Whitfield once preached at a chapel in New England, where a collection was to be made after the sermon. A British seaman, who had strolled into the meeting, observed some persons take plates, and place themselves at the door; upon which, he laid hold of one, and taking his station, received a considerable sum from the congregation as they departed, which he very deliberately put into the pocket of his tarry trousers. This being told to Whitfield, he applied to the sailor for the money, saying it was collected for charitable uses, and must be given to him. “Avast there,” said Jack, “it was given to me, and I shall keep it.” “You will be d--d,” said the parson, “if you don’t return it.” “I’ll be d--d if I do,” replied Jack, and sheered off with his prize.
A physician being sent for by a maker of universal specifics, grand salutariums, &c., expressed his surprise at being called in on an occasion apparently trifling. “Not so trifling neither,” replied the quack; “for, to tell you the truth, I have, by a mistake, taken some of my own pills.”
Some years ago a candidate for a Welsh burgh told his constituents, that if they would elect him he should take care they should have any kind of weather they liked best. This was a tempting offer, and they could not resist choosing a man, who, to use their own language, “was more of a Cot Almighty than Sir Watkin himself.” Soon after the election, one of his constituents waited upon him, and requested some rain. “Well, my good friend, and what do you want with rain? won’t it spoil your hay?” “Why, it will be very serviceable to the wheat, and as to my hay, I have just got it in.” “But has your neighbour got his in? I should suppose rain would do him some mischief.” “Why, ay,” replied the votary, “rain would do him harm indeed.” “Ay, now you see how it is, my dear friend! I have promised to get you any kind of weather you like; but if I give you rain, I must disoblige him: so your best way will be, I think, to meet together all of you, and agree on the weather that will be best for you all,--and you may depend upon having it.”
Sir Joshua Reynolds studied originally under Hudson, an English portrait painter, who bestowed very liberally on his customers fair tie wigs, blue velvet coats, and white satin waistcoats. He afterwards went to Italy, where he studied three years. On his return, he hired a large house in Newport Street, and the first specimen he gave of his abilities was a boy’s head in a turban, richly painted in the style of Rembrandt, which so attracted Hudson’s attention, that he called every day to see it in its progress, and perceiving, at last, no trace of his own manner left, he exclaimed, “Really, Reynolds, you don’t paint so well as when you left England.”
