"
* * * * *
"_I never read a book before reviewing it" said Sydney Smith to a
friend. "It is so apt to prejudice one_."
* * * * *
_Bentley, the publisher, said to Jerrold, "I thought of calling my
magazine_ The Wits' Miscellany, _but I have decided on_ Bentley's
Miscellany."
"_My dear fellow," said Jerrold, "why go to the other extreme?_"
* * * * *
"_What a magnificent-looking man!" said Goldsmith of a stranger; "he
ought to be a Lord Chancellor."
He was, in fact, a rich baker.
"Not Chancellor," whispered a friend; "only Master of the Rolls_."
* * * * *
_Coleridge was dreaming of the time when he was a minister. "Ah,
Charles, you never heard me preach." "My dear fellow," cried Lamb, "I
never heard you do anything else_."
* * * * *
_Sydney Smith said that the whole of his life had been spent like a
razor--in hot water or a scrape._
* * * * *
_As a means of bragging of his acquaintance, a man was remarking to the
company that, although he had often dined at the Duke of Devonshire's,
there had never been any fish. "Is it not_ extraordinary?" _he asked.
Jerrold said, "Hardly.
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