"What a sinecure!" murmured his
opponent._
"_How do you like babies, Mr. Lamb?" cried the gushing mother._
"_Boi-boi-boiled," answered the stammering old bachelor._
* * * * *
_Foote used to say that the Irish take us in and the Scots turn us out._
* * * * *
_A stout duellist once said to his diminutive antagonist, "It is a
perfectly unequal contest. It is almost impossible to hit any one of
your size, or to miss any one of mine."_
"_I agree," said his opponent. "And I will chalk my size on your body.
We will not count the shots that go out of the ring_."
* * * * *
"_Ah," said Curran, noticing an Irish friend walking along
absent-mindedly with his tongue out, "he is evidently trying to catch
the English accent_."
* * * * *
_Sydney Smith was asked his opinion of Newton's portrait of Tom Moore.
"Couldn't you," he asked the painter, "put more hostility to the
Established Church into the face?_"
* * * * *
_An intemperate duke asked Foote how he should go to a masquerade. "Go
sober," said Foote._
* * * * *
"_I'm afraid the salad is gritty," apologised the host.
"Gritty!" mumbled the guest, "it's a gravel path with a few weeds in
it_.
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