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A LETTER GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF A PESTILENT NEIGHBOUR

Sir,

You must give me leave to complain of a pestilent fellow in my neighbourhood, who is always beating mortar; yet I cannot find he ever builds. In talking, he useth such hard words, that I want a Drugger-man to interpret them. But all is not gold that glisters. A pot he carries to most houses where he visits. He makes his prentice his gally slave. I wish our lane were purged of him. Yet he pretends to be a cordial man. Every spring his shop is crowded with country-folks, who, by their leaves, in my opinion, help him to do a great deal of mischief. He is full of scruples; and so very litigious, that he files bills against all his acquaintance: and, though he be much troubled with the simples, yet I assure you he is a Jesuitical dog; as you may know by his bark. Of all poetry he loves the dram-a-tick. I am, &c.

A PUNNING EPISTLE ON MONEY

Worthy Mr. Pennyfeather,

Madam Johnson has been very ill-used by her servants; they put shillings into her broth instead of groats, which made her stamp. I hear they had them from one Tom Ducket, a tenant to Major Noble, who I am told is reduced to nine-pence. We are doubting whether we shall dine at the Crown or the Angel. Honest Mark Cob, who has been much moydored of late, will dine with us, but 'Squire Manypenny and Captain Sterling desire to be excused, for they are engaged with Ned Silver to dine in Change-alley. They live in great har-mony; they met altogether last week, and sate as loving as horses in a pound. I suppose you have heard of the rhino-ceros lately arrived here. A captain was cash-iered on Wednesday. A scavenger abused me this morning, but I made him down with his dust, which indeed was a far-thing from my intentions. Mrs. Brent had a pi-stole from her; I would a' ginny'e a good deal for such another. Mrs. Dingley has made a souse for your collard-eel. Alderman Coyn presents his service to you. I have nothing but half-pens to write with, so that you must excuse this scrawl. One of my seals fell into a chink. I am, without alloy,

Your most obedient,

TOM MITE.

P.S. Mr. Cole presents his service to you, of which I am a-tester.

GOD'S REVENGE AGAINST PUNNING,

BY DR. ARBUTHNOT;

SHOWING THE MISERABLE FATES OF PERSONS ADDICTED TO THIS CRYING SIN IN COURT AND TOWN

Manifold have been the judgments which Heaven, from time to time, for the chastisement of a sinful people, has inflicted on whole nations. For when the degeneracy becomes common, 'tis but just the punishment should be general: Of this kind, in our own unfortunate country, was that destructive pestilence, whose mortality was so fatal, as to sweep away, if Sir William Petty may be believed, five millions of Christian souls, besides women and Jews.

Such also was that dreadful conflagration ensuing, in this famous metropolis of London, which consumed, according to the computation of Sir Samuel Morland, 100,000 houses, not to mention churches and stables.

Scarce had this unhappy nation recovered these funest disasters, when the abomination of playhouses rose up in this land: from hence hath an inundation of obscenity flowed from the court and overspread the kingdom. Even infants disfigured the walls of holy temples with exorbitant representations of the members of generation: nay, no sooner had they learnt to spell, but they had wickedness enough to write the names thereof in large capitals: an enormity observed by travellers to be found in no country but England.

But when whoring and popery were driven hence by the happy Revolution, still the nation so greatly offended, that Socinianism, Arianism, and Whistonism triumphed in our streets, and were in a manner become universal.

And yet still, after all these visitations, it has pleased Heaven to visit us with a contagion more epidemical, and of consequence more fatal: this was foretold to us, first, by that unparalleled eclipse in 1714; secondly, by the dreadful coruscation in the air this present year; and, thirdly, by the nine comets seen at once over Soho-square, by Mrs. Katherine Wadlington, and others: a contagion that first crept in among the first quality, descended to their footmen, and infused itself into their ladies – I mean the woeful practice of PUNNING. This does occasion the corruption of our language, and therein of the word of God translated into our language, which certainly every sober Christian must tremble at.

Now such is the enormity of this abomination, that our very nobles not only commit punning over tea, and in taverns, but even on the Lord's day, and in the king's chapel: therefore, to deter men from this evil practice, I shall give some true and dreadful examples of God's revenge against punsters.

