("'j. 
 
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Pfjesident vvi-hte Library, 
 Cornell University. 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PN 6261. G64 
 
 Good things for railway readers 
 
 3 1924 027 239 858 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924027239858 
 
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 GOOD THINGS 
 
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 ®M f |0MWttlt linwJjofes 
 
 CONVIVIALISTS, WITS AND HUMOTJEISTS; ODDITIES AND ECCENTRICITIES 
 
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INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Anecdotes have been described by one of our brightest Humourists 
 as con-esponding in Literature with the sauces, the savoury dishes, 
 and the sweetmeats of a splendid banquet. Another writer, of the 
 same Augustan age, has described an Anecdote as bearing the same 
 relation to History and Biography that an epigram bears to an epic 
 poem, or a proverb to a moral discourse. 
 
 The French term Ana has been defined as "loose thoughts or 
 casual hints dropped by eminent men, and collected by their 
 friends ;" and, in this sense, the word Anecdote is strictly employed 
 — for a detached biographical incident — a minute passage of private 
 life — or the narration of a particular incident or event. 
 
 This has been observed as the rule in the selection and composition 
 of the present Anecdote Library, which, it may be as well here to 
 state, is not borrowed bodily from other Collections of Anecdotes ; 
 but the incidents or narratives are condensed and in part re-written, 
 mostly from biographical works and historic memoirs, special regard 
 being had to their personal interest. 
 
 Instead, however, of following the well-beaten track in which 
 Anecdotes have been sought time out of mind, the Compiler and 
 Author of the present Collection has betaken himself " to fresh fields 
 and pastures new ;" and has availed himself occasionally of the 
 current journals of the day, so as to give the work more of the 
 interest of the Present than anecdote-books ordinarily possess. 
 
 Original sources have been turned to account ; and many of these 
 
 Good Things have never be/ore appeared in print ; whilst original 
 
 comments are added to the narratives of others. 
 
 b 
 
vi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 To recapitulate — the Good Things consist of upwards of One 
 Thousand Anecdotes — i.e., personal incidents, witticisms, repartees, 
 and traits of humour ; oddities, eccentricities, and strange occur- 
 rences, in the Lives of Convivialists, Wits and Humourists ; Lawyers 
 and Doctors ; Politicians j Players and Painters ; Soldiers ; and Men 
 of Letters — well adapted for Railway Readers. 
 
 The Good Things will, however, be found alike attractive for the 
 leisure half-hour, at home or abroad ; in the parlour- window, or by 
 the fire-side ; in the shady green lane, or the reading-room ; in the 
 railway carriage or the steamer saloon, or during those intervals of 
 business when the mind seeks relaxation in recreative reading of the 
 varieties of life as pictured in unhackneyed books. 
 
 Some years since, tlie Author edited a large collection, entitled 
 The Railway Anecdote-booh, of which several editions, numbering 
 some score thousand copies, have been sold.* The Good Things here 
 submitted to the reader are, of course, not res repetitce from the Author's 
 former Work ; for no attempt has been spared to give the present 
 Collection as much freshness, novelty, and originality as literary 
 industry can impart, without being unnecessarily minute in his 
 endeavour to book something new. 
 
 The diffuseness of story-telling and the attempt to " chronicle 
 small beer" have been avoided : here are no long-winded or wire- 
 drawn " yarns," made up of 
 
 " The drowsy syrups of the world ;" 
 but it has been sought to give the narratives the worth of pemmican, 
 which contains "much nutriment in small compass;" while the 
 manner is trancliant and quick, and attempts to realize our great 
 Humourist's estimate of Anecdotes. 
 
 Hence, it is hoped the Good Things will be not only acceptable to 
 those who " live along the line,'' but to all who read for information 
 as well as entertainment. 
 
 * The Illustrated Sailway Anecdote-book. Published by Messrs. Smith & Son, Strand. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Anecdotes and Pictures op CoNViviAii Life* 1 — 25 
 
 Oddities and Eccentkicities 35 — 56 
 
 Strange Occurrences 57 — 77 
 
 Wits and Humourists 77 — 99 
 
 Lawyers, Doctors, Politicians, Players, Soldiers, and Men 
 
 OF Letters 100 — 1 41 
 
 Miscellanea 141—160 
 
 THE FRONTISPIECE. 
 
 WILL SOaiMERS, JESTEE TO KING HENEY VIII. 
 
 OxE of the beat stories of Will Sommerg, 
 the Court Jester, is narrated at page 39 ; 
 but it may be interesting to relate a fevv 
 more anecdotes of his eccentric career. 
 
 Will Sommers, the buffoon, or Jester, to 
 King Henry the Eighth, is one of the most 
 renowned of his class, although very little 
 is known of his actual biography. Though 
 a reputed fool, he was highly celebrated for 
 his sarcastic wit and sparkling talents at 
 repartee, and that unaccompanied by the 
 Bcurrility and grossness which profaned the 
 conversation of his fellow-jesters. 
 
 It appears from a scarce tract, entitled, 
 A Pleasant History of the Life and Death of 
 Will Somers, &c. (which was first published 
 in 1676, and great part of which is said to 
 have been taken from Andrew Borde's col- 
 lection of The merry Jests and witty Shifts 
 of Scoggin), that he was the eon of a poor 
 Shepherd and husbandman in the neigli- 
 bourhood of Eston Neston, in Northamp- 
 tonshire, and that for some time he lived 
 servant to Kichard Farmor, Esq., of that 
 place, ancestor to the Earl of Pomfret. He 
 
 wa<i afterwards constrained to proceed to 
 London in search of employment, his mas- 
 ter having been found guilty of a prcemu- 
 nire, and stript of all his property by Henry 
 the Eighth, for sending eightpence and two 
 shirts to a priest who had been convicted 
 of denying- the King's supremacy, and waa 
 then in the gaol at Buckingham. 
 
 Having, by his drollery and good temper, 
 obtained a place in the service of a gentle- 
 man about the court, '* the fame of his vast 
 abilities soon came to the ear of the King, 
 who sent to see and talk with him ; and so 
 well did he comply with that unruly 
 monarch's humour, that he presently enter- 
 tained him both into his grace and living, 
 in quality of his jester," 
 
 There cannot, perhaps, be a greater proof 
 of the estimation in which our Jester was 
 held by King Henry, than the circumstance 
 ofhis portrait having been twice introduced 
 into the same piece with that of the King; 
 once in the fine picture by Holbein of 
 Henry Till, and his family, now in the 
 meeting-room of the Society of Antiqua- 
 
 * For a fuller Account of M. Soyer and the Hundred Guinea Dish, noticed at pp. 4-5, 
 see the jjopular Hints for the Table; or, the JEconom^ of Good Living, published by 
 Messrs. Eoutledge, Warne, and Routledge, 
 
VIU 
 
 THE FRONTISPIECE. 
 
 Ties, and, again. In an Illuminated Psalter 
 which was written expressly for that 
 sovereign by John Mallard, his chaplain 
 and secretary {Regis Chritor et Calamo), and 
 is now preserved in the I^ritish Museum. 
 
 Besides the above, there are two other 
 portraits of tliis disting^uished buffoon, by 
 Holbein, which have much contributed to 
 his fame. In one, Sommers is dressed in a 
 long tunic, with H. R, on the breast, and 
 he has on a flat hat, with a feather: he 
 wears a chain ; and in his rig-ht hand is a 
 horn : a sash or shawl, crossed behind, is 
 pendent from his shoulders. In the back- 
 ground, various sports and pastimes are re- 
 presented. In the other picture, which is 
 preserved at Hampton Court Palace, and 
 has been engraved for Caulfield's Remark- 
 able Portraits, he is represented in a com- 
 mon dress, and wearing a round flat cap. 
 He is shown, in a short half-length, as 
 looking' through a leaded casement, as here 
 engraved. 
 
 The licence in which, emboldened by the 
 King's favour, he indulged at court, and the 
 keenness of his remarks, is reputed to have 
 given umbrage to Cardinal Wolsey, who, on 
 one occasion (after Sommers had given a 
 tart answer to a rhyme propounded by hia 
 royal master), thinking to quail his assur- 
 ance, thus questioned him, " William, what 
 say you to this rhyme ? 
 
 " A rod in the school, 
 And a whip for a fool, 
 Are always in season :" 
 
 To which he instantly replied, 
 
 "A halter and a rope, 
 For him that would be pope, 
 Against all right and reason." 
 
 At the smartness of this reply, the car- 
 dinal bit his lips from vexation, for the 
 bruit was, that he was then " aiming to 
 raise himself to the papal see ;'' a surmise 
 that was soon afterwards validated by the 
 discovery of his private correspondence with 
 the court of Rome. 
 
 But a still more unpalatable jest, and one 
 that is stated to have had a fatal influence 
 on Wolsey's fortunes, is thus recorded in 
 the Pleasant History : there does not, how- 
 ever, appear to have been any real founda- 
 tion for this story. — " Will Sommers paying 
 a visit to the cardinal's fool, named Patch, 
 was invited by him into an innermost, or 
 private cellar, to taste some choice wine ; 
 but having pierced one or two hogsheads, 
 
 nothing came out, and yet they were very 
 heavy. Nothing discouraged, Patch went 
 to another, and so tried half a score. At 
 length Will Sommers, with a hammer that 
 lay by, struck the head off" one of the 
 hogsheads, when there appeared nothing 
 but gold ; at which Will Sommers said no- 
 thing, but when he came to court, tells the 
 King what a cellar of wine he had been in 
 at the cardinal's ; and that his (the King's) 
 cellars yielded no such wines, nor ever 
 would. ' How,' says the King, ' have not I 
 such wine in my cellar?' — 'No, indeed/ 
 said Will, ' for there is never a hogshead in 
 the cardinal's cellar but is worth 10,000^. 
 and better.' — ' aiother of God,' says the 
 King, ' that is such wine that I never heard 
 of: lO.OOOL a hogshead I' — 'Nay,' returned 
 Sommers, ' rather more than less.' — ' Come, 
 sirrah,' says the King, ' tell me your mean- 
 ing, for I know there is something else in 
 it ; tell me, or I will hang thee.' Then 
 Will told the King how Patch, the car- 
 dinal's fool, brought him into his cellar, to 
 drink wine, and broached two or three 
 hogsheads, and no wine came forth : so at 
 length he burst open the head of one of the 
 hogsheads, and that was full of gold, and 
 BO was the next to that, and forty more 
 which he saw. Whereupon the King pre- 
 sently sent messengers and other oflB.cers to 
 the cardinal's cellars, and there flnds 150 
 hogsheads of good gold, which was con- 
 veyed to the exchequer, and was welcome 
 to the King, for at that time he had great 
 need of it. Now the cardinal, hearing of 
 this sad fortune, fell sick at Esher, in Sur- 
 rey, and endeavours to make friends to 
 pacify the King's anger against him, but 
 failing in the attempt, he took it so much to 
 heart as to cause his death soon after." 
 
 Our Jester is reputed to have retained the 
 favour of Henry the Eighth to the last 
 moment of that monarch's life ; and in the 
 mortal illness of the latter, to have been 
 instrumental to the restoration to Mr. Far- 
 mor, his first master, of the undismembered 
 parts of his estate, by some expressions 
 which he dropped that reached the King's 
 conscience. 
 
 Dr. Doran, the historian of Court Fools, in 
 a supplementary chapter communicated to 
 Chambers's Book of Bays, reminds us that 
 Will Sommers's memory was perpetuated 
 by the establishment of the Will Sommers 
 Tavern, in Old Fish-street, whose landlord 
 issued a token with the effigies of Will, in 
 his Tudor state livery : there is a specimen 
 in the Beaufoy cabinet, at the Guildhall. 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 DELIGHTS 01 GOSSIP. 
 
 Afteb, all, few things are more enjoy- 
 able than a good gossip ; at least, 
 when the subject of gossip is not 
 contemporary but historical. We who 
 do not know our next-door neigh- 
 bour's name, who snub our wives and 
 are angry with ourselves if we or they 
 exhibit the least curiosity to pry into 
 affairs which do not concern us, are 
 deliglited with the tattle of Boswell 
 and Horace Walpole, read Cowper's 
 letters as if they were written to our- 
 selves, and like nothing better than to 
 peer over little Burney's shoulder as 
 she indites her diary. We know how 
 many cups of tea Dr. Johnson used 
 to take of a night ; wonder what he 
 did with his collections of orange- 
 peel ; laugh at Gibbon as he makes a 
 declaration of love upon his knees 
 and can't get up again ; try to imagine 
 poor Goldsmith's feelings when the 
 girl came to borrow coals of him in 
 the queerest of coalscuttles ; pity the 
 Prince of Wales when he asked Lord 
 Harris for that memorable glass of 
 brandy ; and can see Pitt distinctly 
 eating his raw beefsteak and drinking 
 his bottle of port before he enters the 
 House to enact another page of his- 
 tory. If it is unsafe to indulge a 
 curiosity of this kind when the objects 
 of it are living, we are under no such 
 restraint with regard to the dead. We 
 cannot offend them with our imperti- 
 nent curiosity. Their movements are 
 not hampered by our prate. Their 
 
 friends are not compromised by our 
 revelations. We cannot injure their 
 credit. Credit now avails them 
 nought. The living may keep up ap- 
 pearances if they like ; hut the dead 
 are what they are, and seeming is not 
 for them. — I'imes Journal. 
 
 A PIKE STOEY. 
 
 Almost every angler has his pike 
 story. Alderman Ansley, who was 
 Lord Mayor in 1808, used to relate 
 that during his Mayoralty, a gigantic 
 pike was taken upon his estate in 
 Huntingdonshire, and straightway 
 forwarded to the Mansion House : a 
 party was invited to eat the fish, but 
 his Lordship's kitchen could not fur- 
 nish a dish long enough to contain it; 
 however, after much search, there was 
 found among the plate of one of the 
 City companies' halls a long silver dish 
 to hold the pike, the bringing in of 
 which by two footmen, and settmg the 
 same upon the table, before the Lord 
 Mayor and his guests, was attended 
 with much pomp and circumstance. 
 
 A DISH OP HERBINGS. 
 
 So great a rarity within the present 
 century was an English-cured herring, 
 that a story is told of Admiral Rod- 
 ney, when dining at Carlton House, 
 congratulating the Prince of Wales 
 upon seeing what he thought to be a 
 dish of Yarmouth bloaters upon the 
 table ; adding, that if the Prince's ex- 
 ample was followed by the upper ranks 
 only, it would be the means of adding 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 twenty thousand hardy seamen to the 
 navy. The Prince observed that he 
 did not deserve the compliment, as 
 the herrings had not been cured by 
 British hands ; " but," he continued, 
 " henceforward I shall order a dish of 
 English-oui-ed herrings to be pur- 
 chased at any expense, to appear as a 
 standing dish at this table. We shall 
 call it a Rodney ; and, under that de- 
 signation, what true patriot will not 
 follow my example ?" 
 
 EATING THE FIRST OYSTER. 
 
 It has been often said that he must 
 have been a bold man who first ate an 
 oyster. This is said in ignorance of 
 the legend which assigns the first act 
 of oyster-eating to a very natural 
 cause. It is related that a man walk- 
 ing one day picked up one of these 
 savoury bivalves, just as it was in the 
 act of gaping. Observing the extreme 
 smoothness of the interior of the 
 shell, he insinuated his finger between 
 them that he miglit feel their shining 
 surface, when suddenly they closed 
 upon the exploring digit, with a sen- 
 sation less pleasurable than he antici- 
 pated. The prompt withdrawal of 
 his finger was scarcely a more natural 
 movement than its transfer to his 
 mouth. It is not very clear why 
 people when they hurt their fingers 
 put them into their mouth ; but it is 
 very certain that they do ; and in this 
 case the result was most fortunate. 
 The owner of the finger tasted oyster- 
 juice for the first time, as the China- 
 man in Ella's essay having burnt his 
 finger first tasted crackling. The sa- 
 vour was delicious ; he had made a 
 great discovery ; so he picked up the 
 oysters, forced open the shells, ban- 
 queted upon their contents, and soon 
 brought oyster-eating into fashion. 
 And unlike most fashions, it has never 
 gone and is never likely to go out. 
 
 COLCHESTER OYSTEE.S. 
 
 The oyster-fishery on the river 
 
 Colne, granted to the burgesses of 
 Colchester by Richard I., employs a 
 great number of men, and some hun- 
 dreds of smacks convey the oysters 
 to London, especially from Pyfleet. 
 
 If, as is generally supposed, Col- 
 chester is the Camalodunum of the 
 Romans, how that luxurious people 
 must have enjoyed tha Colne oysters ! 
 they were gourmets in oyster-eating. 
 
 In 162 i, the Colchester oysters, 
 with green beards, were the favourites. 
 Howel, in his Letters, 5th edit. 1678, 
 writes : " I have sent you two barrels 
 of Colchester oysters, which were 
 provided for my Lord of Colchester 
 himself, therefore I presume they are 
 good, and all green-nnn'd." 
 
 A great oyster-feast is held annually 
 at Colchester, at which the Mayor 
 presides : in 1863 there were 400 
 guests, who are said to have then 
 consumed more than 10,000 white 
 natives of Colchester. The oyster- 
 fishery is the staple and most impor- 
 tant trade of the tovm, and the Colne 
 Fishery Company send a large number 
 of oysters to Belgium, in the treaty 
 with which a special reservation is 
 made with respect to oysters, only a 
 small nominal duty being maintained. 
 
 A HAM BOILED IN MADEIRA WINE. 
 
 This expensive luxury took its rise 
 from an incident which occurred in 
 Prussia, Frederick the Great once 
 condescended to partake of a festival 
 prepared for him by one of his cour- 
 tiers, and among many dishes of ex- 
 quisite flavour, he was particularly 
 struck by that of a ham. He ate of 
 it copiously, accompanying each 
 mouthful with great praise, not only 
 of the meat, but of the cook who had 
 prepared it. A short time afterwards, 
 his majesty directed a ham to be 
 cooked that should have the same fla- 
 vour as the one he had so much en- 
 joyed. On being told how it had been 
 boiled, he expressed astonishment at 
 the novel method ; yet, not to lose 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 himself the pleasure he had promised 
 himself, ordered the cook to apply to 
 the courtier for the requisite quantity 
 of wine. The king being an absolute 
 monarch, the liquor and lives of his 
 subjects were at his disposal ; and 
 being of a despotic temper, no one 
 thought of disobedience ; the wine 
 was furnished, but to check future 
 like requisitions, the boDing ham in 
 wiae was forbidden. 
 
 EATING ASPAKAGUS. 
 
 "When William the Third paid fre- 
 quent visits to Moor Park, one day, 
 Sir William Temple being laid-up with 
 gout, the duty of attending the King 
 devolved upon young Jonathan Swift, 
 who got so much into his majesty's 
 favour, that they dined together, and 
 the King not only taught Swift how 
 to eat asparagus in the Dutch man- 
 ner, but offered to make him captain 
 of a troop of horse. The latter Swift 
 declined, but the asparagus lesson 
 he put in practice. Alderman 
 Taulkner, Swift's printer and pub- 
 lisher, being one day detained at the 
 Deanery, Swiftmada the Alderman stay 
 to dine, when asparagus formed one of 
 the dishes ; the Dean helped his guest, 
 who shortly called upon his host to 
 be helped a second time ; when Swift, 
 pointing to the Alderman's plate, 
 said, " Sir, first finish what you have 
 upon your plate." — "What, sir, eat 
 my stalks ?" — " Aye, sir ! King Wil- 
 liam always eats the stalks !" This 
 story was told by Eanlkner to Dr. 
 Leland, who asked, "And George, 
 what, were you blockhead enough to 
 obey ?"■ — " Yes, Doctor, and if you 
 had dined with Dean Swift tete-a-tete, 
 faith, you would have been obliged to 
 eat your stalks !" 
 
 EARLY GREEN PEAS. 
 
 Cobbett notes in his English Oar- 
 dener : "The late King George III. 
 reigned so long, that his birthday 
 formed a sort of season with gar- 
 
 deners ; and ever since I became a 
 man, I can recollect that it was 
 always deemed a sign of bad garden- 
 ing if there were not green peas in 
 the garden fit to gather on June 4." 
 
 A note in the fifth edition of Pen- 
 nant's London, states that when the 
 editor (in 1812) visited Goldsmiths' 
 Hall, the more opulent members of 
 the Company had experienced a severe 
 disappointment in not being able to 
 procure (on account of the backward- 
 ness of the season) the customary 
 supply of fifty-two quarts of green 
 peas at their annual feast on the 39th 
 of May. Five guineas per quart were 
 offered ; but, unable to obtain the full 
 supply, they, either to prevent com- 
 petition, or the disputes which might 
 arise, wisely abstained from produemg 
 any of this enviable luxury. We sus- 
 pect there is some error in this story. 
 
 David Hume shrewdly observes : 
 " The same care and toil that raise a 
 dish of green peas at Christmas, would 
 give bread to a whole family during six 
 months." This is a calculation some- 
 what in the manner of Joseph Hume. 
 
 " POOE-MAN-O'-MDITON." 
 
 Foor-man-of-mutton is aterm applied 
 to a shoulder of mutton in Scotland, 
 after it has been served as a roast at 
 diimer, and appears as a broiled bone 
 at supper, or at the dinner next day. 
 The iSarl of B., popularly known as 
 Old Hag, being indisposed at an hotel 
 in London, one morning the landlord 
 came to enumerate the good things in 
 his larder, to prevail on his guest to 
 eat something; when his lordship 
 replied, "Landlord, I think I could 
 eat a morsel of a poor man," whicli, 
 with the extreme ugliness of his lord- 
 ship's countenance, so terrified Boni- 
 face, that he fled from the room, end 
 tumbled down stairs ; supposing the 
 Earl, when at home, was m the habit 
 of eating a joint of a vassal or tenant, 
 when his appetite was dainty. — Jamie- 
 son. 
 
 b2 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 DRESSING KHUBiKB. 
 
 Many years ago Prince Metternich 
 first tasted rliubarb tart in England, 
 and was so pleased witlt it that lie 
 took care to send some plants to his 
 Austrian garden. On the occasion of 
 a large party, in the following year, 
 the Prince ordered rhubarb to be 
 served up, dressed as it was in Eng- 
 land. His cook knew nothing of 
 English usage, and, selecting the 
 large leaves, served them up as 
 spinach. The guests made wry faces 
 at this English dish, and well they 
 might ; rhubarb was discarded thence- 
 forth from the Prince's table. 
 
 WOKTH OP A WATEE-MELON. 
 
 A West Indian water-melon, ac- 
 cording to Monk Lewis, has been 
 much overrated : he says, " I never 
 met with a worse article in my life ; 
 the pulp is of a faint greenish yellow, 
 stained here and there with spots of 
 moist red, so that it looks exactly as 
 if the servant, in slicing it, had cut his 
 finger and suffered it to bleed over 
 it. Then the seeds, being of a dark 
 purple, present the happiest imitation 
 of clotted gore ; and, altogether, (pre- 
 judiced as I was by its appearance,) 
 when 1 had put a single bit into my 
 mouth, it had such a kind of Shylocky 
 taste of raw flesh about it (not that I 
 recollect ever having eaten a bit of 
 raw flesh itself), that I sent away my 
 plate, and was perfectly satisfied as to 
 the merit of the fruit." 
 
 ALEXIS SOYER, THE CUISINIEB. 
 
 This celebrated chef was born at 
 Man-en-Bri6, in Prance, in 1800. He 
 was intended for the church, and was 
 educated at the cathedral school of 
 Meaux — instituted by the famous 
 Bossuet — where he remained some 
 years, and officiated as a chorister. 
 He was next sent to Paris, and ap- 
 prenticed to a noted restauraleur in the 
 Palais Royal. There he remained five 
 years ,by which time his elder brother. 
 
 who had been also brought up as a 
 cook, obtained the post of chef to the 
 Duke of Cambridge. Alexis, anxious 
 to see the world, came over to Eng- 
 land, and at Cambridge House he 
 cooked his first dinner in England, 
 for the then Prince George; and it 
 was only by accident that the last 
 dinner he cooked (at the Wellington 
 Barracks) was not partaken of by the 
 same personage. Soyer afterwards 
 entered in the service of Lord Ailsa, 
 Lord Panmure, &c., and became cele- 
 brated for his little dinners at Melton. 
 He then entered into the service of 
 the Reform Club, and the breakfast 
 given by that club, on the occasion of 
 the Queen's coronation, raised Soyer 
 high in his profession. His O'Connell 
 dinner is remembered for its sonifies a 
 la Clontarf — a rich bit of satire. But 
 Soyer's name was brought into more 
 public respect by his offer to Govern- 
 ment to go, in the year of the famine, 
 to Ireland, where he superintended 
 the cooking for 26,000 persons daily. 
 
 In June, 1847, he was entertained 
 at a public dinner at the London 
 Tavern, given by his friends and ad- 
 mirers, for his philanthropic and dis- 
 interested exertions for the relief of 
 the poor. He left the Reform Club 
 in 1850, and his first public under- 
 taking was the great Agricultural 
 dinner at Exeter. In 1851 he took 
 Gore House, which he converted into 
 a vast restaurant, under the designa- 
 tion of the Symposium ; but by this 
 speculation he lost 4000/. After that 
 he employed himself on his cookery- 
 books, and to improve barrack cookery 
 during the war in the Crimea, where he 
 arrived only a little too late. He came 
 home full of schemes to introduce a 
 new system of cooking into tlie army, 
 and it was while working out these 
 that he died, aged 50, from tlie effects 
 of over-fatigue during his exertions in 
 the Crimea. He was a warm-hearted, 
 generous man. 
 
 M. Soyer was interred in Kensal 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 Green Cenieteiy, in the vault erected 
 for his wife. She was a Miss Jones, 
 the adopted daughter of M. Simoneau, 
 a Belgian artist of some reputation. 
 Madame Soyer herself was a painter, 
 and produced some admirable works. 
 
 Of Soyer's principal works on 
 Cookery — his Gastronomic Regene- 
 rator, and his Pantropheon ; his Mo- 
 dem Housewife, and his Shilling 
 Cookery Book, more than 300,000 
 copies have been sold. 
 
 Soyer wiU be hereafter remembered 
 in the records of Gastronomy by the 
 Hundred Guinea Dish, devised by him 
 for the royal table, at the banquet 
 given by the Lord Mayor of York, in 
 1850, to Prince Albert, to propitiate 
 the Great Eihibition of 1S51. This 
 Apician dish contained a small portion 
 of the following articles : — 
 
 Cost. 
 6 Turtle -heads, part of fins, £ s. d. 
 
 and green fat 34 
 
 24 Capons (the two small noix 
 from each side of the mid- 
 dle of the back only used) .880 
 18 Turkeys, the same ... 8 12 
 18 Poulardes, the same ... 5 17 
 16 Fowls, the same .... 2 8 
 
 10 Grouse 2 5 
 
 20 Pheasants, noix only ... 3 
 45 Partridges, the same ... 3 7 6 
 
 6 Plovers, whole 9 
 
 40 Woodcocks, the same ..800 
 3 Dozen Quails, whole ... 3 
 100 Snipes, noix only .... 5 
 3 Dozen Pigeons, noix only . 14 
 6 Dozen Larks, stuffed , . 15 
 Ortolans, from Belgium ... 5 
 The garnish, consisting of cocks'- 
 combs, truffles, mushrooms, 
 crawfish, olives, American 
 asparagus, croustades, 
 
 sweetbreads, quenelles de 
 volaille, green mangoes, 
 and a new sauce . . . . 14 10 
 
 £105 5 
 
 The expensiveness of the above is 
 explained by the fact, that if an epi- 
 cure were to order this dish only, he 
 would be charged for the whole of the 
 above-mentioned articles. 
 
 MR. SPUNGE. 
 
 Many a reader may have met in 
 society such a character as the follow- 
 ing, of Bob Spunge, sketched in a 
 novel entitled lieay Morden : 
 
 His whole existence seemed to be 
 spent in planning and executing diffi- 
 cult frauds upon his acquaintances — 
 every day liable to exposure, and 
 every moment open to insult. The 
 way, it was said, he contrived to live, 
 was by borrowing ten pounds from 
 one man to pay another five. A little 
 after, he borrowed five from this man 
 to pay back part of the ten, and then 
 five from another, to pay the latter 
 the residue of the debt. In this way 
 he actually lived ; and precarious as 
 it was, having neither shed nor shelter, 
 yet he was never observed to be dull 
 or out of spirits. Mirth was to him 
 a business. He knew that men do 
 not like melancholy even in their 
 equals, and cannot tolerate it in their 
 inferiors ; and that a good joke or a 
 merry jest were the best passports, in 
 a knight of the post, to a warm wel- 
 come and a good dinner. Therefore 
 he ever laughed heartily at his own 
 puns, bad or good; humoured his 
 fancy ; put himself out of the way to 
 gratify the most trifling whim ; and it 
 there was an ugly woman, an old man, 
 or a gouty gentleman, to lead up 
 stairs, Bob was the scapegoat. He 
 anticipated the wants of the company; 
 handed the toast, and spread the jam; 
 brought the stool for the short-legged, 
 and took the thief out of the candles; 
 whUe everybody remarked, " What a 
 useful man Mr, Spunge is!" The 
 kettle never boiled over but he had it 
 off in a moment, feelingly deploring 
 the fate of the beautiful register ; he 
 turned the cook of the urn, stopt it 
 when sufficient water had filled the 
 pot, and then closed the lid with as 
 much care as if he were handling the 
 first-born of the family. To the chil- 
 dren he was everything; he called 
 them "pretty dears," even if they 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 were like the globe-claeeked supporters 
 of a communion-table, or the trumpet- 
 faced cherubs in a country church- 
 yard ; wiped their dirty mouths or 
 noses, and never allowed their shoe- 
 strings to remain untied, or their 
 cloaks unclasped, a minute after he 
 perceived them loose. In fine, he was 
 as meanly assiduous to all his ac- 
 quaintances as a tutor is to his pupils 
 before their parents, or a setter to the 
 sportsman's whistle. 
 
 THE TWO HAHYEYS. 
 
 It is odd (says the younger Colman) 
 that I should have known two Har- 
 veys, whose callings, though so very 
 different, caused both one and the 
 other to be daily and hourly witnesses 
 of scenes which smell of mortality : 
 the first being the learned leech, under 
 ■whose care my father recovered from 
 the first attack of his illness at Mar- 
 gate ; the second, the landlord of the 
 Black Dog at Bedfont, in Middlesex, 
 famed for his fish-sauce and his know- 
 ledge and practice of cookery. His 
 well-frequented inn was as well known 
 as were the couple of yews clipped 
 into the form of peacocks, and the 
 date 1704, in the adjoining church- 
 yard. In 1802 Colman, while sojourn- 
 ing at this inn, scrawled the following 
 lines : 
 
 Harvey, whose inn commands a view 
 Of Bedfont's churcli and cliurchyard too. 
 Where yew-trees into peacocks shorn. 
 In vegetable terror mourn ; 
 Is liable, no doubt, to glooms, 
 From " Meditations on the Tombs.'' 
 But while he meditates, he cooks, 
 Thus both to quick and dead he looks ; 
 Turning his mind to nothing save 
 Thoughts on man's gravy, and his grave. 
 Long may he keep from cliurchyard holes 
 Our bodies, with his Sauce for Soles ! 
 Long may he hirider death from beckoning 
 His guests to settle their last reekonbig ! 
 
 HOW TO PUESIDE AT A DINNEK. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott has left these rules : 
 
 " 1st. Always hurry the bottle 
 
 round for five or six rounds, without 
 
 prosing yourself, or permitting others 
 to prose. A slight fillip of wine in- 
 clines people to be pleased, and 
 removes the nervousness which pre- 
 vents men from speaking — disposes 
 them, in short, to be amusing, and to 
 be amused. 
 
 " 2nd. Push on, keep moving ! as 
 young Rapid says. Do not think of 
 saying fine things — nobody cares for 
 them any more than for fine music, 
 which is often too liberally bestowed 
 on such occasions. Speak at all ven- 
 tures, and attempt the moi pour rire. 
 You will fiud people satisfied with 
 wonderfully indifferent jokes, if you 
 can but hit the taste of the company, 
 which depends much on its character. 
 Even a very high party, primed with 
 air the cold irony and non est tanti 
 feelings, or no feelings of fashionable 
 folks, may be stormed by a jovial, 
 rough, round, and ready preses. 
 Choose your text with discretion — 
 the sermon may be as you like. Should 
 a drunkard or an ass break in with 
 anything out of joint, if you can parry 
 it with a jest, good and well — if not, 
 do not exert your serious authority, 
 unless it is something very bad. The 
 authority even of a chairman ought to 
 be very cautiously exercised. With 
 patience, you will have the support of 
 every one. 
 
 " 3rd. When you have drunk a few 
 glasses to play the good-fellow, and 
 banish modesty — (if you are unlucky 
 enough to have such a troublesome 
 companion) — then beware of the cup 
 too much. Nothing is so ridiculous 
 as a drunken preses. 
 
 " Lastly, always speak short, and 
 SJceoch dock na skiel — cut a tale with 
 a drink. 
 
 This is the purpose and intent 
 
 Of gude Schir Walter's testament," 
 
 POKT WINE. 
 So late as Queen Anne's reign, our 
 importation of port wine was very 
 small : it was then customary in 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 London, upon the meeting of two 
 friends, for the one to invite the otlier 
 to a tavern to drink ; or, in vulgar 
 phrase, to " crack a bottle of claret, 
 dashed with port;" thus intimating 
 the comparative rarity of the latter. 
 
 Sir John Sinclair relates, in his 
 Code of Health, that a Mr. Vanhorn, 
 in the space of twenty-three years, 
 drank 36,688 bottles, or 59 pipes of 
 port wine. His usual daily quota was 
 four bottles ! In the course of his life 
 he resembled more a cellar than a 
 man: although there are many 
 cellars that never contained what 
 this man's stomach, first and last, 
 must have doue — ^namely, 59 pipes of 
 port. 
 
 Competent judges are agreed that 
 about tne finest port wine ever known 
 was found at Wotton, in 1824, in 
 some cellars that had been bricked up 
 not later, and perhaps much earlier, 
 than the time of George Grenvilie, 
 the minister, who died in 1770. The 
 Compte de Gosse, maitre-d'hotel to 
 Louis XVIIL, possessed some port 
 which was more than a hundred years 
 old ; but it had lost its colour, and its 
 flavour was by no means fine. 
 
 Lord Palmerston (who, when in 
 ofiice, has been accustomed to employ 
 his pleasantries as paratonnerres for 
 troublesome visitors) one day related 
 the following anecdote to a deputation 
 of gentlemen, who waited upon him 
 to urge the reduction of the wine 
 duties. Keferring to the question of 
 adulterations, "I remember," said 
 his lordship, "my grandfather, Lord 
 Pembroke, wheji he placed wine be- 
 fore his guests, said : ' There, gentle- 
 men, is my champagne, my claret, &c. 
 I am no great judge, and I give you 
 this on the authority of my wine- 
 merchant ; but I can answer for ray 
 port, for I made it myself.' I have 
 still his receipt, which I look on as a 
 curiosity ; but I confess / have never 
 ventured to try it" The following is 
 the veritable receipt which Lord Pem- 
 
 broke adopted : — Eight gallons of 
 genuine port wine, iorty gallons of 
 cider, brandy to fill the hogshead. 
 Elder-tops will give it the proper 
 roughness, and cochineal whatever 
 strength of colouring you please. 
 The quantity made should not be less 
 than a hogshead. It should be kept 
 fully two years in cask, and as long m 
 bottle before it is used. 
 
 In 1858, there was an interesting 
 sale of port wine at Prospect Hill, 
 near Reading. The chief attraction 
 was the old vintage port of all the 
 most celebrated years up to 1820, and 
 including that year, of such wondrous 
 renown among connoisseurs. The 
 prices ranged from 11 guineas to 
 \U. 10*. per dozen, and became in 
 most instances the property of the 
 wine-trade. 
 
 Here is an odd story of saving a 
 bottle of port wine at the expense of 
 a life, at Kensington, nearly oppo- 
 site the road to the Palace, in Colby 
 House, which was built by Sir 
 Thomas Colby, who was created a 
 baronet in 1720, and died in 1729. 
 Dr. King relates of him : " I knew 
 one Sir 'Thomas Colby, who lived at 
 Kensington, and was, I think, a com- 
 missioner in the Victualling Office. 
 He killed himself by rising in the 
 middle of the night, when he was in 
 a very profuse sweat, the effect of a 
 medicine he had taken for that pur- 
 pose, and walking down stairs, to 
 look for the key of the cellar, which 
 he had inadvertently left on a table in 
 his parlour : he was apprehensive 
 that his servants might seize the key, 
 and rob him of a bottle of port wine. 
 This man died intestate, and left more 
 than 200,000/. in the funds, which 
 was shared among five or six day-la- 
 bourers, his nearest relations." 
 
 Madden relates, in the Infirmities of 
 Oemiis, that a baronet well known in 
 the gay world was seized with para- 
 lysis, and found himself, on his return 
 from a convivial party, suddenly de- 
 
8 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 prived of speech, and power of 
 moving one side of his body. Either 
 frona desperation, or an impulse of 
 mental aberration, the gentleman had 
 a bottle of port wine brought to his 
 bed-side, and having finished it, he 
 turned with great composure on his 
 side, and went to sleep. The baronet 
 lived several years afterwards, his in- 
 tellect wholly unimpaired, his speech 
 restored, and his general health as 
 good as ever; and he daily discussed 
 his bottle or two of port with appa- 
 rent impunity. 
 
 Poote was ostentatious and vul- 
 garly fine before his guests. As soon 
 as the cloth was removed from the 
 table, he would ask, "Does anybody 
 drink port?" If the unanimous 
 answer happened to be " No," he al- 
 ways called out to the servant in 
 ■waiting — " Take away the ink." 
 
 Mr. Rogers has left these reminis- 
 cences of Pitt's port drinking: "During 
 Ms boyhood, Pitt was very weakly; and 
 his physician, Addington (Lord Sid- 
 mouth's father), ordered him to take 
 port wine in large quantities ; the 
 consequence was, that when he grew 
 up he could not do without it. Lord 
 Grenville has seen him swallow a 
 bottle of port in tumblerfuls before 
 going to the House. This, together 
 with his habit of eating late suppers, 
 (indigestible cold veal pies, &c.) 
 helped, undoubtedly, to shorten his 
 life. Huskisson, speaking to me of 
 Pitt, said that his bauds shook so 
 much that, when he helped himself to 
 salt, he was obliged to support the 
 light hand with the left. Stothard, 
 the painter, happened to be one even- 
 ing at an inn on the Kent Road, when 
 Pitt and Dundas put up there on their 
 way from Walmer. Next morning, 
 as they were stepping into their car- 
 riage, the waiter said to Stothard, 
 " Sir, do you observe these two gen- 
 tlemen?" " Yes," he replied, "and I 
 know them to be Mr. Pitt and Mr. 
 Dundas." "Well, sir, how much 
 
 wine do you suppose they drank last 
 night?" Stothard could not guess. 
 " Seven bottles, sir." 
 
 A PAMOTJS PIPE or MADEIRA. 
 
 The bidding for the famous pipe of 
 Madeira, at the sale of the effects of 
 the late Duchess de Raguse, in 1S5S, 
 caused a great commotion in Paris. 
 This famous wine, known to all as the 
 "1814 pipe," was fished up near 
 Antwerp in 1814, where it had lain in 
 the carcass of a ship wrecked at the 
 mouth of the Scheld in 1778, and 
 which had lain there ever since. As 
 soon as the valuable discovery was 
 made known, Louis XVllI. de- 
 spatched an agent to secure the pre- 
 cious relic. A share of the glorious 
 beverage was presented to the French 
 Consul, who had assisted at its dis- 
 covery, and thus it came into the 
 cellars of the Duke de Raguse. Only 
 four and forty bottles were remaining, 
 and these were literally sold for their 
 weight in gold to Rothschild, who 
 was opposed by Veron and Milland. 
 Veron was angry, because he declared 
 that he had made the reputation of 
 the wine, by mentioning it in his Me- 
 moirs, on the occasion of the dinner 
 given to Taglioni by the Duchess de 
 Raguse, whereat the famous "1814" 
 was produced as the greatest honour 
 to be paid to the great artist. 
 
 CHOOSING WINE. 
 
 Lord Carlisle, writing from the 
 continent, to his friend, George Sel- 
 wyn, asks him to bespeak him a pipe 
 of exceeding good claret, adding : " I 
 do not mean that you shall have any- 
 thing to do in the choosing of it fur 
 me, for you can drink ink and water 
 if you are told it is claret. Get 
 somebody who understands it to taste 
 it for you." 
 
 AN AEMY DaUNK WITH CHAMPAGNE. 
 
 The whole French army was drunk 
 the night alter the battle of W'agram. 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 It lay in vineyards ; and in Austria, 
 the cellai-s are situated in the grounds 
 upoa which the vine is grown. The 
 vintage was good, the quantity abun- 
 dant — the soldiers drank, immode- 
 rately; and the Anstrians, had they 
 but known that the French were over- 
 come with liquor and sleep, and made 
 a sudden attack upon them in thenight, 
 might have put them completely to the 
 rout. It would have been impossible 
 to make one-tenth of the soldiers be- 
 take themselves to arms. On what 
 threads hang the destinies of em- 
 pires ! All might that day have been 
 changed — the fifth act of the great 
 drama whioli had been so long per- 
 forming in Europe might have had a 
 wine-cellar for a denouement. 
 
 HEAD-QUAMEaS OP CHAMPAGNE. 
 
 This delectable spot is just without 
 the town of Epernay, on the slope of 
 a hill, which, like all those round 
 Epernay, is covered with the famous 
 champagne vines. The entrance is 
 through a handsome pair of iron 
 gates, within which stands M. Moet's 
 house, in which Napoleon slept at the 
 time of the battle of Montmirail, in 
 1814 ; which historical fact, not for- 
 getting his visit to the cellars, is re- 
 corded in letters of gold upon a huge 
 slab over the entrance. The cellars 
 extend upwards of a mile under the 
 hill, and ramify into endless pas- 
 gages. They always contain several 
 millions of bottles; and it is 
 cni'ious to contemplate the huge army 
 of long-necked flasks, with their 
 shining silver helmets. In some sea- 
 sons, the breakage is tremendous; 
 when troops of men, clothed in de- 
 fensive armour, are sent down to 
 quell the insurrection. For, when 
 the explosions are frequent, and the 
 breakage abundant, the workmen who 
 are despatched to suppress the dis- 
 turbance wear wire masks to protect 
 themselves from the broken glass, 
 ■which is projected shell-fashion with 
 
 considerable force. So disastrous are 
 these explosions, that on one memo- 
 rable occasion upwards of 500,000 
 bottles were lost before a snfSoienfc 
 quantity of ice could be thrown into 
 the cellars, to lower the high tempe- 
 rature, which caused excessive fer- 
 mentation. In all years a certain loss 
 arises from the latter cause, althongli 
 the greatest care is taken to reject all 
 bottles which are not strong and of 
 uniform thickness. The estimated 
 average of loss from breakage is 20 
 per cent. : it varies, however, accord- 
 ing to the temperature of the seasons 
 from 5 to 40. AH the manufaotui'ing 
 operations are carried on in the absence 
 of daylight. Yet, what more beauti- 
 ful than an abundant vintage when a 
 cloudless sky smiles upon the merriest 
 harvest of the year, and the golden 
 Vfflfeyards are peopled with peasants, 
 happy because the weather is fine and 
 the vintage is good ? Then are the 
 roads full of fine donkeys bearing 
 heaps of luscious grapes to the 
 streaming wine-presses. The juice 
 remains in the cask for about four 
 months, when it is bottled. Now 
 commences a series of very delicate 
 operations. Each bottle is placed, 
 with its neck downwards, in long 
 racks, having holes cut for the pur- 
 pose, and it is shaken occasionally, in 
 order to detach the sediment from the 
 sides, and to cause it to subside into 
 the neck. "VA'hen this effect is pro- 
 duced, the wire retaining the cork is 
 cut, and the cork and sediment are 
 driven out by the carbonic acid gas. 
 The greatest dexterity is required on 
 the part of the workmen to get rid of 
 the sediment without wasting the 
 wine. The bottle is then filled up 
 with pure wine, recorked and re- 
 stacked. This operation is termed 
 disgorging, and it is repeated until no 
 sediment remains. On the last occa- 
 sion the wine receives a dose of 
 liqueur, which is prepared with great 
 care, and is perfectly pure. It con- 
 
10 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 sists of sugar-candy dissolved in white 
 wine for ordinary champagne, and in 
 red wine for pink. But for the Eng- 
 lish market a petit soupgon of brandy 
 is added, the English palate being 
 spoilt by strong brandied wines. The 
 champagne exported to Russia, and 
 that kept for home consumption, is 
 perfectly pure. Formerly the final 
 operations of corking, wiring, and 
 capping the bottles, was tedious and 
 expensive, as each bottle had to pass 
 through several hands. Now, a most 
 ingenious machine, by the simple de- 
 pression of a lever, effects the work, 
 and in a much more efficacious manner 
 than heretofore. The greatest care is 
 taken to select good corks, and it may 
 convey some idea of the gigantic 
 nature of Messrs. Moet's* concern, 
 when it is stated that 7000/. per 
 annum is paid for corks alone. Tliey 
 are subjected to immense pressure 
 before being introduced into the neck 
 of the bottle. This line 
 
 represents the diameter of the eorks 
 before they are compressed. 
 
 The average quantity of genuine 
 champagne annually produced is said 
 to exceed fil'ty millions of bottles, a 
 quantity, however, quite insufficient 
 to meet the public demand, as the great 
 numbers of establishments for the pro- 
 duction of spurious champagne attest. 
 It is stated on good authority, that in 
 one establishment alone upwards of 
 500,000 bottlesofso-calledchampague, 
 made principally from the stalks of 
 the rhubarb, are annually sold. We 
 give the relative consumption of real 
 champagne by different countries from 
 the following return of the sales in 
 1843 of the department of the Marne. 
 
 * M. Moet, whose name is so well known 
 to all drinkers of cliampagnc, more or less 
 
 fenuine, died, in September, 1841, aged 80. 
 'rom the fondness of tke late Eing of 
 Prussia for Madame Clicquot's champagne, 
 his majesty received the sobriquet of King 
 Clicijuot. 
 
 The total quantity amounted to 
 2,689,000 bottles, which were thus 
 distributed : — England and British 
 India, 467,000; Russia and Poland, 
 502,000 ; Germany, including Prussia 
 and the Austrian dominions, 439,000; 
 United States of America and the 
 West Indies, 400,000 ; Italy, 60,000; 
 Belgium, 56,000; Holland, 30,000; 
 Sweden and Denmark, 30,000 ; Swit- 
 zerland, 30,000 ; South America, 
 30,000 ; S]win and Portugal, 20,000 ; 
 Turkey, 5000 ; and Prance, 620,000 
 bottles. 
 
 Although the tourist may regale 
 himself with champagne on the spot 
 at two francs a bottle, a good flask 
 cannot be had under five francs. Por 
 this sum the landlord of the Lion d'Or 
 will furnish a very delicious bottle of 
 veritable champagne. — Athenceum, 
 abridged. 
 
 CLARET-DEINKING BOTJX IN SCOTLAND. 
 
 In the last century, a love of this 
 precious liquor to any degree was not 
 reckoned a sin in Scotland. Excess 
 in port would have been disgusting ; 
 many men, such as John Home, not 
 being able to touch it ; but claret was 
 divine, and always excusable. Some 
 curious examples are related of the 
 extent to wiiich the Scottish clergy 
 were allowed to indulge their par- 
 tiality for combining the spirituous 
 with the spiritual in their calling. 
 Dr. Webster, a leader of the High- 
 flying party in the Kirk, was a five- 
 bottle man, and could lay all his fel- 
 low-topers under the table. If a 
 Highflying leader could excel in this 
 way, the Sloderate clergy were not to 
 be left behind. Dr. Carljle gives an 
 account of a very agreeable tour which 
 he made round the country with his 
 father, with a Mr. Jardine, and with a 
 Mr. Allan, all ministers of the Kirk. 
 These " very orthodox and pious cler- 
 gymen" had a remarkable turn for 
 buffoonery, and, to diversify their more 
 serious conversation on the state of 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 11 
 
 religion throughout the country, 
 turned their wio-s' tails to front, made 
 faces at the children on the road, and 
 performed sundry arimaces and antics 
 that were, no doubt, more laugbable 
 than edifying. They had not gone 
 far on their journey when they arrived 
 at Bride Kirk, at which mansion it 
 was incumbent on them to call. The 
 laird was from home, but his lady was 
 there, and insisted on their drinking a 
 bottle of brandy upon the spot. It 
 was the third bottle of brandy which 
 they had consumed that morning, say- 
 ing grace in most reverent fashion be- 
 fore each. On this occasion it was 
 Mr. Jardine's turn to say grace, and 
 he seems to have oppressed Ids friends 
 by the length of his devotions — the 
 travellers being on horseback all the 
 time, and puUing long faces over their 
 saddles. The brandy was then poured 
 out in beer-glasses, and the reverend 
 gentlemen at once knocked off their 
 third bottle. We are amused with 
 these holy men so steadily imbibing 
 their three bottles of a forenoon, and 
 saying a long grace before each ; and 
 we are not to oe astonished when we 
 hear that the laity were mucli worse. 
 Dr. Carlyle describes his father as 
 passing long hours in prayer and theo- 
 logical discussion with Lord Grange, 
 and then sitting down to carouse over 
 deep potations. This sort of intimacy 
 would last for months together, until 
 Grange, getting tired of tlie religious 
 part of the business, would disappear 
 for months, in which he neglected re- 
 ligion altogether, and gave iiimself up 
 to debauchery. Weary of his debau- 
 chery, he would return penitent to his 
 religious exercises, proving himself, 
 as our author imagines, to be equally 
 sincere in his devotion to the bottle 
 and in his familiarity with spiritual 
 things. Human nature, he says, is 
 capable of wonderful freaks, and men 
 notorious for their profligacy, who 
 could have no rational object in play- 
 ing a part, have been seen drowned in 
 
 tears of repentance on the Sunday. 
 " The natural casuistry of the passions 
 grants dispensations with more facility 
 than the Church of Rome."- 
 
 ABOUT GIN. 
 
 Droll things have been said of gin. 
 Burke, in one of his spiritual flights, 
 exclaimed : " Let the thunders of the 
 pulpit descend upon drunkenness, I 
 tor one stand up for gin." This is a 
 sort of paraphrase on Pope's couplet : 
 This calls the church to deprecate our sin. 
 And hurls the thunder of our laws on gin. 
 
 It has been oddly said that the word 
 gin is associated with a name famous 
 in poetry and romance — Ginera, or 
 Ginuera, the favourite lady of Ariosto; 
 which caused him to immortalize the 
 juniper-tree, as Petrarch did the laurel. 
 
 A learned wag has defined oxygen 
 to be pure gin, and hydrogen gin-and- 
 water. 
 
 The definition of gin, quoted from 
 Sir John Hill, in Johnson's Dictionary, 
 is as follows : " A sort of spirit dis- 
 tilled from the juniper-berry ; what is 
 commonly sold is no better an ingre- 
 dient than oil of turpentine put into 
 the still, with a little common salt, 
 and the coarsest spirit." Tliis shows 
 the adulteration to have been as un- 
 masked in the last century as in our 
 time by Dr. Hassall and others. 
 
 In Douglas Jerrold's play of T!ie 
 Bill-sticker, the principal character 
 (the Bdl-sticker) falls drunk, at full 
 length, upon the floor. " What do 
 you call that ? " says a bystander. 
 " A tremendous fall in gin !" is the 
 confident reply. 
 
 When at Naples, Sir William Hamil- 
 ton had a casino at Portici, some little 
 distance from Mount Vesuvius, as he 
 was in the habit of approaching the 
 crater as near as he could venture. 
 He often took up his residence there ; 
 and upon such an occasion, a visitor 
 was left alone to dine with Lady 
 Hamilton and her motlier, who had 
 followed her from England. In the 
 
12 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 course of conversation, when the ex- 
 cellence of the Lacryma Chrisii, the 
 famous Italian wine, was talked of, the 
 mother ejaculated, "Oh! as how I 
 had some English gin here !" The 
 visitor, who had taken some with him, 
 directly dispatched his servant to his 
 hotel at Naples for it. On his re- 
 turn, the mother, delighted with the 
 old flavour, soon bore evidence of the 
 improvement the juniper-berry had 
 upon her vulgar tongue; and the 
 glass increasing, she declared in 
 ecstasy she " had not never enjoyed 
 the good creature (gin) since she left 
 England ; it was far belterer than all 
 your outlandish wines .'" 
 
 ceockpokd's club-house. 
 
 Crockford, who established the 
 Club which bore his name, in the house 
 now the "Wellington," in St. James's- 
 street, was a remarkable man. Ac- 
 cording to the Edinburgh Review, — 
 
 " Crockford started in life as a fish- 
 monger, in the old bulk-shop next 
 door to Temple Bar Without, which 
 he quitted for "play" in St. James's. 
 He began by taking Watier's old club- 
 house, where he set up a hazard-bank, 
 and won a groat deal of money ; he 
 then separated fjoni his partner, who 
 had a bad year, and failed. Crockford 
 now removed to St. James's-street, 
 had a good year, and built the mag- 
 nificent cluo-house which bore his 
 name ; the decorations alone are said 
 to have cost him 94,000/. The elec- 
 tion of the club members was vested 
 in a committee; the house appoint- 
 ments were superb, and Ude was en- 
 gaged as rmttre d' hotel. ' Crockford' s' 
 now became the high fashion. Card- 
 tables were regularly placed, and whist 
 was played occasionally ; but the aim, 
 end, and final cause of the whole was 
 the. .hazard-bank, at which the pro- 
 prietor took his nightly stand, prepared 
 for all comers. His speculation was 
 eminently successful. During several 
 years, everything that anybody had to 
 
 lose and cared to risk was swallowed 
 up ; and Crockford became a million- 
 aire. He retired in 1840, 'much as 
 an Indian chief retires from a hunting 
 country when there is not game enough 
 left for his tribe ;' and the Club then 
 tottered to its fall. Aft.er Crockford's 
 death the lease of the club-house 
 (thirty-two years, rent 1400/.) was 
 sold for 2900/." 
 
 THE COOL TANKAKD. 
 
 This fine old City drink used to be 
 flavoured with the herb borage : " The 
 only use I ever saw borage put to," 
 says Cobbett, "was putting it into 
 wine and water, along with nutmeg, 
 and some other things, perhaps, the 
 mixture altogether being the cool 
 tankard, or by the shorter name cup" 
 
 It was formerly customary for the 
 Lord Mayor when on his way in state 
 to proclaim Bartholomew Fair, to 
 call and partake of " a cool tankard" 
 with the Governor of Newgate. This 
 custom, which ceased in the second 
 mayoralty of the late Sir Matthew 
 Wood, occasioned the death of Sir 
 John Shorter, Lord Mayor in 1683, 
 and maternal grandfather of Horace 
 Walpole. In holding the tankard, he 
 let the lid flap down with so much 
 force that his horse started (he was on 
 horseback), and he was thrown to the 
 ground. He died the next day. 
 
 TOBACCO, AXD SMOKERS, 
 
 The history of Tobacco has been 
 written in almost countless tracts and 
 volumes. The claim of America to 
 the practice of smoking it is doubted ; 
 but Mr. Steinmetz has shown this be- 
 lief lobe true. In every Herbal, the 
 plant is described as imported from 
 America, and the same may be said of 
 all the accounts of tobacco written by 
 the Spaniards. Gerarde describes it 
 as planted in the gardens of Europe 
 (1597). Lobel, in his Eortun Kew- 
 ensis, states that it was grown in Eng- 
 land in 1570 — referring to the species 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 13 
 
 called NicoUana rustira — and from its 
 general cultivation, Bnglisli tobacco ; 
 " not that it is naturall of England," 
 says Pai'kinson, " bnt because it is 
 more commonly grown in every coun- 
 trey-garden almost, and better en- 
 dureth than the other." He also 
 states this interesting fact : — " I have 
 known Sir Walter Raleigh, when he 
 was prisonerin the Tower, make choice 
 of this sort to make good tobacco of, 
 ■which he knew so rightly to cure, as 
 they call it, that it was held almost as 
 good as that which came from the 
 Indies, and fully as good as any other 
 made in England." Now, when we 
 contend that the honour of introducing 
 tobacco- smoking is due to Raleigh, we 
 mean that he led the fashion — not 
 that he was the first Englishman who 
 smoked. His patent for the colony 
 of Virginia dated 1584, and besides 
 the individual gratification, he had an 
 interest in the general consumption of 
 the commodity : indeed, he also raised 
 it extensively on his estate in Ireland. 
 The Frenchman, Charles Estienne, 
 seems to have been the first to give 
 an account of the plant, in 1564; 
 which treatise, short and inaccurate, 
 was amplified and corrected in the 
 following year by John Liebault, in 
 his Maison Rmtique, a work repub- 
 lished annually for twenty years after. 
 Both these writers refer tobacco ex- 
 clusively- to America. Dr. Short, 
 writing in 1750, has the following : — 
 " But Sir Walter Raleigh's mariners, 
 ■under Mr. Ralph Lane, his agent in 
 Virginia, first brought this commodity 
 [prepared tobacco] into England, anno 
 1584; and that famous proprietor of 
 this plantation foresaw good reasons 
 to introduce the use of it, however 
 King James might afterwards, through 
 his own personal distaste both of it 
 and him, write his Counterblast 
 against it ; a work surely consistent 
 with the pen of no Prince, but one of 
 his politicks, seeing this leaf brings a 
 revenue to the publick treasury of no 
 
 less (many times) than 000,000/. a- 
 year. Sir Walter likewise was the 
 first that brought the custom of 
 smoking it into Britain, upon his re- 
 turn from America ; for he saw the 
 natives of Florida, Brazil, and other 
 places of the Indies, smoak it thus, — 
 thoy hung about their necks little 
 pipes or horns, made of the leaves of 
 the date-tree, or of reeds or rushes ; 
 and at the ends of them they put 
 several dry tobacco-leaves twisted and 
 broken, and set the end of them on 
 fire, and sucked in as much of the 
 smoak as they could; this they affirmed 
 satiated their hunger, quenched their 
 thirst, revived their spirits, recovered 
 their strength, made them more light 
 and clear, banished their droopings 
 and melancholy clouds, and relieved 
 their stomach from much phlegm." 
 The testimony of old Aubrey is direct 
 as to Raleigh, — and as to Sir Walter 
 Long, of Draycot, the intimate friend 
 of Raleigh — the latter having intro- 
 duced the custom into North Wilts. 
 Nay, a contemporary, Henry Buttes, 
 in 1599, gives the honour to Raleigh, 
 in the following glorious style: — 
 " Our English Ulysses, renowned Syr 
 Walter Rawleigh, a man admirably 
 excellent in navigation, of nature's 
 privy counsell, and infinitely reade in 
 the wide book of the worlde, hath 
 both farre felcht it and deare bought 
 it." ' Dyet's Dry Dinner, — Tobacco.' 
 — These facts are from a very inte- 
 resting paper communicated, by Mr. 
 Steinmetz, to the Athenaum, No. 
 1553, correcting a previous statement, 
 made in that journal. 
 
 That painstaking antiquary and im^ 
 partial writer, Mr. Fairholt, F.S.A., 
 has published a volume of great re- 
 search, entitled Tobacco: its Historic 
 and Associations — which presents all 
 that is to be known about tobacco. 
 This exhaustive treatment of the sub- 
 jectis not to our present anecdoticpur- 
 pose. The gossiping story of Raleigh's 
 first smoking tobaccoin England, in the 
 
u 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 British Jpollo, p. 376, 4f]i edit., is — 
 "Sir Walter, having imitated the 
 Indians, by deligliting in his favourite 
 ■weed, was unwilling to disuse it, and 
 therefore, at his return to England, 
 supplied himself with some hogsheads, 
 which he placed in his own study, and 
 generally indulged himself in smoking 
 secretly two pipes a-day; at which 
 time he ordered a simple fellow, who 
 waited at his study door, to bring him 
 up a tankard of old ale and nutmeg, 
 always laying aside the pipe when he 
 heard the servant coming. But while 
 lie was one day earnestly employed 
 in reading something which amused 
 bim, the fellow entered, and surprising 
 his master, as the smoke ascended 
 thickly from his mouth, and the bowl 
 of the pipe, he threw the ale directly 
 in his face, and running downstairs, 
 alarmed the family with repeated ex- 
 clamations that his master was on 
 fire in the inside, and before they 
 could get upstairs, would be burnt to 
 ashes" 
 
 Dr. Sydenham, the celebrated phy- 
 sician, was a great smoker. Pie was 
 living in Pall Mall from 1634 to 1689. 
 Mr. Fox told Mr. Rogers that Syden- 
 ham was siti ing at his window, looking 
 on the Mall, with his pipe in his 
 mouth, and a silver tankard before 
 him, when a fellow made a snatch at 
 the tankard, and ran off with it. Nor 
 was be overtaken, said Pox, before he 
 got among the bushes in Bond-street, 
 and thtrethey lost him. (Gunning- 
 ham's Bandhook of London.) 
 
 Dr. Aldrich, the Oxford Professor 
 of Music, w as an inveterate smoker, 
 and in the university, the following 
 story, among others, passed current : 
 • — A young student of the college 
 once finding some difficulty to bring 
 a young gentleman — his chum — into 
 the belief of it, laid him a wager that 
 the dean was smoking at that instant, 
 viz., about ten o'clock in the morning. 
 Away, therefore, went the student to 
 the deanery, where, being admitted 
 
 to the dean in his study, he related 
 the occasion of his visit. To which 
 the dean replied, in perfect good hu- 
 mour, " You see you have lost your 
 wager, for I'm not smoking, but filling 
 my pipe." 
 
 In the Pleasant Musical Companion, 
 printed in 1726, are two catches of 
 Dr. Aldrich, the one, " Hark the 
 bonny Christ-Church Bells," the other 
 entitled, " A smokintr-catch, to be 
 sung by four men smoking their pipes, 
 not more difiicult to sing than divert- 
 ing to hear." 
 
 The catch above mentioned was 
 made to be sung by the dean, Mr. 
 Sampson Estwick, then of Christ 
 Church, and afterwards of St. Paul's, 
 and two other smoking friends. Mr. 
 Estwick is plainly pointed out by the 
 words, " I prithee Sam, fill." 
 
 Although the lovers of smoking 
 have pressed Old Parr into their evi- 
 dence in its favour, they must yield to 
 the authority of Taylor, the Water 
 Poet, who in his Old, Old, very Old 
 Man ; or the Age and Life of Thomas 
 I'arr, says : 
 
 He had but little time to waste. 
 Or at the ale-house, huiF-cap ale to taste ; 
 Nor did he ever hunt a tavern fox ; 
 Ne'er knew a coach, tobacco, &c. 
 
 Inveterate smokers have reached 
 veiy great ages. Hobbes, who smoked 
 twelve pipes a-day at Chatsworth, at- 
 tained the age of 92 ; Isaac Walton, 
 90 ; Dr. Parr, 78— all devoted lovers 
 of the pipe; and Dr. Isaac Barrow 
 called tobacco his " panpharmaoon." 
 Newton has been erroneously set 
 down a smoker. 
 
 In 1769, died Abraham Pavrot, a 
 Swiss baker, aged 104; to the last 
 he walked firmly, read without spec- 
 tacles, and always had a pipe in his 
 mouth. 
 
 In 1845, died Pheasy Molly, of 
 Buxton, Derbyshire, aged 96 ; she was 
 burnt to death, her clothes becoming 
 ignited whilst lighting her pipe at 
 the fire. 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 15 
 
 In 1856, there died at Wellbury, 
 North Riding of Yorkshire, Jane 
 Garbutt, aged 110; she retained her 
 faculties and enjoyed her pipe to the 
 last ; she had smoked " very nigh a 
 hundred years." 
 
 Wadd, in his Comments on Corpu- 
 lency, mentions an aged Effendi, 
 "whose back was bent like a bow, 
 and who was in the habit of taking 
 daily 4 ounces of rice, 30 cups of 
 coffee, and three drams of opium, be- 
 sides smoking 60 pipes of tobacco." 
 
 Mr. Chatto, in has amusing Paper 
 of Tobacco, relates that a year or two 
 ago there was living at Hildhausen, 
 in Silesia, Henry Hartz, aged 142, 
 who had been a tobacco-taker from 
 his youth, and still continued to smoke 
 a pipe or two every day. 
 
 "the toweb of eepentance." 
 Sir Eichard Steele, in one of his 
 journeys to Scotland, soon after he 
 bad crossed the Border, near Annan, 
 observed a shepherd on a hill-side, and 
 reading a book. He and his compa- 
 nions rode up, and one of them asked 
 the man what he was reading. It 
 proved to be the Bible. " And what 
 do you learn from this book ?" asked 
 Sir Richard. " I learn from it the 
 way to Heaven." "Very well," re- 
 plied the Knight, " we are desirous of 
 going to the same place, and wish you 
 would show us the way." Then the 
 shepherd, turning about, pointed to a 
 tall and conspicuous object on an 
 eminence, at some miles' distance, and 
 said : " Weel, gentlemen, ye maun 
 just gang by that tower." The party, 
 surprised and amused, demanded to 
 know how the tower was called. The 
 shepherd answered, " It is the Tower 
 of Bepeniance." 
 
 It was so in verity. Some centu- 
 ries ago, a Border cavalier, in a fit of 
 remorse, had built a tower, to which 
 he gave the name of Repentance. It 
 lies near Hoddam House, in the parish 
 of Cumraertrees, rendered by its emi- 
 
 nent situation a conspicuous object to 
 all the country round. — Chambers's 
 Domestic Annals of Scotland. 
 
 STOLEN GAINS. 
 
 There is a story of a nobleman who, 
 finding his housekeeping bills in a 
 very inflamed state, determined upon 
 desperate measures and sent for his 
 cook. When the artiste in cap and 
 apron obeyed the summons he was 
 asked by his master, in a soft confi- 
 dential tone, how much he made yearly 
 out of his place beyond the wages 
 paid to him. The cook, who was a 
 frank and conscientious man, reckoned 
 up his commissions, and his gains 
 upon truffles and fish and other mis- 
 cellaneous importations, and his sales 
 of property, by strained suppositions, 
 held to be useless ; and he made out 
 his gains at something more than 100/. 
 a year over his wages. " Very well," 
 said the logical master, " you are an 
 excellent cook, and I can't afford to 
 lose you or displease you. But this 
 100/. a year must all come out of my 
 pocket, and cannot cost me less than 
 200/., for you must be dividing the 
 profit of waste with my tradesmen. 
 Now, suppose I add the 100/. a-year 
 to your wages, and you undertake to 
 protect my interests against every one 
 else, and take no profits or commis- 
 sions or perquisites of any kind ?" 
 The story goes that the cook was at 
 first stunned by the violent novelty of 
 the proposition, then hesitated, but 
 finally declined the offer as " contrary 
 to his principles." He could not live 
 without doing a little job now and 
 then. The 10 per cent, upon an un- 
 necessary cwt. of meat was sweeter 
 than double the money in coarse, com- 
 mon-place wages. The half-crown 
 gained by a sort of white robbery is 
 better than five shillings received in a 
 plain matter-of-fact way. — Times 
 Journal. 
 
