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From The Treasury of Wit. With Comic Engravings. London: Printed for T. Allman, 1836; pp. 150-10.
THE
TREASURY OF WIT.
WITH COMIC ENGRAVINGS.
.
Dr. Wall at a public dinner was playing with a cork upon the table. “What a dirty hand Dr. W. has,” said Mr. E. “I’ll bet you a bottle there is a dirtier in company,” said the doctor, who had overheard. “Done,” said he, upon which he produced his other hand, and won the wager.
An obscure physician quarrelling with a neighbour, swore in a great rage, that some time or other he would be the death of him. “No, doctor,” replied the other, “for I shall never send for you.”
Some unlucky Westminster scholars, under Dr. Busby, besmeared the stairs leading to the school with something that shall be nameless: the doctor, as was designed, fouled his fingers 151 very much with it, which so enraged him, that he cried out, he would give any body half-a-crown to discover who had a hand in it. An arch boy immediately told him, for that reward he would let him know who had a hand in it. “Well,” said the doctor, “I will certainly give you the half-crown, if you tell me the truth.” “Why, then, Sir,” answered the boy, “you had a hand in it, look at your fingers else.”
A churchwarden, of a parish in Lancashire, being charged to give the archdeacon an account of the number of souls in his parish, he sent a letter informing him there were three hundred and seventy souls in it, besides women and children.
A gentleman being asked what business he intended to bring up his son to? answered, “If I thought the rage for gigs, whiskies, tandems, &c. would continue, I should bring him up to the profession of a surgeon.”
Dr. Ratcliffe being in a tavern one evening, a gentleman entered in great haste, almost speechless, “Doctor, my wife is at the point of death, make haste come with me.” “Not till I have finished my bottle, however,” replied the doctor. The man happened to be a fine athletic fellow, finding the entreaty useless, snatched up the doctor, hoisted him on his 152 back, and carried him out of the tavern: — the moment he set the doctor upon his legs, he received from him, in a very emphatic manner, the following threat: “Now, you rascal, I’ll cure your wife in spite of you.”
King Charles II., when one day a hunting, left his nobles, and went to the cottage of a poor cobbler to ask for some refreshment; the cobbler gave him bread and cheese, and while he was eating it, the cobbler began to talk about the king, and said he would give a trifle to see him; upon which his guest told him, that if he would get up behind him, he would shew him the king. The cobbler readily consented, and off they set. As they were going along, the cobbler asked many questions, among the rest, how he should know the king? His majesty answered, “The king will be covered, and the nobles will be bare.” By this time they were nearly come up with the nobles, and the cobbler began to look about the king; and seeing no one with his hat on but himself and his guest, tapping the king on the shoulder, said, “I think it must be either you or I, Sir.”
A facetious character, whose talents of humour in private companies were the cause of his being always a guest in convivial societies, had, by his late hours and attachment to the bottle, brought himself into a dropsy; insomuch that the faculty, one and all, agreed nothing could save him but tapping. After much persuasion he consented to the operation, and his 153 surgeon and assistants arrived with the necessary apparatus. Bob was got out of bed, and the operator was on the point of introducing the trocar into the abdomen, when, as if suddenly recollecting himself, he bid the doctor stop. “What, are you afraid?” says the surgeon. “No,” says the other, “but upon recollection it will not be proper to be tapped here, for nothing that has been tapped in this house ever lasted long.”
A certain wealthy apothecary being engaged in some of the Mary-le-Bonne buildings, London, it was well observed of him, that he had run away from the pestle and was got into the mortar.
When Sir Robert Walpole began to manifest symptoms of a declining state, the first of his old friends that began to shrink from him were the bishops; having, however, a question to carry in the house of lords, to the success of which the episcopal votes were absolutely necessary, he applied to his firm and faithful friend, the archbishop of York, to assist him in procuring the support of the right rev. bench. The prelate shook his head when the minister urged the necessity of personal application. “My good friend,” said he, “there is but one way to proceed with the right rev. brethren, and you may be assured I will put it in practice; trouble yourself no farther about the matter, and be as secure of their votes as if they had already given them.” The minister went away perfectly satisfied, and the archbishop 154 took immediately to his bed; ordered the knocker to be tied up, the street to be covered with straw, and desired his confidential physician to convey, by shrugs of his shoulders and shakes of his head that he was in very great danger; the sickness of the archbishop was soon known; the archiepiscopal mitre danced before the right rev. bench; the bishops returned to ministerial duty: Sir Robert Walpole gained his end; and the archbishop, on being informed of his success, immediately quitted his sick bed in order to dine with the minister, and laugh in their sleeves at the trick they had put upon lawn sleeves.
Dr. Fuller was very much pleased with the conceit of his epitaph, made by a bon companion: —
“Here lies Fuller’s Earth!”
Mr. Dennis, the critic, had a patent for making thunder for the play-house, of which he was very proud. Mr. Pope says he was at the play one night when thunder was introduced, which made such a horrible grumbling, that Dennis could not contain himself, but roared out, “By G—d that’s my thunder.”
On Bishop W——’s monument, in Westminster Abbey are represented on either side, in bas relief, two miniature figures of Faith and Hope. One looking at it, observed to his friend 155 that he did not see Charity added to them, at which he was surprised. “Why,” says the other, “as he was a bishop, it is most likely he had none.”
Dr. South had a living of £600 a-year, which he never saw but once a-year to receive his tithe; when he gave them a sermon on Sunday, he called himself the Lord’s ambassador. “Does thou hear, Tom,” said a poor fellow to another, “he calls himself the Lord’s ambassador?” “The Lord’s receiver-general,” says Tom, “more like, for he never comes but to receive money.”
The marriage of Mrs. Clive, the celebrated comedian, with the counsellor of that name, was attended with continued jars and squabbles, which, according to public report, chiefly arose from the shrewish disposition of the lady. In a few months they parted, by mutual consent, to the great satisfaction of the hen-pecked counsellor: who, upon his return soon after to his chambers in Lincoln’s Inn, from the western circuit, finding his washer-woman had pawned some of his linen in his absence, dispatched his footman to engage another in that capacity, whose honesty might be depended upon. A laundress was soon found; and, on her waiting upon Mr. Clive, while his man was counting out the clothes to her, he made some inquiries, which occasioned the woman to give him an account of the many respectable people she washed for; and, after mentioning the satisfaction 156 she had given to several serjeants, benchers, and other limbs of the law; “Sir,” says she, “I also wash for a namesake of your honour’s.” “A namesake of mine?” “Yes, an please you,” says she, “and a mighty good sort of a woman too, though she be one of the player folks.” “Oh, what you wash for Mrs. Clive the actress, do you?” “Yes, indeed, Sir, and she is one of my best customers too.” “Is she so?” replied the counsellor: “Stop, John; turn the clothes into the closet again. Here, good woman, I am sorry you had this trouble, here is a half-a-crown for you; but you must not wash for me, for I will not suffer my shirt to be rubbed against her shift any more as long as I live.”
