Wit and Cruelty as Allies.

The Temptation to be Clever at Another's Expense is so Irresistible That Whenever We Find a Modern Bon Mot We See a Victim Picking Up Pieces of His Shattered Egotism.

It is almost a proverb that a witty person is also a cruel one. True wit does not need to be caustic; but it is so much easier to be clever at some one's expense than in any other way, that the person with a reputation to sustain for saying witty things will fall into the habit of sarcasm very readily if his heart is not particularly kind.

The Parson's Suggestion.

It is related of a famous English clergyman that when presiding at a meeting where the necessity of wood-paving a street in his parish was under discussion he became greatly disgusted at the want of intelligence displayed by many of those present. Finally, unable to control the annoyance which a more than usually frivolous objection occasioned him, he said:

"Gentlemen, do not let us discuss the matter further. You have only to put your heads together and the thing is done at once."

Lamb's Unkind Thrust.

Charles Lamb, than whom no gentler or kinder-hearted wit ever breathed, at times found it impossible to restrain himself from the personal; as, for instance, when he covered a friend with shame at a whist-party by blurting out:

"Gad, James, if—if dirt were t-t-trumps, what a hand you would have!"

A Weighty Politician.

A personal bon mot, perpetrated at the expense of the late Sir William Harcourt, is harmless enough:

"You must admit that he is a most weighty politician," insisted one of his admirers.

"A weighty politician!" said an irreverent one. "I should think so! When he moves to the east the west tips up."

Religiously Personal.

"Sir," said a little blustering man to a religious opponent—"I say, sir, do you know to what sect I belong?"

"Well, I don't exactly know," was the answer, "but to judge from your make, shape, and size, I should say you belong to a class called the in-sect."

A Beggar's Benison.

An Irish beggarwoman, following a gentleman who had had the misfortune to lose his nose, kept exclaiming:

"Heaven preserve your honor's eyesight!"

The gentleman was at last annoyed at her importunity, and said:

"Why do you wish my eyesight to be preserved? Nothing ails my eyesight, nor is likely to."

"No, your honor," said the Irishwoman, "but it will be a sad thing if it does, for you will have nothing to rest your spectacles upon."

Hard Hit by Napoleon.

When Napoleon was only an officer of artillery a Prussian officer said in his presence, with much pride:

"My countrymen fight only for glory, but Frenchmen for money."

"You are right," replied Napoleon; "each of them fights for what he is most in want of."

A Triumph for Billingsgate.

The Rev. Matthew Wilkes, a celebrated London preacher, was caught in a shower in the famous Billingsgate Market, where the profanity of the women who sell fish there is proverbial. As he stopped under a shed among them, he felt called upon to at least give his testimony against their wickedness.

"Don't you think," said he, speaking with the greatest deliberation and solemnity, "I shall appear as a swift witness against you in the day of judgment?"

"I presume so," said one, "for the biggest rogue always turns state's evidence."

David vs. Goliath.

Lord Roberts once found himself among new friends in a London club. There was a very tall man present, who, evidently believing himself to shine as a wit, seized every opportunity of raising a laugh at other people's expense.

On being introduced to Lord Roberts, the wit bent down patronizingly to his lordship and remarked:

"I have often heard of you, but"—shading his eyes with one hand as though the famous general, being so small, could be seen only with difficulty—"I have never seen you."

To this Lord Roberts promptly replied:

"I have often seen you, sir, but I have never heard of you."

An American Woman's Retort.

Lord Sackville was never much of a lover of America, and what love he ever had was considerably affected by his dismissal in disgrace as British ambassador in President Cleveland's administration.

Some time after his return he was a guest of honor at a dinner which was also attended by Lady Randolph Churchill, now Mrs. Cornwallis West, who is an American. His lordship did not air his personal grievances, but he lost no opportunity of decrying everything American. He was especially severe upon American table manners.

"Do you know," he remarked, "that I have seen Americans eating with their knives and spilling their soup on the table-cloth?"

Lady Randolph's eyes had flashed several times during the dinner, but this was a little too much. She leaned quietly toward the distinguished diplomat and remarked, in her cool, sarcastic voice:

"What poor letters of recommendation you must have had, my lord!"

Silencing the Surgeon.

At a certain dinner-table with General Miles, one night, was a distinguished Washington surgeon, who listened with a certain air of superiority to some of the soldier's reminiscences of various experiences during the Civil War.

"And how do you feel, general," he finally asked, with just a touch of sarcasm, "after you've professionally killed a man?"

"Oh," replied General Miles, "I dare say I don't mind doing that any more than you do."

Thomas Lawson's Sharp Tongue.

A Marblehead fisherman reports hearing, while out one day in the bay, this bit of repartee between Thomas Lawson and a young woman, evidently no respecter of persons.

As Mr. Lawson, in a naphtha launch, passed the rowboat containing the girl, she called out:

"Hullo, Tom, how's copper?"

Instantly came the retort: "First-rate. How's brass?"

The Deacon Smelled Sulfur.

Old Deacon Morse was as good at repartee as any man living. One time he was taking a vessel down New York Harbor. Another vessel collided with his, and the two drifted on together.

"Cut loose! Cut loose!" called the other captain.

Morse couldn't, but demanded that the other do so. This the stranger wouldn't do, but he warned Morse that if he didn't they would soon reach Hell Gate.

"Well," replied Morse, "you won't stop at the gate if you don't cut loose from us in about two minutes!"

Laying Up Treasure for Heaven.

Francis Baylies, an historian of note, on returning from a church meeting one Thanksgiving Day, met Nicholas Tillinghast, one of the most humorous and also one of the most eloquent of the members of the Bristol County bar, in the sitting-room of an hotel.

In the course of the conversation which ensued Mr. Baylies said to Mr. Tillinghast:

"I have deposited a ten-cent piece in the contribution-box, to be placed on interest until I reach heaven."

Mr. Tillinghast replied:

"Ah, yes! That will amount to a very large sum before you will be admitted there."

Tact of Disraeli.

When it was more expedient to evade a question than to give a definite answer, Disraeli could do so with consummate tact. A story illustrative of this is told in the "Memoirs of Mary Duchess of Teck."

The great statesman was very fond of the princess, and admired her grasp of political problems; but he never allowed himself to be charmed into telling cabinet secrets.

One evening at dinner, during a crisis in foreign affairs, Princess Mary, who was puzzled at the inaction of the government, turned to him and said:

"What are we waiting for, Mr. Disraeli?"

The prime minister paused for a moment to take up the menu, and, looking at the princess, gravely replied:

"Mutton and potatoes, madam."