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Updated: June 21, 2025
Never was faddy about myself, though," he added, with a glance at Mr. Greene's very correct dinner attire. "You ought to remember me, Mr. Greene," one of the two men remarked from the right-hand side of the table. "I've played golf with you at Baltusrol more than once." Mr. Greene glanced surreptitiously at the card and smiled. "Why, it's James P. Busby, of course!" he exclaimed.
For several terms we sat together on the same uncompromisingly uncomfortable bench, worried over the same boy-maddening problems in "Ray's Arithmetic-Part III.," learned the same jargon of meaningless rules from "Greene's Grammar," pondered over "Mitchell's Geography and Atlas," and tried in vain to understand why Providence made the surface of one State obtrusively pink and another ultramarine blue; trod slowly and painfully over the rugged road "Bullion" points out for beginners in Latin, and began to believe we should hate ourselves and everybody else, if we were gotten up after the manner shown by "Cutter's Physiology."
The most noteworthy of them were Nash's Piers Penniless's Supplication to the Devil, Lyly's Pap with a Hatchet, and Greene's Groat's Worth of Wit. Of books which were not so much literature as the material of literature, mention may be made of the Chronicle of England, published by Ralph Holinshed in 1580.
We know how great was Greene's reputation as an author, how publishers were ready to outbid one another for the very dregs of his wit. Thomas Brabine was but voicing the general opinion when, in some verses prefixed to Menaphon, he wrote, condescending to an inevitable pun, but also to a less excusable mixed metaphor: Be thou still Greene, whiles others glorie waine.
Now when he hears some one express desire for a copy of Greene's Groatsworth of Wit, or any other rare book of Elizabeth's time, the Bishop's thoughts fly toward the setting sun. Then he smiles a notable kind of smile, and says, 'If I could get away I'd run out to Montana and try to pick up a copy for you. There is a certain gentleman who loves the literature of Queen Anne's reign.
But the popular voice was loud against the nobles who preferred to spend their money on such things instead of on improving their estates, and who squandered on fine clothes what used to be spent on roast beef for their retainers. Greene's Quip for an Upstart Courtier parodies what the new and refined Englishman would say:
The last letter that my grandfather ever wrote to General Lafayette had been about a project which they had formed at the close of the war, to bring up their sons "the two George Washingtons" together; and as soon after General Greene's death as the necessary arrangement could be made, my poor uncle was sent to France and placed under the General's care.
"Don't you remember the little girls in mamma's old Godey books?" he asked, at last, very anxiously, seeing that his early imperfect description had led to an apparent oscillation of Miss Greene's imagination between the paper ruffle of a lamb-chop and a frilly sunbonnet. "They have slippers an' 'lastic bands an' scallopy funnels coming down under their skirts.
The command marched from Charlotte, along the "Lawyer's Road," to Matthew Stewart's, on Goose Creek, and thence towards Camden, to fall in with General Greene's army. They halted at the noted "Flat Rock," and eat beef butchered on that wide-spread natural table. The command then marched to Rugeley's Mill, where it remained a week or more.
I don't know a man that's quite as lucky this morning as you are!" "Thank you," laughed Judith. She rose and shook hands too. "We're at Blue Lake ranch for the present. Come and see us." "Then you're Miss Sanford?" said Greene. He laughed. "I've heard of you more than once. Greene's my name." "Lee's mine," offered Lee. "Bud Lee, eh? Oh, you two will do! So long, friends.
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