A grotesque instance of the sudden power of gratitude is shewn in a modern Kentish anecdote perfectly well attested. A person of Whitestable, named Patten, was well known in his own neighbourhood as a man of great oddity, great humour, and equally great extravagance. Once standing in need of a new wig, his old one defying all farther assistance of art, he went over to Canterbury, and applied to a barber, young in the business, to make him one. The tradesman, who was just going to dinner, begged the honour of his new customer’s company at his meal, to which Patten most readily consented. After dinner, a large bowl of punch was produced, and the happy guest, with equal readiness, joined in its demolition. When it was out, the barber was proceeding to business, and began to handle his measure, when Mr. Patten desired him to desist, saying, he should not make his wig. “Why not!” exclaimed the honest host; “have I done any thing to offend you, sir?” “Not in the least,” replied the guest; “I find you are a very honest, good-natured fellow; so I will take somebody else in. Had you made it, you would never have been paid for it.” YORKSHIRE WIT. A Yorkshire boy went into a public-house, where a gentleman was eating eggs. The boy looked extremely hard at him for some time, and then said, “Will you be good enough to give me a little salt, sir?” “Ay, certainly boy; but why do you want salt?” “Perhaps, sir,” says he, “you’ll ask me to eat an egg presently, and I should like to be ready.” “What country are you from, my lad?” “Yorkshire, sir.” “I thought so--there, take an egg.” “I thank you, sir,” said the boy. “Well,” added the gentleman, “they are all great horse stealers in your country, are they not?” “Yes,” rejoins the boy, “my father (though an honest man) would mind no more stealing of a horse than I would drinking your glass of ale--Your health, sir,” added he, and drank it up. “That will do,” says the gentleman; “I see you’re Yorkshire.” TONSORIAL WIT. An eccentric barber opened a shop under the walls of the King’s Bench prison. The windows being broken when he entered it, he mended them with paper, on which appeared “Shave for a penny,” with the usual invitation to customers; and over the door was scrawled these lines: “Here lives Jemmy Wright, Shaves as well as any man in England--almost--not quite.” Foote (who loved any thing eccentric) saw these inscriptions, and hoping to extract some wit from the author, whom he justly concluded to be an odd character, he pulled off his hat, and thrusting his head through a paper pane into the shop, called out “Is Jemmy Wright at home?” The barber immediately forced his own head through another pane into the street, and replied, “No, sir, he has just popt out.” Foote laughed heartily, and gave the man a guinea. FORCE AND PLIABILITY OF CONSCIENCE.