The Right Honourable – (but it is not safe to insert the name of an eminent nobleman in this paper, yet I will venture to say that such a one has been seen; which is all we can say, considering the largeness of his sleeves) – This young nobleman was not only a flagitious punster himself, but was accessary to the punning of others, by consent, by provocation, by connivance, and by defence of the evil committed; for which the Lord mercifully spared his neck, but as a mark of reprobation wryed his nose.

Another nobleman of great hopes, no less guilty of the same crime, was made the punisher of himself with his own hand, in the loss of 500 pounds at box and dice; whereby this unfortunate young gentleman incurred the heavy displeasure of his aged grandmother.

A third of no less illustrious extraction, for the same vice, was permitted to fall into the arms of a Dalilah, who may one day cut off his curious hair, and deliver him up to the Philistines.

Colonel F – , an ancient gentleman of grave deportment, gave into this sin so early in his youth, that whenever his tongue endeavours to speak common sense, he hesitates so as not to be understood.

Thomas Pickle, gentleman, for the same crime, banished to Minorca.

Muley Hamet, from a wealthy and hopeful officer in the army, turned a miserable invalid at Tilbury-Fort.

– Eustace, Esq. for the murder of much of the King's English in Ireland, is quite deprived of his reason, and now remains a lively instance of emptiness and vivacity.

Poor Daniel Button, for the same offence, deprived of his wits.

One Samuel, an Irishman, for his forward attempt to pun, was stunted in his stature, and hath been visited all his life after with bulls and blunders.

George Simmons, shoemaker at Turnstile in Holborn, was so given to this custom, and did it with so much success, that his neighbours gave out he was a wit. Which report coming among his creditors, nobody would trust him; so that he is now a bankrupt, and his family in a miserable condition.

Divers eminent clergymen of the university of Cambridge, for having propagated this vice, became great drunkards and Tories.

From which calamities, the Lord in his mercy defend us all, &c. &c.

THE BIRTH OF A PUN¹⁸

 
When Adam and Eve, as the saints all believe,
From the garden of Eden were driven;
They put up a prayer to king Joe in his chair,
That a boon he would grant them from heaven.
'Twas in vain that old Jove 'gainst their petition strove,
Madame Juno determined to grapple
His arguments keen; said the thunderer's queen,
"Where's the sin, pray, of stealing an apple?
Send Momus, I beg, let him carry an egg,
To earth's now disconsolate son;
And bid Mistress Eve, that no longer she grieve,
For the gods have enclosed them a Pun."
Now downward the sprite on the earth did alight,
And cracking the shell on the floor,
Gave birth to a Pun, full of humour and fun,
And sadness they never knew more.
 

On the subject of puns the late learned author of Hermes and Philological Inquiries has the following remarks and extracts:

A Pun seldom regards MEANING, being chiefly confined to SOUND.

Horace gives a sad example of this spurious wit, where (as Dryden humorously translates it) he makes Persius the buffoon exhort the patriot Brutus to kill Mr. King, that is, Rupilius Rex, because Brutus, when he slew Cæsar, had been accustomed to KING-KILLING.

 
Hunc Regem occide; operum
Hoc mihi crede tuorum est.
 

We have a worse attempt in Homer, where Ulysses makes Polypheme believe his name was ΟΤΤΙΣ, and where the dull Cyclops, after he had lost his eye, upon being asked by his brethren who had done so much mischief, replies, 'twas done by ΟΤΤΙΣ, that is, by NOBODY.

Enigmas are of a more complicated nature, being involved either in pun or metaphor, or sometimes in both.

Ἁνδῥ ἑιδον ωυρἱ χαλκὁν ἑπ' ἱνἑρι κολλἡσαντα

 
I saw a man, who, unprovoked with ire,
Stuck brass upon another's back by fire.
 

This Enigma is ingenious, and means the operation of cupping, performed in ancient days by a machine of brass.

In such fancies, contrary to the principles of good metaphor and good writing, a perplexity is caused, not by accident, but by design, and the pleasure lies in the being able to resolve it.

