Vermont Phœnix

BENTON'S ANECDOTES.
Thomas H. Benton has a way of telling a story that the wits of the day might be proud of, if they could beg or borrow it. But it is Benton's own, and he needs no copyright to protect him in his exclusive use of it. Reading some of his recent stump speeches, interspersed with frequent piquant passages of humor, we were reminded of a sudden explosion of his magazine of ridicule, when in the year 1811, the famous John Tyler Bank Bill was introduced into the United States Senate with the protracted title of 'An act to provide for the better collection, safe keeping, and disbursement of the public revenue, by means of a corporation, to be styled the Fiscal Corporation of the United States.' Instantly on the title being read, Mr Benton exclaimed,
'Heavens, what a name! long as the moral law. The people will never stand it. They cannot go through all that. Corporosity! that would be a great abridgement; but still it is too long. It is five syllables, and people will not go above two syllables, or three at most, and they often hang at one. I go for short names. The people will have them, though they spoil a long, good one to make a short one. There was a most beautiful young lady in New Orleans some years ago, as there always has been, and still are many such. She was a Creole; that is to say, born in this country of parents from Europe. A gentleman, who was building a splendid steamboat, took it into his head to honor this beautiful young lady by connecting her name with his vessel; and he bestowed upon it in golden letters, the captivating designation of La Belle Creole. The vessel was beautiful, and the name was beautiful, and the lady was beautiful, but all the beauty on earth could not save the name from the catastrophe to which all long titles are subjected. At first they call her the bell—not the French belle, which signifies fine or beautiful—but the plain English bell, defined in Scripture to be a tinkling cymbal. This was bad enough, but worse was coming. It so happens that the vernacular pronunciation of Creole in the Kentucky waters is cre-ole: so they began up there to call this beautiful boat the Creosel. But things did not stop here. It was too extravagant to employ two syllables when one would answer as well and be so much more economical. so the first half of the name was dropped and the last retained: and thus La Belle Creole—the beautiful Creole—sailed up and down the Mississippi all her life by the name, style and description of The Owl.' Roars of laughter in the Senate followed this story. and on went Benton with two or three more, but we will repeat but one of them: the last, and with which he concluded his remarks.
'I do not pretend to impose a name upon this bantling: that is a privilege of paternity, or of sponsorship, and I stand in neither relationship to this babe. But a name of brevity—of brevity and significance—it must have, and if the fathers and sponsors do not bestow it the people will, for a long name is abhorred and eschewed in all countries. Remember the fate of John Barebone, the canting hypocrite in Cromwell's time. He had a very good name. John Barebone: but the knave composed a long verse like Scripture, to sanctify himself with it, and entitled himself thus: Praise God, Barebone. for if Christ had not died for you. you would be damned, Barebone.' Now this was very sanctimonious, but it was too long—too much of a good thing—and so the people cut it all off but the last two words, and called the fellow 'damned Barebone.' and nothing else all his life after. So let this corporosity beware; it may get himself damned before it is done with us, and Tyler too.'