Part 20 (2/2)

CCCLXVIII.--FISHY, RATHER.

LORD ELLENBOROUGH, on his return from Hone's trial, suddenly stopped his carriage at Charing Cross, and said, ”It occurs to me that they sell the best herrings in London at that shop. Buy six.”

CCCLXIX.--LIGHT BREAD.

A BAKER has invented a new kind of yeast. It makes bread so light that a _pound_ of it weighs only _twelve_ ounces.

CCCLXX.--SOMETHING LIKE AN INSULT.

THE late Judge C---- one day had occasion to examine a witness who stuttered very much in delivering his testimony. ”I believe,” said his lords.h.i.+p, ”you are a very great rogue.”--”Not so great a rogue as _you_ my lord,--t-t-t-take me to be.”

CCCLXXI.--ON CHARLES KEAN, THE ACTOR.

AS Romeo, Kean, with awkward grace, On velvet rests, 'tis said; Ah! did he seek a softer place, He'd rest upon his head.

CCCLXXII.--POLITICAL CORRUPTION.

CURRAN, when opposed to Lord Clare, said that he reminded him of a chimney-sweep, who had raised himself by dark and dusky ways, and then called aloud to his neighbors to witness his _dirty_ elevation.

CCCLXXIII.--A QUAKERLY OBJECTION.

A QUAKER being asked his opinion of phrenology, replied indignantly, ”Friend, there can be no good in a science that compels a man to _take off_ his hat!”

CCCLXXIV.--A GOOD-HEARTED FELLOW.

IN a valedictory address an editor wrote: ”If we have offended any man in the short but brilliant course of our public career, let him send us a _new hat_, and we will then forget the past.” A cool chap that!

CCCLXXV.--EPIGRAM ON THE DEATH OF FOOTE.

FOOTE, from his earthly stage, alas! is hurled, Death _took him off, who took off all_ the world.

CCCLXXVI.--THE ANGRY OCEAN.

”MOTHER, this book tells about the angry waves of the ocean. Now, what makes the ocean get angry?”--”Because it has been _crossed_ so often, my son.”

CCCLXXVII.--BREVITY.

DR. ABERNETHY, the celebrated physician, was never more displeased than by hearing a patient detail a long account of troubles. A woman, knowing Abernethy's love of the laconic, having burned her hand, called at his house. Showing him her hand, she said, ”A burn.”--”A poultice,” quietly answered the learned doctor. The next day she returned, and said, ”Better.”--”Continue the poultice,” replied Dr. A. In a week she made her last call and her speech was lengthened to three words, ”Well,--your fee?”--”Nothing,” said the physician; ”you are the most sensible woman I ever saw.”

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