688. An Irish soldier pretending dumbness, and the surgeon of the regiment, after several attempts to restore him, declaring him incurable, was discharged. He, a short time afterwards enlisted in another corps, and being recognized by an old comrade, and questioned how he learned to speak? By the powers, replied Terence, ten guineas would make any man speak.
689. A singer once complaining to Mr. Jeffery, that himself and his brother (both of whom were deemed simpletons), had been ordered to take ass’s milk, but that on account of its expensiveness, he hardly knew what they should do. Do! cried Mr. Jeffery, why suck one another, to be sure.
690. A Cantab, one day observing a ragamuffin-looking boy scratching his head at the door of Stevenson, the bookseller, in Cambridge, where he was begging, and thinking to pass a joke upon him, said, So, Jack, you are picking them out, are you? Nah, sar, retorted the urchin, I takes ’em as they come!
691. An Irish gardener seeing a boy stealing some fruit, swore, if he caught him there again, he’d lock him up in the ice-house, and warm his jacket.
692. Swift’s Stella, who was an Irish lady, being extremely ill, her physician said, Madam, you are certainly near the bottom of the hill, but we shall endeavour to get you up again. She replied, Doctor, I am afraid I shall be out of breath before I get to the top again.
693. A lady observing in company, how glorious and useful a body the sun was,—Why, yes, madam, said an Irish gentleman present, the sun is a very fine body, to be sure; but, in my opinion, the moon is much more useful; for the moon affords us light in the night-time, when we really want it; whereas we have the sun with us in the day-time, when we have no occasion for it.
694. Doctor Lucas, the celebrated Irish patriot, having, after a very sharp contest, carried the election as a representative in parliament for the city of Dublin, was met, a few days after, by a lady whose whole family were very warm in the interest of the unsuccessful candidate; Well, doctor, said she, I find you have gained the election. Yes, madam. No wonder, sir: all the blackguards voted for you. No, madam, your two sons did not, returned the doctor.
695. Anthony Pasquin one day leaning over the Margate Pier, after a tremendous storm on the preceding night, You have had a blustering night of it, said he, to an Irish sailor, who stood near him, but after a storm comes a calm. By my sowl, and so it ought, said Pat, for the winds and the waves had a hard night’s bout of it, and it’s time for them to rest themselves.