Honesty. — The demand for this article is still very flat, nor do we think any rise is likely to take place. The only reason that can be given for the depression is, the badness of the times, which renders home consumption but comparatively small. Prices same as last month.
Common Sense. — The market of late has been lively, but little of good quality has been offered for sale. He crops has in general failed; and the few holders have little to spare from their own necessities.
Charity has been in considerable demand, in consequence of the distress of the country. A liberal exportation is shortly to sail to the Sicily Islands.
Eloquence. — The market has been extremely brisk, in consequence of the meeting of Parliament; but little of good quality has 157 been brought to market. A sort of mock auction sale took place in Covent Garden, where two Sedition-Brokers disposed of some, which, considering the inferior quality, found a ready market.
Honour. — The market has had a very liberal supply, abundance having been re-imported with the army from France. Considering the stock on hand, the prices are very high
Decency. — But little doing, and the market extremely dull. Fashion has rendered the consumption but small; as far as a petticoat up to the knees, and an exposed bosom can make it. The holders look up for better prices, but seemingly with little chance of success.
Patriotism. — Heavy and dull; nor do we look for an advance: every one is too much occupied by his own distress, to think even for the public good. Price the same.
A Quaker having bought a horse, which proved unsound, of a person named Bacon, wrote to inform him of it, but received no answer. Shortly after, meeting the seller at Norwich, he requested him to take back the horse, which the other positively refused to do. Finding his remonstrances of no avail, the Quaker calmly said, “Friend, thou hast doubtless heard of the devil entering the herd of swine, and I find he still sticks fast to the Bacon. Good morning to thee, friend.”
A reverend sportsman was once boasting of his infallible skill in finding a hare. “If,” said 158 a Quaker to him, who was present, “I were a hare, I would take my seat in a place where I should be sure of not being disturbed by thee from the first of January to the last of December.” “Why, where would you go?” “Into thy study.”
An English officer, in a battle in Flanders, had his wooden leg (covered with a boot) shot off by a cannon ball; his men crying out, “A surgeon, a surgeon for the captain.” “No, no,” said he, “a carpenter, a carpenter will do better.”
A gentleman, going into Newgate, saw a person there whom he knew, in irons; he asked what great offence he had committed. “Nothing!” replied the prisoner, “but the simple one of striking a man and a woman.” “Who are they?” said the gentleman. “There they are, Sir,” taking a halfpenny from his pocket, “as base a couple as you ever saw, though they look so well.”
A querulous invalid was telling his physician that he, though at an advanced time of life, did not know how to manage himself. “You know, my friend,” says the doctor, “that a man of forty is himself either fool or a physician.” The invalid surveyed the son of Galen, who was of that age himself, shrewdly replied, “Pray, Doctor, may not a man be both?”
159Some years since, a man who lived in the Borough divided his shop into two parts; on one side he opened a wine vault, and on the other an old book stall, and placed over his door the following lines: —
Two different trades united here you’ll find,
Wine to refresh the body, books the mind.
During the American war, Captain Fanshaw’s ship, in company with the frigate commanded by Sir Andrew Snape Hammond, was ordered to throw in some additional forces to our posts on the North River; to effect which service, they would be obliged to sail within point blank of two of the enemy’s most powerful batteries; it was the opinion of the officers, that they would be blown out of the water in attempting it; to which Fanshaw replied, “Look you, gentlemen, we are positively ordered to convey these troops to their destination; and if that order had been to land them in hell, I would have had a thunder at the gate!”
The Count de Villa Medina, being at church one day, and finding there a religious who begged for the souls in purgatory, he gave him a piece of gold. “Ah! my lord,” said the good father, “you have now delivered a soul.” The count threw upon the plate another piece: “Here is another soul delivered,” said the religious. “Are you positive of it?” replied 160 the count. “Yes, my lord,” replied the monk, “I’m certain they are now in heaven.” “Then,” said the count, “I’ll take back my money, for it signifies nothing to you now, seeing the souls are already got to heaven, there can be no danger of their returning again to purgatory.” And he immediately gave the pieces to the poor that were standing by.
A surgeon being sent to a gentleman who had just received a slight wound in a duel, gave orders to his servant to go home with all possible speed and fetch a certain plaster. The patient, turning a little pale, said, “I hope there is no danger.” “Yes, indeed, is there,” answered the surgeon: “for, if the fellow don’t make haste, the wound will heal before he returns.”
Mrs. Souchong. — I wish you would take me to Margate, my dear.”
Mr. Souchong. — I had much rather not, my duck.
But why not, my love?
I can’t afford it, my precious.
Why not afford it, Mr. Souchong?
Because it is very expensive, Mrs. Souchong.
Expensive! why there is neighbour Jenkins and his whole family there now, man.
Neighbour Jenkins is a fool, and his wife no better than she should be, woman.
I think, however, you need not go to abuse my friends, Sir.
161I shall not imitate the example of your friends, Ma’am.
Then if you won’t, I will; that’s poz, husband!
And if you go, you don’t have a penny from me; that’s poz, wife.
The force of language could no further go!
Dr. Thompson, a good physician, was a very great sloven; calling one day on Lord Melcombe, whom he found with his family at breakfast, and seeing a plate of muffins, which as a physician, he had always forbidden; “My lord,” said he, “did I not charge you never to suffer a muffin to appear in your house?” His lordship, seeing the doctor’s coat out at the elbows, and shoes out at the toes, replied, “Doctor, I have an utter aversion to muffins and ragamuffins.”
His Grace of Richmond, being asked why he ordered a captain’s guard to mount in the kitchen, replied, that he wished to accustom the captains to stand fire.
When the affair of Lord Melville was brought forward in the House of Commons, a gentleman mentioned in company that his lordship had quitted his place. “Did you ever,” said a lady present, “hear of a Scotchman quitting his place?” “Yes, Madam,” replied the gentleman, “his native place.”
162Dr. Johnson being asked his opinion of the title of a very small volume, remarkable for its pomposity, replied, “That it was similar to placing an eight-and-forty pounder at the door of a pig-sty.”
A tobacconist having set up his chariot, in order to anticipate the jokes that might be pass’t on the occasion, displayed on it the Latin motto of “Quid rides?” Two sailors who had often used his shop, seeing him pass by in his carriage, the one asked the meaning of the inscription, when his companion said it was plain enough, repeating them as two English words, Quid rides.”
A great crowd being gathered about a poor cobbler, who had just died in the street, a gentleman asked a bystander, who happened to be the well known G. A. Stevens, the facetious author of the “Lecture on Heads,” what was to be seen. The wit, with more humour than the circumstance allowed, replied, “Oh! only a cobbler’s end.”
