Wit.—Three gentlemen meeting to sup at a hotel, one of them wished for partridges. A brace was accordingly brought, and set upon the table, which he accordingly began to carve. He deliberately took one of them upon his own plate, leaving the other one for his two friends. “Hold!” cried one of them; “that is not fair!” “Perfectly fair, I think,” said the gentleman; “there is one for you two, and here is one for me too.”
To my Correspondents.
Almost every person has some trouble, real or imaginary. I have seen a story of a philosopher who travelled over the world in search of a person who was perfectly happy. He visited the halls of the rich and the hovels of the poor, and everywhere found each individual afflicted with some rooted sorrow, care, or vexation. At last, as he was about giving up the search in despair, he fell in with a shepherd who seemed perfectly free from every evil. He had a pleasing wife, lovely children, a competent support, and good health. What could he desire beside?
“Nothing—nothing,” said the philosopher; but when he asked the shepherd if he was happy—“Alas! alas!” said the man; “I am far from it. There is a black sheep in my flock that is forever running off and leading the rest astray. While I am awake, that black sheep is the torment of my life; and when asleep, it disturbs my dreams!”
It is said that Sir Walter Scott was talking on this subject, one day, with some gentlemen—he contending that no one was perfectly happy, and they maintaining the reverse—when a half-witted fellow, whom they knew, came up. It was agreed to settle the question by appealing to him.
“Good day to ye, Sawney!” said Sir Walter. “Good day,” said Sawney, in reply. “Well now, Sawney,” said Sir Walter, “how does the world use you?”
“Well—well, your honor.”
“Have ye plenty to eat?”
“Yes.”