BULL AND NO BULL.
"I was going," said an Irishman, "over Westminster Bridge the other day, and I met Pat Hewins—'Hewins,' says I, 'how are you?'—'Pretty well,' says he, 'thank you, Donnelly.'—'Donnelly,' says I, 'that's not my name.'— 'Faith, no more is mine Hewins,' says he. So we looked at each other again, and sure it turned out to be neither of us—and where's the bull of that now?"