TO OXFORD. 187 



A well-known poet sacrificed too liberally to 

 Bacchus one evening at the Athenaeum, and was 

 led home by an acquaintance of his who was in a 

 more sober state. The day had been wet, and the 

 kennels were full of water. The poet fell into one 

 of them, and pulled his companion after him, who 

 exclaimed, in allusion to one of the poet's lines, 

 ' It is not 7-ser rolling rapidly, but we-sir.' 



An old gentleman while handing his snuff-box 

 round a table, boasted much of its antiquity, and 

 said that it had been a hundred years in his 

 family. Has it ? ' retorted a wit, * then it is only 

 ' a sentry (century) box after all.' 



Coleman being asked what he thought of John 

 Kemble in Don Felix, answered, that ' there was 



* too much of the Don, and too little of the Felix.' 



A race-horse, named Dawn-of-Day, won several 

 stakes, and his owner, thinking he should get a 

 large sum for him, determined to sell him, and told 

 a friend of his intention. ' You will never get 



* any thing for him,' replied he, ' his name will 

 ' damn him.' How so ?' said the other, * he has 

 ' always won in the name he now has.' ' No such 

 ' thing,' replied the other ; ' I again say his name 

 ' will damn him, for every one will take him for a 

 ' roarer (aurora).' 



A celebrated architect was speaking of the dif- 

 ficulty there would be in destroying the old London 

 bridge. None at all,' said his friend, ' shoot it.' 