The following is a literal copy of a letter actually found on Barnes Green (during a fair there), in the month of June, 1818, the original of which is in the possession of the Editor, the 163 only variations made in it are the names; those in the letter the Editor not considering himself justified in using.
June 6, 1818.
Dear daughter this comes With our kind Love to you hoping it will find you in good health as it Leaves us at present thanks be to God for it we have received your Letter and are Glad to hear that you Got safe up and are very glad to hear that you are in Work your Grandmother Gives her love to you your uncle John and your aunt Gives their love to you your uncle Thomas Gives his Love to you John and Marget onions Gives their Love to you John Belcher and his wife Gives their Love to you hoping it will find you in God health as it Leave us present your sister Mary Gives her Love to you.
Ann Trecher And her family Gives their Love to You Mary Tailey Gives her Love to you her keeps her old place with us Jane evenes Gives her love to you and Says her took it very hard as you never called when you went John Right and his wife Gives their Love to you and your old Master has Got a place and your father Works with him and please to bring Elizabeth Treacher a doll. The have not found Joseph hood nor I Dont think the will. And so no more at present from your sincere father and mother Richard and Mary Gubbins. Robert Wrightson Gives his Love to you hoping it will find you in good health as It leaves him at present Green Growes the Laurel and so Does the Rue and sorry was I when I parted with you. the next happy meeting our joys we will renew and Change the Green Willow for the Oring tre Blue the mile stone Shall seem 164 to Fret if ever I your Love forget. The Tree that’s in Blossom It never shall be blighted. the Girl that is constant never shall be slighted. as I walked up the field to view I saw a Couple as the flew one bird alone put me in mind on you My Dear I left behind. he keeps the house we seldom see him when you writ again you must fill the Letter. So no more at Present from your true Leove. Robert Wrightson.
June 6, 1818.
To Be left at
Mr. Whites chiswick Middlesex.
near London for Sarrah
Gubins
A lawyer and a physician lately much obstructed the hilarity of a very jovial company, by introducing a long-winded conversation on the superfluities of life, and how many were its needless wants. A merry fellow, vexed to be thus annoyed, exclaimed, “Very true, gentlemen; I am myself an example of the justness of your remark, having lived all my life without wanting either a lawyer or a physician.”
The king leaning carelessly out of a window, with the skirts of his coat gaping behind, a stout scullion, perceiving the favourable situation, and mistaking the sacred majesty for one of the cooks, advanced on tiptoe, and with a well extended arm, discharged a heavy blow on 165 the royal buttocks. “Zounds!” cried the king, “what the devil’s the matter now?HENRY IV., OF FRANCE” The poor man, thinking himself undone, fell upon his knees, and excused himself by protesting, he had mistaken his majesty for Bertrand. — “Well,” replied the king, rubbing briskly the aching part, “if it had been Bertrand, where was the necessity of striking so cursed hard?” and gave him a louis d’or.
Lord Bulkeley on the morning subsequent to his marriage, communicated his happiness to his friend the Duke of Dorset in the following laconic epistle.
“Dear Dorset,
I am the happiest dog alive.
Yours, Bulkeley.”
To which the answer was —
“Dear Bulkeley,
Every dog has his day.
Yours, Dorset.”
Fletcher, of Saltown, is well known to have possessed a most irritable temper. His footman desiring to be dismissed, “Why do you leave me?” said he. “Because, to speak the truth, I cannot bear your temper.” “To be sure, I am passionate, but my passion is no sooner on than it is off.” “Yes,” replied the servant, “but then it is no sooner off than it is on.”
166Cecil Clay, the counsellor of Chesterfield, caused this whimsical allusion, or pun upon his name, to be put upon his grave-stone; a cypher of two C’s, and underneath, Sum quod fui, I am what I was.
King James I. mounting a horse that was unruly, cried, “The de’el tak my saul, sirrah, an ye be na quiet, I’ll send ye to the Five Hundred kings in the House o’ Commons. They’ll sune tame ye.”
In a country playhouse, after the play was over, and most wretchedly performed, an actor came upon the stage to give out the next play. “Pray,” says a gentleman, “what is the name of the piece you have played to-night?” “The Stage-Coach, Sir.” “Then let me know when you perform it again, that I may be an outside passenger.”
After one of the first musicians had been playing a solo, and shewn a great many tricks upon his instrument, and was receiving applause for his great execution, Lady L——— observed of the performance to Dr. Johnson, how amazingly difficult it must be. “Madam,” said the doctor, “I wish it had been impossible.”
167Two persons quarrelling in a public-house, one told the other he knew what would hang him. “You are a liar,” replied his antagonist, “and I defy you to prove your words;” when the first produced a rope, and said, “This would hang you.”
A young lady, with her eldest sister, was in company where stories of gallantry were told with very minute details. The eldest girl took her sister aside, and said, “Are you able to hear such stories with so much attention, and not blush?” “Indeed, sister,” said the younger vestal, somewhat archly, “indeed I see nothing to blush at; but you may understand the stories better than I, perhaps.”
The late duchess dowager of Bedford meeting once a Cambridge student, asked him how her noble relation did. “Truly, Madam,” says he, “he is a brave fellow, and sticks close to Catherine Hall.” (The name of a college there). “I vow,” said her grace, “I feared as much; for he had always an hankering after the wenches.”
During the civil war some persons of the royal party having mixed with the republicans in company, were talking of their future hopes. 168 “ ’Tis all building castles in the air,” observed a surly republican. “Where can we build them else?” replied a cavalier; “you have robbed us of every inch of land.”
A dignified clergyman, going to his living to spend the summer, met near his house a comical old chimney-sweeper, with whom he used to chat. “So John,” says the doctor, “whence come you?” “From your house, Sir,” says Mr. Soot, “for this morning I swept all your chimnies.” “How many were there?” says the doctor. “No less than twenty,” quoth John. “Well, and how much a chimney have you?” “Only a shilling a-piece, Sir.” “Why then,” quoth the doctor, “you have earned a great deal of money in a little time.” “Yes, yes,” said John, throwing his bag over his shoulder; “we black coats get our money easy enough.”
WE BLACK COATS GET OUR MONEY EASY ENOUGH. Page 168.
A monkey-faced fellow offered himself to Garrick as actor. “It will not do,” says Garrick, “at present, but if you had a tail, no money should part us.”
Two Oxonians dining together, one of them noticing a spot of grease on the neckcloth of his companion, said, “I see you are a Grecian.” “Pooh!” said the other, “that’s far-fetched.” “No, indeed,” said the punster, “I made it on the spot.”
169A carpenter in Dorsetshire was lately employed to make a pair of stocks for the parish, for which he charged a good round sum. One of the parochial officers said, “You have made a good deal by that job.” “Yes,” said Master Chip, “we stock-jobbers always attend to our own interest.”
