The Jest Book Part 29

(On Mr. Croker's reputation for being a wag.)

THEY say his _wit's refined_! Thus is explained The seeming mystery--_his wit is strained_.

DXVIII.--A NICE DISTINCTION.

"WHAT is the difference," asked Archbishop Whately of a young clergyman he was examining, "between a form and a ceremony? The meaning seems nearly the same; yet there is a very nice distinction." Various answers were given. "Well," he said, "it lies in this: you sit upon a _form_, but you stand upon _ceremony_."

DXIX.--LATE DINNER.

SOME one remarking that the dinner hour was always getting later and later, "Ay," quoth Rogers, "it will soon end in our not dining till _to-morrow_."

DXX.--AN OLD JOKE.

AS a wag at a ball, to a nymph on each arm Alternately turning, and thinking to charm, Exclaimed in these words, of which Quin was the giver-- "You're my Gizzard, my dear; and, my love, you're my Liver."

"Alas!" cried the Fair on his left--"to what use?

For you never saw _either served up_ with a goose!"

DXXI.--TIME WORKS WONDERS.

A GENTLEMAN dining at a hotel, whose servants were "few and far between," despatched a lad among them for a cut of beef. After a long time the lad returned, and was asked by the faint and hungry gentleman, "Are you the lad who took away my plate for this beef?"--"Yes, sir."--"Bless me," resumed the hungry wit, "how _you have grown_!"

DXXII.--A NOVEL IDEA.

"MORROW'S Library" is the Mudie of Dublin; and the Rev. Mr. Day, a popular preacher. "How inconsistent," said Archbishop Whately, "is the piety of certain ladies here. They go to _Day_ for a sermon and to _Morrow_ for a novel!"

DXXIII.--THE SPIRIT AND THE LETTER.

A MAN was described in a plea as "I. Jones," and the pleader referred in another part of the plea to "I" as an "initial." The plaintiff said that the plea was bad, because "I" was not a name. Sir W. Maule said that there was no reason why a man might not be christened "I" as well as Isaac, inasmuch as either could be p.r.o.nounced alone. The counsel for the plaintiff then objected that the plea admitted that "I" was not a name by describing it as "an initial."--"Yes," retorted the judge, "but it does not aver that it is not a _final_ as well as an _initial_ letter."

DXXIV.--LOSING AN I.

A MAN being interrogated on a trial, spoke several words with much impropriety; and at last saying the word _curosity_, a counsellor exclaimed, "How that fellow murders the English language!"--"Nay,"

returned another, "he has only knocked an _I_ out."

DXXV.--DRIVING IT HOME.

THE late James Fergusson, Clerk of Session, a most genial and amiable man, of whose periodical fits of absence most edifying stories are still repeated by his friends, was an excellent and eloquent speaker, but in truth, there was often more sound than matter in his orations. He had a habit of lending emphasis to his arguments by violently beating with his clenched hand the bar before which he pleaded. Once when stating a case to Lord Polkemmet, with great energy of action, his lordship interposed, and exclaimed, "Maister Jemmy, dinna dunt; ye think ye're duntin't _into_ me, and ye're just duntin't _out o' me_."

DXXVI.--THE EMPTY GUN.

AS d.i.c.k and Tom in fierce dispute engage, And, face to face, the noisy contest wage; "Don't _c.o.c.k_ your chin at me," d.i.c.k smartly cries.

"Fear not--his head's not _charged_," a friend replies.

DXXVII.--A PIECE OF PLATE.

A YOUNG actor having played a part tolerably well, Elliston one evening called him into the green-room, and addressed him to this effect: "Young man, you have not only pleased the public, but you have pleased me; and, as a slight token of my regard and good wishes, I beg your acceptance of a small _piece of plate_." It was, beyond all question, a _very_ small piece, for it was a silver toothpick!

DXXVIII.--EPISCOPAL SAUCE.

AT a dinner-party Archbishop Whately called out suddenly to the host, "Mr. ----!" There was silence. "Mr. ----, what is the proper female companion of this John Dory?" After the usual number of guesses an answer came, "_Anne Chovy_."

DXXIX.--A GOOD CRITIC.

A FRIEND of an artist was endeavoring to persuade him not to bestow so much time upon his works. "You do not know, then," said he, "that I have a master very difficult to please?"--"Who?"--"_Myself_."

Dx.x.x.--WILKES'S TERGIVERSATION.

WILKES, one day in his later life, went to Court, when George III. asked him, in a good-natured tone of banter, how his friend Serjeant Glynn was. Glynn had been one of his most furious partisans. Wilkes replied, with affected gravity, "Nay, sire, don't call Serjeant Glynn a friend of mine; the fellow was a _Wilkite_, which your Majesty knows _I never was_."

Dx.x.xI.--A SLIGHT ERUPTION.

A PERSON came almost breathless to Lord Thurlow, and exclaimed, "My lord, I bring tidings of calamity to the nation!"--"What has happened, man?" said the astonished Chancellor. "My lord, a rebellion has broken out."--"Where? where?"--"In the _Isle of Man_."--"In the Isle of Man,"

repeated the enraged Chancellor. "A tempest in a teapot!"

Dx.x.xII.--SMOKING AN M.P.

AN honorable member, speaking about the tax on _tobacco_, somewhat ludicrously called for certain _returns_.

Dx.x.xIII.--A TIMELY REPROOF.

A YOUNG chaplain had preached a sermon of great length. "Sir," said Lord Mulgrave, bowing to him, "there were some things in your sermon of to-day I never heard before."--"O, my lord!" said the flattered chaplain, "it is a common text, and I could not have hoped to have said anything new on the subject."--"I heard the clock _strike twice_," said Lord Mulgrave.

Dx.x.xIV.--REPROOF.

"I CAN'T find bread for my family," said a lazy fellow in company. "Nor I," replied an industrious miller; "I am obliged to _work_ for it."

Dx.x.xV.--A SATISFACTORY REASON.

MR. ALEXANDER, the architect of several fine buildings in the county of Kent, was under cross-examination at Maidstone, by Serjeant (afterwards Baron) Garrow, who wished to detract from the weight of his testimony.

"You are a builder, I believe?"--"No, sir: I am not a builder; I am an architect!"--"Ah, well! architect or builder, builder or architect, they are much the same, I suppose?"--"I beg your pardon, sir; I cannot admit that: I consider them to be totally different!"--"O, indeed! perhaps you will state wherein this great difference consists?"--"An architect, sir, prepares the plans, conceives the design, draws out the specifications,--in short, supplies the mind. The builder is merely the bricklayer or the carpenter: the builder, in fact, is the machine,--the architect the power that puts the machine together, and sets it going!"--"O, very well, Mr. Architect, that will do! And now, after your very ingenious distinction without a difference, perhaps you can inform the court who was the architect for the Tower of Babel!"--"There was _no_ architect, sir, and hence _the confusion_!"