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don't catch me crossing myself!"

      CCCXLIII.—WAY OF THE WORLD.

      Determined beforehand, we gravely pretend

       To ask the opinion and thoughts of a friend;

       Should his differ from ours on any pretence,

       We pity his want both of judgment and sense;

       But if he falls into and flatters our plan,

       Why, really we think him a sensible man.

      CCCXLIV.—A BROAD-SHEET HINT.

      In the parlor of a public-house in Fleet Street, there used to be written over the chimney-piece the following notice: "Gentlemen learning to spell are requested to use yesterday's paper."

      CCCXLV.—MODEST MERIT.

      A player applied to the manager of a respectable company for an engagement for himself and his wife, stating that his lady was capable of playing all the first line of business; but as for himself he was "the worst actor in the world." They were engaged, and the lady answered the character which he had given of her. The gentleman having the part of a mere walking gentleman sent him for his first appearance, he asked the manager, indignantly, how could he put him in such a paltry part. "Sir," answered the other, "here is your own letter, stating that you were the worst actor in the world."—"True," replied the other, "but then I had not seen you."

      CCCXLVI.—SOFT, VERY!

      Some one had written upon a pane in the window of an inn on the Chester road, "Lord M——ms has the softest lips in the universe.—Phillis." Mrs. Abingdon saw this inscription, and wrote under it—

      "Then as like as two chips

       Are his head and his lips.—Amarillis."

      CCCXLVII.—CAMBRIDGE ETIQUETTE.

      Cambridge etiquette has been very happily caricatured by the following anecdote. A gownsman, one day walking along the banks of the Cam, observing a luckless son of his Alma Mater in the agonies of drowning, "What a pity," he exclaimed, "that I have not had the honor of being introduced to the gentleman; I might have saved him;" and walked on, leaving the poor fellow to his fate.

      CCCXLVIII.—EPIGRAM.

      (On interminable harangues.)

      Ye fates that hold the vital shears,

       If ye be troubled with remorse,

       And will not cut——'s thread of life, Cut then the thread of his discourse.

      CCCXLIX.—HALF-WAY.

      A horseman crossing a moor, asked a countryman, if it was safe riding. "Ay," answered the countryman, "it is hard enough at the bottom, I'll warrant you;" but in half-a-dozen steps the horse sunk up to the girths. "You story-telling rascal, you said it was hard at the bottom!"—"Ay," replied the other, "but you are not half-way to the bottom yet."

      CCCL.—SELF-KNOWLEDGE.

      "——," said one of his eulogists, "always knows his own mind." We will cede the point, for it amounts to an admission that he knows nothing.

      CCCLI.—TWO OF A TRADE.

      When Bannister was asked his opinion of a new singer that had appeared at Covent Garden, "Why," said Charles, "he may be Robin Hood this season, but he will be robbing Harris (the manager) the next."

      CCCLII.—A STRAY SHOT.

      An officer, in battle, happening to bow, a cannon-ball passed over his head, and took off that of the soldier who stood behind him. "You see," said he, "that a man never loses by politeness."

      CCCLIII.—MILESIAN ADVICE.

      "Never be critical upon the ladies," was the maxim of an old Irish peer, remarkable for his homage to the sex; "the only way in the world that a true gentleman ever will attempt to look at the faults of a pretty woman, is to shut his eyes."

      CCCLIV.—MR. ABERNETHY.

      A lady who went to consult Mr. Abernethy, began describing her complaint, which is what he very much disliked. Among other things she said, "Whenever I lift my arm, it pains me exceedingly."—"Why then, ma'am," answered Mr. A., "you area great fool for doing so."

      CCCLV.—THE DEBT PAID.

      To John I owed great obligation,

       But John, unhappily, thought fit

       To publish it to all the nation;

       Sure John and I are more than quit.

      CCCLVI.—EXTREMES MEET.

      A clever literary friend of Jerrold, and one who could take a joke, told him he had just had "some calf's-tail soup."—"Extremes meet sometimes," said Jerrold.

      CCCLVII.—A COMPLIMENT ILL-RECEIVED.

      A person who dined in company with Dr. Johnson endeavored to make his court to him by laughing immoderately at everything he said. The doctor bore it for some time with philosophical indifference; but the impertinent ha, ha, ha! becoming intolerable, "Pray, sir," said the doctor, "what is the matter? I hope I have not said anything that you can comprehend."

      CCCLVIII.—TRUTH NOT TO BE SPOKEN AT ALL TIMES.

      Garrick was on a visit at Hagley, when news came that a company of players were going to perform at Birmingham. Lord Lyttelton said to Garrick, "They will hear you are in the neighborhood, and will ask you to write an address to the Birmingham audience."—"Suppose, then," said Garrick, without the least hesitation, "I begin thus:—

      Ye sons of iron, copper, brass, and steel,

       Who have not heads to think, nor hearts to feel—"

      "Oh!" cried his lordship, "if you begin thus, they will hiss the players off the stage and pull the house down."—"My lord," said Garrick, "what is the use of an address if it does not come home to the business and bosoms of the audience?"

      CCCLIX.—A GOOD REASON.

      A gentleman, talking with his gardener, expressed his admiration at the rapid growth of the trees. "Why, yes, sir," says the man; "please to consider that they have nothing else to do."

      CCCLX.—FOLLOWING A LEADER.

      Franklin, when ambassador to France, being at a meeting of a literary society, and not well understanding the French when declaimed, determined to applaud when he saw a lady of his acquaintance express satisfaction. When they had ceased, a little child, who understood the French, said to him, "But, grandpapa, you always applauded the loudest when they were praising you!" Franklin laughed heartily and explained the matter.

      CCCLXI.—IDOLATRY.

      The toilette of a woman is an altar erected by self-love to vanity.

      CCCLXII.—TWICE RUINED.

      "I never was ruined but twice," said a wit; "once when I lost a lawsuit, and once when I gained one."

      CCCLXIII.—Q.E.D.

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