 JUPITEB CAHLTLE. 
 
 Dr. Carlyle was the incumbent of a 
 
16 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 poor Scottisl: manse in the nsighbour- 
 iiood of Edinburgh ; but he was fond 
 of society, moved much about, and 
 came continually in contact, some- 
 times into friendship, with the best 
 men of his time. He studied at Ley- 
 den, where he became intimate with 
 John Willies, Charles Townshend, and 
 Dr. John Gregory. At Edinburgli he 
 was liand and glove with Hume and 
 Kobertson, John Home, Adam Fer- 
 guson, Adam Smith, and many more 
 of the same stamp. He knew Colonel 
 <jardiner well, and was present at the 
 battle of Prestonpans, in which the 
 Colonel was killed. Returning from 
 his studies at Leyden, who sliould he 
 liave in the same boat with him but 
 Yioletti, the dancer, who afterwards 
 became the wife of David Garrick ? 
 He knew Garrick well, and greatly 
 astonished the actor by his perform- 
 ances at the royal game of golf. Both 
 for his social qualities and for his ex- 
 ceeding influence in the Kirk, he had 
 a large acquaintance, not only among 
 literary and artistic people, but also 
 in the higher walks of life — dukes, 
 marquises, and earls ; in a word, all 
 the foremost men of his time. He 
 seems to have been hail fellow with 
 almost every class of society, and to 
 have held his own under every variety 
 of circumstance. Sir Walter Scott 
 paints him to the life. " The grand- 
 est demigod I ever saw was Dr. Car- 
 lyle, minister of Musselburgh, com- 
 monly called Jupiter Carlijle, from 
 having sat more than once for the 
 King of Gods and Men to Gavin Ha- 
 milton; and a shrewd, clever old 
 carle was he." A shrewd, clever old 
 carle, much given to jolly suppers, 
 and with a constitution such as he 
 himself ascribes to one of his friends, 
 another Scottish divine — a constitu- 
 tion able to bear the conviviality of 
 the time. He was a leading man in 
 what is called the Moderate party in 
 the Kirk. The name is harmless 
 enough, and would seem to imply a 
 
 middle course of action. In reality 
 it meant in those days the party op- 
 posed to the Wild or Highflying set, 
 who were also called the Mad, so that 
 in process of time there came to be 
 three sections of the Kirk, known by 
 the easily intelligible names of the 
 Mod, the Mid, and the Mad. The 
 Mods, or Moderates, were supposed 
 to be little better than heathens. 
 David Hume, on hearing Alexander 
 Carlyle preach hi John Home's church, 
 said to him very pointedly, "What 
 did you mean by treating John's con- 
 gregation to-day with one of Cicero's 
 academics ? I did not think that such 
 heathen morality would have passed 
 in East Lothian." — Times Journal. 
 
 A KEFOEMED GAMESTBK. 
 
 Colonel Thomas Paiiton was a cele- 
 brated gamester of the time of the 
 Restoration, and who, in one night, 
 it is said, won as many thousands as 
 purchased him an estate of above 
 1500/. a-year. "After this good for- 
 tune," says Lucas, " he had such an 
 aversion against all manner of games, 
 that he would never handle cards or 
 dice again ; but lived very handsomely 
 on his winnings to his dying day, 
 which was in the year 168L Colonel 
 Panton was the last proprietor of the 
 gaming-house called Piccadilly Hall, 
 and was in possession of land on the 
 site of the streets and buildings which 
 bear his name, as early as the year 
 1664. Yet we remember to have seen 
 it stated that Panton-street was named 
 from a particular kind of horse-shoe 
 called a panton ; and from the conti- 
 guity of the street to the Haymarket, 
 this explanation was long credited. 
 
 A KISS PaOM CHAKLES II. 
 
 The King's Head tavern. No. 25, 
 in the Poultry, was kept in Charles 
 the Second's time by William King. 
 His wife, happening to be in labour 
 on the day of the King's Restoration, 
 was anxious to see the returning 
 monarch, and Charles, in passing 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 17 
 
 thronirh the Poultry, was told of her 
 mcliuation, and stopped at the tavern 
 to salute her. 
 
 HOW TO MAKE THE WASSAIL-BOWL. 
 
 Simmer a small quantity of the fol- 
 lowing spices in a teacupful of water, 
 viz. : — Cardamums, cloves, nutmeg, 
 mace, ginger, cinnamon, and coriander. 
 When done, put the spice to two, 
 four, or six bottles of port, sherry, or 
 madeira, with one pound and a half of 
 fine loaf sugar (pounded) to four bot- 
 tles, and set all on the (ire in a clean 
 bright saucepan; meanwhile, have 
 yolks of 12 and the whites of 6 eggs 
 well whisked up in it. Then, when 
 the spiced and sugared wine is a little 
 warm, take out one teacupful ; and so 
 on for three or four cups : after which, 
 when it boils, add the whole of the 
 remainder, pouring it in gradually, 
 and stirring it briskly all the time, so 
 as to froth it. The moment a fine 
 froth is obtained, toss in 12 fine soft 
 roasted apples, and send it up hot. 
 Spices for each bottle of wine : — 10 
 grains of mace, 46 grains of cloves, 
 37 grains of cardamums, 28 grains of 
 cinnamon, 12 grains of nutmeg, 48 
 grains of ginger, 49 grains of corian- 
 der seeds. 
 
 ODD BETS. 
 
 A critic in the National Seview, 
 profiting by the Handbook of London, 
 and the Curiosities of London, as text- 
 books, writes : In the betting-books 
 at White's and Brookes's Clubs, which 
 still exist, may be found bets on all 
 conceivable siibjects — bets on births, 
 deaths, and marriages : on the length 
 of a life, or the duration of a ministry; 
 on a rascal's risk of the halter, or a 
 placeman's prospect of a coronet ; on 
 the chances of an election, or the 
 sanity of the King; on the shock of 
 an earthquake, or the last scandal at 
 Banelagh, or Madame Cornelys'. A 
 man dropped down at the door of 
 White's ; he was carried into the 
 house. Was he dead or not? The 
 
 odds were immediately given and 
 taken for and against. It was pro- 
 posed to bleed him. Those who had 
 taken the odds the man was dead 
 protested that the use of a lancet 
 would affect the fairness of the bet. 
 Walpole has a good story of a person, 
 who, coming into White's on the 
 morning of the earthquake of 1750, 
 and hearing bets laid whether the 
 shock was caused by an earthquake, 
 or the blowing up of powder-mills, 
 went away in horror, protesting they 
 were such an impious set, that he be- 
 lieved, "if the last trump were to 
 sound, they would bet puppet-show 
 against judgment." One Mr. Blake 
 betted 1500Z. that a man could live 
 twelve hours under water ; hired a 
 desperate fellow, and sunk him in a 
 ship by way of experiment. Neither 
 ship nor man reappeared. " Another 
 man and ship are to be tried for their 
 lives," adds Walpole, who is our aii- 
 thority for this story, "instead of 
 Blake, the assassin." 
 
 EARLY GUILDHALL DINNER. 
 
 The earliest account of a Lord 
 Mayor's dinner in Guildhall, is that by 
 Pepys : "29th Oct. 1 663. To Guildhall, 
 and up and down to see the tables ; 
 where under every valt there was a bill 
 of fare, and at the end of the table, the 
 persons proper for the table. Many 
 were the tables, but none in the Hall 
 but the Mayor's and the Lords of the 
 Privy Council that had napkins or 
 knives, which was very strange. I 
 sat at the Merchant Strangers' table, 
 where ten good dishes to a messe, 
 with plenty of wine of all sorts; but 
 it was very unpleasing that we had 
 no napkins nor change of trenchers, 
 and drunk out of earthen, pitchers 
 and wooden dishes." 
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE AND ERASMUS 
 AT THE LORD MAYOR's TABLE. 
 
 When Erasmus came to England 
 for the first time, it was contrived by 
 
18 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 the person who conducted him over, 
 Hiat he and More should meet, with- 
 out eitlier of them knowing it, at the 
 Lord Mayor's table, which was then 
 open to literunj men of every nation. A 
 controversy happening to arise at din- 
 ner, Erasmus, according to a practice 
 in those days, began to display his 
 powers by defending the wrong side 
 of the question. He was immediately 
 opposed by More, and a brilliant dis- 
 play of v.'it and argument ensued 
 between these antagonists. Erasmus, 
 surprised to find himself so equally 
 matched, a circumstance which, per- 
 haps, had never occurred to him before, 
 at length exclaimed with vehemence, 
 ■' Aut tu Morus es, ant nuUus !" to 
 which More, equally surprised, re- 
 plied "Aut tu es Erasmus, aut Dia- 
 bolus !" This memorable meeting, 
 from which sprung one of the most 
 interesting friendships in literary 
 history, happened in 1497, in the 
 mayoralty of William Purchase. 
 
 THE COCK TAVESN, FLEET-STEEET. 
 
 One of the oldest licensed houses in 
 London is the Cock Tavern, facing 
 Middle Temple Gate in Elect-street. 
 When the Plague was raging in 1665, 
 the master shut up his house, and re- 
 tired into the country ; there is pre- 
 served one of the farthings referred 
 to in this advertisement : " This is to 
 certify that the master of the Cock 
 and Bottle, commonly called the Cock 
 Alehouse, at Temple Bar, hath dis- 
 missed his servants, and shut up his 
 house, for this long vacation, intend- 
 ing (God willing,) to return at 
 Michaelmas next, so that all persons 
 whatsoever who may have any ac- 
 counts with the said master, m far- 
 things belonging to the mid house, are 
 desired to repair thither before the 8th 
 of this instant July, and they shall 
 receive satisfaction." — The Intelli- 
 gencer for 1665. 
 
 Three years later, we find Pepys 
 frequenting this tavern: " 23rd April, 
 
 1668. Thence by water to the Tem- 
 ple, and there to the Cock Alehouse, 
 and drank, and eat a lobster,- and 
 sang, and mightily merry. So almost 
 night, I carried Mrs. ]?earce home, 
 and then Knipp and I to the Temple 
 arain, and took boat, it being now 
 night." 
 
 The old chimney-piece is of the 
 period of James I., and has some 
 carving ; formerly there was a settle 
 and a large wooden clock. The sign 
 is a boldly carved figure of a cock, 
 gilt. Alfred Tennyson, (now poet 
 laureate,) has sung the praises of 
 "William, many years the excellent 
 head-waiter at the Cock Tavern — now 
 deceased. 
 
 AN OLD TAVEEN IN NEW GATE - 
 STKEET. 
 
 The Salutation Tavern still exists. 
 The proper sign is the Salutation and 
 Cat, — a curious combination ; but one 
 which is explained by a lithograph, 
 which once hung in the coffee-room, 
 and was presented to the late pro- 
 prietor by one of the Aokermanns. 
 An aged dandy is saluting a friend 
 whom he has met in the street, and 
 offering him a pinch out of the snuff- 
 box which forms the top of his wood- 
 like cane. This box-knob was, it ap- 
 pears, called a " cat," — hence the 
 connection of terms apparently so 
 foreign to each other. Some, not 
 aware of this explanation, have ac- 
 counted for the sign by supposing a 
 tavern called The Cat was at some 
 time pulled down, and its trade carried 
 to the Salutation, which thencefor- 
 ward joined the sign to its own; but 
 this is improbable, seeing that we 
 have never heard of any tavern called 
 the Cat, although we do know of 
 the Barking Dogs as a sign. Neither 
 does the Salutation take its name from 
 any Scriptural or sacred source, as the 
 "Angel and Trumpets," &c. The late 
 landlord preserved a tradition of the 
 house to the effect that Sir Chris- 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 19 
 
 topher Wren used to smoke his pipe 
 tliere whilst St. Paul's was in course 
 of rebuilding. More positive evi- 
 dence had he to show of the " little 
 smoky room at the Salutation and 
 Cat,"* where Coleridge and Charles 
 Lamb sat smoking Oronoko and 
 drinking egg-hot ;f the first discours- 
 ing of his idol, Bowles.J and the 
 oilier rejoicing mildly in Cowper and 
 Burns, or both dreaming of " Panti- 
 socracy, and golden days to come on 
 earth." § — From yotes and Queries. 
 
 HOBACE WALPOLE AT TATTXHALL 
 GAKDEXS. 
 
 TTalpole, in a letter, June 23, 1750, 
 ■writes : " I had a card from Lady 
 Petersham to go with her to Vaux- 
 hall. I went accordingly to her 
 house, and found her and the little 
 Ashe, or the PoUard Ashe, as they 
 call her ; they had just finished their 
 last layer of red, and looked as hand- 
 some as crimson could make them. . . 
 . . . We marched to our barge with a 
 boat of French horns attending, and 
 little Ashe singing. We paraded 
 sometime up the river, and at last de- 
 barked at Vauxhall Here we 
 
 picked up Lord Granby, arrived very 
 
 dnmk from Jenny Whim's At 
 
 last we assembled in our booth. Lady 
 Caroline in the front with the vizor of 
 her hat erect, and looking gloriously 
 jolly and handsome. She had fetched 
 my brother Orford from tlie next box, 
 where he was enjoying himself with 
 \\\i peiiie partie, to help us to mince 
 chickens. We minced seven chickens 
 into a china dish, which Lady Caro- 
 line stewed over a lamp with three 
 pats of batter and a flagon of water, 
 stirring, and rattling, and laughing, 
 and we every minute expecting the 
 
 * lamb to Coleridge, Talfourd's Life 
 and Letters ofLamh, vol. i., pp. 14, 15. 
 
 f Same to Same, Ibid., pp. 41 — 43. 
 
 j Same to Same, Ibid., pp. 64. 
 
 5 Elia to Southey, London Magazine, 
 October, 1823. 
 
 dish to fly about our ears. She had 
 brought Betty, the fruit-girl, with 
 hampers of strawberries and cherries 
 from Rogers's, and made her wait 
 upon us, and then made her sup by 
 
 us at a little table In short, the 
 
 whole air of our party was sufiioient, 
 as you will easily imagine, to take up 
 the whole attention of the Gardens ; 
 so much so, that from 11 o'clock till 
 half after 1, we had the whole con- 
 course round our booth ; at last, they 
 came into the little garden -of each 
 booth on the side of ours, till Harry 
 Vane took up a bumper and drank 
 their healths, and was proceeding to 
 treat them with still greater free- 
 doms. It was 3 o'clock before we 
 got home." 
 
 A night's festivity. 
 Sir John Hawkins, in his Life of Dr. 
 Johnson, has described a literary cele- 
 bration, which, to the readers of the 
 present day, must be acceptable from 
 its very simplicity. Sir John tells us : 
 " One evening, at the [Ivy-lane] Club, 
 Dr. Johnson proposed to us cele- 
 brating the birth of Mrs. Lennox's 
 first literary child, as he called her 
 book, by a whole night spent in fes- 
 tivity. The place pppointed vras the 
 Devil Tavern ; and there, about the 
 hour of eight, Mrs. Lennox, and her 
 husband, and a lady of her acquaint- 
 ance now living [1785], as also the 
 Club and friends, to the number of 
 near 20, assembled. Our supper was 
 elegant, and Johnson had directed 
 that a magnificent hot apple-pye 
 should make a part of it, and this he 
 would have stuck with bay-leaves, 
 because, forsooth, Mrs. Lennox was 
 an authoress, and had written verses; 
 and further, he had prepared for her 
 a crown of laurel, with which, but 
 not until he had invoked the Muses 
 by some ceremonies of his own inven- 
 tion, he encircled her brows. The 
 night passed, as must be imamned, in 
 pleasant conversation and harmless 
 c2 
 
20 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 mirfli, intermingled, at different pe- 
 riods, with the refreshments of colfee 
 and tea. About five, Johnson's I'aoe 
 shone with meridian splendour, though 
 his drink had been only lemonade ; 
 but the far greater part of us had 
 deserted the colours of Bacchus, and 
 ■were with difficulty rallied to partake 
 of a second refreshment of coffee, 
 which was scarcely ended when tiie 
 day began to dawn. This phenomenon 
 began to put us in mind of our reckon- 
 ing ; but the waiters were all so over- 
 come with sleep, that it was twa 
 hours before we could get a bill, and 
 it was not till near eight that the 
 creaking of the street-door gave the 
 signal for our departure." 
 
 poeson's dbinking. 
 
 Person, the Greek scholar and clas- 
 sical wit, was extremely convivial ; 
 but Jie never drank alone. He lived 
 in times much more lax than the pre- 
 sent ; yet, his excesses, even in an age 
 of hard-drinking, were frightful. Dr. 
 Parr and Home Tooko were not ad- 
 dicted to thin potations. The Prince 
 Regent was an excellent toss-pot. 
 Sheridan bore his blushing honours 
 upon his face. John Kemble drank 
 claret from sunset to sunrise. " Sel- 
 dom," says Sydney Smith, " did gen- 
 tlemen in the last century come sober 
 into the drawing-room." A three- 
 bottle man at this moment is almost 
 a prodigy. Porson, however, was 
 scarcely more ahead of his contempo- 
 raries in Greek than he was in drink- 
 ing. He had an almost superhuman 
 power of doing without sleep. To be 
 requested to take his hat, and go to 
 his lodgings at two in the morning, 
 was resented by him as inhospitable 
 treatment. He could drink anything 
 — ink, it was said. He once drank 
 an embrocation. Here is another in- 
 stance of this omnivorous drinking. 
 
 When his friend, Hoppner, the 
 painter, was residing in a cottage a 
 few miles from Lonilon, Porson, one 
 
 afternoon, unexpectedly arrived there. 
 Hoppner said he could not offer him 
 dinner, as Mrs. Hoppner had gone to 
 town, and had carried with her the 
 key of the closet wliieh contained the 
 wine. Porson, however, declared that 
 he would be contented with a mutton- 
 chop and beer from the next alehouse; 
 and, accordingly, stayed to dine. 
 During the evenmg, Porson said, " I 
 am quite certain that Mrs. Hoppner 
 keeps some nice bottle for her private 
 diiuking, in her own bed-room ; so, 
 pray try if you can lay your hands on 
 it," His host assured him that Mrs. 
 Hoppner had no such stores ; but 
 Porson, insisting that a search should 
 be made, a bottle was at last dis- 
 covered in the lady's apartment, to 
 the surprise of Hoppner, and the joy 
 of Porson, who soon finished its eon- 
 tent,s, pronouncing it to be the best 
 gin he had tasted for a long time. 
 Next day, Hoppner, somewhat out of 
 temper, informed his wife that Porson 
 had drunk every drop of her concealed 
 dram. " Drunk every drop of it !" 
 cried she. " My God I it was sj)irit of 
 wine for the lamp !" 
 
 Early in life, Porson accepted the 
 situation of tutor to a younggentleman 
 in the Isle of Wight, but he was soon 
 forced to relinquish that ofiiee, having 
 been found drunk in a ditch or turnip- 
 field. When in company, he would 
 not scruple to return to the dining- 
 room, after the guests had left it, pour 
 into a tumbler the drops remaining in 
 the wine-glasses, and drink off the 
 omnium gatherum. If he left the house 
 soon after 12 o'clock, he would in- 
 dignantly call it being " turned out of 
 doors like a dog I" When living iu 
 the Middle Temple, he often came 
 home dead-drunk, sometimes falling 
 on the floor, to the disturbance of his 
 neighbours ; putting out the candle 
 in his fall, then staggering down- 
 stairs to relight it, and dodging and 
 poking about the lantern, and cursing 
 " the nature of things." 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 21 
 
 CAPTAIN MORllIS S SOKGS. 
 
 In one of the recessed portions of 
 Evans's great music room, in Covent- 
 garden, in tl\e collection of portraits 
 of tlieatrical and musical celebrities, 
 assembled by the judgment and tastebf 
 ifc. John Green, the prosperous lessee 
 of the premises, hangs a portrait of 
 Charles Morris, the Anacreontic bard 
 of the Beefsteak Club. The picture 
 is indifferently painted, but the like- 
 ness is good, and it is most appropri- 
 ately located, for Morris was one of 
 the Covent-garden roysterers of the 
 last century. 
 
 " Alas ! poor Yorick ! we knew him 
 well." We remember his " old buff 
 waistcoat," his courteous manner, and 
 his gentlemanly pleasantry, long after 
 this Nestor of Song had retired to 
 enjoy rural quiet, despite the prayer 
 of his racy verse : 
 
 In town let me live, in town let me d.'e ; 
 For in truth I can't relisli the country, 
 
 not I. 
 If one must have a villa in summer to dwell. 
 Oh ! give me the sweet shady side of Pall 
 
 MaU. 
 
 Charles Morris was born in 1745, 
 and appears to have inherited a taste 
 for lyric composition ; for his father 
 composed the popular song .of Kilty 
 Crowder. For half a century. Cap- 
 tain Morris, of the Guards, moved in 
 the first circles of rank and gaiety ; 
 he was the "Sun of the Table" at 
 CarltonPalace, as well as at Norfolk 
 House ; and attaching himself politi- 
 cally, as well as convivially, to his 
 table companions, he composed the 
 celebrated ballads of "Billy's too 
 young to drive us," and " Billy Pitt 
 and the Earmer," long the best satires 
 upon the ascendant politics of the 
 day. His humorous ridicule of the 
 Tories was, however, but ill repaid by 
 the Whigs on their accession to office; 
 at least if we may trust Morris's ode, 
 "The old Whig Poet to his old Buff 
 Waistcoat ;" it bears date, G. K.., 
 Aug. 1, 1815; the MS. was left 
 
 among the papers of Alexander Ste- 
 phens. Morris's "Songs, Political 
 and Convivial," became very popular, 
 exceeding twenty-four editions ; one 
 of the songs is " sung by the Prince 
 of Wales to a certain lady," and is a 
 parody on " There's a difference be- 
 tween a Beggar and a Queen." 
 
 Morris's finest Anacreontic is the 
 song Ad Pocnlum, for which he re- 
 ceived the gold cup of the Harmonic 
 Society, commencing : 
 
 To Mt CtTP. 
 Come, thou soul-reviving cup ! 
 
 Try thy healing art ; 
 Stir the fancy's visions up. 
 
 And warm my wasted heart. 
 Touch with freshening tints of bliss 
 
 Memory's fading dream ; 
 Give me, while thy lip I kiss. 
 
 The heaven that's in thy stream. 
 * * * * 
 
 Then, rosy god, this night let me 
 
 Thy cheering magic sbare; 
 Again let hope-fed fancy see 
 
 Life's picture bright and fair. 
 Oh ! steal from care my heart away. 
 
 To sip thy healing spring ; 
 And let me taste that bliss to-day 
 
 To-morrow may not bring. 
 
 In 1831, Morris bade adieu to the 
 Beefsteak Club, of which he had long 
 been the laureate ; but, in 1835, he 
 revisited the club, and was presented 
 by them v^ith a large and elegant 
 silver bowl, .as a testimony of their 
 affectionate esteem : when the vene- 
 rable bard thus addressed the brother- 
 hood: 
 
 Well, I'm come, my dear friends, your 
 
 kind wish to obey. 
 And drive, by light mirth, all life's shadows 
 
 away. 
 To turn the heart's sighs to the throbbings 
 
 of joy. 
 And a grave aged man to a merry old 
 
 boy. 
 'Tis a bold transformation, a daring de- 
 sign, ; 
 But not past the power of Friendship and 
 
 "Wine ; 
 And I trust that e'en yet this warm mix- 
 
 tm'e will raise 
 A brisk spark of light o'er the shade of 
 
 my days. 
 
22 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 Again he sings : 
 When my spirits are low, for relief and 
 
 delisjlit, 
 I still place your splendid Memorial in 
 
 eight ; 
 And call to my Muse, when Care strives 
 
 to pursue, 
 "Bring the Steaks to my Memory, and the 
 
 Bowl to my view." 
 When brought, — at its sight all the blue 
 
 devils fly, 
 And a world of gay visions rise bright to 
 
 my eye : 
 Cold Fear shuns the Cup where warm 
 
 Memory flows ; 
 And Grief, shamed by Joy, hides his 
 
 budget of Woes. 
 'Tis a pui'e holy fount, where for ever I 
 
 find 
 A sure double charm for the Body and 
 
 Mind; 
 For I feel, while I'm cheer'd by the drop 
 
 that I lift, 
 I'm blest by the Motive that hallows the 
 
 Gift. 
 
 The Captain's earlier songs convi- 
 vial are rich in humour and fancy, of 
 too much -warmth for reproduction; 
 this being comparatively quiet : 
 Who'd be grave when wine can save 
 
 The heaviest soul from sinking ; 
 And magic grapes give angel shapes 
 To every ghl we're drinking. 
 
 Morris's songs were reprinted in 
 1840, under the title of Lj/ra TJrba- 
 nica, now a scarce book. The old 
 bard closed his days in Brockham 
 Court Lodge, near the foot of Box- 
 hill — said to have been presented to 
 him by Charles, Duke of Norfolk. 
 Here the Captain " drank the pure 
 pleasures of tlie rural life," long after 
 many a bright light of his own time 
 had flickered out, and become almost 
 forgotten. He died, July 11, 1838, 
 in his 93 rd year, after four days' in- 
 ternal inflammation. He is buried in 
 the churchyard of Betchworth ; his 
 grave being marked by a stone, in- 
 scribed with a few lines. 
 
 A EOTAL SPEECH BY CANDLELIGHT. 
 
 The openins-day of the Session of 
 Parliament in 1S3G (February 4), was 
 
 unusually gloomy, which, added to an 
 imperfection in the sigiit of Ring 
 William IV., and the darkness of the 
 House, rendered it impossible for his 
 Majesty to read the Royal Speech 
 with facility. Most patiently and 
 good-naturedly did he str\tggle with 
 the task, often hesitating, sometimes 
 mistaking, and at others correcting 
 himself. On one occasion, he stuck 
 altogether, and after two or three 
 ineffectual efforts to make out the 
 word, he was obliged to give it up ; 
 when, turning to Lord Melbourne, 
 who stood on his right hand, and 
 looking him most significantly in the 
 face, he said in a tone sufficiently loud 
 to be audible in all parts of the House, 
 "Eh! what is it?" Lord Melbourne 
 having whispered the obstructing 
 word, the King proceeded to toil 
 through the speech ; but by the time 
 he got to about the middle, the libra- 
 rian brought him two wax-lights, on 
 which he suddenly paused ; then rais- 
 ing his head, and looking at the Lords 
 and Commons, he addressed them, on 
 the spur of the moment, in a perfectly 
 distinct voice, and without the least 
 embarrassment or the mistake of a 
 single word, in these terms : 
 
 " My Lords and Gentlemen, — 
 " I have hitherto not been able, 
 from want of light, to read this speech 
 in the way its importance deserves ; 
 but as lights are now brought me, I 
 will read it again from thu commence- 
 ment, and in a way which, I trust, 
 will command your attention." 
 
 The King then again, though evi- 
 dently fatigued by the difficulty of 
 reading in tlie first instance, began at 
 the beginning, and read through the 
 speech in a manner which would have 
 done credit to any professor of elocu- 
 tion. 
 
 MINISTERIAL EISH DINNEK. 
 
 The close of the Parliamentary Ses- 
 sion is indicated, every year, by the 
 announcement of what is called " the 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 23 
 
 Ministerial Tish Dinner,'' in which 
 Whitebait forms a prominent dish, and 
 Cabinet Ministers are the company. 
 The dinner takes place at a principal 
 tavern, usually at Greenwich, but 
 sometimes at Blaokwall. Formerly 
 the Ministers went down the river in 
 one of the Ordnance barges ; now in 
 a Government steamer. The origin of 
 this annual festivity was thus told, in 
 a communication to the Times journal, 
 in 1861: 
 
 "Some of your readers have no 
 doubt heard of Dagenham Reach, in 
 Essex, a hike formed by the sudden 
 irruption of the waters of the Thames 
 over its banks nearly a century ago, 
 covering the adjacent lands, from 
 which they have never retired. On 
 the banks of Dagenham Lake once 
 stood, and, for aught I know, may 
 still stand, a cottage occupied by a 
 princely merchant named Preston, a 
 baronet of Scotland and Nova Scotia, 
 and some time M.P. for Dover. He 
 called it his 'fishing cottage,' and 
 often in the spring went thither with 
 a friend or two to escape the toils of 
 parliamentary and mercantile duties. 
 His most frequent guest was, as he 
 was familiarly styled, Old George 
 Rose, Secretary of the Treasury, and 
 an Elder Brother of the Trinity House. 
 Sir Robert also was an active member 
 of that fraternity. Many a joyous 
 day did these two worthies pass at 
 Dagenham Reach, undisturbed by the 
 storms that raged in the political at- 
 mosphere of Whitehall and St. Ste- 
 phen's Chapel. Mr. Rose once inti- 
 mated to Sir Robert that Mr. Pitt, of 
 whose friendship they were both justly 
 proud, would, no doubt, much delight 
 in the comfort of such a retreat. A 
 day was named, and the Premier was 
 accordingly invited, and received with 
 great cordiahty at the ' fishing cot- 
 tage.' He was so well pleased with 
 his visit and the hospitality of the 
 baronet — they were all considered 
 two, if not three-bottle men — that on 
 
 taking leave Mr. Pitt readily accepted 
 an invitation for the following year, 
 Sir Robert engaging to remind him at 
 the proper time. For a few years 
 Mr. Pitt was an annual visitor at Da- 
 genham Reach, and he was always 
 accompanied by Old George Rose. 
 But the distance was great, railways 
 had not yet started into existence, and 
 the going and coming were somewhat 
 inconvenient for the First Minister of 
 the Crown. Sir Robert, however, had 
 his remedy, as have all such jovial 
 souls, and he proposed that they 
 should in fnture dine nearer London. 
 Greenwich was suggested as a con- 
 venient salle a manger for the three 
 ancients of the Trinity House — for 
 Pitt was also a distinguished member 
 of that august fraternity. The party 
 was now changed from a trio to a 
 quartet, Mr. Pitt having requested to 
 be permitted to bring Lord Camden. 
 Soon after this migration a fifth guest 
 was invited, Mr. Long, afterwards 
 Lord Farnborough. All still were 
 the guests of Sir Robert Preston; 
 but, one by one, other notables were 
 invited (all of the Tory scliool), and 
 at last Lord Camden considerately 
 remarked that, as they were aU dining 
 at a tavern, it was only fair that Sir 
 Robert Preston should be released 
 from the expense. It was then ar- 
 ranged that the dinner should be given 
 as usual by Sir Robert Preston, that 
 is to say, at his invitation, and he 
 insisted on still contributing a buck 
 and champagne ; but the rest of the 
 charges of mine host were thence- 
 forward defrayed by the several guests, 
 and on this plan the meetings con- 
 tinued to take place annually till the 
 death of Mr. Pitt. Sir Robert was 
 requested in the following year to 
 summon the several guests, the list of 
 whom by this time included most of 
 the Cabinet Ministers. The time for 
 meeting was usually after Trinity 
 Monday, a short period before the end 
 of the Session. By degrees a meet-- 
 
24 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 ing, vhich was originally purely gas- 
 h'ononiie, appears to have assumed, 
 in consequence of the long reign of 
 the Tories, a political or semi-political 
 character. In the year 18— Sir Robert 
 Preston died, but the affairs had be- 
 come so consolidated by long custom, 
 that the ' fish dinner/ as it was now 
 called, survived; and Mr Long (I be- 
 lieve he was then Lord Farnborough) 
 undertook to summon the several 
 guests to the ' Ministerial fish din- 
 ner,' the private secretary of the late 
 Sir Robert Preston furnishing to the 
 private secretary of Lord Farnborough 
 the names of the noblemen and gen- 
 tlemen who had been usually invited. 
 Up to the decease of the baronet the 
 invitations had been sent privately. 
 I have heard that they now go in 
 Cabinet boxes, and the party was cer- 
 tainly limited to the members of the 
 Cabinet for some time. No doubt, 
 eating and drinking are good for di- 
 gestion, and a good digestion makes 
 men calm and clear-headed, and calm- 
 ness and a clear head promote logical 
 reasoning, and logical reasoning aids 
 the counsels of the nation, and reipub- 
 lic/B consilio the nation goes on to 
 glory. So I suppose, in one way or 
 another, the ' Ministerial Whitebait 
 Dinner' conduces to the grandeur 
 and prosperity of our beloved country." 
 
 PEESEVEKANCE. 
 
 One hot Sunday afternoon, at Not- 
 ting Hill, some tliirsty souls panted 
 for cooling streams of sherry cobbler ; 
 it was soon concocted — but where 
 could the straws be obtained ? Now 
 there chanced to be in the establish- 
 ment a 'cute lad, wlio never returned 
 without the object of his errand ; he 
 was forthwitli dispatched to a straw- 
 bonnet maker's, with an injunction 
 not to return without a bundle of 
 straws. The good shopkeeper and 
 his wife were not at home ; the lad 
 did not state his business to the ser- 
 vant, but having learned from her 
 
 that master and missis were at Bar; 
 bury Chapel, thither the lad sped - 
 the dealers being telegraphed out of 
 the cliapel, the boy told his want, and 
 returned in triumph, with his bundle 
 of straws ! We should like a cast of 
 this boy's head; he must be a genius! 
 
 ADBISON AND SHERIDAN. 
 
 Addison used often to walk from 
 Holland House to the White Horse, 
 Kensington, to enjoy his favourite 
 dish, a fillet of veal, his bottle, and 
 perhaps a friend. There is a story 
 that the profligate Duke of Wharton 
 plied him one day at table so briskly 
 with wine, in order to make him talk, 
 that he could not keep it on his sto- 
 mach ; which made his grace observe, 
 that " he could get wine, but not wit 
 out of him." The White Horse was 
 at the corner of "Lord Holland's 
 Lane" (no longer a thoroughfare), 
 on the site of the present Holland- 
 Arms Inn. Nearly opposite Holland 
 House, in the Kensington-road, is the 
 Adam. and Eve public-house, where 
 Sheridan, on his way to or from Hol- 
 land House, regularly stopped for a 
 dram ; and there he ran up a long 
 bill which Lord Holland had to pay. 
 
 THE RULING PASSION. 
 
 When M. Brillat-Savarin, judge of 
 the Court of Cassation, and an ama- 
 teur gastronomer, was in America, 
 once, on his return from a shooting 
 excursion, in which he shot a wild 
 turkey, he fell into conversation with 
 Jefferson, who began relating some 
 interesting anecdotes about Washing- 
 ton and the war ; when, observing the 
 air distrait of M. Brillat-Savarin, he 
 stopped, and was about to go away : 
 "My dear sir," said the gastronomer, 
 " I beg a thousand pardons, but I was 
 thinking how I sliould dress my wild 
 turkey." 
 
 LORD GRANGE AND HIS LADY. 
 
 Lord Grange, tlie Scottish judge, 
 who was equally zealous in driuk and 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 25 
 
 in prayer, led in other respects a very 
 odd sort of life. He had been bullied 
 into marrying Lady Grange. It ap- 
 pears that this couple had been a little 
 too intimate before marriage, and that 
 as he tried to evade the performance 
 of his promise to marry the lady, she, 
 by threatening his lil'e, obtaiaed the 
 fulfilment of it. A union thus auspi- 
 ciously begun was maintained with 
 equal spirit on either side. My lord 
 betrayed a partiality for Fanny Lind- 
 say, the fair young Scot, who kept a 
 coffeehouse at the Dottom of the Hay- 
 market in London ; and my lady be- 
 came outrageous in her wrath, slept 
 with lethal weapons under her pillow, 
 and imperilled the life of her unhappy 
 husband. Grange exhibited a razor 
 which he found under his wife's pil- 
 low. It is to be feared that the lady 
 had other causes of discontent than 
 Fanny Lindsay, for mention is made 
 of a retreat which Lord Grange pos- 
 sessed, and into which he was supposed 
 to retire for purposes of prayer and 
 meditation whenever his wife began 
 to storm. Her clamours and her re- 
 liance on razors at last became so 
 violent that Grange one day seized 
 her in his house in Edinburgh, by 
 main force carried her off to the High- 
 lands, and deposited her far out in the 
 Atlantic on the desolate island of St. 
 KUda, where she had to lead the life 
 of a savage for the remainder of her 
 days. Having thus disposed of the 
 termagant, old Grange was henceforth 
 
 at liberty to pass his days and his 
 nights as he pleased. Dr. Garlyle, in 
 his Memoirs, gives an account of an 
 afternoon whioli he spent in his com- 
 pany and in that of Lord Lovat, at a 
 tavern kept by a certain dame known 
 as Lucky Vint. Mrs. Vint, or Lucky 
 Vint, had a daughter, Kate Vint, who 
 was the great attraction of the house, 
 and who was the happy parent of 
 several illegitimate children. To the 
 abode of Lucky Vint and her sweet 
 daughter Kate, Grange and Lovat, 
 both old men of more than 70 years, 
 adjourned with young Garlyle and a 
 few more to refresh themselves with 
 dinner and other sources of enjoyment, 
 not forgetting a piper, who was to 
 comfort them with music. Freely the 
 wine flowed until the old gentlemen 
 of three-score-and-ten grew frisky and 
 would dance with the landlady's daugh- 
 ter. Poor Kate loved younger cus- 
 tomers, and did not dance long with 
 them. "Observing Lovat's legs, as 
 thick as posts, she fell a laughing and 
 ran off. She missed her second course 
 of kisses, as was then the fashion of 
 the country, though she had endured 
 the first." These worthy gentlemen, 
 disappointed of Kate, went to another 
 house, where they had tea, intermix- 
 ing the tea with kisses of the land- 
 lady's niece, and they finished off the 
 day by retiring to Grange's retreat, 
 where they had fruit, biscuits, and a 
 new deluge of claret. — From the Times 
 journal. 
 
 Oddities and Eccentricities. 
 
 EDWARDS, THE ENGIUEEK. 
 
 [The following amusing scene is 
 from Mr. Albert Smith's popular en- 
 tertainment, given by him at the 
 Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly, in 1858; 
 it is a strange but ludicrous picture 
 
 of that confusion of narrative which 
 some clever persons would term "un- 
 developed impressions." With this 
 Hght artillery of ridicule, Albert Smith 
 was wont to set his audience in a 
 roar ; and by this and kindred mirth- 
 
26 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 ful means, he did more to laugh people 
 out of their follies than could be ef- 
 fected by graver chastisement of 
 "offending Adam." Yet, Albert 
 Smith's lecture had not in it a spice 
 of ill-nature : he would rattle away a 
 whole evening without giving offence 
 to any reasonable listener. Peace to 
 his mane.i.] 
 
 On leaving the beautiful blue grotto 
 of Capri, which Mr. Beverley has 
 just shown you, I missed the little 
 steamer back to Naples, so I got an- 
 other little boat that sailed to Sor- 
 rento. There was no one on board 
 that I could ask a question of, except 
 a little boy, and he said, " Tlie engi- 
 neer is below." " Well, go and fetch 
 him up," I said. So he went down 
 and he brought up my old friend, 
 Edwards, the engineer of the Austrian 
 Lloyd's Company. " Oh, Edwards," 
 I said, " is that you ? Are you all 
 right?" "Well, Mr. Smitli," he 
 said, "I wish it was all right, and 
 right it would have been but for par- 
 ties t/ou know as well as I do. But 
 it's very warm up here ; you had 
 better come below into the engine- 
 room. I have got some export 
 AUsopp below, and you'll find it nice 
 and cool down there." The day was 
 intensely hot ; there was no air stir- 
 ring ill the Bay of Naples, no shade 
 anywhere ; so we went down, and the 
 man was right. He had got his old 
 water-pipe, I never saw him witliout 
 it; and we had the beer, and very 
 good it was. " What do you think of 
 that beer, Mr. Smith?" he said. 
 "WeU," I said, "it's very good." 
 "Ah," he said, "it's better than the 
 Naples beer, is it not ? We have had 
 some Naples beer here up to the last 
 three weeks ago, and the last time 
 the man brought it I said to him, 
 ' Old fellow' — those was my words — 
 ' your beer wants another hop in it.' 
 He did not understand a word what I 
 said, because he talked such gib- 
 berish, — he's a regular idiot of a 
 
 man." "Well," I said, "how have 
 you been getting on, Edwards, since I 
 met you last year ? Have you been 
 getting on well?" "Well, Mr. 
 Smith, perhaps I have, and perhaps I 
 haon't, is what I should say to a 
 stranger ; but to tell you the truth, if 
 my partner had done the right thing 
 when the time came for him to do it, 
 but he didn't do it at the time he 
 ought to do it, I should have got 
 along; but as I said to him, 'Birds 
 of a feather corrupts good manners.' 
 I told him so before, — the time I was 
 there — not the time I wasn't there, — 
 I found the place warn't no account, 
 and so I told him, because happiness 
 is the best politics. Well, then, what 
 does he do ?" " Edwards," I said, " I 
 think you are a little confused in your 
 story." " Well, sir, as I told you, 
 what does my partner do but he buys 
 a cargo of sulpliur and saltpetre that 
 he gets from Messina, and he goes to 
 England, and starts a firework manu- 
 factory in the Waterloo-bridge-road ; 
 and there he would not let ma smoke 
 my pipe in his workshop, and that's 
 how we broke friends and parted. 
 Well, he had two or three pitclies up 
 with the neighbours, and at last he 
 was blown out of his own house into 
 the second floor opposite ; but he died 
 quite quiet in his bed after all — he 
 went out quite quiet, just like a 
 Catherine wheel off his pin. Well, 
 the Austrian Lloyd's wouldn't do no- 
 thing for him, so I got the fireworks, 
 and I was obliged to sell them." 
 " Well, you got on then, surely. 
 That set you all right." "No, 'it 
 didn't ; for I sold them fireworks 
 to the Surrey Gardens, and up to 
 this day I don't know who's to pay 
 me. Then I was obliged to go in the 
 sulphur and saltpetre works in the 
 Docks. It's very different here to 
 what it is in the Docks. A deal of 
 it comes in bags, but if it comes from 
 Catania it don't come in bags, but 
 bags is the best. Then yo\i put 'em 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 27 
 
 down 80 on a page, double columns, 
 40 on each side, cut off the noughts ; 
 then that's added up at the bottom 
 and carried forward to the next page, 
 and then when you get done, that's 
 carried on two pages over, because 
 that's nothing to do with the other ; 
 that's the bags you understand from 
 the commencement, and then that 
 depends upon how it comes over ; 
 sometimes it comes in thousands, 
 sometimes more and sometimes less, 
 and sometiuies fractional parts, and 
 yery often none at all ; and then you 
 add it all up. But why should l°de- 
 ceive you, Mr. Smith ? I hadn't got 
 the head for it, and them as hasn't 
 got the heads for it sometimes runs 
 away — goes away holloaing round the 
 Docks and is never heard of, which I 
 was only relieved by going to Hamp- 
 ton Court of a Sunday, because in 
 consequence of this they gives me 
 leave to go to Hampton Court, and 
 there I was going up and down, be- 
 cause what goes up must come down. 
 But as to the name of that boat, Mr. 
 Smith, I couldn't tell you what it 
 was, and till you bring it before the 
 proprietors and see what they owe 
 me for more than three years, the 
 affair can't be done ; with your permis- 
 sion, that's how I was a going to put 
 it to you. Let's see, I beg your par- 
 don, what was I a-telling you about 
 last, Mr. Smith ?" " Something about 
 Hampton Court." " Well, Mr. Smith, 
 that was it. I recollect that place 
 now just as well as if I had never 
 been there, which I never have, Mr. 
 Smith; it was Greenwich, or Rich- 
 mond, or somewhere else. Hampton 
 Court is where you go and see the 
 palace as was built by Linsey— Cardinal 
 Linsey — Cardinal Linsey- Wolsey, I 
 mean, — but the name's nothing to 
 do with it. The party you know was 
 there, and he says to me, — I know 
 that young man, Mr. Smith, as well 
 as I know you ; but if you were to 
 pray and beseech me where he was at 
 
 this moment I couldn't tell you if my 
 head was on the block. This was 
 what he says to me when he run away 
 with Mrs. Edwards. No, Mr. Smith, 
 he did not, — that man would no more 
 have done that thing than he would 
 have done nothing at all, which was 
 what he generally did. ' Edtoards,' he 
 says — that was his observation — he 
 says, ' Edwards'— \i^ said it just like 
 that, — ' I did not mean anything one 
 way nor the other,' and I know he 
 didn't ; but he says, ' Edwards, the 
 Austrian Lloyd's has no right to go 
 into the vestry and forbid the banns ; 
 which, Mr. Edwards,' says he, ■' I 
 would tell the Austrian Lloyd's Com- 
 pany face to face.' That woman kept 
 her bed three years; which, what's 
 the use of your limbs as long as 
 you're happy. By the natural laws 
 of the Parliament of England that's 
 the way I got to hear of this, Mr. 
 Smith, and that puts me in the posi- 
 tion as a fellow-countryman ; and as 
 you've always behaved as a gentleman 
 to me, I'd jnst take the liberty of 
 asking you what you wotild do if you 
 were in my place. I wish to do the 
 riglit thiug by you, and if you wish 
 to leave your box you can leave it, 
 and that box would cost you four 
 carlinis in Naples, with a bad lock, 
 and evil communications is the mother 
 of all commandments." 
 
 A PEW BLITNDEBS AlfD BULLS. 
 
 Odd misconceptions have arisen as 
 to certain passages in books. In Don 
 Juan, in his thunder at reviewers. 
 Lord Byron says : 
 
 "I've bribed my grandmother, the Bri- 
 tish'' 
 Now, the British Review was a staid 
 and grave Church journal, and in the 
 next number, the editor solemnly as- 
 sured his readers that he had received 
 no bribe from Lord Byron, nor would 
 he do so, but continue to criticise his 
 lordship's poetry as he thought 
 proper : ever after^ the British bore 
 
28 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 tlie sohriquet of " My Grandmother's 
 lleview." By the way, Bon Juan has 
 given rise to anothci' droll mistake. 
 One day, an old gentleman entered a 
 printseller's shop, and gravely inquired 
 for a portrait of " Admiral Noah," as 
 he had just set about illustrating Bon 
 Juan. Better known are the mis- 
 takes of the Agricultural Society or- 
 dering a copy of Miss Edge worth's 
 Tissay on Irish Bulls ; and the law- 
 bookseller, when asked for the Life of 
 Sir Julius Ccesar, replying that he 
 knew not that work, but he had 
 Caesar's Commeniaries. 
 
 Mr. Brooke, the Irish artist, once 
 drew upon wood the present London 
 Bridge, with six arches : it was duly 
 engraved, and when Brooke was ques- 
 tioned as to his addition of one arch, 
 he coolly replied that it must have 
 been added by the engraver ! 
 
 The original memoirs of Cowper, 
 the poet, were apparently printed from 
 an obscurely written manuscript. Of 
 this there is a whimsical proof, where 
 the Persian Letters of Montesquieu 
 are spoken of, and the compositor, 
 unable to decipher the author's name, 
 has converted it into Mules Quince ! 
 
 A newspaper heads an advertise- 
 ment, " Infernal Remedy. " This 
 may be quite true, but we imagine 
 that " internal remedy" was intended. 
 
 The Eclectic Reoiew was once ad- 
 vertised as the Epileptic Review. 
 
 More drolleries are uttered uninten- 
 tionally than by premeditation : there 
 is no such thing as being droll to 
 order. One evening a lady said to a 
 
 small wit, " Come, Mr. , tell us a 
 
 lively anecdote," and the poor fellow 
 was mute during the remainder of the 
 evening. "Favour me with your 
 ■company on Wednesday evening, you 
 are such a lion," said a weak party- 
 giver to a young author. " I thank 
 vou," replied he ; " but on that even- 
 ing I am engaged to eat fire at the 
 Countess of C — 's, and stand upon my 
 head at Mrs. 's." 
 
 A1SN0Y.\NCE LETTEU. 
 
 The following letter was intended 
 to have been sent to the "Annoyance 
 Jury," by the occupier of the house 
 in the Strand (nearly opposite Norfolk- 
 street) adjoining that in which the 
 so-called " Bonassus" was exhibited 
 many years since : — 
 
 "March 28, 1822. 
 
 "Gentlemen, — I Am sorry to 
 trouble you but I Am so Anoyd By 
 next Door Neighbour the Bonassus 
 and with Beasts, that I cannot live 
 in my House — for the stench of the 
 Beast is So Great And their is only A 
 Slight petition Betwixt the houses 
 and the Beast are continually Break- 
 ing through in to my Different Rooms 
 And I am always loosing my lodgers 
 in Consequence of the Beast first A 
 Monkey made Its way in My Bedroom 
 next the Jackall came in to the Yard 
 and this last week the people in My 
 Second floor have been Alarmed in 
 the Dead of the Night By Monkey 
 Breaking through in to the Closet 
 and are Going to leave in Consequence 
 tliis being the third lodgers I have 
 lost on account of the Beast And I 
 have been letting my Second Ploor 
 at Half the Bent — And those men of 
 Mr. James are Bawling the whole 
 Day Against My Window — and con- 
 tinually taking peoples attention from 
 My Window — And I am quite pes- 
 tered with Rats and J Am Confident 
 they came from the Exebition — And 
 in Short the Ingury and Nuisance is 
 So Great as almost Injpossible to 
 Describe But to be so Anoyd By such 
 an Imposter I think is Very Hard — 
 Gentlemen your Early inquiry will 
 oblige your Servant — T. W. . 
 
 N.B. And if I mention anything to 
 Mr. James He ondly Abuses me with 
 the most Uncouth Language." 
 
 MKS. GAMP IN A EMENDLY SOCIETr. 
 
 In the official correspondence be- 
 tween the Registrar of Friendly 
 Societies and the local officers of 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 29 
 
 those societies the followinfj cariosity 
 finds a place : the signuture is not 
 given: — "Sir, — I would be very much 
 obliged to you if you would send us 
 word wat wee ad beter doo : one our 
 members as been sick and clamed the 
 benefit of our society, and wile he was 
 on the box the stuard went to visit 
 him. He was fading pigs ; the pigs 
 was nat his oun, they belonged to his 
 landlord, at a publick where he lodged 
 at. The stuard seed him caring the 
 wash across the yard, wich contrary 
 to our rules. We referd to the rule 
 26 and 28, wich we caled a comity, 
 and excluded him by our laws in the 
 "usel maner ; wich he as obtained two 
 sumanses for the stuards, wich they 
 atended before the bench of mages- 
 trates, wich they asked him if he did 
 it with intent to earn money, wich he 
 replyed, no, sire ; then the magestrates 
 asked him how long he had been iu 
 the society, and he sayed seven years ; 
 and they reconed it up wat he had 
 paid in the society, and wat he had 
 received out, and they said they must 
 pay him the diference, which was 6 
 pounds, wich the society thinks it a 
 very ilegal thing, wich the man has 
 no trade ; he is a man at any caling, 
 wich is a labourer, wich is a very un- 
 satisfactory thing for us to have the 
 society registered, and the society 
 can't go by the rules ; wich the 26 
 rule saies that if a member be found 
 engaged in any kind of work before 
 he has declared off the box he 
 shall be excluded, wich the mages- 
 trates did not cal feding pigs work, 
 wich there are a great manny mearly 
 kept for nothing els but to fed pigs. 
 The magestrates would not heare but 
 very litle the we ad got to say ; they 
 said we must other pay him four 
 weeks' monny, and take nim into the 
 society again, or give him the diferance, 
 wich I hask you, sir, if the society has 
 to pay the diferance whether she can't 
 stop the doctor monny, wich is three 
 shiDings a yeare, and the expence of 
 
 the club-room, wich is threepence 
 very club night, wich the society 
 would be very much obliged to you if 
 you send us word wat the society had 
 beter doo in it, as soon as you can 
 make it conveient. So heare I remaiu 
 your afectionate " 
 
 THE HAT. — A GAILBKY EPISODE. 
 
 Pat Jennings in the upper gallery sat, 
 TBut, leaning forward, Jennings lost 
 
 his hat. 
 Down from the gallery the beaver flew. 
 And spurn'd the one to settle in the 
 
 two. 
 How shall he act ? Pay at the gal- 
 
 lerydoor 
 Two shillings for what cost, when 
 
 new, but four ? 
 Or till half-price, to save his shilling, 
 
 wait, 
 And gain his hat again at half-past 
 
 eight ? 
 Now, while his fears anticipate a thief, 
 John Mullens whispers, "Take my 
 
 handkerchief." 
 "Thank you," cries Pat; "but one 
 
 won't make a line." 
 "Take mine," cried WUsou; and 
 
 cried Stokes, "Take mine." 
 A motley cable soon Pat Jennings ties. 
 Where Spitalfields with real India vies. 
 Like Iris' bow down darts the painted 
 
 clue, 
 Starr'd, striped, and spotted, yellow, 
 
 red and blue. 
 Old calico, torn silk, and muslin new. 
 George Green below, with palpitating 
 
 hand. 
 Loops the last 'kerchief to the beaver's 
 
 band — 
 Upsoars the prize ! The youth, with 
 
 joy unfeign'd, 
 Eegain'd the felt, and felt what he 
 
 regain 'd : 
 While to the applauding galleries 
 
 grateful Pat 
 Made a low bow, and touch'd the 
 
 ransom'd hat. 
 Imitaiion of George Craihe ; Bejected 
 Addresses, 
 
3J 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 EAELY GAS-LIGIITtNG. 
 
 "Wiusor's patent gas" first illu- 
 mined (Jan. 28, 1807) tlie Carlton- 
 house side of Pall Mall ; the second, 
 Bishopsgate-street. The writer at- 
 tended a lecture given by the inventor; 
 tlie charge of admittance was three 
 shillings, but, as the inventor was 
 about to apply to parliament, members 
 of both houses were admitted gratis. 
 The writer and a fellow-jester assumed 
 the parts of senators at a short notice. 
 "Members of Parliament !" was their 
 important ejaculation at the door of 
 entrance. " What places, gentle- 
 men ?" " Old Saruni and Bridge- 
 water." " Walk in, gentlemen." 
 Lucidly, the real Simon Pures did 
 not attend. This Pall Mall illumi- 
 nation was further noticed in Horace 
 in London : — ■ 
 
 "And Winsor lights, with flame of gaa. 
 Home to King's Place his mother." 
 
 EOCHESTEB A PHYSICIAN. 
 
 When the profligate Earl of Rochester, 
 under thenameof "Alexander Bendo," 
 played the part of a mountebank phy- 
 sician in the City, he took up his 
 lodgings in Tower-street, at a gold- 
 smith's house, wliere he gave out that 
 he was sure of being seen "from 
 three of the clock in the afternoon 
 till eight at night." Burnet tells us 
 that Rochester " being under an un- 
 lucky accident, which obliged him to 
 keep out of the way, he disguised 
 himself so that his nearest friends 
 could not have known him, and set 
 Bp in Tower-street for an Italian 
 mountebank, where he practised phy- 
 sic some weeks not without success." 
 
 MES. OLDrlELD IN HEB COPEIN. 
 
 Mrs. Oldfield, the charming actress, 
 is buried in front of Congreve's monu- 
 ment in Westminster Abbey ; " in a 
 very fine Brussels lace head," says her 
 maid, " a Holland shift, with a tucker, 
 and double ruffles of the same lace ; 
 a pair of new kid gloves, and her body 
 
 wrapped up in a winding-sheet." 
 Hence Pope's satirical allusion : 
 
 Odious ! in woollen ! 'twould a saint pro- 
 voke! 
 
 (Were the last words that poor Narcissa 
 spoke) — 
 
 No, let a charming chintz and Brussels 
 lace 
 
 Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless 
 face ; 
 
 One would not, sure, he frightful when 
 one's dead, 
 
 And, — Betty, give this cheek a little red. 
 
 HEEODOTUS EVERY DAY. 
 
 Few persons are aware how often 
 they imitate the father of history. 
 Thus, children and servants are re- 
 markably " Herodotean" in their style 
 of narration. They tell everything 
 dramatically. Their "says hes" and 
 " says shes" are proverbial. Every 
 person who has had to settle their 
 disputes, knows that, even when they 
 have no intention to deceive, their 
 reports of conversation always require 
 to be carefully sifted. If an educated 
 man were giving an account of a cer- 
 tain change of administration, he would 
 say; "Lord John Russell resigned, 
 and the Queen, in consequence, sent 
 for Sir Robert Peel." A porter would 
 tell the story as if he had been behind 
 the curtains of the Royal bed at 
 Buckingham Palace. " So Lord John 
 Russell says, ' I cannot manage this 
 business, I must go out.' So the 
 Queen says, ' Well, then, I must send 
 for Sir Robert Peel, that's all.' " This 
 is the very manner of the father of 
 history. 
 
 Herodotus has been most unblush- 
 ingly mis-quoted, by great men, too : 
 Denon, the traveller in Egypt, several 
 times quotes Herodotus for what is 
 not in that author. But this is so 
 common even with people who have 
 claims tO) scholarship, that it has be- 
 come almost a fashion to say that 
 anything is in Herodotus. 
 
 The following letter describes, in 
 its own Herodotean way, the visit of 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 31 
 
 the Queen and Prince Albert to a deep 
 mine in Cornwall : 
 
 " I received a letter one evening 
 from Mr. Edmonds, to say as liow 
 that Prince Albert vras coming to our 
 main the next morning. Thinks I, 
 what can the Prence be a coming to 
 our main for ? And I cud'nt slape for 
 the night for thinking what 1 shud 
 say to tlie Prence, and what the Prence 
 cud say to me. Well, in the morning, 
 sure 'nuf, we saw the chay coming, 
 and who should be in it but the 
 Queen, so well as the Prence ! There 
 was a stone wall between, and the 
 men went to it, and it was down in a 
 minute — in less than no time, and 
 they come on, and the Queen got out 
 of the chay, and ran about in the wet 
 grass like a Billy ! Says she to Mr. 
 Taylor — something, but I don't know 
 what — but says he to me, ' Is it safe 
 for the Queen to go into the main!' 
 ' Safe,' says I ; ' Yes, safe as the Rock 
 of Gibraltar !' So the drams were 
 broft footh, and some straw a throw'd 
 into one, and some green baise after 
 it, and the Queen skipt in like a lamb, 
 and I do believe that I touched her ! 
 She didn't like it tho' when 'twas wet ; 
 but when we cum on as far as we cud 
 to the west load, the Prence took the 
 pick, and he throw'd to like — like a 
 man ! and he got a bit a ore. ' This, 
 said he, ' is from the west looad,' so I 
 puts 'en in to my left pocket; and 
 then we went to the east looad, so I 
 puts 'en into my right pocket ; and as 
 they were coming out, says the Queen 
 to Mr. Taylor, says she, ' What's that 
 there blue that I do see ?' ' Bliss ye, 
 ma'am,' says he, ' that's the light o' 
 day.' One hundred and twenty mi- 
 ners were ready to cheer 'em as they 
 drove off (all red, like Injins, from 
 the red ore of the main), and we did 
 cheer, to be sure, as never was before." 
 
 A COCKNETISM. 
 
 A servant in Georgia being asked 
 from what part of England he came, 
 
 replied : " Why, sir, I was born in 
 Covent Garden, hut I have always 
 lived in the Haymai-ket." 
 
 PUNNING EPIGRAM. 
 
 JekyU made the following punning 
 
 epigram upon an old lady being 
 
 brought forward at a trial, by Garrow, 
 
 as a witness to prove a tender made : 
 
 Garrow, forbear ! that tough old jade 
 
 Can never prove a tender maid. 
 
 ILL-TIMED APPLICATION. 
 
 Mr. Crouch relates that the fat 
 Stephen Kemble, who, sleeping at an 
 inn in a country-town, was waked 
 about daybreak by a strange figure, a 
 dwarf, standing by his bed in extra- 
 ordinary attire. Kemble raised him- 
 self up in the bed, and questioned the 
 figure, which said, ' I am a dwarf, as 
 you perceive ; I am come to exhibit 
 at the fair to-morrow, and I have 
 mistaken the bedchamber : I suppose- 
 Tou are a giant come for the same 
 purpose.'' 
 
 PUNNING IN PKENCH AND LATIN. 
 
 Mr. Moore records in his Diary as 
 a specimen of French punning, that 
 the following was among the Poti- 
 erana lately published : — " II a I'esprit 
 seize," i. e,, treize et irois (tres etroit). 
 Mercer (says he) told me of a pun- 
 ster, who had so much the character 
 of never opening his mouth without 
 a pun, that one day, upon his merely 
 asking some one at dinner for a little 
 spinage, the person stared, looked 
 puzzled, and said " Je vous demande 
 pardon, monsieur, mais, pour eettefois, 
 je ne comprend pas." The quickness 
 of the French at punnin" arises (Mr. 
 Moore adds) very much from their 
 being such bad spellers. Not having 
 the fear of orthography before their 
 eyes, they have at least one restraint 
 less upon their fancy in this sort of 
 exercise. 
 
 Moore, dining at Bowles's, his host 
 mentioned that at some celebration at 
 
32 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 Reading scliool, when the patrons or 
 governors of it (beer and brandy mer- 
 chants) were to be welcomed with a 
 Latin address, the boy appointed to 
 tlie task thus bespoke them, " Salvete, 
 hospites seleheerimi," and then turning 
 to the others, " Salvete, hospites cele- 
 brandi." 
 
 Dean Swift excelled in a species of 
 comjiosition consisting of'Latin words, 
 which, allowing for false spelling, and 
 the running the words into each other, 
 contain good sense in English as well 
 as Latin. For example ; — 
 
 Apud in is almi de si re, 
 Mimis tres I ne ver re qui re, 
 Alo Tsri iindit a gestis, 
 His miseri ne ver at restis. 
 
 A pudding is all my desire, 
 !My mistress I never require, 
 A lover I find it a jest is, 
 His misery never at rest is. 
 
 Mollis abuti 
 Has an acuti, 
 !No lasso finis, 
 Omni de armistreflS. 
 Cantu disco ver, 
 Meas alo ver ? 
 
 Moll is a beauty. 
 Has an acute eye, 
 !No lass so fine is, 
 O my dear mistress. 
 Can't you discover. 
 Me as a lover ? 
 
 CAWNIUG AND GEAIIAN. 
 
 Canning said of Grattan's eloquence 
 that, for the last two years, his public 
 exhibitions were a complete failure, 
 and that you saw all the mechanism of 
 his oratory without its life. It was 
 like lifting the flap of a barrel-organ, 
 and seeing the wheels; you saw the 
 skeleton of his sentences without the 
 fesh on them ; and were induced to 
 think that what you had considered 
 flashes, were merely primings kept 
 ready for the occasion. 
 
 ST. DTJNSTAN AND THE DETIl. 
 
 The legend of St. Dunstan is pretty 
 
 generally known. Everybody has. 
 heard that — 
 
 Saynt Dunstan (as the story goes) 
 Caught old SatVanas by yi no^e : 
 H e tu;5ged so hard and made hym roar, 
 That he was heard three miles and more. 
 
 But it is not so generally known, 
 beyond the limits of Sussex, that 
 May field- place was the scene of that 
 temflc encounter. It was there (and 
 not at Glastonbury assome ill-informed 
 chroniclers assert) that the fiend ap- 
 peared to the saint in the guise of a 
 fair lady, and that Dunstan, being at 
 the time engaged in his favourite re- 
 creation of forging a horse-shoe, on 
 perceiving a cloven hoof protruding 
 from the voluminous folds of the in- 
 fernal crinoline, seized the Demon's 
 nose with his red-hot pincers. (The 
 pincers as well as the Saint's anvil 
 and hammer still exist at Mayfield as 
 iiTcfragable evidenceof the statement). 
 On the application of the hot iron, the 
 evil one burst through the roof of the 
 building, Dunstan holding on at the 
 other end of the forceps, with that 
 pertinacity which ever distinguished 
 his conduct. Away they went through 
 the air, with the speed of a rifle bullet, 
 a fuU league of space, until the sul- 
 phurous composition of the nasal 
 organ gave way to the heat of the 
 implement, and the Saint fell to the 
 ground near a bridge, which still bears 
 his name. In order to cool his tongs, 
 Dunstan took a leisurely walk to 
 Tunbridge Wells, into the waters of 
 which he thrust them, and hence the 
 taste of quenched iron which even to 
 this day those waters retain I — M. A. 
 Lower, F.S.A. 
 
 A FALL raOM THE MONUMENT. 
 
 Levy, an insolvent Israelite [18th 
 January, 1810], threw himself from 
 the top of the Monument. An in- 
 habitant of Monument-yard informed 
 the writer that he happened to be 
 standing at his door talking to a 
 neighboiir, aiid looking up at the top 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 33 
 
 of the pillar, exclaimed, " Why, here's 
 the flag coming down 1" " Flag !" 
 answered the other, "it's a man." 
 The words were hardly uttered, when 
 the suicide fell within ten feet of the 
 speakers. 
 
 A cle\t;ii beae. 
 An Italian, named Restorini, who 
 had been buffo eantante to a theatre 
 formerly existing atPera, being driven 
 to his wits' end for means of sup- 
 porting existence, pitched upon an 
 expedient, the success of which pro- 
 mised to be productive of consider- 
 able profit to him at the expense of 
 Turkish credulity. Selim was known 
 to be an amateur of Frank exhibitions, 
 especially of the sort in which music 
 had a prominent share. Restorini 
 found means to inform him that he 
 had just arrived from Italy, having a 
 marvellous bear in his possession, 
 -which played on the pianoforte with 
 superior skiU. The Snltan expressed 
 his wish to hear the performance of 
 1 he wonderful animal ; an instrument 
 was therefore sent to the seraglio, and 
 on the appointed day a boat was sent 
 and took the Italian with his bear to 
 the imperial residence. The animal 
 stood on its hind legs, and played 
 several Turkish airs with a precision 
 and taste which delighted the Sultan, 
 who signified his readiness to purchase 
 it for a liberal price. Poor Restorini 
 had not foreseen the possibility of any 
 proposal of this sort being made to 
 him, and his embarrassment may be 
 easily imagined. He expressed, how- 
 ever, his regret at being unable to 
 comply with the Sultan's desire, and 
 to every increased sum which was 
 offered him, he remained firm in his 
 refusal. The Sultan at last was driven 
 out of patience, and ordered his at- 
 tendants to take possession of the 
 bear, and pay the owner of it a hand- 
 some sum for the compulsory sale of 
 it. In the execution of this command 
 the attendants met, of course, with 
 
 violent resistance from the supposed 
 bear itself, on whose back blows soon 
 fell in such abundance as to tear a 
 part of its skin, through which the 
 flap of a man's coat immediately pro- 
 truded itself. The whole skin, on this 
 discovery, was instantly ripped up, 
 and both the showman and the late bear, 
 •now a man, received such a profusion 
 of blows as sent them to keep their 
 beds for several weeks, and to repent 
 of their impudent imposture, with no 
 other remuneration for their trouble 
 than the consolatory reflection, that 
 their punishment had not been so 
 severe as they might have expected 
 upon detection. 
 