A certain pettifogging attorney, in Westminster Hall, was complaining to one who was next him, that he sat in pain, pinched by a new suit had just put on. A counsel, who heard him, and knew him well, called out, “It would be well, Mr. S., if that was the only vexatious suit you had brought into this court.”
Two soldiers went into York Minster, while the Rev. the —— was preaching, who frequently made long pauses. After he had finished, one of them asked his companion how he liked the preacher? “Pretty well,” says he, “but he hung fire damnably.” “That he did,” said the other, “I thought he never would have gone off.”
“You are a Jew,” said one man to another; “when I bought this pig of you it was to be a guinea, and now you demand five-and-twenty shillings, which is more than you asked.” 170 “For that very reason,” replied the other, “I am no Jew; for a Jew always takes less than he asks.”
A lady seeing her lover running in great haste to meet her, observed to him that he must be in a great hurry, to run so fast. “Madam,” replied the lover, “I was following my inclination.”
Dr. N—— being in company where one was laying great stress on Echard’s account of Cromwell selling himself to the devil before the battle of Worcester, affirming that the bargain was intended to be for twenty-one years, but that the devil had tricked him by cutting twelve instead of twenty-one; then, turning to the doctor, asked him what he thought could be the devil’s motive for so doing. The doctor said, he could not tell what was his motive, unless he was in a hurry about the restoration.
A servant of Swift’s was excusing himself by telling the dean a number of lies, when the dean stopped him short, “Why you impudent, confounded rascal! how dare you lie after this manner? You pretend to tell lies! you pretend to tell me lies! I, you rascal, who have been acquainted with all the greatest liars of the age! My Lord ——, my Lord ——, Mr. ——, Mr. ——. Get along, you rascal, how dare you tell lies?”
171A tailor who lived near a churchyard in a large town, used to count the number of funerals, by putting a stone into a pot hung up to his shop for that purpose. At his death his house was shut, and on enquiry, it was observed by a next-door neighbour, “that now the tailor himself was gone to pot.”
Two bucks, riding on the western road on a Sunday morning, met a lad driving a flock of sheep towards the metropolis; when one of them accosted him with, “Prithee, Jack, which is the way to Windsor?” “How did you know my name was Jack?” said the boy, staring in their faces. “We are conjurors, young Hobnail,” said the gentlemen laughing. “Oh! you be! then you don’t want I to show you the way to Windsor,” replied the lad, pursuing his journey.
In one of Sir Richard Steele’s drunken frolics, the waiters were hoisting him into a hackney coach, with some difficulty, when a Tory mob was passing by, crying, “Down with the Rumps.” “Up with the rump,” cried Sir Richard, “or I shall not be at home to-night.”
When the late Lord Clive was a boy, and once walking with a school-fellow through 172 Drayton market, the two lads stopped to look at a butcher killing a calf. “Dear me, Bobby,” says the lad, “I would not be a butcher for all the world.” “Why, I should not much like it,” said Clive; “it’s a dirty beggarly business; but I’d a plaguy deal rather be a butcher than a calf.”
Shuter being engaged for a few nights in a principal city, in the north of England, it happened that the stage in which he went down (and in which there was only an old gentleman and himself) was stopped on the other side of Finchley-common by a single highwayman. The old gentleman, in order to save his own money, pretended to be asleep, but Shuter resolved to be even with him. Accordingly, when the highwayman presented his pistol, and commanded Shuter to deliver his money instantly, or he was a dead man, “Money,” returned he, with an idiotic shrug, and a countenance inexpressibly vacant, “Lord, Sir, they never trust me with any; for nuncle here always pays for me, turnpikes and all, your honour.” Upon which the highwayman gave him a few hearty curses for his stupidity, complimented the old gentleman with a smart slap on the face to awaken him, and robbed him of every shilling he had in his pocket: while Shuter, who did not lose a single farthing, with great satisfaction and merriment pursued his journey.
A gentleman in France complained to Santeuil, that he had been cheated by a monk. 173 “What,” said the poet, “a man of your age not to know the monks; dost thou not know there are four things you should ever guard against; the face of a woman, the hind parts of a mule, the side of a cart, and a monk on all sides.”
A buck being taken before a justice that was rather crooked, after the other witnesses were examined. “What have you to say?” said the justice. “Nothing at all,” replied the spark, “for I see you are all on one side.”
A man in the habit of travelling, complaining to his friend that he had often been robbed, and was afraid of stirring abroad, was advised to carry pistols with him on his journey. “Oh! that would be worse,” replied the hero, “the thieves would rob me of them also.”
At a consultation of the minority members, on a day previous to a great question, it was asked who had best open the business? Mr. Fox exclaimed with the tyrant Richard, “Saddle black Surrey (the late Duke of Norfolk) for the field to-morrow.”
Louis XIV. was told that Lord Stair was the best bred man in Europe. “I shall soon put that to the test,” said the king, and asking Lord 174 Stair to take an airing with him, as soon as the door of the coach was opened, he bade him pass and go in — the other bowed and obeyed. The king said, “The world was right in the character it gave of Lord Stair — another person would have troubled me with ceremony.”
Messieur Currado, of Naples, had a servant named Chinchillo, who one night, to treat his mistress, cut off the leg of a crane that was roasting for his master’s supper, who thereupon asked him what was become of the crane’s other leg. Chinchillo immediately swore that cranes had but one leg. The next morning, as he was riding behind his master, he made him, in order to convince him that he was right, observe several cranes at roost upon one leg; but his master shouting, they put down their other leg; whereupon Chinchillo, perceiving that he was angry, cried out, “How lucky it was that you did not shout last night! for your crane would have put down the other leg, and have flown away as these did, and your supper would have gone too.”
Counsellor ——, a dull barrister, got the nickname of Necessity — because Necessity has no law.
Piovano Arloto, a buffoon, boasted that in all his life he never spoke truth. “Except,” replied another, “at this present moment.”
175The late Lee Lewis, shooting on a field, the proprietor attacked him violently; “I allow no person,” said he, “to kill game on my manor but myself, and I’ll shoot you if you come here again.” “What,” said the other, “I suppose you mean to make game of me.”
Dr. Hough, Bishop of Worcester, had a weather-glass which cost thirty guineas. His servant was ordered to bring it into the room to show it to some company, who, in handing it to his lordship, let it fall, and broke it in pieces. The good old man desired they would not be uneasy at the accident. “I think” said he, “it is a lucky omen; — we have had a long dry season, now I hope we shall have rain, for I do not remember ever to have seen the glass so low before.”
Dr. Parr was not very delicate in the choice of his expressions, when heated by argument or contradiction. He once called a clergyman a fool, who, indeed, was little better. The clergyman said, he would complain of this usage to the bishop. “Do,” said the doctor, “and my lord bishop will confirm you.”
