, in the White Man’s head.

John Lukkus

HATRED, n. A sentiment appropriate to the occasion of another’s superiority.

HEAD-MONEY, n. A capitation tax, or poll-tax.

In ancient times there lived a king

Whose tax-collectors could not wring

From all his subjects gold enough

To make the royal way less rough.

For pleasure’s highway, like the dames

Whose premises adjoin it, claims

Perpetual repairing. So

The tax-collectors in a row

Appeared before the throne to pray

Their master to devise some way

To swell the revenue. “So great,”

Said they, “are the demands of state

A tithe of all that we collect

Will scarcely meet them. Pray reflect:

How, if one-tenth we must resign,

Can we exist on t’other nine?”

The monarch asked them in reply:

“Has it occurred to you to try

The advantage of economy?”

“It has,” the spokesman said: “we sold

All of our gray garrotes of gold;

With plated-ware we now compress

The necks of those whom we assess.

Plain iron forceps we employ

To mitigate the miser’s joy

Who hoards, with greed that never tires,

That which your Majesty requires.”

Deep lines of thought were seen to plow

Their way across the royal brow.

“Your state is desperate, no question;

Pray favor me with a suggestion.”

“O King of Men,” the spokesman said,

“If you’ll impose upon each head

A tax, the augmented revenue

We’ll cheerfully divide with you.”

As flashes of the sun illume

The parted storm-cloud’s sullen gloom,

The king smiled grimly. “I decree

That it be so — and, not to be

In generosity outdone,

Declare you, each and every one,

Exempted from the operation

Of this new law of capitation.

But lest the people censure me

Because they’re bound and you are free,

‘Twere well some clever scheme were laid

By you this poll-tax to evade.

I’ll leave you now while you confer

With my most trusted minister.”

The monarch from the throne-room walked

And straightway in among them stalked

A silent man, with brow concealed,

Bare-armed — his gleaming axe revealed!

G.J.

HEARSE, n. Death’s baby-carriage.