“In one of the volumes, collected from various quarters, which were sent to me for this purpose, I observe the name of William Hone, and notice it that I may take the opportunity of recommending his Every-day Book and Table Book to those who are interested in the preservation of our national and local customs. By these curious publications, their compiler has rendered good service in an important department of literature; and he may render yet more, if he obtain the encouragement which he well deserves.”
BUNYAN’S ESCAPES.
Bunyan had some providential escapes during his early life. Once, he fell into a creek of the sea, once out of a boat into the river Ouse, near Bedford, and each time he was narrowly saved from drowning. One day, an adder crossed his path. He stunned it with a stick, then forced open its mouth with a stick and plucked out the tongue, which he supposed to be the sting, with his fingers; “by which act,” he says, “had not God been merciful unto me, I might, by my desperateness, have brought myself to an end.” If this, indeed, were an adder, and not a harmless snake, his escape from the fangs was more remarkable than he himself was aware of. A circumstance, which was likely to impress him more deeply, occurred in the eighteenth year of his age, when, being a soldier in the Parliament’s army, he was drawn out to go to the siege of Leicester, in 1645. One of the same company wished to go in his stead; Bunyan consented to exchange with him, and this volunteer substitute, standing sentinel one day at the siege, was shot through the head with a musket-ball. “This risk,” Sir Walter Scott observes, “was one somewhat resembling the escape of Sir Roger de Coverley, in an action at Worcester, who was saved from the slaughter of that action, by having been absent from the field.”—Southey.
DROLLERY SPONTANEOUS.
More drolleries are uttered unintentionally than by premeditation. There is no such thing as being “droll to order.” One evening a lady said to a small wit, “Come, Mr. ——, tell us a lively anecdote;” and the poor fellow was mute the rest of the evening.
“Favour me with your company on Wednesday evening—you are such a lion,” said a weak party-giver to a young littérateur. “I thank you,” replied the wit, “but, on that evening I am engaged to eat fire at the Countess of ——, and stand upon my head at Mrs. ——.”