 GASCONADES. 
 
 The inhabitants of the province of 
 Gascony, in Prance, have long been 
 celebrated for their hvely sallies, called 
 Gasconades (in Prench Oasconnades), 
 the point of which consists in immo- 
 derate boasting of wit, wealth, or 
 valour. The Dictionary of the Prench 
 Academy, as an iilustration, gives : 
 He says he would fight ten men. But, 
 wit and piquancy should be intermixed 
 with selt-exaltation, as in the follow- 
 ing : A Gascon, in proof of his nobility, 
 asserted that in his father's castle they 
 used no other firewood but the batons 
 of the different marshals of Prance of 
 his family. 
 
 A Gascon of&cer, hearing some one 
 celebrating the exploits of a prince 
 who, in two assaults upon a town, had 
 killed six men with his own hand: 
 " Bah !" said he, " I would have you 
 to know, that the very mattresses I 
 sleep upon are stuffed with nothing 
 else but the whiskers of those whom 
 I have sent to slumber in the other 
 world." 
 
 Nor must we forget the Gascon 
 general, who, by the lucky grazing of 
 a bullet on the roU of his stocking, 
 took occasion to halt all his life 
 after.— (See Tatter, No. 77.) 
 
 The parvenu who made a sweet fire 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 witli his claret corks 'was a vulgar 
 Gascon. 
 
 ODD ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 What Christianity has done for 
 Britain, it can do for other lands ; and 
 such transformation Dr. Hamilton 
 happily describes in contrasting the 
 state of the savage Fuegians with that 
 of our British forefathers : — " Sir 
 James Mackintosh was born in a 
 northern latitude exactly correspond- 
 ing to Cape Horn in the south, and 
 Ms ancestors lived in a hut without 
 window or chimney, with a fire in the 
 centre of the floor, with a pile of 
 mussel-shells at the threshold, and 
 with smoked fish and deer's flesh 
 hanging from the rafters ; and when 
 they wished to cross an arm of the 
 sea, they waited for a day of calm 
 weather which would not endanger 
 their wicker coracle. The ancestors 
 of Davy and Newton lived in forests 
 almost as sombre as the beeoh-woods 
 of Narborough's Land. They wore 
 cloaks of bull or badger's skin, like 
 the otter or guanaco robes of Navarin 
 Island ; and they anointed their per- 
 sons, and pipeclayed their faces, in a 
 truly Puegian fashion. The ancestors 
 of Wesley and Wilberforce worshipped 
 a devil, and were glad to propitiate 
 his wrath by flinging their infants into 
 the firr. But Christianity has wrought 
 for Britain the best of miracles. If 
 it has not brightened the skies and 
 converted these islands into new Hes- 
 perides, it has shed a balm into the 
 moral atmosphere, and it has trans- 
 formed the population. It has made 
 us, as a people, honest, hard-working, 
 and humane. It has made a future 
 existence a familiar idea, and it has 
 made the Most High a not unfamiliar 
 Presence. It has given us taste, aspi- 
 rations, and affections, which a nation 
 of atheists or pagans can never know. 
 And wliilst all this has been effected 
 with only a small per-centage of prac- 
 tical religionists in our population, 
 
 and, we may add, with only a small 
 per-centage of Bible Christianity in 
 our ])ractical religion, it has done 
 enough to teach us that the only 
 thing needed to make any land ' a 
 delightsome land ' is the gospel in 
 ascendancy." 
 
 HIGH HANK AND GOOD BREEDING. 
 
 When the Methodists brought the 
 doctrine of human depravity promi- 
 nently forward, the then Duchess of 
 Buckingham objected to Lady Hun- 
 tingdon that "It is monstrous to be 
 told you have a heart as sinful as the 
 common wretches that crawl the earth. 
 This is highly offensive and insulting ; 
 and I cannot but wonder that your 
 ladyship should relish any sentiment 
 so much at variance with high rank 
 and good breeding." 
 
 EPITAPH, BY THOMAS MOOKE. 
 
 Here lies John Shaw, 
 Attorney at law ; 
 And when he died 
 The devil cried, 
 " Give us your paw, 
 
 John Shaw, 
 
 Attorney at law." 
 
 GOOD TALKERS. 
 
 Plato and Aristotle did not sit in 
 stately robes, nor were they person- 
 ages always grave and solemn, as 
 commonly pictured. "They were 
 good fellows," says Pascal, "who 
 laughed like others with their friends. 
 Their highest philosophy was to live 
 simply and tranquilly." Shaftesbury 
 has well said, " Gravity is the very 
 essence of imposture." 
 
 Ben Jonson's conversations with 
 Drummond of Hawthomdeu have 
 been preserved ; but how meagre and 
 fragmentary, on the whole, are these 
 specimens of the talk of one who had 
 talked a thousand times with Shak- 
 speare ! 
 
 Prancis miscalled Lord Bacon was 
 an excellent talker, as his chaplain. 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 35 
 
 Eowley, testifies ; adding that he al- 
 lowed others to talk too. In one of 
 his maxims he anticipates La Bruyere. 
 " The honourablest part of talk," he 
 said, "is to give the occasion;" and 
 this he called leading the dance. 
 
 Swift, says Mr. Hannay, went so 
 far as to assert that he had never 
 known a wag who was not a dunce. 
 The " men of wit and pleasure about 
 town," — as they used to be called, 
 though Fielding says the wit had dis- 
 appeared in his time, — and we are 
 inclined to add that the pleasure has 
 followed it in ours, would seem to be 
 instances of this, so utterly drivelling, 
 so void of all serious or sensible appli- 
 cation, is much of our current satirical 
 literature. 
 
 It is a great misfortune not to have 
 mind enough to talk well, nor judg- 
 ment enough to be silent. — La Bm- 
 yere. 
 
 There are persons who speak a 
 moment before they have thought; 
 there are others with whom you have 
 to undergo in conversation all the 
 labour of their minds. . . . They 
 talk correctly and wearisomely. — La 
 Bruyere. 
 
 The reason why few persons are 
 agreeable in conversation is because 
 each thinks more of what he intends 
 to say than of what others are saying, 
 and seldom listens but when he desires 
 to speak. — Rochefoucauld. 
 
 M. de Benserade said of a man who 
 did not talk, "He thinks just as 
 little." 
 
 Garrick, wishing to describe the 
 talk of Adam Smith, said, " What do 
 you think, eh? Flabby, isn't it ?" 
 
 For the social dulness of the majo- 
 rity of men of letters, the author of 
 Coningsby accounts with a fatal plau- 
 sibility, when he tells us that they 
 hoard their best thoughts for their 
 publishers. To this, however, there 
 are striking exceptions, and it may 
 be urged that some of them are shy. 
 Still, taken altogether) the genial 
 
 converse which marked the old tavern 
 life— 
 
 Those lyric feasts 
 
 Made at the Sun, 
 
 The Dog, the triple Tun. — SerricTc. 
 
 the life led in rare Ben's time, tlien 
 in Steele's, afterwards in Boswell's, 
 belongs to tradition and to the past. 
 — Hamwy. 
 
 PKIDE OP BIRTH. 
 
 Though Spain is the most backward 
 country in Europe, she believes her- 
 self to be the foremost. She is proud 
 of everything of which she ought to 
 be ashamed. She is proud of the an- 
 tiquity of her opinions ; proud of her 
 orthodoxy ; proud of the strength of 
 her faith ; proud of her immeasurable 
 and childish credulity; proud of her 
 unwillinguess to amend either her 
 creed or her customs ; proud of her 
 hatred of heretics, and proud of the 
 undying vigilance with which she has 
 bafiled her efforts to .obtain a full and 
 legal establishment on her soU. — 
 Buckle's History of Civilization. 
 
 Liveries, like badges, and knots, and 
 heraldry, were essentially/«ac?a/, what- 
 ever they may be now-a-days, when 
 people put servants into " livery" who 
 only yesterday left off wearing it them- 
 selves. 
 
 The term gentleman signified no- 
 thing, originally, but "man of family," 
 though by the courtesy of England it 
 has come to be applied to all who 
 share the position, manners, and cul- 
 tivation of men of family; and by 
 popular license, confusion of idea, 
 and ignorance of antiquity, to a vast 
 number more. 
 
 "Nobility is virtue of race." — ^By 
 and by there will be a hearing again 
 for this side of affairs in Europe, after 
 the total failure of the revolutionary 
 party to produce governing intellects 
 has had a still wider scope to show 
 itself. 
 
 Peerage. — Queen Elizabeth, though 
 she liked " blood," was chary of her 
 D 2 
 
36 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 honours. She never made above seven 
 peers in all her long reign. She liked 
 men of high blood about her; but if a 
 man was a useful man, she would take 
 him from the dunghill. — Hannay. 
 
 An Odd Duke. — Charles, the sixth 
 ^larquess of Winchester, who, in 1689, 
 was ereated BuJce of BoUok, was, ac- 
 cording to Burnet, a man of strange 
 mixture. He had the spleen to a 
 high degree, and affected aa extrava- 
 gant behaviour; for many weeks he 
 would not open his mouth till such an 
 hour of the day when he thought the 
 air was pure. He changed the day 
 iuto night, and often hunted by torch- 
 light. He was a man of profuse ex- 
 pense, and of a most ravenous appe- 
 tite to support that ; and though he 
 was much hated, yet he carried matters 
 before him with such authority and 
 success, that he was in all respects 
 the great riddle of his age. 
 
 The first Duke of Suffolk married 
 Alice Chaucer, the poet's grand- 
 daughter. It is pleasant to reflect 
 on this union between the family that 
 had risen by commerce, and a family 
 that had risen by literature, in these 
 generous old times. — Hannay. 
 
 A J/nchy Fellow. — Earl Nugent, 
 to whom Goldsmith addressed his 
 "Haunch of Venison, " was thrice 
 married ; and Lord Dover says : " He 
 seems to have passed his long life in 
 seeking lucrative places, and courting 
 rich widows ; in both of which pur- 
 suits he was eminently successful." 
 
 Ridictde of Ancestry. — Gray thought 
 the age of Proissart barbarous. Vol- 
 taire treated the Crusaders as knaves 
 and madmen. HoraceWalpole sneered 
 at Sir Philip Sidney. Lord Chester- 
 field, forgetful of the saying of that 
 maternal grandfather. Lord Halifax, 
 from whom he derived so much of his 
 peculiar wit, that " the contempt of 
 scutcheons is as much a disease in 
 this age as the over-valuing them was 
 m former times" — delighted in ridi- 
 culing pedigree and heralds. One of 
 
 his cleverest essays in the World was 
 against birth. He hung up two por- 
 traits, "Adam de Stanhope" and "Eve 
 de Stanhope," among his ancestors. 
 And he said, with a great deal of 
 humour, to a herald of that time, 
 " You foolish man, you don't know 
 your own foolish business." — Han- 
 nay. 
 
 Ancestral Squabbles. — In the time 
 of Queen Elizabeth, Richard Bagot 
 claimed to be allied to the Staffords, 
 Dukes of Buckingham, which so ex- 
 cited the wrath of Edward Lord Staf- 
 ford that, in 1589, he wrote an angry 
 epistle, wherein he says : " Surely I 
 will not exchange my name of Staf- 
 ford for the name of a Bagge of Dates, 
 for that is your name, Bag-ote" 
 
 The late Mr. Huddlestone believed 
 himself to be lineally descended from 
 Athelstaue, of which his name was 
 allowed to be an undeniable corrup- 
 tion ; and amongst others by the late 
 Duke of Norfolk. These two worthies 
 often met over a bottle to discuss the 
 respective pretensions of their pedi- 
 grees ; and on one of these occasions, 
 when Mr. Huddlestone was dining 
 with the Duke, the discussion was 
 prolonged till the descendant of the 
 Saxon Kings fairly rolled from his 
 chair upon the floor. One of the 
 younger members of the family has- 
 tenet}, by the Duke's desire, to re- 
 establish him, but he sternly repelled 
 the proffl'ered hand of the cadet. 
 " Never," he hiccuped out, " shall it 
 be said that the head of the house of 
 Huddlestone was lifted from the 
 ground by a younger branch of the 
 house of Howard." " Well, then, my 
 good old friend," said the good- 
 natured Duke, "I must try what I 
 can do for you myself. The head of 
 the house of Howard is too drunk to 
 pick up the head of the house of Hud- 
 dlestone, but he will lie down beside 
 him with all the pleasure in the 
 world:" so saying, the Duke also 
 took his jj.ace upon the floor. The 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 37 
 
 concluding part of tl\is anecdote has 
 been plagiarised, and applied to other 
 people, but the authenlioity of this 
 version may be relied on. 
 
 The Proud Somersets. — The pride of 
 lineage was, perhaps, never more 
 strongly displayed than by the Somer- 
 sets and Seymours, who were of the 
 same stock ; and a prouder man was 
 never seen in England than the Duke 
 of Somerset of two centuries ago, who 
 had the highways cleared before him, 
 that he might not be looked upon by 
 vulgar eyes, and who rebuked his 
 second wife for tapping his shoulder 
 with her fan, saymg, "Madam, my 
 fli'st wife was a Percy, and she never 
 took such a liberty." We may go 
 back at once to Cardinal Beaufort, 
 who was of the first generation of the 
 family apart from royalty, he being 
 the natural son of John of Gaunt. 
 There is a better ground of pride in 
 the family tlian even antiquity. 
 Among the proud Somersets was he 
 who, in early life, commanded a little 
 army, raised by his father for the ser- 
 vice of Charles I., and who, in after 
 yeai'S, wrote the Century of Inven- 
 tions, and first applied the conden- 
 sation of steam to a practical purpose, 
 though his invention was used only 
 for raising water. He was the last 
 noble who held out in his castle 
 against Cromwell ; and the stronghold 
 was the Raglan Castle which gave his 
 title to the late Field-Marshal who, 
 in 1854, commanded the British army 
 in the Crimea. 
 
 A B.atidsome Family. — The Villierses 
 are a curious instance of a family 
 rising by its good looks. They came 
 OQt of a Leicestershire manor-house, 
 where they had been vegetating in 
 their woods, and became one of the 
 most prominent families in England 
 in one age. The first Duke of Buck- 
 ingham had " a numerous and beauti- 
 ful female kindred," says EuUer, "and 
 strengthened his position, by the con- 
 nexions they formed. Lord Den- 
 
 bigh's wife was one of them ; and 
 Marlborough's great-grandmother, 
 and the mother of Chatham, was of 
 the same family in the next century. 
 — Hannay. 
 
 Lord Buckhirst, who was noted for 
 his extravagant living, was reformed 
 in this way: — An alderman, from 
 whom he had borrowed, kept him 
 waiting one day so long, tliat liis 
 Sackville blood rose at it, and he 
 turned a good sober economist from 
 the effect it produced on him. 
 
 Louis Quutorze, when he gave an 
 appointment, communicated it to 
 the object of his condescension in an 
 elegant saying : " If I had known," he 
 would remark, " a more deserving 
 person, I would have selected him." 
 
 The Buke of Buckingham, in his Pri- 
 vate Diary, has this piquant entry : — 
 " Dined at Lord Shrewsbury's — a 
 formal party. They are just come to 
 their fortune ; are very rich, and very 
 proud of their riches withal. She 
 covers herself with diamonds, and 
 silver-foil, and spangles, and goes 
 about, like a chimney-sweeper on 
 May-day, in a carriage drawn by four 
 grey horses, driven in hand — some- 
 what remarkable anywhere ; at Rome 
 particularly so. She is haughty aiid 
 proud, and desirous of being consi- 
 dered as the head of English society 
 here, but manages badly, and gets 
 hated. After dinner he, who is a 
 good quiet sort of a body, came up to 
 me and thanked me for the honour I 
 liad done him by dining with him ! — 
 and he the first earl of England! 
 To-day, in the Yilla Borghese, I saw 
 the four coach-horses, one coachman, 
 two footmen, carriage, and Lady 
 Shrewsbury and sisters, all in the 
 middle of the road. A fly had bit 
 one of the horses, and this set the 
 ladies screaming. So I put them into 
 my carriage; and, notwithstanding 
 her objection to driving with a pair in 
 a job, she condescended to be taken 
 home." 
 
38 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 THE FIEST BTJKE OP ST. ALBAN S. 
 
 The first Duke, the reader need 
 scarcely be told, was Charles Beau- 
 clerk, illegitimate son of Charles 11., 
 by His Majesty's celebrated mistress, 
 Eleanor Gwyn. [The family motto, 
 Auspicium melioris avi, (a pledge of 
 better times,) is a strange conceit.] 
 The tradition of his first elevation to 
 the Peerage is not so well known. — 
 Cliarles one day going to see Nell 
 Gwyn, and the little boy being in the 
 I'oom, the king wanted to speak to 
 him. His mother called to him, 
 " Come hither, you little bastard, and 
 speak to your father." " Nay, Nelly," 
 said the King, " do not give the child 
 such a name." "Your Majesty," 
 replied Nelly, " has given me no other 
 name by which I may call him !" 
 Upon this the King conferred on him 
 the name of Beauclerk, and created 
 liim Earl of Burford; and shortly 
 before his death made him Duke of 
 St. Alban's. He served for some 
 years in the Imperial armies, and 
 gained great honour by his gallantry 
 at the assault of Belgrade in 108S. 
 He afterwards served under King 
 William, who made him Captain of 
 the band of Gentlemen Pensioners, 
 and a Lord of the Bedchamber. 
 Queen Anne continued him in these 
 posts till the Tory ministry came in, 
 when he resigned. He was, however, 
 restored to them by George I., who 
 also gave him the Garter. He died 
 at the age of fifty-five. May 11th, 
 1726 ; having married Diana, heiress 
 of Aubrey de Vera, last Earl of 
 O-vford. 
 
 LOUD OAKLISLE TO GEORGE SELWYN. 
 
 The Letters addressed by the Earl 
 of Carlisle, from the Continent, to his 
 friend George Selwyn, contain many 
 pleasant things, among which are the 
 loUowing : — 
 
 His ]jordship, while on his tour, 
 writes thus of his wife, to Selwyn : 
 " I do not find that this long separa- 
 
 tion from a certain person has any 
 way lessened my love or esteem for 
 her ; nor have the faces and conversa- 
 tion of the women here (whose natu- 
 ral love of gallantry is commonly 
 prevailing enough to interest people 
 seriously, whose constitutions are less 
 warm, and experience greater than 
 mine) been powerful enough to efface 
 one instant the idea of that beauty 
 which has been so long the regulator 
 of my way of acting. Whatever you 
 can say upon this subject will have 
 no effect in either adding fuel, or in 
 putting out the fire ; therefore, let no 
 fears of this kind restrain you. Spin 
 out each trifling circumstance, till it 
 be too thin to bear the weight of new 
 words. ' Dwell upon, adorn, and 
 lengthen every word that falls from 
 her mouth, that you think would inte- 
 rest me ; and if no mention should be 
 made of me, I could at most wish 
 that you should invent to deceive and 
 please me." 
 
 His Lordship writes from Naples, 
 1768 : " I am just come from spend- 
 ing the night in going up Mount 
 Vesuvius, — a thing more wonderful 
 than pleasing. If I had not been 
 ashamed to have gone away from 
 Naples without going up, I should 
 certainly not have given myself the 
 trouble." 
 
 Between Piedmont and Turin Lord 
 Carlisle was invited by a gentleman 
 residing at the foot of the Col di 
 Tenda to dine with him and his wife, 
 neither of whom could speak a word 
 of French — nothing but Piedmontese. 
 "You may suppose," (Lord Carlisle 
 writes to George Selwyn,) spending 
 the whole day with these people was 
 no small bore, but your old resource, 
 luckily, did not fail me on this occa- 
 sion: I slept most part of the day, 
 and went to bed at six o'clock in the 
 evening." 
 
 Prom Turin his Lordship, writing 
 of the frequency of murder here, says : 
 " None of our servants will walk 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 39 
 
 about the house after sunset but in 
 pairs ; they loolc like the beasts going 
 into Noah's ark." 
 
 DKURY LANE THEATRE, 1794. 
 
 In rebuilding this theatre, Mr. 
 Whitbread contended that the actor 
 was like a portrait in a picture, and 
 accordingly placed the green curtain 
 in a gilded frame remote from the 
 foot-lights ; alleging that no per- 
 former should mar the illusion by 
 stepping out of the frame. Dowton 
 v,-as the first actor who, like Man- 
 fred's ancestor in the Castle of 
 Otranto, took the liberty of abandon- 
 ing the canon. "Don't tell me of 
 frames and pictures," ejaculated the 
 testy comedian ; " if I can't be heard 
 by the audience in the frame, I'll walk 
 out of it!" ,The prpscenium was 
 new-modelled, and the actors thereby 
 brought nearer to the audience. 
 
 "A PKOPEMT ELEPHANT. 
 
 When the elephant Ghunee, of 
 Exeter Change, first appeared at 
 Covent Garden Theatre, in the panto- 
 mime of Harlequin in Padmandaba, — 
 Johnson, the machinist of the rival 
 house, exclaimed, " I should be very 
 sorry if I could not make a better 
 elephant than that !" Johnson was 
 right: we go to the theatre to be 
 pleased with the skill of the imitator, 
 and not to look at the reality. 
 
 WILL SOMMBES, THE COURT JESTER. 
 
 In the whole history of fools, the 
 humour of which is, generally, of a 
 dreary kind, there is nothing compa- 
 rable to the story of WUl Sommers 
 and his uncle, " the plaine old man of 
 threescore yeeres'" who came up out 
 of Shropshire to visit his relative, "a 
 gentleman in the court dwelling, 
 called by the name of Will Som- 
 mers." "Will takes him by the 
 hand," says Armin, " and led hiin to 
 the chamber of presence, and ever and 
 anpn cryes out. Aware, roome for nje 
 
 and my uncle ! and knaves bid him 
 welcome. You are welcome, sir, said 
 they ; the old man thought himself no 
 earthly man, they honoured him so 
 much." And then we are told. Will, 
 " seeing him not fine enough to looke 
 on the King, attires him in his best 
 fooles coate, simply, God wot, mean- 
 ing well to him ; and the simple old 
 man as simply put it on, cap and all," 
 and so they go before the King, and 
 the old man tells his tale about Ter- 
 ril's Frith, and the tyranny of his rich 
 neighbour. What a picture the scene 
 would make — bluff King Hal, good- 
 naturedly amused at the simple old 
 countryman, tricked out with the in- 
 signia of folly^ and utterly uncon- 
 scious that his uniform is not the pink 
 of correctness — the fine gentlemen of 
 the Court grinning in their enjoyment 
 of the brave sport which '" this kinde 
 old man," as Armin calls him, is 
 making for them — and Will, in his 
 capacity of extempore gentleman 
 usher, throwing as much importance 
 as he can into that merry honest face 
 which looks at us through the grating, 
 in the long room at Hampton Court. 
 
 "jenny dang THE WEAVER." 
 
 This humorous song was written 
 by the late Sir Alexander Boswell, 
 Bart., of Aiiohinleck. Its origin is 
 somewhat curious. . The Rev. Mr. 
 Gardner, minister of the parish of 
 Birse, in Aberdeenshire, well known 
 for his musical talent and for his wit, 
 was, one Saturday evening, arranging 
 his ideas for the service of the fol- 
 lowing day, in his little study, which 
 looked into the court-yard of the 
 manse, where Mrs. Gardner, sec?<»(fe — 
 for he had been twice married — was 
 engaged in the homely task, of 
 " beetling" the potatoes for supper. 
 To unbend his mind a little,, he took 
 up his Cremona, and began to step 
 over the notes of an air he had previ- 
 ously jotted down, when suddenly an 
 altercation arose between Mrs. Gard- 
 
40 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 ner and Jock the " minister's man" — 
 an idle sort of weaver from the 
 neighbonring village of Marywell, 
 ■who had lately been engaged as man- 
 of-all-work about the manse. " Here, 
 Jock," cried the mistress, as he had 
 newly come in from the labours of 
 the field, "gae wipe the minister's 
 shoon." " Na," said the lout, " I'll 
 do nae sic thing ; I cam' here to be 
 yir ploughman, but no yir flunky ; and 
 I'll be d— d gif I'll wipe the minis- 
 ter's shoon!" "Deil confound your 
 impudence !" said the enraged Mrs. 
 Gardner, as she sprung at him with a 
 heavy culinary instrument in her 
 hand, and giving him a hearty beat- 
 ing, compelled him to perform the 
 menial duty required. The minister, 
 highly diverted with the scene, gave 
 the air he had just completed the title 
 of " Jennie Dang the Weaver." This 
 is supposed to nave occurred about 
 the year 1746. 
 
 THE BALLAD-SINGEU, BY THOMAS 
 HOOD. 
 
 The ballad-singer is a town-crier 
 for the advertising of lost tunes. 
 Hunger hath made him a wind in- 
 strument ; his want is vocal, and not 
 he. His voice had gone a begging 
 before he took it up, and applied it to 
 the same trade ; it was too strong to 
 hawk mackerel, but was just soft 
 enough for Robin Adair. His busi- 
 ness is to make popular songs unpo- 
 pular ; he gives the air, like a wea- 
 thercock, with many variations. As 
 a key, he has but one — a latch-key for 
 all manner of tunes ; and as they are 
 to pass current amongst the lower 
 sorts of people, he makes his notes 
 like a country banker's, as thick as he 
 can. His notes have a copper sound, 
 for he sounds for copper ; and for tlie 
 musical divisions he hath no regard, 
 but sings on, like a kettle, without 
 taking any heed of the bars. Before 
 beginning he clears his pipe with 
 gin ; and he is always hoarse from the 
 
 thorough draft in his throat. He 
 hath but one shake, and tliat is in 
 winter. His voice is fiat from flatu- 
 lence ; and he fetches breath, like a 
 drowning kitten, whenever he can. 
 Notwithstanding all this, his music 
 gains ground, for it walks with him 
 from end to end of the street. He is 
 your only performer that requires not 
 many entreaties for a song; for he 
 will chant, without asking, to a 
 street cur or a parish post. His only 
 backwardness is to a stave after 
 dinner, seeing that he never dines-; 
 for he sings for bread, and though 
 corn has ears, sings very commonly in 
 vain. As for his country, he is an 
 Englishman, that by his birthright he 
 may sing whether he can or not. To 
 conclude, he is reckoned passable in 
 the city, but is not so good off the 
 stones. 
 
 TAILORS BTTIILESQUED. 
 
 Charles Lamb remarks in his 
 Essai/ on the Melancholy of 
 Tailors, that "drink itself does not 
 seem to elevate him." This assertion 
 seems contrary to that in the acting 
 tragedy of Tom, Thumb, wherein Queen 
 Dollabella so enthusiastically ex- 
 claims — 
 
 Perdition catcli the railers, 
 "We'll have a row, and get as drunk as 
 tailors. 
 
 It is to be observed, however, that 
 Fielding is not responsible for this 
 illustration, which has been made by 
 some adaptor who has had the teme- 
 rity to do for the heroic tragedy in 
 question what Gibber did for 
 " Richard," and Tate for old " King 
 Lear." 
 
 The illustration is insulting, and 
 therefore it is anonymous. The poets 
 generally have been complimentary to 
 the tailors. Few of the sons of song 
 have reviled the true "makers of 
 men." None ever did so on so ex- 
 tensive a scale as the author of the 
 three-act piece called The Tailors : a 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 41 
 
 Irageiy for Warm Weather ; and no 
 author has remained so utterly un- 
 comatable by the public curiosity, 
 about \shom no man ever heard a 
 conjecture. 
 
 It is now somewhat near a century 
 ago since a manuscript was sent from 
 Dodsley's shop to Foote, the manager 
 of the "Little Hay market." The 
 manuscript was that of the warm 
 weather tragedy, and Foote was re- 
 quested to return the copy if it were 
 not approved of. The great comedian 
 knew better. The burlesque play of 
 the anonyinous author was acted with 
 a strong cast. Foote himself was the 
 Francesco ; Shnter played Abra- 
 hamides the ?lint; Western did jus- 
 tice to Jaekides ; old Bannister was 
 ponderous as Campbello ; and gay 
 Jack Palmer was just the man to 
 enact that Lothario of stage tailors 
 the seductive Isaacos. Mrs. Jeffries 
 represented the false wife Dorothea, 
 and Mrs. Gardner the faithful maid 
 Tittillinda. The profession exhibited 
 much unnecessary susceptibility in 
 being offended at this piece. Its 
 tendency, if it have any at all, is 
 rather to elevate than depress the 
 public appreciation for the tailor, 
 whether in his aspect of master or of 
 " Flint" out upon strike. The entire 
 action is devoted to the history of a 
 strike for wages, with a supplemental 
 love-plot annexed. The head master- 
 tailor is a highly respectable indi- 
 vidual, who has our sympathy because 
 he is betrayed by his wife ; and the 
 chief, Flint, wins admiration because 
 he gets hanged, and is cheated out of 
 his mistress. The strike ends unfa- 
 vourably for those who make it ; but, 
 though the author sets out with the 
 determination to render all his dra- 
 maiis persona ridiculous, he cannot do 
 it. The very first sentence in this 
 play contains an allusion to Elliott's 
 brigade, that famous band of warriors 
 made up almost entirely of tailors. 
 We must refer oiu: readers to the 
 
 piece itself, if they be curious to see 
 how the subject is treated in evident 
 contrariety to the author's own de- 
 sign; he makes all the characters 
 utter commonplace common sense, 
 when his intention was to make them 
 lose themselves upon stilts in a sea of 
 tropes, tirades, and thunderings 
 against tyranny. 
 
 The antiquary will not fail to notice 
 that Bedfordbury is a locality set 
 down in this piece as a place where 
 tailors most did congregate some cen- 
 tury ago ; they still much do congre- 
 gate on the same spot. A century 
 before the period of the piece, Frank 
 Kynaston, the poet, resided in a house 
 adjacent to the "Bury," and the me- 
 mory thereof is stiU kept up in the 
 name of Kynaston-alley, which is 
 within that same "Bury" of classical 
 associations. Thus do tailoring and 
 the belles leitres continue to be ia 
 close connection, and where Kynas- 
 ton's muse kept itself warm, the 
 sacred goose of the Schneider still 
 glows with fervid heat. The opera- 
 tives of the " Bury," moreover, look 
 as much like poets as tailors — so ab- 
 stract are they of air, so romantically 
 heedless of personal appearance, and 
 so unromantically and really "half 
 starved." Not of them can be said 
 what Tittillinda says of Abra- 
 hamides : — 
 
 Whose form might claim attention even 
 from queens. 
 
 loss OP AN EYE. 
 
 It is oddly told that at Orton, in 
 Yorkshire, Mr. Fothergill, vicar there, 
 one Sunday exchanged pulpits with 
 Mr. Dalton of Shap, who had but one 
 eye. A Quaker stalking as usual into 
 the church of Orton, whilst Mr. Dal- 
 ton is preaching, says, " Gome down, 
 thon false Fothergill!" "Who told 
 thee," says Mr. Dalton, "that my 
 name was Fothergill ?" "The Spirit,"' 
 quoth the Quaker. "That spirit of 
 thine is a lying spirit," says the other; 
 
42 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 "for it is well known I am not 
 rothergUl, hut peed Daltoa ot Shap !" 
 
 TO A GAMESTEK. 
 
 I hope you have left off play, or if 
 you have played, I hope you have 
 won, and that there is not a guiuea 
 left among the thieves to tempt you 
 to lose it back. 
 
 JEALOUSY. 
 
 How rarely, if ever, do we find 
 great genius unassociated with weak- 
 ness ! " The only symptom I saw of 
 jealousy," (in Canova,) says Haydon, 
 " was certainly at the name of Plax- 
 man. When we talked of his doings, 
 there was an expression I did not 
 like." 
 
 AN ELECTION BALL. 
 
 An old Scotch laird, at one of these 
 entertainments, had attired himself in 
 splendour for the occasion. The 
 grandee, who was going round, of 
 course showing civilities, said, "I 
 
 didna ken ye, B , you're so braw." 
 
 " Nae," said the old squire ; " and I 
 dare say, ye'U no ken me for another 
 seven year !" 
 
 CATALABI AND JENNY LIND. 
 
 Some days before her death, Madame 
 Catalan!, who was sitting alone in her 
 drawing-room, without any presenti- 
 ment of her approaching end, received 
 a visit from an unknown lady, who 
 declined to give her name to the ser- 
 vant. As soon as the stranger was 
 admitted, she bowed, saying, " I am 
 come to pay my homage to the most 
 celebrated singer of our times, and to 
 the most noble of women. Give me 
 your blessing, madame — I am Jenny 
 Lind." Madame Catalani, touched 
 even to tears, pressed her young dis- 
 ciple to her heart. 
 
 A KNOWING OLD 'WOSIAN. 
 
 At the time of the renewal of war, 
 after the peace, of Amiens, a gentle- 
 man, who was fishing in a sequestered 
 
 spot not far from London, was accosted 
 by an old woman of the neighbour- 
 hood, who entered into conversation 
 with him on various matters. After 
 a little, he asked her if she were not 
 alarmed about Bonaparte's landing on 
 the island. " Oh dear no !" she an- 
 swered ; " I am up to all that. He 
 was expected here when I was a young 
 woman, and he nearly came. At that 
 time they called him the Pretender, 
 and now they call him Bonaparte." 
 
 There was a report that the sun 
 stood still at the battle of Wittem- 
 berg. The King of Prance asked Alva, 
 who commanded the victorious army, 
 whether it were true; his answer was, 
 "Sire, I had too much to do upon earth 
 to have any leisure for looking at 
 heaven." — Sermon by Viepa. 
 
 AN ODD MISCALCULATION. 
 
 The plot of Mr. Bailey's satire of 
 The Age is somewhat obscure. Critic 
 and Friend, waiting for a train to take 
 them into Kent, receive a call from 
 Author, a poet, with a manuscript in 
 his pocket. Finding that they have 
 still two hours for talk, the three 
 satirists proceed to make the most of 
 their time. But Mr. Bailey commits 
 a serious error in his estimate of 
 human volubility. The satire consists 
 of more than 4800 lines, and, conse- 
 quently, the censors of the age must, 
 before the cab was at the door, have 
 delivered themselves for two entire 
 hours, at the rate of forty lines a 
 minute, a feat which any curious 
 reader may ascertain by experiment 
 to be difficult, if not impossible. — 
 Review. 
 
 THE LONGITUDE. 
 
 A correspondent of the Oentleman's 
 Magazine, m March, 1784, states that 
 he once read, in Pope's handwriting, 
 a verified .anecdote of Sir Isaac New- 
 ton being so often interrupted by 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 43 
 
 ignorant pretenders to the discovery 
 oT the Longitude, that he ordered liis 
 porter to inquire of every stranger 
 who desired admission, whether he 
 came about the Longitude, aud to ex- 
 clude such as answered in the affirma- 
 tive. Two lines, the correspondent 
 recollected, are as follows : — 
 Is it about the longitude you come ? 
 The porter ask'd : Sir Isaac's not at home. 
 
 TAXiTION. 
 Lady Carteret remarked to Swift 
 that the air of Ireland was exceedingly 
 pure and healthy. " For mercy's sake, 
 madam," exclaimed Swift, with a pre- 
 tence of alarm, " don't tell them so in 
 England; for if you do, they will 
 certainly tax it." 
 
 COlfSOIiATION. 
 
 Shortly after the death of Mrs. , 
 
 the wife of a popular actor, and at that 
 time an unpopular manager, some one 
 
 observed that " Mr. had suffered 
 
 a loss in the death of his wife, which 
 he would not soon be able to mahe 
 tip." "I don't know how that may 
 be," replied George Colman, drily, 
 "but, to tell you the truth, I don't 
 think he has quarrelled with his loss 
 yet." 
 
 A CITBIOTJS CASE. 
 
 In the year 1777, the following 
 story much amazed the faculty in the 
 metropolis. A sailor, who had broken 
 his leg, was advised to communicate 
 his case to the Royal Society. The 
 account he gave was, that, having 
 fallen from the top of the mast and 
 fractured his leg, he had dressed it 
 with nothing but tar and oakum, and 
 yet in three days was able to walk as 
 well as before the accident. The story 
 at first appeared quite incredible, as 
 no such efficacious qualities were 
 known in tar, and still less in oakum ; 
 nor was a poor sailor to be credited 
 on his own bare assertion of so won- 
 derful a cure. The Society very rea- 
 sonably demanded a fuller relation. 
 
 and the corroboration of evidence. 
 Many doubted, whether the leg had 
 been really broken. That part of the 
 story had been amply verified. Still, 
 it was diifioult to believe that the 
 man had made use of no other appli- 
 cations than tar and oakum ; aud how 
 thej/ could cure a broken leg in three 
 days, even if they could cure it at all, 
 was a matter of the utmost wonder. 
 Several letters passed between the 
 Society and the patient, who perse- 
 vered in the most solemn asseverations 
 of having used no other remedies, and 
 it appeared beyond a doubt that the 
 man spoke the truth. But, charming 
 was the plain, honest simpHcity of the 
 sailor : in a postscript to his last letter 
 he added these words: "I forgot to 
 tell your honours that the leg was a 
 wooden one." Was there ever more 
 humour ? What would one have given 
 to have been present, and seen the 
 foolish faces of the wise assembly ! 
 
 NAN" CLABGES. 
 
 The most singular portion of Gene- 
 ral Monk's private history is his mar- 
 riage to Anne, daughter of John 
 Glarges, a farrier in tlie Savoy in the 
 Strand. She was first married to 
 Thomas Radford, late farrier : they 
 lived at the Three Spanish Gipsies, 
 in the New Exchange, Strand, and 
 sold wash-balls, powder, gloves, &c., 
 and she taught plain-work to girls. 
 In 1647 she became sempstress to 
 Monk, and used to carry him linen. 
 In 1649 she and her husband fell out 
 and parted ; but no certificate of any 
 parish-register appears recording his 
 burial. In 1652 she was married at 
 the church of St. George, Southwark, 
 to General Monk, though it is said 
 her first husband was Eving at the 
 time. In the foDowing, year she was 
 delivered of a son, Christopher, who 
 " was suckled by Honour Mills, who 
 sold apples, herbs, oysters, &c." The 
 father of " Nan Clarges,'' according to 
 Aubrey's Lives (written about 1680), 
 
44 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 had his forge upon the site of No. 
 317, on the north side of the Strand. 
 " The shop is still of that trade," says 
 Aubrey ; " the corner shop, the fli'st 
 turning, on y= right hand, as you 
 come out the Strand into Drury-lane: 
 the house is now built of brick," 
 The house alluded to is believed to be 
 that at the right-hand corner of Drury- 
 court, now a butcher's. The adjoin- 
 ing house, in the court, is now 
 a whitesmith's, with a forge, &o. 
 Nan's mother was one of Fine Women 
 Barbers, celebrated in her time. Nan 
 is described by Clarendon as a person 
 "of the lowest extraction, without 
 either wit or beauty;" and Aubrey 
 says "she was not at all handsome 
 nor cleanly," and that she was semp- 
 stress to Monk, when he was impri- 
 soned in the Tower. She is known 
 to have had great control and autho- 
 rity over him. Upon his being raised 
 to a dukedom, and her becoming 
 Duchess of Albe.iiarle, her father, the 
 farrier, is said to have raised a May- 
 pole in the Strand, nearly opposite 
 his forge, to commemorate his daugh- 
 ter's good fortune. She died a lew 
 days after the Duke, and is interred 
 by his side in Henry the Seventh's 
 Chapel, Westminster Abbey. The 
 Duke was succeeded by his son, 
 Christopher, who married Lady Eli- 
 zabeth Cavendish, granddaughter of 
 the Duke of Newcastle, and died 
 childless. The Duchess's brother, 
 Thomas Clarges, was a physician of 
 note; was created a baronet in 1674, 
 and was ancestor to the baronets ; 
 whence is named Clarges-street, Pic- 
 cadilly. 
 
 A QTTACK OCULIST. 
 
 Sir William Read, originally a tailor 
 or a cobbler, became progressively 
 a mountebank and a quack doctor, 
 and gained, in his case, the equivocal 
 honour of knighthood from Queen 
 Anne. He is said to have practised 
 by " the light of nature ;" and though 
 
 he could not read, he could ride in his 
 own chariot, and treat his company 
 with good punch out of a golden 
 bowl. He had an uncommon share of 
 impudence ; a few scraps of Latin in 
 his bills made the ignorant suppose 
 him to be wonderfully learned, lie 
 did not seek his reputation in small 
 places, but practised at that high scat 
 of learning, Oxford : and in one of his 
 addresses he called upon the ^ioe- 
 Chanoellor, University, and the City, 
 to vouch for his cures — as,, indeed, he 
 did upon the people of the three king- 
 doms. Blindness vanished before him, 
 and he even deigned to practise in 
 other distempers; but he defied all 
 competition as an oculist. 
 
 Queen Anne and George I. hon- 
 oured Read with the care of their 
 eyes ; from which one would have 
 thought the rulers, hke the ruled, as 
 dark intellectually as Taylor's (his 
 brother quack) coach-horses were cor- 
 poreally, of which it was said five 
 were blind in consequence of their 
 master having exercised his skill upon 
 them. 
 
 Dr. Radoliffe mentions this worihy 
 as "Read the mountebank, who has 
 assurance enough to come to our 
 table upstairs at Garraway's, swears 
 he'll stake his coach and six horses, 
 his two blacks, and as many silver 
 trumpets, against a dinner at Pon- 
 tack's." 
 
 Read died at Rochester, May 24, 
 1715. After Queen Anne had 
 knighted him and Dr. Hannes, there 
 appeared the following lines : — 
 
 The Queen, like Heav'n, shines equally on 
 
 all. 
 Her favours now without distinction fall: 
 Great Eead and slender Hannes, both 
 
 knighted, show- 
 That none their honours shall to merit 
 
 owe. 
 That popish doctrine is exploded quite. 
 Or Ealph* had been no duke, and Eead 
 
 no knight, 
 
 * Ealph, first Duke of Montague. 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 45 
 
 BET FLINT. 
 
 In Meard's- court, Drury-lane.IiTed, 
 in a ready-fiirnished room, at 5s. a- 
 woek, Bet Plint ; tried at the Old 
 Bailey, in 1758, for stealing a coun- 
 terpane, and other articles, from the 
 room she occupied. BosweU relates 
 an amusing, but somewhat inaccurate, 
 story of her, which he had received 
 from Johnson. The judge, who loved 
 a wench, summed up favourably, and 
 she was acquitted. After which 
 Bet said, with a gay and satisfied 
 an-, "Now that the counterpane 
 is my own, I will make a petticoat 
 of it." 
 
 HASDSOME TBACT, A MAYPAIB, 
 MAKMAGB. 
 
 In the autumn of 1748, a young 
 fellow, called Handsome Tracy, was 
 walking in the Park with some of his 
 acquaintance, and overtook three 
 gi]-ls : one was very pretty ; they fol- 
 lowed them ; but the girls ran away, 
 and the company grew tired of pur- 
 suing them, all but Tracy. He fol- 
 lowed to Whitehall-gate, where he 
 pave a porter a crown to dog them : 
 the porter hunted them — he the por- 
 ter. The girls ran all round West- 
 minster, and back to the Haymarket, 
 where the porter came up with them. 
 He told the pretty one she must go 
 with Hm, and kept her talking till 
 Tracy arrived, quite out of breath, 
 and exceedingly in love. He insisted 
 on knowing where she lived, which 
 she refused to tell him; and after 
 much dispute, went to the house of 
 one of her companions, and Tracy 
 with them. He there made her dis- 
 cover her family, a butter-woman in 
 Craven-street, and engaged her to 
 meet him the next morning in the 
 Park ; but before night he wrote her 
 four love-letters ; and in the last 
 offered two hundred pounds a-year to 
 her, and a hundred a-year to her 
 mother ! Griselda made a confidence 
 to a staymaker's wife, who told her 
 
 that the swain was certainly in love 
 enough to marry her, if she could de- 
 termine to be virtuous and refuse his 
 offers. "Ay," said she, "but if I 
 should, and lose him by it ?" How- 
 ever, the measures of the cabin'"', 
 council were decided for virtue ; and 
 when she met Tracy the next morning 
 in the Park, she was convoyed by her 
 sister and brother-in-law, and stuck 
 close to the letter of her reputation. 
 She would do nothing, she would go 
 nowhere. At last, as an instance of 
 prodigious compliance, she told him, 
 if he would accept such a dinner as a 
 butter-woman's daughter could give, 
 he should be welcome. Away they 
 walked to Craven- street ; the mother 
 borrowed some silver to buy a leg of 
 mutton, and they kept the eager 
 lover drinking till twelve at night, 
 when a chosen committee waited on 
 the faithful pair to the minister of 
 Mayfair. This was the Rev, Alex- 
 ander Keith, who had a chapel in 
 Curzon-street ; at which marriages 
 (with a license on a 5s. stamp and 
 certificate) were performed for a 
 guinea. Keith was in bed, and swore 
 he would not get up to marry the 
 King, but that Tie had a brother over 
 the way, who perhaps would, and 
 who did. The mother borrowed a 
 pair of sheets, and they consummated 
 at her house ; and the next day they 
 went to their own palace. In two or 
 three days the scene grew gloomy ; 
 and the husband coming home one 
 night, swore he could bear it no 
 longer. "Bear! bear what ?" "Why, 
 to be teased by all my acquaintance 
 for marrying a butter- woman's daugh- 
 ter. I am determined to go to France, 
 and will leave you a handsome allow- 
 ance." " Leave me ! Why, you don't 
 fancy you shall leave me? I will 
 go with you." "What, you love 
 me, then?" "No matter whe- 
 ther I love you or not, but you 
 shan't go without me." And they 
 went. 
 
46 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 YULTUHE HOPKINS. 
 
 John Hopkins was a wealthy Lon- 
 don merchant, and resided in Old 
 Broad-street. He was the architect 
 of nearly his whole fortune, which 
 uii^inated in some highly fortunate 
 speculations in the stocks, and was 
 considerably increased at the explosion 
 of the South-sea bubble in 1730. He 
 obtained the name of ''Vulture" 
 Hopkins from his rapacious mode of 
 acquiring his immense wealth, which 
 at his death amounted to 300,000^. 
 On one occasion he paid an evening 
 visit to Guy, the founder of the Hos- 
 pital in Southwark, who also was as 
 remarkable for his private parsimony 
 as his public nmnificence. On Hop- 
 kins entering the room, Mr. Guy 
 lighted a farthing candle which lay 
 ready on the table, and desired to 
 know the purport of the gentleman's 
 visit. " I have been told," said Hop- 
 kins, " that you, sir, are better versed 
 in the prudent and necessary art of 
 saving than any man now living, and 
 I therefore wait upon you for a lesson 
 of frugality; an art m which I used 
 to think I excelled, but am told by all 
 who know you, that you are greatly 
 my superior." " And is that all you 
 came about ?" repKed Guy ; " why, 
 then, we can talk this matter over in 
 the dark." Upon this, he with great 
 deliberation exthiguished his new- 
 lighted farthing candle. Struck with 
 this example of economy, Hopkins 
 rose up, acknowledged himself con- 
 vinced of the other's superior thrift, 
 and took his leave. Unfortunately 
 for Hopkins, he happened to be a 
 Whig, and was moreover concerned in 
 various loans to a government Com- 
 posed of Whigs ; this may account for 
 the exacerbation of Pope in the fol- 
 lowing lines from Epistle III. of his 
 Moral Essays : — 
 
 WlierL Hopkins dies, a thousand lights 
 
 attend 
 The wretch, who living saved a candle's 
 
 end; 
 
 Should'ring God's altar a vile image 
 
 stands, 
 Belies his features, nay, extends his hands j 
 That live-long wig which Gorgon's self 
 
 might own. 
 Eternal buckle takes in Parian stone. 
 — From Notes and Queries. 
 
 OLD Q. 
 
 In the large house in Piccadilly, 
 (now Nos. 138 and 139,) lived the 
 old Duke of Queensbury ; here, "in 
 the balcony, on fine days in summer," 
 says Leigh Hunt, "he used to sit, some 
 forty years ago, a thin withered old 
 iigure, with one eye, looking on all 
 the females that passed him, and not 
 displeased if they returned him whole 
 winks for his single ones. This was 
 the Most Noble William Douglas, 
 Duke, Marquis, and Earl of Queens- 
 bury ; Marquis of Dumfries ; Earl of 
 March, Drumlanrig, and Sanquhar; 
 Viscount Nith, Torthorold, and Ross ; 
 and Lord Douglas, of Ambresbury, 
 Howiok, Tibbers, Kilmount, Mid- 
 dleby, Dornook, Niedpath, Lyne, and 
 Mannerhead. He had been Prince of 
 the Jockeys of his time, and was a 
 voluptuary and millionaire. 'Old 
 Q-' was his popular appellation. He 
 died at the age of eighty-six. We 
 have often seen him in his balcony, 
 
 Sunning himself in Euncamunca's eyes; 
 
 and wondered at the longevity of his 
 dissipation and the prosperity of his 
 worthlessness. Stories were told of 
 his milk-baths, his inhaling the breath 
 of dairy-maids, and his getting up 
 interludes of Paris and the Golden 
 Apple, the part of Paris by himself. 
 The last, it seems, was true. His 
 dying bed was covered with billets 
 doux ; that is to say, with love-letters 
 addressed (as Moliere has it) to the 
 ' sweet eyes of his money-box.' " 
 
 This shameless bachelor rake died in 
 1810, at the age of 86, when the 
 newspa|Ders were filled with stories of 
 his orgies: it was said that the 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 47 
 
 Jiackney-coaohmen opposite the house 
 in Piccadilly made money by allowing 
 persons to witness froji the tops of 
 the coaches the nude dames at the old 
 Duke's : the house, by the way, was 
 buHt for the celebrated Kitty Fisher. 
 The Duke is said to have been the 
 last nobleman who kept running foot- 
 men.: "he was in the habit, before 
 engaging them, of trying their paces, 
 by seeing how they could run up and 
 down Piccadilly, he watching and 
 timing them from the balcony. They 
 put on his livery before the trial. On 
 one occasion, a candidate presented 
 himself, and ran. At the conclusion 
 of his performance, he stood before 
 the balcony. 'You'll do very well 
 for me,' said the Duke. 'Your 
 livery will do very well for me,' 
 replied the man, and gave the Duke a 
 last proof of his ability as a runner by 
 then running away with it." — Notes 
 and Queries. 
 
 MAESHAX ■wade's HOUSE. 
 
 Pield-Marshal Wade died in a cu- 
 rious house in Cork-street, BurHng- 
 ton Gardens, built for him by the Earl 
 of Burlington. Walpole, an ill- 
 natured critic, to be sure, describes it 
 as " worse contrived on the inside 
 than is conceivable, all to humour the 
 beauty of the front." Lord Chester- 
 field said, that to be sure he could 
 not live in it, but intended to take 
 the house over against it, to look at 
 it. It is literally true that all the 
 direction he gave my Lord Burlington 
 ■was to have a place for a large car- 
 toon, (Meleager and Atalanta,) of 
 Hubens, that he had bought in Plan- 
 ders ; but my Lord found it necessary 
 to have so many corresponding doors 
 that there was no room at last for the 
 picture ; and the Marshal was forced 
 to sell the picture to Sir Robert Wal- 
 pole ; and it is now at Houghton. 
 
 A STRAUGE NEIGHBC^DE. 
 
 Horace Walpole, in a letter from 
 
 Strawberry HiU, Sept. 3, 1748, says : 
 " Since I came honie I have been dis- 
 turbed with a strange foolish woman, 
 that lives at the great corner house 
 yonder : she is an attorney's wife, 
 and much given to the bottle. By 
 the time she has finished that and 
 daylight, she grows afraid of thieves, 
 and makes the servants fire minute- 
 guns out of the garret-windows. I 
 remember persuading ilrs. Kerwood 
 that there was a great smell of thieves, 
 and this drunken dame seemed lite- 
 rally to smell it." In the 
 
 same letter, further on, he says : 
 " there are now three more guns 
 gone off ; she must be very drunk." 
 
 A SA1ID"WICH. 
 
 Fanny Mun-ay, a gay belle of Wal- 
 pole's time, was complaining of want 
 of money : Sir Robert Atkms imme- 
 diately gave her a twenty- pound note ; 
 she said, " D — n yoiu? twenty pound ! 
 what does it signify ?" clapped it 
 between two pieces of bread-and- 
 butter, and ate it. 
 
 A BOTECOAT GIKL. 
 
 That girls were formerly educated 
 in Christ's Hospital, London, as well 
 as boys, is confirmed by Pepys, in 
 the following curious story : " Two 
 wealthy citizens are lately dead, and 
 left their estates, one to a little blue- 
 coat boy, and the other to a blue-coat 
 girl, in Christ's Hospital. The extra- 
 ordinariness of which has led some of 
 the magistrates to carry it on to a 
 match, which is ended in a public 
 wedding — he in his habit of blue 
 satin, led by two of the girls, and she 
 in blue with an apron green, and 
 petticoat yellow, all of sarsnet, led by 
 two of the boys of the house, through 
 Cheapside to Guildhall Chapel, where 
 they were married by the Dean of St. 
 Paul's, she given by my Lord Mayor. 
 The wedding dinner, it seems, was 
 kept in the Hospital hall." — Fepys tti 
 Mrs. Steward, Sept. 20, 1695. 
 
43 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 cheist's hospital stoeies. 
 
 Coleridge tells us : " The discipliue 
 at Christ's Hospital in my time was 
 ultra-Spartan ; aU domestic ties were 
 to be put aside. 'Boy,' I remember 
 Boyer saying to me once when I was 
 crying, the first day of my return after 
 the holidays, 'Boy, the school is your 
 father! the school is your mother! 
 Boy ! the school is your brother ! the 
 ■school is your sister ! the school is 
 your first cousin, and your second 
 cousin, and all the rest of your rela- 
 tions ! Let's have no more crying.' " 
 
 Charles Lamb, who was " a Blue,'' 
 lias this touching story : " There was 
 
 [a monitor] one H , v/ho, I learned, 
 
 in after days, was seen expiating some 
 maturer offence in the hulks. This 
 petty Nero nearly starved 40 of us 
 with exacting contributions, to the one 
 half of our bread, to pamper a young 
 ass, which, incredible as it may seem, 
 with the connivance of the nurse's 
 daughter (a young flame of his), he 
 iad contrived to smuggle in, and 
 keep upon the leads of the wards, as 
 they called our dormitories. This 
 game went on for better than a week, 
 till the foolish beast, not able to fare 
 well, but he must cry roast meat — 
 happier than Caligula's minion, could 
 iie have kept his own counsel — but 
 foolisher, alas ! than any of his species 
 in llie fables — waxing fat, and kicking 
 in the fulness of breaS, one unlucky day 
 would needs proclaim his good fortune 
 to the world below ; and laying out 
 his single throat, blew such a ram's- 
 5iorn's blast as (toppling down the 
 walls of his own Jericho) set con- 
 cealment any longer at defiance. The 
 ■client was dismissed, with certain 
 attentions, to Smithfleld ; but I never 
 understood that the patron underwent 
 any censure on the occasion." 
 
 A BOTAL EXILE CHEATING THE SPIES. 
 
 Mr. Raikes, in his Journal, relates : 
 "After the Restoration in 1814, among 
 the titled followers of Napoleon who 
 
 were the most anxious to obtain em- 
 ployment at the court of Louis XVIII. 
 none showed moi-e servility and assi- 
 duty to accomplish his purpose than 
 Eouche, Due d'Otranto. He at last 
 had a private interview with the King, 
 when he expressed his desire to dedi- 
 cate his life to his service. Louis 
 replied, ' You have occupied under 
 Bonaparte a situation of great trust, 
 which must have given you opportu- 
 nities of knowing everything that 
 passed, and of gaining an insight into 
 the characters of men of public life, 
 which could not easily occur to others. 
 Were I to decide on attaching you to 
 my person, I should previously expect 
 that you would frankly inform me 
 what were the measures and who were 
 the men that you employed in those 
 days to obtam your information. I 
 do not allude to my stay at Verona or 
 at Mittau. I was then surrounded 
 by numerous adherents ; but, at Hart- 
 well, for instance — were you then well 
 acquainted with what passed under 
 my roof?' 'Yes, Sir; every day, 
 the motions of your Majesty were 
 made known to me.' ' Eh ! what ! 
 surrounded as I was by trusted friends, 
 who could have betrayed me ? Who 
 thus abused my confidence ? I insist 
 on your naming him immediately.' 
 ' Sir, you urge me to say what must 
 wound your Majesty's heart.' 'Speak, 
 Sir, kin^s are but too subject to be 
 deceived.' ' If you command it. Sir, 
 I must own that I was in correspond, 
 ence with the Duke d'Aumont.' 
 ' What ! De Pienne, who possessed 
 my entire confidence ? I must ac- 
 knowledge,' added the King, with a 
 malicious smile, ' he was very poor, 
 he had many expenses, and living is 
 very dear in England, Well, then, 
 Mr. Fouche, it was I who dictated to 
 him those letters which you received 
 every week, and I gave up to him. 
 12,000f. out of the 48,000f. which 
 you so regularly remitted to obtain 
 an exact account of all that was pass- 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 49 
 
 ing m my family." These words 
 
 my 
 ei 
 
 terminated the audience, and the 
 duke retired in confusion. 
 
 SCHOOL POR PICKPOCKETS. 
 
 At Smai-t's Quay, near Billingsgate, 
 in the sixteenth century, one Wotton, 
 a gentleman born, and a merchant 
 ■who had fallen into decay, kept an 
 alehouse; where, after some misde- 
 meanour being put down, he set np a 
 new trade, and invited all the eiitpwses 
 of the City to come to his house. 
 There was a school to teach young 
 boys how to cut purses. There were 
 hung up two devices — a pocket and 
 a purse. The pocket had in it certain 
 counters, and was hung about with 
 hawk's bells, and over the top hung 
 a little scaring (alarm) bell ; and he 
 that could take out a counter without 
 any noise was allowed to be " a pub- 
 lique Hoyster ;" and he that could 
 take a piece of silver out of the purse 
 without the noise of any of the oells, 
 he was adjudged "a judiciall Nypper." 
 In Wotton's house were written on a 
 table divers Poysies, and including 
 these : — 
 
 Si spie sporte, si non spie, tunc ateale. 
 Si spie, si non spie, Hojste, nyppe, lyfte, 
 shave and spare not. 
 
 " Hoyste is to cutt a pockett; nyppe 
 is to cutt a purse ; lyft is to robbe a 
 shoppe or a gentleman's chamber; 
 shave is to take a cloake, a sword, a 
 sylver spoone, or such like that is 
 negligentUe looked unto." 
 
 These strange details were reported 
 by Fleetwood, Recorder of London, 
 to the great Lord Burghley : no 
 detective of the present day could be 
 more minutely attentive. 
 
 STOEIES OP KAG PAIE. 
 
 Pennant has amusingly described 
 this place near the Tower of London, 
 where old clothes and frippery are 
 sold. "The articles of commerce," 
 says Pennant, " by no means belie 
 the name. There is no expressing 
 
 the poverty of the goods ; nor yet 
 their cheapness. A distinguished 
 merchant engaged with a purchaser, 
 observing me to look on liim with 
 great attention, called out to me, as 
 his customer was going off with his 
 bargain, to observe that man ; ' For,' 
 says he, ' I have actually clothed him 
 for fourteenpenoe.' " 
 
 In the Public Advertiser, Feb. 14, 
 1756, we read : "Thursday last, one 
 Mary Jenkins, who deals in old clothes 
 in Rag Pair, sold a pair of breeches 
 to a poor woman for sevenpence and 
 a pint of beer. Whilst they were 
 drinking it in a public-house, the 
 purchaser in unripping the breeches 
 found quilted in the waistband eleven 
 guineas in gold. Queen Anne's coin, 
 and a thirty pound bank-note, dated 
 in 1729, which last she did not know 
 the value of till after she sold it for a 
 gallon of twopenny purl." 
 
 APPECTATION CHASTISED. 
 
 In the debates on the Regency, a. 
 prim peer, remarkable for his finical 
 delicacy and formal adherence to eti- 
 quette, having cited pompously certaiia 
 resolutions which, he said, had been 
 passed by a party of noblemen and 
 gentlemen of great distinction at the 
 Thatched House Tavern, the Lord 
 Chancellor, Thurlow, in adverting to 
 these, said, "As to what the noble 
 lord in the red riband told us he had 
 heard, at the alehouse." Lord Thur- 
 low was just the man to demolish such 
 affectation ; and Lord Campbell, who 
 tells the above story, the very man to 
 chronicle such matters. 
 
 HOW TO GET KID OF A " CALLER." 
 
 When the Dake of Newcastle, the 
 minister, lived in the mansion at the 
 north-west angle of Lincoln's-inn 
 Pields, his levees were his great 
 delight; and among those who crowded 
 there was long Sir Thomas Robinson, 
 a man of the world, or rather of the 
 town, and a great pest to persons of 
 
50 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 high rank, or in ofBoe. He was very 
 troublesome to the Duke of Newcastle, 
 and when, on his visits, he was told 
 that his Grace had gone out, would 
 desire to be admitted to look at the 
 clock, or to play with a monkey that 
 was kept in the hall, in hopes of bein^ 
 sent for in to the Duke. This he had 
 so frequently done, that all in the 
 house were tired of him. At length, 
 it was concocted among the servants 
 that he should receive a summary 
 answer to his usual questions; ac- 
 cordingly, at his next coming, the 
 porter, as soon as he had opened the 
 gate, and without waiting for what 
 Sir Thomas had to say, dismissed him 
 in these words : " Sir, his Grace has 
 gone out, the clock stands, and the 
 monkey is dead !" 
 
 It was at this house that Sir Timothy 
 Waldo, on his way from the Duke's 
 dinner-table to his carriage, put a 
 crown into the hand of the cook, who 
 returned it, saying : " Sir, I do not 
 take silver." " Don't you, indeed ?" 
 said Sir Timothy, putting it into his 
 pocket; " then 1 do not give gold." 
 
 THE POTJLTEHER AND THE PEINCB. 
 
 Home Tooke was the son of a 
 poulterer in Newport Market : when 
 asked what his father was by some of 
 his schoolfellows, he is said to have 
 replied " a Turkey merchant." The 
 somewhat turbulent tone of the poli- 
 tics of the son may have had some- 
 thing to do with the following cir- 
 cumstance. As Mr. Home the 
 father lived in Newport-street, he 
 was a near neighbour to Prederiek 
 Prince of Wales, who then kept his 
 Court at Leicester House. Some of 
 the officers of the household imagining 
 that an outlet towards the market 
 would be extremely convenient to 
 them and the inferior domestics, an 
 adjoining wall was cut through, and a 
 door placed in the opening, without 
 any ceremony ; notwithstanding it was 
 a palpable encroachment on, aud vio- 
 
 lation of, the property of a private 
 individual. In the midst of this 
 operation, Mr. Home remonstrated, 
 as the brick partition actually apper- 
 tained to him, and the intended 
 thoroughfare would lead through, and 
 consequently depreciate, the value of 
 his premises. The representations of 
 the dealer in geese aud turkeys, al- 
 though backed by law and reason, 
 were disregarded by those who 
 abused the authority of a Prince. On 
 this, Home appealed from " the in- 
 solence of office" to the justice of his 
 country; and to the honour of our 
 municipal jurisprudence, the event 
 proved different from what it would 
 have been, perhaps, in any other 
 kingdom in Europe ; for a tradesman 
 of Westminster triumphed over the 
 heir apparent of the English crown, 
 and orders were issued for the re- 
 moval of the obnoxious door. 
 
 A JUDGE OP LIKENESSES. 
 
 George the Third's recollection of 
 persons' faces was no less remarkable 
 than his faculty of remembering their 
 actions. "It was higlily interest- 
 ing," said Cosway, " to observe with 
 what perception he discerned, even at 
 a single glance at a portrait, the re- 
 semblance of the person from whom 
 it was painted, provided his Majesty 
 knew the party." A manuscript list 
 of the portraits was prepared for 
 their Majesties on these royal visits to 
 the exhibition. The King, however, 
 used to take pleasure in discovering 
 the names of the persons represented 
 without referring to the list. When 
 his Majesty happened to fail, then, 
 amidst the surrounding courtiers, it 
 was the painter, and not the royal 
 connoisseur, who was in the wrong. 
 It is due to his Majesty's candour, 
 however, to add, that he would ad- 
 dress whoever was nearest, and 
 qualify those censures upon the 
 
 painter, by saying, " Lord B or 
 
 Lady C is difficult, very difficult 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 51 
 
 to paint. Yes, your portrait-painters 
 have endless difficulties to surmount. 
 Vandyke often failed in his resem- 
 blances. Kneller's men's mouths are 
 all alike, and so are Lely's ladies' 
 eyes. English faces are the most 
 difficult to paint of any faces in the 
 world." The year in which Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds's portrait of the 
 Right Honourable Charles James Eox 
 was exhibited at the Royal Academy 
 had some particular political feature 
 connected with that great statesman, 
 which I cannot bring to my recollec- 
 tion. SoDie allusion to the circum- 
 stance haying led to observations 
 upon the resemblance, several years 
 
 afterwards, by the late Lord M y, 
 
 his Majesty observed, " Yes, yes, very 
 like, very uke. Sir Joshua's picture 
 is finely painted, a fine specimen of 
 art ; but Gillray is the better limner. 
 Noijody hits off Mr. Pox like him ; 
 Gillray is the man ; for the man of the 
 people. Hey ! my lord, hey ! Like as 
 my profile on a Tower halfpenny, 
 hey!" 
 
 THE KOIHSCHILDS. 
 
