Part 29 (1/2)

(On Mr. Croker's reputation for being a wag.)

THEY say his _wit's refined_! Thus is explained The seeming mystery--_his wit is strained_.

DXVIII.--A NICE DISTINCTION.

”WHAT is the difference,” asked Archbishop Whately of a young clergyman he was examining, ”between a form and a ceremony? The meaning seems nearly the same; yet there is a very nice distinction.” Various answers were given. ”Well,” he said, ”it lies in this: you sit upon a _form_, but you stand upon _ceremony_.”

DXIX.--LATE DINNER.

SOME one remarking that the dinner hour was always getting later and later, ”Ay,” quoth Rogers, ”it will soon end in our not dining till _to-morrow_.”

DXX.--AN OLD JOKE.

AS a wag at a ball, to a nymph on each arm Alternately turning, and thinking to charm, Exclaimed in these words, of which Quin was the giver-- ”You're my Gizzard, my dear; and, my love, you're my Liver.”

”Alas!” cried the Fair on his left--”to what use?

For you never saw _either served up_ with a goose!”

DXXI.--TIME WORKS WONDERS.

A GENTLEMAN dining at a hotel, whose servants were ”few and far between,” despatched a lad among them for a cut of beef. After a long time the lad returned, and was asked by the faint and hungry gentleman, ”Are you the lad who took away my plate for this beef?”--”Yes, sir.”--”Bless me,” resumed the hungry wit, ”how _you have grown_!”

DXXII.--A NOVEL IDEA.

”MORROW'S Library” is the Mudie of Dublin; and the Rev. Mr. Day, a popular preacher. ”How inconsistent,” said Archbishop Whately, ”is the piety of certain ladies here. They go to _Day_ for a sermon and to _Morrow_ for a novel!”

DXXIII.--THE SPIRIT AND THE LETTER.

A MAN was described in a plea as ”I. Jones,” and the pleader referred in another part of the plea to ”I” as an ”initial.” The plaintiff said that the plea was bad, because ”I” was not a name. Sir W. Maule said that there was no reason why a man might not be christened ”I” as well as Isaac, inasmuch as either could be p.r.o.nounced alone. The counsel for the plaintiff then objected that the plea admitted that ”I” was not a name by describing it as ”an initial.”--”Yes,” retorted the judge, ”but it does not aver that it is not a _final_ as well as an _initial_ letter.”

DXXIV.--LOSING AN I.

A MAN being interrogated on a trial, spoke several words with much impropriety; and at last saying the word _curosity_, a counsellor exclaimed, ”How that fellow murders the English language!”--”Nay,”

returned another, ”he has only knocked an _I_ out.”

DXXV.--DRIVING IT HOME.

THE late James Fergusson, Clerk of Session, a most genial and amiable man, of whose periodical fits of absence most edifying stories are still repeated by his friends, was an excellent and eloquent speaker, but in truth, there was often more sound than matter in his orations. He had a habit of lending emphasis to his arguments by violently beating with his clenched hand the bar before which he pleaded. Once when stating a case to Lord Polkemmet, with great energy of action, his lords.h.i.+p interposed, and exclaimed, ”Maister Jemmy, dinna dunt; ye think ye're duntin't _into_ me, and ye're just duntin't _out o' me_.”

DXXVI.--THE EMPTY GUN.

AS d.i.c.k and Tom in fierce dispute engage, And, face to face, the noisy contest wage; ”Don't _c.o.c.k_ your chin at me,” d.i.c.k smartly cries.