SEVENTH EMPTYING. 95 



A doctor (not the one you know) was going his rounds 

 in an Irish hospital, and, after feeling a patient's pulse, 

 remarked to the nurse at the bedside, " Ah ! he is much 

 better. I thought the new treatment would do him good." 

 " Yes," said the nurse, "he is better, doctor ; but it is not 

 the same man. Yesterday's man is dead, and this one has 

 been put in his place." " Ah ! " said the doctor, " different 

 patient, eh ? well, same treatment," and he walked on. 



A certain good old parson passing the night in an Irish 

 hotel was the occupant of one of the three single beds in the 

 same room, two of which were in possession of strangers 

 when he arrived. As soon as the light was out one of the 

 other two lifted up his nose and initiated a snoring perform- 

 ance, the like of which probably no one ever heard. The 

 tumult increased as the night wore on, while the other two 

 lay awake and listened in awe-stricken amazement and self 

 abasement. Soon after midnight when the audience were 

 silently ruminating on the advisability of climbing out of the 

 window and spending the rest of the night on the roof, the 

 snorer suddenly turned over in bed, gave a hideous groan and 

 became silent ; and then the parson heard the other man 

 exclaim with deep fervour, " He's dead, thank heaven, he's 

 dead ; " the conclusion being that you can now and then have 

 too much of anything. 



& & 



A trombone player who had been at a festive gathering, 

 still endeavouring to tootle as he wended his way home, had 

 occasion to cross a field in which, unknown to him, was a 

 ferocious bull. The animal roused to a proper spirit of 

 rivalry by the sound of the instrument sent forth a sonorous 

 bellow. The trombone player, in the dark and unable to 

 see whence the noise came, listened for a moment and then 

 said, " Who told ye that ye were a player ? aall blow ye low 