 In the Memoirs of Sir Thomas 
 Powell Buxton, edited by his son, we 
 find this amusing letter, dated 1834 : 
 " We yesterday dined at Ham House, 
 to meet the Rothschilds ; and very 
 amusing it was. He (Rothschild) 
 told us his life and adventures. He 
 was the third son of the banker at 
 Prankfort. ' There was not,' he said, 
 ' room enough for us all in that city. 
 I dealt in English goods. One great 
 trader came there, who had the 
 market to himself : he was quite the 
 great man, and did us a favour if he 
 sold us goods. Somehow I offended 
 him, and he refused to show me his 
 patterns. This was on a Tuesday ; I 
 said to my father, ' I wUl go to Eng- 
 land.' I could speak nothing but 
 German. On the Thursday I 
 started. The nearer I got to England, 
 the cheaper goods were. As soon as 
 
 I got to Manchester, I laid out all my 
 money, things were so cheap ; and I 
 made good profit. I soon found that 
 there were three profits — the raw 
 material, the dyeing, and the manu- 
 facturing. I said to the manufac- 
 turer, ' I will supply yon with mate- 
 rial and dye, and you supply me with 
 manufactured goods.' So I got three 
 profits instead of one, and I could sell 
 goods cheaper than anybody. In a 
 short time I made my 20,000/. into 
 60,000^. _ My success all turned on 
 one maxim. I said, I can do what 
 another man can, and so I am a match 
 for the man with the patterns, and for 
 all the rest of them ! Another ad- 
 vantage I had. I was an off-hand 
 man. I made a bargain at once. 
 When I was settled in London, the 
 East India Company had 800,000 lbs. 
 of gold to sell. I went to the sale, 
 and bought it all. T knew the Duke 
 of WeUington must have it. I had 
 bought a great many of his bUls at a 
 discount. The Government sent for 
 me, and said they must have it. 
 When they had got it, they did not 
 know how to get it to Portugal. I 
 undertook all that, and I sent it 
 through Prance ; and that was the 
 best business I ever did.' Another 
 maxim, on which he seemed to place 
 great reliance, was, never to have 
 anything to do with an unlucky place 
 or an unlucky man. ' I have seen,' 
 said he, 'many clever men, very 
 clever men, who had not shoes to 
 their feet. I never act with them. 
 Their advice sounds very well; but 
 fate is against them ; they cannot get 
 on themselves ; and if they cannot do 
 good to themselves, how can they do 
 good to me?' By aid of these 
 maxims he has acquired three millions 
 
 of money. 'I hope,' said , 
 
 ' that your children are not too fond 
 of money and business, to the exclu- 
 sion of more important things. I am 
 sure you would not wish that.' — 
 Rothschild : ' I am sure I should wish 
 £ 2 
 
53 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 that. I wish tliem to give mind, and 
 soul, and heart, and bodij, and every- 
 thing to business ; that is the way to be 
 happy. It requires a great deal of 
 boldness, and a great deal of cantion 
 to make a great fortune; and when 
 you have got it, it requires ten times 
 as much wit to keep it. If I were to 
 listen to all the projects proposed to 
 me, I should ruin myself very soon. 
 Stick to one business, young man,' 
 said he to Edward ; ' stick to your 
 brewery, and you may be the great 
 brewer of London. Be a brewer, and 
 a banker, and a merchant, and a ma- 
 nufacturer, and you will soon be in 
 the Gazette. One of my neighbours 
 is a very ill-tempered man ; he tries 
 to vex me, and has built a great place 
 for swine close to my walk. So, 
 when I go out, I hear first, grunt, 
 grunt, squeak, squeak ; but this does 
 me no harm. I am always in good 
 humour. Sometimes to amuse myself 
 I give a beggar a guinea. He thinks 
 it is a mistake, and for fear I should 
 find it out, off he runs as hard as he 
 can. I advise you to give a beggar a 
 guinea sometimes, it is very amusing.' 
 The daughters are very pleasing. 
 The second son is a mighty hunter; and 
 his father lets him buy any horses he 
 likes. He lately applied to the Em- 
 peror of Morocco for a first-rate Arab 
 horse. The Emperor sent him a 
 magnificent one; but he died as he 
 landed in England. The poor youth 
 said very feelingly, 'that was the 
 greatest misfortune he ever had suf- 
 fered;' and I felt strong sympathy 
 ■with him. I forgot to say, that soon 
 after M. Rothschild came to England, 
 Bonaparte invaded Germany ; ' The 
 Prince of Hesse Cassel,' said Roths- 
 child, 'gave my father his money; 
 there was no time to be lost ; he sent 
 it to me. I had 600,000/. arrive un- 
 expectedly by the post ; and I put it 
 to such good use, that the Prince 
 made me a present of all his wine and 
 his linen.' " 
 
 PKEDICTION ■nNFULFILLED. 
 
 When Drury-lane Theatre — " Hol- 
 land's edifice" — was first opened, 
 April 21, 1794, between the play and 
 the farce, a humorous epilogue, written 
 by George Colman, was excellently 
 spoken by Miss Earren. It referred 
 to the iron curtain, which was, in the 
 event of fire, to be let down between 
 the stage and the audience, and which 
 accordingly descended, by way of ex- 
 periment, leaving Miss Earren between 
 the lamps and the curtain. The fair 
 speaker informed the audience, that 
 should the fire break out on the stage 
 (where it usually originates), it would 
 thus be kept from the spectators; 
 adding, with great solemnity, — 
 
 No I we assure our generous benefactors 
 'Twill only bui'n the scenery and the 
 actors ! 
 
 A tank of water was afterwards ex- 
 hibited, in the course of the epilogue, 
 in which a wherry was rowed by a 
 real live man, the band playing — 
 
 And did you not hear of a jolly young 
 waterman ? 
 
 Miss Earren reciting— 
 
 Sit still, there's nothing in it. 
 We'll undertake to drown you in a single 
 minute. 
 
 " vain thought !" as Othello says. 
 Notwithstanding the boast' in the 
 epilogue — 
 
 Blow, wind — come, rack, in ages yet un- 
 born. 
 
 Our castle's strength shall laugh a siege to 
 scorn — 
 
 the theatre fell a victim to the flames 
 within fifteen years from the prog- 
 nostic ! These preparations against 
 fire always presuppose presence of 
 mind and promptness in those who 
 are to put them into action. They 
 remind one of the dialogue, in Mor- 
 ton's Speed tlie Plough, between Sir 
 Abel Handy and his son Bob : — 
 
 " Bob. Zounds, tlie castle's on fire ! 
 Sir A. Yes. .Bo*. Where's your patent 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 53 
 
 liquid for exting'iishing fire ? Sir A. 
 It is not mixed. Bob. Tlieri wliere's 
 your patent fire-escape ? Sir A. It 
 IS not fixed. Soh. You are never at 
 a loss ? Sir A. Never. Bob. Then 
 ■what do you mean to do ? Sir A. I 
 don't know." 
 
 CHIT-CHAT. 
 
 Naturally, women talk more than 
 men. The learned Buxtorf informs 
 US in his Hebrew Lexicon, that the 
 primeval name Eve is derived from 
 a root signifying Talk ; and it was, 
 perhaps, from a dim idea of this kind, 
 that the Rabbins owed their tradition, 
 that twelve baskets of chit-chat — it 
 could not be gossip, for there were no 
 neighbours to gossip about — were 
 rained down into Paradise, for Adam 
 and Eve to amuse themselves with; 
 of which twelve Adam picked up 
 three, and Eve the other nine. — EUza- 
 heth Strutt. 
 
 A rOUNDLIN-G HOSPITAL EEMINIS- 
 CEKOE. 
 
 Dr. WilKam Hunter used to relate 
 the following anecdote : — During the 
 American war he was consulted by 
 the daughter of a peer, who confessed 
 herself jiregnant, and requested his 
 assistance. He advised her to retire 
 for a time to the house of a confiden- 
 tial friend. She said that was impos- 
 sible, as her father would not suffer 
 her to be absent from him a single 
 day. Some of the servants were, 
 therefore, let into the secret, and the 
 doctor made his arrangement with the 
 treasurers of the Foundling Hospital 
 for the reception of the child, for 
 which he was to pay 100/. The lady 
 was desired to weigh well if she could 
 bear pain without alarming the family 
 by her cries : she said " Yes," and she 
 kept her word. At the usual period 
 she was delivered, not of one child 
 only, but of twins. The doctor, 
 bearing the two children, was con- 
 ducted by a French servant through 
 
 the kitchen, and left to ascend the 
 area steps into the street. Luckily 
 the lady's maid recollected that the 
 door of the area might, perhaps, be 
 locked, and she followed the doctor 
 just in time to prevent his being de- 
 tained at the gate. He deposited the 
 children at the Foundling Hospital, 
 and paid for each 100/. The father 
 of the children was a colonel in the 
 army, who went with his regiment to 
 America, and died there. Tlie mother 
 afterwards married a person of her 
 own rank. — Wadd's Memoirs. 
 
 THE HAPPY PATHEE. 
 
 The Chevalier Johnstone, in his 
 Memoirs of the Rebellion in Scotland, 
 in the year 1745,narrates thefollowing 
 affecting story: — "My acquaintance 
 with Mr. Macdonald, of Scothouse, 
 had only commenced with the Prince's 
 expedition,andnotwithstandingthedis- 
 proportion of our age, we were united 
 together in the closest friendship. 
 He entertained for me the affection of 
 a father. As he was naturally of a gay 
 disposition, the grief in which he ap- 
 peared on his entrance attracted my 
 notice. On inquiring the cause, this 
 worthy man replied, with tears in his 
 eyes, ' Ah I my friend, you know not 
 what it is to be a father. I am one 
 of the detachment which is to set out 
 this evening to attack Lord Loudon. 
 You are ignorant that a son whom I 
 adore is an ofiioer in his regiment. I 
 thought myself fortunate in being 
 able to procure such a situation for 
 this youth, being unable to anticipate 
 the landing of the Prince in Scotland. 
 Perhaps to-morrow I may be so un- 
 fortunate as to kill my son with my 
 own hand ; and thus the same bail 
 which I fired in my own defence, may 
 give to myself the most cruel death. 
 However, in going with the detach- 
 ment, I may be able to save him ; and 
 if I do not go, he may fall by the 
 hand of another.' — The recital dis- 
 tressed me very much, and I could 
 
54 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 not refrain from mingling my tears 
 with bis, altliough I had never seen 
 the youth, the subject of such painful 
 anxiety to an aifectionate father. I 
 kept him with me the whole day, en- 
 deavouring by every means in my 
 power to divert his attention from so 
 melancholy a subject, and made him 
 promise, on his taking leave of me, to 
 visit me immediately on his return 
 from the expedition. Next evening I 
 heard a loud knocking at my door, 
 and running to it, I perceived this 
 good father holding a handsome young 
 man by the hand. He instantly called 
 out, with eyes sparkling with joy, 
 ' Here, my friend, liere he is who 
 caused me so much anxiety. I took 
 him prisoner myself, and having 
 secured him, I troubled myself very 
 little about taking others.' He then 
 shed tears of joy very different from 
 the tears of the preceding evening : 
 we supped all three together, and I 
 scarcely ever enjoyed more satisfaction 
 than in witnessing this tender scene 
 between the father and the son." 
 
 HEMP-SEED. 
 
 When Berenger was writing his 
 History of Horsemanship, he made the 
 proper inquiries everywhere, and par- 
 ticularly at the King's Mews. There 
 he found a regular charge made every 
 year for Hemp-seed. It was allowed 
 that none was used, but the charge 
 had been regularly made since the 
 reign of Charles I]., and it was recol- 
 lected that this good-natured monarch 
 was as fond of his ducks as of his 
 dogs, and took pleasure in feeding 
 those fowls in the Canal. It was, 
 therefore, concluded that this new 
 article of expense began in his time, 
 and continued to be charged regularly, 
 long after such seed was used or pro- 
 vided. 
 
 MODiST AND LTJCKX FOSTEB. 
 
 Dr. James Foster, Pope's "modest 
 roster,"— 
 
 Let modest Foster, if he will, excel 
 Ten Metropolitans in preaching well — 
 
 was a preacher in the Old Jewi-y for 
 more than twenty years. He first 
 became popular from Lord Chancellor 
 Hardwicke stopping in the porch of 
 his chapel in the Old Jewry, to escape 
 from a shower of rain. Thinking he 
 might as well hear what was going 
 on, he went in, and was so well pleased 
 that he sent all his great acquaint- 
 ances to hear Foster. 
 
 JESUIT rLOGGING. 
 
 Molinari, a Jesuit of the school at 
 Kensington, had, for corrective pur- 
 poses, a whip made of strong cord, 
 with knots at regular intervals, with 
 which he used to lash the hands of 
 the scholars in such a way as to make 
 the blood leap from them. It seehaed 
 to give him great pain to inflict this 
 chastisement, but he felt the necessity 
 of being severe. He had a very extra- 
 ordinary method of reconciling the 
 devouter student to this torture. He 
 sentenced him first to nine lashes, 
 and then ordered him to hold out his 
 hand ; " Offer it up to God and his 
 saints," he would say, "as a sacrifice." 
 He would then select nine saints. 
 The first blow was to be suffered in 
 honour of St. Ignatius, — "Allons, 
 mon enfant, au nom du plus grand 
 de tous les Saints— St. Ignace !" and 
 down went the whip from a vigo- 
 rous and muscular arm. " Oh ! mon 
 Dieu!" cried the little martyr, with- 
 drawing his hand after the first ope- 
 ration. "Allons! mon enfant, au 
 nom de St. Franpois Xavier !" and he 
 then inflicted a second laceration upon 
 the culprit. " Mais, mon Pere, ayez 
 pitie— jamais, jamais, je ne ferai des 
 solecismes — oh, mon Pere, jamais." 
 The Jesuit was inexorable. " Allons, 
 mon enfant, au nom de St. Louis de 
 Gonzague;" and thus he proceeded 
 till he had gone through his calendar 
 of infliction. 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 55 
 
 LiTJDAMY AND CALAMY. 
 
 Mr. Gillies, in his Reminiscences of 
 Sir Walter Scott, relates:— "It hap- 
 pened, at a small country town, that 
 Scott suddenly required medical ad- 
 vice for one of his servants, and, on 
 inquiring if there was any doctor at 
 the place, was told that there were 
 two — one long established, and the 
 other a new-comer. The latter gen- 
 tleman, being luckily found at home, 
 soon made his appearance — a grave, 
 sagacious-looking personage, attired in 
 black, with a shovel hat, m whom, to 
 his utter astonishment. Sir Walter 
 recognised a Scotch blacksmith, who 
 had formerly practised, with tolerable 
 success, as a veterinary operator in 
 the neighbourhood of Ashestiel. 
 'How, in all the world!' exclaimed 
 he, ' can it be possible that this is 
 John Lundie ?' — ' In troth is it, your 
 honour — ^just a' that's for him.' — 
 ' Well, but let us hear : you were a 
 horse-Aoctox before; now, it seems, 
 you are a man-Aooior; how do you 
 get on ?' — ' Ou, just extraordinar 
 weel ; for your honour maun ken my 
 practice is vera sure and orthodox. I 
 depend entirely upon twa simples' — 
 'And what may their names be? 
 Perhaps it is a secret ?' — ' I'll tell 
 your honour,' in a low tone ; ' my twa 
 simples are just lauiamy and calami/ !' 
 — ' Simples with a vengeance !' re- 
 plied Scott. 'But, John, do you 
 never happen to kill any of your pa- 
 tients ?' — ' Kill ? Ou ay, may be sae ! 
 Whiles they die and whiles no ; — but 
 it's the will o' Providence. Ony how, 
 your honour, it wad be lang before it 
 makes ujifor Flodden !' " 
 
 DUEL PKEVENTED. 
 
 An indefatigable collector of " rusty 
 sayed saws" was in the habit of jot- 
 ting down any saying new to him on 
 the back of cards, letters, &c., and 
 thrusting them into his pocket. On 
 one occasion he had an altercation 
 with a stranger- at a friend's house. 
 
 The quarrel becoming warm, ended by 
 the collector excitedly handing the 
 other (as he thought) his card. On 
 the gentleman's preparing to vindicate 
 his honour next morning, it occurred 
 to him to learn the name of his anta- 
 gonist. On looking at the card he 
 found no name, but, in place of it, 
 traced in good legible characters, 
 " Naething should be done in a hurry 
 but catching fleas." The effect of 
 this was irresistible, and the result an 
 immediate reconciliation. 
 
 CIVIC ENJOTMENT. 
 
 In 1800, on November 8, the usual 
 festivities were kept up with great 
 spirit at the Mansion-house, it being 
 the day of the Lord Mayor (Combe) 
 retiring from office, and the assump- 
 tion of its duties by his successor, Sir 
 William Staines. The honest knight 
 loved his pipe, and was accordingly 
 indulged with one. In yielding up 
 his place and honours to him, the late 
 chief magistrate. Combe, had the good 
 nature to share in the humour of his 
 successor; and they were observed, 
 after dinner, lighting their pipes at 
 one candle, like the Duke of Backing- 
 ham's two Kings of Brentford, smelling 
 at one nosegay. 
 
 Alderman Boydell, when he lived 
 at the corner of Ironmonger-lane, in 
 Cheapside, had a strange mode of 
 refreshing himself on the morning 
 after a civic feast : leaving his shop, 
 he would go to the pump in Iron- 
 monger-lane, and there taking off 
 his wig, place his bare head beneath 
 the cooling stream. 
 
 SLIGHT MISTAKE. 
 
 In a party of theatrical critics, the 
 merits of different performers in the 
 part of Giles, in the melodrama of the 
 Miller's Maid, formed the topic of 
 discussion ; and it was observed that, 
 with one exception, all who had at- 
 tempted it had " overstepped the 
 modesty of nature." One of the 
 
56 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 company observed, that this had, pro- 
 bably, arisen from a confusion of 
 names ; and that the actor alluded to, 
 in attempting Oiks, had strayed into 
 Oiles Overreach. 
 
 CTJIIING DISTINCTION. 
 
 Mr. Munden and Mr. C went 
 
 one Sunday to Windsor, to see the 
 King. They passed with other spec- 
 tators once or twice : at last, his late 
 Majesty distinguished Munden in the 
 crowd, and called him to him. After 
 treating him with cordial familiarity, 
 the King said, "And, pray, who is 
 that with you?" Munden, with 
 many congees and contortions of face, 
 replied, "An' please your Majesty, 
 
 it's Mr. C , of the Theatre Koyal, 
 
 Drury-lane." — " Oh ! yes," said the 
 King, "I know him well — a bad 
 actor, a bad actor, a bad actor!" 
 Why kings should repeat what they 
 say three times, is odd ; their saying 
 it once is quite enough — and so 
 thought Mr. C . 
 
 EUSSIAN OTHELLO. 
 
 In a theatrical journal of 1829, we 
 read the following ludicrous account 
 of the first performance of Shak- 
 speare's Othello in St. Petersburg. 
 Othello appeared in a military cocked 
 hat, Russian boots, and something 
 over his shoulders more resembling a 
 Roman toga than any other theatrical 
 apparel. The senators all wore large 
 helmets and sandals. Cassio appeared 
 to be drinking with a mixed company 
 in a tavern, when lago enters and 
 sings a song, the subject of which is, 
 that Englishmen can never fight till 
 they have eaten roast beef, and drank 
 sufficient to make them insensible of 
 what they are doing. lago and 
 Ciissio then danced a mock minuet, 
 when Cassio sung a song, and the 
 other characters joined in chorus. In 
 the fight which took place between 
 
 Cassio and Roderigo, the seat of the 
 latter was pierced first by Cassio and 
 then by lago. Roderigo, after about 
 half a dozen somersets (after the style 
 of Grimaldi), tumbled down at the back 
 of the stage. A wheelbarrow was then 
 brought on the stage, guarded by a 
 file of soldiers, into which were 
 placed both Cassio and Roderigo, and 
 wheeled off. Othello smothered 
 Desdemona with a pillow at least six 
 feet in length. Emilia then came 
 running in, pursued by her husband 
 with a naked sword in his hand, who, 
 aiming at his wife, struck Othello, and 
 both immediately fell to fighting; 
 when lago was mortally wounded, 
 and driven off in the same barrow 
 which conveyed away Cassio and 
 Roderigo. Othello then rushed to 
 the back of the stage, and, after im- 
 printing a few kisses on the cheek of 
 his murdered wife, fell on his sword, 
 and then died. 
 
 ODD PKOMPTINe. 
 
 In the theatrical journal just quoted 
 we read : " The gallery folks at Man- 
 chester have a singular mode of ex- 
 pressing their disapprobation : they 
 never hiss, but whistle when they 
 disapprove of a performer or perform- 
 ance. It is also very common for 
 three or four persons to be provided 
 with a book of the performance ; and 
 when, as it sometimes happens, the 
 play acted is not the same edition that 
 these censors may be in possession of, 
 they roar out to the actor or actress 
 not to skip, but to deliver the pas- 
 sages as they stand in the book. On 
 one occasion, during the performance 
 of the Merchant of Venice, the book 
 and a tin lantern were stretched from 
 the gallery at the end of a long pole, 
 that the performer might see tiie cn-or 
 which she had just committed in the 
 part of Jessica." 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 57 
 
 Strange Occurrences. 
 
 Lost and Found. — Mr. Thorns, in 
 Notes and Queries, 2nd S., No. 305, re- 
 lates the foUowing : " On Friday, Aug. 
 2, 1861, being anxious to witness the 
 Eton and Westminster boat-race, [ 
 ■went down by Richmond train to 
 Barnes, and walked from thence to 
 the water-side, opposite Cliiswick Ait. 
 On reaching the river, to my great 
 disappointment, I found that both the 
 eye-pieces of a double iield-glass had 
 come off, and that one of them was 
 lost ; the other was in the breast- 
 pocket of my coat, where I had carried 
 the glass. My daughters, who were 
 with me, and myself, searched for the 
 missing eye-piece and glass for some 
 time, but without success. Recol- 
 lecting that I had used the glass while 
 in the railway carriage, I called a day 
 or two afterwards at the South- Wes- 
 tern station, in hopes that it might 
 have been found, but was again dis- 
 appointed. I then took the glass to 
 Mr. Bland, the optician, of Fleet- 
 street, from whom I had purchased 
 it, for the purpose of having another 
 eye-piece fitted to it. On calling, in 
 the course of a week or ten days, and 
 asking if the glass was ready, Mr. 
 Bland replied : ' Yes, and I think you 
 will say we have made a very good 
 job of it.' I tried the glass, and said, 
 ' Yes, it seems to me just as good as 
 ever.' 'I have no doubt it is,' he 
 replied, smiling, 'for it is the same 
 eye-piece that you lost. Upon send- 
 ing the glass to the person whom we 
 employed to repair it, he said he should 
 have no difficulty, for that he had got 
 the missing eye-piece. A man, who 
 had picked it up by the river-side a 
 few days before, had brought it to 
 Mm for sale.' Now, when we con- 
 
 sider the j'llace at which the glass was 
 lost, the number of persons, out of 
 the three million of Londoners, by 
 whom it might have been found, and 
 the chances that if found by one who 
 would think of selling it, that the 
 finder would take it to the very indi- 
 vidual to whom the defective glass 
 would afterwards be sent for the pur- 
 pose of being repaired, is a most 
 extraordinai-y coincidence." 
 
 Some years before the drainage of 
 the Great Haarlem Lake, Mr. Van 
 Notten, a gentleman of Amsterdam, 
 was one of a party fishing for perch 
 upon the lake, when he chanced to 
 drop his ring, which fell into the water, 
 and was deemed to be lost for ever. 
 Several years had elapsed, and the 
 drainage of the lake was proceeding 
 fast, when Mr. Van Notten was ap- 
 prized that a ring had been found in 
 the newly-reclaimed grounds . Though 
 very doubtful of the pos.sibility of its 
 being his lost property, he inquired, 
 taking with him an impression of his 
 arms in seaKng-wax, to prove, if 
 required, the identity of the seal. 
 And hardly had he presented this 
 proof to the gentleman in whose 
 keeping the ring was, before he heard 
 the welcome reply : " Sir, I do not 
 require any further proof; there is 
 the ring ; it is your own." 
 
 A gentleman, on his way from Epsom 
 races, dropped a half-sovereign in the 
 road just before reaching the toll-gate 
 at Merton. As the horseman was in 
 the endless line of persons returning 
 from the races, it was useless to think 
 of dismounting, to pick up the coin ; 
 but early next morning, he left West- 
 minster, and rode to the spot where 
 he had dropped the half-sovereign. 
 
68 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 ■which he there found shining in the 
 roadway, uncovered with dust, al- 
 though thousands of persons on horse- 
 back, and vehicles of almost every 
 description must have passed over the 
 very spot where the coin lay. 
 
 The Shark. — In the United Service 
 Museum, Whitehall-yard, are exhi- 
 bited "the jaws of a shark," wide 
 open, and inclosing a tin box. The 
 history of this strange exhibition is 
 as follows :— A ship, on her way to 
 the West Indies, fell in with and 
 chased a suspicious looking craft, 
 which had all the appearance of a 
 slaver. During the pursuit, the chase 
 threw something overboard. She was 
 subsequently captured, and taken into 
 Port Royal to be tried, as a slaver. 
 In absence of the ship's papers, and 
 other proofs, the slaver was not only 
 in a fair way to escape condemnation, 
 but her captain was anticipating the 
 recovery of pecuniary damages against 
 his captor for illegal detention. While 
 the subject was under discussion, a 
 vessel came into port, which had fol- 
 lowed closely in the track of the chase 
 above described. She had caught a 
 shark ; and in its stomach was found 
 a tin box, which contained the slaver's 
 papers. Upon the strength of this 
 evidence, the slaver was condemned. 
 The written account is attached to 
 the box. 
 
 The Card. — A. B. was present while 
 some tricks in cards were being exhi- 
 bited by a professed juggler. He took 
 a fresh pack of cards, and directed the 
 company to take out a card from the 
 pack, to replace it, and shuffle the 
 pack. This being done, A. B. took 
 the pack in his hand, and cai'elessly 
 tossed on the table a card, which 
 proved to be the correct one. Tlie pro- 
 fessor, in the utmost surprise and ad- 
 miration, offered to give A. B. three 
 of his best tricks if he would give 
 him the secret of the trick which he 
 had just exhibited. A. B. coolly de- 
 clined the offer, and oommunicated the 
 
 fact that it was all chance, in the purest 
 sense of the word, that led to the 
 selection of the proper card from the 
 pack. 
 
 Recovery of Tlate. — Mr. Angerstein, 
 many years ago, had a large quantity 
 of plate stolen. His butler was soon 
 on the track of the thieves, (who had 
 brought a coach to carry off the plate,) 
 and inquired at the first turnpike-gate 
 whether any vehicle had lately passed 
 through. The gate-keeper repHed 
 that a haekney-coach had shortly 
 before gone through ; and though he 
 was surprised at its passing by so 
 early in the morning, he had not 
 noticed the number on the coach. A 
 servant-girl, hearing the conversation, 
 volunteered her statement, that she 
 saw the coach pass by, and its number 
 was " 45." As the girl could not 
 read, they were surprised at her know- 
 ing the number. She stated that she 
 knew it well, as being the same number 
 that she had long seen about the walls 
 every where, which she knew was "45," 
 as every one was speaking of it. This 
 allusion of the girl's was in reference 
 to the Wilkes disturbani,3, when the 
 45th number of the True Brilon was 
 prosecuted, and caused a good deal of 
 excitement. Mr. Angerstein's butler 
 went at once to London and found 
 out the driver of the hackney-coach 
 No. 45, who at once drove him to the 
 place where the plate was deposited, 
 and where it was all recovered. 
 
 Mrs. Stephens. — Iyl 1739, Mrs. 
 Joanna Stephens, of Brook-green, 
 Hammersmith, professed to have re- 
 ceived from her husband a medicine 
 for dissolving " the stone in the blad- 
 der," and olTered to dispose of her 
 secret to the Government. In order 
 to test the virtue of this nostrum, a 
 patient was selected who had unde- 
 niably the complaint in question. He 
 took the medicine, and was soon quite 
 well. The doctors watched him 
 anxiously ; and when he died, many 
 years after, he was seized by them. 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 59 
 
 and the body examined. It was then 
 discovered that the stone had made 
 for itself a little sac in the bladder, 
 and was so tightly secured that it had 
 never caused any inconvenience. Go- 
 vernment, however (somewhat pre- 
 maturely), rewarded Mrs. Stephens 
 with 5000^. The cure appeared to 
 have been purely accidental, as the 
 remedy was nothijig but potash, which 
 has little or no virtue in such cases. 
 
 The Snipe. — A. was walking with a 
 friend near Oxford, when a snipe rose 
 within shot. They both " presented" 
 their walking-sticks at the bird, re- 
 marking what a pretty shot it would 
 have been for a gun. The snipe flew 
 on a short distance, then towered, and 
 fell dead. When examined, the bird 
 was found to be uninjured; but a 
 closerexamination discovered the trace 
 of a former injury, which led to the 
 rupture of a blood-vessel. If, instead 
 of a walking-stick, a gun had been 
 presented and discharged at the bird, 
 no one would have ventured to doubt 
 that the death of the bird was due to 
 the gun. 
 
 Elizabeth Smith. — Upon the death 
 of a seaman, some money being pay- 
 able to his widow, Elizabeth Smith, 
 No. 20 of a certain (say " King") 
 street, Wapping, the Government 
 agent called at 20, King-street, and 
 fijading that Elizabeth Smith lived 
 there, paid the money, without further 
 inquiry. Subsequently, the true 
 widow, Elizabeth Smith, turned up ; 
 and it was then discovered that, at 
 the very time the money was paid, 
 the street was being renumbered, and 
 there were two houses numbered 20 ; 
 and that, what was most remarkable, 
 there was an Elizabeth Smith living 
 in each of them. 
 
 The Abscess. — A young officer in 
 the army of the famous Wolfe was 
 apparently dying of an abscess in the 
 lungs. He was absent from his 
 regiment on sick-leave ; but resolved 
 to rejoin it when a battle was expected. 
 
 "Eor," said he, "since I am given 
 over, I had better be doing my duty ; 
 and my life's being perhaps shortened 
 a few days matters not." He received 
 a shot which pierced the abscess, and 
 made an opening for the discharge. 
 He recovered, and lived to the age of 
 eighty. 
 
 The Aerolite. — Two men in Prance 
 took shelter in a barn for the night. 
 In the morning, one of them was 
 found dead, with severe injury to his 
 head. The comrade was at once ar- 
 rested, and told some " cock-and-bull" 
 story about the terrible storm of the 
 night in question, and attributed his 
 companion's death to the effect of a 
 thunderbolt. He was not credited, 
 and was in a fair way to be executed 
 for the supposed crime. A scientific 
 gentleman, hearing of the circum- 
 stance, exammed the place, and found 
 a hole in the roof of the barn, and an 
 aerolite close to the spot where the 
 deceased had slept on the night in 
 question. The innocence of the ac- 
 cused was at once considered as estab- 
 hshed, and he was released. 
 
 THE WONDEKPUl STORY OE BANKHS'S 
 HOKSE. 
 
 In the year 1600, a middle-sized 
 bay English gelding, the property of 
 Bankes, a servant to the Earl of 
 Essex, and a vintner in Cheapside, 
 ascended to the top of St. Paul's, to 
 the delight, it is said by Dekker, of a 
 "number of asses" who brayed below. 
 Bankes had taught his horse, which 
 went by the name of Marocco, to 
 count, and perform a variety of feats. 
 " Certainly, " says Walter Raleigh, 
 in his History, "if Bankes had lived 
 in older times he would have shamed 
 all the enchanters of the world; for 
 whosoever was most famous among 
 them could never master or instruct 
 any beast as he did his horse." When 
 the novelty had somewhat lessened in 
 London, Bankes took his wonderful 
 beast, iirst to Paris, and afterwards to 
 
CO 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 Eome. He had better have stayed at 
 home, for both he and his horse (which 
 was shod with silver) were burnt for 
 witchcraft. Shakspeare alluded to 
 ■" the dancing horse" in Love's Labour 
 Jjost ; and in a tract called Maroccus 
 Extaticus, qto. 1595, there is a rude 
 woodcut of the unfortunate juggler 
 and his famous gelding. 
 
 EXEOTJTION or LOED PEEEEES. 
 
 In January, 1760, Earl Ferrers, 
 while residing at his seat, Staunton 
 Haroourt, in Leicestershire, murdered 
 Johnson, his steward, in the most bar- 
 barous and deliberate manner. The 
 Earl had been separated by Parlia- 
 ment from his wife, a very pretty 
 woman, whom he married with no 
 fortune, for the most groundless bar- 
 barity, and then killed his steward for 
 having been evidence for her. "He 
 sent away all his servants but one," 
 says Walpole, "and, like that heroic 
 murderess, Queen Christina, carried 
 the poor man through a gallery and 
 several rooms, locking them after him, 
 and then bid the man kneel down, for 
 he was determined to kill him. The 
 poor creature flung himself at his feet, 
 Wt in vain; was shot, and lived 
 twelve hours. Mad as this action was 
 from the consequences, there was no 
 frenzy in his behaviour ; he got drunk, 
 and at intervals talked of it coolly; 
 but did not attempt to escape, till the 
 colhers beset his house, and were de- 
 termined to take him alive or dead. 
 He is now in the gaol at Leicester, 
 and will soon be removed to the Tower, 
 then to Westminster Hall, and I sup- 
 pose to Tower Hill ; unless, as Lord 
 Talbot prophesied, in the House of 
 Lords, 'Not being thought mad 
 enough to be shut up, till he had 
 killed somebody, lie will then be 
 thought too mad to be executed ;' but 
 Lord Talbot was no more honoured 
 in his vocation than other prophets 
 are in their own country." 
 
 Lord Eerrers was tried by his peers 
 
 in Westminster Hall, and found guilty; 
 he was condemned to be hanged, and 
 to the mortification of the peerage, to 
 be anatomised, according to tlie tenor 
 of the new Act of Parliament for 
 murder. The night he received the 
 sentence he played at picquet with the 
 Tower warders, would play for money, 
 and would have contmued to play 
 every evening, but they refused. The 
 governor of the Tower shortened his 
 allowance of wine after his conviction, 
 agreeably to the late strict acts on 
 murder. This he much disliked, and 
 at last pressed his brother, the cler- 
 gyman, to intercede, that, at least, he 
 might have more porter ; for, said he, 
 what I have is not a draught. His 
 brother protested against it, but at 
 last consenting (and he did obtain it), 
 then said the Earl, " Now is as good 
 a time as any to take leave of you — 
 adieu !" 
 
 On the last morning. May 6, he 
 dressed himself in his wedding-clothes, 
 and said he thouglit this at least as 
 good an occasion for putting them on 
 as that for which they were first made. 
 He wore them to Tybarn : this marked 
 the strong impression on his mind. 
 His courage rose on the occasion : 
 even an awful procession of above two 
 hours, with that mixture of pageantry, 
 shame, and ignominy, nay, and of 
 delay, could not dismount his resolu- 
 tion. He set out from the Tower at 
 nine, amidst crowds, thousands. First 
 went a string of constables ; then one 
 of the sheriffs in his chariot and six, 
 the horses dressed with ribbons ; next, 
 Lord Ferrers, in his own landau* and 
 six, his coachman crying all the way ; 
 guards at each side; the other sheriff's 
 carriage following empty, with a 
 mourning coach and six, a hearse, and 
 the Horse Guards. Observe, that the 
 
 * The carriage wrfs, after the execution, 
 driven to Acton, and there placed in the 
 coach-house, was never again used, but re- 
 mained there until it fell to pieces. The 
 Earl's wife was burned to death in 1807. 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 61 
 
 empty ctariot was that of the other 
 sheriff, who was in the landau with the 
 prisoner, and who was Vaillant, the 
 French bookseller, in the Strand. 
 Lord Ferrers at first talked on in- 
 different matters, and observing the 
 prodigious confluence of people (tlie 
 blind was drawn up on his side), he 
 said — "But they never saw a lord 
 hanged, and perhaps will never see 
 another." One of the dragoons was 
 thrown by his horse's leg entangling 
 in the hind-wheel : Lord Ferrers ex- 
 pressed much concern, and said, "I 
 nope there will be no death to-day but 
 mine," and was pleased when Vaillant 
 told him the man was not hui-t. Vail- 
 lant made excuses to him on the office. 
 " On the contrary," said the Earl, " I 
 am much obliged to you. I feared 
 the disagreeableness of the duty might 
 make you depute your under-sheriff. 
 As you are so good as to execute it 
 yourself, I am persuaded the dreadful 
 apparatus will be conducted with 
 more expedition." The chaplain of 
 the Tower, who sat backwards, then 
 thought it his turn to speak, and be- 
 gan to talk on religion ; but Lord 
 Ferrers received it impatiently. 
 
 Meanwhile, the procession was 
 stopped by the crowd. The Earl said he 
 was thirsty, and wished for some wine 
 and water. The Sheriff refused him. 
 " Then," said the Earl, " I must be 
 content with this," and took some 
 pigtail tobacco out of his pocket. As 
 they drew nigh he said, " I perceive 
 we are almost arrived ; it is time to 
 do what little more I have to do ;" 
 and then taking out his watch, gave 
 it to VaiUant, desiring him to accept 
 it as a mark of gratitude for his kind 
 behaviour, adding, " It is scarce 
 worth your acceptance; but I have 
 nothing else ; it is a stop watch, and 
 a pretty accurate one." He gave 
 five guineas to the chaplain, and took 
 out as much for the executioner. 
 Then giving Vaillant a pocket-book, 
 he begged him to deliver it to Mrs. 
 
 Clifford, his mistress, with what it 
 contained. 
 
 When they came to Tyburn, the 
 coach was detamed some minutes by 
 tlie conflux of the people; but as 
 soon as the door was opened. Lord 
 Ferrers stepped out, and mounted the 
 scaffold : it was hung with black by 
 the undertaker, and at the expense of 
 his family. Under the gallows was a 
 new invented stage, to be struck from 
 beneath him. He showed no kind of 
 fear or discomposure, only just looking 
 at the gallows with a slight motion of 
 dissatisfaction. He spokelittle, kneeled 
 for a moment to the prayer, said, 
 " Lord, have mercy upon me, and for- 
 give me my errors," and immediately 
 mounted the upper stage. He had 
 come pinioned with a black sash, and 
 was unwilling to have his hands tied, 
 or his face covered, but was persuaded 
 to both. When the rope was put 
 upon his neck, he turned pale, but 
 recovered his countenance instantly, 
 and was but seven minutes from leav- 
 ing the coach to the signal given for 
 striking the stage. As the machine 
 was new, they were not ready at it ; 
 his toes touched it, and he suffered a 
 little, having had time, by their bun- 
 gling, to raise his cap ; but the exe- 
 cutioner pulled it down again, and 
 they puUed his legs, so that he was 
 soon out of pain, and quite dead in 
 four minutes. He desired not to be 
 stripped and exposed; and Vaillant 
 promised him, though his clothes must 
 be taken off, that his shirt should not. 
 The decency ended with him : the 
 sheriffs fell to eating and drinking on 
 the scaffold, and helped up one of 
 their friends to drink with them, as 
 he was still hanging, which he did for 
 above an hour, and then was conveyed 
 back with the said pomp to Surgeons' 
 Hall, to be dissected : there is a print 
 of " Lord Ferrers, as he lay in his 
 coffin at Surgeons' Hall." The exe- 
 cutioners fought for the rope, and the 
 one who lost it cried. The mob tore 
 
62 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 off the black cloth as relics; "but,"' 
 says Walpole, "the universal crowd 
 behaved with great decency and ad- 
 miration, as well theymight ; forsureno 
 exit was ever made with more sensible 
 resolution, and with less ostentation." 
 
 Earl Ferrers had petitioned George 
 the Second tliat he might die by the 
 axe. This was refused. ■ " He has 
 done," said the old Kin" " de act of 
 de bad man, and he shall die de death 
 of de bad man." One luxury, how- 
 ever. Lord Ferrers is reported to 
 have secured for the last hour of his 
 life — a siiken rope. 
 
 The night before his death, he made 
 one of his keepers read Hamlet to him, 
 after he was in bed : he paid all his 
 bills in the morning, as if leaving an 
 inn ; and half an hour before the 
 sheriffs fetched him, corrected some 
 Latin verses he had written in the 
 Tower, in imitation of the Duke of 
 Buckingham's Bubius, sed non impro- 
 bus vixi. 
 
 EXECUTION OP DR. DODD. 
 
 "The unfortunate Dr. Dodd," as 
 he was called, strictly speaking, de- 
 served little of the public sympathy 
 which he received. Gifted with 
 showy oratorical power, he shone in 
 London, when a young man, as a 
 popular preacher. George III. made 
 iim his chaplain in ordinary, and he 
 was appointed tutor to the future 
 Earl of Chesterfield. After a series 
 of indiscretions, he fled to the Conti- 
 nent for a time, then returned to Eng- 
 land, and seemed in a fair way to 
 recover his lost popularity. In 1776, 
 a chapel was built for him in Char- 
 lotte-street, Buckingham-gate: "Great 
 success attended the undertaking," 
 writes Dodd; " it pleased and it elated 
 me." In this promising state of 
 things, Dodd committed his last fatal 
 act. Importuned by • creditors, he 
 forged a bond upon his old pupil, now 
 Lord Chesterfield, for 4200/. By a 
 curious train of circumstances, the 
 
 forgery was detected ; and Dodd was 
 arrested, brought to trial, and sen- 
 tenced to death. Powerful exertions 
 were made for his pardon : petitions, 
 with upwards of 20,000 signatures, 
 were addressed to the King; a cry 
 was raised for his respite, for the 
 credit of the clergy ; but it was an- 
 swered that if the honour of the clergy 
 was tarnished, it was by Dodd's crime 
 and not by his punishment. He ap- 
 pealed to Dr. Johnson for his inter- 
 cession, and Johnson, compassionately, 
 drew up a petition of Dr. Dodd to 
 the King, and of Mrs. Dodd to the 
 Queen ; he wrote The Convicfs Address 
 to his Unhappy Brethren, a sermon 
 which Dr. Dodd delivered in the chapel 
 of Newgate; also. Dr. Dodd's Last 
 Solemn Declaration, and other docu- 
 ments and letters to people in power ; 
 all without effect. The King was 
 inclined to mercy ; but the law was 
 allowed to take its course ; and on the 
 27th of June, 1777, Dodd was con- 
 veyed, along with another malefactor, 
 in an open cart, from Newgate to 
 Tyburn, and there hanged, in the 
 presence of an immense crowd. A 
 friend of George Selwyn (who de- 
 lighted in witnessing executions) has 
 thus described the exit : 
 
 "Upon the whole, the piece was 
 not very full of events. The Doctor, 
 to all appearances, was rendered per- 
 fectly stupid from despair. His hat 
 was flapped all round, and pulled over 
 his eyes, which were never directed to 
 any object around, nor ever raised, 
 except now and then lifted up in the 
 course of his prayers. He came in a 
 coach, and a very heavy shower of 
 rain fell just' upon his entering the 
 cart, and another just at his putting 
 on his nightcap. During the 
 shower, an umbrella was held over 
 his head, which Gilly Williams, who 
 was present, observed was quite 
 unnecessary, as the Doctor was going 
 to a place where he might be dried. 
 * * * * « 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 63 
 
 " The executioner took botli the 
 Doctor's hat and wig ofP at the same 
 time. Why he put on his wig again, 
 I do not know, but he did ; and the 
 Doctor took off his wig a second time, 
 and tied on a niglitcap, which did 
 not fit him ; but whether he stretched 
 that, or took another, I could not 
 perceive. He then put on his night- 
 cap himself, and upon his taking it, 
 he certainly had a smile on his coun- 
 tenance, and very soon afterwards, 
 there was an end of all his hopes and 
 fears on this side the grave. He 
 never moved from the place he first 
 took in the cart ; seemed absorbed in 
 despair, and utterly dejected ; without 
 any other signs of animation, but in 
 praying. I stayed until he was cut 
 down, and put into the hearse :" the 
 body was hurried to the house of 
 Davies, an undertaker, in Goodge- 
 street, Tottenham-court-road, where 
 it was placed in a hot bath, and every 
 exertion made to restore life — but in 
 
 HOW TO CATCH WILD DUCKS. 
 
 It win scarcely be credited that the 
 following piece of foolery is to be 
 found in one of the volumes of the 
 Transactions of the Royal Society of 
 London. The method is as follows : 
 " Procure an earthen pot, or jar, that 
 win come on upon your head, so as 
 to cover it completely ; cut two holes 
 in it for the advantage of seeing, and 
 then fjistening it about your neck with 
 a bandage, take off your clothes, and 
 walk into the river where the ducks 
 are ; take care to enter above them 
 in the stream, and to skulk down in 
 such a manner, that only your head, 
 thus covered with the pot, be above 
 water; thus move softly down to 
 them, as if carried by the current, 
 and they wiU. only take the jar 
 for something, loose floating on the 
 water. When you are among the 
 thickest of them, take one by the 
 legs, and pull it under water, then 
 
 seize upon another in the same man- 
 ner, and so on till you have taken the 
 whole covey; and then march out 
 
 A. LAEGE BAUH AND A TEBMENDOTJS 
 THEESHINfi-. 
 
 Cholsey Barn, in Berkshire, was 
 one of the tithe-barns where the 
 monks of Abingdon gathered their 
 share of the harvest. The abbey is 
 gone; but the barn stands yet, a 
 monster in brick, 303 feet long, 54 
 wide, and 51 high. On a small tablet 
 near one of the doors you may read, 
 — "In this barn John Lanesley 
 threshed, for Mr. Joseph Hopkins, 
 five quarters seven bushels of wheat 
 in thirteen hours, on March 15th, 
 1747." Worthy deed to be done in 
 the monster barn. Was there ever 
 so huge a barn, or so tremendous a 
 thresher ! But there is no question 
 of the fact. John Lanesley lived 
 some years into the present century, 
 and earned full labourer's waees till 
 he was ninety-two years old; Ke, and 
 the Hopkins' family, who were still 
 tenants of the farm, vouched for the 
 truth of the story to Lysons, who 
 records it. — London. Review. 
 
 sweeps' holiday AT MONTAGUE 
 HOUSE. 
 
 The origin of the Sweeps' Holiday on 
 May-day is well known to be owing 
 to the discovery of the eccentric 
 Edward Wortley Montague, (son of 
 the famous Lady Mary W. M. by her 
 husband Edward Wortley,) among 
 the fraternity of chimney-sweeps. 
 This hopeful boy was born at 
 Whamcliffe Lodge,in Yorkshire, about 
 the year 1714, and at a proper period 
 was sent to Westminster school for 
 his education, from which he ran 
 away three several times ; and on one 
 of these flights, he changed clothes 
 with a chimney-sweeper, and for some 
 time followed that occupation. After 
 a long, painful, and anxious search, he 
 was discovered and restored to his 
 
64 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 parents on the 1st of May, at the 
 family mansion of the Montagues in 
 Portman-square. Young Montague, 
 however, was not yet satisfied with 
 roving : he next attached himself to a 
 fisherman, and cried flounders in 
 Rotherhithe ; then saUed as a cabin- 
 hoy to Spain, where he soon deserted 
 the vessel and hired himself as an 
 assistant mule-driver ! He subse- 
 quently served an apprenticeship 
 among a travelling troop of showmen, 
 who were distinguished by their skill 
 in horsemanship ; then worked in the 
 fields iu Holland as a day-labourer ; 
 next hired himself as a postillion ; he 
 then assumed the attire of an abbot, 
 and passed for one at Rome. He 
 next passed for a Lutheran preacher 
 at Hamburg, and was universally 
 popular ! He subsequently embraced 
 the Mahomedan religion, and con- 
 formed to all the Turkish habits, even 
 to chewing opium and sitting cross- 
 legged on the floor ! With the 
 Hebrew, the Arabic, the Persian, and 
 the Chaldaic he was as well ac- 
 quainted as with his native tongue. 
 He at one time returned to England, 
 and acted more conformably to his 
 rank, and was returned as a member 
 in two successive parliaments. But 
 his profuse expenses soon compelled 
 him to quit his native country, and he 
 again resumed his wandering habits, 
 and eventually died in Italy at the age 
 of sixty-two years. 
 
 To commemorate the restoration of 
 the truant to his family, in the 
 grounds attached to Montague 
 House, at the north-west angle of 
 Portman-square, his mother, Mrs. 
 Elizabeth Montague, for many years 
 feasted the chimney-sweepers of Lon- 
 don, on the 1st of May, with roast- 
 beef and plum-pudding, "so that 
 they might enjoy one happy day m the 
 year." And this special treat is said 
 to have given rise to the general 
 sweeps' hoUday. Mrs. Montague 
 died in the year 1800. 
 
 THE CLOCK GIANTS, IN PLEET-STKEET. 
 
 The former church of St. Dunstan- 
 in-the-West, Fleet-street, within 
 memory possessed one of London's 
 wonders : it had a large gilt dial 
 overhanging the street, and above it 
 two figures of savages, life-size, 
 carved in wood, and standing beneath 
 a pediment, each having in his right 
 hand a club, with which he struck 
 the quarters upon a suspended bell, 
 moving his head at the same time. 
 To see the men strike was considered 
 very attractive; and opposite St. 
 Dunstan's was a famous field for 
 pickpockets, who took advantage of 
 the gaping crowd. So it had long 
 been ; for Ned Ward, in his London 
 Sjiy, says : " We added to the number 
 of fools, and stood a little, making our 
 ears do penance to please our eyes, 
 with the conceited notion of their (the 
 puppets') heads and hands, which 
 moved to and fro with as much deli- 
 berate stifi'ness as the two wooden 
 horologists at St. Dunstan's when 
 they strike the quarters." 
 
 These figures and the clock were 
 put up in 1671. Among those who 
 were struck by their oddity was the 
 third Marquis of Hertford, born in 
 1777: "When a child, and a good 
 child, his nurse, to reward him, would 
 take him to see the giants at St. 
 Dunstan's ; and he used to say that 
 when he grew to be a man he would 
 buy those giants" (Cunningham's 
 Handbook of London). Many a child 
 of rich parents may have used the 
 same words ; but in the present case 
 the Marquis kept his word. When 
 the old church of St, Dunstan was 
 taken down, in 1830, Lord Hertford 
 attended the second auction sale of 
 the materials, and purchased the 
 clock, bells, and figures for 200/. ; he 
 had them placed at the entrance to 
 the grounds of his villa in the 
 Regent's Park, thence called St. 
 Dunstan's Villa ; and here the figures 
 do duty to the present day. 
 
GOOD TEINGS. 
 
 65 
 
 THE BOTTLE CONJUROE. 
 
 This foolish experiment on the cre- 
 dulity of the public is said to have 
 originated as follows : — The Duke of 
 Montague being in company with 
 some other noblemen, proposed a 
 wager, that let a man advertize to do 
 the most impossible thing in the 
 world, he would find fools enough in 
 London to fill a playhouse, who would 
 think him in earnest. " Surely," said 
 Lord Chesterfield, "if a man should 
 say that he would jump into a quart 
 bottle, nobody would oelieve that !" 
 The Duke was somewhat staggered ; 
 but for the sake of the jesi, deter- 
 mined to make the experiment. 
 Accordingly, it was advertized that 
 the next day, (Jan. 10, 1749,) a 
 person would, at the Haymarket 
 Theatre, " play on a common walking- 
 cane the music of every instrument 
 then used, to surprising perfection; 
 that he would, on the stage, get into a 
 tavern quart bottle, without equivo- 
 cation, and while there, sing several 
 songs, and sufl^er any spectator to 
 handle the bottle ; that if any spec- 
 tator should come masked, he would, 
 if requested, declare who he was; 
 and that, in a private room, he would 
 produce the representation of any 
 person dead, with which the person 
 requesting it should converse some 
 minutes, as if alive." The prices of 
 admission were — gallery, 2s. ; pit, 
 3s. ; boxes, 5s. ; stage. Is. 6d. 
 
 At night the house was crowded 
 with curious people, many of them of 
 the highest rank, including no less 
 eminent a person than the Gulloden 
 Duke of Cumberland. They sat for a 
 little while with tolerable patience, 
 though unoheered with music; but by 
 and by, the performer not appearing, 
 signs of irritation were evinced. In 
 answer to the continued noise of sticks 
 and catcalls, a person belonging to the 
 theatre came forward and explained 
 that, in the event of a failure of per- 
 formance, the money should be 
 
 returned. A wag then cried out, 
 that, if the ladies and gentlemen 
 would give double prices, the con- 
 juror would go into a pint bottle, 
 which proved too much for the philo- 
 sophy of the audience. A young 
 gentleman threw a lighted candle 
 upon the stage, and a general charge 
 upon that part of the house followed. 
 According to a private letter — it was 
 written by a Scotch Jacobite lady — 
 " Cumberland was the first that flew 
 in a rage, and called to pull down the 
 
 house He drew his sword, 
 
 and was in such a rage, that some- 
 body slipped in behind him and pulled 
 the sword out of his hand, which was 
 as much as to say, ' Tools should not 
 have chopping sticks.' This sword of 
 his has never been heard tell of, nor 
 the person who took it. Thirty 
 guineas of reward are offered for it. 
 Monster of Nature, I am sure I wish 
 he may never get it. 
 
 " The greater part of the audience 
 made their way out of the theatre ; 
 some losing a cloak, others a hat, 
 others a wig, and others, hat, wig, and 
 sword also. One party, however, 
 stayed in the house, in order to 
 demolish the inside ; when, the mob 
 breaking in, they tore up the benches, 
 broke to pieces the scenes, pulled 
 down the boxes, in short dismantled 
 the theatre entirely, carrying away 
 the particulars above mentioned into 
 the street, where they made a mighty 
 bonfire : the curtain being hoisted in 
 the middle of it by way of flag." 
 
 The proprietor of the theatre 
 afterwards stated that, in apprehen- 
 sion of failure, he had reserved all the 
 money taken, in order to give it back ; 
 and he would have returned it to the 
 audience if they would have re- 
 frained from destroying his house. 
 It therefore would appear that either 
 money was not the object aimed at, 
 or, if aimed at, was not attained, by 
 the conjuror. This corroborates the 
 above statement — that the object was 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 ouly to try an experiment on tlie cre- 
 dulity of the public. 
 
 TheBottleHoax proved an excellent 
 subject for the wits, particularly those 
 of the Jacobite party. The following 
 advertisement appeared in the paper 
 called Old England: 
 
 " Pound, entangled in a slit of a 
 lady's demolished smock petticoat, a 
 gilt handled sword of martial temper 
 and length, not much the worse of 
 wearing, with the Spey curiously 
 engraven on one side, and the Scheld 
 on the other ; supposed to be taken 
 from the fat sides of a certain great 
 general in his hasty retreat from the 
 battle of Bottle Noddles in the Hay- 
 market. Whoever has lost it may 
 inquire for it at the sign of the Bird 
 and Singing Land, in Potters' Row." 
 — Gentleman and Scot's Magazine, 
 1749. 
 
 ECCENTMC BUEIALS ON BOX-HILL 
 AND LEITH-HILL. 
 
 As the train passes over pictu- 
 resque Eed-hill, on the London and 
 Brighton Railway, two of the most 
 prominent points in the distance of 
 the charming landscape are Box-hill 
 and Leith-hill, on each of which is 
 interred an eccentric person of note. 
 
 On the north-western brow of Box- 
 hill, Pit a spot long denoted by a 
 wooden sta}ie or stump, is buried 
 Major Peter Labelliere, an officer of 
 Marines, who, during the latter years 
 of his life, resided at Dorking, and in 
 accordance with his own desire was 
 interred here. An early disappoint- 
 ment in love is supposed to have 
 preyed upon his mind, which, at a 
 later period, fanaticism and politics 
 entirely unsettled; yet his eccentri- 
 cities were harmless, and himself the 
 only sufferer. At this time, the Duke 
 of Devonshire,* who had formerly 
 
 * This was tTie conTmal Duke who had 
 abroiledblade-hone of mutton — a relishing 
 Bupper-dish, got ready for him every night, 
 at iJrookes^s clubhouse. 
 
 been fond of his society, allowed him 
 a pension of 100/. a-year for life. He 
 then resided at Ghiswiek, whence he 
 frequently walked to London, fol- 
 lowed by a tribe of ragged boys, 
 whom he delighted to harangue ; his 
 pockets were filled to an overflow with 
 newspapers, and polemical and poli- 
 tical pamphlets. From Ghiswiek he 
 removed to Dorking, where, from his 
 neglect of common cleanliness, he got 
 the nickname of "the walking dung- 
 hill ;" he lived in a mean cottage 
 called " the Hole-in- the-Wall," on 
 Butter-hill. Long prior to his decease, 
 he selected the point of Box-hill as 
 his burial-place, where, in comphance 
 with his often expressed wish, he was 
 deposited with his head downwards, in 
 order, he said, that " as the world 
 was turned topsy-turvy, it was fit 
 that he should be buried so, that he 
 might be right at last." He died 
 June 6, 1800, and was interred on the 
 nth of the same month; great num- 
 bers of people witnessing his inter- 
 ment. His portrait, inscribed, "A 
 Patriot and Citizen of the World," 
 was engraved by H. Kingsbury. 
 
 The interment on Leith-hUl is less 
 characterized by eccentricity than the 
 preceding case of Major Labelliere. 
 In a mansion on the south side of 
 Leith-hiU, in the last century, lived 
 Richard Hull, who, in 1766, with the 
 permission of Sir John Evelyn, of 
 Wotton, built a tower on that part 
 of the summit of Leith-hUl from which 
 the sea is visible, and it became a 
 landmark for mariners. It comprised 
 two rooms, which were handsomely 
 furnished by the founder, for the 
 accommodation of those who resorted 
 thither to enjoy the prospect. Over 
 the entrance was placed a stone with 
 a Latin inscription, specifying the 
 object in building the tower, within 
 vfhich Mr. Hull, by his own direc- 
 tion, was interred ; his epitaph on a 
 marble slab stating that he died Jan- 
 uary 18, 1772, m his 83rd year. He 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 67 
 
 was the oldest bencher of the Inner 
 Temple, and served many years in the 
 Parliament of Ireland. He lived, in 
 his earlier years, in intimacy veith 
 Pope, Trenchard, Bishop Berkeley, 
 and other distinguished men of those 
 times ; "he purchased Leith-hill place 
 for a retirement, where he led the hfe 
 of a true Christian and rural philoso- 
 pher ; and by his particular desire 
 and directions, his remains were here 
 deposited, in a private manner, under 
 this tower, which he had erected a 
 few years before his death.'' 
 
 After the decease of the founder, 
 this structure was neglected for many 
 jesirs, and suffered to fall into ruiu. 
 About 1790, Mr. PhUip W. Perrin, 
 who had purchased Mr. Hull's estate, 
 had the tower thoroughly repaired, 
 and heightened several feet ; but the 
 lower part was filled iu with lime and 
 rubbish, and the entrance walled up, 
 in which condition it now remains. 
 On a very clear day, the spires of 41 
 churches in London have been visible 
 from this spot, which is nearly 1000 
 feet above the level of the sea, visible 
 at more than 30 miles distance. 
 
 CUKIOTTS RELICS A.ND MEMOEIAIS. 
 
 In the Journal des Debats, a few 
 years since, were assembled the fol- 
 lowing examples in illustration of the 
 large sums paid under the relio-and- 
 rarity mania : — The ivory chair which 
 Gustavus Vasa received from the town 
 of Lubeck, was sold, in 1823, for the 
 sum of 58,000 florins — not far short 
 of 6000/. ! The coat worn by Charles 
 the Twelfth, of Sweden, at the battle 
 of Pultawa — preserved by Colonel 
 Rosen, who followed the adventurous 
 monarch to Bender — was sold, in 1825, 
 at Edinburgh, for the sum of 22,000/. 
 sterling ! Tlus anecdote, the French 
 paper, itself, thinks should have con- 
 firmation. M. A. Lenoir, the founder 
 of the French Museum, relates that, 
 during the transport of the remains of 
 Abelard and Heloise to the Petits 
 
 Augustins, an Englishman offered him 
 100,000 francs (4000/.) for one of the 
 teeth of Heloise ! Lord Shaftesbury 
 paid, in 1816, for the tooth of Sir 
 Isaac Newton, 730/. In 1820, the 
 head of Descartes (teeth and all) was 
 absolutely ^i»e» away, as the phrase 
 is, at the sale of Dr. Sourmon's 
 cabinet, for 99 francs. — The following 
 cases are more moderate : — Voltaire's 
 cane was sold, in Paris, for 500 francs 
 (20/.) ; Rousseau's waistcoat for 949 
 francs, and his copper watch for 500. 
 Kant's wig brought only 200 francs ; 
 whereas the wig of Sterne fetched, 
 in London, 200 guineas — 5250 francs ! 
 The hat worn by Napoleon at Eylau 
 was, in 1835, carried off by M. La- 
 croix, from thirty-two competitors, 
 for the sum of 1920 francs — about 
 77/. ; while Sir Francis Burdett paid 
 500/. for the two pens used in the 
 signature of the treaty of Amiens. 
 
 EPFECT OF IMAGINATION. 
 
 Many years ago, a celebrated French 
 physician, author of an excellent work 
 on the effects of Imagination, wished to 
 combine theory with practice, in order 
 to confirm the truth of his proposi- 
 tions. To this end, he begged the 
 Minister of Justice to allow him to 
 try an experiment on a criminal con- 
 demned to death. The minister con- 
 sented, and delivered to him an assas- 
 sin of distinguished rank. Our savant 
 sought the culprit, and thus addressed 
 him : — " Sir, several persons who are 
 interested in your family have pre- 
 vailed on the judge not to require of 
 you to mount the scaffold, and expose 
 yourself to the gaze of the populace. 
 He has therefore commuted your 
 sentence, and sanctions your being 
 bled to death within the precincts of 
 your prison ; your dissolution will be 
 gradual, and free from pain." 
 
 The criminal submitted to his fate ; 
 thought his family would be less dis- 
 graced, and considered it a favour not 
 to be compelled to walk to the place 
 
68 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 of public execution. He wascoiiduoted 
 to the appointed room, where every 
 preparation was made beforehand; 
 liis eyes were bandaged ; lie was 
 strapped to a table ; and, at a precon- 
 certed signal, four of his veins were 
 gently pricked with the point of a 
 pin. At each corner of the table 
 was a small fountain of water, so 
 contrived as to flow gently into basins 
 j)laced to receive it. The patient 
 believing that it was his blood he 
 heard flowing, gradually became weak; 
 and the conversation of the doctors in 
 an undertone confirmed him in this 
 opinion. 
 
 "What fine blood!" said one. 
 "What a, pity this man should be 
 condemned to die ! he would have 
 lived a long time." 
 
 "Hush!" said the other: then 
 approaching the first, he asked him in 
 a low voice, but so as to be heard by 
 the criminal, "How many pounds of 
 blood are there in the human body ?" 
 
 " Twenty-four. You see already 
 about ten pounds extracted; that man 
 is now in a hopeless state." 
 
 The physicians Ihen receded by 
 degrees, and continued to lower their 
 voices. The stillness which reigned 
 in the apartment, broken only by the 
 dripping fountains, the sound of whicli 
 was also gradually lessened, so afl'ecled 
 the brain of the poor patient, that 
 although a man of veiy strong consti- 
 tution, he fainted, and died without 
 having lost a drop of blood. 
 
 BEST or IHE BAD. 
 
 Holcroft relates a whimsical story 
 of a physician, who, one night hearing 
 lamentable groans and cries, went to 
 search whence they proceeded, and 
 found a man and woman, drunk, thrown 
 «ut of,an overturned cart ; he hastened 
 to a public-house to get aid, and in his 
 care, had them put to bed together ; 
 but, returning the next morning, found 
 the man in a rage at having slept with 
 such a companion; and the woman 
 
 making an intolerable nproar, weeping 
 and reproacliing, asserting that her 
 character was ruined, and that he 
 must and should marry her; which, 
 accordingly, the good-natured man was 
 persuaded to do. 
 
 TBUB GHOST STORY. 
 
 Dr. Fowler, Bishop of Gloucester 
 in the early part of the eighteenth 
 century, was a believer in apparitions. 
 The following conversation of the 
 bishop with Judge Powell is re- 
 corded : — 
 
 " Since I saw you," said the lawyer, 
 " I have had ocular demonstration of 
 the existence of nocturnal appari- 
 tions." 
 
 " I am glad you are become a con- 
 vert to truth ; but, do you say ocular 
 demonstration ? Let me know the 
 particulars of the story." 
 
 "My lord, I will. It was — let me 
 see — last Thursday night, between the 
 hours of eleven and twelve, but nearer 
 tlie latter than the former, as I lay 
 sleeping in my bed, I was suddenly 
 awakened by an uncommon noise, and 
 heard something coming upstairs, 
 and stalking directly towards my 
 room. The door flying open, I drew 
 back my curtain, and saw a faint 
 glimmering light enter my chamber." 
 
 " Of a blue colour, no doubt ?" 
 
 " The light was of a pale blue, my 
 lord, and followed by a tall meagre 
 personage, his locks hoary with age, 
 and clothed in a long loose gown ; a 
 leathern girdle was about his loins, 
 his beard thick and grizzly, a large 
 fur cap on his head, and a long staff 
 in his hand. Struck with astonish- 
 ment, I remained for some time 
 motionless and silent ; the figure ad- 
 vanced, staring me full in the face; 
 I then said, ' Whence and what art 
 thou?'" 
 
 " What was the answer — tell me — 
 what was the answer ?" 
 
 "The following was the answer I 
 received:— 'I am watchman of the 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 69 
 
 night, an't please your honour, and 
 made bold to come upstairs to inform 
 the family of their street-door being 
 open, and that if it was not soon shut, 
 they would probably be robbed before 
 morning.' " 
 
 DEEA.M TESTIMOHT. 
 
 In the year 1698 the Rev. Mr. 
 Smythies, curate of St. Giles, Cripple- 
 gate, published an account of the 
 robbery and murder of a parishioner, 
 Mr. Stockden, by three men, on the 
 night of December 23, 1695, and of 
 the discovery of the culprits by several 
 dreams of Mrs. Greenwood, Mr. 
 Stockden's neighbour. The main 
 points are these : — In the first dream 
 Mr. Stockden showed Mrs. Greenwood 
 a house in Thames-street, telling her 
 that one of the men was there. 
 Thither she went the nest mornmg, 
 accompanied by a female neighbour, 
 and learned that Maynard lodged 
 there, but was then out. In the 
 second dream Mr. Stockden repre- 
 sented Maynard's face to her, with a 
 mole on the side of the nose (he being 
 unknown to Mrs. Greenwood), and 
 also tells her that a wire-drawer must 
 take him into custody. Sach a per- 
 son, an intimate of Maynard's, is 
 found, and ultimately Maynard is ap- 
 prehended. In the third dream Mr. 
 Stockden appeared with a counte- 
 nance apparently displeased, and car- 
 ried her to a house in Old-street 
 where she had never been, and told 
 her that one of the men lodged there. 
 There, as before, she repaired with 
 her friend, and found that Marsh often 
 came there. He had absconded, and 
 was ultimately taken in another place. 
 In the fourth dream Mr. Stockden 
 carried her over the bridge, up the 
 Borough, and into a yard, where she 
 saw Bevil, the third man, and his wife 
 (whom she had never seen before). 
 XJpon her relating this dream, it was 
 thought that it was one of the prison- 
 yards ; and she accordingly went to 
 
 the Marshalsea, accompanied by Mr. 
 Stockden's housekeeper, who had been 
 gagged on the night of the murder. 
 Mrs. Greenwood there recognised tlie 
 man and woman whom she had seen 
 in her dream. The man, although not 
 recognised at first by the housekeeper, 
 being without his periwig, was iden- 
 tified by her when he had it on. The 
 three men were executed, and Mr. 
 Stockden once more appeared in a 
 dream to Mrs. Greenwood, and said 
 to her, " Elizabeth, I thank thee ; the 
 God of heaven reward thee for what 
 thou hast done." After this, we are 
 informed tliat she was "freed from 
 these frights, which had caused much 
 alteration in her countenance." 
 