THE ENGLISH CELEBRATED FOR PUNNING ON NAMES

The English are noted for punning on people's names, in allusion to their talent or profession. – Grimaldi was called, from his "grim faces," Grim-all-day; Macready, from his quick study, "Make ready;" Young, from his youthful appearance, "the young actor;" Kean, from his new readings, "the keen actor;" Sinclair, from his beautiful voice, "Mr. Sing clear;" Miss Tree, the lovely vocalist, "the Mystery," &c. &c. &c.: innumerable are the instances in the political world, but quant. suff. Perhaps one of the most laughable of the present day is the pun upon Mr. Thomas Bish, the stockbroker's name; he was then at the head of one of the most respectable tea-dealing establishments in London. His friends sunk his Christian name, excepting the first letter, and jocosely called him Mr. Tea Bish: perhaps the joke was borrowed from an epigram on Mr. Twining, the tea-dealer, viz.

 
"How curiously names with professions agree,
For Twining would be wining, dispossess'd of his T.
 

But we shall favour the reader with a few of the best modern examples.

OF PUNNING ON SURNAMES

 
Men once were surnamed from their shape or estate,
(You all may from history worm it:)
There was Lewis the Bulky, and Henry the Great,
John Lackland, and Peter the Hermit.
But now, when the door-plates of misters and dames
Are read, each so constantly varies
From the owner's trade, figure, and calling, surnames
Seem given by the rule of contraries.
 
 
Mr. Fox, though provoked, never doubles his fist,
Mr. Burns in his grate has no fuel,
Mr. Playfair won't catch me at hazard or whist,
Mr. Coward was wing'd in a duel.
Mr. Wise is a dunce, Mr. King is a Whig,
Mr. Coffin's uncommonly sprightly,
And huge Mr. Little broke down in a gig
While driving fat Mrs. Golightly.
 
 
Mrs. Drinkwater's apt to indulge in a dram,
Mrs. Angel's an absolute fury,
And meek Mr. Lyon let fierce Mr. Lamb
Tweak his nose in the lobby of Drury.
At Bath, where the feeble go more than the stout,
(A conduct well worthy of Nero,)
Over poor Mr. Lightfoot, confined with the gout,
Mr. Heaviside danced a Bolero.
 
 
Miss Joy, wretched maid, when she chose Mr. Love,
Found nothing but sorrow await her:
She now holds in wedlock, as true as a dove,
That fondest of mates, Mr. Hayter.
Mr. Oldcastle dwells in a modern-built hut,
Miss Sage is of madcaps the archest;
Of all the queer bachelors Cupid e'er cut,
Old Mr. Younghusband's the starchest.
 
 
Mr. Child, in a passion, knock'd down Mr. Rock,
Mr. Stone like an aspen-leaf shivers,
Miss Poole used to dance, but she stands like a stock
Ever since she became Mrs. Rivers.
Mr. Swift hobbles onward, no mortal knows how,
He moves as though cords had entwined him;
Mr. Metcalfe ran off, upon meeting a cow,
With pale Mr. Turnbull behind him.
 
 
Mr. Barker's as mute as a fish in the sea,
Mr. Miles never moves on a journey,
Mr. Gotobed sits up till half-after-three,
Mr. Makepiece was bred an attorney.
Mr. Gardner can't tell a flower from a root,
Mr. Wilde with timidity draws back;
Mr. Ryder performs all his journeys on foot,
Mr. Foote all his journeys on horseback.
 
 
Mr. Penny, whose father was rolling in wealth,
Kick'd down all the fortune his dad won,
Large Mr. Le Fever's the picture of health,
Mr. Goodenough is but a bad one.
Mr. Cruickshank stept into three thousand a-year
By showing his leg to an heiress: —
Now I hope you'll acknowledge I've made it quite clear
Surnames ever go by contraries.
 

New Monthly Magazine.

