‘And under that, Tom, “Unfurnished,"’ rejoined Sherry the elder.  The joke is now stale enough.

But Sheridan was more truly witty in putting down a young braggart whom he met at dinner at a country-house.  There are still to be found, like the bones of dead asses in a field newly ploughed, in some parts of the country, youths, who are so hopelessly behind their age, and indeed every age, as to look upon authorship as degrading, all knowledge, save Latin and Greek, as ‘a bore,’ and all entertainment but hunting, shooting, fishing, and badger-drawing, as unworthy of a man.  In the last century these young animals, who unite the modesty of the puppy with the clear-sightedness of the pig, not to mention the progressiveness of another quadruped, were more numerous than in the present day, and in consequence more forward in their remarks.  It was one of these charming youths, who was staying in the same house as Sheridan, and who, quite unprovoked, began at dinner to talk of ’actors and authors, and those low sort of people, you know.’  Sheridan said nought, but patiently bided his time.  The next day there was a large dinner-party, and Sheridan and the youth happened to sit opposite to one another in the most conspicuous part of the table.  Young Nimrod was kindly obliging his side of the table with extraordinary leaps of his hunter, the perfect working of his new double-barrelled Manton, &c., bringing of course number one in as the hero in each case.  In a moment of silence, Sheridan, with an air of great politeness, addressed his unhappy victim.  ‘He had not,’ he said, ’been able to catch the whole of the very interesting account he had heard Mr. ——­ relating.’  All eyes were turned upon the two.  ’Would Mr. ——­ permit him to ask who it was who made the extraordinary leap he had mentioned?—­’I, sir,’ replied the youth with some pride.  ’Then who was it killed the wild duck at that distance?’—­’I, sir.’  ’Was it your setter who behaved so well?’—­’Yes, mine, sir,’ replied the youth, getting rather red over this examination.  ’And who caught the huge salmon so neatly?’—­’I, sir.’  And so the questioning went on through a dozen more items, till the young man, weary of answering ‘I, sir,’ and growing redder and redder every moment, would gladly have hid his head under the table-cloth, in spite of his sporting prowess.  But Sheridan had to give him the coup de grace.

‘So, sir,’ said he, very politely, ’you were the chief actor in every anecdote, and the author of them all; surely it is impolitic to despise your own professions.’

Sheridan’s intemperance was as great and as incurable as his extravagance, and we think his mind, if not his body, lived only on stimulants.  He could neither write nor speak without them One day, before one of his finest speeches in the House, he was seen to enter a coffee-house, call for a pint of brandy, and swallow it ‘neat,’ and almost at one gulp.  His friends occasionally interfered.  This drinking, they told him, would destroy the coat of his stomach.  ’Then my stomach must digest in its waistcoat,’ laughed Sheridan.