If truth, perspicuity, wit, gravity, and every property pertaining to the ancient or modern epitaph, may be expected united in one single epitaph, it is in one made for Burbadge, the tragedian, in the days of Shakespeare,—the following being the whole,—Exit Burbadge.
Jerrold, perhaps, trumped this by his anticipatory epitaph on that excellent man and distinguished historian, Charles Knight,—"Good Knight."
MCXLII.—NATIONAL PREJUDICE.
Foote being told of the appointment of a Scotch nobleman, said, "The Irish, sir, take us all in, and the Scotch turn us all out."
MCXLIII.—GRANDILOQUENCE.
A boasting fellow was asked, "Pray, sir, what may your business be?"—"O," replied the boaster, "I am but a cork-cutter: but then it is in a very large way!"—"Indeed!" replied the other; "then I presume you are a cutter of bungs?"
MCXLIV.—THE LETTER C.
Curious coincidences respecting the letter C, as connected with the Princess Charlotte, daughter of George IV.:—Her mother's name was Caroline, her own name was Charlotte; that of her consort Cobourg; she was married at Carlton House; her town residence was at Camelford House, the late owner of which, Lord Camelford, was untimely killed in a duel; her country residence Claremont, not long ago the property of Lord Clive, who ended his days by suicide; she died in Childbed, the name of her accoucheur being Croft.
MCXLV.—PRACTICAL RETORT.
In a country theatre there were only seven persons in the house one night. The pit took offence at the miserable acting of a performer, and hissed him energetically; whereupon the manager brought his company on the stage, and out-hissed the visitors.