"--_Wotton._
* * * * *
One of the band of Covent-Garden, who played the French horn, was
telling some anecdote of Garrick's generosity. Macklin, who heard him at
the lower end of the table, and who always fired at the praises of
Garrick, called out, "Sir, I believe you are a _trumpeter._"--"Well,
sir," said the poor man, quite confounded, "and if I am, what
then?"--"Nothing more, sir, than being a trumpeter, you are a dealer in
_puffs_ by profession."
* * * * *
An Irish dignitary of the church (not remarkable for veracity)
complaining that a tradesman of his parish had called him a _liar_,
Macklin asked him what reply he made him. "I told him," says he, "that a
lie was amongst the things I _dared_ not commit."--"And why, doctor,"
replied Macklin, "did you give the rascal _so mean an opinion of your
courage?_"
* * * * *
In the neighbourhood of Yeovil are now living, in the same house, and at
the same board, a man and his wife, two sons, three daughters, two
grandsons, one grand-daughter, one grandfather, two fathers, two
mothers, one father-in-law, one son-in-law, three brothers, three
sisters, two brothers-in-law, two sisters-in-law, two uncles, two aunts,
two nephews, three nieces, three first cousins, one great uncle, two
great nephews, and one great niece; the whole consisting of seven
individuals only.
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