NOT WITTY HIMSELF, BUT THE CAUSE OF WIT IN OTHERS.
Poor Brook Green was always too ready to display his ignorance. Nothing could restrain him, when he found a good opportunity A gentleman was showing the Elgin marbles to some ladies in the British Museum, when Green rushed up to him, and said in the most positive manner, "Excuse me, sir, but I think you called those stones marbles!" "I did, sir," replied the gentleman, rather surprised. "Well, but now look at them, really you cannot call them marbles." "But I do, sir, I maintain that they are," exclaimed the gentleman in a simmering passion; "do you pretend to tell me that they are not the Elgin marbles?" "Pooh, pooh," said Green, with a contemptuous smile, "it's ridiculous—you can't be serious." "Since they are not the Elgin marbles, then, sir, perhaps you can tell me what they are?" "Oh! that's not for me to say," answered Brook Green; "but I can only assure these ladies that they're a precious deal more skittles than marbles," and he walked away quite triumphantly.
Smith and Jones were looking over a new portrait of Buggins, painted by Muggins. "It's too dark, much too dark," said Jones, "you can hardly see a thing." "I tell you what it is," exclaimed Smith, "the lights want bringing up; what do you say, Green? Don't you think the portrait would look all the better if the lights were brought up?" "Certainly," he said, and he left the room. They were wondering what had become of him when he walked in five minutes afterwards with a pair of lighted candles. "My dear Green," said Smith, "what have you brought those candles for?" "Come, that's cool," answered poor Brook; "didn't you say the lights wanted bringing up?" Jones gave him one of his frowns which lasted five minutes.
He thought every one was imposing on him, and no wonder, for he was being hoaxed almost every minute of his life. "What's this!" he asked, whilst looking over some engravings. "That's Cleopatra's needle, sir." "Well, on my word it's very like a needle, and a stitch of it must have saved nine of any other needle;" and he laughed away as if he had made the very best joke in the world. "And what is this, pray?" he asked, taking up another engraving "Why, sir, that is the great Pyramid." "Nonsense, my dear fellow, you make a mistake; if the last was Cleopatra's needle, this one must be her thimble," and he gave the shopman such a dig in the ribs that he was kicked out of the shop.
"Look at that idiot!" he cried, pointing to a man who was leading a watering-cart; "will you believe it, I have told him no less than ten times that all the water is running out of his cart, and yet he takes no notice of what I say."
You could persuade Green to believe any absurdity. "I wish you would step over to the Bedford, Green," said young Thomson, "and order me a dozen of port?" "I haven't the time," answered our hero. "Well, then, will you get me half a dozen; the deuce is in it, my good fellow, if you haven't time enough for that!" Green actually went; and he would do the same thing for you to-morrow. He has been known to get half way over a river, and then swim back again for fear of not reaching the opposite side. On another occasion he ordered a pair of globes, but sent them back because they were not exactly alike. He also had a sun-dial fitted up in his bedroom, to enable him, as he said, to rise every morning with the sun.
Brook Green's knowledge of literature was very superficial. The editor of the Quarterly made a wager with him once that he would not mention a single thing correctly out of Shakspeare. "Can't I, indeed!" he exclaimed; "why I know his works all through from beginning to end: first of all, there is a set of chessmen, then there are two dice-boxes, after that six dices, and lastly, a game of draughts. I'll just trouble you for the money, if you please." The poor fellow had always looked upon a backgammon board, which folded up like a book, as a copy of Shakspeare's Works, for so it was labelled; and he was quite indignant because the editor of the Quarterly would not pay him the wager, which he considered he had fairly won.
Agricultural.—Turn down your flower-beds to see if they are damp, and give them a good shaking. If they want airing, let them have an extra sheet of snow, and pass the warming-pan once or twice over them. Rub up your "Sweet William" with tallow, and let your "Old Bachelor" have a warm bath the last thing at night, if you fancy he has caught cold.