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most undeniably true;
But, as Douglas walks o'er them both morning and night,
It's a wonder they're not black and blue.
MCCCL.—A SYLLABIC DIFFERENCE.

Gibbon, the historian, was one day attending the trial of Warren Hastings in Westminster Hall, and Sheridan, having perceived him there, took occasion to mention "the luminous author of The Decline and Fall." After he had finished, one of his friends reproached him with flattering Gibbon. "Why, what did I say of him?" asked Sheridan. "You called him the luminous author."—"Luminous! Oh, I meant voluminous!"

MCCCLI.—"SINKING" THE WELL.

Theodore Hook once observed a party of laborers sinking a well. "What are you about?" he inquired. "Boring for water, sir," was the answer. "Water's a bore at any time," responded Hook; "besides, you're quite wrong; remember the old proverb,—'Let well alone.'"

MCCCLII.—ON A GENTLEMAN NAMED HEDDY.
In reading his name it may truly be said,
You will make that man dy if you cut off his Hed.
MCCCLIII.—THE WAY TO KEW.

Hook, in the supposed character of Gower-street undergraduate, says: "One problem was given me to work which I did in a twinkling. Given C A B to find Q. Answer: Take your C A B through Hammersmith, turn to the left just before you come to Brentford, and Kew is right before you."

MCCCLIV.—ABOVE PROOF.

An East-India Governor having died abroad, his body[Pg 298] was put in arrack, to preserve it for interment, in England. A sailor on board the ship being frequently drunk, the captain forbade the purser, and indeed all in the ship, to let him have any liquor. Shortly after the fellow appeared very drunk. How he obtained the liquor, no one could guess. The captain resolved to find out, promising to forgive him if he would tell from whom he got the liquor. After some hesitation, he hiccupped out, "Why, please your honor, I tapped the Governor."

MCCCLV.—AWKWARD ORTHOGRAPHY.

Mathews once went to Wakefield, then, from commercial failures, in a dreadful state. In vain did he announce his inimitable "Youthful Days"; the Yorkshiremen came not. When he progressed to Edinburgh, a friend asked him if he made much money in Wakefield. "Not a shilling!" was the reply. "Not a shilling!" reiterated his astonished acquaintance. "Why, didn't you go there to star?"—"Yes," replied Mathews, with mirthful mournfulness; "but they spell it with a ve in Wakefield."

MCCCLVI.—MISS WILBERFORCE.

When Mr. Wilberforce was a candidate for Hull, his sister, an amiable and witty young lady, offered the compliment of a new gown to each of the wives of those freemen who voted for her brother, on which she was saluted with a cry of "Miss Wilberforce for ever!" when she pleasantly observed, "I thank you, gentlemen, but I can not agree with you; for really, I do not wish to be Miss Wilberforce for ever!"

MCCCLVII.—WRITTEN ON THE UNION, 1801, BY A BARRISTER OF DUBLIN.
Why should we explain, that the times are so bad,
Pursuing a querulous strain?
When Erin gives up all the rights that she had,
What right has she left to complain?
[Pg 299] MCCCLVIII.—A COOL PROPOSITION.

At the breaking up of a fashionable party at the west end of town, one of the company said he was about to "drop in" at Lady Blessington's; whereupon a young gentleman, a perfect stranger to the speaker, very modestly said, "O then, you can take me with you; I want very much to know her, and you can introduce me." While the other was standing aghast at the impudence of the proposal, and muttering something about being but a slight acquaintance himself, etc., Sydney Smith observed, "Pray oblige our young friend; you can do it easily enough by introducing him in a capacity very desirable at this close season of the year,—say you are bringing with you the cool of the evening."

MCCCLIX.—A PROPER NAME.

When Messrs. Abbot and Egerton took the old Coburg Theatre for the purpose of bringing forward the legitimate drama, the former gentleman asked Hook if he could suggest a new name, the old being too much identified with blue fire and broadswords to suit the proposed change of performance. "Why," said Hook, "as you will of course butcher everything you attempt, suppose you call it Abbatoir."

MCCCLX.—THE GRANDSON.

