DCCLXXVIII.—A SHORT JOURNEY.
An old clergyman one Sunday, at the close of the sermon, gave notice to the congregation that in the course of the week he expected to go on a mission to the heathen. One of his parishioners, in great agitation, exclaimed, "Why, my dear sir, you have never told us one word of this before; what shall we do?"—"O, brother," said the parson, "I don't expect to go out of this town."
DCCLXXIX.—A POSER BY LORD ELLENBOROUGH.
During the Chief-Justiceship of the late Lord Ellenborough there was a horse-cause, to which a certain Privy Councillor was a party, and who, as of right, took his seat upon the bench at the hearing, and there (while his adversary's counsel told his tale) ventured a whisper of remark to the Chief Justice. "If you again address me, Sir W——, I shall give you in custody of the Marshal." It was a settler for him, and, as it turned out, of his cause; for he lost it, and most justly too.
DCCLXXX.—EPIGRAM.
Cries Sylvia to a Reverend Dean,
"What reason can be given,
Since marriage is a holy thing,
That there are none in Heaven?"
"There are no women," he replied.
She quick returns the jest,—
"Women there are, but I'm afraid
They cannot find a priest."
DCCLXXXI.—AN ARTISTIC TOUCH.
When Moore was getting his portrait painted by Newton, Sydney Smith, who accompanied the poet, said to the artist, "Couldn't you contrive to throw into his face somewhat of a stronger expression of hostility to the Church Establishment?"