 KEMAB.KABLE DISCOVEKy. 
 
 In the Times, March 2, 1863, ap- 
 peared the following : — " During the 
 past five weeks a mystery has hung 
 over the fate of Mr. John Brough, of 
 Boltby, in the North Hiding, who 
 suddenly disappeared, and had not 
 since been heard of. A few nights 
 ago a neighbour dreamt that the body 
 of Brough was in a certain quarry 
 about three miles distant. Tlie dream 
 was mentioned to many, but treated 
 as an absurdity. The dreamer, how- 
 ever, could not rid his mind of the 
 impression, and resolved to take his 
 dog and set off to the place to satisfy 
 himself. He was, on arrival, attracted 
 to a lonely part by the loud barking 
 of the dog, and there found the body 
 of Brough, much decomposed, and 
 with his throat cut, the head being 
 nearly severed. Deceased had appa- 
 rently pulled off his coat, and, having 
 roUed up his sleeves, had cut his 
 throat with a newly- sharpened knife. 
 He is believed to have been insane, 
 and a jury has returned a verdict to 
 that efl'ect." 
 
 BOBN WITH A CAUL. 
 
 The following strange story ap- 
 peared in the &sex Herald, a few years 
 
70 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 siaoe : — "A correspondent gravely for- 
 wards us the following: 'The miracu- 
 lous properties of the caul were provi- 
 dentially developed some days since near 
 Romford, in this county. A boy (born 
 with a caul), not yet two years old, 
 fell into a well containing seven feet 
 of water, being three feet from the 
 top. It is not known how long the 
 poor child had been there when the 
 mother received information of the 
 accident from his brother, a very 
 young child; but on hearing of the 
 same she hastened to the well, and 
 found the child lying flat on his back 
 on the surface of the water, as motion- 
 less as death. On his being taken 
 out restorative means were imme- 
 diately applied by the mother, and 
 although the accident occurred at 
 twelve o'clock in the day, before five 
 that afternoon the chUd had resumed 
 its usual cheerfulness, as if nothing 
 had befallen it to its injury. Though 
 many may doubt, this case fully tests 
 the goodness, power, and wisdom of 
 Almighty God.' " 
 
 BLACK. PBEAOECER. 
 
 A recent traveller reports the fol- 
 lowing strange scene at Sierra Leone : 
 One hot morning Daddy or Uncle 
 Dickey ascended the pulpit — a large, 
 heavy-headed Negro in a blue coat 
 with bright metal buttons. Every 
 tongue was silenced, every look fixed, 
 whilst his sharp eye searched each 
 countenance previous to the delivery 
 of his text. The precise subject which 
 the sermon was designed to enforce, 
 it would be difficult to define ; even 
 the text being unintelligible, with ex- 
 ception of the words, "Sasas, Meesas, 
 an Bennygo," whom he stated to have 
 been "three men walking in an oven." 
 He spoke of " Nebuohadnezzas" as 
 " Daddy King, who done make big 
 feast, with plenty banana, plenty yam, 
 plenty knskusoo, plenty beef-steak 
 and rice, plenty rum and palm-oil, 
 plenty too much." Prom the zests 
 
 of the table he plunged into a fervid 
 description of the burning abyss, 
 where " worm no die," and where un- 
 fortunates might pray for the rainy 
 season; "but stop a bit, he no done 
 come yet ;" and where he assured his 
 friends most of them would inevitably 
 live in endless pain and "troublio." 
 
 At the moment of his speaking the 
 thermometer was standing at 96° iu 
 the shade, and the oppressed sense 
 felt this eloquence. " Oh !" he ex- 
 claimed, dashing himself forward, 
 "you all bad ! bad ! fader in he'm, 
 moder in he'm ; you soul in hell, hissing 
 hot in fire and bimtony ! Den soul 
 have big palaver with God ! soul him 
 say, God ! what matter for me no in 
 glorio ?" The discourse was pro- 
 longed over many a weary half hour. 
 At length, when every terrific denun- 
 ciation and withering curse which 
 depended upon fire, and red-hot iron, 
 and brimstone, and involved madden- 
 ing thirst and burnt members, had 
 been introduced with small regard to 
 any specific plan, utterance became 
 impeded by hoarseness, the dry tongue 
 cleaved to the roof of the mouth, and 
 the sermon faded and fell, not from a 
 logical conclusion having been at- 
 tained, but from sheer inability to 
 talk longer. 
 
 A CLOSE ESCAPE. 
 
 Colonel Greville, of sporting noto- 
 riety, one day related to his friend, 
 James Smith, that he was taken pri- 
 soner during the American war, along 
 with three other officers of the same 
 rank. One evening they were sum- 
 moned into the presence of Washing- 
 ton, who announced to them that the 
 conduct of their Government, in con- 
 demning one of his officers to death, 
 as a rebel, compelled him to make 
 reprisals ; and that, much to his re- 
 gret, he was under the necessity of 
 requiring them to cast lots, without 
 delay, to decide whicb of them should 
 be hanged. They were then bowed 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 71 
 
 out, and returned to their quarters. 
 Four slips of paper were put into a 
 hat, and the shortest was drawn by 
 Captain AsgUl, who exclaimed, "I 
 knew how it would be ; I never won 
 so much as a hit at backgammon in 
 my life." As Greville told the story, 
 he was selected to sit up with Captain 
 Asgill, under the pretext of com- 
 panionship ; but in reaUty to prevent 
 him from escaping, and leaving the 
 honour amongst the remaiuing three. 
 "And what," inquired Smith, "did 
 you say to comfort him ?" " Why, I 
 remember saying to him, when they 
 left us, D — n it, old fellow, never 
 mind;" but it may be doubted (added 
 Smith) whether he drew much com- 
 fort from the exhortation. Lady 
 Asgill persuaded the Prench Minister 
 to interpose, and the Captain was 
 permitted to escape. 
 
 ACCLDENI TO MB. BEUNEL. 
 
 Mr. Brunei, the celebrated engineer, 
 had several narrow escapes with his 
 life ; but the most extraordinary acci- 
 dent which befel him was that which 
 occurred while one day playing with 
 Ms children, and astonishing them by 
 passing a half-sovereign through his 
 mouth out at his ear. Unfortunately, 
 he swallowed the coin, which dropped 
 into his windpipe. The accident oc- 
 curred on the 3rd of April, 1843, and 
 it was followed by frequent fits of 
 coughing, and occasional uneasiness 
 in the right side of the chest ; but so 
 slight was the disturbance of breathing, 
 that it was for some time doubted 
 whether the coin had really fallen into 
 the windpipe. After the lapse of 
 fifteen days. Sir Benjamin Brodie met 
 Mr. Key in consmtation, and they 
 concurred in the opinion that most 
 probably the half-sovereign was lodged 
 at the bottom of the right bronchus. 
 The day after, Mr. Brunei placed him- 
 self in a prone position on his face 
 upon some chairs, and, bending his 
 head and neck downwards, he dis- 
 
 tinctly felt the coin drop towards the 
 glottis. A violent cough ensued, and 
 on resuming the erect posture he felt 
 as if the oDJect again moved down- 
 wards into the chest. Here was an 
 engineering difficulty, the like of which 
 Mr. Brunei had never before encoun- 
 tered. The mischief was purely me- 
 chanical ; a foreign body had got into 
 his breathing apparatus, and must be 
 removed, if at all, by some mechanical 
 expedient. Mr. Brunei was, how- 
 ever, equal to the occasion. He had 
 an apparatus constructed, consisting 
 of a platform which moved upon a 
 hinge in the centre. Upon this he 
 had himself strapped, and his body 
 was then inverted in order that the 
 coin might drop downward by its own 
 weight, and so be expelled. At the 
 first experiment, the coin again slipped 
 towards the glottis, but it caused such 
 an alarming fit of convulsive coughiug 
 and appearance of choking, that 
 danger was apprehended, and the ex- 
 periment was discontinued. Two days 
 after, on the 25th, the operation of 
 tracheotomy was performed by Sir 
 Benjamin Brodie, assisted by Mr. 
 Key, with the intention of extracting 
 the coin by the forceps, if possible. 
 Two attempts to do so were made 
 without success. The introduction of 
 the forceps into the windpipe on the 
 second occasion was attended with so 
 excessive a degree of irritation, that 
 it was felt the experiment could not 
 be continued without imminent danger 
 to life. The incision in the windpipe 
 was, however, kept open, by means of 
 a quill or tube, until the 13 th of May, 
 by which time Mr. Brunei's strength 
 had sufficiently recovered to enawe 
 the original experiment to be repeated. 
 He was again strapped to his appa- 
 ratus ; his body was inverted ; his back 
 was struck gently ; and he distinctly 
 felt the coin quit its place on the 
 right side of his chest. The opening 
 in the windpipe allowed him to breathe 
 while the throat was stopped by the 
 
72 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 coin, and it thus had the effect of pre- 
 venting the spasmodic action of tlie 
 glottis. After a few coughs the coin 
 dropped into his mouth. Mr. Brunei 
 used afterwards to say that the 
 moment when he heard the gold piece 
 strike against his upper front teeth, 
 ■was, perhaps, the most exquisite in 
 his whole life. The half-sovereign 
 had been in his windpipe for not less 
 than six weeks. — Quarterly Reoiew. 
 
 ADVENTOEES 01 A CHAIR. 
 
 In a Berlin journal, which guaran- 
 tees its truth, we find the following 
 story: — An old woman, who lately 
 died in the hospital, left a very old 
 arm-chair, of Gothic style, richly 
 decorated. In the sale of her effects, 
 a foreigner paid 500 francs for the 
 chairj and surprise having been ex- 
 pressed at his giving so large a sum, 
 he made this explanation : The chair, 
 vrith other articles, was offered by the 
 States of Moeliren to Maria Theresa, 
 and figured in her boudoir. After 
 her death it, by her express desire, 
 was sent to Marie Antoinette, in 
 Prance, and afterwards was one of the 
 pieces of furniture allowed to Louis 
 the Sixteenth in the Temple. The 
 King's valet-de-chambre, Fleury, after- 
 wards became possessed of the chair, 
 and took it to England, where it 
 became the property of the Prince 
 Regent, and afterwards of the Duke 
 of Cumberland. The latter took it 
 to Berlin, and there it was given to 
 an upholsterer to repair. The work- 
 man charged with the job found 
 secreted in it a diamond pin, a por- 
 trait in pencil of a boy, and a number 
 of sheets of paper filled with very 
 small writing. The things he- appro- 
 priated; the pin he sold, and the 
 portrait and papers he gave to a 
 watchmaker, a friend of his. Although 
 the writing was in a foreign language 
 the watchmaker succeeded in making 
 out that it consisted of a series of 
 secret and very important instructions, 
 
 drawn up by Louis the Sixteenth for 
 the Dauphm, his son, the portrait 
 being that of the latter. The watch- 
 maker, whose name was Naundorff, 
 some years after gave himself out as 
 Louis the Seventeenth, and produced 
 the papers and portrait in question to 
 prove his allegation. After making 
 some noise in 1 ranee and Belgium, in 
 which latter country he passed by the 
 name of Morel de Saint-Didier, tliis 
 man died in 1849. His son, who called 
 himself Duke of Normandy, went to 
 Java, in 1853. The Berlin workman 
 who discovered the documents natu- 
 rally did not state how Naundorff 
 became possessed of them; but just 
 before his death, he made a full dis- 
 closure to his family. They found 
 out that the famous arm-chair had 
 remained in Berlin, and had come into 
 possession of the old woman; and 
 they caused it to be bought in order 
 to sell it again in Austria. 
 
 THE LOVE-LETTER. 
 
 Towards the close of Napoleon's 
 wars, a young French officer, posted 
 with his regiment at Konigsberg, was 
 kindly received at the house of a 
 merchant named Sewald, the grand- 
 father of a well-known German female 
 novelist. He conceived an ardent 
 attachment for the pretty daughter of 
 his entertainer; but the affair came 
 to nothing beyond presenting an 
 etuile-case to the young lady, just 
 before returning to his own country. 
 Twenty years elapsed, and the lady 
 became Madame Simson, and the 
 mother of a family. The Frenchman, 
 chancing at that time to pass through 
 Konigsberg, remembered the family 
 which had been so kind to him in 
 1813, and went to see them, as also 
 Madame Simson. He was then, how- 
 ever, a sober married man, little dis- 
 posed to prattle about old love stories; 
 so the presentation of the etuile-case 
 was not even onoealluded to. Ten years 
 more passed, when Madame Simson's 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 73 
 
 eldest son had a dream one niglit, to 
 the effect that there was a secret 
 compartment in the etnile-case, which 
 contained a love-letter. He men- 
 tioned the circumstance at the break- 
 fast-table next morning, which caused 
 much mirth, no one being disposed to 
 believe that there could be anyniystery 
 about an object so long familiar to 
 the observation of the family. The 
 young man, nevertheless, set about 
 carefully examining the etuile-case, 
 and in a little time found a secret 
 compartment, in which was a billet- 
 doux of the donor, making offer of 
 his hand, and a share of a soldier's 
 fortune, to his youthful enslaver ! It 
 was the firm conviction of the family 
 that no such circumstance had ever 
 been even surmised by any of them ; 
 and we may reasonably conclude that 
 had such a circumstance even been 
 suspected, the etuile-case would have 
 been duly searched, and the letter 
 found, long before. 
 
 INVENTION OP THE KAILWAT. 
 
 It is astonishing to read the chorus 
 of wonder expressed in the present 
 day, at the mistakes, alike of scientific 
 and unscientific men, in estimating 
 the speed to be obtained on railways. 
 The author of the first treatise on a 
 railway was the first to under-estimate 
 their speed; and he was, for years, 
 followed by nearly every writer on the 
 subject. When Mr. Alderson was 
 at the bar, he had to examine George 
 Stephenson before Parliament upon 
 this question, and here is the result: — 
 
 " ' Of course,' (the question is put 
 with reference to the proposed speed) 
 ' when a body is moving upon a road, 
 the greater the velocity the greater 
 the momentum that is generated ?' — 
 'Certainly.'— 'What would be the 
 momentum of forty tons moving at 
 the rate of twelve miles an hour ?' — 
 ' It would be very great.' — ' Have you 
 seen a railroad that would stand that?' 
 — ' Yes.' — ' Where ? ' — ' Any railroad 
 
 that would bear going four miles uti 
 hour ; I mean to say that if it would 
 bear the weight at four miles an hour, 
 it would bear it at twelve.' — ' Taking 
 it at four miles an hour, do you mean 
 to say that it would not require a 
 stronger railway to carry the same 
 weight twelve miles an hour?' — ' I will 
 give an answer to that. Every one, 
 I dare say, has been over ice, when 
 skating, or seen persons go over ; and 
 tliey know that it would bear them at 
 a greater velocity than it would if 
 they went slower ; when it goes quick, 
 the weight in a manner ceases.' — ' Is 
 not that upon the hypothesis that the 
 railroad is perfect ?' — ' Yes ; and I 
 mean to make it perfect.' " 
 
 But Stephenson triumphed. Tlie 
 barrister again put the engineer to the 
 question : — ■ 
 
 " 'Do not wrought-irou rails bend ? 
 take Hetton Colliery, for instance ?' — 
 ' They are wrought-iron, but they are 
 weak rails.' — ' Do you not know that 
 they bend ?' — ' Perhaps they may, not 
 being made sufiioiently strong.' — 
 ' And if made suificiently strong, that 
 will involve an additional expense ?' — 
 ' It will.' — ' You say the machine can 
 go at the rate of twelve miles an hour. 
 Suppose there is a turn upon the road, 
 what will become of the machine ?' — 
 ' It would go round the turn. ' — 
 ' Would it not go straight forward ?' 
 —'No.'— 'What is to be the height 
 of the flanch of the wheel?' — 'One 
 incli and a quarter.' — 'Then if the 
 rail bends to the extent of an inch and 
 a quarter, it will go off the rail ?' — 
 ' It cannot bend. I know it is so in 
 practice.' — 'Did you ever see forty 
 tons going at the rate of twelve miles 
 an hour ?' — ' No ; but I have seen the 
 engine running from eight to ten 
 miles round a curve.' — ' What was 
 the weight moved ?' — ' I think little, 
 except the engme.'-—' Do you mean 
 to tell us that no difference is to be 
 made between those forty tons after 
 the engine, and the engine itself ?' . 
 
74 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 ' li is scarcely worth notice.' — ' Tlien, 
 though the engine might run round 
 and follow the turn, do you mean to 
 say that the weiglit after it would 
 not pass off ?' — ' I have stated that I 
 never saw such a weight move at that 
 velocity ; but I could see at Killing- 
 worth that the weight was following 
 the engines, and it is a very sharp 
 curve : it is a sharper curve there than 
 I should ever recommend to be put 
 on any railroad.' — ' Have you known 
 a stage-coach overturn, when making 
 not a very sharp curve, when going 
 very fast?' — ' That is a different thing: 
 it is top-heavy.' — 'Will none of your 
 waggons be top-heavy P' — ' They will 
 not.' " _ 
 
 A critic has attributed Alderson's 
 skill in the examination to his per- 
 sonal antipathy to innovation : we do 
 not see it in this light. The same 
 writer says : " We read these details 
 with a wonder akin to that we feel 
 on unswathing a Rameses or Cleo- 
 patra." 
 
 It appears that so early as 1810, a 
 project then in contemplation for 
 making a canal from Gharleroi to the 
 mining districts of Belgium, first 
 suggested to one Mr. Thomas Gray 
 the superior alternative of a railway, 
 a proposal which, it is curious to 
 observe, has since received the sanc- 
 tion of the Belgian government, as 
 " the Entre Sambre and Meuse Rail- 
 way." Prom this period (1816), the 
 idea of general railway communication 
 took entire possession of Gray's mind; 
 and he shortly afterwards published a 
 volume of " Observations on a General 
 Iron Railway, or Land Steam Con- 
 veyance, to supersede the necessity 
 of Horses in all Public Vehicles." 
 This pubhcation was followed by 
 several petitions from the author to 
 the various ministers of state, from 
 1820 to 1823; yet, although the book 
 went through jive editions, the peti- 
 tions were disregarded both by the 
 government and the commercial and 
 
 mercantile interests to which they 
 were addressed. Gray's first recom- 
 mendation was, to make the railway 
 experiment between Liverpool and 
 Manchester; which shows how well 
 he appreciated, both the merits of his 
 scheme, and the want of rapid com- 
 munication between manufacturing 
 and export towns. In his work, he 
 minutely details the advantages de- 
 rivable from railway transit for cheap 
 supplies of fish, and other perishable 
 produce, to the interior of the country 
 — the regulation and acceleration of 
 post-office carriage, by morning and 
 evening mail-trains, so as to insure 
 two deliveries and despatches in each 
 day. Yet, poor Gray's book was 
 ridiculed by a writer in the Bdinburgh 
 Review, and the author pronounced 
 to be a madman, who ought to be 
 shut up in Bedlam ! The book, how- 
 ever, penetrated into Germany; and, 
 not long since, a well-known German 
 writer remarked of it as follows: 
 "There was Mr. Gray, who wrote 
 upon iron railways — how exact his 
 prognostications of the immense ad- 
 vantages and the sure progress of his 
 railway system ! Twenty years ago, 
 1 read his book ; and I often turn to 
 it to see how truly his predictions 
 have been verified, not only with 
 regard to England, but to the whole of 
 the civilized world." Gray's idea was a 
 grand trunk system between all the 
 large towns, and branches to the 
 smaller places, which the best railway 
 authorities have since asserted would 
 have constituted by far the best sys- 
 tem, had it been originally adopted : 
 his plan shows locomotives, as now 
 used, with six wheels, the central ones 
 being toothed to work into racks, to 
 ascend steep inclines ; but this portion 
 of the project has been perfected by 
 Mr. George Stephenson, the great 
 practical improver of the locomotive 
 engine. Poor Gray was, however, 
 left without any reward for liis inge- 
 nuity. 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 75 
 
 It should, however, in justice be 
 mentioned here that a locomotive, 
 patented by John Blenkinsop, vras at 
 work ia 1812 between Middleton and 
 Leeds, as appears from a paragraph 
 in the Liverpool Mercuri/ of 3rd July, 
 1812. Blenkinsop's locomotive was 
 not only precedent to Stephenson's, 
 but to Trevithic's (or Trevithiok's) ; 
 bat it must be noted that in neither 
 of these did the locomotive pro- 
 gress by the mere adhesion or hite 
 of the two plain surfaces of the wheel 
 and the rail, as did those of Hedley 
 and of Stephenson. 
 
 TALES OP lEREOE. 
 
 In the memoirs of Thomas Holcroft 
 we find the following after-supper 
 stories : 
 
 One, of a lady waked from sleep, 
 who suffered her lap-dog to lie at the 
 foot of her bed, and, feeling some- 
 thing move, bid the dog lie still, at 
 the same time stretching out her arm 
 to feel him, but, instead of a lap-dog, 
 took hold of a hand ; when a voice 
 bid her lie still, make no noise, but 
 deliver her keys. The lady was a 
 woman of courage, and immediately 
 complied ; only requesting her daugh- 
 ter might not be disturbed, who was 
 sleeping by her side. She, however, 
 was mistaken; the daughter had 
 heard the thieves, had risen, slipped 
 on a night-dress, and, stealing into 
 another room, gave the alarm, by 
 which the thieves were secured. 
 
 Another, of a bigoted old kdy, 
 who seeing thieves enter her apart- 
 ment with lights, at midnight, ex- 
 claimed to her maid, who lay in the 
 same room, ' Lie still, Betty, for now 
 we shall see the salvation of the Lord !' 
 imagining it was a celestial apparition. 
 The thieves, however, were driven 
 away by the fury of a poor man, 
 maintaiued out of charity, who was 
 half an idiot, and who, after the ex- 
 ploit, was made drunk every day, 
 .when he went to Plymouth, with 
 
 drams given him by people who 
 bribed him to tell the story. 
 
 A third, of a gentleman, that 
 having put out his caudle, going to 
 bed, read, in blazing characters on his 
 curtains, ' Confess thy sins ; this 
 night thy soul shall be required of 
 thee.' On which the gentleman fell 
 on his knees, and, as directed, began 
 to confess his sins aloud ; not from 
 terror, but aware it was a trick, meant 
 to terrify him, by a waggish young 
 lady; and hearing a little bustle on 
 the stair-head, truly supposed that 
 she and others were there listening. 
 He confessed, as the last and greatest 
 of his sins, that he had seduced the 
 young lady, and, if that might be 
 pardoned him, he would never again 
 be so heinously guilty. The joke was 
 understood, and, of course, the lady 
 laughed at, instead of the gentle- 
 man. 
 
 A fourth, of a cook-maid, left 
 alone in a country house, which was 
 attacked by several thieves on the 
 night when she was sitting up, waiting 
 the arrival of the family. The detail 
 
 of this story , who told it, did 
 
 not know, except that the fears and 
 courage of the girl being inflamed, 
 finding them to be thieves, and that 
 they were making their way by widen- 
 ing the aperture of the kitchen gut- 
 ter, she took up a cleaver, and killed 
 the first man that was creeping for- 
 ward, then dragged the body away, 
 imitated his voice, encouraged a se- 
 cond to come in, killed him, and thus 
 destroyed them all ; after which, 
 growing frantic, she lighted up every 
 room, smeared herself with blood, 
 brandished her dreadful weapon, and 
 was found marching about the house, 
 and to and from the dead bodies, by 
 the family, who, coming home in the 
 middle of the night, were amazed at 
 the lights from the windows first, and 
 much more afterwards, when they 
 beheld the scene within. 
 
 Discoursing at Opie's, on the 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 effects of terror, Northcote related, 
 that two of his brothers were sitting 
 by the fire, and as one of them slept, 
 the other, by way of experiment, 
 when he saw him about to wake, sat 
 motionless, without appearing to 
 breathe, and his eyes fixed on one 
 object. The brother, who had been 
 asleep, watched him as long as his 
 patience could hold, and then spoke, 
 but received no answer. He spoke 
 again and a^ain, but still the same 
 fixed, motionless, and, as he began to 
 dread, lifeless figure sat before him. 
 He was not a timid man, and the 
 absurd joke ended without any bad 
 consequences. But the picture which 
 he afterwards gave of his own terror 
 was a strong one. N. also told the 
 following story: — A gentleman, fol- 
 lowed by a servant in livery, rode into 
 an inn in the West of England, one 
 evening, a little before dusk. He 
 told the landlord that he should be 
 detained by business in that part of 
 the country for a few days, and wished 
 to know if there were any amuse- 
 ments going on in the town, to fill up 
 the intervals of his time. The land- 
 lord replied, that it was their race 
 and assize week, and that he would 
 therefore be at no loss to pass away 
 the time. On the gentleman's making 
 answer that this was lucky, for that he 
 was fond of seeing trials, the other 
 said, that a very interesting trial for 
 a robbery would come on the next 
 day, on which people's opinions were 
 much divided, the evidence being very 
 strong against the prisoner ; but he 
 himself persisting resolutely in de- 
 claring that he was in a distant part 
 of the kingdom at the time the rob- 
 bery was committed. His guest ma- 
 nifested considerable curiosity to hear 
 the trial, but, as the court would 
 probably be crowded, expressed some 
 doubt of getting a place. The land- 
 lord told him that there could be no 
 diSiculty in a gentleman of his appear- 
 ance getting a place; but that, to 
 
 prevent any accident, he would him- 
 self go with him, and speak to one of 
 the beadles. Accordingly, they went 
 into court tlie next morning, and tlie 
 gentleman was shown a seat on the 
 bench. Presently after, the trial 
 began. While the evidence was giv- 
 ing against him, the prisoner had 
 remained with his eyes fixed on the 
 ground, seemingly very much de- 
 pressed ; till, being called on for his 
 defence, he looked up, and, seeing the 
 stranger, he suddenly fainted away. 
 This excited some surprise, and it 
 seemed at first like a trick to gain 
 time. As soon as he came to himself, 
 on being asked by the judge the cause 
 of his behaviour, he said, 'Oh! my 
 lord, I see a person that can save my 
 life ; that gentleman (pointing to the 
 stranger) can prove I am innocent ; 
 might I only have leave to put a few 
 questions to him?' The eyes of the 
 whole court were now turned on the 
 gentleman, who said he felt himself 
 in a very awkward situation to be so 
 called upon, as he did not remember 
 ever to have seen the man before, but 
 that he would answer any question 
 that was asked him. 'Well, then,' 
 said the man, ' don't you remembpr 
 landing at Dover at such a time?' 
 To this the gentleman answered, that 
 he had landed at Dover not long 
 before, but that he could not tell 
 whether it was on the day he men- 
 tioned or not. ' Well,' said he, ' but 
 don't you recollect that a person in a 
 blue jacket and trowsers carried your 
 trunk to the inn ?' To this he an- 
 swered, that of course some person 
 had carried his trunk for him, but 
 that he did not know what dress he 
 wore. ' But,' said the prisoner, ' don't 
 you remember that tlje person who 
 went with you from the boat told you 
 a story of his being in the service, 
 that he thought himself an ill-used 
 man, and that he showed you a scar 
 he had on one side of his forehead ?' 
 During this last question, the counte- 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 77 
 
 nance of the stranger underwent a 
 considerable change ; he said he cer- 
 tainly did recollect such a circum- 
 stance ; and, on the man's putting his 
 hair aside, and showing the scar, he 
 became quite sure that he was the 
 same person. A buzz of satisfaction 
 now ran through the court, for the 
 day on which, according to the pri- 
 soner's account, this gentleman had 
 met with him at Dover, was the same 
 on which he was charged with the 
 robbery in a remote county. The 
 stranger, however, could not be cer- 
 tain of the time, but said that he 
 sometimes made memorandums of 
 dates in his pocket-book, and might 
 
 possibly have done so on this occa- 
 sion. On turning to his pocket-book, 
 he found a memorandum of the time 
 he landed from Calais, which corre- 
 sponded with tlie prisoner's assertion. 
 This being the only circumstance 
 necessary to prove the alibi, the pri- 
 soner was immediately acquitted, 
 amidst the applause and congratula- 
 tions of the whole court. Within 
 less than a month after this, the 
 gentleman who came to the inn, at- 
 tended by a servant in livery, the 
 servant who followed him, and the 
 prisoner who had been acquitted, were 
 all three brought back together to the 
 same gaol, for robbing the mail. 
 
 Wits and Humourists. 
 
 TOM D'trBTEY.* 
 
 What martyr to hypochondriasis 
 has not consulted Doctor Thomas 
 {vulgo Tom) D'Urfey, whose "Pills 
 to purge Melancholy' relaxed the rigid, 
 frigid muscles of saturnine King 
 William, and cast out the Blue Devils 
 from the querulous Majesty of Queen 
 Anne? Who has not enjoyed the 
 racy old English humour of Tory 
 Tom, on whose shoulder the merry 
 monarch leaned familiarly, humming 
 an opera tune ? Of whom it was said 
 that many an ambitious parvenu got 
 credit for pretending to have been in 
 his company; and of whom it was 
 sung, (in reference to his intimacy 
 with the Duke of Albemarle, son of 
 General Monk, and his own poverty- 
 stricken fortune) : — 
 
 He prates like a parrot ; 
 He sups with the Duke, 
 And he lies in a garret. 
 
 His ready wit, lyrical talents, and 
 musical voice, made D'Urfey capital 
 
 * Communicated by Mr. George Daniel 
 to the Illustrated London News. 
 
 company. At Knowle, the princely 
 seat of the Duke of Dorset, he was 
 ever a right welcome guest : a rare 
 print, entitled "A Sketch of a Tope- 
 ing Meeting between a Parson, a 
 Burgher-master's Steward, and a 
 Poet," represents him (the Poet) 
 doing the honours at a convivial party 
 of drinkers, smokers, and jokers, in a 
 snuggery at Knowle; and another 
 print, still rarer, exhibits him in grand 
 pontifioalibus, as Eandolph Ruhv-face, 
 A.M., Chaplain in ordinary to the 
 Bacchanalian Society of 'Wine-bib- 
 bers, with "tub ecclesiastic," cushion, 
 bottle, glass, and book before him, 
 holding forth on the virtues of wine ! 
 It is to be regretted that this social 
 scion of Apollo and the jolly God, 
 who wrote " more odes than Horace, 
 and about twice as many comedies as 
 Terence," should, in "the sere and 
 yellow leaf," have fallen into poverty. 
 But for the humane interposition of 
 the kind and the accompKshed Addi- 
 son this veteran singing-bird might 
 have literally died in a cage. 
 
78 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 Against the wall in the sovith--west 
 angle of St. James's Church, Picca- 
 dilly, might formerly be seen a stone 
 bearing this quaint inscription — "Tom 
 D'TJrfey, died Eeb. 26, 1723." 
 
 This too brief notice of so cele- 
 brated a wit is intended to herald a 
 piece not printed in his works, and 
 known but to a very few hunters 
 after oddities. A piece so extremely 
 scarce, that at the sale-rooms of 
 Messrs. Sotheby, in 1832, it was 
 knocked down to a bibliographical 
 maniac for Tko pounds ten shillings, 
 its published price, in 1727, being 
 only sixpence ! Its title is " The Eng- 
 lish Stage Italianized, SiC, Written by 
 Thomas D'Urfei/, Poet Laureate de 
 Jure." 
 
 This literary curiosity is a free, 
 facetious satire on the popular passion 
 for Italian sing-song, that the well- 
 merited success of the Beggar's 
 Opera "scotched," but did not kill. 
 It shows, in a ludicrous vein, the 
 necessity of banishing those " formal 
 fellows," Shakspeare, Ben Jonson, 
 Otway, and Oongreve; of turning 
 adrift the abettors and interpreters of 
 their dulness, Wilks, Booth, Gibber, 
 and Oldfield ; and of filling up their 
 places with fiddling, singing, and 
 dancing Signers and Signoras ! who 
 by the " hurly-burly of coaches, the 
 conflagration of torches, the circle of 
 belles, the crowd of beaus, and the 
 ample subscription," prove that the 
 town is entirely their most humble 
 servants . . . 
 
 K'ow for the argtiment. .ffineas, tte 
 itinerant Prince of Troy, and his father, 
 Anchises, are entertained at the Court of 
 Carthage by Queen Dido. Mueas relates 
 his adventures to her Majesty, during 
 which Harlequin, the Queen's butcher, 
 purloins some piquant morsels from his 
 plate. For this poor Harlequin is con- 
 demned to be hanged; but the Prince, 
 who relishes a practical joke, procures his 
 pardon, only to make a pimp of him! 
 The good looks of JIneas have " transfixed 
 the soul" of Queen Dido. She falls into 
 
 love fits ; but, recovering, makes Colum- 
 bine her confidante. 
 
 But " the course of true love never did 
 run smooth." The Prince, instead of re- 
 turning the Imperial passion, casts a 
 sheep's-eye at Columbine. Harlequin tells 
 his master that the fair figurante is pre- 
 engaged. JSneas, however, insinuates a 
 purse of gold into his palm, and Harlequin 
 promises to procure her. 
 
 The slighted Majesty of Carthage, 
 drawn dagger in hand, resolves to cry 
 quittance with the coquette Columbine ! 
 A Cabinet Council is held, Harlequin 
 sitting as Prime Minister, " the Doctor" 
 as War Secretaiy, and Scaramouch as 
 Clerk. It is determined to pursue the 
 fugitive lovers, who have fled to the sea- 
 coast. Harlequin {sub rosa) informs them 
 of their danger ; pockets another purse of 
 gold; sees them safely on board ship; 
 and wishes them (colours flying and guns 
 roaring !) bon voyage 
 
 Queen Dido on horseback harangues her 
 brave troops ; Harlequin, as Generalis- 
 simo, makes a loyal reply ; Pantaloon pro- 
 mises to conquer or perish, and " the 
 Doctor," from the Privy Purse, supplies 
 the sinews of war. The Generalissimo, 
 however, and "the Doctor" cheat the 
 poor soldiers out of their pay, and admit 
 Pantaloon (who threatens to peach!) to 
 share in the plunder. 
 
 A "scout" announces the quick ap- 
 proach of the enemy. The Carthaginian 
 heroes in a panic throw down their arms 
 hurriedly, and take to their heels; Panta- 
 loon, fearing to be pulverized, scours away 
 after them; and Queen Dido, "in doleful 
 dumps," is left alone in her glory. 
 
 Another "scout" informs her Majesty 
 that his predecessor's alarm was a false 
 one, and that the hostile fleet are wind- 
 bound. She takes " rides about the camp 
 like a fury," and makes Harlequin her 
 Lord High Admiral. 
 
 The Queen, " dressed as a Shepherdess," 
 runs stark mad, and the sympathetic maids 
 of honour, to fall in with her strange hu- 
 mour, bleat like young lambs ! One of 
 the royal frolics is to jnake Harlequin a 
 Hobhie-horse. "The Doctor" is now 
 called in ; he prescribes, and Queen Dido 
 becomes " compos" Alas ! he has heavy 
 news to tell her. Harlequin, who has all 
 along nourished a secret passion for her 
 sacred person, in a paroxysm of despon- 
 dency has suspended himself from the 
 back-stairs banister! Dido commands 
 that his corpse shall be brought in ; when 
 she cries over it like a tragedy queen. 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 79 
 
 "The Doctor," to comfort her, offers to 
 bring the dead to life again; which he 
 does by a pharmaceuticalprocess not ne- 
 cessary to be recorded. Her Majesty, re- 
 senting the affront of iEneas, crowns the 
 catastrophe by giving her hand to Har- 
 lequin; and Harlequin, to the martial 
 music of drums and trumpets, is pro- 
 claimed King of Carthage ! 
 
 Mr. Daniel has referred to D'Urfey 
 as "Tog- Tom:" his attachment 
 to the Tory interest led to poor 
 Tom's witty works being burnt. It 
 appears that the members of the re- 
 nowned Kit-Cat Club requested their 
 founder to bake some mutton-pies 
 with D'Urfey's works under them. 
 On one occasion, the Club complained 
 that the pies were never baked enough, 
 when Christopher Kat, the pastry- 
 cook, swore that D'Urfey's Works 
 were so cold that the dough could not 
 bake for them. — Notes and (Queries. 
 
 FRENCH "WITTICISMS. 
 
 The French are notorious sayers of 
 smart things. To talk epigrams is the 
 delight of a French conversationist. 
 The writer of a very sparkhng paper 
 in the Quarterly Meview, (Mr. James 
 Hannay,) crowds into a paragraph 
 several of the elegant witticisms of 
 the time of Louis the Fourteenth, 
 when the "air of the salons was 
 prickly with epigrams :" 
 
 "When the oldDuplessis wasmourn- 
 ing his misfortune in being prevented 
 by age from taking part in a campaign, 
 the king answered, ' We do but toil to 
 earn the reputation which you have 
 acquired.' Louis advanced to the top 
 of the staircase to meet the great 
 Conde, after the battle of Senef. The 
 prince, who ascended slowly from the 
 effects of his gout, apologized to his 
 majesty for making him wait. ' My 
 cousin,' was the reply, ' do not hurry ; 
 no one could move quickly who was 
 loaded with laurels as you are.' ' I 
 have heard several great preachers,' 
 said the monarch to Massillon, ' and 
 have been thoroughly satisfied with 
 
 them. Every time I have heard you, 
 I have been dissatisfied with myself.' 
 He would bear unoourtly truths to be 
 spoken when they came recommended 
 by the lustre of wit. A disputed 
 point arose in a game. ' I refer it to 
 you,' exclaimed Louis to the Count da 
 Grammont, who was approaching at 
 the time. ' Your majesty,' replied the 
 count, ' is wrong.' ' How can you say 
 I am wrong when you do not yet 
 know the question?' 'Do yoa not 
 see,' answered Grammont, 'that if 
 the point had been ever so little 
 doubtful, aU these gentlemen (pointing 
 to the bystanders) would have decided 
 it in your favour ?' They would not 
 believe that silence concealed medita- 
 tion, and M. de Benserade said of a 
 man who did not talk, 'He thinks 
 just as little.' Here comes M. de la 
 Kividre, who went to Rome hoping 
 vainly to be made a cardinal. We 
 remark that he has a bad cold. ' It is 
 because he has returned without a 
 hat !' whispers M. de Bautru. Here 
 is a literary man, M. Patru, who has 
 spent four years in translating the 
 'Pro Arcbia,' and has not yet satisfied 
 himself with his rendering of the first 
 period. M. Menage himself is not 
 exactly a diseur like the Prince de 
 Guemen^ or M. de Bautru. He is 
 colloquial after the fashion of men of 
 letters. When Christina of Sweden 
 came to Paris, he had the task of 
 presenting distinguished persons to 
 her majesty. 'This M. M6nage 
 knows a vast many people of merit !' 
 said the Polar Star, satirically, finding 
 eminent people so numerous. She 
 had sarcasms for everybody; and 
 when the great ladies rushed to kiss 
 her on her arrival, she exclaimed, 
 ' Why, they seem to take me for a 
 gentleman !' " 
 
 SWIPTIANA. 
 
 As universal a practice as lying is, 
 and as easy a one as it seems, I do 
 not remember to have heard three 
 
so 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 good lies in all my conversation, even 
 from those who were most celebrated 
 in that faculty. 
 
 How is it possible to expect that 
 mankind wUl take advice, when they 
 will not so much as take warning ? 
 
 I forget whether advice be among 
 the bad things w" hich Ariosto says are 
 to be found in the moon : that and 
 time ought to have been there. 
 
 It is pleasant to observe how free 
 the present age is in laying taxes on 
 the next : " future ages shall talk of 
 this; this shall be famous to all pos- 
 terity;" whereas their time and 
 thoughts will be taken up about pre- 
 sent things, as ours are now. 
 
 Apollo was held the god of physic, 
 and sender of diseases. Both were 
 originally the same trade, and still 
 continue. 
 
 The common fluency of speech in 
 many men, and most women, is owing 
 to a scarcity of matter, and a scarcity 
 of words ; for whoever is a master of 
 language, and lias a miud full of 
 ideas, will be apt in speaking to hesi- 
 tate upon the choice of both ; whereas 
 common speakers have only one set of 
 ideas, and one set of words to clothe 
 them in : and these are always at the 
 mouth ; as people come faster out 
 of a church when it is almost 
 empty, than when a crowd is at the 
 door. 
 
 A person was asked at Court, what 
 he thought of an ambassador and his 
 train, who were all embroidery and 
 lace, full of bows, cringes, and ges- 
 tures; he said, it was Solomon's 
 importation, gold and apes. 
 
 It is with religion as with paternal 
 affection: some profligate wretches 
 may forget it, and some, through per- 
 verse thinking, may not see any reason 
 for it ; but the biilk of mankind will 
 love their children. 
 
 It is with men as with beauties : if 
 they pass the flower, they lie 
 neglected for ever. 
 
 Courtiers resemble gamesters ; the 
 
 latter finding new arts unknown to 
 the older. 
 
 Monday is parson's holiday. 
 
 We were to do more business after 
 dinner; but after dinner is after 
 dinner ; an old saying and a true, 
 much drinking, little thinking. 
 
 Swift, in the Examiner, defends 
 aristocracy on its true grounds, but 
 with a fierceness quite equal to his 
 brilliant wit. "A pearl," says he, 
 writing of the positions from which 
 great men have come, " holds its 
 value though it be found on a dung- 
 hill; o»/y ihrit is not the most probable 
 place to took for it." 
 
 That was excellently observed, say 
 I, when I read a passage in an author 
 where his opinion agrees with mine. 
 When we differ, there I pronounce him 
 to be mistaken. 
 
 " I'll send for your husband," said 
 the Dean to Mrs. Pilkington, "to 
 dine with us, and in the meantime 
 we'll go and take a walk in Naboth's 
 vineyard." "Where may that be, 
 sir ?" said she. " Why, a garden," 
 replied the Dean, "I cheated one of 
 my neighbours out of." 
 
 swift's moNY. 
 
 In the Dean's celebrated Rhapsody, 
 the ironical praises which he bestowed 
 on George II. and the Court were 
 taken in such good part, that Swift 
 assured Dr. King he had received a 
 message of thanks ; but Queen Caro- 
 line was undeceived by a courtier 
 taking the pains to teach her the use 
 and the power of irony. 
 
 But, Swift's masterpiece of irony 
 was in one of his tracts on Ireland, 
 where he proposes to relieve the dis- 
 tresses of the poor, hy converting their 
 children into food for the rich. The 
 grave, formal, and businesslike mode 
 in which the calculations are given ; 
 the projector's protestation of absolute 
 disinterestedness in the success of his 
 plan ; the economy with which he 
 proposes the middle classes should use 
 
GOOD TlilNGS. 
 
 81 
 
 this new species of food; and the 
 magnificence which he attaches to the 
 idea of a well-grown fat yearling child 
 roasted whole, for a lord mayor's 
 feast ; the style of a projector, and the 
 terms of the shambles, so coolly and 
 jet carefully preserved from beginning 
 to end, render this one of the most 
 extraordinary pieces of humour in our 
 language. A foreign author was so 
 much imposed upon by the gravity of 
 the style, that he quoted it as an 
 instance of the extreme distress .of 
 Ireland, which appeared to equal that 
 of Jerusalem in its last siege ; since a 
 dignitary of the church was reduced to 
 propose, as the only mode of alle- 
 viating the general misery, the horrid 
 resource of feeding the rich wpon the 
 children of the poor ! 
 
 PiraS AND PEOVEBBS, BT SWIET. 
 
 Swift's fondness for puns is well 
 known. Perhaps the application of 
 the line of Virgil to the lady who 
 threw down with her mantua a Cre- 
 mona fiddle is the best ever made : 
 
 Hantua, vae miserae nimium vicina Cre- 
 jnoiiEe! 
 
 To an elderly gentleman who had 
 lost his spectacles, the Dean said : 
 " If this rain continues all night, you 
 will certainly recover them in the 
 morning betimes : 
 
 If octe pluit tota — redeimt spectacula 
 mane." 
 
 Here is legitimate wit. A man of 
 distinction, not remarkable for regu- 
 larity in his private concerns, chose 
 for his motto, Equea hand male notus. 
 "Better known than trusted," was 
 the Dean's translation, when some one 
 related the circumstance. 
 
 Swift had an odd humour of making 
 extempore proverbs. Observing that 
 a gentleman in whose garden he 
 walked with some friends seemed to 
 have no intention to request them to 
 eat any of the fruit. Swift observed, 
 
 " It was a saying of his dear grand- 
 mother. 
 
 Always pull a peach 
 
 When it is within your reach ;'' 
 
 and helping himself accordingly, his 
 example was followed by the whole 
 company. At another time he framed 
 an "old saying and true," for the 
 benefit of a person who had fallen 
 from his horse into the mire : — 
 
 The more dirt 
 
 The less hui-t. 
 
 The man rose much consoled. 
 
 He threw some very useful rules 
 into rhyming adages. Sheridan quotes 
 two. One was a direction to those who 
 ride together through the water : — 
 
 When throu8;h the water you do ride, 
 Keep verj close, or very wide. 
 
 Another related to the decanting 
 of wine : — ' 
 
 First rack slow, and then ract quick, 
 Then rack slow till you come to the thick. 
 
 GULLIVEB's TB.AVELS. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott has well observed : 
 " The character of the imaginary tra- 
 veller is exactly that of Dampier, or 
 any other sturdy nautical wanderer 
 of the period, endowed with courage 
 and conmion sense, who sailed through 
 distant seas without losing a single 
 English prejudice which he had 
 brought from Portsmouth or Ply- 
 mouth, and on his return gave a grave 
 and simple narrative of what he had 
 seen or heard in foreign countries. 
 The character is perhaps strictly Eng- 
 lish, and can be hardly relished by a 
 foreigner. The reflections and obser- 
 vations of Gulliver are never more 
 refined or deeper than might be ex- 
 pected from a plain master of a mer- 
 chantman, or surgeon in the Old 
 Jewry ; and there was such a reality 
 given to this person, that one seaman 
 is said to have sworn he knew Captain 
 Gulliver very well, but he lived at 
 Wapping, not at Eotherhithe. (Gul- 
 liver, so Swift tells us, was long an 
 
 Cr 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 inhabitant .of the place. 'It was as 
 true as if Mr. Gulliver had spoken it,' 
 ■was a sort of proverb among his 
 neighbours at Redriff.) It is the 
 contrast between the natural ease and 
 simplicity of such a style, and the 
 marvels which the volume contains, 
 that forms one great charm of this 
 memorable satire on the imperfections, 
 follies, and vices of mankind." 
 
 The secret of the authorship of 
 Qulliver was kept up by Swift by 
 alluding to a book sent to him called 
 Gulliver's Travels. " A bishop here," 
 he adds, " said that the book was full 
 of improbable lies, and for his part he 
 hardly believed a word of it." Ar- 
 buthnot writes him — "Lord Scar- 
 borough, who is no inventor of stories, 
 told us that he fell in company with a 
 master of a ship, who told him that 
 he was very well acquainted with 
 Gulliver, but that the printer had 
 mistaken ; that he lived in Wapping, 
 not in Rotherhithe. I lent the book 
 to an old gentleman, who went imme- 
 diately to his map, to search for 
 Lilliput." It is obvious how much 
 all this must have amused the Dean 
 and his friends in connexion with the 
 unexampled sale of the volume. 
 
 '• HIGH LIEE BELOW STAIES." 
 
 Swift's Directions to Servants is, 
 every word, founded on fact : some of 
 its experiences being evidently drawn 
 from Swift's own drinking, cheating, 
 and cringing man, Patrick. Steele, 
 in his Spectator, shows that most of 
 the vices of servants are due to the 
 ill-conduct of their masters, which 
 the example of Sir Eoger, in this 
 paper, is meant, in all kindness, to 
 correct. " All dependants," he ob- 
 serves, " run in some measure into 
 the measures and behaviour of those 
 whom they serve," — a fact which he 
 humorously illustrates thus : — 
 
 " Falling in the other day at a vic- 
 tualling-house near the House of 
 Peer.s, I heard the maid come down 
 
 and tell the landlady at the bar, that 
 my Lord Bishop swore he would throw 
 her out at window if she did not bring 
 up some more mild beer, and that my 
 Lord Duke would have a double mug 
 of purl. My surprise was increased 
 on hearing loud and rustic voices 
 speak and answer to each other upon 
 tne public affairs by tlie names of the 
 most illustrious of our nobility; till 
 of a sudden one came running in and 
 cried the House was rising. Down 
 came all the company together, and 
 away : the ale-house was immediately 
 filled with clamour, and scoring one 
 mug to the Marquis of such a place, 
 oil and vinegar to such an Earl, three 
 quarts to my new Lord for wetting 
 his title, and so forth. It is a thing 
 too notorious to mention the crowds 
 of servants, and their insolence, near 
 the courts of justice, and the stairs 
 towards the supreme assembly, where 
 there is an universal mockery of aU 
 order, such riotous clamour and licen- 
 tious confusion, that one would think 
 the whole nation lived in jest, and 
 there were no such thing as rule and 
 distinction among us." 
 
 Upon this passage the Rev. James 
 Townley wrote the farce of Sigh lAfe 
 below Stairs, first acted at Drury-lane 
 in 1759. 
 
 rniENDSHip or addison and 
 
 STEELE. 
 
 Addison tried, with little success, 
 to keep Steele out of scrapes ; intro- 
 duced him to the great, procured a 
 good place for him, corrected his 
 plays, and, though by no means rich, 
 lent him large sums of money. One 
 of these loans appears, from a letter 
 dated in August, 1708, to have 
 amounted to a thousand pounds. 
 These pecuniary transactions probably 
 led to frequent bickerings. It is said 
 that, on one occasion, Steele's negli- 
 gence, or dishonesty, provoked Addi- 
 son to repay himself by help of a 
 bailiff. The real history, we have 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 83 
 
 little doubt, was sometliing like this : 
 — A letter comes to Addison, implor- 
 ing help in pathetic terms, and pro- 
 mising reformation and speedy repay- 
 ment. Poor Dick declares that he 
 has not an inch of candle, or a bushel 
 of coals, or credit with the butcher 
 for a shoulder of mutton. Addison 
 is moved. He determines to deny 
 himself some medals which are want- 
 ing to his series of tlie Twelye Caesars; 
 to put off buying the new edition of 
 Bayle's Bictionary, and to wear his old 
 sword and buckles another year. In 
 this way he manages to send a hun- 
 dred pounds to his friend. The next 
 day he calls on Steele, and finds scores 
 of ladies and gentlemen assembled; 
 the fiddles are playing; the table is 
 groaning under champagne. Burgundy, 
 and pyramids of sweetmeats. Is it 
 strange that a man whose kindness is 
 thus abused should send sheriffs' 
 officers to reclaim what is due to him ? 
 — Mr. John Forsier. 
 
 voltaibe's leiieks. 
 It is the characteristic of Voltaire's 
 Letters that they combine the extreme 
 of simplicity with the language cur- 
 rent in a society that relished the art 
 of neat and weU-tumed writing. In 
 a letter written shortly before his 
 death, he speaks of himself as the 
 patient of the Rue de Baune, and tells 
 his doctor, to whom he is writing, 
 that " the patient has had aU night, 
 and stUl has, violent fits of coughing. 
 He asks pardon for giving so much 
 trouble about a corpse." We do not 
 now-a-days write in this way to our 
 doctors ; and yet it seems very natural 
 that Voltaire should have written so. 
 In 1771, he writes from Femey to 
 Madame St. Julian a letter beginning, 
 "WUl the fair Diana who has van- 
 quished so many hearts and killed so 
 many partridges, who is light as a 
 butterfly and wise as Minerva — ^vrill 
 she deign to receive the homage of an 
 old owl of Mount Jura ?" In writing 
 
 to M. Marin, in 1774, he commences 
 by saying, " The invalid of fourscore, 
 who IS buried under ten feet of snow, 
 has scarcely strength to write; he 
 cannot make up his mind to dictate a 
 letter to Messieurs the inhabitants of 
 Paris, unless he has something to send 
 worth the trouble of sending it. For 
 onee, he happens to have something 
 to say." It was impossible for Vol- 
 taire to forget that in writing to a 
 friend he was writing to " Messieurs 
 the inhabitants of Paris," and he wrote 
 what they would like to read, just as 
 he thought it a piece of acceptable 
 gallantry to call a lady a butterfly and 
 a Diana — he obeyed, as he also guided 
 and sustained, the fashion of the time. 
 It is to the credit, therefore, of the 
 age, as well as to that of the writer 
 himself, that even in his most fanciful 
 conceits there is always such perfec- 
 tion of good taste. 
 
 More than one letter shows how 
 truly Voltaire could enjoy the plea- 
 sures and occupations of the country. 
 In 1763, soon after the Peace of Paris, 
 he writes to M. de Chenevieres, who 
 held an ofiice under the Minister of 
 War:- 
 
 " Thank God, you have no more 
 military hospitals to direct ; we shall 
 have fewer legs and arms cut off, and 
 more labourers in our fields ; and this 
 is what I care most about, for I am a 
 good agriculturist, and should make a 
 very bad soldier. I am now laying 
 out a sort of park, about a league in 
 circuit, and I have a prospect of 
 twenty leagues to look at. How do 
 you suppose I can go to Paris in the 
 spring? I should think myself the 
 most wretched of men if I saw the 
 spring anywhere else than in my own 
 domam. I pity those who do not 
 enjoy nature, and who live without 
 seeing her." 
 
 Nor (lid he only love the country as 
 
 a poet, but he loved to make money 
 
 there. We find him writing to the 
 
 Marquis d'Aigenson, that he' had 
 
 g2 
 
84 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 taken to horse-breeding, and that he 
 ■wished for a nominal office in con- 
 nexion with the royal stables, in order 
 to be a great man among grooms and 
 dealers. He tells us he is fond of his 
 oxen, " qui lui font leurs gros douw 
 yeux ;" but he was prudent enough to 
 care for his own profit as well as for 
 the eyes of his cattle. His schemes 
 for enriching himself and others were 
 numberless. He gratified his love of 
 activity, or gain, and of doing good, 
 for instance, at once, by the estab- 
 lishment he set up at Ferney for the 
 manufacture of clocks, and many of 
 his letters refer to this colony, as 
 he calls it, and show how heartily 
 he entered into whatever he took in 
 hand. 
 
 Although his letters add little to 
 our knowledge of Voltaire's political 
 opinions, they bring before us very 
 forcibly the sagacity with which he 
 regarded the events of his day, and 
 the frankness with which he declared 
 ■what he thought. He saw very clearly 
 some traits in the popular character 
 ■which made him resolve not to yield 
 easily to the judgment of his country- 
 men. "It is always," he says, in a 
 letter to M. Constant de Rebecque, 
 " a difficult matter with me to under- 
 stand how a nation so agreeable can 
 be at the same time so ferocious ; how 
 it can pass so easily from the opera to 
 the massacre of St. Bartholomew; can 
 be composed now of dancing monkeys, 
 now of roaring bears ; can be so in- 
 genious yet so imbecile, so courageous 
 and so cowardly." He was always 
 ready with his applause for any go- 
 vernment that he thought honestly 
 ■wished to do its duty. Even in ex- 
 treme old age, he took the greatest 
 interest in. watching the course of 
 Louis XVI., upheld him when, as he 
 thought, the Parliament showed itself 
 ■ungrateful to its restorer, and per- 
 suaded himself that the good purpose 
 and the patriotism of the young king 
 must reap their harvest, and that an 
 
 era of great prosperity and tranquillity 
 was setting m just as lie himself was 
 about to quit the world. " It is like 
 ]aua;hing at the world," he writes in 
 1776, "to quit it while Louis XVI. 
 reigns, and M. Turgot governs our 
 affairs. Enjfty the golden age of 
 which you see the dawn." He felt 
 tliat his own work had been a suc- 
 cessful one, and that the spirit he had 
 laboured to spread abroad had been 
 widely received. " I myself, " he 
 writes in 1769, "shall not eat the 
 fruits of the tree of toleration which 
 I have planted. I am too old; my 
 teeth are all gone ; but you may be 
 sure that you will one day enjoy 
 them." — Abridged from the Saturday 
 Review. 
 
 Voltaire having paid some high 
 compliments to the celebrated Haller, 
 was told that Haller was not in the 
 habit of speaking so favourably of 
 him. "Ah !" said Voltaire, with an air 
 of philosophic indulgence, "I dare say, 
 we are both of us very much mis- 
 taken." 
 
 VOLTAIKE IN LOVE. 
 
 There is in Voltaire's life a phase 
 on which we look with pleasure — a 
 short poem of youth and love, which 
 might have retrieved the man, if he 
 had been retrievable. Perhaps Vol- 
 taire did love once — perhaps once the 
 dew from heaven softened that dry 
 and horny heart. Tlie following little 
 tale is from Arsene Houssaye's Philo- 
 sophers and Actresses : — 
 
 " One day," said Voltaire, " when I 
 had nothing to do, a young girl pre- 
 sented herself before me. She was so 
 beautiful that I arose before her, like 
 a point of admiration. She was 
 clothed, for charity's sake, in a dress 
 of beautiful materials, but long since 
 faded. I begged her to be seated; 
 she preferred to remain standing. ' M. 
 Voltaire,' she said, ' ray destiny is the 
 stage; it is my last resource, for I 
 have neither father nor mother : but. 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 85 
 
 l)efore making my debut, it is neces- 
 sary for me to take some lessons. 
 You are acquainted with Mdlle. 
 Lecouvreur.' I interrupted tlie young 
 girl : ' Mdlle. Lecouvreur, like all 
 great actresses, took lessons of her 
 heart. However, if jou wish it, I 
 will take you to her. But what will 
 she teach you ? Slie will teach you 
 to speak, not with your own feelings, 
 but with hers. Have you ever loved ?' 
 The young girl blushed, and appeared 
 confused. I put on my sweetest 
 smile and approached her. ' Trust to 
 me; I will give you lessons. The 
 preface to the theatre is love.' I 
 seized her hand, and carried it to my 
 lips, with a tenderness that was some- 
 what rough. ' What is your name ?' 
 I asked her. 'Aurore de Livry.' 
 'Where do you live?' 'Kue St. 
 Andre des Arts, where my mother 
 died, and where I owe more ihan 
 eighty crowns.' 'I will not give 
 you any money, for a very good 
 reason,' said I to her, 'because if 
 I do you will feel for me gratitude, 
 not love ; but my house is at your 
 service.' " 
 
 Mdlle. de Livry's affection for Vol- 
 taire lasted six long weeks. Who can 
 boast of having secured so long a 
 woman's love ? One day she said — 
 " I will go on before you to the 
 theatre," and she never returned. 
 Voltaire wept ! — he shed real tears for 
 the first and the last time in his life. 
 One day she wrote to him, asking for 
 her slippers. The only reflection Vol- 
 taire made, after reading her epistle, 
 was : " How could I love a woman 
 who spells pantoufle with two /'s !" 
 Such was that wonderful man, who 
 might have done so much good, and 
 who did so much harm. With less 
 ■wit, and more eloquence, Voltaire 
 would have reached that universality 
 to which he aspired. But warm heart 
 and cold sarcasm seldom go together. 
 Such was his desire to show off his 
 wit, that he never spared a friend 
 
 whenever he found an opportunity for 
 uttering a bon mot ; and even at his 
 last moment he sacrificed his soul to a 
 supreme witticism. The priest, at 
 his deathbed, was reading tne Scrip- 
 tures. Voltaire, with Death's finger- 
 print on his brow, seemed to listen 
 attentively — apparently, the truth was 
 making its way to his heart ; when 
 suddenly a dying smile wandered on 
 that old man's withered and emaciated 
 face, and the priest asked him if he 
 believed in the divinity of Christ. 
 The philosopher's answer was : " Por 
 God's sake, M. le Cure, don't talk to 
 me of that man !" So his last word 
 was a blasphemy. 
 
 Pox told Sogers that Lord William 
 Bentinck once mvited Poote to meet 
 him and some others at dinner in St. 
 James's-street ; and that they were 
 rather surprisedatLord William having 
 done so, expecting that Foote would 
 prove only a bore, and a check on their 
 conversation. "But," said Pox, "we 
 soon found that we were mistaken; 
 whatever we talked about, whether 
 fox-hunting, the turf, or any other 
 subject, Poote instantly took the lead, 
 and delighted us all." 
 
 The original of Sir Matthew Mite 
 (his father having been a cheese- 
 monger) was a General Smith; to 
 whose country-house some one took 
 Poote on their way to town : he slept 
 there, and was treated with every 
 civility by Smith ; but said, before 
 they were a hundred yards from his 
 liouse, " I think I can't possibly miss 
 him now, having had such a good 
 sitting." 
 
 A canting old lady said, "Pray, 
 Mr. Poote, do you ever go to church ?" 
 " No, Madam," replied Poote; "not 
 that I see any harm in it." 
 
 Tarring and feathering, "whea 
 properly mixed," Poote remarked, 
 " make a genteel kind of dress; it is 
 Tcry light, keeps out the rain, and 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 sticks extremely close to the 
 skin." 
 
 Wedderburn(Lord Longhborough), 
 though he loved society, never shone 
 in it. " What can he mean," cried 
 Eoote, " by coming among us ? He is 
 not only dull himself, but the cause 
 of dulness in. others." Yet, to men 
 of genius he was uniformly kind, 
 and showed himself the enlightened 
 and generous protector of merit. 
 
 EOOTE PLAYING PUNCH. 
 
 In the forty-fifth Tatler, Steele 
 publishes to the world that puppet- 
 shows are permitted at Oxford ; and 
 inserts a letter from a correspondent 
 "from Mother Gourdon's, at Heding- 
 ton, near Oxon," complaining of some 
 indecencies of Punch, who disturbs a 
 soft love-scene with his ribaldry. Then 
 follow some curious speculations as 
 to the antiquity and chronology of 
 Punch, tracing it to Thespis and his 
 cart, the parts being recited by one 
 person, as the custom was before 
 ^schylus. 
 
 Somewhat later, there was witnessed 
 at Oxford a performance of the puppet 
 by one who grew to be a prince of 
 humourists : Murphy believes that 
 Poote noted Punch in disguise during 
 his student career at Worcester Col- 
 lege, in Oxford, 1737-40. 
 
 We imagine the Punch of 1709 in 
 full play at Oxford: there were then 
 more pitches than now for his theatre : 
 notwithstanding his supposed classical 
 origin, he would not be tolerated in 
 Tom Quad. "The Broad" would 
 afford verge enough for tlie spectators; 
 we imagine the cracked voice of the 
 old hook-nosed libertine, and theshriek 
 of his Judy, re-echoing through one of 
 the many lone spots and leafy corners 
 of the time-worn city; and, curiously 
 enough, should the reader step into 
 the Bodleian, and examine its MS. 
 treasures, he will there fmd, in a 
 French romance of the fourteenth 
 century, an illuminated drawing of a 
 
 puppet-show drawn with great dis- 
 tinctness, the figures bearing an almost 
 exact resemblance to the modem por- 
 traits of Punch and Judy. 
 
 MEMOET-MEN. 
 
 What a legion of absurdities have 
 been perpetrated by Memory-men, each 
 of whom has a system of his own. 
 Macklin asserted that, by his system, 
 he could learn anything by rote at 
 once hearing it. This was enough for 
 Poote, who, at the close of a lecture, 
 handed up the following sentences to 
 Macklin, desiring that he would be 
 good enough to read them, and after- 
 wards repeat them from memory. 
 Here is the wondrous nonsense : 
 
 " So she went into the garden to 
 cut a cabbage-leaf, to make an apple- 
 pie, and at the same time a great she- 
 bear, coming up the street, pops its 
 head into the shop. 'What! no soap?' 
 So he died, and she very imprudently 
 married the barber; and there wore 
 present the Picninni^s, and the Job- 
 lillies, and the Garycelies, and the 
 Grand Panjandrum himself, vrith tlie 
 little round button at top ; and they 
 all fell to playing the game of catch 
 as catch can, till the gunpowder ran 
 out of the heels of their boots." 
 
 The laugh turned strong against 
 old Macklin ; and the laugh has been 
 echoed from the Great Piazza Room 
 by thousands during the century that 
 has elapsed since Foote's drollery pat 
 out Macklin's monstrous memory with 
 these straws of ridicule. 
 
 A NAREOW ESCAPE — EEADING IN 
 BED. 
 
 WMe in Dublin, Poote's life was 
 endangered by an accident, which he 
 thus described in a letter to Garrick, 
 dated December 31, 1773, and printed 
 for the first time by Mr. Porster. 
 "Had it not been for the coolness and 
 resolution of my old friend, and your 
 great admirer, Jewel, your humble 
 servant would last night have been 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 87 
 
 reduced to ashes, by reading in bed, 
 that cursed custom. The candle set 
 fire to the curtains, and the bed was 
 instantly set in a blaze. He rushed 
 in, hauled me out of the room, tore 
 down and trampled the paper and 
 curtains, and so extinguished the 
 flames. The bed was burnt, and poor 
 Jewel's hands most miserably scorched. 
 So you see, my dear Sir, no man can 
 foresee the great ends for which he 
 was born. Macklin, though a block- 
 head in his manhood and youth, turns 
 out a wit and a writer on the brink 
 of the grave ; and Foote, never very 
 remarkable for his personal graces, in 
 the decline of his life was very near 
 becoming a toast." 
 
 The letter thus concludes : " Adieu, 
 my dear Sir. A good night, and God 
 bless you. Take care of the candle. 
 "Samuel Foote." 
 
 foote akd bk. johnson. 
 
