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ence, amazed at the strangeness of this conduct, cast their eyes around every corner of the house, when they immediately discovered the cause of Garrick's merriment. A jolly round faced butcher was seated in front of one of the high boxes, wiping his bald pate, from which the sweat flowed in copious streams!—his sagacious mastiff, no doubt eager to enjoy as well as his master, the admirable Performance of the Prince of Tragedians, had placed his fore feet upon the front of the butcher's box, and was looking eagerly down upon the stage, with his grave phiz dignified by his master's full-bottom'd wig! The audience found it impossible to restrain their gravity at this ludicrous sight. The loudest peals of laughter burst from the pit, the boxes, and the galleries; and it was a great ere the performers could again resume the gravity necessary for performing a tragedy so deeply interesting.
Soon after Dr. Johnson's return from Scotland to London, a Scottish lady, at whose house be was, as a compliment, ordered some hotch-potch for his dinner. After the doctor had tasted it, she asked him if it was good?—To which he replied, very good for hogs?—Then, pray, said the lady, let me help you to a little more.
The clergyman of a village, a few miles south from Edinburgh, (which is almost entirely surrounded by colliers,) being one day engaged in examining his parishioners on the principles of the Christian religion, and finding them extremely deficient in their knowledge of these divine truths, felt it his duty to display, in pretty strong
