A chemist asserted that all bitter things were hot. "No," said a gentleman present, "there is a bitter cold day."
MCDLXXI.—PLAYER, OR LORD.
One day, at a party in Bath, Quin said something which caused a general murmur of delighted merriment. A nobleman present, who was not distinguished for the brilliancy of his ideas, exclaimed: "What a pity 'tis, Quin, my boy, that a clever fellow like you should be a player!" Quin, fixing and flashing his eyes upon the speaker, replied: "Why! what would your lordship have me be?—a lord?"
MCDLXXII.—IN MEMORIAM.
Soyer is gone! Then be it said,
At last, indeed, great Pan is dead.
MCDLXXIII.—PRIME'S PRESERVATIVE.
Sergeant Prime had a remarkably long nose, and being one day out riding, was flung from his horse, and fell upon his face in the middle of the road. A countryman, who saw the occurrence, ran hastily up, raised the sergeant from the mire, and asked him if he was much hurt. The sergeant replied in the negative. "I zee, zur," said the rustic, grinning, "yer ploughshare saved ye!"
MCDLXXIV.—A SHARP BRUSH.
Sheridan was down at Brighton one summer, when Fox, the manager, desirous of showing him some civility, took him all over the theatre, and, exhibited its beauties. "There, Mr. Sheridan," said Fox, who combined twenty occupations, without being clever in any, "I built and painted all these boxes, and I painted all these scenes."—"Did you?" said Sheridan, surveying them rapidly; "well, I should not, I am sure, have known you were a Fox by your brush."