Wewitzer, remarking on the heavy taxes which the minister had imposed upon all strong 176 liquors, said, “that the measures had an evident tendency to lower the spirits of the country.”
The Bishop of S—— distrained a tenant’s corn, hay, &c., for rent. The man petitioned his grace to return him his goods again. “Go, go,” said the bishop, “I hear a bad character of thee; thou comest not to church, and hast not received confirmation. I command thee to attend at Easter next.” “I dare not come,” said the man, “for as your lordship hath laid your hand on all my goods — it behoves me to take care of my head.”
Suett being in company where there was a little pragmatical parson, who contradicted every body, exclaimed, “O! never mind him; he is only a little P with an ars-on.”
Mr. Sheridan told Mrs. M. A. Taylor, that she looked blooming as the spring; but recollecting that the spring was not very promising, he added — “I would to God the spring would look like you.”
Ralph Wewitzer, ordering a box of candles, said he hoped they would be better than the last. The chandler said he was very sorry to hear them complained of, as they were as good as he could make. “Why,” said Ralph, 177 “they were very well till half-burnt down, but after that they would not burn any longer.”
On Shakespeare’s monument is inscribed, Amor publicus posuit! Dr. Mead objected to the word Amor, as not being classical — he was overruled by Mr. Pope and others; upon which the doctor repeated the following line: Omnia vincit Amor, et nos cedamus amori!
An etymologist having observed that Ireland meant land of Ire, “Nay,” said a Cockney, “Hireland means a land of slavery.”
A barber was lately brought before a justice, on a charge of having stolen a wig block. In his defence, he confessed to the magistrate, that he had no occasion to steal one, as his worship himself knew that the parish abounded with wig-blocks.
On the expulsion of Mr. Jones from the House of Commons in Ireland, a wag remarked, that this was not In-I-go-Jones, but Out-I-go-Jones.
Louis XIV. was once harangued by a very indifferent orator, to whom his majesty paid a 178 handsome compliment. A lady who was present appeared surprised at the civil things that Louis said to him. “I think indeed, Madam, as you do of the speaker,” said the monarch; “but if a civil word or two render a man happy, he must be a wretch indeed who will not give them to him.”
A knavish attorney asked a very worthy gentleman what was honesty. “What is that to you? — meddle with those things that concern you.”
A tax on all schemers, which from the inventive genius of idleness, would produce annually, at last £900,000.
A tax on all attornies, who were not able to prove, that, in the course of a year’s practice, one eighth of their income was got honestly which, from my knowledge of the fact, would produce half a million.
A tax on liars, which, on an average of only one in a hundred being a man of truth, would produce a sum, not less than sufficient to pay the national debt in two years.
A tax on every person that went to an Italian opera, who did not understand the language; on every person who attended a concert, without a knowledge of music; and on all persons sleeping in church; might produce in one year, £500,000.
A tax upon all gentlemen who boasted of female favours that they never received. This, 179 on an average, might be computed a tax on 9,999 men out of ten thousand, who had attained the age of twenty-one years; and would produce at a moderate interest, per capitum, an annual revenue of £800,000.
A tax on white neck, red cheek, and lilly hands, with a drawback on proving where the pencil of Nature was the only artist, to be collected at the playhouses, Ranelagh, Vauxhall, Kensington, and other places of public diversion, exclusive of demi-reps, who paint in the way of trade, would produce, in the female world, fifty out of every sixty, and among the men, four out of every twenty, liable to impost. I reckon this at £400,000.
A tax on all slander and backbiting; one methodist to be considered as four churchmen, would produce, at a penny per head, ninety-nine persons out of every hundred in the kingdom as subject to the duty.
A tax on all gentlemen coachmen, which, considering the immense increase of great coats with eight capes, would produce, at least, £50,000 per annum.
A tax on all young gentlemen, who had got an university education, and made the grand tour, but who could not construe an ode of Horace, or tell in what part of the world the Alps lay. This, on computation, might produce £20,000 yearly.
A tax on all gentlemen and ladies, indiscriminately, who could not tell, on being asked, in what part of the holy writ the Revelations and the first chapter of Genesis are. This, in the west end of London, would produce something worth the collection.
A tax on every citizen of London who eats more than two pounds of solid meat in twenty-four 180 hours. This tax, as it would prevent apoplexies, and add considerably to the revenue, I thought a very salutary one. But you observing that the aldermen would make up the deficiency, in order to evade the tax, by eating pies, puddings, turtle soups, jellies, &c., I took that article back to re-consider, and have since totally forgot to look into it.
A tax on mock visits, pretended ailments of body, fictitious head-aches, false alarms of pregnancy, and other incidental nonentities in women of fashion, might render six in ten throughout the higher and second orders of the female world liable to duty.
A tax on healthy and sound constitutions among men of fashion. I pointed this duty particularly on the first rank, because with them it is considered a luxury. I dropped it, however, as you may recollect, because, on consideration, it would not pay the fees of collecting.
A tax on all barristers, who, in each half- hour’s pleading said, my lud and your ludship more than fifteen hundred times. You observed this would injure the client, as my lud and your ludship were interjections in law to fill up the vacuity of an advocate’s imagination, when he was at a loss for words to convey the meaning of his argument. I therefore dropped the idea, as I thought every client sufficiently delayed, injured, oppressed, and taxed already.
A tax on all footmen under the age of fifty, and above the height of four feet eleven inches. This I did, that the army might be recruited with genteel good-looking vagabonds, who, from a state of liveried idleness, may be called into regimental activity.
A tax on coffee-house beaux, who call for 181 the Amsterdam Gazette, and the Courier de l’Europe, without being able to understand the meaning of one line in either. This is a tax on vanity, but it will not bring in much.
A tax on real old English hospitality in the houses of great men, as the only means, by making it expensive, to make it fashionable. This will take some time before it will come to perfection; the very idea of domestic conviviality being now so vulgar, as to be turned out of almost every gentleman’s house in Great Britain. You smiled at this idea, shook your head, and said, you feared when the trick was found out, the tax would cease. I think so too, and therefore leave those fashionable people to their new-adopted luxury of smiling without a cause of risibility, of ostentatious parade without inward comfort, and of the appearance of happiness without one particle of real felicity.
