DIARY OF A JOKE-HUNTER. 307 



at the Coburg, from the wings to the centre of the stage, by a blood- 

 red leg, of which none of the audience saw or could guess at the pro- 

 prietor ? 



G. W. told me that some Staffordshire Mayor was thus elected : 

 On the goose-eating quarter-day, the qualified burgesses form a circle 

 in the market-place, each wearing a wisp of hay in his waistcoat after 

 the fashion of a nosegay. A hungry ass is brought blindfolded to 

 the centre of the area ; the charter is read by the town-clerk ; and 

 the ass, his bandage being removed, proceeds to his election. That 

 burgess whose wisp he first condescends to nibble becomes, ipso 

 facto, the mayor. Now, really, Cruikshanks should have known 

 this : only imagine how he would have treated the countenances of 

 the respective burgesses, each of them trying with all his might to 

 wheedle the ass to his wisp ! What a glorious constituency ! 



14th. Bundled out betimes this morning, to blow up my tailor. 

 Couldn't find a coat in my wardrobe that would fit me. Met a pro- 

 mising dramatist and actor asked if he knew any thing funny that 

 wasn't old: said he did, and gratuitously favoured me with the 

 following: 



A living Wycherley (the same who, on being asked why he had 

 not brought out any thing for six months or more, replied, " Oh ! 

 I'm very comfortable now my mother's dead!") having been sub- 

 jected to some professional raillery, for not attending the rehearsals of 

 one of his new pieces, thus gave vent to his feelings : " Why, to tell 

 you the truth a rehearsal at our theatre is far from being productive 

 of infinite delight : on the contrary, the manager d s one's eyes to 

 such a degree, that it makes one quite nervous. He went abroad 

 with an elephant which didn't do. He comes back, and has a good 

 opening month. When he returned, he carried his tail between his 

 legs ; now it slicks out; and, in another week, it will venture to curl 

 over his back curse him !" 



15th. Heard a joke as I was standing under a gateway. The 

 Hertfordshire peasants are notorious for their want of urbanity. In- 

 deed, as regards all that relates to the bienseances de societe, they are as 

 great brutes as any gentlemen alive. A lady, while on a visit to a 

 friend residing in the county, had, during her rides on horseback in 

 the neighbourhood, become perfectly aware of the boorishness of the 

 peasantry. One day, when riding unattended, she came to a bye 

 gate of her host's park, which had not a lodge. A chubby boy was 

 swinging to-and-fro upon it. She ventured to beg that he would 

 hold it open while she passed. To her utter amazement, he did'so ! 

 Delighted with his complacency, she gave him a shilling, observing, 

 " It is quite clear, my lad, from your civility, that you are not a native 

 of Hertfordshire." The reply was this " Thee'rt a liar I be!" 







