“I have seen the king,” says a writer of memoirs, “not once, but often, eat four plates of different soups, an entire pheasant, a partridge, a dish full of salad, a piece of ham, a slice of mutton with gravy, and large quantities of all kinds of confitures.”
IGNORANCE OF A FRENCH CURÉ.
A French Curé, in a sequestrated part of the south of France, inquired of an English traveller whether English women wore rings in their noses? to which he replied, “that, in the north of England, near China, it was possible they might, but certainly not in London.”
WORDSWORTH’S OPINION OF HIMSELF.
Among his contemporaries, Wordsworth was generally thought to entertain a very high opinion of himself. At a large dinner party where Sir Humphry Davy was present, he suddenly, in the most epic tone, called from the top of the table to the bottom, “Davy!” and on Davy putting forth his head in awful expectation of what was coming, said, “Do you know why I published the ‘White Doe’ in quarto?” “No, what was it?” “To show the world my own opinion of it.”
A COUNTRY DINNER.
On a certain occasion Sydney Smith set off to dine with a neighbouring clergyman. After toiling along a dusty road, he reached the parsonage hungry and weary. Seated in a small hot-room, a stripling opened the door and beckoned our host out of the room. In a short time he returned looking greatly distressed, saying, “The woman assisting in the kitchen had mistaken the soup for dirty water, and had thrown it out, and so we must do without it.” At last, dinner was announced to our great joy, but, oh ye gods, as we entered the dining room what a gale met our nose! the venison was high, the venison was uneatable, and was obliged to follow on the soup with all speed.
THE HIGHLANDER AND SIR SYDNEY SMITH.
Sir James Mackintosh on one occasion went to sup with Sydney Smith, accompanied by a raw Scotch cousin, an ensign in a Highland regiment. On hearing the name of his host, he nudged Sir James and enquired in an audible whisper, “Is that the great Sir Sydney?” “Yes, yes,” said Sir James, and giving Sydney, the hint, he at once assumed the military character, performed the part of the hero of Acre to perfection, fought all the battles over again, and showed how he had charged the Turk, to the infinite delight of the young Scotsman, who was charmed with the kindness and condescension of the great Sir Sydney. Meanwhile, however, the other guests were suffering severe torture and nearly burst with suppressing laughter. In return for the kindness he had received, nothing would content the young Highlander but that he must set off about twelve o’clock at night to fetch the piper of the regiment to pipe to the “Great Sir Sydney,” who said he had never heard the bagpipes. Before he returned, the company had dispersed. Sir James declaring he would be decapitated if he remained. A few days after this occurrence Sir James and his cousin met Sydney Smith, with his wife leaning on his arm. He introduced her as his wife, upon which the young Highlander whispered to Sir James, and looking at the lady, “I did na ken the great Sir Sydney was married.” “Why, no,” said Sir James, winking at him, “not ex-act-ly married—only an Egyptian slave he brought over with him; Fatima, you know, you understand.”
SYDNEY SMITH’S COUNTRY COUSIN.