A young lady marrying a man she loved, and leaving many friends in town, to retire with him into the country, Mrs. D. said prettily, "She has turned one-and-twenty shillings into a guinea."
CXIX.—ON A STONE THROWN AT A VERY GREAT MAN, BUT WHICH MISSED HIM.
Talk no more of the lucky escape of the head
From a flint so unluckily thrown;
I think very diff'rent, with thousands indeed,
'Twas a lucky escape for the stone.
CXX.—A MAN OF LETTERS.
When Mr. Wilkes was in the meridian of his popularity, a man in a porter-house, classing himself as an eminent literary character, was asked by one of his companions what right he had to assume such a title. "Sir," says he, "I'd have you know, I had the honor of chalking number 45 upon every door between Temple Bar and Hyde Park-corner."
CXXI.—WELSH WIG-GING.
An Englishman and a Welshman, disputing in whose country was the best living, said the Welshman, "There is such noble housekeeping in Wales, that I have known above a dozen cooks employed at one wedding dinner."—"Ay," answered the Englishman, "that was because every man toasted his own cheese."
CXXII.—A SPRIG OF SHILLALAH.
A fellow on the quay, thinking to quiz a poor Irishman, asked him, "How do the potatoes eat now, Pat?" The Irish lad, who happened to have a shillalah in his hand, answered, "O! they eat very well, my jewel, would you like to taste the stalk?" and knocking the inquirer down, coolly walked off.