 Mr. Forster has thus pleasantly 
 grouped a few of the meetings of the 
 dramatist and the doctor: "It was 
 at Foote's dinner-table Johnson made 
 the memorable disclosure of having 
 written in a garret in Exeter-street, 
 one of the most admired of the speeches 
 of Mr. Pitt. It is Foote who tells 
 the story of Johnson's- Jacobite sym- 
 pathies breaking out so strangely on 
 their visiting Bedlam together, when 
 he again and again returned to the 
 cell of the poor furious madman, who, 
 while beating his straw, supposed he 
 was beating the Duke of Cumberland. 
 It was Foote who made him roar when 
 some one remarked of the Rockingham 
 ministry, that they were fatigued to 
 death, and quite at their wits' end, 
 whereupon the humourist rejoined, 
 that the fatigue could hardly have 
 arisen from the length of the journey. 
 
 TJNLTJCKY CREDITOR. 
 
 One of Foote's pleasantries upon 
 paying debts occurs in his comedy of 
 
 the Lame Lover, in which one of the 
 characters. Sir Luke Limp, tells this 
 story : " One morning a Welsh coach- 
 maker came with his bill to my lord, 
 whose name was unluckily Lloyd. 
 My lord had the man up. You are 
 called, I think, Mr. Lloyd ? At your 
 lordship's service, my lord. What, 
 Lloyd with an L ! It was with an 
 L, indeed, my lord. Because in your 
 part of the world I have heard that 
 Lloyd and Floyd were synonymous, 
 the very same names. Very often, 
 indeed, my lord. But you always 
 speU yours with an L r Always. 
 That, Mr. Lloyd, is a little unlucky; 
 for you must know I am now paying 
 my debts alphabetically, and in four 
 or five years you might have come in 
 with an F; but I am afraid I can 
 give you no hopes for your L. Ha, 
 ha, ha !" 
 
 EOOTE AND THE SCOTCH. 
 
 When in Edinburgh, Foote gave 
 sumptuous dinners to the first society; 
 though his mode of preparing for 
 these entertainments was a strange 
 kind of satire upon Scottish economy. 
 Jewel, his treasurer, used to relate 
 that while Foote remained there he 
 papered up the curls of his wig every 
 night before he went to bed, with the 
 One Pound notes of Scotland — to 
 show his contempt for promissory 
 paper of so little value, which was 
 not then in English circulation. When 
 his cook attended him next morning 
 for orders for dinner, he unrolled the 
 curls on each side of his head, giving 
 her One Pound notes to purchase 
 provisions ad libitum ; and then sent 
 her to market in a sedan-chair ! 
 
 HOENE IOOKE's HUMOUR. 
 
 The reminiscences of Home Tooke, 
 in Mr. '^^eis's Memorandum-book, are 
 occasionally curious. His literal kind 
 of wit — set off, as tradition recounts, 
 by a courteous manner and by imper- 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 turbaUe coolness — is not ill shown in 
 the following : — " ' Power,' said Lord 
 to Tooke, ' should follow pro- 
 perty.' ' Very well,' he replied, ' then 
 we will take the property from you, 
 and the power shall follow it.' "... 
 " ' Now, young man, as you are settled 
 in town,' said my uncle, ' I would ad- 
 vise you to take a wife.' ' With all 
 my heart, sir; whose wife shall I 
 take ?' " It is a trait of manners 
 that the "Rev. Mr. Horne" must 
 have been a young clergyman at the 
 time of this conversation ; he did not, 
 as is well known, take the name of 
 Tooke till a later period. We have 
 a trace, too, of his philological acute- 
 ness in Mr. Rogers's pages : — " An 
 illiterate people is most tenacious of 
 their language. In traific the seller 
 learns that of the buyer before the 
 buyer learns his. A bull in the field, 
 when brought to town and cut up in 
 the market, becomes boeuf, beef; a 
 calf, veal ; a sheep, mouton ; a pig, 
 pork; — because tliere the Norman 
 purchased, and the seller soon learnt 
 his terms ; while the peasantry re- 
 tained their own." It is not sur- 
 prising that a sharp logical wit 
 should be an acute interpreter of lan- 
 guage. 
 
 Home Tooke took delight in 
 praising his daughters, which lie some- 
 times did by those equivocating false- 
 hoods which were one of his principal 
 pleasures. Of his eldest daughter he 
 baid : " All the beer brewed in the 
 house is of that younglady's brewing." 
 It would have been equally true had 
 he said, " All the hogs killed in this 
 house are of that young lady's kill- 
 ing ;" for they brewed no beer. When 
 a member of the Constitutional So- 
 ciety, Tooke frequently uttered sen- 
 tences, the first part of which would 
 have subjected him to death by tlie 
 law, but for the salvo that followed ; 
 and the more violent they were, thus 
 contrasted and equivocatory, the 
 greater was his delight. 
 
 HAFrsr EESOUBCE. 
 
 In extraordinary times of peril, it 
 has been remarked that public amuse- 
 ments in cities have been supported 
 rather than neglected. George Col- 
 man the Elder relates that during the 
 Riots in London, in 1780, on the 7th 
 of June, on which day and night de- 
 solation had attained its climax, and 
 the metropolis is said to have been 
 seen from one spot blazing in thirty-six 
 different parts, the receipt of the 
 Haymarket Theatre exceecled twenty 
 pounds ! How, instead of twenty 
 pounds' worth of spectators, twenty 
 persons, or one person, could have 
 calmly paid money to witness, in the 
 midst of this general dismay, a the- 
 atrical entertainment, may appear 
 astonishing. During the rrenoh Re- 
 volutions sucli instances have not 
 been rare ; and have been attributed 
 to the eagerness of tlie people to fly 
 from the terrific realities of rapine, 
 fire, and slaughter, and thus beguile 
 them of their terrors. 
 
 A DISTIKCTION. 
 
 One day, when Colman and his son 
 were walking from Soho-square to 
 the Haymarket, two withngs. Miles 
 Peter Andrews and William Augustus 
 Miles, were coming the contrary way, 
 on the opposite side of the street. 
 They had each sent to Colman a dra- 
 matic manuscript for the summer 
 theatre ; and being anxious to get the 
 start of each other, in the production 
 of their separate works, they both 
 called out "Remember, Colman, I 
 am first oar.'' " Humph," muttered 
 the manager, as they passed on, " they 
 may talk about first oars, but t.hey 
 have not a skull between them." This 
 reminds one of a witticism of Douglas 
 Jerrold's : two conceited young au- 
 thors were boasting that they rowed 
 in tlie same boat with a celebrated 
 wit of the day, — "Ay," replied 
 Jerrold, "but not witii the same 
 skulls." 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 89 
 
 COLMiN AT CAELTON HOXJSE. 
 
 In the autumn of 1811, the Duke 
 of York obtained leave (from the 
 King's Bench) for Colman to dine at 
 Carlton House. He accompanied tlie 
 Duke thither; and on his walking 
 through the apartments with him, 
 Colman remarked, " What excellent 
 lodgings ! I have nothing like them 
 in-tlie King's Bench !" After dinner, 
 he exclaimed, — " Eh ! why this is 
 wine; pray do tell me who that fine- 
 looking fellow' l;^at the head of the 
 table." The good-nat^ired Duke said, 
 "Hush, George, you'll get iuto a 
 scrape." "No, no," said Colman, in 
 a louder voice, " I am come out to 
 enjoy myself; I want to know who 
 that fine, square-shoiildered, magnifi- 
 cent-looking, agreeable fellow is at 
 the head of the table." " Be quiet, 
 George," interrupted the Duke, "you 
 know it is the Prince." "Why, 
 then," continued Colman, still louder, 
 " he is your elder brother. I declare, 
 he don't look half your age. Well ! 
 I remember the time when he sang a 
 good song; and as I am out for a 
 lark for only one day, if he is the 
 same good fellow that he used to be, 
 he would not refuse an old play- 
 fellow." The Prince laughed, and 
 sang. " What a magnificent voice !" 
 exclaimed Colman. " I have heard 
 nothing to be compared to it for 
 years. Such expression, too ! I'll 
 be damned if I don't engage him for 
 my theatre." It would appear that 
 this freak gave no offence to the Royal 
 host ; for Colman was ever treated 
 with kindness by George IV. Mr. 
 Peake, who relates the above anec- 
 dote, in his Memoirs of the Colman 
 Taniily, informs us, in a note, that it 
 was communicated to him by an ac- 
 complished nobleman who was an 
 eye-witness of the scene. 
 
 A QCACK DOCTOE AND HIS MEEET 
 ANDEEW. 
 
 When little Thomas Holcroft was 
 
 trudging about the country with his 
 father as a pedlar, in the middle of 
 the last century, he saw, for the first 
 time, atWisbeachfair, those then dear 
 delightful creatures, a quack doctor, 
 peeping from behind his curtain, and 
 that droll devil, his Merry Andrew. 
 " It was," he tells us, " a pleasure so 
 unexpected, so exquisite, so rich and 
 rare, that I followed the Merry An- 
 drew and his drummer through the 
 streets, gliding under arms and be- 
 tween legs, never long together three 
 yards apart from him ; almost bursting 
 with laughter at his extreme comi- 
 cality ; tracing the gridirons, punchi- 
 nellos, and pantomime figures on his 
 jacket ; wondering at the manner in 
 which he twirled his hat in the air, 
 and again caught it so dexterously on 
 his head. My curiosity did not abate 
 when he examined to see if there was 
 not some little devil hid within it, 
 with a grotesque squint of his eyes, 
 twist of his nose, and the exclama- 
 tion, ' Oh, oh ! have I caught you, 
 Mr. Imp ?'— making a snatch at the 
 inside of his hat, grasping at some- 
 thing, opening his hand, finding 
 nothing in it, and then crying with a 
 stupid stare, ' No, you see, good 
 folks, the devil of any devil is here !' 
 Then, again, when he returned to the 
 stage, followed by an eager crowd, 
 and in an imperious tone was ordered 
 by his master to mount, — to see the 
 comical jump he gave, alighting half 
 upright, roaring with pretended pain, 
 pressing his hip, declaring he had put 
 out his collar-bone, crying to his 
 master to come and cure it ; receiving 
 a kick, springing up, and making a 
 somerset ; thanking his master kindly 
 for making him well ; yet the moment 
 his back was turned, mocking him 
 with wry faces ; answering the doctor, 
 whom I should have thought extremely 
 witty, if Andrew had not been there, 
 with jokes so apposite and whimsical, 
 as never failed to produce roars of 
 laughter. As it was the first scene 
 
90 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 of the kind that I ever witnessed, so 
 it was the most ecstatic. I think it 
 hy no means improbable, that an 
 ardent love of the dramatic art took 
 root in my mind from the incidents of 
 that day." 
 
 A LEABNED MANAGER. 
 
 Holcroft tells of a patriarchal ma- 
 nager, who, from his blunders and 
 stupidity, was the butt of the whole 
 company. Among other instances 
 related of his talent for absurdity, he 
 wished to have Shylook, in the Mer- 
 chant of Venice, played in the dialect 
 of Duke's-place, and was positive 
 Shakspeare intended it so. He once 
 told the Duke in Othello, a messenger 
 was arrived from the gallows, instead 
 of the galleys; and, in playing the 
 part of Bardolph, where that worthy 
 person, descanting on the fieriness of 
 his nose, says, "Behold these me- 
 teors, these exhalations," he used to 
 lift his hands to heaven with a solemn 
 flourish, as if he had really seen " the 
 heavens on fire." 
 
 IRISH BLUNDERS. 
 
 Holcroft relates a story of a billiard- 
 marker, a garrulous old Irishman, who 
 affirmed that Irish wafers were better 
 than English: the reason he gave 
 was, that after a letter was sealed, 
 you might open it, with an English 
 wafer, but not with an Irish. He pre- 
 tended to talk philosophy ; said there 
 was but one colour, and that the way 
 to prove it was to produce total dark- 
 ness, and then a brown dog would be 
 white. The sun, he said, regulated 
 the tides ; and it is the moon, not the 
 sun, that is the cause of light. 
 
 CITY SCANDAL. 
 
 When Sir Dudley North settled in 
 a convenient house in Basinghall- 
 street, he had the opportunity of a 
 good housekeeper that had been his 
 mother's woman : " though," says his 
 biographer, "some thought her too 
 
 fine for a single man, as he was, and 
 might give scandal, and occasion his 
 habitation being called 5assinghall- 
 street." 
 
 Sheridan's portrait. 
 Abraham Raimbach, who was pupil 
 of Hall, at the time he was engraving 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds's portrait of 
 Richard Brinsley Sheridan, relates 
 that he (S.) came two or three times 
 during the engraving, "and my me- 
 mory dwells with pleasure to this 
 hour on the recollection of his having 
 said a few kindly and encouraging 
 words to me, when a boj, drawing at 
 the time in the study. I was, how- 
 ever, most struck with what seemed 
 to me, in such a man, an undue and 
 unbecoming air about his good looks 
 in the portrait to be executed. The 
 eflioresoence in his face had been in- 
 dicated by Sir Joshua in the picture, 
 not, it may be presumed, a ban. are on 
 the part of Sheridan, and it was 
 strongly evident that he deprecated 
 its transfer to the print. I need 
 scarcely observe that Hall set his 
 mind at ease on this point." 
 
 Sheridan's borrowings. 
 The stories of the shifts to which 
 Sheridan was driven are numerous. 
 In 1786, when about to entertain a 
 large party of the opposition leaders 
 at dinner, all his plate as well as his 
 books were lodged in pawn. Becket, 
 the bookseller, of PaU Mall, lent him 
 books to fill his empty cases, on con- 
 dition that they should be returned 
 next day, and the persons sent with 
 the books wore liveries, and waited 
 at table. The pawnbroker promised 
 to lend the plate; but when every- 
 thing was ready for serving dinner, it 
 happened that, either from the pawn- 
 broker's distrust, or from some un- 
 foreseen delay on his part, the spoons 
 and forks haa not arrived. Repeated 
 messages were dispatched to hasten 
 them, and they at last made their ap- 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 91 
 
 pearance ; but so critically and so 
 late, that there not being time left to 
 clean them, they were thrown into 
 hot water, wipeo, and instantly laid 
 on the table. The evening then passed 
 in the most joyous and festive manner. 
 
 Here is an instance of another kind 
 of borrovfing. As Sheridan was walk- 
 ing down to the House with Sir 
 Philip Francis and another friend, 
 on the day when the Address of 
 Thanks on the Peace was moved. Sir 
 Philip pithily remarked, that "it 
 was a Peace which every one would 
 be glad of, and no one would be proud 
 of." Sheridan, who was in a hurry 
 to get to the House, did not appear to 
 attend to the observation ; but before 
 he had been many minutes in his seat, 
 he rose, and in the course of a short 
 speech, said : " This, sir, is a Peace, 
 which every one will be glad of, but 
 no one can be proud of." 
 
 A similar theft was his observation, 
 that "half the debt of England had 
 been incurred in putting down the 
 Bourbons, and the other half in setting 
 them up," which pointed remark he 
 had heard in conversation from Sir 
 Arthur Pigott.* 
 
 Tarleton, a friend of Sheridan, 
 having quarrelled with him, swore he 
 would never be friends again ; for he 
 never pulled off his hat to him in the 
 street but it cost him fifty pounds, 
 and if he trusted himself in the same 
 room a hundred. 
 
 Lord John Russell tells a good 
 trick of Sheridan's upon Richardson. 
 Sheridan had been driving out three 
 or four hours in a hackney coach, 
 
 * It will be rememtered that, both be- 
 fore and after his trial, lord Lovat 
 amused every one near him with his jests. 
 When he Imd received sentence, he ex- 
 claimed, on quitting the bar, " Farewell, 
 my Lords, we shall never all again meet 
 in the same place;" a retort which, as 
 Xord Mahon notices, is transferred by 
 Byron, without acknowledgment, to his 
 Israel Bertuccio. ("Doge of Venice," 
 act 5, scene 1.) 
 
 when, seeing Richardson pass, he 
 hailed him and made him get in. He 
 instantly contrived to introduce a 
 topic upon which Richardson (who 
 was the very soulofdisputatiousness) 
 always differed with him ; and at last, 
 affecting to be mortified at Richard- 
 son's arguments, said, "You really 
 are too bad, I cannot bear to listen to 
 such things ; I will not stay in the 
 same coach with you." And accord- 
 ingly got down and left him, Richard- 
 son hallooing out triumphantly, "Ah, 
 you're beat, you're beat !" Nor was 
 it till the heat of his victory had a 
 little cooled, that he found out he 
 was left in the lurch to pay for Sheri- 
 dan's three hours' coaching. 
 
 In a debate on the Union with Ire- 
 land, Pitt, in answer to Sheridan, said, 
 he (S.) seemed determined to have 
 the last word ; to which Sheridan re- 
 phed, he was satisfied with having the 
 last argument. 
 
 We happened to know a friend of 
 Sheridan's, who, being at Polesden 
 when some great political news ar- 
 rived, Sheridan, in the fulness of his 
 joy, proposed to give the country- 
 people a few barrels of beer to drink 
 in the village. The brewer was sent 
 for, but declined to supply the beer 
 upon credit to Sheridan's order; the 
 people grew clamorous for the beer, 
 which was, at length, rolled out into 
 the street, upon Sheridan's friend 
 undertaking that it should be settled 
 for, — and he had to pay the money ! 
 
 When Sheridan was Paymaster of 
 the Navy at Somerset House,* the 
 butcher brought a leg of mutton to 
 the kitchen. The cook took it, 
 and putting it into the kettle to boil, 
 went upstairs for the money, as the 
 butcher was not to leave the joint 
 
 * We once heard a pawnbroker in the 
 Strand relate how he had frequently ad- 
 vanced money upon the wine-cellar of a 
 gentleman iu Somerset House, the hey 
 being deposited with him. Could this 
 borrower have been Sheridan ? 
 
92 
 
 GOOD THINGS, 
 
 witliout it. As ste stayed rather 
 long, tlie buteher very coolly took off 
 the cover, took out the mutton, and 
 walked away. This was told by the 
 cook to the porter of the Royal Aca- 
 demy, who, being Haydon's model, 
 told it to him as he was sitting. We 
 have been told a precisely similar 
 incident as having occurred at Poles- 
 den, Sheridan's seat, near Leather- 
 head, where we heard the story. 
 
 A creditor, whom Sheridan had 
 perpetually avoided, met him at last, 
 plump, coming out of Pall Mall, from 
 St. James's Palace. There was no 
 possibility of avoiding him, but S. 
 never lost his presence of mind. 
 "Oh," said Sheridan, "that's a beau- 
 tiful mare you are on." "D'ye think 
 so ?" " Yes, indeed. How does she 
 trot ?" The creditor, flattered, told 
 him he should see, and immediately 
 put her into full trotting pace. The 
 instant he trotted off, Sheridan turned 
 into Pall Mall again, and was out of 
 sight in a moment. 
 
 Once, when Sheridan was dining 
 with some friends at Somerset House, 
 and they were all in high feather, in 
 rushed the servant, and said, " Sir, 
 the house is on fire !" " Bring another 
 bottle of claret," said Sheridan, "it is 
 not my house." 
 
 CHARLES LAMB. 
 
 It is told of Charles Lamb, that one 
 afternoon returning from a dinner- 
 party, having taken a seat in a crowded 
 omnibus, a stout gentleman subse- 
 quently looked in, and politely asked, 
 " All fidl inside?" " I don't know how 
 it may be with the other passengers," 
 answered Lamb, " but that last piece 
 of oyster-pie did the business for me" 
 
 Coleridge, during one of his inter- 
 minable table-talks, said to Lamb, 
 " Charley, did you ever hear me 
 preach ?" " I never heard you do 
 anything else," was the prompt and 
 witty reply of Elia, which has become 
 a favourite byword at the present day. 
 
 The regular routine of clerkly busi- 
 ness ill suited the literary tastes and 
 the wayward though innocent habits 
 of our essayist. Once at the India 
 House, one in authority said to him 
 — " I have remarked, Mr. Lamb, that 
 you come very late in the morning." 
 "Yes, sir," replied the wit, "but I 
 go away early m the afternoon." The 
 oddness of the excuse silenced the 
 reprover, who turned away with a 
 smile. 
 
 A retired cheesemonger, who hated 
 any allusion to the business that had 
 enriched him, onee remarked to Charles 
 Lamb, in the course of a discussion 
 on the poor-law, " You must bear in 
 mind, sir, that I have got rid of all 
 that stuff which you poets call the 
 'milk of human kmdness.' " Lamb 
 looked at him steadily, and gave his 
 acquiescence in these words : " Yes, 
 sir, I am aware of it ; you turned it 
 all into cheese several years ago." 
 
 Lamb was once invited by an old 
 friend to meet an author who had 
 just published a volume of poems. 
 When he arrived, being somewhat 
 early, he was asked by his host to 
 look over the volume of the expected 
 visitor. A few minutes convinced Elia 
 that it possessed very little merit, 
 being a feeble echo of different 
 authors. 
 
 This opinion of the poetaster was 
 fully confirmed by the appearance of 
 the gentleman himself, whose self- 
 conceit, and confidence in his own 
 book, were so manifest as to awaken 
 in Lamb that spirit of mischievous 
 waggery so characteristic of the hu- 
 mourist. Lamb's rapid and tenacious 
 memory enabled him during the dinner 
 to quote fluently several passages from 
 the pretender's volume. These he 
 gave with this introduction — "This 
 reminds me of some verses I wrote 
 when I was very young." He then, 
 to the astonishment of the gentleman 
 in question, quoted something from 
 the volume. 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 98 
 
 Lamb tried this a second time : tlie 
 gentleman looked still more surprised, 
 and seemed evidently bursting with 
 suppressed indignation. At last, as 
 a climax, Lamb coolly quoted the 
 well-known opening lines of Paradise 
 Lost as written by himself. 
 
 This was too much for the verse- 
 monger. He immediately rose to his 
 legs, and with an impressive solem- 
 nity of manner thus addressed the 
 claimant to so many poetical honours : 
 " Sir, I have tamely submitted all this 
 evening to hear you claim the merit 
 that may belong to any little poems 
 of my own ; this I have borne in 
 silence; but, sir, I never will sit 
 quietly by and see the immortal Mil- 
 ton robbed of Paradise Lost." 
 
 THE BEENERS-STMSET HOAX. 
 
 This, which was what may be termed 
 a stupendous hoax, was played off 
 by Theodore Hook, in 1810, upon the 
 quiet occupant of the house No. 54, 
 in Bemers-street, Oxford- street. It 
 appears that Hook and a friend 
 (Mathews or Beazeley) were one day 
 walking down Berners-street, when 
 Theodore's attention was called to 
 the particularly neat and modest 
 appearance of a house, the residence, 
 as was inferred from the door-plate, 
 of some decent shopkeeper's widow. 
 "I lay you a guinea," said Hook, 
 "that in one week that nice quiet 
 dwelling shall be the most famous in 
 all London." The bet was taken : in 
 the course of four or five days, one 
 thousand letters conveyed orders to 
 tradesmen of every sort within the 
 bills of mortality, all to be executed 
 on one particular day, and as nearly 
 as possible at one fixed hour. From 
 waggons of coals and potatoes, to books, 
 prints, feathers, ices, jellies, and cran- 
 berry-tarts — nothing, in any way 
 whatever available to any human 
 being, but was commanded from scores 
 of rival dealers between Whitechapel 
 and Paddington. In 1810, Oxford- 
 
 road was not approachable, either 
 from Westminster, or from the City, 
 otherwise than through a complicated 
 series of lanes; so that it may be 
 guessed what the crash, and jam, 
 and tumult of that day was. Hook 
 provided himself with a lodging nearly 
 opposite the ill-fated No. 54; and 
 there, with a couple of trusty allies, 
 he watched the development of this 
 mid-day melodrama. Perhaps no 
 assassination, no conspiracy, no royal 
 demise, or ministerial revolution of 
 recent times, was a greater godsend 
 to the newspapers, than this audacious 
 piece of mischief. In Hook's own 
 theatrical world he was instantly 
 suspected — but no sign escaped either 
 him or his confidants. The affair beyond 
 that circle was a serious one. Pierce 
 were the growhngs of the doctors and 
 surgeons, scores of whom had been 
 cheated of valuable hours. Attor- 
 neys, teachers of all kinds, male and 
 female hair-dressers, tailors, popular 
 preachers, parliamentary philanthro- 
 pists, had been alike victimized — and 
 were in their furious notes alike 
 vociferous. But the tangible, mate- 
 rial damage done was itself no joking 
 matter. There had been an awful 
 smashing of glass, china, harpsichords, 
 and coach-panels. Many a horse fell, 
 never to rise again. Beer-barrels 
 and wine-barrels had been overturned, 
 and exhausted with impunity amid 
 the press of countless multitudes. It 
 had been a fine field-day for the pick- 
 pockets. There arose a fervent hue 
 and cry for the detection of the whole- 
 sale deceiver and destroyer. 
 
 The following modified account of 
 the hoax appeared in one of the 
 newspapers of the next day : — " This 
 very malignant species of wit was 
 yesterday most successfully practised 
 at the house of Mrs. Tottington, a 
 lady of fortune, at No. 54 Berners- 
 street, which was beset by about a 
 dozen tradespeople at one time, with 
 their various commodities, and from 
 
«4 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 the confusion altogether, such crowds 
 had oolleoted, as to render the street 
 impassable. Waggons, laden with 
 coals from the Paddington wharves, 
 upholsterer's goods in cariloads, or- 
 gans, pianofortes, linen, jewellery, 
 and every description of furniture 
 were lodged as near as possible to the 
 door of No. 54, with anxious trades- 
 people and a laughing mob. About 
 this time, the Lord Mayor arrived in 
 his carriage, but his lordship's stay 
 was short, and he was driven 
 to Marlborough-street police-office, 
 where his lordship informed the sit- 
 ting magistrate that he had received 
 a note purporting to come from Mrs. 
 
 T , which stated that she had 
 
 been summoned to appear before him, 
 but that she was confined to her 
 room by sickness, and requested his 
 lordship would do her the honour to 
 call on her. The officers of Marl- 
 borough-street were immediately sent 
 to keep order. The first group wit- 
 nessed by them was six stout men 
 bearing an organ, surrounded by 
 wine-porters with permits, barbers 
 with wigs, manteau-makers with band- 
 boxes, opticians with instruments, 
 
 &c The street was not cleared 
 
 at a late hour, as servants wanting 
 places began to assemble at five 
 o'clock. The hoax exceeded by far 
 that in Bedford-street a few months 
 since ; for, besides a coffin which was 
 
 brought to Mrs. T 's house, made 
 
 to measure, agreeable to letter, 5 ft. 6 
 by 16 inches, there were accoucheurs, 
 tooth-drawers, miniature-painters, and 
 ■artists of every description." 
 
 Hook found it convenient, after 
 the hoax, to be laid up for a week or 
 two, and then promoted convalescence 
 by a country tour. By-and-by the 
 storm blew over, and the great un- 
 known reappeared with tranquillity in 
 the green-room. 
 
 "the HARWICH GUIDE." 
 
 The following is a humorous speci- 
 
 men of Theodore Hook's extraordinary 
 mode of improvising : 
 Old Harwich stands 
 Upon two strands, 
 
 Between the sea and Stour ; 
 Its round redoubt 
 Miglit keep foes out, 
 
 If it had a better door. 
 
 Two harbour' lights. 
 In winter nights. 
 
 May tempt a stranger in ; 
 But he'd go, no doubt. 
 To the right-about, 
 
 If he could but see the Inn. 
 
 Th' assembly-rooms 
 Are dark as tombs, 
 
 But the Church is light and gay, 
 With Epitaphs, 
 At which one laughs. 
 
 Like the moral of a play. 
 
 The Market's shut, 
 The Prison's not. 
 
 The Gardens smell of Lobstouse; 
 "We could not pass, 
 For the length of the grass. 
 
 The door of the Custom-house. 
 
 Indeed, if mowed, 
 Each s1:reet a load 
 
 "Would yield of excellent hay; 
 But the Esplanade, 
 To those who can wade. 
 
 Is passable half the day. 
 
 In the library 
 No books there be, 
 
 But a harpsichord out of tune; 
 Toys, bonnets, lace. 
 An Alderman's face, 
 
 And a plaster Laocoon. 
 
 The harbour's view, 
 Is fine, 'tis true. 
 
 If you knew but where it lay; 
 For the houses are placed. 
 With such excellent taste. 
 
 That they all look the other way. 
 
 Erom filthy slips. 
 You may see the ships. 
 
 We counted just thirteen ; 
 Two in the flood, 
 Eive in the mud. 
 
 And six in quarantine. 
 Prom Mistley Hall 
 'Tis what they caU 
 
 About ten miles in a carriage; 
 But as long as I may 
 At Mistley stay, 
 
 Be hang'd if I go to Harwich. 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 95 
 
 talleyraud's wit. 
 It being asked at Paris who they 
 would have as a godfather for Rotlis- 
 child's child, "Talleyrand," replied a 
 Frenchman." "Pourquoi, Monsieur?" 
 "Parseqii'il est le moins Chretien 
 possible." 
 
 Talleyrand was at a public diuner. 
 His health was drank. Before the 
 noise was over, he got up, made a 
 mumbling, as if speaking — spoke no- 
 tiling — made a bow, and sat down; 
 at which the applause redoubled, 
 though all those immediately about 
 him knew he never said a word. 
 Talleyrand had a double princedom : 
 he was Prince of Pengord, and 
 Prince of Hoaxers. 
 
 A gentleman in company was one 
 day making a somewhat zealous 
 eulogy of his mother's beauty, dwell- 
 ing upon the topic at uncalled-for 
 length — he himself having certainly 
 inherited no portion of that kind 
 under the marriage of his parents. 
 "It was your father, then, appa- 
 rently, who may not have been very 
 well favoured," was Talleyrand's re- 
 mark, which at once released the 
 circle from the subject. 
 
 "She is insupportable," said Tal- 
 leyrand, with marked emphasis, of 
 one well known; but, as if he had 
 gone too far, and to take something off 
 what he had said, he added, " It is 
 her only defect." 
 
 " Ah ! 1 feel the torments of hell," 
 said a person whose life had been 
 supposed to be somewhat of the 
 loosest, " Already ?" was the inquiry 
 suggested by M. Talleyrand. Cer- 
 tainly, it came naturally to him. It 
 is, however, not original; the Car- 
 dinal de Retz's physician is said to 
 have made a similar exclamation on a 
 like occasion. 
 
 It is told of Madame Talleyrand, 
 that one day her husband having told 
 her that Denon, the French savant, 
 was coming to dinner, bid her read a 
 little of his book on Egypt, just pub- 
 
 lished, in order that she might be 
 enabled to say something civil to him 
 upon it, adding that he would leave 
 the volume for her on his study-table. 
 He forgot this, however, and madame, 
 upon going into the study, found a 
 volume of Robinson Crusoe on the 
 table instead, which having read very 
 attentively, she was not long in 
 opening upon Denon after dinner 
 about the desert island, his manner of 
 living, &c., to the great astonishment 
 of poor Denon, who could not make 
 head or tail of what she meant. At 
 last, upon her saying, " Eh puis, ce 
 cher Vendredi !" he perceived she took 
 him for no less a person than Robin- 
 son Crusoe. 
 
 SYDNEY SMITH AT HOME. 
 
 Lady Holland tells us that her 
 father, when he settled in his parson- 
 age in Yorkshire, began, on a small 
 scale, to exercise his skill in medicine, 
 doing much good amongst his poor 
 neighbours, though there were often 
 ludicrous circumstances connected 
 with his early medical career. Once 
 he found all his pigs intoxicated, and, 
 as he declared, "grunting God save 
 the King about the sty," from having 
 eaten some fermented grains which he 
 had ordered for them. Once he ad- 
 ministered castor-oil to the red cow, in 
 quantities sufficient to have killed a 
 regiment of Christians; but the red 
 cow laughed alike at his skill and his 
 oil, and went on her way rejoicing. 
 Immediately on coming to Foston, as 
 early as the year 1809, he set on foot 
 gardens for the poor; and subse- 
 quently, Dutch gardens for spade cul- 
 tivation. Then the cheapest diet for 
 the poor, and cooking for the poor, 
 formed the subjects of his inquiry: 
 and many a hungry labourer was 
 brought in and stuffed with rice, or 
 broth, or porridge, to test their relar 
 tive effects on the appetite. 
 
 Sydney Smith now lived "twelve 
 miles from a lemon:" Le once took 
 
96 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 thought enough on the matter to 
 render of none avail the providence of 
 " C, the arch-epioure of the Northern 
 Circuit," who, being asked to dine 
 with Sydney, conceived it possible 
 that ducks might be in the wind. 
 "On sitting down to dinner," said 
 Sydney, " he turned round to the ser- 
 vant, and desired him to look in his 
 great-coat pocket, and he would find a 
 lemon. ' Tor,' he said, ' I thought 
 it likely you might have duck and 
 green peas for dinner, and therefore 
 thought it prudent, at this distance 
 from a town, to provide a lemon.' I 
 turned round, and exclaimed indig- 
 nantly, 'Bunch, bring in the lemon- 
 bag!' and Banch appeared with a 
 bag containing a dozen lemons. He 
 respected us wonderfully after 
 that." 
 
 Talking of absence, Smith related : 
 "The oddest instance of absence 
 of mind happened to me once in for- 
 getting my own name. I knocked at 
 a door in London ; asked, ' Is Mrs. 
 
 B at home?' 'Yes, sir; pray 
 
 what name shall I say ?' I looked in 
 the man's face astonished: — what 
 name ? what name ? ay, that is the 
 question ; what is my name ? I be- 
 lieve the man thought me mad ; but 
 it is literally true, that during the 
 space of two or three minutes I had 
 no more idea of who I was than if I 
 had never existed. I did not know 
 whetlier I was a Dissenter or a layman. 
 I felt as dull as Sternhold and Hop- 
 kins. At last, to my great relief, it 
 flashed across me that I was Sydney 
 Smitli." 
 
 ^ ^ TT vF * 
 
 Lord Dudley was one of the most 
 absent men I think I ever met in 
 society. One day he met me in the 
 street, and invited me to meet myself. 
 " Dine with me to-day ; dine with me, 
 and I will get Sydney Smith to meet 
 you." I admitted the temptation he 
 held out to me, but said I was en- 
 gaged to meet him elsewhere. An- 
 
 other time, on meeting me, he turned 
 back, put his arm through mine, 
 muttering, " I don't mind walking 
 with him a little way ; I'll walk with 
 him as far as the end of the street." 
 
 As we proceeded together, W 
 
 passed: "That is the villain," ex- 
 claimed he, " who helped me to aspa- 
 ragus, and gave me no toast." He 
 very nearly overset my gravity once 
 in the pulpit. He was sitting imme- 
 diately under me, apparently very 
 attentive, when suddenly he took up 
 his stick, as if he had been in tlie 
 House of Commons, and tapped on 
 the ground, in approbation of what 
 he had just heard. 
 
 Wlien Lord Jeffrey was having his 
 face cast, Sydney Smith, who was 
 present, on seeing the face completely 
 covered up, leaped, mock heroically, 
 exclaiming, " There's immortaUty ! 
 but God keep me from such a mode 
 of obtaining it." 
 
 Smith took up the cartoon of the 
 Beautiful Gate, and began reading the 
 fine speech of St. Peter to the beggar, 
 " Silver and gold I have none." " Ah ! 
 that was in the time of the paper 
 currency," said he. 
 
 " THE GKBAT SIU SUBNET." 
 
 One evening there came to supper 
 at Mr. Smith's, in Orchard-street, Shr 
 James Mackintosh, bringing with him 
 a Scotch cousin, an ensign in a High- 
 land regiment. On hearing the name 
 of his host, he turned round, and 
 nudging Sir James, whispered, "Is 
 that the great Sir Sudney ?" " Yes, 
 yes," said Sir James, much amused, 
 and giving Mr. Smith the hint, 
 he instantly assumed the military 
 character, performed the part of the 
 hero of Acre to perfection, fought all 
 his battles over again, and showed 
 how he had charged the Turks, to the 
 infinite delight of the young Scotch- 
 man, who was quite enchanted with 
 the kindness and condescension of 
 " the great Sir Sudney," as he called 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 97 
 
 Lim, and to tlie absolute torture of 
 the other gut-sts, wlio were bursting 
 with suppressed laughter at tbe scene 
 before them. Nothing would serve 
 the young Highlander but setting off 
 at twelve o'clock at night, to fetch 
 the piper of his regiment to pipe to 
 " the great Sir Sudney," who said he 
 liad never heard the bagpipes : upon 
 this, the party broke up, and dis- 
 persed instantly, for Sir James said 
 ills Scotch cousin would infallibly cut 
 Jiis throat if ho discovered his mis- 
 take. A few days afterwards, when 
 Sir James Mackintosh and his Scotch 
 cousin were walking in the streets, 
 tliey met Mr. Sydney Smith with his 
 wife on his arm. He introduced her, 
 upon which the Scotch cousin said in 
 a low voice to Sir James, and looking 
 at Mrs. Sydney, " 1 did na ken the 
 great Sir Sudney was married." 
 " Why, no," said Sir James, a little 
 embarrassed, " not ex-aot-ly, — mar- 
 ried, — only an Egyptian slave he 
 brought over with him; Patmia — you 
 know — ^you understand." Mrs. Smith 
 was long known in the little circle as 
 Tatima. 
 
 We quote this admirable anecdote 
 from Lady Holland's Memoir : hitherto, 
 we had only read it in outline. 
 
 "the north pole." 
 When Smith was at Edinburgh, a cer- 
 tain gentleman wastheparamount bore, 
 and liis favourite subject the North 
 Pole. No one escaped him, and Sydney, 
 as a protection, declared he should in- 
 vent a slip button. Jeffrey fled from 
 this bore whenever he could ; but one 
 day his tormentor met him in a narrow 
 lane, where escape was impossible, 
 and he forthwith began on the North 
 Pole. Jeffrey could not stand it — so 
 lie darted off, crying out, " D — n the 
 North Pole!" Mr. Sydney Smith 
 met the bore shortly after, very indig- 
 nant at Jeffrey's contempt of the 
 North Pole. "Oh, my dear fellow," 
 said Smith, " never mind ; no one 
 
 minds what Jeffrey says, you know; 
 he is a privileged person ; he respects 
 nothing, absolutely nothing. Why, 
 you will scarcely believe it, but it is 
 not more than a week ago that I 
 heard him speak disrespectfully of the 
 equator !" 
 
 JEST AND EARNEST. 
 
 Horner, one of Smith's Edinburgh 
 friends, loved trutii so much, that he 
 could not bear any jesting on impor- 
 tant subjects. One evening, Lord 
 Dudley and Smith pretended to jus- 
 tify the conduct of the Government 
 in stealing the Danish fleet. They 
 carried on the argument with some 
 'wickedness against their graver friend ; 
 he could not stand it, but bolted in- 
 dignantly out of the room. They 
 flung up the sash, and with a loud 
 peal of laughter, professed themselves 
 decided Scandinavians ; they offered 
 him not only the ships, but all the 
 shot, powder, cordage, and even the 
 biscuit, if he would come back ; but 
 nothing could turn him ; he went 
 home, and it took a fortnight of se- 
 rious behaviour before they were for- 
 given. 
 
 SYDNEY SMITH. BY EABL BTJSSELL. 
 
 One of the latest estimates of him 
 is that given by Earl Russell, in his 
 preface to Moore's Diary, wiio says of 
 Sydney Smith — his great delight was 
 to produce a succession of ludicrous 
 images : these followed each other 
 with a rapidity that scarcely left time 
 to laush ; he himself laughing: louder 
 and with more enjoyment than any 
 one. This electric contact of mirth 
 came and went with the occasion ; it 
 cannot be repeated or reproduced. 
 Anytliing would give occasion to it. 
 For instance, having seen in the news- 
 papers that Sir jEneas Mackintosh 
 was come to town, he drew such a 
 ludicrous caricature of Sir .^ilueas 
 and Lady Dido, for the amusement 
 of their namesake, that Sic James 
 
98 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 Mackintosh rolled on the floor in fits 
 of laughter, and Sydney Smith strid- 
 ing across him, exclaimed, " Ruat 
 Justitia!" His powers of fun were 
 at the same time united with the 
 strongest and most practical common 
 sense. So that while he laughed 
 away seriousness at one minute, he 
 destroyed in the next some rooted 
 prejudice which had hraved for a 
 thousand years the battle of reason 
 and the breeze of ridicule. The Let- 
 ters of Peter Plymley bear the great- 
 est likeness to his conversation ; the 
 description of Mr. Isaac Hawkins 
 Brown, dancing at the court of Naples 
 in a volcano coat with lava buttons, 
 and the comparison of Mr. Canning 
 to a large bluebottle fly with its para- 
 sites, most resemble the pictures he 
 raised up in social conversation. It 
 may be averred for certain, that in 
 this style he has never been equalled, 
 and I do not suppose he will ever be 
 surpassed. 
 
 " Sydney, (says Moore,) is in his 
 way inimitable; and as a conversa- 
 tional wit, beats all the men I have 
 ever met. Curran's fancy went much 
 higher, but also much lower. Sydney 
 in his gayest flights, though boister- 
 ous, is never vulgar." 
 
 WIT or DOTIGLAS JEREOLD. 
 
 This powerful yet genial man of 
 wit and humour, whose flashes of 
 merriment were "wont to set the 
 table in a roar," shone greatly in re- 
 partee, remarkable for briUiancy and 
 originality. His wit was not like 
 Sheridan's — elaborated and polished 
 beforehand — but unpremeditated ; for 
 Jerrold's best things consisted of an- 
 swers to remarks of others — retorts — 
 conversational wit, unborrowed from 
 others, and the mintage of his own 
 vivid brain. It was uniformly sharp, 
 but still never iU-natured ; intense 
 upon all kinds of humbug and 
 hollow pretension ; and he had a 
 withering contempt for money-grub- 
 
 bers — men who make a god of wealth, 
 yet apply it to no good purpose. 
 Above all things, Jerrold sympathised 
 with overworked service and ill-paid 
 labour ; he deliglited in the prosperity 
 of another — that rare test of a noble 
 mind : and he rejoiced in penning 
 those lines of fair encouragement 
 which have so much to do with the 
 advancement of meritorious yet timid 
 men in the great battle of life. 
 
 As a dramatist, a novelist, and a 
 writer of sketches of the society 
 around him, Jerrold was a finished 
 artist : his point and polish were truly 
 wonderful. Who can forget his Caudle 
 Lectures contributed to Punch, and 
 which drew to tliat journal many 
 thousands of readers who, but for 
 these papers, would, in all probability, 
 have never read Punch's pages ? 
 
 Mr. Blanchard Jerrold, in his ably- 
 written Life of his father, has grouped 
 some of the good things said by the 
 wit. He defined dogmatism as "pup- 
 pyism come to maturity ;" and a 
 flamingly uxorious epitaph put up by 
 a famous cook, on his wife's tomb, as 
 " Mock Turtle." A prosy old gentle- 
 man, meeting him as he was passing 
 at his usual quick pace along Kegent- 
 street, poised himself into an attitude, 
 and began : " Well, Jerrold, my dear 
 boy, what is going on ?" " I am," 
 said the wit, instantly shooting off. 
 
 At a dinner of artists, a barrister 
 present, having his health drunk in 
 connexion with the law, began an 
 embarrassed answer by saying he did 
 not see how the law could be con- 
 sidered as one of the arts, when 
 Jerrold jerked in the word black, and 
 threw the company into convulsions. 
 
 A bore remarking how charmed he 
 was with a certain opera, and that 
 there was one particular song which 
 always carried him quite away — 
 "Would that I could sing it !" ejacu- 
 lated the wit. 
 
 He wound up a fulsome review of 
 Wordsworth's Poems with: "He 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 99 
 
 reminds me of the Beadle of Par- 
 nassus, strutting about in a cocked 
 liat, or, to be more poetical, of a 
 modern Moses, who sits on -Pisgah 
 •with Ms back obstinately turned to 
 that promised land the future ; he is 
 only for those old tabbies, the Muses ! 
 His Pegasus is a broken-winded hack, 
 with a grammatical bridle, and a 
 monosyllabic bit between his teeth." 
 
 A. dinner is discussed. Douglas 
 Jerrold listens quietly, possibly tired 
 of dinners, and declining pressing in- 
 vitations to be present. In a few 
 minutes he will chime in, " If an 
 earthquake were to engulf England 
 to-morrow, the English would manage 
 to meet and dine somewhere among 
 the rubbish, just to celebrate the 
 event." 
 
 A friend is anxious to awaken Mr. 
 Jerrold's sympathies in behalf of a 
 mutual acquaintance who is in want 
 of a round sum of money. But this 
 mutual friend has already sent his 
 hat about among his literary brethren 
 on more than one occasion. Mr. 
 
 's hat is becoming an institution, 
 
 and friends were grieved at the in- 
 dehcacy of the proceeding. On the 
 above occasion, the bearer of the hat 
 was received witli evident dissatisfac- 
 tion. " Well," said Douglas Jerrold, 
 
 " how much does want this 
 
 time ?" " Why, just a four and two 
 noughts will, I think, put hm 
 straight," the bearer of the hat re- 
 plied. Jerrold — " Well, put me down 
 lor one of the noughts." 
 
 " The Chain of Events,'' playing at 
 the Lyceum Theatre, though unsuc- 
 cessful, is mentioned. "Humph!" 
 says Douglas Jerrold ; "I'm afraid 
 the manager will find it a door-chain, 
 strong enough to keep everybody out 
 of the house," — and so it proved. 
 
 Douglas Jerrold is seriously dis- 
 appointed with a certain book written 
 by one of his friends, and has ex- 
 
 pressed his disappointment. Friend — 
 
 " I have heard you said was the 
 
 worst book I ever wrote." Jerrold — 
 "Ko, I didn't. I said it was the 
 worst book anybody ever wrote." 
 
 A supper of sheep's-heads is pro- 
 posed, and presently served. One 
 gentleman present is particularly en- 
 thusiastic on the excellence of the 
 dish, and, as he throws down his 
 knife and fork, exclaims, '• Well, 
 sheep's-head for ever, say I!" Jer- 
 rold — "There's egotism !" 
 
 During a stormy discussion, a gen- 
 tleman rises to settle the matter in 
 dispute. Waving his hands majes- 
 tically over the excited disputants, he 
 begins : " Gentlemen, all I want is 
 common sense." "Exactly," says 
 Douglas Jerrold, "that is precisely 
 what you do want." 
 
 The talk lightly passes to the 
 writings of a certain Scot. A member 
 holds that the Scot's name should be 
 handed down to a grateful posterity. 
 Douglas Jerrold — "I quite agree 
 with you that he should have an itch 
 in the Temple of Fame." 
 
 Jerrold ordered a bottle of old port; 
 "not elder port," he said. 
 
 "Have you any railway shares?" 
 said Jerrold to a friend. " No," was 
 the reply. " When a river of gold is 
 running by your door," replied Jer- 
 rold, " why not put out your hat, and 
 take a dip ?" 
 
 Walking to his club with a friend 
 from the theatre, some intoxicated 
 young gentleman reeled up to the 
 dramatist and said, " Can you tell me 
 the way to the Judge and Jury?" 
 " Keep on as you are, young gentle- 
 man," was the reply; "you're sure 
 to overtake them." 
 
 Asking about the talent of a young 
 painter, his companion declared that 
 the youth was mediocre. "Oh!" 
 was the reply; "the very worst ochre 
 an artist can set to work witJi." 
 
 h2 
 
100 
 
 C'OOD THIKGS. 
 
 Lawyers, Doctors, Politicians, Players, 
 Soldiers, and Men of Letters. 
 
 GREAT LAWrr.KS. 
 
 Lord Somers's father was an attor- 
 ney at Woreester ; Lordliardwicke's, 
 an attorney at Dover; Lord King's, 
 a grocer at Exeter; Lord Gifford's 
 (hy an odd coincidence), a grocer in 
 tlie same city; Lord Tliuiiow's, a 
 poor country clergyman; Lord Keu- 
 von's, a gentleman of small estate in 
 Wales ; Dunning's, an attorney at 
 Asliburton ; Sir Vicary Gibbs's, a sur- 
 geon and apothecary at Exeter; Sir 
 Samuel Romilly's, a jeweller, tbougli 
 of a good refugee family ; Sir Samuel 
 Shepherd's (as we learn from a me- 
 moir by his son), a goldsmith ; Lord 
 Tenterden's, a barber at Canterbury, 
 described as " a little, erect, primitive- 
 looking man, with a large club pig- 
 tail, going about with the instruments 
 of his business under one arm, and 
 attended by his son Charles (the 
 future Chief Justice), a youth as 
 decent, grave, and primitive-looking 
 as himself ;" Lord Mansfield and 
 Lord Erskine were men of family ; 
 but all Lord Mansfield got by his 
 noble connexions were a few briefs in 
 Scotch appeal cases ; and Erskine, 
 just about the time when he was called 
 to the bar, was heard emphatically 
 thanking God, that, out of his own 
 family, he did not know a lord. It 
 would have been more to the purpose 
 to thank God that he did know an 
 attorney: but he judged riglitly in 
 supposing that his noble blood would 
 be of no avail. 
 
 Cambridge has always been the 
 favourite University for embryo law- 
 yers, from a notion that the mathe- 
 matics are better adapted than classics 
 
 to prepare the mind for forensic rea- 
 soning ; and on running over the list 
 of wranglers and medallists we cease 
 to wonder that this notion has gained 
 ground. On that list we find among 
 many other less known names, those 
 of Law (the first Lord EUenborough), 
 Copley, Tindal, Littledale, Shadwell, 
 Bickersteth, Pollock, Parke, Alder- 
 son, Maule, &o. On the other hand, 
 an equal or greater number of eminent 
 judges and advocates never received 
 an Oxford or Cambridge education, 
 or made no effort at distinction there. 
 Kenyon, Thurlow, Dunning, Erskine, 
 Scarlett, Gitford, Shepherd, Romilly, 
 with almost all the undisputed leaders 
 of the profession in England, belong 
 to one or the other of these two cate- 
 gories. It is, therefore, quite impos- 
 sible to deduce any general rule from 
 the examples ; and those who lay 
 much stress on college honours as an 
 earnest of future eminence, as well as 
 those who make light of them as an 
 indication, are equally at fault. 
 
 It ia a curious coincidence, that the 
 two greatest Chancery lawyers of 
 their day should both have been forced 
 into the profession by incidental ck- 
 cumstances. Romilly says, that what 
 principally influenced his decision 
 was, the being thus enabled to leave 
 his small fortune in his father's hands, 
 instead of buying a sworn clerk's seat 
 with it. "At a later period of my 
 life, after a success at the bar which 
 my wildest and most sanguine dreams 
 had never painted to me — when I was 
 gaining an income of 8000Z. or 9000/. 
 a-year — ^I have often reflected how all 
 that prosperity Lad arisen out of the 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 101 
 
 pecuniary difficulties and confined 
 circumstances of my father." 
 
 Mr. Wilberforce describes Romilly 
 as always seeming an idle man, though 
 he had such an immensfi quantity of 
 business. If you had not known wlio 
 and what he was, you would have 
 said, " he is a remarkably gentleman- 
 like, pleasant man ; I suppose, poor 
 fellow, he has no business !" for he 
 would stand at the bar of the House 
 of Commons, and chat with yon, and 
 talk on the last novel, with which he 
 was as well acquainted as if he had 
 nothing else to think about. 
 
 Lor3 Tenterden's early destination 
 was changed by a disappointment. 
 When he and Mr. Justice Richards 
 were going the Home Circuit, they 
 visited the catliedral at Canterbury 
 together. Richards commended the 
 voice of a singing man in the choir. 
 "Ah," said Lord Tenterden, "that is 
 the only man I ever envied ! When 
 at school in this town, we were can- 
 didates for a chorister's place, and he 
 obtained it." 
 
 It is now well known that the Dnke 
 of Wellington, when a subaltern, was 
 anxious to retire from the army, aud 
 actually applied to Lord Camden (then 
 Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland) for a 
 commissionersliip of customs ! It is 
 not always true, then, that men 
 destined to play conspicuous parts in 
 the world have a consciousness of 
 their coming greatness, or patience to 
 " bide their time." Lord Eldon cer- 
 tainly had none of those vague pre- 
 sentiments or proud aspirings which 
 made Nelson, when a captain, exclaim 
 that, some time or other, he would 
 have a gazette to himself. Eldon 
 had little, if any, imagination; tlie 
 poetry of his life began and ended 
 with ■" Bessy." 
 
 LOUD KENIOn's PAESIMOSY. 
 
 Lord Kenyon studied economy even 
 in the hatclmient put up over his 
 house in Lincoln's-inn-fields after his 
 
 death. The motto was certainly found 
 to be " Mors junua vita" — this being 
 at first supposed to be the mistake of 
 the painter. But when it was men- 
 tioned to Lord BUenborough, "Mis- 
 take !" exclaimed his lordship, " it is 
 no mistake. The considerate testator 
 left particular directions in his will 
 that the estate should not be burdened 
 with the expense of a diphthoni/ !' 
 Accordingly, he had the glory of dying 
 very rich. After the loss of his eldest 
 son, he said with great emotion to 
 Mr. Justice Allan Park, who repeated 
 the words soon after to the narrator — 
 "How delighted George would be to 
 take his poor brother from the earth, 
 and restore him to life, although he 
 receives 250,000^. by his decease!" 
 Lord Kenyon occupied a large, gloomy 
 house in Lincoln's-inn-fields : this is 
 traditional description of the mansion 
 in his time — " All the year through it 
 is Lent in the kitchen and Passion- 
 week in the parlour." Some one 
 having mentioned that, although the 
 fire was very dull in the kitchen-grate, 
 the spits were always bright, — "It is 
 quite irrelevant," said Jekyll, "to 
 talk about the syits, for nothing ' turns' 
 upon them" * * He was curiously 
 economical about the adornment of 
 his head. It was observed for a 
 number of years before he died, that 
 he had two hats and two wigs — of the 
 hats and the wigs one was dreadfully 
 old and shabby, the other compara- 
 tively spruce. He always carried into 
 court with him the very old hat and 
 the comparatively spruce wig, or the 
 very old wig and the comparatively 
 spruce hat. On the days of the very 
 old hat and the comparatively spruce 
 wig, he shoved his hat under the 
 bench, and displayed his wig ; but on 
 the days of the very old wig and the 
 comparatively spi'uce hat, he always 
 continued covered. He might often 
 be seen sitting with his hat over his 
 wig, but the Rule of Court by which lie 
 was governed on this point is doubtful. 
 
102 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 THE GREAT SEAL. 
 
 On March 24, 1784, the day before 
 the dissolution of Parliament, the 
 Great Seal of England was stolen 
 from the house of Lord Chancellor 
 Thurlow, No. 45, Great Ormond-street, 
 Queen-square. The thieves got in by 
 scaling the garden wall and forcing 
 two iron bars out of the kitchen win- 
 dow. They then made their way to 
 the Chancellor's study, broke open 
 tlie drawers of his Lordship's writing- 
 table, ransacked the room, and carried 
 away the Great Seal, rejecting the 
 pouch as of little value, the mace as 
 too unwieldy. The thieves were dis- 
 covered, but tbe Seal, being of silver, 
 had got into circulation through the 
 melting-pot, and patents and impor- 
 tant documents were delayed until a 
 new one was made ; and we have it 
 on good authority that for the next 
 eight years of his chancellorship the 
 noble lord always slept with the Great 
 Seal under his pillow. 
 
 Lord Eldon tells us in his diary, 
 that when he went to the palace for 
 the purpose of receiving the Seal, the 
 King (George IIL) was seated on a 
 sofa, with his eoat partially buttoned, 
 and the Seal pushed in on the left 
 side, between his coat and the waist- 
 coat. He drew it forth on the ap- 
 pearance of the Chancellor, and handed 
 it to him with these words — " Here I 
 give it you from my heart." His 
 lordship never went to bed a single 
 night without having the Seal in his 
 chamber. One night, in the year 
 1812, he was awakened by his house 
 being on fire. His first thoughts 
 were for the safety of the Seal: 
 snatching it from the place where it 
 lay, he ruslied down stairs and buried 
 it in the flower-garden behind the 
 house. Upon returning to his dwell- 
 ing, he says, in his diary, that he was 
 ' s enchanted with the pretty sight 
 of the maids who had tui-ned out of 
 their beds, and were handing in 
 buckets of water to the fire-engine, 
 
 all in their shifts, and so alarmed for 
 the safety of Lady Eldon," that in 
 the morning he could not recollect in 
 the least in which flower-bed he had 
 buried the Seal. " You never saw," 
 he adds in his diary, "anything so 
 ridiculous as seeing the whole family 
 down the walks dibbling with bits of 
 stick until we found it." 
 
 A new Seal of the United Kingdom 
 is made on the accession of every 
 sovereign, and the old one is defaced. 
 The latter operation, technically termed 
 "damasking," is performed by the 
 sovereign in council — the old Seal 
 being, in the eye of the law, rendered 
 nseless after the Sovereign has hit it 
 a gentle blow with a small hammer. 
 The damasked Seal is the perquisite 
 of the Lord Chancellor — a perquisite 
 of more value at the present day than 
 formerly, for up to the year 1815 the 
 Seal was made of copper, whereas 
 now it is made of silver. A very 
 amusing incident occurred at the da- 
 masking by William IV. of the Seal 
 used by the preceding King. Lord 
 Lyndhurst held the Seal at the demise 
 of George IV., but Lord Brougham 
 was its keeper when the Seal of 
 William was completed ; hence there 
 were two claimants for the damasked 
 Seal, one arguing that it was really a 
 Seal of the , preceding reign, and as 
 such vested in him at the death of the 
 sovereign; the other, that it was in 
 full force till it was actually defaced. 
 The King himself was eventually ap- 
 pealed to, to settle the dispute, and — 
 as is the case in most matters— there 
 being much to be said on both sides, 
 he decided that the two lords should 
 each have half; and very kindly or- 
 dered his goldsmith to insert the two 
 halves in two superb silver salvers, 
 which he presented to his two Minis- 
 ters, recommending them to "toss 
 up" which should have the obverse, 
 and which the reverse of the Seal. 
 
 When Lord Brougham became 
 Chancellor, he is said to have carried 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 103 
 
 the Great Seal about with him, when 
 he travelled during the vacations. 
 
 The resigning of the Great Seal is 
 a formal ceremony — a sort of unkind- 
 ship. When Lord Chancellor Lynd- 
 hurst went to Buckingham Palace, to 
 give up the Seal, he was received with 
 proper state: but having given the 
 Seal into the hands of the Sovereign, 
 he descended the staircase alone, and 
 was met by an ofB.eial, who coolly ia- 
 quired, " Lord Lyndhurst, can I do 
 anything for you ?" 
 
 LOKB STOWELL's LOVE Or SIGHT- 
 SEEING. 
 
 Lord Stowell loved manly sports, 
 and was not above being pleased with 
 the most rude and simple diversions. 
 He gloried in Punch and Judy — their 
 fun stirred his mirth without, as in 
 Goldsmith's case, provoking spleen. 
 He made a boast on one occasion that 
 there was not a puppet-show in Lon- 
 don he had hot visited, and when 
 turned fourscore, was caught watch- 
 ing one at a distance with children 
 of less grovith in high glee. He has 
 been known to make a party with 
 Windham to visit Gribb's, and to have 
 attended the " fives court" as a fa^ 
 vourite resort. " There were curious 
 characters," he observed, " to be seen 
 at these places." He was the most 
 indefatigable sight-seer in London. 
 Whatever show could be visited for a 
 shilling, or less, was visited by Lord 
 Stowell. In the western end of Lon- 
 don there was a room generally let 
 for exhibitions. At the entrance, as 
 it is said. Lord Stowell presented 
 himself, eager to see " the green 
 monster serpent," which had lately 
 issued cards of invitation to the pub- 
 He. As he was pulling out his purse 
 to pay for his admission, a sharp but 
 honest north-country lad, whose busi- 
 ness it was to take the money, recog- 
 nised him as an old customer, and 
 knowing his name, thus addressed 
 him : " We can't take your shilliug. 
 
 my lord ; 'tis the old serpent which 
 you have seen twice before in other 
 colours ; but ye shall go in and see 
 her." He entered, saved his money, 
 and enjoyed his third visit to the 
 painted beauty. This love of " seeing 
 sights" was, on anotiier occasion, pro- 
 ductive of a whimsical incident. Some 
 30 years ago, an animal, called a 
 "bonassus," was exhibited in the 
 Strand. (See page 28 of the present 
 volume.) On Lord Stowell's paying 
 it a second visit, the keeper very 
 courteously told his lordship that he 
 was welcome to come, gratuitously, as 
 often as he jileased. Within a day or 
 two after this, however, there ap- 
 peared, under the bills of the exhibi- 
 tion, in conspicuous characters, " Un- 
 der the patronage of the Right Hon. 
 Lord Stowell;" an announcement of 
 which the noble and learned lord's 
 friends availed themselves, by passing 
 many a joke upon him ; all which he 
 took with the greatest good humour. 
 — Towmend's Lives of Twelve Judges. 
 It was Lord Stowell who said, 
 " The dining system puts people in a 
 good humour, and makes them agree 
 when they otherwise might not ; a 
 dirmer lubricates business." 
 
 HOW JEK.YI-L WAS MADE MASIEB. IN 
 CHANCERY. 
 
 When Lord Chancellor Eldon lived 
 at No. 6, Bedford-square, one day the 
 Prince Regent came thither alone, 
 and upon the servant opening the 
 door, observed that as the Chancellor 
 had the gout, he knew he must be at 
 home, and tiierefore desired that he 
 might be shown up to the room where 
 Lord Eldon was. The servant said 
 is master was too ill to be seen, 
 and that he had positive orders to 
 show in no one. The Prince then 
 asked to be shown the staircase, which 
 he immediately ascended, and pointed 
 first to one door, and then to another, 
 asking, " Is that your master's room?" 
 The servant answered "No," unt-l he 
 
104 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 came to tlie rif^lit one, upon which he 
 opened the door, seated himself by 
 the Chancellor's bedside, and asked 
 him to appoint his friend Jekyll, the 
 great wit, to the vacant, ofEce of Mas- 
 ter in Chancery. Tlie Chancellor 
 refused — there could not be a more 
 unfit appointment. The Prince per- 
 ceiving the humour of the Chancellor, 
 and that he was firm in his determi- 
 nation not to appoint him, threw, him- 
 self back in the chair and exclaimed, 
 "How I do pity Lady Eldon!" 
 " Good God !" said tlie Chancellor, 
 "what is the matter?" "Oh, no- 
 thing," answered the Prince, " ex- 
 cept that she will never see you again, 
 for here I remain until you promise 
 to make Jekyll a Master in Chancery." 
 Jekyll, of course, obtained the ap- 
 pointment. 
 
 NOKBUEIANA. 
 
 Cobbett was called the "bone- 
 grubber," in consequence of the re- 
 spect which, with ostentatious bad 
 taste, he paid to the memory of 
 Thomas Paine, whose remains he 
 brought to England from America. 
 Lord Norbury, on being asked what 
 Cobbett meant by importing the 
 bones, is said to have answered, that he 
 supposed he " wanted to make a broil." 
 
 A gentleman, who practised wit and 
 professed law, thought that he could 
 overcome the punster on the Bench. 
 So on one day, when Lord Norbury 
 was charging a jury, the address was 
 interrupted by the braying of a 
 donkey. " What noise is tiiat ?" 
 cried Lord Norbury. — " 'Tis only the 
 echo of the Court, my lord," answered 
 Counsellor Readytongue. Nothing 
 disconcerted, the Judge resumed his 
 address ; but soon the barrister had to 
 interpose with technical objections. 
 While puttipg them, again the donkey 
 brayed. "One at a time, if you 
 please," said the retaliating joker. 
 
 Lord Norbury 's court was re- 
 markablefor anything but the decorum 
 
 with wliich its business was carried 
 on. His propensity to joke, in season 
 and out of season, operated a.-i a ge- 
 neral license to all : and wliether it 
 was a civil question or a point of life 
 and death in discussion, repeated 
 shouts of laughter re-echoed through 
 the halls, as puns, quibbles, and quo- 
 tations were bandied about from tlie 
 bench to the bar, from the bar to tlie 
 bench, and from both to the jury and 
 the witnesses ; till mirth rose to up- 
 roar, and fun degenerated into down- 
 right insubordination. Of this his 
 lordship himself has borne testimony. 
 On pressing a reluctant witness one 
 day to get at his profession, and being 
 at length told that he kept a racket- 
 court : " And a very good trade too," 
 replied the judge, "so do I, so do I," 
 while he puffed, and glanced at the 
 " company." 
 
 The registrar of one of the Irish 
 criminal courts complained to his 
 lordship tliat the witnesses were in 
 the habit of stealing the Testament 
 after they had been sworn upon it. 
 " Never mind," said his lordship ; "if 
 the rascals read the book, it will do 
 them more good than the petty lar- 
 ceny may do them mischief. How- 
 ever, if they are not afraid of the 
 cord, hang your book in chains, and 
 that, perhaps, by reminding the fel- 
 lows of the fate of their fathers and 
 grandfathers, may make them behave 
 themselves." This strange expedient 
 was adopted, and the Testament re- 
 mained afterwards secure. 
 
 MAULIAKA. 
 
 The late Sir William Maule, per- 
 haps the ablest judge of his time, was 
 distinguished by his mathematical 
 powers ; it is the opinion of Mr. 
 Babbage that if Sir William had given 
 himself up to that science, he might 
 have been the fust mathematician in 
 Europe ; and there can be no doubt 
 that his judgments fully corroborate 
 this estimate. They unite force and 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 105 
 
 subtlety in a manner characteristically 
 English. His mind was like a Na- 
 smyth's hammer, which can forge an 
 anchor or crack a nut with equal 
 accuracy and equal facility. 
 
 There was no one who could split 
 straws with such miraculous nicety, 
 of which an instance is related in the 
 Law Review, connected with the 
 scandal (now liajipily done away with) 
 of special demurrers. A mau was 
 described in a plea as " I. Jones," and 
 the pleader (probably not knowing his 
 name) referred in another part of the 
 plea to " 1" as an initial. The plain- 
 tiff demurred {i.e. said that the plea 
 was bad,) because "I" was not a 
 name. Sir W. Maule said that there 
 was .no reason why a man might not 
 be christened " 1" as well as Isaac, 
 inasmuch as either could be pro- 
 nounced alone. The counsel for the 
 plaintiff then objected that the plea 
 admitted that " I" was not a name by 
 describing it as an initial." "Yes," 
 retorted the judge, "but it does not 
 aver that it is not a, final as well as an 
 initial letter. This is very like Lord 
 Brougham's celebrated decision that a 
 will in which property was left to 
 " the second, third, fourth, and other 
 sons severally and in succession, ac- 
 cording to tlieir priority of birth" (the 
 limitation to the first son having been 
 omitted by a slip of the copying-clerk) 
 gave the property to the ewer son 
 because, though neither second, third, 
 nor fourth, he was another son." 
 
