ANECDOTE.
When Charles II was on a progress through his dominions, he was waited upon by the magistracy of a certain city in the north of England. The Mayor had prepared with no little study a splendid oration for so memorable an occasion. Kneeling down to deliver his address the worthy Magistrate (who was excessively fat) commenced by a feu dejoy of rather a singular nature: whether he deemed an expression of loyalty tantamount to a royal salute of the present day, history is silent: certain it is, he felt greatly embarrassed, and blundered his oration most woefully. “I have, please your Majesty, begun at the wrong end,” cried the good Mayor, endeavouring to apologize for the incoherency of his speech. “So I remarked,” replied the facetious monarch, “but I fear the mistake can’t now be corrected:—Rise up, Sir Walter Cannon.”