When Admiral Cornwallis commanded the Canada, a mutiny broke out in the ship, on account of some accidental delay in paying the crew. The men signed a round robin, wherein they declared that they would not fire a gun till they were paid. Captain Cornwallis, on receiving this declaration, caused all hands to be called on deck, and thus addressed them: "My lads, the money cannot be paid till we return to port, and as to your not fighting, that is mere nonsense:—I'll clap you alongside the first large ship of the enemy I see, and I know that the Devil himself will not be able to keep you from it." The men all returned to their duty, better satisfied than if they had been paid the money ten times over.
DXLVIII.—VERSE AND WORSE.
Among a company of cheerful Irishmen, in the neighborhood of St. Giles, it was proposed by the host to make a gift of a couple of fowls to him that, off-hand, should write six lines in poetry of his own composing. Several of the merry crew attempted unsuccessfully to gain the prize. At length the wittiest among them thus ended the contest:—
"Good friends, as I'm to make a po'm,
Excuse me, if I just step home;
Two lines already!—be not cru'l,
Consider, honeys,—I'm a fool.
There's four lines!—now I'll gain the fowls,
With which I soon shall fill my bow'ls."
DXLIX.—THE IRON DUKE.
It is said the Duke of Wellington bought a book of the "Hunchback" at Covent Garden Theatre, for which he gave a pound in gold, refusing to receive the difference. His Grace seemed very ready to sacrifice a sovereign, which he probably would have done had he at the time refused to take no change. The Reform Bill was under consideration.
DL.—CLEAR THE COURT.
An Irish crier at Ballinasloe being ordered to clear the court, did so by this announcement: "Now, then, all ye blackguards that isn't lawyers, must lave the coort."
DLI—SCOTCH CAUTION.
An old shoemaker in Glasgow was sitting by the bedside of his wife, who was dying. She took him by the hand. "Weel, John, we're gawin to part. I hae been a gude wife to you, John."—"O, just middling, just middling, Jenny," said John, not disposed to commit himself. "John," says she, "ye maun promise to bury me in the auld kirk-yard at Stra'von beside my mither. I couldna rest in peace among unco folk, in the dirt and smoke o' Glasgow."—"Weel, weel, Jenny, my woman," said John soothingly, "we'll just pit you in the Gorbals first, and gin ye dinna lie quiet, we'll try you sine in Stra'von."