Dining once with Earl Kelly at his house at North End in the early part of the spring, his lordship, who was a _bon vivant_ and had a very red face, apologized during dinner that he was unable to give the party cucumbers that day, as none were ripe. "Your own fault, my lord," said Foote. "Why didn't you thrust your nose into the hot-house?" On another occasion, Foote calling on the elder Colman, the dramatist, heard him complain of want of sleep. "Read one of your own plays," said Foote. Dining one day with Lord Stormont, he noticed the diminutive size of the decanters and glasses. His lordship boasted of the age of his wine. "Dear me," said Foote. "It is very little, considering its age." A young parson was on his honeymoon. "I'll give you a text for your next sermon," said Foote: "Grant us thy peace so long as the moon endureth." Some one asked Dr. Johnson whether he did not think that Foote had a singular talent for exhibiting character. "No, sir," replied the doctor. "It is not a talent, it is a vice. It is what others abstain from. His imitations are not like. He gives you something different from himself, without going into other people. He is like a painter who can draw the portrait of a man who has a wen on his face. He can give you the wen, but not the man." In _The Mayor of Garratt_ Foote took off and held up to derision the old Duke of Newcastle, under the name of Matthew Mug. Of the Duke he was wont to say that he always appeared as if he had lost an hour in the morning and was looking for it all day. In _The Patron_ he satirized Lord Melcombe, but indeed there were few with any peculiarity of manner or taste or appearance, whom he was able to study, whom he did not hold up to public ridicule. The first time that George II attended the Haymarket _The Mayor of Garratt_ was on the stage. When His Majesty arrived at the theatre, Foote, as manager, hobbled to the stage door to receive him; but, as he played in the first piece, instead of wearing the court dress usual on these occasions, he was equipped in the immense cocked hat, cumbrous boots, and all the other military paraphernalia of Major Sturgeon. The moment the King cast his eyes on this extraordinary figure, as he stood bowing, stumping, and wriggling with his wooden leg, George II receded in astonishment, exclaiming to his attendants, "Look! Vat is dat man--and to vat regiment does he belong?" Even Samuel's not very bright brother came in for his sneers. Edward Foote was fond of hanging about the theatre, and frequented the green-room. Some one asked Samuel who that man was. "He?" replied Foote. "He's my barber." Somewhat later the relationship came out, and the same person remarked to him on his having spoken so contemptuously of Edward. "Why," said Samuel, "I could not in conscience say he was a brother-wit, so I set him down as a brother-shaver." Retribution came on him at last.