AN EPITAPH, OR PUNNING RUN MAD

 
Here lies old John Magee, late the landlord at the Sun,
He never had an ail, unless when all his ale was done:
The Sun was on the sign, tho' what sign his sun was on,
No studier of the Zodiac could ever hit upon.
Some said it was Aquarius, so queerious he'd get;
But he declared no soda-hack should ever share his whet.
His burnish'd sun was sol-o, soul-heart'ning was his cheer,
And quaffing of good porter long kept him from his bier.
As draughtsman he'd no equal, his drawings were so good,
And many a noble draught has he taken from the wood, —
Rare spirited productions, with tasty views near Cork;
And then he had a score or two rum characters in chalk.
Above the mantel-taillee his tally it was nail'd,
And though he had lost one eyesight, his hop-ticks never fail'd.
Good ale and cider sold here, oft made the soldier halt,
And sailor Jack, his sail aback, would hoist aboard his malt;
Most cordially he'd pour out a cordial for the fair,
Whose peeper meant to ogle the peppermint so rare;
While buxom Jean would toss off the juniper so gay,
And swear it was both sweet and nice as any shrub in May.
At last John took to drinking, and drank till drunk with drink;
His stuffing he would stuff in till stuff began to shrink;
Tho' mistress shook her hand high, he suck'd the sugar-candy,
And often closed his brand eye by tippling of the brandy.
His servants always firking, his firkins ran so fast,
And staggering round his bar-rails, his barrels breathed their last;
And when he treated all hands his Hollands ran away,
Nor reap'd he fruit from any seed for aniseed to pay.
And though he drank the bitters, his bitters still increas'd,
He puff'd the more parfait au cœur till all his efforts ceas'd.
The storm, alas! was brewing, the brewer drew his till,
And Mrs. Figg, for 'bacca, to back her brought her bill.
Distillers still'd his spirits, but couldn't still his mind;
He told the bailiff he would try a bail if he could find;
But fumbling round the tap-room, Death tapp'd him on the head,
So here he lies quite flat and stale, because, d'ye see, he's dead.
 

Literary Gazette.

BENJAMIN BASHFUL ON THE VICE OF PUNNING

THE PUNSTER'S FOE

 
Who's he, that from our board is running?
He, Sir's an enemy to punning,
A bashful foe, who loves not wit —
Ergo, because he's none of it
Within his cranium; and at table
Sits like the fox in Æsop's fable,
Watching the grapes he'd fain devour,
And disappointed, calls them sour.
A laugh would decompose his metal,
And like a dog, with a tin kettle
Dangling at his tail, he runs
From witty wags who deal in puns.
 

TO BERNARD BLACKMANTLE, ESQ.

Sir,

It has just been communicated to me, that you are about to collect and publish a Punster's Pocket-Book, for the express purpose of promoting that pernicious vice, which is already much too prevalent. As an antidote to the evil, I hope you will not fail to insert this my special protest.

B. BASHFUL.

I am a bashful young man of good fortune, who, to use the phrase of the mode, have just come out, and made my entré into the world with the reputation of being a gentleman and a scholar. I could wish you to notice a minor evil in society which tends to poison the springs of taste and knowledge, by bringing forward the flippant, and throwing back the reflective, speaker. I allude to the vice of punning, which tends to destroy all the profit and pleasure of conversation, and embarrass, in the greatest degree, the young and inexperienced.

It is my fate to mix with a circle of fashionable dilettanti, each of them capable of sustaining a part in rational discourse, and of conducting the intellectual conflict with some share of vigour and learning; who, nevertheless, meet together to fritter away time, patience, and attention, with a series of unconnected quibbles and conundrums. Instead of the rich web of fancy, glowing with the vivid creations of lively, intelligent minds, the conversation presents a motley intermixture of shreds of wit and patches of conceit, a chequer-work of incongruities, the very orts and scraps of the "Feast of Reason," the dozings of science, and dregs of literature. If I relate to this group of punsters the most affecting circumstance, I am heard with impatience and inattention, till I chance unwittingly to utter a word susceptible of a double or triple interpretation. The mischievous spark of folly immediately ignites, the moral interest of my tale is undermined, and a loud report of laughter announces the explosion. The genius of orthography frowns in vain: puns are, by the law of custom, entitled to claim entrance into the sensorium either by the eye or the ear: but when a pseudo pun ("for indeed there are counterfeits abroad") is perceptible to neither sense – when read, its wit is not discoverable; and when heard, it cannot be understood: to avoid the horror of an explanation, I find myself obliged to perjure my senses by laughing in ignorance and very sadness, and thus contribute a sanction to the practice I would fain abolish. The evil is subversive of the first principle of society. Is it little to hunger for the bread of wisdom, and to be fed with the husks of folly? Is it little to thirst for the Castalian fount, and see its waters idly wasted in sport or malice? Is it little to seek for the interchange of souls, and find only the reciprocity of nonsense?

