An overbearing barrister, endeavoring to brow-beat a witness, told him he could plainly see a rogue in his face. "I never knew till now," said the witness, "that my face was a looking-glass."
CDXLVII.—FOOTE.
An artist named Forfeit, having some job to do for Foote, got into a foolish scrape about the antiquity of family with another artist, who gave him such a drubbing as confined him to his bed for a considerable time. "Forfeit! Forfeit!" said Foote, "why, surely you have the best of the argument; your family is not only several thousand years old, but at the same time the most numerous of any on the face of the globe, on the authority of Shakespeare:—
"All the souls that are, were Forfeit once."
CDXLVIII.—INQUEST EXTRAORDINARY.
Died from fatigue, three laundresses together all,
Verdict,—had tried to wash a shirt marked Wetherall.[A]
[A] Sir Charles Wetherall was noted for want of cleanliness.
CDXLIX.—A BASE ONE.
A friend was one day reading to Jerrold an account of a case in which a person named Ure was reproached with having suddenly jilted a young lady to whom he was engaged. "Ure seems to have turned out to be a base 'un," said Jerrold.