Colonel Guise, going over on campaign to Flanders, observed a young raw officer who was in the same vessel with him, and with his usual humanity told him that he would take care of him and conduct him to Antwerp, where they were both going; which he accordingly did, and then took leave of him. The young fellow was soon told by some arch rogues, whom he happened to fall in with, that he must signalize himself by fighting some man of known courage, or he would soon be despised in the regiment. The young man said, he knew no one but Colonel Guise, and he had received great obligations from him. It was all one for that, they said, in these cases; the colonel was the fittest man in the world, as every body knew his bravery. 182 Soon afterwards, up comes the young officer to Colonel Guise, as he was walking up and down the coffee-room, and began in a hesitating manner to tell him how much obliged he had been to him, and how sensible he was of his obligations. “Sir,” replied Colonel Guise, “I have done my duty by you and no more.” “But, colonel,” added the young officer, faultering, “I am told that I must fight some gentleman of known courage, and who has killed several persons, and that nobody” — “Oh, Sir,” interrupted the colonel, “Your friends do me too much honour, but there is a gentleman (pointing to a fierce looking black fellow that was sitting at one of the tables) who has killed half of the regiment.” So up goes the officer to him, and tells him he is well informed of his bravery, and for that reason he must fight him. “Who, I, Sir?” replied the gentleman, “Why, I am the apothecary!”
It is said that Sir Isaac Newton did once in his life go a wooing, and, as was to be expected, had the greatest indulgence paid to his little peculiarities, which ever accompany great genius. Knowing he was fond of smoking, the lady assiduously provided him with a pipe, and they were seated as if to open the business of Cupid. Sir Isaac smoked a few whiffs — seemed at a loss for something — whiffed again — and at last drew his chair near to the lady, a pause of some minutes ensued; he seemed still more uneasy; “Oh, the timidity of some!” thought the lady — when, lo! Sir Isaac got hold of her hand. Now the palpitations began: he will kiss it, no doubt, thought she, and then the matter 183 is settled. Sir Isaac, whiffed with redoubled fury, and drew the captive hand near his head; already the expected salute vibrated from the hand to the heart, when, pity the damsel, gentle reader! Sir Isaac only raised the fair hand, to make the fore-finger what he much wanted — a tobacco-stopper!
A ludicrous circumstance lately occurred at the theatre at Margaret Drayton, Shropshire. The company were performing Pizarro, when, during the hymn to the sun, the lights being placed too close to the transparent scene of that luminary, it unfortunately took fire. The manager, who officiated as high priest, just after singing the words, “O power supreme,” observed the mishap, and, in the utmost consternation, called out to the stage-keeper, “The sun’s on fire!” then proceeding with the hymn, “O power supreme! D——n your eyes, put out the sun I say.” The sun, however, continued to blaze. The audience, notwithstanding their fears, were convulsed with laughter; the fire in the sun being, however, extinguished, the play proceeded.
At the end of Queen Mary’s bloody reign, a commission was granted to one Dr. Cole, a bigoted papist, to go over to Ireland, and commence a fiery persecution against the Protestants of that kingdom. On entering Chester, the doctor was waited upon by the mayor, to whom he showed the commission with great triumph, saying, “Here is what shall lash the 184 heretics of Ireland.” Mrs. Edmonds, the landlady of the inn, hearing these words, when the doctor went down stairs with the mayor, hastened into the room, opened the box, took out the commission, and put a pack of cards in its place. When the doctor returned, he put his box into the portmanteau without suspicion, and the next morning sailed for Dublin. On his arrival, he waited upon the Lord Lieutenant and Privy Council, to whom he made a speech relating to his business, and then presented his box to his lordship; but on opening it, there appeared a a pack of cards with the knave of clubs uppermost. The doctor was petrified, and assured the company he had a commission, but what was become of it he could not tell. The Lord Lieutenant answered, “Let us have another commission, we will shuffle the cards the meanwhile.” Before the doctor could get his commission renewed, the queen died, and thus the persecution was prevented.
Swift preached an assize sermon, and in the course of it was severe upon the lawyers for pleading against their consciences. After dinner a young counsel said some severe things upon the clergy, and did not doubt, were the devil to die, a parson might be found to preach his funeral sermon. “Yes,” says Swift; “I would, and would give the devil his due, as I did his children this morning.”
At a late trial in the court of King’s Bench, in Ireland, Serjeant Joy and Mr. Hope were 185 counsel for the plaintiffs. The case was called by the judge sooner than was expected, and there was only Mr. Hope there, who commenced by requesting the patience of his Lordship and the jury, and assured them that Mr. Joy, who was the leading counsel, would speedily appear. After waiting however, a very considerable time, the judge was obliged to call another cause, observing —
Hope told a flattering tale,
That Joy would soon return.
When Mr. Penn, a young gentleman, well known for his eccentricities, walked from Hyde Park Corner to Hammersmith, for a wager of one hundred guineas, with the Honourable Butler Danvers, several gentlemen who had witnessed the contest spoke of it to the Duchess of Gordon, and added, it was a pity that a man with so many good qualities as this Penn had, should be incessantly playing these unaccountable pranks. “It is so,” said her grace, “but why don’t you advise him better? He seems to be a pen that every body cuts, but nobody mends.”
An attorney in Dean Swift’s company, gave himself great liberties of conversation with him. At length, this impudent limb of the law asked the dean, “Supposing, doctor, that the parsons and the devil should litigate a cause, which party do you think would gain it?” “The devil, no doubt,” replied the dean, “as he would have all the lawyers on his side.”
186David Hume and R. B. Sheridan were crossing the water to Holland, when a high gale arising, the philosopher seemed under great apprehension lest he should go to the bottom. “Why,” said his friend, “that will suit your genius to a tittle; as for my part, I am only for skimming the surface.”
Lord Bacon says, reading makes a full man, writing an exact man, and conversation a ready man.
Sir Thomas More being asked by an impertinent author his opinion of a book, Sir Thomas desired him by all means to put it in verse, and bring him it again, which no sooner was done, than Sir Thomas, looking upon it, said, “Yea, now it is somewhat like; now it is rhyme; before it was neither rhyme nor reason.” Whence the proverb, “It is neither rhyme nor reason.”
A Scotch woman, whose name was Margaret, did nothing but swear and abuse, instead of answering the minister. “Ah, Margaret,” says he, “dinna ye ken where a’ the sinfu’ gang?” “Deel tak’ them that kens as well as them that speers,” cries she. “Ah, Margaret, they gang where there be wailing and gnashing of teeth.” 187 “By my trow, then,” says Margaret, “let them gnash that hae them, for de’el a stump hae I had these twenty years.”
An officer and a lawyer, talking of the disastrous battle of Auerstadt, the former was lamenting the number of brave soldiers who fell on this occasion, when the lawyer observed, that those who live by the sword must expect to die by the sword. “By a similar rule,” answered the officer, “those who live by the law must expect to die by the law.”
The Chevalier de Rohan, meeting, late one evening, Madam de *** alone on one of the galleries at Fontainbleau, asked her what she was in search of? “Nothing,” said she. “By G—d, Madam,” said he, knowing her foible, “I should be sorry to have lost what you seek.”
