In a case of assault, where a stone had been thrown by the defendant, the following evidence was drawn out of a Yorkshireman! “Did you see the defendant throw the stone?” “I saw a stone, and I’ze pretty sure the defendant throwed it.” “Was it a large stone?” “I should say it wur a largeish stone.” “What was its size?” “I should say a sizeable stone.” “Can’t you answer definitely how big it was?” “I should say it were a stone of some bigness.” “Can’t you compare it to some other object?” “Why, if I wur to compare it, so as to give some notion of the stone, I should say it wur as large as a lump of chalk.”
Mr. Pitt being in company with the late Duchess of Gordon, who spoke the Scotch dialect in the broadest manner, she told him that some of her family had gone to France, and was asked by him why she was not of the party. She said in answer, “That it was very awkward to be in a country and not know the language.” “Why,” said Mr. Pitt, “your grace has not found any such inconvenience in England.”
The old Duchess of Bedford, if born, as she herself once declared, before nerves came in fashion, had not at least been born before it was fashionable to paint. Her grace was, indeed, notoriously addicted to rouge, which she used in uncommon quantities. Lord North one day asked George III. when his majesty had seen the old lady? The king replied, “He had not seen her face, nor had any other person, he believed, for more than twenty years.”
When Dr. Johnson courted Mrs. Porter, he told her he was of mean extraction; had no money; and had an uncle hanged! The lady by way of reducing herself to an equality with him, replied that she had no more money than himself, and that, although she had not a relation hanged, she had fifty who _deserved hanging_. And thus was accomplished this singular amour.
A gentleman in company with Mr. C. Bannister boasted that he had destroyed five hundred men with his own hands. “Sir,” said Charles, “I have killed a few in my time also--let me see: five at Madrid, ten at Lisbon, twenty at Paris, thirty at Vienna, and double the number at the Hague. At length, coming over from Calais to Dover, I had scarce disembarked, when a desperate fellow of an Irishman killed me.” “Killed you!” said Munchausen; “what do you mean by that?” “Sir,” replied the wit, “I did not dispute your veracity, and why should you question mine?”