P.S. By BERNARD BLACKMANTLE.

 
To which complaint, I add this note
And sketch, by way of antidote,
The glorious art can life enhance,
A Pun will cause a Bear to dance,
And as we here have proof, – provoke
A bashful man to stand a joke.
 

EXAMPLES IN PUNNING,

BY

ROYAL, NOBLE, AND EMINENT PERSONS

THE PUNSTER'S BOWL

 
The sovereign medicine of life,
The antidote to care and strife —
Is friendship, and the cheerful bowl,
When humour meets a kindred soul:
Then flows the epigram, and pun,
From starry eve, to morning's sun;
And Laughter, "holding both his sides,"
The rubs and jeers of life derides.
Then honest hearts, elate with glee,
Forget the world, and black ennui;
For nought like punch, and puns, can drown,
The supercilious rich man's frown,
Or free the heart, a prey to care,
From fortune's ills and fell despair.
 

Bernard Blackmantle.

EXAMPLES IN PUNNING

The seeds of punning are in the minds of all men."

Addison, Spectator, No. 61.

ROYAL PUNS

RIGHT DIVINE

Among the few highly favoured individuals who were included in the select evening parties of his present Majesty, George the Fourth, while at the Pavilion, Brighton, was the facetious Reverend J. Wright. On one occasion the king suggested to his brother, the Duke of York, some intention he had of doing a particular act, to which the duke dissented, and his Majesty referred to the D.D. on which the reverend jocularly observed, "The king can do no wrong." Then, said his Majesty, "Fred. I shall pursue my object, for you hear I have 'Wright Divine' on my side."

COOKE AND KITCHEN

Sir George C., better known as Col. C., was said to have had an intrigue with a Mrs. Kitchen. When the king was told of it, he said, "It was very natural that a Cooke should be fond of Kitchen stuff, but if he meddles with the Coles he will get out of the frying-pan into the fire." The Coles were cousins to the lady.

A DOWN HILL PUN

Sir George Hill, the vice-treasurer of Ireland, and a near relative to the Londonderry family, was among the visitors at the Pavilion. Dr. Tierney remarked, that Sir George was getting old and feeble – "If I mistake not," replied the king, "he is going down hill very rapidly."

"Hume and Croker had a sharp contest last night," said the Earl of Liverpool to his Majesty, "but it ended in smoke." "I don't wonder at that," replied the monarch; "The Fire of Croker was sure to smoke like Irish turf beneath the weight of Scotch Hume-i-dity."

Sir Edmund Nagle said he wondered that the king of France did not feel offended at the squibs let off against him in the English newspapers. "Pshaw!" said the king, "he would be a fool indeed to be frightened at a squib in London, when at Paris he is sitting on a barrel of gunpowder."

LORD ELDON'S PUNNING JEU D'ESPRIT

In an application to his Lordship for an injunction to restrain the proprietors of the "Gazette of Fashion" from selling the song of "We're a' Noddin," the Chancellor perceiving the trifling nature of the cause, after hearing the defendant, observed, "I will dismiss both parties, by granting an injunction against Cease your Funning."

LORD STOWELL,

On a recent occasion, having taken his seat in the Admiralty Court, inquired separately of the advocates, if they had any motion to move; and being answered in the negative, the judge very good humouredly replied, "Then, gentlemen, the best thing we can do will be to move ourselves."

GEORGE CANNING AND EARL BATHURST

Kicking the Bucket

As the Earl Bathurst and George Canning were walking along Pall Mall, the Earl struck his foot, by accident, against a small pail, (which some careless servant had left at the door), and turned it over; "Why, your lordship has kicked the bucket," said the facetious orator; "No, not so bad as that, George," replied the witty earl, "I've only turned a little pale (i. e. pail)."

LORD ERSKINE

Few persons ever enjoyed a greater facility of punning upon the ancient languages than his lordship. For instance, on one of the articles of his breakfast apparatus, Lord E. had inscribed Tu doces, literally Thou – Tea – Chest.

THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON IN ACTION

"Your Grace speaks without reason, and too much in a passion," said a Spanish brunette to whom he had made a proposal, and was pressing it somewhat close. "Ah! my dear little angel," said the great captain, "reason has nothing to do with love; and passion is very desirable when we are on the point of entering into immediate action."

TURN IN AND TURN OUT

A noble lord who was aide-de-camp to the Duke of Wellington, visited the Duke early on the morning of the battle of Salamanca, and perceiving him lying on a very small camp bedstead, observed that his Grace "had not room to turn himself." The Duke immediately replied, "When you have lived as long as I have, you will know that when a man thinks of turning in his bed, it is time he should turn out of it."

THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE

Being told that a great public defaulter had married his kept-mistress, observed, "That fellow is always robbing the public."

ROGERS ON TASTE

When the Marquis of Hertford opened his splendid hotel in Piccadilly, Mrs. Coutts was one of the visitors present – much to the annoyance of certain of our fair nobility. In reply to an observation of hers, upon the splendour and magnificence of the furniture and decorations, Rogers archly remarked, that, "besides splendour, there was so much good taste in the ornaments and society– every thing in the rooms was so chaste and delicate."

LADY HAMILTON

The beautiful Lady Hamilton having at her table given "Mr. Abraham Goldsmidt" as a toast, and Lord Nelson only half filling his glass, she cried, "Come, come, my Lord, you must not sham Abraham."

JACK BANNISTER AND THE GOUT

A friend consoling with the comedian during a severe attack of the gout, observed, that the disease prolonged life, and added, "Any body might take a lease of yours." "Then it must be," quoth Jack writhing with pain, "at a rack rent."

HOSPITALITY

Jack Bannister, praising the hospitalities of the Irish, after his return from a trip to the sister kingdom, was asked if he had ever been at Cork? "No," replied the wit, "but I have seen a great many drawings of it."

LUTTRELL AND ROGERS

Luttrell and Sam Rogers met together at the Chinese Saloon the other day. "This must be a famous speculation," said Sam; "I think the proprietor of the Anatomie Vivante should take his motto from my favourite epistle in Horace —

 
'Annonæ prosit —
Vir BONUS.'"
 

"Why," said Luttrell, "I think the man a humbug; you'll find plenty of living skeletons in our hospitals – so I think a better motto may be found for him in the same epistle, which you have quoted so often —

 
'Vir BONUS est QUIZ.'"
 

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE CHARLES JAMES FOX

C.J. Fox, and Mr. Hare, his friend, both much incommoded by duns, were together in a house, when seeing some very shabby men about the door, they were afraid they were bailiffs in search of them. Not knowing which was in danger, and wishing to ascertain it, Fox opened the window, and calling to them, said, "Pray, gentlemen, are you Fox-hunting, or Hare-hunting?"

LORD ROSS

The witty Lord Ross having spent all his money in London, set out for Ireland in order to recruit his purse. On his way he happened to meet with Sir Murrough O'Brien, driving for the capital in a lofty phaeton, with six fine dun-coloured horses. "Sir Murrough," exclaimed his Lordship, "what a contrast between you and me! I have left my duns behind me; you are driving your duns before you.

DR. JOHNSON

Early one morning, the Doctor passing by the end of the Old Bailey, observed a great crowd collected, and upon inquiring of Boswell what it meant, was informed that one Vowel was going to be hanged for forgery. "Well," replied the Doctor, "it is very clear, Bozzy, that it is neither U nor I."

AN UNFORTUNATE CELEBRITY

Dr. Johnson

A pert young fellow who had made some abortive attempts as an author, and notwithstanding the shallowness of his pretensions, was on excellent terms with himself, had long been labouring for an opportunity of being introduced to the Doctor, and at length succeeded in obtaining an invitation to Mr. Thrale's. Having taken proper means to be frequently accosted by his name, which, in his own fond imagination, was "fama super æthera notum," he sat for some time in expectation of being accosted by the Lexicographer. Finding, however, that his hopes were vain, he at length ventured to break the ice. Approaching the Doctor with a smile of self-sufficiency, "My name, Doctor Johnson," said he, "is – ; you have probably heard of me as being of some celebrity in the literary world." "Yes, I have indeed," was the sarcastic reply he received, "of very unfortunate celebrity."