Horace Walpole, on one occasion observed that there had existed the same indecision, irresolution, and want of system in the politics of Queen Anne, as at the time he spoke, under the reign of George the Third. "But," added he, "there is nothing new under the sun!"—"No," said George Selwyn, "nor under the grand-son!"

MCCCLXI.—AN UNANSWERABLE ARGUMENT.

A well-fed rector was advising a poor starving laborer to trust to Providence, and be satisfied with his lot. "Ah!" replied the needy man, "I should be satisfied with his lot if I had it, but I can't get even a little."[Pg 300]

MCCCLXII.—TO LADY, MOUNT E——, ON THE DEATH OF A FAVORITE PIG.
O dry that tear so round and big,
Nor waste in sighs your precious wind;
Death only takes a single pig
Your lord and son are still behind.
MCCCLXIII.—NATURAL.

Mrs. Smith, hearing strange sounds, inquired of her new servant if she snored in her sleep. "I don't know, marm," replied Becky, quite innocently; "I never lay awake long enough to diskiver."

MCCCLXIV.—BROTHERLY LOVE.

An affectionate Irishman once enlisted in the 75th Regiment, in order to be near his brother, who was a corporal in the 76th.

MCCCLXV.—A DISTRESSFUL DENOUEMENT.

Mr. Moore having been long under a prosecution in Doctors' Commons, his proctor called on him one day whilst he was composing the tragedy of The Gamester. The proctor having sat down, he read him four acts of the piece, being all he had written; by which the man of law was so affected, that he exclaimed, "Good! good! can you add to this couple's distress in the last act?"—"O, very easily," said the poet, "I intend to put them into the Ecclesiastical Court."

MCCCLXVI.—CONSERVATIVE LOGIC.
"Taxes are equal is a dogma which
I'll prove at once," exclaimed a Tory boor;
"Taxation hardly presses on the rich,
And likewise presses hardly on the poor."
MCCCLXVII.—THE BEST WINE.

Sheridan being asked what wine he liked best, replied, "The wine of other people."[Pg 301]

MCCCLXVIII.—A VALUABLE BEAVER.

A grand entertainment taking place at Belvoir Castle, on the occasion of the coming of age of the Marquis of Granby, the company were going out to see the fireworks, when Theodore Hook came in great tribulation to the Duke of Rutland, who was standing near Sir Robert Peel, and said: "Now isn't this provoking? I've lost my hat. What can I do?"—"Why did you part with your hat? I never do," said his Grace. "Ay!" rejoined Theodore, "but you have especial good reasons for sticking to your Beaver" (Belvoir).

MCCCLXIX.—SOMETHING TO POCKET.

A diminutive lawyer appearing as witness in one of the Courts, was asked by a gigantic counsellor what profession he was of; and having replied that he was an attorney,—"You a lawyer!" said Brief; "why I could put you in my pocket."—"Very likely you may," rejoined the other; "and if you do, you will have more law in your pocket than ever you had in your head."

MCCCLXX.—UP AND DOWN.

At the Irish bar, Moran Mahaffy, Esq., was as much above the middle size as Mr. Collis was below it. When Lord Redesdale was Lord Chancellor of Ireland, Messrs. Mahaffy and Collis happened to be retained in the same case a short time after his lordship's elevation, and before he was acquainted personally with the Irish bar. Mr. Collis was opening the motion, when Lord R. observed, "Mr. Collis, when a barrister addresses the court, he must stand."—"I am standing on the bench, my lord," said Collis. "I beg a thousand pardons," replied his lordship, somewhat confused; "sit down, Mr. Mahaffy."—"I am sitting, my lord," was the reply to the confounded Chancellor.

MCCCLXXI.—A POOR SUBSTITUTE.

The Rev. Mr. Johnston was one of those rough but quaint preachers of the former generation who were fond of visiting and good living. While seated at the table of[Pg 302] a good lady in a neighboring parish, she asked him if he took milk in his tea. "Yes, ma'am when I can't get cream," was the ready reply.

