794. In a company, consisting of naval officers, the discourse happened to turn on the ferocity of small animals; when an Irish gentleman present stated his opinion to be, that a Kilkenny cat, of all animals, was the most ferocious; and added, I can prove my assertion by a fact within my own knowledge: I once, said he, saw two of these animals fighting in a timber yard, and willing to see the result of a long battle, I drove them into a deep saw-pit, and placing some boards over the mouth, left them to their amusement. Next morning I went to see the conclusion of the fight, and what d’ye think I saw? One of the cats dead probably, replied one of the company. No, by St. Patrick, there was nothing left in the pit but the two tails, and a bit of flue. 795. Dr. Wall, at a public dinner, was playing with a cork upon the table. What a dirty hand Dr. W. has, said Mr. E. I will bet you a bottle there is a dirtier in company, said the doctor, who had overheard. Done. Upon which he produced his other hand, and won the wager. 796. Dr. Ratcliffe being in a tavern one evening, a gentleman entered in great haste, almost speechless: Doctor, my wife is at the point of death, make haste, come with me. Not till I have finished my bottle, however, replied the doctor. The man, who happened to be a fine athletic fellow, finding entreaty useless, snatched up the doctor, hoisted him on his back, and carried him out of the tavern; the moment he set the doctor upon his legs, he received from him, in a very emphatic manner, the following threat: Now, you rascal, I’ll cure your wife in spite of you. 797. A little girl, who knew very well the painful anxiety which her mother had long suffered, during a tedious course of litigation, hearing that she had at last lost her law-suit, innocently cried out, O, my dear mama! how glad I am that you have lost that nasty law-suit, which used to give you so much trouble and uneasiness. 798. A gentleman, who possessed a small estate in Gloucestershire, was allured to town by the promises of a courtier, who kept him in constant attendance for a long while to no purpose; at last the gentleman, quite tired out, called upon his pretended friend, and told him that he had at last got a place. The courtier shook him very heartily by the hand, and said he was very much rejoiced at the event: But pray, sir, said he, where is your place? In the Gloucester coach, replied the other; I secured it last night; and so good-bye to you. 799. Mr. Rogers was requested by Lady Holland to ask Sir Philip Francis, whether he was the author of Junius. The poet approached the knight, Will your kindness, Sir Philip, excuse my addressing to you a single question? At your peril, sir! was the harsh and the laconic answer. The bard returned to his friends, who eagerly asked him the result of his application. I don’t know, he answered, whether he is Junius: but, if he be, he is certainly Junius Brutus.