tory is that which concerns a Scotch laird who had
fallen very sick, so a specialist came from Edinburgh to assist the
local murderer in diagnosing the symptoms.

The canny patient felt sure he would not be told what was the matter, so
he bade his servant conceal himself behind the curtains in the room
where the doctors talked it over, and to repeat to him what they said.

This is what the faithful retainer brought as tidings of comfort to the
alarmed invalid:--

'Weel, sir, the two were very gloomy, one saying one thing and the other
another; but after a while they cheered up and grew quite pleasant when
they had decided that they would know all about it at the post-mortem.'

That recalls to my mind Sidney Smith's definition of a doctor as an
individual who put drugs of which he knew very little into a body of
which he knew considerably less.

There is a rare lot of truth in some witticisms.

For some illogical reason only known to my own brain--perhaps with the
desire of keeping up the fashion for inconsecutive and rambling
observations common to all books of reminiscences--the foregoing stories
suggest to my mind the excuse made to me by a wary scoundrel for not
paying his rent.

'I had an illegant little heifer as ever your honour cast an eye over,
and who is a better judge than yourself, God bless you? But the Lord was
pleased to take her to Himself, and it would be flat heresy for me not
to say He is not as good a judge as your honour's self.'

There was an action brought against a veterinary surgeon for killing a
man's horse.

Lord Morris knew something of medicine, as he did of most things, and
asked if the dose given would not have killed the devil himself.

The vet. drew himself up pompously, and said:--

'I never had the honour of attending that gentleman.'

'That's a pity, doctor,' replied Morris, 'for he's alive still.'

The Government introduced into the House of Lords an additional bill for
the complication and confiscation of landed property in Ireland.

Lord Morris said it reminded him of the bill a veterinary surgeon sent
in to a friend of his, the last item of which ran:--

'To curing your grey mare till she died, 10s. 6d.'

Never was the Irish question more happily expressed than in his famous
reply to a lady who asked him if he could account for disaffection in
Ireland towards the English.

'What else can you expect, ma'am, when a quick-witted race is governed
by an intensely stu