A person, going into a meeting-house, happened to stumble over one of the forms which were set near the entrance. “Who the devil,” he cried, as he rubbed his irritated shins, “would have expected to find set forms in a meeting-house?”
FAVOR AND SODORINI.
Soon after M. Favor was appointed first ballet-master of the Opera (towards the close of the last century), Signor Sodorini, another performer there, came one day upon the stage, after the rehearsal, and said to him: “Allow me, my dear sir, to introduce myself to you. You are the dearest friend I have on earth. Let me thank you a thousand times for the happiness you have conferred upon me by coming amongst us. Command me in any way; for, whatever I do for you, I can never sufficiently repay you.” The ballet-master, who had never seen or heard of Sodorini before, was astounded. At last, he said, “Pray, sir, to what particular piece of good fortune may I attribute the compliments and professions with which you favour me.” “To your unparalleled ugliness, my dear sir,” replied Sodorini; “for, before your arrival, I was considered the ugliest man in Great Britain.” The ballet-master (strange to say) took this joke in good part; and the two were ever after warm friends.
MUSICAL PRIDE.
Fischer, a first rate oboe player, at Dublin, was a man of great professional pride, and had also much of the ex-professional gentleman in his composition. A nobleman once asked him to sup after the conclusion of the opera; and, although very averse to going, he at last consented, on being assured by his patron that it was only for his society and conversation, and not for his musical proficiency, that he was invited. He had not, however, been many minutes in his host’s company, when the latter approached him, and said: “I hope, Mr. Fischer, you have brought your oboe in your pocket.” “No, my lord,” said Fischer, “my oboe never sups.” So saying, he turned on his heel, and instantly left the house; nor could any persuasion ever induce him to return to it.
NEGRO WIT.
A gentleman driving on the road between Little River and Brighton, was overtaken by a negro boy on a mule, who attempted for a long while, without success, to make the animal pass the carriage. At length the boy exclaimed to his beast, “I’ll bet you one fippeny I make you to pass this time;” and, after a short pause, again said, “you bet? very well.” The boy repeated the blows with renewed vigour, and at last succeeded in making him pass; when the gentleman, who overheard the conversation between Quashee and his steed, said to him, “Well, my boy, now you have won, how are you going to make the mule pay you?” “Oh, sir,” says the negro, “me make him pay me very well; massa give me one tenpenny for buy him grass, and me only buy him a fippeny worth!”
A TRUE KING.
When Dr. Franklin applied to the King of Prussia to lend his assistance to America, “Pray, doctor,” says the veteran, “what is the object you mean to attain?”—“Liberty, sire,” replied the philosopher of Philadelphia; “liberty! that freedom which is the birthright of man.” The king, after a short pause, made this memorable and kingly answer: “I was born a prince; I am become a king; and I will not use the power which I possess to the ruin of my own trade.”
SHERIDAN AND MONK LEWIS.