“No, by the great St. Patrick, I’ll niver mistake the likes again,” he earnestly interrupted, when I went on, saying,—
“Then in half an hour give him another tea-spoonful, and that will relieve the ‘gnawing at his stomach,’ and by an hour I’ll drive round there and see him, on my way to Watertown.”
“I’ll trust to yeze to git it out of him. God bless yeze;” and away he darted, saying, “O, howly mother! that I should give him saleratus for sugar!”
His last Joke.
A celebrated English physician, who was also a distinguished humorist, when about to die, requested that none of his friends be invited to his funeral.
A friend inquired the reason of this remarkable request.
“Because,” sighed the dying but polite humorist, “it is a courtesy which can never be returned.”
Charles Matthews, the celebrated comedian, who died in 1837, put the above entirely in the shade by his last joke.
The attending physician had left Mr. Matthews some medicine in a vial, which a friend was to administer during the night. By mistake, he gave the patient some ink from a vial which stood near. On discovering the error, his friend exclaimed, “O, gracious Heavens, Matthews, I have given you ink, instead of medicine.”
“Never—never mind, my dear boy,” said the dying man faintly; “I will swallow a piece of blotting paper.”