 Sir William Maule's manner was as 
 characteristic of his understanding as 
 his matter. A careless observer 
 wonld have thought him confused, for 
 he hardly ever completed a. sentence ; 
 but, in fact, he thought much more 
 quickly than he spoke, and saw the 
 end of a second sentence before he 
 had concluded the first. He had also 
 a great contempt for display. When 
 at the bar, he was counsel in a case 
 of great importance which was being 
 argued before the judges, and being 
 
 asked whether he wished to add any- 
 thing to his argument, he considered 
 for a moment, and then answered, 
 in reference to a volume which he had 
 handed up to the Bench, "My lord, 
 please give me my book," after which 
 he sat down without another word. 
 
 Judge Maule's humour was often, 
 no doubt, coarse and dirty, but it was 
 always both genuine and infinitely 
 amusing. An admirable specimen is 
 quoted from the Times, and we are 
 glad to have an opportunity of giving 
 the true version of one of the wittiess 
 speeches ever made, and which has 
 strangely enough been robbed of its 
 best point. A man being convicted of 
 bigamy, the following conversation 
 took place : — 
 
 Clerk of Assize. — What have you to 
 say why judgment should not bo 
 passed upon you according to law ? 
 
 Prisoner. — Well, my lord, my wife 
 took up with a hawker, and run away 
 five years ago, and I've never seen her 
 since, and I married this other woman 
 last winter. 
 
 Mr. Justice Maule. — I will tell you 
 what you ought to have done ; and if 
 you say you did not know, I must tell 
 you the law conclusively presumes 
 that you did. You ought to have in- 
 structed your attorney to bring an 
 action against the hawker for criminal 
 conversation with your wife. That 
 would have cost you about 100/. 
 When you liad recovered substantial 
 damages against the hawker, you 
 would have instructed your proctor to 
 sue in the ecclesiastical courts for a 
 divorce a mensd atque thoro. That 
 would have cost you 200/. or 300/. 
 more. When you had obtained a di- 
 vorce a mensd atque thoro, you would 
 have had to appear by counsel before 
 the House of Lords for a divorce a 
 vinculo matrimonii. The bill might 
 have been opposed in all its stages in 
 both Houses of Parliament ; and 
 altogether you would have had to 
 speud about 1000/. or 1200/. You. 
 
106 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 will probably tell me that you never 
 had a thousand farthings of your own 
 in the world ; but, prisoner, that 
 makes no difference. Sitting here as 
 a British judge, it is my duty to tell 
 you that this is not a country in which 
 there is one law for the rich and an- 
 other for the poor. 
 
 It IS an almost incredible proof of 
 human stupidity, that the story is 
 usually told without the words which 
 we have italicized. 
 
 A drunken witness leaving the box 
 blurts out, " My lord, I never cared 
 for anything but women and horse- 
 flesh!" Mr. Justice Maule — "Oh, 
 you never cared for anything but 
 women and horseflesh ? Then I ad- 
 vise you to go home and make your 
 will, or, if you have made it, put a 
 codicil to it, and direct your exe- 
 cutors, as soon as you're dead, to have 
 you flayed, and to have your skin 
 made mto side saddles, and then, 
 whatever happens, you will have the 
 satisfaction of reflecting that, after 
 death, some part of you will be con- 
 stantly in contact with what, in life, 
 were the dearest objects of your 
 affection." A man being tried for 
 sheep-stealing, evidence was given 
 that he had been seen washing tripe. 
 The counsel for the Crown, in exa- 
 mining the witness, observes with ill- 
 timed delicacy, "He was washing 
 bowels ?" " Yes, sir." — " The bowels 
 of an animal, I suppose ?" " Yes, 
 sir." The counsel sits down. Justice 
 Maule: "Pray, was it a wren's 
 stomach ?" A barrister opened a case 
 somewhat confusedly. The judge in- 
 terrupts him. "I wish, Mr. , 
 
 you would put your facts in some 
 order ; chronological order is the best, 
 but I am not particular. Any order 
 you like — alphabetical order." The 
 most characteristic, however, of all 
 such stories are those which refer to 
 the irony with which he would occa- 
 sionally tax the powers of country 
 juries : — 
 
 Gentlemen, — The learned counsel ia per- 
 fectly right in Ms law, there is snme evi- 
 dence upon that point ; but he's a lawyer, 
 and you're not, and you don't know what 
 he means by some evidence, so I'll tell 
 you. Suppose there was an action on a 
 bill of exchange, and sii people swore that 
 they saw the defendant accept it, and six 
 others swore they heard him say he should 
 have to pay it, and six others knew him 
 intimately, and swore to his handwriting; 
 and suppose on the other side they called 
 a poor old man who had been at school 
 with the defendant forty years before and 
 had not seen him since, and he said he rather 
 thought the accepcance was not his 
 writing, why there'd be some evidence 
 
 that it was not, and that's what Mr. 
 
 means in this case. 
 
 A very stupid jury were called upon 
 to convict a man on the plainest evi- 
 dence. A previous conviction was 
 proved against him, by the production 
 of the usual certificate and by the 
 evidence of the policeman who had 
 had him in charge. The judge 
 summed up at great length. He told 
 the jury that the certificate was not 
 conclusive ; that the question was 
 entirely for them ; that policemen 
 sometimes told lies, and much else of 
 the same kind, concluding as follows : 
 "And, gentlemen, never forget that 
 you are a British jury, and, if you 
 have any reasonable doubt on your 
 minds, God forbid that the prisoner 
 should not have the benefit of it." 
 The jury retired, and were twenty 
 minutes or more before they found 
 out that the judge had been laughing 
 at them, and made up their minifi 
 that the identity was proved.— 
 Abridged from a capital paper, in the 
 Saturday Review. 
 
 bkotjgham: akd lyndhtthst. 
 Brougham, speaking of the salary 
 attached to a rumoured appointment 
 to a new judgeship, said it was all 
 moonshine. Lyndhurst, in bis dry 
 and waggish way, remarked, " May 
 be so, my Lord Harry ; but I have a 
 strong notion that, moonshine though 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 107 
 
 it be, you would like to see the first 
 quarter of it." 
 
 LOKD BEOTJRHAM's CHANCELLORSHIP 
 PEEDICTED. 
 
 It may take the reader by surprise 
 to be told that, astounding as the 
 career of Lord Brougham lias been, 
 the rise of this distinguished man to 
 the highest honour of the realm 
 appears to have been predicted thirty 
 years before its attainment. At the 
 Social Scieaoe dinner at the Crystal 
 Palace, Sydenham, on June 14th, 
 1862, at which Lord Brougham pre- 
 sided, Mr. J. W. Napier, ex-Chan- 
 cellor of Ireland, related that he 
 remembered, some years previously, 
 meeting an old and respected lady m 
 the north of England, who was present 
 at a party when the first writers in 
 the Edinburgh Review, including 
 Heury Brougham, dined together at 
 Edinburgh, after the publication of 
 the Second Number of the Review 
 (in 1802). On that occasion, the 
 lady's husband, Mr. Eletcher, re- 
 marked that the writer of a certain 
 paper in the Review, of which he 
 knew not the author, was fit to be 
 anything. Mr. Brougham hearing 
 this, observed, " What ! do you think 
 he is fit to be Lord Chancellor?" 
 The reply was, " Yes ; and I tell you 
 more : lie will be Lord Chancellor ;" 
 and the old lady had the happiness to 
 live thirty years after this, and to see 
 her friend Lord Chancellor of Eng- 
 land. Lord Brougham well remem- 
 bered old Mrs. Fletcher, and corro- 
 borated the accuracy of Mr. Napier's 
 anecdote. Mr. Napier then proposed, 
 in an affectionate manner, the health 
 of Lord Brougliam, whose answer 
 was, as he said, but a repetition of 
 words he had spoken thirty years ago 
 elsewhere. But on the present occa- 
 sion they were perhaps even more 
 appropriate, and in themselves singu- 
 larly beautiful : " When I cease from 
 my labours, the cause of freedom. 
 
 peace, and progress will lose a friend, 
 and no man living will lose an enemy." 
 The noble lord was much affected, 
 and it is needless to tell of the 
 applause which followed the senti- 
 ment. 
 
 MEDICAL FEES, 
 
 The late Lord Dudley and Ward 
 was in the habit of presenting his 
 physician with whatever happened to 
 be in his pocket at the time, — whether 
 it was a bunch of keys or a purse of 
 gold. 
 
 Major Snodgrass, who died leaving 
 an enormous property, used never to 
 offer his surgeon less than fifty guineas 
 a visit; and fifty guineas, if any 
 operation, however trifling, was per- 
 formed. 
 
 Dr. Yates, of Brighton, was pre- 
 sented by a patient with a carriage 
 and horses, and 500/. a-year for life, 
 to keep them. 
 
 Baron Heurteloup received (we will 
 not say it was the spontaneous offer- 
 ing of his patient) 400 guineas for the 
 operation of lithotomy; and SirAstley 
 Cooper the enormous sum of 1000 
 guineas for a similar operation, which 
 his patient, Mr. Hyatt, chucked to 
 him in his nightcap, in the excess of 
 his gratitude. 
 
 Still, it must not be imagined, (says 
 a writer in the Quarterly Review, 
 1840,) that such instances are fre- 
 quent, or that many medical men are 
 in the receipt of large incomes. It is 
 probable that there are not six medi- 
 cal men in London, at this moment 
 (1840), who are actually in the receipt 
 of 5000/. a-year; Whereas, at the bar 
 there are at least treble that number. 
 There is a fashion in medicine, as in 
 other, things, and consequently, an 
 engrossing monopoly. Dr. Chambers 
 and Sir Benjamin Brodie, it is not 
 unlikely, realized 12,000/. a-year from 
 their profession. Sir Everard Home, 
 during the time of the income tax, 
 returned, it is saidj 21,000/, as his 
 
lOS 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 professional income ; but, if so, it 
 was, probably, an ad captandum mode 
 of exaggerating the magnitude of his 
 business, inasmuch as lie succeeded 
 to his uncle, Mr. Hunter, who was a 
 much more celebrated man, but who 
 did not make half that income. Drs. 
 Fothorgill and Lettsom, Quakers by 
 persuasion, and enjoying an extensive 
 Gitycelebrity,are said to have realized, 
 in some years, the former 8000/. and 
 the latter 12,000/. 
 
 The largest income, however, we 
 believe, which was ever made in the 
 profession, was made by Sir Astley 
 Cooper, during his residence in the 
 Cily; it amounted, during one year, 
 to 21,000/. ; we have heard it rated 
 still higher. The nature of City 
 practice, joined to the extraordinary 
 celebrity which this gentleman en- 
 joyed, during one period of his life, 
 renders this account extremely pro- 
 bable. The merchants of the City 
 are accustomed to come at once to 
 the point, and to hand out their fees 
 liberally; they lie comparatively close 
 together ; time is not wasted in con- 
 sultations ; nor are those observations 
 required, which are generally expected 
 towards great people and their rela- 
 tives ; consequently, a great deal of 
 profitable business may speedily be 
 dispatched. At the west end of the 
 town, it requires good management 
 to see three patients in the hour. Sir 
 Henry Halford, it is said, could ac- 
 complish four. But, taking either of 
 these data, the amount is easily 
 told. 
 
 ECCEKTMC SIB WILLIAM BROWNE. 
 
 Of all the eccentric physicians of 
 the last century, perhaps Sir William 
 Browne was the greatest oddity. He 
 was at Peterhouse College when 
 George II. presented Bishop iMoore's 
 library (for which the King gave 
 6000/.) to the University of Cam- 
 bridge. At the same moment, a 
 xogimeut of cavalry had been dis- 
 
 patched to the sister University, to 
 keep the Oxford Jacobites in order. 
 Browne commemorated the discern- 
 ment displayed in his Majesty's care 
 for his " two seats of learning," in 
 the well-known epigram : — 
 
 The King to Oxford sent a troop of horse. 
 For Tories own no argument but force ; 
 "VYith equal skill, to Cambridge books he 
 
 sent. 
 For Whigs admit no force but arguments. 
 
 Browne grew rich by thirty years' 
 practice, was knighted, and elected 
 President of the College of Physicians, 
 when he fought the battle of the 
 Licentiates, and got into a pamphlet- 
 eering squabble, which circumstances 
 brought liim under the lash of Foote, 
 in his " Devil on Two Sticks." Foote 
 gave an inimitable representation of 
 the E.-culapian knight on the stage, 
 with the precise counterpart of his 
 wig and coat and odd figure, and glass 
 stiffly applied to his eye. Sir William 
 sent Foote a card, complimenting him 
 upon having so happily represented 
 him, but. as hehadforr/oitenthe muff, he 
 sent him his own. Whilst Browne tilled 
 the office of President, the Licentiates 
 in a body forced their way into the 
 College and even into the room wlicre 
 the Comitia was being held. Sir AVil- 
 liam maintained his composure, and at 
 once dissolved the Comitia. A second 
 attempt was made the following year 
 (1767) to break into the College, but 
 the precaution had been taken of 
 closing the iron gates which guarded 
 the entiauce from "Warwick -lane. 
 The assembled Licentiates offered a 
 smith ten guineas and an indemnifi- 
 cation of three hundred pounds to 
 force' the gates, but he refused. 
 
 Bishop Warburton describes Sir 
 IViUiam Browne as a little well-fed 
 gentleman, with a large muff iu one 
 hand, and a small Horace in the other, 
 and a spying-glass dangling from a 
 black ribbon at his button. In aeon- : 
 te.'-t for some small parochial office, ; 
 he battled so warmly as to open ta- 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 109 
 
 vcms for men, and coffee-house break- 
 fusts for women, — wondering, as he 
 himself expressed it, that a man bred 
 af two universities should be so little 
 regarded. A parishioner replied that 
 he had " a calf that sucked two cows, 
 and a prodigious great one it was." 
 At the age of 80, on St. Luke's day, 
 1771, Browne went to Batson's coffee- 
 house, in his laced coat and band, and 
 fringed white aloves, to show liimself 
 to the Lord Mayor. A gentleman 
 jjresent observed, that he looked very 
 well ; he replied, he had " neither wile 
 nor debts." He died at the age of 
 82, and is buried at Hillingdon, in 
 Norfolk, where a monument to his 
 memory bears a long and pompous 
 inscription, admitted in his will to 
 have been written by himself In the 
 will, which he also drew up, lie lashes 
 orthodox and heterodox alike, aud the 
 Greek and Latin with whi'ch it was 
 interlarded puzzled the people at Doc- 
 tors' Commons. On his coffin, when 
 in the grave, he desired might be de- 
 posited, " in its leather case or coffin," 
 his pocket Elzevir Horace, " comes 
 viiB vitseque dulcis et utilis," he adds, 
 "worn out with and by me." He 
 disposed of his property judiciously 
 and equitably, and left certain prize 
 medals to be given yearly to Cam- 
 bridge undergraduates. 
 
 EECOLLECTIONS OF CHAKLES JAMES 
 EOX. 
 
 George III. invariably evinced a 
 strong aversion to JFox, the secret of 
 which it is easy to understand. His 
 son, the Prince of Wales, threw him- 
 self into the arms of Fox, and this in 
 the most undisguised manner. Foi. 
 lodged in St. James's-street, and as 
 soon as he rose, which was very late, 
 had a levee of his followers, and of 
 1 he members of the gaming club, at 
 Brookes's, all his disciples. His 
 bristly black person, aud shagged 
 breast quite open, and rarely purifeed 
 by any ablutions, was wrapped in a 
 
 foul linen night-gown, and his bushy 
 hair dishevelled. In these cynic weeds, 
 and with epicurean good humour, did 
 he dictate his politics — and in this 
 school did the heir of the crown attend 
 his lessons and imbibe them. 
 
 Fox's love of play was , desperate. 
 A few evenings before he moved the 
 repeal of the Marriage Act, in Febru- 
 ary, 1772, he had buen at Brompton 
 on two errands : one to consult Justice 
 Fielding on the penal laws ; the otlier, 
 to borrow ten thousand pounds, which 
 he brought to town at the hazard of 
 being robbed. Walpole, in his last 
 journals, gives a curious picture of 
 the gaming and extravagance of the 
 young men of quality at this period. 
 They had a club at one Almack's in 
 Pall Mall, where they played only for 
 rouleaus of 50/. each rouleau ; and 
 generally there was 10.000/. in specie 
 on the table. Lord Holland had paid 
 above 20,000/. for his two sons. Nor 
 were the manners of the gamesters, 
 or even their dresses for play, unde- 
 serving of notice. They began by 
 pulling off their embroidered clothes, 
 and put on frieze great-coats, or 
 turned tlieir coats inside outwards for 
 luck. They put on pieces of leather, 
 (such as are worn by footmen when 
 they clean their knives,) to save their 
 lace ruffles : and to guard tlieir eyes 
 from the light, and to prevent tum- 
 bling their hair, wore liigli-crowned 
 straw hats with broad brims, and 
 adorned with flowers and ribbons, 
 and masks to conceal their emotions 
 when they played at Quinze. Each 
 gamester had a small neat stand by 
 him with a largo rim, to hold their 
 tea, or a wooden bowl with an edge of 
 omioiu, tc hold their rouleaus. 
 
 Fox played ad-nirably both at Whist 
 and at Picquet ; wuk v^"\i skill, indeed, 
 that by the general ^.l-nission of 
 Brookes's Club, he might h^w made 
 four thousand pounds a-year, as u!:rY 
 calculated, at those games, if he would 
 have confined himself to them. But 
 
110 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 his misfortune arose from playing 
 games at cliance, particularly at Faro. 
 After eating aud drinking plentifully, 
 lie sat down to the Faro table, and 
 inevitably rose a loser. Once, indeed, 
 and once only, he won about eight 
 thousand pounds in the course of a 
 single evening. Part of the money he 
 paid away to his creditors, aud the re- 
 mainder he lost almost immediately. 
 Before he attained his thirtieth year, he 
 had complelely dissipated everything 
 that he could either command, or 
 could procure by the most ruinous 
 expedients. He had even undergone, 
 at times, many of the severest priva- 
 tions annexed to the vicissitudes that 
 mark a gamester's progress; fre- 
 quently wanting money to del'ray the 
 common daily wants of, the most 
 pressing nature. Topham Beauclerc, 
 who lived much in Fox's society, 
 affirmed, that no man could form au 
 idea of the extremities to which he 
 had been driven in order to raise 
 money, alter losing his last guinea at 
 the Faro table. He was reduced for 
 successive days to such distress, as 
 to borrow money from the waiters of 
 Brookes's Club. The very chairmen, 
 whom he was unable to pay, used to 
 dun him for their arrears. In 1781, 
 he might be considered as an extinct 
 volcano, for the pecuniary aliment 
 that had fed the flame was long con- 
 sumed. Yet he then occupied a house 
 or lodgincs in St, James's-street, 
 close to Brookes's Club, where he 
 passed almost every hour which was 
 not devoted to the House of Com- 
 mons. Brookes's was then the rally- 
 ing point or rendezvous of the Oppo- 
 sition ; w here, wliile faro, whist, and 
 supper prolonged the night, the prin- 
 cipal members of the Minority in both 
 Houses met, in order to compare 
 their information, or to concert and 
 mature their parliamentary measures. 
 Great sums were then borrowed of 
 Jews at exoibitant premiums. Fox 
 called his outward room, where the 
 
 Jews waited till he rose, the Jerusalem 
 Chamber. His brother Stephen was 
 enormously (at ; George Selwyn said 
 he was in the right to deal with Shy- 
 locks, as he could give them pounds 
 of flesh. 
 
 Walpole further notes that in the 
 debate on the Thirty-nine Articles, 
 Feb. 6, 1772, Fox did not shine, 
 "nor could it be wondered at. He 
 had sat up playing at hazard at Al- 
 mack's, from Tuesday evening the 
 4th, till five in the afternoon of Wed- 
 nesday, 5th. An hour before he had 
 recovered 12,000/. that he had lost, 
 and by dinner, which was at five 
 o'clock, he had ended losing 11,000/. 
 On the Thursday, he spoke in the 
 above debate ; went to dinner at 
 past eleven at night ; from thence to 
 White's, where he drank till seven 
 the next morning; thence to Almack's, 
 where he won 0000/. ; and between 
 three and four in the afternoon he set 
 out for Newmarket. His brother 
 Stephen lost'11,000/. two nights alter, 
 and Charles 10,000/. more on the 
 13th ; so that, in three nights, the 
 two brothers, the eldest not twenty- 
 five, lost 32,000/. Fox complained 
 of the quiet of the session, and said 
 the House of Commons was always 
 up before he was. There being a 
 report that he was going to be mar- 
 ried, it was told to his father. Lord 
 Holland, who replied, 'I am glad of 
 it, for then he will go to bed at least 
 one night.' " 
 
 Towards the close of this year Fox 
 was publicly spoken of as having been 
 more successful at Newmarket than 
 had been the lot of many adventurers 
 there for years. The newspapers cal- 
 culated his winnings at 28,000/. Fox 
 was said to have the finest stud in 
 the kingdom : he refused 8000/. for 
 his favourite horse Pantaloon. 
 
 The political fortunes of Fox re- 
 ceived a great blow by his dismissal 
 from the Ministry, in 1774, for his 
 flippant behaviour to Lord North, 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 from beins; a Lord of the Treasury. 
 Edmund Burke had great weight with 
 him ; and Burke, tired of a hopeless 
 opposition, of desperate fortune, and 
 apt to deal in monied projects, had, 
 in concert witli Garriok the actor, 
 engaged Fox in soliciting Lord North 
 for a grant of land in America. If it 
 succeeded, Burke and Fox would have 
 sold their shares ; if it miscarried, Fox 
 would be a great acquisition to the 
 discontented. Lord North refused 
 the grant — Fox attacked him, and 
 was turned out. Upon this, George 
 Selwyn said to Fox, " Charles, for the 
 future, I will fast and eat salt fish on 
 the day you were turned out. You 
 shall be my Charles the Martyr now. 
 I am tired of the old one, your great- 
 grandfather: his head can never be 
 sewed on again : but as yours can be, 
 I'll stick to you." Fox was infinitely 
 h)irt at his disgrace, and had reasons 
 enough. Wlien Lord North com- 
 plained of his flippancies to the King, 
 his Majesty, who hated him, said, 
 " Why don't you turn him out ? you 
 may if you will." Fox knew not 
 where to turn : at first, he said he 
 would study the law; his character 
 was so decried that the mob believed 
 he was turned out for robbing the 
 treasury. 
 
 The immediate cause and manner 
 of Fox's dismissal was his forcing 
 Lord North to vote with him ; he had 
 previously given offence by his motion 
 on the Royal Marriage Bill. On the 
 24th of February, he was dismissed 
 from the Board of Treasury, on which 
 occasion Lord North wrote him the 
 following laconic note: "His Majesty 
 has thought proper to order a new 
 Commission of Treasury to be made 
 out, in which I do not see your name. 
 
 ^NoRTH." 
 
 When Lord Bath was told of the 
 first determination of turning out 
 Pitt, and letting Fox remain, he said 
 it put him in mind of a story of the 
 Gunpowder Plot. The Lord Cham- 
 
 berlain was sent to examine the vaults 
 under the Parliament House, and, re- 
 turning with his report, said he had 
 found five-and-twenty barrels of gun- 
 powder; that he had removed ten of 
 them, and hoped the other fifteen 
 would do no harm. Was ever any- 
 thing so well and so just ? 
 
 Here is a lamentable picture of Fox 
 in difficulties. Walpole writes to the 
 Hon. H. S. Conway, May 31, 1781: 
 " I had been to see if Lady Aylesbury 
 was come to town ; as I came up St. 
 James's-strtet, I saw a cart and por- 
 ters at Charles's (Fox) door ; coppers 
 and old chests of drawers loading. In 
 short, his success at faro has awakened 
 a host of creditors; but unless his 
 bank had swelled to the size of the 
 Bank of England, it could not have 
 yielded a sop apiece for each. Epsom, 
 too, had been unpropitious ; and one 
 creditor has actually seized and carried 
 off his goods, which did not seem 
 worth removing. As I returned full 
 of this scene, whom should I find 
 sauntering by my own door, but 
 Charles ? He came up and talked to 
 me at the coach-window, on the Mar- 
 riage Bill, with as much sangfroid as 
 if he knew nothing of what had hap- 
 pened. I have no admiration of in- 
 sensibility to one's own faults, espe- 
 cially when committed out of vanity. 
 Perhaps the whole philosophy con- 
 sisted in the commission. If i/ok 
 could have been as much to blame, 
 the last thing you would bear well 
 would be your own reflections. The 
 more marvellous Fox's parts are, the 
 more one is provoked at his foUies, 
 which comfort so many rascals and 
 blockheads, and make all that is ad- 
 mirable and amiable in him only matter 
 of regret to those who like him as I 
 do." Yet Lord Holland said that 
 Mr. Fox never had much inter- 
 course with Horace Walpole, and 
 he thought, did not like him at all. 
 Amidst the wildest excesses of youth, 
 even while the perpetual victim of 
 
112 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 his passion for play. Fox eagerly cul- 
 tivated at intervals his taste for letters, 
 especially the Greek and Roman his- 
 torians and poets ; and he found re- 
 sources in their works, under the 
 most severe depressions occasioned by 
 ill success at the gaming-table. One 
 morning, after Fos had passed the 
 whole night in company with Topham 
 Beauclero at the Faro, the two friends 
 were about to separate. Fox Jiad lost 
 throughout the night, and was in a 
 frame of mind approaching despera- 
 tion. Beauclerc's anxiety for the con- 
 sequences which might ensue led him 
 to be early at Fox's lodgings ; and on 
 arriving, he inquired, not without 
 apprehension, whether he had risen. 
 The servant replied that Mr. Fox was 
 in the drawing-room, when Beauclerc 
 walked upstairs, and cautiously opened 
 the door, expecting to beliold a frantic 
 gamester stretched on tlie floor, be- 
 wailing his losses, or plunged in moody 
 despair ; but he was astonished to 
 find him reading a Greek Herodotus. 
 " What would you have me do ?" said 
 Fox, " I have lost my last shilling." 
 Upon other occasions, after staking 
 and losing all that he could raise at 
 Faro, instead of exclaiming against 
 Fortune, or manifesting the agitation 
 natural under such circumstances, he 
 would lay his head on the table, and 
 retain his place, but exhausted by 
 mental and bodily fatigue, almost im- 
 mediately fall into a profound sleep. 
 
 Of Mr. Fox Mr, Rogers recollected 
 much, and many persons will therefore 
 feel a slight interest in looking over 
 the disconnected memoranda which 
 he has left us. We like to read the 
 following of the great statesman : — 
 "Very candid — Retracts instantly — 
 Continually putting wood on the fire 
 — His Trajan, liis Venus, his Mosaics 
 from Tivoli— His attachment to par- 
 ticular books — his common-place book 
 — they keep a jo'.irnal at home and 
 
 abroad " When Francis said 
 
 that Wilberforce, if it was left to him 
 
 to decide whether Pitt should go out 
 of oifice for ten months and the Slave- 
 trade be abolished for ever, or Pitt 
 remain in, with the Slave-trade, would 
 decide for Pitt, — 'Yes,' said Fox, 'Pm 
 afraid he would be for Barabbas.'" 
 ..." After all, Burke was a damned 
 wrong-headed fellow through life, 
 always jealous and contradictory." 
 There is something of the simple 
 emphasis of real conversation in these 
 phrases — we feel that they were said. 
 Mr. Rogers observes that his memo- 
 rials of Mr. Fox show " his playful- 
 ness, his love of letters, and his good 
 nature in unbending himself to a 
 young man." There is no doubt that 
 they do so ; and if Mr. Rogers had 
 told us the actual details of what 
 happened, they would have shown 
 these estimable qualities still more. 
 Few statesmen have felt so ardent a 
 love of letters as Fox — fewer stiU 
 have recurred to them with the same 
 fresh gaiety in the midst of a very 
 unsuccessful political career. He 
 thought poetry the "great thing, after 
 all," and agreed with Burke that there 
 was " no truth" — no adequate repre- 
 sentation, that is, of great subjects — 
 elsewhere. His insensibility to the 
 kindred art is in contrast curious: — 
 " Mrs. Fox said the only fault she 
 could find with him was his aversion 
 to music. The utmost she could say 
 for Jiim was that he could read Homer, 
 while she played and sung to herself." 
 Fox died at Chiswick House, the 
 villa of the Duke of Devonshire. The 
 chamber is small, the walls are covered 
 with tapestry, and over one of the 
 doors hangs the portrait of Pope. 
 Lady Chatterton, in 1S41, described 
 the bed on which the statesman died: 
 the curtains are chintz, a large and 
 flowery pattern of green and red, upon 
 a light ground ; the wooden cornice 
 is painted a light brown and green ; 
 the fringe round the curtains, the 
 tassels, and lining are green. 
 Very shortly before Fox died, he 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 113 
 
 complained of great uneasiness in his 
 stomach ; and Cline advised him to 
 try the effects of a cup of coffee. It 
 was accordingly ordered, but not 
 being brought as soon as was ex- 
 pected, Mrs. Fox expressed some im- 
 patience ; upon which Fox said, with 
 his usual sweet smile, "Remember, 
 my dear, that good coffee cannot be 
 made in a moment." 
 
 Lady Holland announced the death 
 of Eox, in her own odd manner, to 
 those relatives and intimate friends of 
 bis who were sitting* in a room near 
 his bedchamber, and waiting to hear 
 that he had breathed his last : she 
 walked through the room with her 
 apron thrown over her head. 
 
 " How fondly (says Rogers) the 
 surviving friends of JFox cherished his 
 memory ! Many years after his death, 
 I was at a fete given by the Duke of 
 Devonshire at Chiswiek House. Sir 
 Robert Adair and I wandered about 
 tlie apartments up and down stairs. 
 'In which room did Pox expire?' 
 asked Adair. ' In this very room.' 
 Immediately Adair burst into tears 
 with a vehemence of grief such as I 
 hardly ever saw." 
 
 Pitt's patkonage. 
 Mr. Pitt having been brought up 
 to the law, went the Western Circuit, 
 as a barrister, in 1780, and while 
 there, was retained as a junior coun- 
 sel, in a cause, with a small fee, by 
 Mr. James Dutton, who became 
 shortly afterwards member for the 
 county of Gloucester. After this first 
 acquaintance made with each other, 
 they met, however, no more, except 
 in Parliament, till the beginning of 
 the year 1784. At that time, Mr. 
 Pitt, though Pirst Lord of the Trea- 
 sury and Chancellor of the Exchequer, 
 could not command a majority in 
 the House of Commons, and was 
 anxiously looking round for assistance 
 and support. Mr. Datton requested 
 an interview, and waited on him as 
 
 First Minister, and expressed his 
 desire to support his Majesty's 
 Government ; but as the state of par- 
 ties rendered probable the speedy 
 dissolution of Parliament, if Mr. Pitt 
 retained office, and it being inconve- 
 nient for Mr. Dutton to stand a 
 contested election for Gloucestershire, 
 he hoped for the conditional promise 
 of bemg recommended to his Majesty 
 for a peerage, in return for his in- 
 terest and vote. To this proposition 
 Mr. Pitt replied, that he should be 
 happy to receive Mr. Dutton's aid, 
 and should always retain a becoming 
 remembrance of his friendsliip or 
 assistance ; but that he did not desire 
 and could not accept it under such a 
 condition, to which he would in no 
 degree accede, nor would come under 
 any engagement of the proposed 
 nature. With this short answer, Pitt 
 dismissed Mr. Dutton; who wisely, 
 however, trusting to his gratitude, 
 voted with him on every division, 
 during the critical period which fol- 
 lowed. Nor did he miscalculate his 
 interests ; for within four months 
 afterwards, in May of the same year, 
 Mr. Dutton received his reward, being 
 created a peer, by the title of Lord 
 Sherborne. 
 
 It is curious to observe how fre- 
 quently Fox alludes to the early 
 writings of Cobbett, bearing uncon- 
 scious testimony to the influence, 
 temporary but decisive, exerted by 
 the " Register " over the opinions 
 even of the leading statesmen of the 
 time. 
 
 STATUE OF MR. PITT. 
 
 We possess, in London, a fine 
 statue of Pitt, by Sir Francis Chan- 
 trey, set up in Hanover-square, in 
 1831 ; it is of bronze, and cost 7000^. 
 Of its erection, Mr. Peter Cunningham 
 relates : " I was present, with Sir 
 Francis Chantrey, and my father, who 
 was Chantrey's assistant. The statue 
 was placed on its pedestal between 
 I 
 
114 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 seven and eight in the morning, and 
 while the ■workmen were away at 
 their breakfasts, a rope was thrown 
 round the neck of the figure, and a 
 vigorous attempt made by several 
 sturdy reformers to pull it down. 
 When word of what they were about 
 was brought to my father, he ex- 
 claimed, with a smile upon his face, 
 'The cramps are leaded, and they may 
 pull till doomsday.' The cramps are 
 the iron bolts fastening the statue to 
 the pedestal. The attempt was soon 
 abandoned." 
 
 GOOD-HUMOUEED LOED NOETH. 
 
 Lady Charlotte Lindsay tells of 
 her father. Lord North, that " His 
 manners were those of a high-bred 
 gentleman, particularly easy and na- 
 tural; indeed, good breeding was so 
 marked a part of his character that it 
 would have been affectation in him to 
 have been otherwise than well-bred. 
 With such good taste and good 
 breeding, his raillery could not fail to 
 be of the best sort — always amusing 
 and never wounding. He was the 
 least fastidious of men, possessing the 
 happy art of extracting any good that 
 was to be extracted out of anybody. 
 He never would let his children call 
 people bores; and I remember the 
 triumphant joy of his family, when, 
 after a tedious visit from a very prosy 
 and empty man, he exclaimed : 
 'Well, that man is an insuii'erable 
 bore !' He used frequently to have 
 large parties of foreigners and distin- 
 guished persons to dine with him at 
 Bushy Park. He was himself the 
 life and soul of these parties. To 
 have seen him then you would have 
 said that he was there in his true 
 element. Yet, I think that he had 
 really more enjoyment when he went 
 into the country on a Saturday and a 
 Sunday, with only his own family, or 
 one or two intimate friends : he then 
 entered into all the jokes and fun of 
 his children, was the companion and 
 
 intimate friend of his elder sons and 
 daughters, and the merry, entertaining 
 playfellow of his little girl, who was 
 five years younger than any of the 
 others. To his servants he was a 
 most kind and indulgent master : if 
 provoked by stupidity or imperti- 
 nence, a few hasty, impatient words 
 might escape him ; but I never saw 
 him really out of humour. He had a 
 drunken, stupid groom, who used to 
 provoke him ; and who, from this cir- 
 cumstance, was called by the chil- 
 dren, ' the man that puts papa in a 
 passion;' and I think he continued all 
 his life putting papa in a passion and 
 being forgiven, for I believe he died 
 in his service." 
 
 Of Lord North's somnolent habits 
 some humorous tales are told. 
 Thus, when a vehement deolaimer, 
 calling aloud for his head, turned 
 round and perceived his victim un- 
 consciously indulging in a soft slum- 
 ber, and, becoming still more exaspe- 
 rated, denounced the minister as ca- 
 pable of sleeping while he ruined his 
 country, the latter only complained 
 how cruel it was to be denied a 
 solace which other criminals so often 
 enjoyed, that of having a night's rest 
 before their fate. When surprised in 
 a Uke indulgence during the perform- 
 ance of a very inferior artist, who, 
 however, showed equal indignation at 
 so ill-timed a recreation, he contented 
 himself with observing how hard it 
 was that he should be grudged so 
 very natural a release from consider- 
 able suffering; but, as if recoiled ing 
 himself, added, that it was somewhat 
 unjust in the gentleman to complain 
 of him for taking the remedy which 
 he had himself been considerate 
 enough to administer. 
 
 Lord North bore iiis political ele- 
 vation with modesty, and showed 
 equanimity in his fall. On the even- 
 ing when he announced his resigna- 
 tion in the House of Conmions, 
 [March 20, 1782,] snow was falUng, 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 115 
 
 and the weather was bitterly cold. 
 Lord North kept liis carriage. As he 
 was passing through the great-coat 
 room of the House of Commons, 
 many members (chiefly his oppo- 
 nents) crowded the passage. When 
 his carriage was announced, he put 
 one or two of his friends into it, and 
 then making a bow to his opponents, 
 said, " Good night, gentlemen ; it is 
 the first time I have known the ad- 
 vantage of being in the secret." 
 
 LORD SIDMOTJTH "THE DOCTOE." 
 
 Lady Hester Stanhope tells us that 
 Lord Chatham's first coachman being 
 taken ill, the postilion was sent into 
 the town for the family doctor ; but 
 he being from home, the messenger 
 brought with him Mr. Addington, 
 who, by consent of Lord Chatham, 
 attended the coachman. His lordship 
 was so pleased with Mr. A. that he 
 took him as apothecary for the ser- 
 vants, then for himself; and finding 
 he spoke good sense on medicine, and 
 then on politics, he at last made him 
 his physician. Dr. Addington, after 
 practising in London for some time 
 with distinction, retired to Reading, 
 and there married ; and in 1757, was 
 born their eldest son, Henry Adding- 
 ton, afterwards Viscount Sidmoutn. 
 Hence his lordship's political sobriquet 
 of "the Doctor;" and in George 
 Cruikshank's clever woodcut carica- 
 tures of the unpopular minister, made 
 familiar to thousands of readers, illus- 
 trating the political squibs of William 
 Hone, "the Doctor" invariably car- 
 ries his professional insignia of the 
 clyster bag and pipe. Little, it has 
 been observed, did Walpole or any- 
 body else foresee that the son of the 
 empiric (Dr. Addington) should, 
 within a very few years after Wal- 
 pole's death, be Prime Minister of 
 England, and that his cant appel- 
 lation (from his father's profession) 
 would be that of " the Doctor !" 
 
 POZZO DI BOEGO. 
 
 This celebrated diplomatist, born in 
 Corsica, at Ajaccio, m 1764!, the town 
 which four years afterwards became 
 the birthplace of Napoleon Bona- 
 parte, had more to do with the over- 
 throw of his fellow-townsman than 
 any contemporary. Pozzo first ap- 
 peared as the right hand of the great 
 Paoli, expelled from Corsica, with the 
 British, in 1797. He entered into the 
 diplomatic service of Russia in 1803. 
 An inveterate enmity which he was 
 then cherishing against his former 
 friend and fellow-townsman, Napo- 
 leon, i-oused all his faculties into ac- 
 tivity. He, however, failed in various 
 efforts: his master was forced to 
 agree to an armistice with Napo- 
 leon, in 1807; and Pozzo was obliged 
 to be absent for some time from 
 Russia. Yet, the spirit of opposition 
 within him did not abate; and he 
 concerted fresh measures with the 
 English Government for another 
 onset. He was recalled by the 
 Russian emperor in 1812, and then 
 commenced a series of diplomatic 
 strokes which effectually aided in 
 overthrowing the power of Napo- 
 leon. It was he who prevailed 
 upon the Swedish crown-prince 
 Bernadotte, to join the confede 
 racy against the French — he who 
 counselled the allies to bring the 
 contest to a crisis by marching upon 
 Paris — he who warned the congress 
 of Vienna of the possibility of Bona- 
 parte returning from Elba. Nor when 
 his diplomacy had done everything 
 that it could, did his master-passion 
 become less active. He shed his 
 blood at Waterloo to foil the last 
 struggle of his great countryman; 
 and when he heard that his van- 
 quished adversary had died in St. 
 Helena, he exclaimed, with vindictive 
 exultation, " I have not killed Napo- 
 leon, but I have thrown the last 
 shovelful of earth upon him." Pozzo 
 was subsequently Russian ambassador 
 I 2 
 
116 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 at the Erench court : he died at Paris, 
 in 1842. 
 
 POLITICAL NICKNAMES. 
 
 Political nicknames were the light 
 artillery of Cobbett, in his Register, 
 perhaps never more felicitously ap- 
 plied than by this sarcastic politician, 
 in the memorable instance, when, in 
 1825, the B.ightHon.F.J.Eobinson, 
 as Chancellor of theExchequer, boasted 
 in Parliament of an expanded circula- 
 tion exceeding by nearly 50 per cent, 
 the amount in 1823. This was the 
 era of " Prosperity Robinson" (after- 
 wards first Earl of Ripon), who 
 boasted of " dispensing the blessings 
 of civilization from the portals of 
 ancient monarchy." In the King's 
 Speech of 1825, his Majesty said : 
 "There never was a period in the 
 history of the country when all the 
 great interests of society were at the 
 same time in so thriving a condition." 
 But the sunshine was succeeded by 
 the murkiest of gloom — " the Panic 
 of 1825," when one-eighth of the 
 country banks were ruined, and six of 
 the Loudon banks stopped payment ; 
 and the two years' increase in the 
 circulating medium was annihilated 
 in a few weeks. 
 
 When, in 1821, Alderman Wood 
 was reproached with having ill advised 
 Queen Caroline, he diffidently ad- 
 mitted that his conduct might not be 
 "Absolute Wisdom," by which, for a 
 considerable time, he was jocularly 
 known. 
 
 Finality John was the somewhat 
 too familiar sobriquet applied to Lord 
 John Russell, who involuntarily proved 
 the true prophet of the fate of his 
 own measure : he it was who declared 
 the finality of the Reform Bill ; and 
 when, in 1861, his lordship proposed 
 to amend the law, the country took 
 Lord John at his word, and by their 
 indifference, pronounced the Reform 
 Act to be final. Sydney Smith oddly 
 said, that when Lord John visited the 
 
 West of England after one of his 
 political defeats on the Reform Bill, 
 the country-people thought him of very 
 small stature, which Sydney Smitlj 
 attributed to these mortifications. 
 
 In December, 1834, a small party 
 in the House of Commons was nick- 
 named by O'Connell, as the Derby 
 Dilly,* "carrying six insides," the 
 leader of whom was Lord Stanley, 
 now Earl of Derby. 
 
 HOW TO SETTLE A HADICAL. 
 
 Captain Basil Hall was once tra- 
 velling in an old-fashioned stage- 
 coach, when he found himself opposite 
 to a good-humoured, jolly Dandie- 
 Dinmont-looking person, with whom 
 he entered into conversation, and 
 found him most intelligent. Dandle, 
 who was a staunch Loyalist, as well 
 as a stout yeoman, seemed equally 
 pleased with his companion. " Troth, 
 sir," he said, " I am weel content to 
 meet wi' a discreet, civil-spoken gen- 
 tleman wi' whom 1 can have a rational 
 conversation, for I have been fairly 
 put out. You see, sir, a Radical 
 fellow came into the coach. It was 
 the only time I ever saw a Radical : 
 an' he began abusing everything, say- 
 ing that tills wasna a kintra fit to live 
 in. And first he abused the king. 
 Sir, I stood that. And then he 
 abused the constitution. Sir, I stood 
 that. And then he abused the 
 farmers. Well, sir, I stood it all. 
 But then he took to abusing the yeo- 
 manry. Now, sir, you ken I couldna 
 stand that, for I am a yeoman raysel : 
 so I was under the necessity of being 
 a wee rude-like till him. So I seized 
 him by the cuff of the neck : ' Do you 
 see that window, sir ? Apologeeze, 
 apologeeze this very minute, or I'll just 
 put your head through the window.' 
 Wi'that he apologeezed. ' Now, sir,' 
 I said, ' you'll gang out o' the coach.' 
 And wi' tliat I opened the door, and 
 
 * " The Derby dilly, carrying three in- 
 sides." — Canning. 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 117 
 
 shot him outintilthe road; and that's 
 all I ever saw o' the Radical." — 
 Burgon's Life of Tytler. 
 
 GENERAL WOLPE. 
 
 When, in 1759, Pitt entrusted 
 General Wolfe with the expedition 
 against Quebec, on the day preceding 
 his embarkation, Pitt, desirous of 
 giving his last verbal instructions, in- 
 vited him to dinner at Hayes, Lord 
 Temple being the only other guest. 
 As the evening advanced, Wolfe, 
 heated perhaps by his own aspiring 
 thoughts, and the unwonted society 
 of statesmen, broke forth in a strain 
 of gasconade and bravado. He drew 
 his sword and rapped the table with 
 it, he flourished it round the room, 
 and he talked of the mighty things 
 which that sword was to achieve. The 
 two ministers sat aghast at an exhi- 
 bition so unusual from any man of 
 real sense and spirit. And. when, at 
 last, Wolfe had taken his leave, and 
 liis carriage was heard to roll from the 
 door, Pitt seemed for the moment 
 shaken in the right opinion which his 
 deliberate judgment had formed of 
 Wolfe : he lifted up his eyes and 
 arms, and exclaimed to Lord Temple : 
 " Good God ! that I should have en- 
 trusted the fate of the country and of 
 the administration to such hands !" 
 This story was told by Lord Temple 
 himself to the Eight Hon. Thomas 
 Grenville, the friend of Lord Mahon, 
 who has inserted the anecdote in his 
 History of England, vol. iv. Lord 
 Temple also told Mr. Grenville, that 
 on the evening in question, Wolfe had 
 partaken most sparingly of wine, so 
 that this ebullition could not have 
 been the effect of any excess. The 
 incident affords a striking proof how 
 much a fault of manner may obscure 
 and disparage high excellence of mind. 
 Lord Mahon adds : " It confirms 
 Wolfe's own avowal, that he was not 
 seen to advantage in the common oc- 
 currences of life, and shows how shy- 
 
 ness may, at intervals, rush, as it 
 were, for refuge, into the opposite 
 extreme ; but it should also lead us to 
 view such defects of manner with in- 
 dulgence, as proving that they may 
 co-exist with the highest ability and 
 the purest virtue." 
 
 THE VICTOBY OP CULLODEN. 
 
 Great were the faint-heartedness 
 which seized almost all the loyal part 
 of the country, and the folly and con- 
 fusion which reigned, when Prince 
 Charles was making his way to Edin- 
 burgh, and on from Edinburgh to the 
 South. Jupiter Carlyle was with 
 Smollett in the British Coffee-house, 
 a great place of resort for Scotchmen, 
 when the news of the victory of Cul- 
 loden, which put an end to so much 
 disgrace, came to London. Smollett 
 then lived in' Mayfair, and Carlyle had 
 to take supper in New Bond-street, 
 and they went very cautiously through 
 the streets of uproarious London to 
 their destinations. The mobs were 
 riotous, the squibs were flying, and 
 the two canny Scots retired into a 
 narrow entry to pocket their wigs 
 lest they should be burnt, and to draw 
 their swords lest they should be at- 
 tacked. Smollett went further, and 
 cautioned Carlyle not to open his 
 mouth, lest he should betray his 
 country, and excite the insolence of 
 the mob against the Scotch marauders; 
 " for John Bull," said he, " is as 
 haughty and valiant to-night as he 
 was abject and cowardly on the Black 
 Wednesday when the Highlanders 
 were at Derby." After the trembling 
 pair got to the top of the Haymarket, 
 through an incessant fire of squibs, 
 they took to the narrow lanes, and 
 met nobody but a few boys at a pitiful 
 bonfire, to which they contributed ' 
 sixpence in grateful memory of the 
 singeing which their wigs had es- 
 caped from an infuriated mob. 
 
 Cumberland-gate, Hyde-park, and 
 Great Cumberland-street, were named 
 
118 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 after ihe hero of Culloden: in the 
 latter street is a public-house, with a 
 full-length portrait of the Duke of 
 Cumberland for its sign. Horace 
 Walpole has an excellent reflection 
 upon this sort of celebrity. " I was 
 yesterday," he writes, in 1747, "out 
 of town, and the very signs as I passed 
 through the villages made me make 
 very quaint reflections on the mor- 
 tality of fame and popularity. I ob- 
 served how the Duke of Cumberland's 
 head had succeeded almost univer- 
 sally to Admiral Vernon's, as his 
 head had left but few traces of the 
 Duke of Ormond's. I pondered these 
 things in my heart, and said unto 
 myself, ' Surely, all glory is but a 
 sign.'" 
 
 Wilkes obtained a temporary noto- 
 riety of this kind, when his head became 
 a sign. An old lady, in passing a 
 public-house thus distinguished, to 
 which her companion called her at- 
 tention, " Ah !" replied she, " Wilkes 
 swings everywhere but where he 
 ought." 
 
 LOKD nelson's AUM. 
 
 The great Nelson lost his arm at 
 the battle of Cape St. Vincent, in 
 1797, from which his sufi'erings were 
 very great and protracted. " He had 
 scarcely any intermission of pain, day 
 or night, for three months after his 
 return to England. Lady Nelson, at 
 his earnest request, attended the 
 dressing of his arm, till she had ac- 
 quired sufiicient resolution and skill 
 to dress it herself. One night, during; 
 this state of suffering, after a day of 
 constant pain. Nelson retired early to 
 bed, in hope of enjoying some respite 
 by means of laudanum. He was, at 
 that time, lodging at No. 141, Bond- 
 street, and the family was soon dis- 
 turbed by a mob knocking loudly at 
 the door. The news of Duncan's vic- 
 tory had been made public, and the 
 house was not illuminated. But when 
 the mob was told that Admiral Nelson 
 
 lay there in bed, badly wounded, the 
 foremost of them made answer, ' You 
 shall hear no more from us to- 
 night.' " 
 
 MEETING OF NELSON AND WELLING- 
 TON. 
 
 At the Colonial Office, in Downing- 
 street, in a small waiting-room, on 
 the right hand as you enter, the Duke 
 of Wellington, then Sir Arthur Wel- 
 lesley, and Lord Nelson, both waiting 
 to see the Secretary of State, met the 
 only time in their lives. The Duke 
 knew Nelson from his pictures. Lord 
 Nelson did not know the Duke, but 
 was so struck with his conversation 
 that he stepped out of the room to 
 inquire who he was. A fine print has 
 been engraved of this meeting of 
 England's two greatest heroes. 
 
 Mr. Cunningham, in his Handbook 
 of London, relates the following in- 
 teresting circumstance, which he was 
 told by an old clerk on the establish 
 ment of the Audit Office, at Somerset 
 House : — " When I first came to this 
 building," he said, " I was in the habit 
 of seeing, for many mornings, a thin, 
 spare naval officer, with only one arm, 
 enter the vestibule at a smart step, 
 and make direct for the Admiralty 
 over the rough, round stones of the 
 quadrangle, instead of taking what 
 others generally took, and continue to 
 take, the smooth pavement of the 
 sides. His thin, fraO figure shook at 
 every step, and I often wondered why 
 he chose so rough a footway ; but I 
 ceased to wonder when I heard that 
 the thin, frail officer was no other 
 than Lord Nelson, who always took," 
 continued my informant, " the nearest 
 way to the place he wanted to go 
 to." 
 
 WHO SHOT THE MAN THAT KILLED 
 NELSON ? 
 
 By the latest and most authentic 
 account of the battle of Trafalgar, 
 contained in Sir Harris Nioolas's col- 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 119 
 
 lection of the Nelson Despatches, we 
 leai-n that " it had been part of the 
 prayer Nelson wrote the last thing 
 before the battle commenced, 'that 
 the British fleet might be as dis- 
 tinguished for humanity in victory as 
 for bravery in battle.' Setting an 
 example himself, he twice gave orders 
 to cease firing upon the Redoubtable, 
 supposing she had struck, because her 
 great guns were silent; and, as she 
 carried no flag, it was impossible to 
 ascertain the fact. Erom the ship 
 which he had thus twice spared he 
 received his death-wound. About 25 
 minutes past 1, as he was walking the 
 middle of the quarter-deck with Cap- 
 tain Hardy, the fatal ball was fired 
 from the enemy's mizen-top; which, 
 from the situation of the two ships 
 lying on board of each other, was not 
 more than 15 yards distant from that 
 part of the deck where his lordship 
 stood. A sergeant of marines and 
 two seamen, who had come up on see- 
 ing liim fall, now, by Captain Hardy's 
 directions, bore him to the cockpit — 
 the hero, with his customary coolness 
 and considerateness, covering his face 
 with his handkerchief, that he might 
 not on his way be seen by or distress 
 his crew. ... It was from the mizen- 
 top of the Redoubtable (filled, as 
 Lamartine states, with riflemen from 
 the Tyrol,) that the fatal shot had 
 been aimed, but with such success 
 was the fire from that quarter returned 
 from the deck of the Victory that it 
 was not long before two Preuchmen 
 only were left alive there. One of 
 them was recognised by an old quarter- 
 master as the man who had wounded 
 Nelson, from his wearing a white frock 
 and a glazed cocked hat. Two mid- 
 shipmen, Messrs. CoUingwood and 
 Pollard, kept firing at the mizen-top 
 of the RedoubtMe until one of the 
 only two Frenchmen then in it at- 
 tempting to make his escape down the 
 rigging, Mr. Pollar^, then not more 
 than 16 years of age, fi^ed at and 
 
 shot him in the back, when he fell 
 dead on the Redoubtable' s poop. His 
 companion then came forvrard to fire 
 again. 'That's him: that's him!' 
 cried the quartermaster, pointing at 
 him, and at the same moment received 
 a sliot in the mouth, which killed him 
 on the spot. Both the midshipmen 
 then flred at the same time, and the 
 man dropped dead in the top. When 
 they took possession of the prize they 
 went together into the mizen-top, and 
 found him lying there, with one ball 
 through his head and another through 
 his breast." 
 
 Wellington's peedictions op the 
 peninsular campaign. 
 The following is illustrative of the 
 prophetic perception of Wellington 
 at the outset of the contest: — "He 
 dined in Harley-street one day in 
 June, 1808, just before he set out in 
 command of the expedition which 
 was assembling in Cork harbour. The 
 ladies had withdrawn, and he sat iete- 
 a-tete with his host, and was silent. 
 On being asked what he was thinking 
 of, he replied, 'To tell you the truth, 
 1 was thinking of the French whom I 
 am going to fight. I have never seen 
 them since the campaign in Flanders, 
 when they were already capital sol- 
 diers ; and a dozen years of successes 
 must have made them still better. 
 They have beaten all the world, and 
 are supponed to be invincible. They 
 have, besides, it seems, a new system, 
 whibh has out-manoeuvred, and over- 
 whelmed all the armies of Europe. 
 But, no matter, my die is cast. They 
 may overwhelm, but I do not think they 
 will out-manceuvre me. In the first 
 place, I am not afraid of them, as 
 everybody else seems to be; and se- 
 condly, if what I hear of their system 
 of manoeuvres be true, I think it a false 
 one against troops steady enough — as I 
 hope mine are — to receive them with 
 the bayonet. I suspect that all the 
 continental armies were more than 
 
120 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 half beaten before tbe battle began. 
 I, at least, will not be frightened 
 beforehand." 
 
 Wellington's defence op the 
 waterloo campaign. 
 
 The Duke would never have fought 
 at Waterloo, unless certain of the aid 
 of Blucher ; and it is idle, therefore, 
 to speculate on the chance of what 
 the event of the day might have been 
 had this support been unexpectedly 
 wanting. French writers assert that 
 he must have been crushed ; but from 
 the following interesting passage we 
 see that the Duke held a different 
 opinion. The Rev. Mr. Gleig tells us 
 that — 
 
 "After dinner the conversation 
 turned on the Waterloo campaign, 
 when Croker alluded to the criticisms 
 of the Trench military writers, some 
 of whom contended that the Duke 
 had fought the battle in a position 
 full of difficulty, because he had no 
 practicable retreat. The Duke said, 
 ' At all events, they failed in putting 
 it to the test. The road to Brussels 
 was practicable every yard for such a 
 purpose. I knew every foot of the 
 ground beyond the forest and through 
 it. The forest on each side of tlie 
 chaussee was open enough for in- 
 fantry, cavalry, and even for artillery, 
 and very defensible. Had I retreated 
 through it, could they have followed 
 me ? The Prussians were on their 
 flank, and would have been on their 
 rear. The co-operation of (he Prus- 
 sians in the operations luuiertooh was 
 jiart of my plan, and I was not deceived. 
 But I never contemplated a retreat on 
 Brussels. Bad I been forced from my 
 position, I should have retreated to my 
 right, towards the coast, the shipping, 
 and my resources. I had placed Hill 
 where he could have lent me important 
 assistance in many contingencies, and 
 that might have been one. And, again, 
 I ask, it' I had retreated on my right, 
 would Napoleon have ventured to 
 
 follow me? The Prussians, already 
 on his flank, would have been on his 
 rear. But my plan was to keep my 
 ground till the Prussians appeared, 
 and then to attach the French position ; 
 and I executed my plan.' " 
 
 WELLINGTCNIANA. 
 
 It matters liitle whether it was a 
 pleasing tradition or an historical fact, 
 but it was commonly said that after 
 the Peace which crowned the im- 
 mortal services of the Duke of Wel- 
 lington, that great general, on .seeing 
 fhe playing-lields at Eton, said — 
 there had been won the crowning 
 victory of Waterloo. 
 
 As early as 1825, the Duke of 
 Wellington, in the eyes of rival 
 statesmen, had shown symptoms of 
 breaking down; but as he survived 
 for twenty-seven years, his epithet of 
 "the Iron Duke" was sufficiently 
 justified. A letter from him giving 
 an account of his duel with Lord 
 Winchelsea, is very characteristic. 
 He thought the affair a matter of 
 business, in the interest of the 
 "King's service," and went through 
 it with contemptuous equanimity. 
 
 Colonel Gurwood used to relate 
 these interesting traits of Wellington. 
 He complained that liberties were 
 taken with him. He said, when he 
 went to Court, after William IV.'s 
 death, the Duke of Cambridge said, 
 "Why, Dake, why d'ye have your 
 hair so short ?" Directly after, the 
 Duke of Sussex said, " Why are you 
 not in mourning, Duke ?" The Duke 
 said, "I ordered black, your Royal 
 Highness." " Ah," said' he, " it is 
 not black. It is what the French 
 call tete-de-negre." "The Duke of 
 Manlborough," said the Duke to Gur- 
 wood, " because he was an old man, 
 was treated like an old woman. I 
 won't be. And the reason why I 
 have a right never to have a liberty 
 taken with me, is because I never 
 take a liberty witb any man." Colonel 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 121 
 
 Gurwood said that tlieDulte, although 
 he had known Lord Fitzroy Somerset 
 from a boy, always called him Lord 
 Fitzroy. 
 
 The Duke kept the key of the glass 
 of his Correggio, and when the glass 
 was foul, dusted it himself with his 
 handkerchief. Colonel Gurwood 
 asked liiui once for this key, and he 
 replied, " No, 1 won't." 
 
 The Dake gave 1000'. a-year away 
 because the Government would not 
 put the demands relating to his War- 
 denship of the Giaque Ports on the 
 estimates. 
 
 Gurwood said that in the year when 
 Alexander's house i'ailed, the Duke 
 gave away at least 6000/. One day, 
 he found his Grace sealing up bank- 
 notes, and sending off envelope after 
 envelope, and the Duke said he ought 
 to be as rich as Croesus, and have 
 mines without end. 
 
 "ME RAT HAS GOT INTO THE 
 BOTTLE." 
 
 Such was the Duke of Wellington's 
 favourite saying when people tried 
 to persuade him to do what he had 
 made up his mind not to do. " This 
 not very intelligible expression," says 
 Mr. Tom Taylor, "may refer to aa 
 anecdote I have heard of the Duke's 
 once telling in his later days how the 
 musk-rats in India got into bottles, 
 which ever after retained the odour 
 of musk." " Either the rats must be 
 very small," said a lady who heard 
 him, "or the bottles very large." 
 " On the contrary, madam," was the 
 Duke's reply, " very small bottles, 
 and very large rats." " That is the 
 style of logic we have to deal with at 
 the Horse Guards," whispered Lord 
 . — Nole to Maydoris Memoirs. 
 
 THE VALIANT BUTTON-MAKER. 
 
 Carew, the sculptor, told Haydon 
 the following capital story of the Duke 
 of Wellington : — The Duke was at 
 the Marchioness of Downshire's, and 
 
 the ladies plagued him for some of 
 his stories. For some time he de- 
 clared all his stories were in print. 
 At last, he said, Well, I'll tell you 
 one that has not been printed. In 
 the middle of the battle of Waterloo, 
 he saw a man in plain clothes, riding 
 about on a cob in the thickest fire. 
 During a temporary lull, the Duke 
 beckoned him, and he rode over. He 
 asked him who he was, and what 
 business he had there. He replied, 
 he was an Englishman accidentally at 
 Brussels, that he had never seen a fight, 
 and wanted to see one. The Duke 
 told him he was in instant danger 
 of his life ; he said, " not more than 
 your Grace," and they parted. But, 
 every now and then the Duke saw the 
 cob-man riding about in the smoke, 
 and at last having nobody to send to 
 a regiment, he again beckoned to this 
 little fellow, and told him to go up 
 to that regiment, and order them to 
 charge — giving him some mark of 
 authority the colonel would recog- 
 nise. Away he galloped, and in a 
 few minutes the Duke saw his order 
 obeyed. The Duke asked him for his 
 card, and found in the evening, when 
 the card fell out of his sash, that he 
 lived at Birmingham, and was a but- 
 ton manufacturer ! When at Bir- 
 mingham, the Duke inquired of the 
 firm, and found he was their traveller, 
 and then in Ireland. When he re- 
 turned, at the Duke's request he 
 called on him in London. The Duke 
 was happy to see him, and said he 
 had a vacancy in the Mint of 800/. 
 a-year, where accounts were wanted. 
 The little cob-man said it would be 
 exactly the thing, and the Duke 
 installed him — much to his Grace's 
 lionour. 
 
 A DEAR PAMPHLET. 
 
 Soon after the death of the Mar- 
 quess Wellesley, at Kingston House, 
 Knightsbridge, in 1842, his lordship's 
 valuable library and effects were dis- 
 
122 
 
 GOOD THIKGS. 
 
 persed by auction. On the day pre- 
 vious to the sale, the Marquess' 
 noble brother, the Duke of Welling- 
 ton, called at Mr. Hatchard's, his 
 bookseller, in Piccadilly, and desired 
 that a person should attend the 
 auction, and purchase for his Grace 
 a certain pamphlet on the Adminis- 
 tration of India, which contained 
 several notes and much supplementary 
 matter in the handwriting of the late 
 Marquess, — no limit being named as 
 to price. The commission was duly 
 attended to, when a sharp competi- 
 tion arose for the lot, the pamphlet, 
 which was eventually knocked down 
 to Mr. Hatchard's assistant at the 
 extraordinary price of 352., although 
 the pamphlet was published at 3s. Qd. 
 On the return of the assistant to 
 Piccadilly, Mr. Hatohard felt uneasy 
 at this great cost ; and early next 
 morning repaired to Apsley House, 
 to see the Duke upon the matter. 
 His Grace received his bookseller, 
 who showed some timidity ; the Duke 
 impatiently inquired for the pamphlet, 
 which Mr. Hatohard, at length, placed 
 in his Grace's hands, expressing great 
 regret at what he thought the indis- 
 cretion of his assistant in bidding so 
 exorbitant a sum for the pamphlet ; 
 his Grace inquired the price, and on 
 Mr. Hatchard replying, the Duke, 
 with evident satisfaction, remarked as 
 to the clerk's conduct, " Well, he did 
 Ms duty ;" an expression which so far 
 relieved Mr. Hatchard of his load of 
 anxiety, that in the fulness of his 
 joy he replied, "God bless your 
 Grace !" 
 
 TALLETEAND, AND THE WHLLESLEy 
 EAMILT. 
 
 Talleyrand, it appears, suggested to 
 Bonaparte, after the battle of Leip- 
 sig, m 1813, the idea of raising the 
 Duke of Wellington to the throne of 
 England ! The details are thus re- 
 lated in Rovigo's Memoirs: — "The 
 Emperor asked him to explain him- 
 
 self, and M. de Talleyrand continued : 
 ' There is in England a family which 
 has acquired a distinction favourable 
 to the encouragement of every kind 
 of ambition. It is natural to suppose 
 that it possesses ambition, or at least, 
 that, by showing a disposition to 
 second its ambition, we may excite in 
 it the desire of elevation; and also, 
 that there are in England a sufficient 
 number of adventurous men to turn 
 the chances of its fortune. At all 
 events, such a proposition could do us 
 no harm. On the contrary, if it were 
 listened to, it might bring about' 
 changes which would soon place us in 
 a state in which we would have little 
 to repair. Another consideration is, 
 that, your allies having failed you, you 
 can now do nothing solid except with 
 new men connected from the begin- 
 ning with the conservation of your 
 system.' The Emperor listened to M. 
 de Talleyrand, but desired him to 
 speak out more plainly, remarking 
 that he was always the same, and 
 that there was no knowing what he 
 would be at. Thus pressed, Talley- 
 rand mentioned the Wellesley family, 
 and said, 'Look at Wellington, who 
 maybe supposed to have something in 
 view. If he submit to live on his 
 reputation, he will soon be for- 
 gotten. He has several examples 
 before his eyes ; and a talent such as 
 his will not be stopped, so long as 
 there is something to be desired.' 
 The Emperor did not adopt these 
 suggestions. He observed, that 
 before helping the ambition of others, 
 it was fit that he should be in a con- 
 dition to make himself respected in 
 his government, and added, that at the 
 present moment he could give his at- 
 tention to nothing else. M. de Tal- 
 leyrand, however, told me, that the 
 Emperor appeared much impressed 
 with what he had stated. He indeed 
 expected that the Emperor woul'd 
 have again spoken to him on the sub- 
 ject." 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 123 
 
 GAUMCK and JOHNSON. 
 
 Mr. Cradock relates that, in the 
 latter part of Ms life, Garriok per- 
 mitted people to tell him what others 
 said of hitn, and often suffered him- 
 self to be annoyed by petty warfare. 
 Every rough remark of Johnson's was 
 sure to reach his ears or his eyes 
 through the public press. " Gar- 
 rick," said Dr. Johnson, "begins to 
 complain of the fatigue of the stage. 
 Sir, a man that bawls turnips all day 
 for his bread does twice as much." 
 Garriok had just cause to retaliate. 
 His story of Dr. Johnson's reciting 
 and writing Irene, with Mrs. Johnson 
 (Tetty) waiting foi: him to come to 
 bed — " sacred to love, to pleasure, and 
 Irene" — and tucking in the bed- 
 dothes by mistake, as he was writing 
 by the bedside, was wonderfully 
 ludicrous. Yet I am convinced they 
 had the greatest regard for each 
 other. 
 