Mr. O’Kelly presents compliments to Mr. S., sends by the bearer two puppies: one for Mrs. O’Donnel — the other for Miss O’Callaghan: they are both b—hes.
Durable Candles, manufactured and sold by Messrs. Rush and Wick, Tallow-Chandlers, Gutter Lane, Candlewick Ward. — These Candles, are warranted never to gutter, flare, smell, want snuffing, or to burn out; and, provided 188 the mice be kept from them, they will keep any length of time in cool climates. To ensure these superior and desirable qualities, it is only necessary to use one precaution, which is, never to light them. — Sold, for ready money only, in any quantities not less than a dozen pounds.
Some English officers, drinking in their tent, asked the chaplain for a toast. “The King of France.” “What? our foe?” said the colonel. “You live by him,” said the chaplain. The colonel, in his turn gave “the devil.” “Do you mean to affront me?” exclaimed the chaplain. “You live by him,” said the colonel very coolly, “do you not, good doctor?”
Quin sometimes said things at once witty and wise. Disputing concerning the execution of Charles I., “But by what laws,” said his opponent, “was he put to death?” “By all the laws that he had left them.”
Davenport, a tailor, having set up his carriage, asked Foote for a motto. “There is one from Hamlet,” said the wit, “that will match you to a button-hole — List, list! oh list!”
A lame country schoolmaster was hobbling one day to his school-room, he was met by a certain nobleman, who asked his name and vocation. 189 Having declared his name, he added, “and I am master of this parish.” “Master of this parish!” observed the peer, “how can that be?” “I am master of the children of the parish,” said the man; “the children are masters of their mothers; the mothers are the rulers of the fathers; and consequently I am master of the whole parish.”
Wanted for a wine merchant’s house in the city, as a porter, an athletic man, of a serious countenance, a good character, and the Lady Huntingdon’s persuasion; must attend prayers twice a day, and divine service four times on Sunday; be able to bear confinement; have the fear of God before his eyes; and be able to carry two hundred weight. Wages fourteen shillings a week and find himself.
N.B. A Yorkshireman will not be objected to, but no Irishman will be accepted. — Apply to-morrow at one o’clock, to T. D. at No. —, Philpot Land.
Judge ——, a man of delicacy, ordered a trial for a rape to come on at seven o’clock next morning, at which hour he presumed no ladies would attend. He was mistaken, for the gallery was full before the hour appointed. The matter was, a Mr. R. finding a country girl stealing faggots from a stack near his house, demanded certain favours from the culprit, which she readily granted; but afterwards, to 190 squeeze money, prosecuted him for a rape. Upon being acquitted, the judge told him he had a piece of good advice to give him, which was, when females stole his faggots, to be content with some different satisfaction, otherwise, says he, “the ladies in the gallery here will not leave a single stake in your hedge.”
An extravagant young gentleman having for a few days sported a pair of beautiful grey horses, asked a friend of his, who happened to be of a more serious cast, what thought of his greys. “Why, I confess, Ned,” replied the other, “they look extremely beautiful, but take my word for it, your greys will very soon be converted into duns.”
A favourite of a king had a custom of plucking hair from his beard. The king forbid him to do this, under a severe penalty. Some time after, this the man did the king an excellent service. “What shall I give you?” said the king. “A power over my own beard,” replied the sage.
A gentlemen, who lodged in New Bond Street, being confined by illness a long time, his servant was daily accosted by a man whose sole business was a constant inquiry after his master’s health; when the gentleman was recovering, his servant acquainted him of this stranger’s civility; curiosity induced him then 191 to discover who he was; when, lo, he turned out to be an undertaker. It was then agreed between the master and the servant, to make him a proper acknowledgment for his politeness; the servant was accordingly instructed to say, his master was dying, and in a few days after, that he was dead; the instructions were obeyed, the undertaker paid his devoirs to the servant, with a present of two guineas, on being informed he was to have the job. He was next introduced to take measure of the corpse; to which he was proceeding with a face as hypocritical as Judas Iscariot’s, when suddenly the dead alive jumped up, gave him a hearty horsewhipping, and kicked him down stairs.
Dr. R—— maintained that poverty was a virtue. “That,” said Mr. Canning, is literally making a virtue of necessity.”
“Pray, Mr. Hopner,” said Lady C——, “how do you limners contrive to overlook the ugliness and yet preserve the likeness?” “The art, madam,” replied he, “may be conveyed in two words: where nature has been severe we soften, where she has been kind, we aggravate.”
The Duke of Grafton being fox-hunting, near Newmarket, a Quaker, at some distance, upon an adjoining eminence, pulled off his hat and gave a view halloa! The hounds immediately ran to him, and being drawn off the scent, were 192 consequently at fault, which so enraged the duke, that, galloping up to the offender, he asked, in an angry tone, “Art thou a Quaker?” “I am, friend,” replied Broad-brim. “Well, then,” rejoined his grace, “as you never pull off your hat to a Christian, I will thank you in future, not to pay that compliment to a fox.”
Lady F—— had arrived to so extreme a degree of sensibility, that, seeing a man go by with a mutilated wheelbarrow, she cried out to her companion, “Do turn aside, it distresses me above measure to see that poor unfortunate wheelbarrow with one leg.”
EXTREME SENSIBILITY. Page 252.
A sailor had just returned from the West Indies, and sitting, half seas over, in a tap room at Wapping, saw a crowd on the opposite side of the way; and, on inquiring the cause, was told it was a Quaker’s funeral. “A funeral,” says Jack, “that’s new to me; when one of our messmates slips his cable, we hoist him overboard in a blanket, but I never saw one packed up in a box and directed before, so I’ll reconnoitre him.” Accordingly he followed the crowd to the place of interment. The funeral ceremony of the Quakers consists in the mourners ranging themselves on one side of the grave, and waiting a certain time for the inspiration of the spirit. Having taken their station, Jack reeled to the other side, and there observed the contortions of their faces in silent surprise. At length, one of them, being moved by the spirit, made a long face, and drawled out, 193 “Alas! there is no happiness on this side the grave.” On which Jack, whose patience was exhausted, exclaimed, “Then, d—n your eyes, come on this side.”
Dr. E———, recovered from some consumptive disorder, by the use of egg diet, soon after married. W———, the master of University College, Oxford, went to Dr. L———, then sick in bed, and resolved to discharge a pun which he had made. “Well, Sir,” said he, “Dr. E. has been egged on to matrimony.” “Has he so?” said L———, “why, then, I hope the yoke will sit easy.”
