One other notable problem from Sam Loyd’s Cyclopedia of 5000 Puzzles: A father left to his four sons this square field, with the instruction that they divide it into four pieces, each of the same shape and size, so that each piece of land contained one of the trees. How did they manage it?
Advice sent by Philip Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield (1694–1773), to his son Philip on how to attain success in the world:
Be wiser than other people if you can; but do not tell them so.
An injury is much sooner forgotten than an insult.
Without some dissimulation no business can be carried on at all.
I am sure that since I have had the full use of my reason, nobody has ever heard me laugh.
The manner is often as important as the matter, sometimes more so.
Speak of the moderns without contempt, and of the ancients without idolatry.
I really know nothing more criminal, more mean, and more ridiculous than lying. It is the production either of malice, cowardice, or vanity; and generally misses of its aim in every one of these views; for lies are always detected, sooner or later.
Never seem wiser, nor more learned, than the people you are with. Wear your learning, like your watch, in a private pocket: and do not pull it out and strike it; merely to show that you have one.
The characteristic of a well-bred man is, to converse with his inferiors without insolence, and with his superiors with respect and with ease.
Knowledge may give weight, but accomplishments give luster, and many more people see than weigh.
It is a great advantage for any man to be able to talk or hear, neither ignorantly nor absurdly, upon any subject; for I have known people, who have not said one word, hear ignorantly and absurdly; it has appeared by their inattentive and unmeaning faces.
A proper secrecy is the only mystery of able men; mystery is the only secrecy of weak and cunning ones.
In short, let it be your maxim through life, to know all you can know, yourself; and never to trust implicitly to the informations of others.
It is an undoubted truth, that the less one has to do, the less time one finds to do it in. One yawns, one procrastinates, one can do it when one will, and therefore one seldom does it at all.
It is commonly said, and more particularly by Lord Shaftesbury, that ridicule is the best test of truth.
Let blockheads read what blockheads wrote.
The reputation of generosity is to be purchased pretty cheap; it does not depend so much upon a man’s general expense, as it does upon his giving handsomely where it is proper to give at all. A man, for instance, who should give a servant four shillings, would pass for covetous, while he who gave him a crown, would be reckoned generous; so that the difference of those two opposite characters, turns upon one shilling.
Let this be one invariable rule of your conduct — never to show the least symptom of resentment, which you cannot, to a certain degree, gratify; but always to smile, where you cannot strike.
“I wish to God,” he wrote in 1750, “that you had as much pleasure in following my advice, as I have in giving it to you.”
(From Letters to His Son on the Art of Becoming a Man of the World and a Gentleman, 1774.)
Hob and Nob live in Gotham, a village stricken with “witch mania.” Rita visits both of them. Hob tells her, “The witch has blighted Bob’s mare,” and Nob tells her, “Maybe the witch killed Cob’s sow.” Hob and Nob themselves don’t suspect any particular person of being a witch, and there’s no definite description (such as “the Gotham witch”) that they both think applies uniquely to some alleged witch. Hob isn’t aware of Cob’s sow, and Nob isn’t aware of Bob’s mare. Rita herself doesn’t believe in witches. She reports the following:
“Hob thinks a witch has blighted Bob’s mare, and Nob wonders whether she killed Cob’s sow.”
How do we make sense of this? The two assertions seem to refer to the same person, but how is this possible if no such person exists? What can it mean to say that one nonexistent object is the same as another?
(P.T. Geach, “Intentional Identity,” Journal of Philosophy 64:20 [1967], 627–32.)
My Aunt Maria asked me to read the life of Dr. Chalmers, which, however, I did not promise to do. Yesterday, Sunday, she was heard through the partition shouting to my Aunt Jane, who is deaf, ‘Think of it! He stood half an hour today to hear the frogs croak, and he wouldn’t read the life of Chalmers.’
Donald Aucamp offered this problem in the Puzzle Corner department of MIT Technology Review in October 2003. Three logicians, A, B, and C, are wearing hats. Each of them knows that a positive integer has been painted on each of the hats, and each of them can see her companions’ integers but not her own. They also know that one of the integers is the sum of the other two. Now they engage in a contest to see which can be the first to determine her own number. A goes first, then B, then C, and so on in a circle until someone correctly names her number. In the first round, all three of them pass, but in the second round A correctly announces that her number is 50. How did she know this, and what were the other numbers?
Howard Haber gave this solution in the March-April 2004 issue. The key observation to bear in mind is that if one of the logicians sees that both of her opponents’ hats bear the same number, she can conclude immediately that her own number is twice this value.
Each of the logicians knows that her own number is either the sum or the positive difference of the other two. A, going first, reasons that the three numbers A, B, C must stand in one of two ratios, 1:2:3 or 5:2:3. She can’t decide between these possibilities, so she remains silent. But in the second round A has the benefit of knowing that each of the other logicians also remained silent in the first round. Now, suppose that the ratio had been 1:2:3. Then, when B took her turn in the first round, she would have concluded that the ratio must be either 1:2:3 or 1:4:3. Like A, she would have remained silent, unable to decide between these possibilities. But C, going next, would have determined that the ratio must be either 1:2:3 or 1:2:1 — and she could immediately have excluded the latter because in that case B would have been able to win the game by employing the key observation above. Noting that B didn’t do this would have allowed C to win the game herself by announcing her only remaining possibility, 1:2:3. The fact that C didn’t do this tells A that the ratio can’t be 1:2:3, and she concludes that it must be the other ratio she’d been considering, 5:2:3.
“For the problem as stated, just multiply all numbers above by 10.”
“Garçon!” the diner was chargin’,
“My butter has been writ large in!”
“But I had to write there,”
Exclaimed waiter Pierre,
“I didn’t have room in the margarine.”
Speaking of swans: By royal prerogative, all mute swans in open water in Britain are the property of the British Crown. Historically the Crown shares ownership with two livery companies, the Worshipful Company of Vintners and the Worshipful Company of Dyers, and so, accordingly, each year in the third week of July three skiffs make their way up the Thames from Sunbury to Abingdon, catching, tagging, and releasing the swans they encounter. Nominally they’re apportioning the birds among themselves; in practice they’re counting them and checking their health.
Magnificently, the Crown’s swans are recorded by the Marker of the Swans, a recognized official in the Royal Household since this tradition began in the 12th century. Queen Elizabeth II attended the Swan Upping ceremony in 2009, as “Seigneur of the Swans,” the first time a reigning monarch had done so. The entire operation was shut down for the first time in 2020, due to COVID-19, but it commenced again the following year.
While we’re at it: All whales and sturgeons caught in Britain become the personal property of the monarch — they are “royal fish.” Plan accordingly.