A farmer, in the neighbourhood of Doncaster, was met by his landlord, who accosted him thus, “John, I intend to raise your rent;” to which John replied, “Sir, I am very much obliged to you, for I cannot raise it myself.”
MRS. SIDDONS.
At the time when Mrs. Siddons had just reached her high theatrical fame, and had acted some of her principal characters to the admiration of all who beheld her, a formal assembly of learned ladies, consisting of Mrs. Montagu, Mrs. Carter, Miss Hannah More, and sundry other members of the bas bleu met, and prevailed upon Mrs. Siddons to be of the party. Their object was to examine her, and to get from her the secret how she could act with such wonderful effect. Mrs. Montagu was deputed to be the prolocutress of this female convocation. “Pray, madam,” said she to Mrs. Siddons, addressing her in the most formal manner, “give me leave to interrogate you, and to request you will tell us, without duplicity or mental reservation, upon what principle you conduct your dramatic demeanor. Is your mode of acting, by which you obtain so much celebrity, the result of certain studied principles of art? Have you investigated, with profound research, the rules of elocution and gesture, as laid down by the ancients and moderns, and reduced them to practice? or do you suffer nature to predominate, and only speak the untutored language of the passions?” “Ladies,” said the modern Thalia, with great diffidence, but without hesitation, “I do not know how to answer so learned a speech. All I know of the matter, and all I can tell you is that I always act as well as I can.”
A GOOD THING WELL APPLIED.
Dr. Henniker being in private conversation with the late Earl of Chatham, his Lordship asked him, among other questions, how he defined wit? “My lord,” said the doctor, “wit is like what a pension would be, given by your lordship to your humble servant, a good thing well applied.”
ENTERTAINING ANGELS.
A vagrant called at a house on a Sunday and begged for some cider. The lady refused to give him any, when he reminded her of the oft-quoted remark, that she “might entertain an angel unawares.” “Yes,” said she, “but angels don’t go about drinking cider on Sundays.”
A YOUNG LADY’S WAIST.
Dr. Wing, being asked where a young lady’s waist began, replied, “At the altar. The moment they have you trapped, they come down upon your pocket-book like a hawk upon a May bug. After they are married they are all waste.” What a libellous fellow!