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Anecdotes Home

The father of the celebrated Sheridan was one day descanting on
the pedigree of his family, regretting that they were no longer styled
O'Sheridan, as they were formerly. "Indeed, father," replied Sheridan, then
a boy, "we have more right to the O than any one else; for we _owe_

Sheridan inquiring of his son what side of politics he should espouse on
his inauguration to St. Stephen's chapel; the son replied, that he intended
to vote for those who offered best, and that in consequence he should wear
on his forehead a label, "To let;" to which the facetious critic rejoined,
"I suppose, Tom, you mean to add, _unfurnished_."

Sheridan was once travelling to town in one of the public coaches, for the
purpose of canvassing Westminster, at the time that Mr. Paull was his
opponent, when he found himself in company with two Westminster electors.
In the course of conversation, one of them asked his friend to whom he
meant to give his vote? The other replied, "to Paull, certainly; for,
though I think him but a shabby sort of a fellow, I would vote for anyone
rather than that rascal Sheridan!" "Do you know Sheridan?" inquired the
stranger. "Not I, sir," was the answer, "nor should I wish to know him."
The conversation dropped here; but when the party alighted to breakfast,
Sheridan called aside the other gentleman and said, "Pray who is that very
agreeable friend of your's? He is one of the pleasantest fellows I ever met
with; I should be glad to know his name?" "His name is Mr. T.; he is an
eminent lawyer, and resides in Lincoln's Inn Fields." Breakfast being over,
the party resumed their seats in the coach; soon after which, Sheridan
turned the discourse to the law. "It is," said he, "a fine profession. Men
may rise from it to the highest eminence in the state, and it gives vast
scope to the display of talent; many of the most virtuous and noble
characters recorded in our history have been lawyers. I am sorry, however,
to add, that some of the greatest rascals have also been lawyers; but of
all the rascals of lawyers I ever heard of, the greatest is one T., who
lives in Lincoln's Inn Fields." The gentleman fired up at the charge, and
said very angrily, "I am Mr. T., sir." "And I am Mr. Sheridan," was the
reply. The jest was instantly seen; they shook hands, and instead of voting
against the facetious orator, the lawyer exerted himself warmly in
promoting his election.

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