Foote once went to spend his Christmas with C---- B----n, Esq., when, the weather being very cold, and there being but bad fires, occasioned by the scarcity of wood in the house, Foote was determined to make his visit as short as possible. Accordingly, on the third day after he went there, he ordered his chaise, and was preparing to set out for town. Mr. B----n, seeing him with his boots on in the morning, asked him what hurry he was in, and pressed him to stay. “No, no,” says Foote, “you would not let me have a leg to stand on.” “Why, sure,” says Mr. B----n, “we do not drink so much.” “No,” says the wit, “but there is so little wood in your house, that, by God, I am afraid one of your servants may light the fires some morning with my right leg.” QUIN. Quin one day complaining of his old age and infirmities, in the public rooms at Bath, a pert young coxcomb asked “What would he give to be as young as he was?” “I do not know,” says Quin, measuring him very contemptuously, “but I should be almost content to be as foolish.” COUNSELLOR C----. Counsellor C---- being chosen a friendly arbitrator between two near relations, one of whom had a very deservedly bad character, it happened, in the warmth of stating their grievances, the one gave the other the lie. “Lie, sir!” says the man with the bad character; “know that is amongst the actions of my life I _dare_ not do.” “My dear friend,” says the counsellor, “do not be in a passion: upon my soul, you have too mean an opinion of your own courage.” VERY LITTLE OF ITS AGE. Foote being at a nobleman’s house, his lordship, as soon as dinner was over, ordered a bottle of Cape to be set on the table, which, after magnifying its good qualities, and in particular, its _age_, he sent round the table in glasses that scarcely held a thimble-full. “Fine wine, upon my soul,” says the wit, tasting, and smacking his lips. “Is it not very curious?” says his lordship. “Perfectly so, indeed,” says the other; “I do not remember to have seen anything so little of its age in my life before.” AT WHAT GAME? Foote, meeting at Bath, his old acquaintance, Major B---- (a character well known in the annals of gaming), came up to him, and asked him, with great cordiality, how he was? “Ah, Foote,” says the other, “I have had a terrible accident since I saw you last; no less than the _loss_ of an eye.” “My dear fellow,” says the wit, “I am heartily sorry for it: pray, at what game?” DIRTY HANDS. A well beneficed old parson being at a public dinner, he entertained them with nothing else but the situation and profits of his parochial livings, which last, he said, he kept entirely to himself. The company in general despised him too much to make any remarks on his egotisms; but Quin being of the party, and observing the parson, as he stretched across the table, to shew a pair of very dirty yellow hands, he immediately called out,--“So, so, doctor, I think you do keep your glebe in your own hands.” MESS-ROOM GOSSIP.