A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.
SHAKSPEARE.
Of Hogarth's first attempt at satire, the following story is related by Nichols, who had it from one of Hogarth's fellow workmen. "One summer Sunday, during his apprenticeship, he went with three companions to Highgate, and the weather being warm and the way dusty, they went into a public house, and called for ale. There happened to be other customers in the house, who to free drinking added fierce talking, and a quarrel ensued. One of them on receiving a blow with the bottom of a quart pot, looked so ludicrously rueful, that Hogarth snatched out a pencil and sketched him as he stood. It was very like and very laughable, and contributed to the restoration of order and good humour."
THE "GOOD BOY" LOVER.
"When I was a lad," said a facetious gentleman to the recorder of the anecdote, "I was, or rather fancied myself to be, desperately in love with a very charming young lady. Dining at her parents' house one day, I was unfortunately helped to the gizzard of a chicken, attached to one of the wings. Aware, like most 'good boys' that it was extremely ungenteel to leave anything upon my plate, and being over anxious to act with etiquette and circumspection in this interesting circle, I, as a 'good boy' wished strictly to conform myself to the rules of good breeding. But the gizzard of a fowl! Alas! it was impossible! how unfortunate! I abhorred it! No, I could not either for love or money have swallowed such a thing! So, after blushing, playing with the annoyance, and casting many a side-long glance to see if I was observed, I contrived at length to roll it from my plate into my mouchoir, which I had placed on my knees purposely for its reception; the next minute all was safely lodged in my pocket. Conversing with the object of my affections, during the evening, in a state of nervous forgetfulness, I drew forth my handkerchief, and in a superb flourish, out flew the GIZZARD! Good heavens! my fair one stared, coloured, laughed; I was petrified; away flew my ecstatic dreams; and out of the house I flung myself without one 'au revoir,' but with a consciousness of the truth of that delectable ballad which proclaims, that 'Love has EYES!!' I thought no more of love in that quarter, believe me!" M.L.B.
ADMIRAL RODNEY.
During the heat of the memorable battles with Count de Grasse, of April 9th and 12th, 1782, the gallant Rodney desired his young aid-de-camp (Mr. Charles Dashwood[9]) to make him a glass of lemonade, the ingredients for which were at hand. Not having any thing to stir it with but a knife, already discoloured by the cutting of the lemon, Sir George coolly said, on Mr. Dashwood presenting it to him, "Child, that may do for a midshipman, but not for an admiral—take it yourself, and send my servant to me." C.C.