MCCCLXXII.—OUT OF SPIRITS.
"Is my wife out of spirits?" said John with a sigh,
As her voice of a tempest gave warning.
"Quite out, sir, indeed," said her maid in reply,
"For she finished the bottle this morning."
MCCCLXXIII.—GOOD AT THE HALT.

Peter Macnally, an Irish attorney, was very lame, and, when walking, had an unfortunate limp, which he could not bear to be told of. At the time of the Rebellion he was seized with a military ardor, and when the different volunteer corps were forming in Dublin, that of the lawyers was organized. Meeting with Curran, Macnally said, "My dear friend, these are not times for a man to be idle; I am determined to enter the lawyers' corps, and follow the camp."—"You follow the camp, my little limb of the law!" said the wit; "tut, tut, renounce the idea; you never can be a disciplinarian."—"And why not, Mr. Curran?" said Macnally. "For this reason," said Curran; "the moment you were ordered to march, you would halt!"

MCCCLXXIV.—AN EASY WAY.

A person deeply in debt, was walking through the streets in a melancholy way, when a friend asked him the cause of his sadness. "I owe money and cannot pay it," said the man, in a tone of extreme dejection. "Can't you leave all the uneasiness to your creditors?" replied the other. "Is it not enough that one should be sorry for what neither of you can help?"

MCCCLXXV.—ERUDITE.

A lady had a favorite lapdog, which she called Perchance. "A singular name," said somebody, "for a beautiful pet, madam. Where did you find it?"—"O," drawled she, "it was named from Byron's dog. You remember where he says, 'Perchance my dog will howl.'"[Pg 303]

MCCCLXXVI.—VERY EASY.

On the approach of Holy Week, a great lady said to her friend, "We must, however, mortify ourselves a little."—"Well," replied the other, "let us make our servants fast."

MCCCLXXVII.—A WINNER AT CARDS.

A gentleman riding one day near Richmond, observed a house delightfully situated, and asking his companion to whom it belonged, was answered, "To a card-maker."—"Upon my life," he replied, "one would imagine all that man's cards must have been trumps."

MCCCLXXVIII.—EPIGRAM.
The charity of Closefist give to fame,
He has at last subscribed—how much?—his name.
MCCCLXXIX.—AN INCONVENIENT BREAK DOWN.

The play of "King Lear" being performed at Reading, the representative of Glo'ster was, on one occasion, taken ill, and another actor was found to take the part at a short notice. He got on famously as far as the scene where Glo'ster had his eyes put out, when he came to a stand still, and was obliged to beg permission to read the rest of the part.

MCCCLXXX.—SMALL TALK.

Fuseli had a great dislike to common-place observations. After sitting perfectly quiet for a long time in his own room, during the "bald disjointed chat" of some idle visitors, who were gabbling with one another about the weather, and other topics of as interesting a nature, he suddenly exclaimed, "We had pork for dinner to-day."—"Dear me! Mr. Fuseli, what an odd remark."—"Why, it is as good as anything you have been saying for the last hour."

MCCCLXXXI.—RATHER FEROCIOUS.

As Burke was declaiming with great animation against Hastings, he was interrupted by little Major Scott. "Am[Pg 304] I," said he, indignantly, "to be teased by the barking of this jackal while I am attacking the royal tiger of Bengal?"

MCCCLXXXII.—ONLY FOR LIFE.

A Spanish Archbishop having a dispute with an opulent duke, who said with scorn, "What are you? your title and revenues are only for your life," answered by asking, "And for how many lives does your Grace hold yours?"

MCCCLXXXIII.—AN OUTLINE.

When the Duke de Choiseul, who was a remarkably meagre-looking man, came to London to negotiate a peace, Charles Townshend, being asked whether the French government had sent the preliminaries of a treaty, answered, he did not know, but they had sent "the outline of an ambassador."

MCCCLXXXIV.—ON SIR WALTER SCOTT'S POEM OF WATERLOO.
On Waterloo's ensanguined plain,
Full many a gallant man lies slain;
But none, by bullet or by shot,
Fell half so flat as Walter Scott.
MCCCLXXXV.—UGLY TRADES.

The ugliest of trades have their moments of pleasure. Now, if I were a grave-digger, or even a hangman, there are

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