The late Caleb Whitfoord, finding his nephew, Charles Smith, playing the violin, the following bits took place:
W. I fear, Charles, you lose a great deal of time with this fiddling.
S. Sir, I endeavour to keep time.
W. You mean rather to kill time.
S. No, I only beat time.
JOHN KEMBLE MURDERING TIME.
When Kemble was rehearsing the romance sung by Richard Cœur de Lion, Shaw, the leader of the band, called out from the orchestra, "Mr. Kemble, my dear Mr. Kemble, you are murdering time." Kemble, calmly and coolly taking a pinch of snuff, said, "My dear Sir, it is better for me to murder Time at once than be continually beating him as you do."
SHERIDAN ON LOVE FOR LOVE.
Sheridan complained that Congreve's "Love for Love," had been so much altered and modified to suit the delicate ears of modern mawkishness, that it was quite spoiled. It is now (said he) like modern marriages, with very little of "Love for Love" in it. "His plays," said the wit, "are, I own, somewhat licentious, but it is barbarous to mangle them: they are like horses; when you deprive them of their vice, they lose their vigour."
THE MORNING POST ON PREFERMENT.
An auctioneer having turned publican, was soon after thrown into the King's Bench; on which the following paragraph appeared in the Morning Post: "Mr. A., who lately quitted the pulpit for the bar, has been promoted to the bench."
SIR J. PARNELL
Became a general toast in Ireland after the Union, by which he lost his place, or, as he once said, "his bread and butter." When lamenting his loss, he was told, "Ah! but it's amply made up to you in toast."