Some years past, His Majesty George III. went to Winchester, and slept at the Duke of Gloucester’s house, which the Corporation being informed of, the recorder, with several of the aldermen, waited on the mayor, who was a Mr. P., a barber; they informed him that it was necessary that they should go up with an address for the great honour done them by his majesty visiting the ancient city of Winchester, and he must make a speech on the occasion. The mayor answered, “You know I am but a poor hand at a speech.” “Never mind that,” said the recorder, “I’ll stand behind you, and in a low voice tell you what to say: you have only to repeat after me.” “O that will do,” said the mayor. On the following day they went in grand procession to the council chamber, where his Majesty being seated, and they being introduced to the royal presence, 194 they all made their profound bows, and the recorder got behind the mayor, and whispered, “Hold up your head like a man.” He, concluding it to be a part of the speech, stretched out his right hand, and, in a loud voice bawled out to the king, “Hold up your head, and look like a man.” The king stared, as well as the lords in waiting; when the recorder again whispered, “O I’ll be d—mned if you have not ruined us all!” The mayor still conceiving this to be a part of speech, again halloed out, in a threatening tone, to his majesty, “for by G—d you have ruined us all!” The king conceiving the mayor to be mad, or that it was a premeditated insult, instantly arose, and left the council chamber; but, upon its being represented to his majesty, he enjoyed it, and laughed heartily at it, saying, “Poor mayor! poor mayor! very bad hand, bad hand at a speech.’
A lord-lieutenant, going over to Ireland with his lady and family, was in his passage overtaken by so violent a storm, that the mariners themselves gave the vessel over for lost, and expected every instant that she would either founder or go ashore. At this juncture, a sailor observing one of the menial servants standing pale with fear at the cabin door, came up with him, and asked him if ever he had lain with the duchess? “No,” says the poor fellow, frightened at such waggery, in such a dangerous time. “Why, then,” says the tar, “you have that pleasure to come; for, by G—d, we shall all lie with her grace in less than half an hour.” The duke, who overheard this, when the storm abated, and 195 the danger was over, sent the fellow a handsome present, and forgave him the impudence of the joke for the sake of the jest.
The conversation of a company was interrupted by a man, who asked, impertinently, whether there had ever been a stronger man in the world than Hercules. “You yourself,” said one, “for you have brought in Hercules by the head and shoulders.”
An Irish soldier in General Washington’s army, strolling out alone in a wood near the camp, came up with five Hessians belonging to the English army, and presenting his piece, called out to surrender; they did so, supposing there were more at hand of the enemy. The general going that way with a guard secured them, and asked him how he alone could take five prisoners. “Please, your honour,” said Paddy, “by Jasus, I surrounded them.”
The late Duchess of Kingston, who was remarkable for having a very high sense of her own dignity, being one day detained in her carriage by a cart of coals that was unloading in the street, she leaned with both her arms upon the door, and asked the fellow, “How dare you, sirrah, stop a woman of quality in the street?” “Woman of quality,” replied the man. “Yes, fellow,” rejoined her grace, “don’t you see my arms upon my carriage?” 196 “Yes, I do, indeed,” says he, “and a pair of plaguy coarse arms they are.”
Boileau was very exact as to his time of keeping his engagements at dinner, &c., with this satiric and true observation, that the quarter of an hour, which a person makes a company wait for him at dinner, is employed in finding out his faults, or inventing them.
George II. one day sent for Mr. Pelham, in a rage, to know why the civil list was not paid. The minister said, the money destined for that had been appropriated to another use, then more urgent. The king, with an oath, told Mr. Pelham, that if he did not pay it, he must get another minister who would. “I will not,” said his majesty, “be the only gentleman in the kingdom who does not pay his servants’ wages.”
It is said hunger will break through a stone wall, or any thing but Suffolk cheese — a Suffolk cheese cannot be cut but with a hatchet. A parcel being sent to India in an iron chest, the rats, allured by the smell, cut through the chest, but could not penetrate the cheese.
A gentleman, who saw Wilkes’s coach drawn by men, the horses being taken off, told the 197 lord mayor he had lost his handkerchief in the crowd. “Very possibly,” said his lordship, “I fancy one of W.’s coach horses has picked your pocket.”
A father was once going to preach upon the text of the Samaritan woman, and, after reading it, he said, “Do not wonder, my beloved, that the text is so long, for it is a woman that speaks.”
Sir Godfrey Kneller showing Pope some portraits of beautiful women of his taking, the poet told him, with a sneer, it was a pity he had not been consulted in the creation. “Why,” says Sir Godfrey, looking at Pope, “I think I could have made some things better.”
A woman having fallen into a river, her husband went to look for her, proceeding up the stream from the place where she fell in. The bystanders asked him if he was mad; she could not have gone against the stream. The man answered, she was obstinate and contrary in her life, and supposed for certain she was the same at her death.
The pope, when one of his former intimates, before he was advanced to the popedom, did not 198 affect his company, presuming he was busy in governing the Christian world; the pope sent for him, and charged him to come, and said, “We will be merry, as we were before, for thou little thinkest what a little foolery governs the world.”
A gallant soldier was once heard to say, that his only measure of courage was this: “Upon the first fire, I immediately look upon myself as a dead man; I then fight out the remainder of the day, as regardless of danger as a dead man should be. All the limbs which I carry out of the field I regard as so much gained, or as so much saved out of the fire.”
When it was debated about sending bishops to America, much was said pro and con. One gentleman wondered that any body should object to it: “For my part,” said he, “I wish all our bishops were sent to America.”
Match against Time. — An artist, in the general line of practice as a barber-surgeon, offers to bet any noble or ignoble amateur of the fancy half the profits arising from the occasion (the other half to be patriotically applied toward liquidating the national debt), that he will this day, April the first, exhibit his skill and dexterity by shaving, bleeding, and drawing a tooth, from five hundred of his majesty’s liege subjects, if so many will honour him with the 199 opportunity, which he pledges shall be performed with comfort, ease, and despatch. None with Spafields principles, or mongrel Whigs, need apply, as they may depend on being roughly handled. — For address, terms, and testimonials for ability, the readers are referred to a work published some time since, under the title of Salmagundi; wherein it is set forth that
In Liquorpond-street, as is well known to many,
An artist resides who will shave for one penny;
Cuts hair for twopence; for threepence you’re
bled;
And for fourpence will draw any tooth in your
head.
Lord Holland assured a young lady that he would do any thing to serve her. “If I were poor and necessitous,” said the lady, “I make no doubt but you would express yourself in different terms.” “Indeed, madam, I would not,” replied his lordship, “for if you were naked I would serve you.”
When Dr. Johnson had finished the copy of his Dictionary, which had wearied Millar, the bookseller, exceedingly, the latter sent the following card to the doctor: — “Andrew Millar sends his compliments to Mr. Samuel Johnson, with the money for the last sheet of the copy of the Dictionary, and thanks God he has done with him.” The doctor sent the following brief reply, “Dr. Samuel Johnson sends his compliments to Andrew Millar; he has received his 200 note, and is happy to find that Andrew Millar had the grace to thank God for any thing.”
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