492. A prisoner being brought up to Bow Street, the following dialogue passed between him and the sitting magistrate:―How do you live? Pretty well, sir, generally a joint and pudding at dinner. I mean, sir, how do you get your bread? I beg your worship’s pardon; sometimes at the baker’s, and sometimes at the chandler’s shop. You may be as witty as you please, sir; but I mean simply to ask you how do you do? Tolerably well, I thank your worship: I hope your worship is well. 493. When Citizen Thelwall was on his trial at the Old Bailey for high treason, during the evidence for the prosecution, he wrote the following note, and sent it to his counsel, Mr. Erskine: I am determined to plead my cause myself. Mr. Erskine wrote under it: If you do you’ll be hanged;―to which Thelwall immediately returned this reply: I’ll be hanged if I do. 494. Chateauneuf, keeper of the seals under Louis XIII. when a boy of only nine years old, was asked many questions by a bishop, and gave very prompt answers to them all. At length the prelate said, I will give you an orange if you will tell me where God is? My lord, replied the boy, I will give you two if you will tell me where He is not. 495. A Mr. Johnstone having been lost in the dreadful conflagration of the Theatre Royal Covent Garden, Mr. John Johnstone, of Drury Lane, received a letter from an Irish friend, requesting to know, by the return of post, if it was he that was really burned or not. 496. A gentleman who lived in Great Turnstile, Holborn, being the subject of conversation in a party, a person inquired where he lived, if he had a large house, kept a good table, &c. Oh! yes, answered another, he lives in the greatest stile in Holborn. 497. Gentleman and ladies,―said the facetious Beau Nash, the then master of the ceremonies for Bath, introducing a most lovely woman into the ball-room,―this is Mrs. Hobson. I have often heard of Hobson’s choice, but never had the pleasure to view it until now, and you must coincide with me that it reflects credit on his taste. 498. A gentleman on circuit narrating to Lord Norbury some extravagant feat in sporting, mentioned that he had lately shot thirty-three hares before breakfast. Thirty-three hairs! exclaimed his lordship; Zounds, sir! then you must have been firing at a wig. 499. During Lord Townshend’s residence in Dublin, as viceroy, he often went in disguise through the city. He had heard much of the wit of a shoeblack, known by the name of Blind Peter, whose stand was always at the Globe Coffee-house door; having found him out, he stopped to get his boots cleaned; which was no sooner done than his lordship asked Peter to give him change for a guinea. A guinea! your honour, said the ragged wit, change for a guinea from me! Sir, you may as well ask a Highlander for a knee-buckle. His lordship was so well pleased, that he left him the gold.