after an absence of a week, he returned in the middle of the
performances for the evening. A piece was being acted called the
"Intriguing Chambermaid," in which there is a character of an old
gentleman called _Mr. Goodall_, who comes on as from a journey,
followed by a servant carrying his portmanteau. To him there enters a
lady, _Mrs. Highman_, whose first exclamation is, "Bless my eyes,
what do I see? _Mr. Goodall_ returned?" At that precise moment Old
Goodall happened to put his head into the orchestra, and fancying
himself addressed, called out, "Lord bless you, ma'am, I've been here
this half hour."

Old Storace (the father of the celebrated composer) had lost nearly all
his teeth at rather an early period of his life. This, to one who was
decidedly a _bon vivant_, was a great annoyance. A dentist of
eminence undertook to supply the defect: he drew the few teeth which,
remained, and fitted the patient with an entire new set, which acted by
means of springs, and were removable at pleasure. The operation was so
skilfully performed, and the resemblance so good, that Storace flattered
himself that no one could discover the deception. Being one day in
company with Foster (a performer in the Drury Lane orchestra, and one
celebrated among his companions for quaintness and humour), he said,
"Now, Foster, I'll surprise you--I'll show you something you never
could have guessed." So saying, he took out the ivory teeth, and
exclaimed with an air of triumph, "There, what do you think of that?"
"Poh! nonsense! surprise me," replied Foster, "I knew perfectly well
they were false." "How the devil could you know that?" said Storace.
"Why," rejoined Foster, "_I never knew anything true come out of your
mouth!_"--_Athenæum_.

* * * * *