Host. "Michael, didn't I tell you to decant the best claret?"
Michael. "You did, sorr." Host. "But this isn't the best."
Michael. "No, sorr; but it's the best you've got!"
"THE HARP IN THE AIR"
Irish Gentleman (who has vainly endeavoured to execute a jig to the fitful music of the telegraph wires). "Shure! whoiver y'are ye can't play a bit! How can a jintleman dance—(hic!)—iv ye don't kape thime?"!!