At the meeting on the Covent Garden stage, the other day, a gentleman inquired for Mr. Kemble: "He's just gone off," replied another, evidently connected with the theatre. Such is the force of habit.
The late Murgravine of Anspach wrote an impromptu charade, and presented it to her husband, Lord C., as the person most interested in the subject of it, and most capable of judging of its truth:—
"Mon premier est un tyran— mari-
Mon second est un monstre— age;
Et mon tout est—le diable— mariage."
A farmer applied to a county magistrate for a warrant:—"A warrant, for what?" says the magistrate, "To take up the weather, please your worship."
P.T.W.
N.B. Warrant refused.