DR. PARR ON WANTS

The Doctor used to say, that a man's happiness was secure in proportion to the small number of his wants; and he added, that, all his life, he had endeavoured to prevent the multiplication of them in himself. A Mr. Ketch, on hearing this, said to him, "Then, Doctor, your secret of happiness is, to cut down your wants." "Suspend your puns, Mr. Ketch," said the Doctor, "and I will drop you the hint: My secret is, not to let them grow up."

GEORGE COLMAN

George Colman being once asked if he were acquainted with Theodore Hook, replied, "Oh yes; Hook and I (eye) are old associates."

JAMES SMITH, ESQ. ON SPRING AND SUMMER

"We shall jump into summer all at once," said a friend to James Smith, one very fine day in the early part of the year. "Stop," said the punster, "if it is leap year, you must take a good spring first."

SHIELD AND SIR GEORGE SMART – THE SCORE OF MERIT

Shield the composer, on the occasion of Sir George Smart being knighted, said, "It must have been on the merit of his score¹⁹, and not on the score of his merit."

MR. WILLIAM SPENCER. Classical Pun

As William Spencer was contemplating the caricatures at Fores's one day, somebody pointed out to him Cruickshanks's design of the "Ostend packet in a squall;" when the wit, without at all sympathizing with the nausea visible on some of the faces represented in the print, exclaimed,

"Quodcunque Ostendis mihi sic incredulus odi."

REYNOLDS THE DRAMATIST

The amiable Mrs. W. always insists that her friends who take grog, should mix equal quantities of spirits and water, though she never observes the rule for herself. Reynolds having once made a glass under her directions, was asked by the lady – "Pray, Sir, is it —As You Like It?" – "No, Madam," replied the dramatist, "it is —Measure for Measure."

HENDERSON AND THE TWO GARRICKS

The Tatler, Spectator, and Guardian

The first time that Henderson, the player, rehearsed a part at Drury Lane, George Garrick came into the boxes, saying as he entered, "I only come as a spectator." Soon after he made some objection to Henderson's playing, when the young actor retorted – "Sir, I thought you were only to be a Spectator; instead of that you are turning Tatler." "Never mind him, Sir," said David Garrick, "never mind him, let him be what he will, I'll be the Guardian."

ANDREW CHERRY THE COMEDIAN

The late Mr. A. Cherry, comedian, was written to some years since, with an offer for a good engagement from a manager, who, on a former occasion, had not behaved altogether well to him. Cherry sent him word, that he had been bit by him once, and he was resolved, that he should not make two bites of A. Cherry.

MR. JEKYLL'S PUN ON MR. RAINE

Mr. Jekyll being told the other day, that Mr. Raine, the barrister, was engaged as the opposing counsel for a Mr. Hay, inquired, "If Raine was ever known to do any good to Hay?"

RALPH WEWITZER THE PUNSTER

A Fault in Candles

Ralph Wewitzer, ordering a box of candles, said he hoped they would be better than the last. The chandler said he was very sorry to hear them complained of, as they were as good as he could make. "Why," says Ralph, "they were very well till about half burnt down, but after that they would not burn any longer."

C.J. FOX AND BURKE ON THE "SUBLIME AND BEAUTIFUL."

Mr. Fox supped one evening with Edmund Burke, at the Thatched House, where they were served with dishes more elegant than substantial. Charles's appetite being rather keen, he was far from relishing the kickshaws that were set before him, and addressing his companion – "These dishes, Burke," said he, "are admirably calculated for your palate – they are both sublime and beautiful."

HORNE TOOKE AND DR. PARR ON "TIT BITS."

Horne Tooke, author of the Epea Pteroenta, was remarkable for the readiness of his repartees in conversation. He once received an invitation to a dinner party to meet the celebrated Dr. Parr. "What!" said Horne Tooke, "go to meet a country schoolmaster, a mere man of Greek and Latin scraps! that will never do." Some time after this, he met Dr. Parr in the street, and addressed him with, "Ah! my dear Parr, is it you? how gratified I am to see you!" "What, me?" replied Parr, "a mere country schoolmaster, a man of Greek and Latin scraps?" "Oh my good friend," rejoined Horne Tooke immediately, "those who told you that never understood me; when I spoke of the scraps I meant the tit-bits."