786. Two dinner-hunters meeting at Pall Mall a short time back, one inquired of the other how he had been for some days? He replied, In a very poor way indeed. I have not been able to eat anything at all. God bless me! said his hungry friend, that is extremely strange, you generally have a very good appetite, you must have been seriously ill. Oh! not at all, believe me, you misconceive my meaning; I could have eaten, but the reason why I have not been able to do so is, that no one has invited me to dinner. 787. Mr. Curran was once asked, what an Irish gentleman, just arrived in England, could mean by perpetually putting out his tongue? I suppose, replied the wit, he’s trying to catch the English accent. 788. Have you anything else old? said an English lady at Rome, to a boy of whom she had bought some modern antiques; Yes, said the young urchin, thrusting forward his hat, which had seen some dozen summers, my hat is very old. The lady rewarded his wit. 789. The late celebrated penurious H. Jennings, esq., who was reputed to be the richest commoner in England, when at the age of 92, was applied to by one of his tenants, then in the 80th year of his age, to renew his lease for a further term of 14 years, when, after some general observations, Mr. Jennings coolly said, Take a lease for 21 years, or you will be troubling me again! 790. Sancho, said a dying planter to his slave, for your faithful services, I mean now to do you an honour; and leave it in my will, that you shall be buried in our family ground. Ah, massa! replied Sancho, Sancho no good to be buried; Sancho rather have de money or de freedom; besides, if de devil should come in de dark to look for massa, he might mistake, and take de poor negar man. 791. Two gentlemen, the other day, conversing together, one asked the other, if ever he had gone through Euclid. The reply was, I have never been farther from Liverpool than Runcon, and I don’t recollect any place of that name. 792. Lady Rachel is put to bed, said Sir Boyle to a friend. What has she got? Guess. A boy? No; guess again. A girl? Who told you? 793. The wife of a Scotch laird being suddenly taken very ill, the husband ordered the servant to get a horse ready to go to the next town to the doctor; by the time, however, the horse was ready, and his letter to the doctor written, the lady recovered, on which he added the following postcript, and sent off the messenger: My wife being recovered, you need not come.