 Nothing hurt Garrick like the cha- 
 racter of Prospero in the Rambler ; 
 and I have reason to think Johnson, 
 when he ifound it was applied, was 
 ever after sorry for it. Dr. Johnson 
 once called upon Mr. Garrick in 
 Southampton-street, and was shown 
 into his study; but, unfortunately, 
 the door being left open, he strayed 
 into an adjoining room, which con- 
 tained all the novels and hghter works 
 which had been presented as elegant 
 tributes to this most admired actor. 
 Johnson read first a bit of one, theni 
 another, and threw all down ; so that 
 before the host arrived the floor was 
 strewed with splendid octavos. 
 Garrick was exceedingly angry at 
 finding Johnson there ; and said, " It 
 was a private cabinet, and no com- 
 pany was admitted there." "But," 
 says Johnson, " I was determined to 
 examine some of your valuables, 
 which I find consist of. three sorts, 
 stuff, trash, andnomense !" — Cradock' s 
 Mterary Memoirs. 
 
 WAUDEEING POETS. 
 
 Wordsworth composed his Lyrical 
 Ballads mostly at Allfoxden, near the 
 Bristol Channel, amid woods, glens, 
 streams, and hills. Here the poet 
 had retired with his sister ; and Cole- 
 ridge was only five miles distant. He, 
 with his wife, and Southey, Lamb, 
 and the two Wedgwoods, occasionally 
 visited Wordsworth in his retirement, 
 whence the whole company used to 
 stroll about the woods, and by the 
 sea, to the great wonder of tlie coun- 
 try people. As they were often out 
 at night, it was supposed they led a 
 dissolute life; -and in Bristol there 
 were scandalous tales of Mrs. Cole- 
 ridge and Miss Wordsworth. At 
 length, Wordsworth was driven from 
 the place by the suspicions which his 
 habits excited; and a renewal of his 
 lease of the Allfoxden house was re- 
 fused by the ignoramus who had the 
 letting of it, on the ground that 
 Wordsworth was a criminal in the 
 disguise of an idler ! One of the 
 villagers said that he had " seen him 
 (W.) wander about at night, and look 
 rather strangely at the moon ; and then 
 he roamed over the hills like a par- 
 tridge." Another testified, he had 
 " heard him mutter as he walked, in 
 some outlandish brogue that nobody 
 could understand." Others took a 
 different view of his habits. One 
 wiseacre confidently said : " I know 
 what he is: we have all met him 
 tramping away towards the sea : would 
 any man in his senses take all that 
 trouble to look at a parcel of water ? 
 I think he carries on a snug business 
 in the smuggling line, and on these 
 journeys is on the look-out for some 
 wet cargo." Another said : " I know 
 he has got a private still in his cellar; 
 for I once passed his house at a little 
 better than a hundred yards' distance, 
 and I could smell the spirits as plain 
 as an ashen fagot at Christmas." But 
 the charge which probably had most 
 weight in those times, was that of one 
 
124 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 who said : " I know that he is a des- 
 perate Freneli Jacobin ; for he is so 
 silent and dark, that no one ever heard 
 him say a word about politics." All 
 this time Wordsworth was meditating 
 his Peter Bell and his Lyrical Ballads, 
 and exalting, in his verse, the very 
 rustics who were daily misunderstand- 
 ing and scandalizing him. 
 
 XS OLD man's memory. 
 
 Samuel Rogers, the banker-poet, 
 who died on December 18th, 1855, 
 aged 96, among many accomplish- 
 ments possessed a most retentive me- 
 mory ; and his sweep of recollections 
 was very wide. 
 
 He remembered when one of the 
 Rebels' heads remained on Temple 
 Bar; when schoolboys chased butter- 
 flies in the fields in cocked hats ; when 
 gentlemen universally wore wigs and 
 swords ; when Ranelagh was in all its 
 glory, and ladies going thither had 
 head-dresses so preposterously high 
 tliat they had to sit on stools placed 
 in the bottom of the coach; when 
 Garrick crowded the theatre, Reynolds 
 crowded the lecture-room, and John- 
 son crowded tlie club. He had heard 
 (Jie Duke of York relate how he and 
 his brother George, when young men, 
 were robbed by footpads on Hay-hill, 
 Berkeley-street ; he had shaken hands 
 with John Wilkes, dined with Lafay- 
 ette, Condorcet, &c. at Paris, before 
 the great revolution began, and been 
 present at Warren Hastings' trial in 
 Westminster Hall ; he had seen Lady 
 Hamilton go through her " attitudes" 
 before the Prince of Wales, and Lord 
 Nelson spin a teetotum with his one 
 hand for the amusement of children. 
 
 Mr. Cunningham noted, a few days 
 after the death of our Poet : " Wheu 
 Rogers made his appearance as a poet, 
 Lord Byron was unborn — and Byron 
 has been dead thirty-one years ! When 
 Percy Bysshe Shelley was born, Rogers 
 was in his 30th year — and Shelley lias 
 been dead nearly thirty-four years ! 
 
 When Keats was bom, The Pleasures 
 of Memory was looked upon as a 
 standard poem — and Keats has been 
 dead thirty-five years ! When tins 
 century commenced, the man who died 
 but yesterday, and in the latter half 
 too of the century, had. already num- 
 bered as many years as Burns and 
 Byron had numbered when they died. 
 Mr. Rogers was born before the fol- 
 lowing English poets : Scott, Soutbey, 
 Wordsworth.Coleridge, Byron, Moore, 
 Campbell, Bloomfield, Cunningliam, 
 Hogg, James Montgomery, Shelley, 
 Keats, Wilson, Tom Hood, Kirke 
 White, Lamb, Joanna Baillie, Felicia 
 Hemans, L. E. L. ; and he outlived 
 them all. 
 
 Huntington's leather bkeeohes. 
 William Huntington, " the Coal- 
 heaver," who, by virtue of his preach- 
 ing, came to ride in his coach and 
 marry the titled widow of a Lord 
 Mayor, was no ordinary man. The 
 remarkable circumstance which oc- 
 curred concerning a certain part of 
 his dress has been told in various 
 books. The old song says — 
 
 A light Keart and a thin pair of breeches 
 Go through the world, mj brave boys ; 
 
 but the latter qualification is better 
 for going through the world on foot 
 than on horseback; so Uncle Toby 
 found it, so did Huntington, who, in 
 this part of his history, must be his 
 own historian: no language but his 
 own can do justice to such a story. 
 
 "Having now," says Huntington, 
 " had my horse for some time, and 
 riding a great deal every week, 1 soon 
 wore my breeches out, as they were 
 not fit to ride in. I hope the reader 
 will excuse my mentioning the word 
 breeches, which I should have avoided, 
 had not this passage of Scripture ob- 
 truded into my mind, just as I had 
 revolved in my own thoughts not to 
 mention this kind providence of God. 
 'And thou shalt make them linen 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 12'5 
 
 breeches to cover tlieir nakedness ; 
 from the loins even unto the tliighs 
 shall they reach. And they shsill be 
 upon Aaron and upon his sons when 
 they come into the tabernacle of the 
 congregation, or when they come near 
 unto the altar to minister in the holy 
 place ; that tliey bear not iniquity and 
 die. It shall be a statute for ever 
 unto him and his seed after him.' 
 Exod. xxviii. 42, 43. By which, and 
 three others, namely, Ezek. xliv. 18 ; 
 Lev. vi. 10 ; and Lev. xiv. 4, I saw 
 that it was no crime to mention the 
 word breeches, nor the way in which 
 God sent them to me ; Aaron and his 
 sons being clothed entirely by Provi- 
 dence ; and as God himself conde- 
 scended to give orders what they 
 should be made of, and how they should 
 be cut. And I believe the same God 
 ordered mine, as I trust will appear 
 in the following history. 
 
 " The Scripture tells us to call no 
 man master; for one is our master, 
 even Christ. I therefore told my most 
 bountiful and ever-adored Master 
 what I wanted ; and he, who stripped 
 Adam and Eve of their fig-leaved 
 aprons, and made coats of skin, and 
 clothed them ; and who clothes the 
 grass of the field, which to-day is and 
 to-morrow is cast into the oven, must 
 clothe us, or we shall go naked ; and 
 so Israel found it, when God took 
 away his wool and his flax, which he 
 gave to cover their nakedness, and 
 which they prepared for Baal : for 
 which iniquity was their skirts dis- 
 covered, and their heels made bare. 
 Jer. xiii. 22. 
 
 " I often made very free in my 
 prayers with my invaluable Master 
 for this favour; but he still kept me 
 so amazingly poor that I could not 
 get them at any rate. At last I de- 
 termined to go to a friend of mine at 
 Kingston, who is of that branch of 
 business, to bespeak a pair; and to 
 get him to trust me, until my Master 
 sent me the money to pay him. I 
 
 was that day going to London, fully 
 determined to bespeak them, as I rode 
 through the town. However, when I 
 passed the shop, I forgot it ; but 
 when I came to London, I called on 
 Mr. Groucher, a shoemaker in Shep- 
 herd's Market, who told me a parcel 
 was left there for me, but what it was 
 he knew not. I opened it, and behold 
 there was a pair of leather breeches, 
 with a note in them ! the substance 
 of which was, to the best of my re- 
 membrance, as follows : 
 
 " Sir, — I have sent you a pair of 
 breeches, and hope they will fit. I 
 beg your acceptance of them ; and if 
 they want any alteration, leave in a 
 note what the alteration is, and I will 
 call in a few days and alter them. 
 LS. 
 
 " I tried them on, and they fitted 
 as well as if I had been measured for 
 them ; at which I was amazed, having 
 never been measured by any leathei-- 
 breeches maker in Loncion. I wrote 
 an answer to the note to this effect : 
 
 " Sir, — I received your present, and 
 thank you for it. I was going to 
 order a pair of leather breeches to be 
 made, because I did not know till now 
 that my Master had bespoke them of 
 you. They ilt very well, which fully 
 convinces me that the same God, who 
 moved thy heart to give, guided thy 
 hand to cut: because he perfectly 
 knows my size, having clothed me in 
 a miraculous manner for near five 
 years. When you are in trouble. Sir, 
 I hope you will tell my Master of this, 
 and what you have done for me, and 
 he will repay you with honour." 
 
 " This is as near as I am able to 
 relate it, and I added, 
 
 " I cannot make out I. S. unless I 
 put / for Israelite indeed, and S for 
 Sincerity ; because you did not sound 
 a trumpet before you, as the hypo- 
 crites do." 
 
 The plan of purveying for himself 
 by prayer, with the help of hints in 
 the proper place and season, answered 
 
12G 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 so ■well, that Huntington soon ob- 
 tained, by the same means, a new bed, 
 a rug, a pair of new blankets, doe- 
 skin gloves, and a horseman's coat ; 
 and as often as he wanted new clothes, 
 some chosen almoner of the Bank of 
 Paith was found to supply him. His 
 wife was instructed to provide for her 
 own wants by the same easy and ap- 
 proved means : gowns came as they 
 were wanted, hampers of bacon and 
 cheese, now and then a large ham, and 
 now and then a guinea, all which 
 things Huntington called precious 
 answers to prayer. 
 
 BISHO? BLOMMELD's POETITNE. 
 
 The Bishop's fortunes were built up 
 by the munificence of various patrons. 
 He boasted once — though rather mal- 
 a^propos — to a poor clergyman who 
 was grumbling that he never had got 
 a single thing he asked for, " And I 
 never asked for anything I got." But 
 he might have added that he never re- 
 fused anything that was offered him, 
 when, perhaps, a little more severe 
 sense of duty would have counselled 
 some self-abnegation. Quarrington, in 
 Lincolnshire, was held with the curacy 
 of Chesterford, in Cambridgeshire; 
 then with the rectory of Dunton, a 
 queer little pkce in Bucks, with 
 seventy-two inhabitants, where the 
 parish clerk was a female between 
 seventy and eighty, who being unable 
 to read, when she stole the church 
 communion plate, took it to the near- 
 est pawnbroker's, in ignorance that 
 the name of the parish was engraved 
 upon it. Then he held Great and 
 Little Chesterford, with Tuddenham, 
 in Suffolk. When promoted to the 
 rich living of Bishopsgate in 1820, 
 and shortly after to the archdeaconry 
 of Colchester, he still retained Great 
 Chesterford; and when elevated to 
 the (comparatively poor) see of Ches- 
 ter, he retained Bishopsgate. When 
 a rather cross-looking picture of him 
 was paioted on his accession to the 
 
 mitre, he said it might be supposed to 
 be " inscribed, without permission, to 
 the non-resident clergy of the diocese 
 of Chester." After making all allow- 
 ance for the customs of the age, we 
 venture to hope that it was conscience 
 that persuaded him to keep the frown- 
 ing prelate at home for the pi'ivate 
 admonition of the rector of Bishops- 
 gate. — Saturday Review. 
 
 SAVING EIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 While Dr. Blomfield was at Ches- 
 terford, it was the permanent annoy- 
 ance of every Easter Day that a stream 
 of carriages was passing through the 
 village, giving it the appearance, and 
 too much of the reality, of a noisy 
 fair, while conveying the racing men 
 of the day to Newmarket. It was 
 only slowly that the Jockey Club was 
 induced to alter the first day of the 
 meeting to Easter Tuesday. The 
 Duke of York, when applied to on 
 the subject by Bishop Howley, de- 
 clined to alter his practice, but added 
 that, " Though it was true he travelled 
 to the races on Sunday, he always had 
 u, Bible and Prayer-Book in the car- 
 ■tiage !" 
 
 lUVINGIANA. 
 
 The Rev. Edward Irving, the po- 
 pular minister of the National Scotch 
 Church, in London, was, at first, very 
 unsuccessful. His sermons were not 
 liked. He was a most unpopular 
 preacher, and had to wait long before 
 he was recognised. At last Dr. Chal- 
 mers heard him, took a liking to him, 
 and asked him to become his assistant 
 in Glasgow. Even there his eloquence 
 was not relished, and often as he en- 
 tered the church to officiate as minis- 
 ter of the day he had the mortification 
 to see crowds quitting it because 
 " himsel" — that is, Chalmers himself 
 — was not on duty. Though his 
 preaching was not admired, his per- 
 sonal character was held in great 
 esteem, and by force of personal inter- 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 127 
 
 course he drew many to the church 
 who would otherwise have never en- 
 tered it. In one case he managed to 
 inveigle a cobbler who professed infi- 
 delity by talking to him about leather. 
 Irving's father was a tanner, and his 
 acquaintance with leather was of old 
 standing. "What! do _ye ken about 
 leather ?" was the first word from the 
 cobbler that indicated a breach in his 
 impregnable disdain of the clergy. 
 As the discourse advanced the shoe- 
 maker exclaimedj " Od, you're a de- 
 cent kind of fellow ! Do you preach ?" 
 Finally he was induced to go to church, 
 and he defended himself for so doing 
 by pronouncing this opinion on Irving : 
 — " He's a sensible man, yon ; he kens 
 about leather." 
 
 Irving removed to London in the 
 year 1S22, being then thirty years of 
 age. He came at the invitation of 
 the Caledonian Chapel in Hatton- 
 garden, where a small sprinkling of 
 Scotch assembled together. Before 
 he was a year in the metropolis, he 
 who had been so unpopular in Scot- 
 land became aU the rage. Chalmers 
 had described his sermons as like 
 Italian music, fit only for a select 
 audience. Irving came to London 
 full of expectations. Shortly before 
 starting he took a walk with a friend, 
 and in the course of it leapt a gate in 
 the style of his more youthful days. 
 "Dear me, Irving," said his friend, 
 "I did not think you had been so 
 agUe." Irving turned upon him im- 
 mediately : — " Once I read you an 
 essay of mine, and you said, 'Dear 
 me, Irving, I did not think you had 
 been so classical;' another time you 
 heard me preach — 'Dear me, Irving, 
 I did not know you had so much ima- 
 gination.' Now you shall see what 
 great things I will do yet." That he 
 made no name for himself till he left 
 his native country is remarkable, if 
 we take it in connexion with the advice 
 which he subsequently gave to a 
 Scottish clergyman, "'Tell him from 
 
 me it is a great advantage to be out 
 of Scotland for a while. Knox and 
 Melville and almost all the reformers 
 were so." One thing he felt most 
 strongly — the barrenness of Scotch 
 theology. As he was leaving Soot- 
 land he said to his friends, " You are 
 content to go backward and forward 
 on the same route, like this boat," — 
 a boat which was ferrying the party 
 across the Gair-loch, — "but, as for 
 me, I hope yet to go deep into the 
 ocean of truth." 
 
 Irving's London reputation was 
 made by Canning. A little knot of 
 Scotch hearers crowded round him 
 when he first came south — David 
 Wilkie, Allan Cunningham, and 
 others. Among these who should 
 come but Sir James Mackintosh, and 
 he, ever generous in his literary ver- 
 dicts, was delighted. Especially was 
 he delighted with one phrase which 
 Irving let fall, when he spoke of 
 orphans cast upon " the fatherhood of 
 God." One night in the House of 
 Commons he reported the phrase to 
 Canning. The latter was anxious to 
 hear the tartan, and both he and 
 Mackintosh went the following Sun- 
 day to the Caledonian Chapel. A few 
 nights afterwards, from the Treasury 
 Bench, Canning had to rise and to 
 make some remarks on clerical affairs. 
 In the course of his speech he re- 
 ferred to the sermon which he heard 
 from Irving's lips as the most elo- 
 quent that he had ever listened to. 
 That speech was the making of 
 Irving. All the fashion of London 
 flocked to him. His chapel was 
 crowded to overflowing. His powers 
 grew as encouragement increased, and 
 he rose into notoriety as the greatest 
 pulpit orator of the day. He himself 
 ascribed his success to a very simple 
 cause. Other preachers, he said, 
 "prepare for teaching gipsies, for 
 teaching bargemen, for teaching 
 miners, by apprehending their way of 
 conceiving and estimating truth ; and 
 
128 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 why not prepare for teaching imagi- 
 native men, and political men, and 
 legal men, and scientific men, who 
 bear the world in hand ?" Other 
 preachers seemed to take in all its 
 literalness the statement that the 
 Gospel is foolishness, and they ad- 
 dressed themselves, if not to fools, at 
 least to stupid people ; he, taking the 
 Gospel for the wisdom of God, deemed 
 it capable of interesting an educated 
 audience, and he addressed himself to 
 the foremost intellects of his time. 
 
 The excitement which Irving 
 created in London held the throngs 
 together for hours. They were first 
 assembled for hours before he made 
 his appearance, and then they listened 
 to his lofty discourse for hours more. 
 His sermon for the London Missionary 
 Society was three hours long, and he 
 had to take rest twice in tlie middle 
 of it, asking the congregation each 
 time to sing a hymn. "I undertook 
 to open Irviug's new church in Lon- 
 don," says Dr. Chalmers. "The 
 congregation, in their eagerness to 
 obtain seats, had already been assem- 
 bled three hours. Irving said he 
 would assist me by reading a chapter 
 for me. He chose tlie longest in the 
 Bible, and went on for an hour and a 
 half. On another occasion he offered 
 nie the same aid, adding, 'I can be 
 short.' I said, 'How long will it 
 take you ?' ' Only an hour and forty 
 minutes.' " Still Irving drew the 
 crowds. When he went through his 
 native district of Annandale the 
 churches were too small to contain 
 the crowds that gathered to his feet. 
 He preached in the open air ; all the 
 churches around were closed in 
 honour of the event, and pastor and 
 people trudged together to hear this 
 mighty Boanerges, whose voice could 
 be heard half a mile ofp, and whose 
 sentences could be followed at the 
 distance of a quarter of a mile. At 
 Edinburgh, when he preached during 
 the General Assembly a course of 
 
 twelve lectures on the Apocalypse, 
 the hour of his appointment was six 
 in the morning, and fashionable 
 crowds tossed out of bed at five in 
 the May mornings to hear his marvel- 
 lous oratory. _ 
 
 Irving's fame had a sad end, and his 
 fall is chiefly attributed to the inti- 
 macy of his relations with the eccen- 
 tric Henry Drummond, one of the 
 most astute men going, the wealthy 
 banker, the witty member of Parlia- 
 ment. Irving in his loftiest style 
 preaches of righteousness and recon- 
 ciliation. In the course of his high 
 argument he is interrupted again and 
 again by hearers who are moved by 
 the spirit to utter their thoughts. 
 Drummond several times interrupts 
 him with these utterances, of which 
 the following is a sample : — " Ah, be 
 ye warned, be ye warned ! Ya have 
 been warned. The Lord hath pre- 
 pared for you a table, but it is a table 
 in the presence of your enemies. 
 Ah, look ye well to it ! The city 
 shall be builded — ah ! every jot, every 
 piece of tiie edifice. Be faithful each 
 under his load — each under his load ; 
 but see that ye build with one hand, 
 and with a weapon in the other. 
 Look to it — look to it. Ye have been 
 warned. Ah ! Sanballat, Sanballat, 
 Sanballat ; the Horonite, the 
 Moabite, the Ammonite ! Ah ! con- 
 federate, confederate, confederate with 
 the Horonite ; ah ! look ye to it, look 
 ye to it !" Imagine this rant uttered 
 by the member for Surrey. A friend 
 got his ear and incited him to the 
 study of unfulfilled prophecy. That 
 roused his fancy and gave him a taste 
 for novelty. He preached the speedy 
 coming of Christ in the clouds to 
 judge the world. He mingled this 
 with other doctrines as to the nature 
 of the incarnation and as to the ex- 
 tent of the redemption, which were 
 not palatable to the old, rigid Calvin- 
 ists. Finally, as he had been led to 
 look for the manifestation of Christ, 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 129 
 
 so also lie besan to look for the com- 
 ing of the Holy Ghost. His assis- 
 tant, Mr. A.J. Scott, was at this time 
 e^arnestly inquiring into the problem 
 which the Catholic Church has again 
 and again asked itself, and has never 
 fully answered — " Why are there now 
 no miracles? Why is there now 
 wanting the power of the Holy 
 Ghost, which in the first ages of the 
 Church was abundantly manifest?" 
 Scott urged the inquiry with the 
 logical force and power of statement 
 for which he is celebrated, and Irving 
 listened to his assistant with the most 
 anxious attention. But what was in 
 Scott's mind only a doubt and inquiry 
 grew in Irving's mind into a result 
 and a decision. " No," he said, " the 
 <ige of miracles is not past ; the bap- 
 tism of the Holy Ghost is still upon 
 us ; the gift of tongnes has not 
 passed away." And so he encou- 
 raged all the nonsense and excess 
 of foolish men and hysterical wo- 
 men, who pretended to speak under 
 the burden of the Lord, and to 
 heal the sick by the laying-on of 
 hands. Pirst, the Presbytery took 
 him to task ; he resisted their juris- 
 diction, and in this he was sup- 
 ported by his congregation. Then 
 his congregation grew tired and com- 
 plained to the Presbytery, and both 
 together expelled him from his 
 Church. Next, the Presbytery that 
 ordained him deposed him from his 
 office. He went on his way praying, 
 preaching, trusting in his God, never 
 for one moment faltering in his faith. 
 Notwithstanding his sense of failure, 
 there was a sublime calm and content 
 about him — an invincible "trust in 
 the Lord." His death came to all as 
 a sudden blow. His last words were, 
 " If I die, I die unto the Lord. 
 Amen." And, hearing of his death, 
 all who had sternly resisted him 
 before, sought to remember only these 
 words, and to bury in his grave all 
 memory of what was erratic in liis 
 
 brief but brilliant career. He died at 
 the early age of 42. — Saturday Review. 
 
 WILKIE AUD HATDON. 
 
 Wilkie used to relate that when 
 Sir Walter Scott was a child, his 
 mother and family were all dressed 
 one evening to go out. There was a 
 long discussion. Sir Walter remem- 
 bered his mother saying, "No, no, 
 Watty canna understand the great 
 Garrick." Scott used to tell this, and 
 always was indignant atthesupposition. 
 
 He related that in the rebellion of 
 1745, a lady from the Highlands came 
 to his father's house for shelter. She 
 brought a herb in paper, which she 
 put in hot water and boiled, and gave 
 all the family a little, and they were 
 delighted. This was tea — the year it 
 was introduced. 
 
 When a boy, the parishioners com- 
 plained of Master David Wilkie 
 sketching them in church. 
 
 Wilkie was fond of painting cocked 
 hats ; when at Lawrence's funeral, 
 and looking down with all the sem- 
 blance of woe at Cope, the City mar- 
 shal, ho said to Constable, "Just 
 look at that (Cope's) cocked hat. It's 
 grand !" 
 
 On the day after the private view 
 of the Royal Academy exhibition of 
 1806, Haydon read in the News, " A 
 young man by the name of Wilkie, a 
 Scotchman, has a very extraordinary 
 work ;" this waB " The Village Poli- 
 ticians." Haydon was in the clouds, 
 hurried over his breakfast, rushed 
 away, met Jackson, Vifho joined him, 
 and they both bolted into Wilkie's 
 room. Haydon roared out, " Wilkie, 
 my boy, your name's in the paper !" 
 " is it rea— al— ly ?" said David. The 
 puff was read— they huzzaed — and, 
 taking hands, all three danced round 
 the table till they were tired. 
 
 Wilkie having invited his friend, 
 Haydon, to breakfast, the latter went 
 rather earlier than the hour named,' 
 and to his utter astonishment, found 
 
130 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 Wilkie sitting stark naked on llie side 
 of his bed, drawinp; himself by the 
 help of the looking-glass ! " My God ! 
 Wilkie," said Haydon, "where are 
 we to breakfast ?" Without any 
 apology, or attention to this impor- 
 tant question, Wilkie replied, " It's 
 jest copital practice !" 
 
 When William IV. was about to 
 knight Wilkie, his Majesty said to 
 him, "Is your name David ?" "Yes, 
 your Majesty." "Are you sure it is 
 not Saul ?" 
 
 Haydon was deeply distressed by 
 the death of Wilkie in the Bay of 
 Gibraltar ; yet his sorrow is strangely 
 mixed up with other feeling. He 
 writes : " Could one have imagined 
 he would have been flung into the 
 depths of the ocean!" .... "My 
 only regret is that the thirty-nine ' 
 Academicians were not flung after 
 him, as they ought to have been, on 
 the ancient principle of saori doing to 
 the manes of a distinguished man!" 
 ..." Poor fellow ! I wonder what the 
 fish think of him, with their large 
 glassy eyes, in the gurgling deep." 
 
 LONDON SMOKE. 
 
 " Be Gode !" said Fuseli to Haydon, 
 one day, "it's like the smoke of the 
 Israelites making bricks." "It is 
 grander," said Haydon, "for it is the 
 smoke of a people who would have 
 made the Egyptians make bricks for 
 them." "Well done, John Bull," 
 replied Euseli. 
 
 PREDICTIONS BEAIIZED. 
 
 When, in 1807, Haydon dined with 
 Sir George and Lady Beaumont, he 
 met there Humphry Davy, who was 
 very entertaining, and made a remark 
 which turned out a singularly success- 
 ful prophecy ; he said, " Napoleon 
 will certainly come in contact with 
 Russia, by pressing forward in Poland, 
 and there, probably, will begin his 
 destruction." This was said five 
 years before it happened. 
 
 Lord Mulgrave first raised Hay- 
 dou's enthusiasm for the Duke of 
 Wellington by saying, one day, at 
 table, "If you live to see it, he will 
 be a second Marlborough." 
 
 WOTITH OP A PATKON. 
 
 Jackson, the painter, when young, 
 was very idle; yet it was impossible 
 not to like him : his very indolence 
 and lazy habits engaged one. His 
 eternal desire to gossip was wonder- 
 ful. Sooner than not gossip, he would 
 sit down and talk to servants and 
 valets, drink brandy-and-water with 
 them, and perhaps sing a song. He 
 would stand for hours together with 
 one hand in his trousers pocket, 
 chatting about Sir Joshua and Van- 
 dyke, then tell a story in his York- 
 shire way, full of nature and tact, 
 racy and beautiful, and then start off 
 anywhere ; to Vauxhall or Covent 
 Garden, " to study expression and 
 effect." Lord Mulgrave, his jjatron, 
 now discovered that Jackson was be- 
 ginning to be idle ; and at last his 
 carelessness became so apparent, that 
 Lord Mulgrave, in a passion, cut off 
 his income, and threw him on his own 
 resources. This brought Jackson to 
 his senses : he exerted himself, and 
 told Haydon that it had saved Mm ; 
 his independence of character may be 
 dated from that moment ; nor was he 
 so weak but that when he foand him- 
 self deserted, he dared all sorts of 
 things for an honest subsistence, and 
 found himself happier as his own 
 master. 
 
 SIE JOSHUA EEYNOLDS. 
 
 Ottley, who remembered Reynolds, 
 said, the first time he saw Sir Joshua, 
 he showed him a picture of the Con- 
 tinence of Scipio. Ottley said, it put 
 him in mind of Parm'igiano. Sir 
 Joshua seemed angry, for it was stolen 
 from that painter. 
 
 When Sir Joshua Reynolds had 
 finished his portrait, for the town-haU 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 131 
 
 of Plympton, his native place, lie 
 wrote to Sir William Elford, requesting 
 hitn to get it hung in a good situation, 
 which Sir AVilUam attended to by 
 hanging it between two old pictures ; 
 and in liis reply to Sir Joshua he said 
 the bad picture on each side acted as 
 a foil, and set it off to great advan- 
 tage. Sir Joshua was highly diverted, 
 as these very ])ictures were two early 
 ones of his own painting. 
 
 Lord Melbourne once said: "I 
 remember Reynolds. He was a hard- 
 working old dog. When I sat to him, 
 he worked too hard to be happy." 
 Lord Melbourne knew well how to 
 avoid such a mistake ; he took man- 
 kind at their real worth. 
 
 HATDOK IN DirriCULIlES. 
 
 A friend finding a poor author in the 
 Queen's Bench for the third time, and 
 m good spirits, said, " Why, you must 
 like it." So — of Haydon — to what 
 humorous account he turns his diffi- 
 culties. In 1834 he notes : "Directly 
 after the Duke's letter came with its 
 enclosed cheque, an execution was 
 put in for the taxes. I made the 
 man sit for Cassandra's hand, and put 
 on a Persian bracelet. When the 
 broker came for his money, he burst 
 out a laughing. There was the fellow, 
 an old soldier, pointing in the attitude 
 of Cassandra — upright and steady, as 
 if on guard. Lazarus's head was 
 painted just after an arrest : Eucles 
 finished from a man in possession ; 
 the beautiful face in Xenophon in the 
 afternoon, after a morning spent in 
 begging mercy of lawyers ; and now 
 Cassandra's head was finished in 
 agony not to be described, and her 
 hand completed from a broker's 
 man." 
 
 BAKEY PAINTINe HIS ADELPHI 
 PICTUKES. 
 
 When, in 1842, Haydon went to 
 look at Ban-y's pictures in the Great 
 Room of the Society of Arts, Miss 
 
 Corkings, the housekeeper, told him 
 many anecdotes. She was a girl of 
 twelve yeai's old when Barry painted 
 the work : she said his violence was 
 dreadful, his oaths were horrid, and 
 his temper like insanity. She said he 
 carried virtue to a vice. His hatred 
 of obhgation was such he would ac- 
 cept nothing. Wherever he dined, 
 he left Is. 2d. in the plate, and gen- 
 tlemen indulged him. The servants 
 were afraid to go near him ; in summer 
 he came to work at five, and worked 
 till dark, when a lamp was lighted, 
 and he went on etching till eleven at 
 night. She said, when coaxed to talk, 
 his conversation was sublime. She 
 thought the want of early discipline 
 was the cause of his defects. He 
 began liis work in 1780, and was 
 seven years before he concluded it. 
 She remembered Burke and Johnson 
 calling once, but no artist. She 
 really beheved he would have shot 
 any one who had dared. He had tea 
 boiled in a quart-pot and a peimy 
 roll for breakfast ; dined in Porridge 
 Island (St. Martin's); and had milk 
 for supper, which was prepared in the 
 house. 
 
 " There is," says Haydon, " a grasp 
 of mind nowhere else to be found, as 
 Johnson said ; but no colour, no sur- 
 face, beauty, or correct drawing. Still, 
 as the only work of the kind, it is an 
 honour to the country." 
 
 LOBD PALMEESTON AND HAYDON. 
 
 The greatest pleasure Haydon had 
 in painting the great Reform Banquet 
 picture was in boring his sitters. 
 Thus, he tells us : " Lord Palmerston 
 sat. We had a delightful conversa- 
 tion. I stuck it into him well about 
 the Elgin Marbles. I showed him 
 from his own wrist their truth in 
 hands. I proved to him their science 
 in the action of two feet and legs, and 
 he acknowledged he saw the cause of 
 my enthusiasm. Lord Palmerston 
 was sincere in this." 
 k2 
 
132 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 Next day, notes Haydon, "Lord 
 Palmei'stoii sat finally, I bored him 
 on Greek art, wLioh he listened to 
 ■with the most amiable patience. It 
 varied the monotony of sitting, but I 
 fear he thoiight me a nuisance." 
 
 Haydon, with all his boast of inde- 
 pendence, well understood a compli- 
 ment. He was dining at Lord ?al- 
 merston's, and sat next to Lord Hill. 
 Haydon said, " My Lord, I feel great 
 interest in seeing your Lordship, after 
 reading so much alaout you." " Ah !" 
 said Lord Hill, "those days are past." 
 "But," said Haydon, "not forgotten." 
 
 BEADY EETOUT. 
 
 Some great, big Irish counsellor 
 said to Curran, "If you go on so, 
 I'll put you in my pocket." " By 
 God! if you do," said Curran, "you'll 
 have more law in your pocket than 
 ever you had in your head." 
 
 PRUDENT CHOICE. 
 
 At the Polish Ball, in 1835, the 
 Lord Mayor (who squinted), said to 
 Lady Douglas, " Which do you prefer, 
 my Lady, Gog or Magog ?" " Of the 
 </(««," she replied, "your Lordship." 
 
 HISTOalCAL PAINTING. 
 
 One result of Mr. Haydon's un- 
 ceasing agitation of the Government 
 encouragement of high art iu historical 
 painting is, we agree with Mr. Tom 
 Taylor, to be traced in the em- 
 bellishment of the New Houses of 
 Parliament with great events in 
 British history, painted by our first 
 artists. Poor Haydon had terminated 
 life's fitful fever some time before 
 this result had been achieved : how 
 far he individually would have con- 
 tributed to it is not so certain.. He 
 was ever at persons in authority upon 
 this subject ; and jubilant were his 
 hopes in 1834, as he witnessed the 
 burning of the old Houses, of which 
 here are his Notes : " Oct. 16. Good 
 God! I am just returned from the 
 
 terrific burning of the Houses of Par- 
 liament. Mary and I went, in a cab, 
 and drove over the bridge. From the 
 bridge it was sublime. We aliglited, 
 and went into a room of a public-house, 
 which was full. The feeling among 
 the people was extraordinary — ^jokes 
 and radicalism universal. If Ministers 
 had heard the siirewd sense and in- 
 telligence of these drunken remarks I 
 I hurried Mary away. Good God! 
 and are that throne and tapestry gone, 
 with all their associations ! The 
 comfort is there is now a belter prospect 
 of painting a House of Lords. Lord 
 Grey said (some time before) there 
 was no intention of taking the tapestry 
 down — little did he think liow soon it 
 would go." — Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 303. 
 On the 19th of the same month, 
 Haydon bad a great battle with Lord 
 Melbourne on Art, which ended in 
 this almost prophetic appeal on the 
 part of the painter: — "Now, my Lord, 
 Lord Grey said there was no inten- 
 tion of taking; down the tapestry. It's 
 down. A new House must be built. 
 Painting, sculpture, and architecture 
 must be combined. Here's an oppor- 
 tunity that never can occur again. 
 Burke said it would ultimately rest on 
 a minister. Have you no ambition to 
 be that man? He mused, but did not 
 reply. ' For God's sake. Lord Mel- 
 bourne, do not let this slip — for the 
 sake of art — for your own sake — only 
 say you wont forget Art. I'll under- 
 take it for support during the time 
 that I am engaged, because it has 
 been the great object of my life. I 
 have qualified myself for it, and be 
 assured, if high art sinks, as it is 
 sinking, all art will go with it.' No 
 reply. ' Depend on my discretion. 
 Not a word shall pass from me ; only 
 assure me it is not hopeless.' Lord 
 Melbourne glanced up with his fine 
 eye, and looked into me, and said, ' It 
 is not ! There will be only a tempo- 
 rary building till Parliament n.eets. 
 There's time enough.'" However, 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 133 
 
 Hajdon only succeeded in getting 
 from Lord Melbourne, on the 5)th of 
 the next month, tliis chilling informa- 
 tion : " We do not mean to have 
 pictures. We mean to have a building 
 ■with all the simplicity of the ancients." 
 Haycion adds : " I cannot make out 
 Lord Melbourne, but I fear be is as 
 insincere as the rest." This month, 
 Lord Melbourne followed Lord Grey, 
 and with him, for the present, went 
 Haydon's hopes of Slate encourage- 
 ment of high art. 
 
 Early next year (Feb. 1), Haydon 
 called on Lord Melbourne on a Sunday 
 morning, and found him lounging over 
 the Edinburgh Revieto. He began in- 
 stantly, "Why, here are a set of 
 fellows who want public money for 
 scientific purposes, as well as you do 
 for painting ; they are a set of raga- 
 mutfins." " That's the way," said 
 Haydon, "nobody has any right to 
 any public money but those who are 
 brought up to politics. Are not 
 painting and science as much matter 
 of public benefit as political jobbing ? 
 You never look upon us as equals ; 
 but any scamp who trades in politics 
 is looked on as a companion for my 
 Lord." "That is not true"' said 
 Lord Melbourne. " I say it is," said 
 Haydon ; and he then roared with 
 laughter, and rubbed his hands. 
 
 SUCCESS AND PAILUKE. 
 
 Haydon notes : " Ghantrej got a 
 fortune by two children in Lichfield 
 Cathedral. One day, calling on him, 
 I was shown into his work-room, and 
 on a table I saw a design of these 
 very children by Stothard. I could 
 swear to it. 
 
 " A friend of mine was at a lock-up 
 house to be bail for another ; while he 
 was sitting there, in walked Stothard, 
 arrested for a coal-bill of 34/. Thus, 
 here is Chantrey drinking champagne 
 for lunch, with employment for life, 
 and a fortune for his heirs, in conse- 
 quence of old Stothard's genius, while 
 
 the possessor of the powers by which 
 Chantrey rises is arrested by his coal- 
 merchant, and escapes into the Aca- 
 demy as librarian to eke out a living. 
 
 " Homer begged ; Tasso begged in 
 a difi'erent way ; Galileo was racked ; 
 De Witt assassinated — aud all for 
 wishing to improve their species. At 
 the same time, Raffael, Michael An- 
 gelo, Zeuxis, Apelles, Rubens, Rey- 
 nolds, Titian, Shakspeare, were rich 
 and happy. AVhy? Because with their 
 genius they combined practical pru- 
 dence. I believe this is the secret." 
 
 SIMPLICITY. 
 
 Haydon and his son Frank were in 
 a churchyard, watching a sexton dig- 
 ging a grave. "Ah," said Haydon, 
 " Frank, that will be youi's as well as 
 my last home." "But yours first, 
 papa," said Frank. 
 
 HOKOUKABLE NOBILITY. 
 
 Bannister bought at Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds's sale tlie Virgin and Child. 
 He sent it to a sale at a room for 250 
 guineas. Lord E. told the seller he 
 would give 200/. It was agreed to. 
 Lord Egremont afterwards said to 
 Baily, "1 have bought Reynolds's 
 Virgin and Child." " Ah," said 
 Baily, " it was Bannister's picture. 
 You gave 250/." He said nothing, 
 but the same day wrote to Bannister 
 he was ashamed to have offered less, 
 and sent him a cheque for the 50/. 
 owing. 
 
 STOaiES OP A PAGE. 
 
 A large party were dining with Lord 
 Egi-emont at Petworth, among whom 
 
 was Lady L , with a page, a boy 
 
 who held her pocket-handkerchiet, 
 and so forth. The first day this passed 
 off' well. The next, to the astonish- 
 ment of the company, Lord Egremont 
 had a gi-eat tall fellow behind him in 
 a smock frock. In the middle of din- 
 ner Lord E. called out, " Page, give 
 me some bread." All eyes were im- 
 
13'1 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 mediately turned on her Ladyship, 
 and oif went my Lady the next morn- 
 ing. 
 
 This page was one day very imper- 
 tinent to her Ladyship. She vrrote a 
 
 note to Lord L , saying, " Give 
 
 him a box on the ear." The page 
 took the letter, and meeting his Lord- 
 ship's huge Swiss running footman, 
 gave him the note to carry. The 
 fellow took the note to his Lordship, 
 who opened it, and read, " Give the 
 bearer a box on the ear." The bearer 
 was about 7 ft. 2 in. high. 
 
 NOT INFECTIOUS. 
 
 Old Lady Rosslyn was at home. 
 
 Mrs. was announced. When the 
 
 women were bundling off, " Sit still, 
 sit still," said old Lady R., "it is na' 
 catching." 
 
 CUTTING MISTAKE. 
 
 Hoppner was portrait-painter to 
 the Prince of Wales; and one day, 
 M'Mahon having ordered the porter 
 at Carlton House to get the rails re- 
 painted, and to send for the Prince's 
 painter, the man in his ignorance went 
 over to Hoppner. 
 
 When the Prince visited Hoppner 
 one day, he popped suddenly into his 
 gallery, where was his fine portrait of 
 Pitt. "Ah! ah!" said the Prince, 
 " there he is, with his d — d obstinate 
 face." This Haydon had from Las- 
 celles Hoppner, who heard the Prince 
 from an inside room. 
 
 SCOTCH PEECEPTION. 
 
 A Scotchman, after reading Milton 
 through, said," He thought there were 
 just faults on both sides." 
 
 ABCIIC DISCOVERY. 
 
 George Golman, the younger, was 
 dining at Lord Mulgrave's, when, just 
 before joining the ladies, he was loiter- 
 ing about the picture of Lord Mul- 
 grave's brother blocked up in the ice, 
 in the Arctic expedition in which 
 
 Nelson sailed as a middy. Lord Mui- 
 grave holding the lamp, said, " What 
 is that my brother has got hold of';' 
 Is it a boat-hook r"" " No, my Lord," 
 said Colman, in his half- throttled, 
 witty voice, " It's tte North Pole .'" 
 
 A PAINFUL WORD. 
 
 Lord Lowth wrote an excuse to a 
 dinner invitation upon the plea of his 
 having a bad fit of the gout. His 
 friend inquired the next day after his 
 gout. "Gout !" replied his Lordship, 
 "I have had no gout." "Why, what 
 do you mean P" said his friend ; " you 
 yourself made that the excuse for not 
 dining with me." " Oh, now I under- 
 stand," was Lord Lowth's comment ; 
 " but show me the man that can spell 
 rheumatism." 
 
 BACCHANALIAN SONGS. 
 
 Albert Smith had a horror of the 
 set mirth of this class of songs, which 
 he thus satirizes, in a sort of bur- 
 lesque Act of " The Social Parlia- 
 ment," intituled " An Act to amend 
 the Laws relating to the giving of 
 Dinner and Evening Parties :" 
 
 And be it enacted. That at all Dinners, 
 public or private, the class of Songs known 
 as "Bacchanalian" be firmly put down, 
 inasmuch as their usual effect is gloomy 
 and depressing, and not promotive of 
 Festivity; and that the "Soul lij;hting 
 the Beacon of truth in the Eye" be under- 
 stood to mean the flushed Face and empty 
 babbling of incipient Drunkenness; and 
 that "wreathing a Bowl with Flowers" 
 be looked upon as an Absurdity, and as 
 difficult to do as " drowning Care" in it ; 
 and that where there is no Bowl to wreathe, 
 the affair is still more absurd. And that 
 waiters be not rebuked for not knowing 
 how to wreathe a Bowl when told, inas- 
 much as the only example of one existing 
 in that state is the Glass Globe that holds 
 the Gold Fish in the Filter-shop window, 
 just outside Temple Bar. 
 
 TWO GREAT TALKERS. 
 
 Coleridge and Madame de Stael 
 met — such furious talkers ; Coleridge 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 135 
 
 would talk. The next day she was 
 asked how she liked Coleridge. " Por 
 a monologue," said she, "excellent; 
 but as to dialogue — good heavens !" 
 She would have been better pleased if 
 Coleridge had said this of her. From 
 that evening never were two people 
 so likely to hate each other. 
 
 STOCK-DOVES. 
 
 Wordsworth sang a beautiful ad- 
 dress to the stock-dove. He said, 
 once in a wood; Mrs. Wordsworth 
 and a lady were vpalking, when the 
 stock-dove was cooing. A farmer's 
 wife coming by, said to herself, 
 " Oh, I do like stock-doves." Mrs. 
 Wordsworth, in all her enthusiasm 
 for Wordsworth's poetry, took the old 
 woman to her heart; "but," con- 
 tinued the old woman, "some like 
 them in a pie; for my part there's 
 nothing like 'em stewed in onions." 
 
 CONSOLATION. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Douglas, the eccen- 
 tric antiquary, one day lost a black 
 horse out of his orchard. Haydon 
 saidj "Why don't you go to a magis- 
 trate ?" "Ah, my dear fellow," said 
 Douglas, "perhaps God Almighty 
 thinks I have had him long enough." 
 
 A BENEFIT. 
 
 Moore, in his Life of Sheridan, has 
 omitted his treatment of Stoface's 
 widow — the widow of one who had 
 sacrificed his life to Sheridan's inte- 
 rests. Sheridan gave the theatre for 
 a benefit. The house was crowded, 
 of course. Sheridan went to the 
 door-keeper, and manager, and friend, 
 and swept off all the receipts, and the 
 widow never got a shilling ! This was 
 told to Haydon by Prince Hoare, one 
 of Stephen Storace's intimate friends. 
 
 A CEITICAL MISTAKE. 
 
 Some critics are fond of calling a 
 man of sixty "veteran," which is a 
 great mistake ; it is an approach to 
 
 sympathy which is very damaging. 
 Haydon has an excellent remark upon 
 this subject : " Cassandra much liked. 
 One of the papers said the ' Veteran 
 Haydon.' This is the first step to- 
 wards the grave. By-and-by, ' Old 
 Haydon ;' then, ' Poor old Haydon.' " 
 
 AN ECCENTllIC HOST. 
 
 Lady Blessington used to describe 
 Lord Abercorn's conduct at the 
 Priory, at Stanmore, as very strange. 
 She said, it was the most singular 
 place on earth. The moment any Dody 
 became celebrated, they were invited. 
 He had a great delight in seeing 
 handsome women. Everybody hand- 
 some he made Lady Abercorn invite ; 
 and all the guests shot, hunted, rode, 
 or did what they liked, provided they 
 never spoke to Lord Abercorn except 
 at table. If they met him they were 
 to take no notice. At this time, 
 Thaddeiis of Warsaw was making a 
 noise. " Gad !" said Lord Abercorn, 
 " we must have these Porters. Write, 
 my dear Lady Abercorn." She wrote. 
 An answer came from Jane Porter, 
 that they could not afford the expense 
 of travelling. A cheque was sent. 
 They arrived. Lord Abercorn peeped 
 at them as they came through the 
 hall, and running by the private stair- 
 case to Lady Abercorn, exclaimed, 
 " Witches ! my lady. I must be off," 
 and immediately started post,' and 
 remained away till they were gone. 
 
 A EEADY ANSWER. 
 
 One day, a labouring ' bricklayer 
 was called as a witness, in an action, 
 before Cliief-Justice Ellenborougk 
 When he came up to be sworn, his 
 lordship said to nim, "Really, wit- 
 ness, when you have to appear before 
 this court, it is your bounden duty to 
 be more clean and decent in your 
 appearance." "Upon my life," re- 
 plied the witness, "if your lordship 
 comes to that, I'm thinking I'm every 
 bit as well dressed as your lordship.'.^ 
 
136 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 " How do you mean?" said tlie judge, 
 angrily. "Why, faith," said the 
 labourer, "you come here in your 
 working clothes, and I'm come in 
 mine'' 
 
 THE BULING PASSION. 
 
 Loekhart, in his Life of Scott, re- 
 lates that a Mr. A , a master in 
 
 Cliancery, was on his death-bed — a 
 very wealthy man. Some occasion of 
 urgency occurred, in which it was 
 necessary to make an affidavit, and 
 the attorney, missing one or two other 
 masters, whom he inquired after, ven- 
 tured to ask if Mr. would be 
 
 able to receive tlie deposition. The 
 proposal seemed to give him momen- 
 tary strength ; his clerk was sent for, 
 and the oath taken in due form. The 
 Master was lifted up in his bed, and 
 with difficulty subscribed the paper. 
 As he sank down again, he made a 
 signal to his clerk. " Wallace." 
 "Sir?" "Your ear— lower; have 
 yon got the half-crown ?" He was 
 dead before morning. 
 
 A client brought his own brief 
 and fee to Titzgibbon (of the Irish 
 bar), who, on receiving the fee, looked 
 rather discontented. " 1 assure you. 
 counsellor," said the client, mourn- 
 fully, "I am ashamed of its smallness; 
 but, in fact, it is all I have in the 
 world." " Oh, then," said Pitzgibbon, 
 '■ you can do no more ; as it's all you 
 have in the world — why — hem — I 
 must take it." 
 
 HEADING A PLiT. 
 
 Cumberland, the dramatist, wrote 
 a play called Tiberius, which, after 
 being repeatedly refused, he sent to 
 the theatre as a new piece. It was 
 cheerfully received till the title was 
 read, and then immediately returned. 
 Cumberland then wrote to say it was 
 a mistake to suppose it the same 
 Tiberius ; it was no longer a tragedy; 
 and if magic, music, scenery, and 
 dialogue could interest an audience. 
 
 he had greater expectations from this 
 than from any piece he had ever pro- 
 duced. It was the most laboured, 
 the oftenest revised, and the best 
 written of all his works ; the letter 
 concluded with an appeal to posterity. 
 Cumberland invited two fi lends to 
 spend a week at liis country liouse, 
 where the spare living scared the 
 guests ; they grew weary in two or 
 three nights ; and on one day, an- 
 nounced their intention of departing 
 the next. " If so, gentlemen," said 
 the host, " I moan to give you a treat 
 this evening, before you leave me ; 
 and such a treat I But I do not wish 
 to anticipate." This put them in 
 high spirits ; they imagined a couple 
 of fowls, with good old port or Ma- 
 deira, would be served up ; and they 
 had highly whetted their farcies with 
 this supposition. The evening came, 
 and with it the treat. Cumberland 
 approached, with a " Now, gentlemen, 
 you shall have it ; you will find whe- 
 ther I will keep my word. Here it 
 is. I suppose you have heard of it ? 
 Tiberius, i can assure you, the best 
 of all my works." So saying, he spread 
 his manuscript, and began to read. 
 One of the guests, without ceremony, 
 fell fast asleep in the first act. The 
 other guest, witli great difficulty, lis- 
 tened through the second, when the 
 author luckily became tired of his 
 task, either from the labour of read- 
 ing, or the drowsiness of his auditors. 
 — From the Times. 
 
 LADY MOEOAN AND HER PDBLISIIEESw 
 
 How our ancestors, in those distant 
 ages when Lady Morgan could draw 
 at the rate of 2000/. a year from her 
 publisher, got through their reading 
 we have not the most remote concep- 
 tion, but it is a fact that she took 
 successive publishers by storm ; that 
 she couipelted them to give her high 
 prices ; and that they, in self-defence, 
 forced her books on the public. It is 
 curious to see the art by which, when 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 137 
 
 she sot lier foot on the first round of 
 the ladder, she tenaciously held on, and 
 gradually woiked her way upwards to 
 higher and iiigher prices. One of her 
 earliest publishers was Sir Richard 
 Phillips. She flirted with him, and 
 coaxed out of him a considerable 
 sum. He was not a loser by the 
 bargain, for a lady novelist was then a 
 rarer bird than now, and an Irish 
 subject also was less hackneyed. 
 But on the strength of this, when iier 
 next work was ready. Lady Morgan, 
 then Miss Owenson, insisted on a 
 higher price, and played against Sir 
 Richard Phillips a rival publisher of 
 whom he was jealous, until slie got 
 her own terms. Purlher on in her 
 career she bargained with Stockdale, 
 upon whom she brought all her artil- 
 lery to bear. She had to dispose of a 
 book called the Missionary, one of the 
 worst she ever wrote, and the means 
 by which she contrived to enhance the 
 price of it were quite worthy of her 
 talents. It was at that time not un- 
 common for a nobleman to have in his 
 establishment a retainer who occupied 
 very much the position of the ancient 
 clown or jester, and whose business it 
 was to entertain the company with 
 wit or bulfoonery. In these recent 
 times the fashionable jester was ge- 
 nerally a person of literary tastes, 
 perhaps of literary repute ; and Miss 
 Owenson held such a post in the 
 liousehold of the Marquis of Abercorn. 
 There she met Lord Castlereagh, and 
 th e Irish girl so amused the Irish states- 
 man that he took her to town in his 
 chariot, and gave up his study as the 
 meeting-place for her and her pub- 
 lisher. Stockdale was punctual to his 
 appointment, and was naturally im- 
 pressed by the environments, which 
 gave him a liigher opinion of Miss 
 Owenson's genius than he had felt 
 before. The opportunity to drive a 
 good bargain was improved by Miss 
 Owenson, Lord Castlereagh himself 
 standing by while the agreement was 
 
 signed. Poor Stockdale had reason to 
 repent his bargain, for the book fell 
 flat. But the best publisiier Lady 
 Morgan ever had was Colburn. Col- 
 burn was the only one who could 
 afford to pay her 2000/. for one of 
 her works, and he could afford it be- 
 cause he had always more faith in his 
 own advertisements than in the 
 genius of any author. At last, how- 
 ever, she tired even Colburn, and with 
 one touch of the trade he burst the 
 bubble of her fame. One day, finding 
 that Colburn did not too readily grasp 
 at an offer which she made him, she, 
 following her usual trick of playing 
 publisher against publisher, went to 
 Saunders and Otley, who accepted her 
 terms, and issued her work. Then 
 came Colburn's revenge. He adver- 
 tised in great Ctipitals "Lady Morgan 
 at Half Price." Poor Lady Morgan 
 fell dead : nobody cared to read her 
 book ; her publishers had to endure a 
 very heavy loss, and the lady's repu- 
 tation as an authoress sustained a fall 
 from which it never recovered. 
 
 Lady Morgan resided, for several 
 years, at No. 11, William-street, 
 Knightsbridge ; and to her unceasing 
 agitation of the desirableness of a new 
 entrance into Hyde-park, we owe the 
 formation of Albert-gate, her exer- 
 tions for which improvement arc set 
 forth in her Memoirs, Letters, Sfc.^ 
 published at the close of 1863. Lady 
 Morgan died April 13, 1859, in her 
 76th year, bequeathing, as stated in 
 the Times, " a sackful of her scrawls" 
 to be published : hence the origin of 
 the above work, which the 2'imeit 
 reviewer characterizes as " a work 
 which can be read only with dis- 
 gust," sliDwing the career of "the 
 most ancient, the most frivolous, and 
 the most incessant little woman ever 
 known in this country." Her 
 greatest feat remains to be told: 
 " She so wheedled and worried the 
 Whig ministers that in an age of 
 economy and retrenchment they gave 
 
138 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 her a pension of 300^. a year, in. ac- 
 knowledgment of her literary merits. 
 It was the highest scale of reward 
 for literary excellence which it is in 
 the power of the Government to be- 
 stow !" We are not altogether sur- 
 prised at this abuse of the public 
 money, because Lady Morgan was 
 ever a reckless Whig-Eadical par- 
 tisan : it is more remarkable that some 
 thirty years after the extinction of 
 her literary fame there should be 
 attempts made to resuscitate a re- 
 putation which had better been left 
 to its own inanity. 
 
 A POLITICAL BESEFIT. 
 
 " When do you sketch O'Gonnell ?" 
 said one of Lord Plunkett's daughters 
 to Haydon, the painter. "There is 
 one thing," said Lord Plunkett ; " if 
 you comd take his head entirely 
 off, you would do great good to 
 society." 
 
 ME. COKE AND lOX. 
 
 Mr. Coke told Haydon, the first 
 time Fox came to power, he dined 
 with him. He went on talking 
 before the servants. After they were 
 gone, some one said, "Fox, how 
 can you go on so before the ser- 
 vants ?" " Why the devil," said Fox, 
 " should they not know as much as 
 myself?" 
 
 Mr. Coke said he remembered a 
 fox killed in Cavendish-square; and 
 that where Berkeley-square now 
 stands was an excellent place for 
 snipes. 
 
 Fox was as fond of shooting as a 
 schoolboy. He went out one morn- 
 ing. It came on to rain. Fox stood 
 under some firs, with a gamekeeper, 
 who was a great talker. All the day 
 it rained incessantly. As the ladies 
 were waiting dinner, in came Fox. 
 " Where have you been, Charles ?" 
 said Mr. Coke. "Why, talking to 
 T.hat fellow all day. There is hardly a 
 
 man I could not get something from if 
 he talks," said Fox. 
 
 When Burke was dying, Fox went 
 down to see him ; but Burke would 
 not see Fox. When he came back, 
 Mr. Coke was lamenting Burke's ob- 
 stinacy. "Ah," said Fox, "never 
 mind, Tom ; I always find every Irish- 
 man has got a piece of potato in his 
 head." 
 
 A SOLDIER OF FOKTUNE. 
 
 The origin of Godoy, "Prince of 
 Peace," who, towards the close of the 
 last century, took so prominent a part 
 in the affairs of Spam, and brought 
 about a career of ruin and misfortune, 
 was briefly as follows. A private 
 soldier, about twenty-five years of 
 age, in the Walloon Guards, having 
 mounted guard one day in the gardens 
 of the Bscurial, near the Queen's 
 window, her Majesty thought him 
 very handsome, and ordered him to be 
 advanced to the rank of lieutenant ; 
 he was then desired to attend in her 
 apartments, when he saw and con- 
 versed with her Majesty. After some 
 time, this soldier one day told his 
 benefactress that he had a brother, and 
 requested that he miglit be admitted 
 into the ranks of the regiment. The 
 Queen immediately ordered that the 
 brother should be made lieutenant, and 
 he a portege or captain. Unfortu- 
 nately for the captain, he requested 
 the honour of introducing his brother 
 to the Queen, who found him hand- 
 somer than himself; from which time 
 the captain disappeared, and the lieu- 
 tenant, now " Prince of Peace," rose 
 rapidly to distinction, and succeeded 
 Count Aranda in the Spanish ad- 
 ministration; but in the war with 
 France, commenced in 1793, Godoy, 
 wishing to conduct the operations from 
 his palace, ruined all, and he was 
 obliged to conclude the discreditable 
 peace of Basle, by which half of St. 
 Domingo was resigned to France. 
 The old and haughty nobility of Spain 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 139 
 
 were amazingly mortified and dis- 
 pleased by the sudden and great rise of 
 Godoy to a rank superior to any of 
 their order ; and the more so, that the 
 abilities of the man had not ■warranted 
 so extraordinary a promotion. 
 
 GEORGE lY. AKD HIS QTJEEN. 
 
 Immediately after the death of 
 George III., Queen Caroline, although 
 with more than suspicion hanging over 
 her head, hastened to England to 
 claim her right to the throne of a man 
 who could hai'dly be considered her 
 husband. His estrangement frmn her, 
 the aversion he had manifested from 
 the first moment of their ill-assorted 
 marriage, was the only excuse the un- 
 fortunate woman could plead for her 
 errors. The announcement of her 
 journey to England and the news of 
 her demands for a regal reception 
 caused a great sensation. " Great 
 bets," says Lord Eldon, "are laid 
 about it. Some people have taken 
 50 guineas, undertaking in lieu of 
 them to pay a guinea a day tQl she 
 comes." 50,000/. a year were offered 
 if she would consent to play the 
 Queen of England at some continental 
 court. She in her turn demanded a 
 palace in London, a frigate, and the 
 restoration of her name to the Church 
 service. Nothing short of the prayers 
 of the faithful would satisfy her 
 craving for worldly distinction. Mr, 
 Wilberforce, with characteristic in- 
 dulgence, admired her for her spirit, 
 though he feared she had been " very 
 profligate." Her arrival in London 
 was the signal for a popular ovation, 
 " more out of hatred to the king than 
 out of regard for her." Eor many 
 weeks the stout lady in the hat and 
 feathers was the favourite of the 
 populace, and Alderman Wood's house 
 in South Audley-street, where she 
 had taken up her quarters, was at all 
 hours of the day surrounded by a mob 
 of noisy king-haters. Mr. Wilberforce, 
 in a letter to Hannah More, recounts 
 
 their proceedings : " A most shabby 
 assemblage of quite the lowest of the 
 people, who every now and then kept 
 calhng out, ' Queen! Qneen!' and seve- 
 ral times, once in about a quarter of an 
 hour, she came out of one window of 
 a balcony and Alderman Wood at the 
 other." At which the crowd cheered 
 prodigiously. When her trial was 
 decided upon, this misguided woman, 
 determined to brazen it out at all 
 hazards, threatened to come daily to 
 Westminster Hall in " a coach and 
 six in high style," and she also insisted 
 on being present at the coronation. 
 " She has written to the king," says 
 Mr. Th. GrenvUle, " when and in what 
 dress she should appear at the corona- 
 tion. I presume the answer will be : 
 in a white sheet, in the middle aisle 
 of the Abbey." 
 
 The strictest orders were given for 
 her exclusion, but still she came, and 
 among the extraordinai'y and dis- 
 graceful scenes of the time is that of 
 a Qneen of England "trying every 
 door of the Abbey and the Hall," and 
 at length withdrew. 
 
 "It is worthy of remark that no 
 Diary or Journal published since 1821 
 throws any new light upon the ques- 
 tion of the gi lilt or the innocence of the 
 Queen ; but it is significant that Lord 
 Grenville, who had exculpated her in 
 1806 upon the occasion of the Delicate 
 Investigation, seems to have liad no 
 doubt as to her raiscondnot in 1821, 
 and both voted and spoke against her 
 on the second reading of the Bill. 
 This is not the place to discuss a nasty 
 personal subject, with regard to which, 
 we suppose, most historians will not 
 differ ; but whatever may have been 
 the sins of Caroline of Brunswick, the 
 behaviour of George IV. towards her 
 had been of such a kind that, in our 
 judgment, political considerations 
 alone can account for the support 
 which the majority of the House of 
 Lords afforded him at the trial. In 
 fact; it is evident from many sources. 
 
140 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 that tlie real issue in tlie case was 
 lost siglit of by all parties ; and if it 
 may be laid to tlie charfte of the people 
 that they backed the Queen solely in 
 the interest of revolution, it is equally 
 certain that the mass of the aristocracy 
 who sided with the Kin;^ only did so 
 because they thought that the consti- 
 tution was in danger. As regards tlie 
 chief actors in the nauseous business, 
 neither the flaunting virago of Bran- 
 denburg House nor tlie bloated sen- 
 sualist of St. James's can challenge 
 any respect or sympathy ; and, on the 
 whole, a just posterity will refuse to 
 strike the balance of wrongs between 
 the shameless mistress of Bergaiiii 
 and the perjured betrayer of Mrs. 
 Pitzherbert, the criminal author of a 
 dozen seductions, the systematic 
 breaker of every social and moral en- 
 gagement, who proclaimed liimself an 
 injured husband; and, with the cant 
 of decency and religion in his mouth, 
 sought to blast the name of the wife 
 he had abandoned for the mere pur- 
 poseof selfish vindictiveness." — Satur- 
 day Renew. 
 
 DOING HOMAGE. 
 
 At the coronation of George IV., 
 when the bishops were kissing the 
 Xing, and doing homage, and the music 
 was roaring, the Bishop of Oxford 
 (whom they used to call Mother Some- 
 body) approached and kissed the King. 
 The King said, " Thankee, my dear." 
 
 CONTEMPT OE COUET. 
 
 C told Haydon the whole story 
 
 of his committal. He ran away with 
 a ward in Chancery. Lord Eldou 
 said, "It was a shame men of low 
 family should thus entrap ladies of 
 
 birth." "My Lord," said C , 
 
 "my family are ancient, and were 
 neither coalheavers nor coallieavers' 
 nephews," in allusion to Lord Eldon's 
 origin, — for which Eldon committed 
 him. livery apology was offered, but 
 Eldon never forgave it. On Lord 
 
 Brougham's accession, he petitioned, 
 and by a special order was discharged. 
 
 BIKMINGHAM TUADES-UNIOXISTS. 
 
 When, in 1832, Haydon set about 
 painting the New Hall Hill Meeting, 
 at Biriiiingham, he was brought lu 
 contact with the leaders of the move- 
 ment there ; and his account of it 
 contains some rather curious dis- 
 closures, showing how near, in the 
 opinion of those leaders, matters then 
 were to revolution. Mr. Parkes told 
 Haydon that warrants were made out 
 against the whole of the Union, and 
 that if Wellington had succeeded, 
 they would all have been taken u|i, 
 and then the people would have fouglit 
 it out. 
 
 Attwood, the leader, in one of his 
 first speeches, said to the people : 
 " Suppose, my friends, we had. two 
 millions of threads ; suppose we 
 wound these two millions of threads 
 into a good strong cord ; suppose we 
 twisted that cord into a good strong 
 rope; suppose we twisted that rope 
 into a mighty cable, with a hook at 
 the end of it, and put it into the nose 
 of the borough-mongers, d'ye think 
 we should not drag the Leviathan to 
 shore 'i" (Immense cheers.J 
 
 Attwood also said : " Al ter poverty, 
 there is nothing so much liated as in- 
 dependence. We are become a na- 
 tion of petty, paltry corporations, and 
 love of wealth." He told Lord Mel- 
 bourne, "If the people do not get 
 their belly full after this, I shall be 
 torn to pieces." "And so much the 
 better. You deserve it," said Lord 
 Melbourne. "Yes, my Lord," said 
 Attwood; "but they will begin with 
 you. I do not despond of seeing you 
 all tried for your conduct, Commons 
 and all." 
 
 He said Lord Grey asked him what 
 lie thought would be the end of these 
 unions. He replied, as people got 
 prosperous and satistted, they would 
 die away. " I am much inclined to 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 141 
 
 be of your opinion," said Lord 
 Grey. 
 
 lie said one of the Ministers (Lord 
 Durham) told him they owed their 
 places to the Birmingham Union. 
 
 Haydon, in conversation, found the 
 influence of the leaders of this Union 
 was not from temporary causes, but 
 connected wilh their predictions on 
 finance — that they had predicted all 
 the ruin which had taken place to 
 Ministers, and thus gained the confi- 
 dence of the people, and led the way 
 to the establishment of a body which 
 should take the lead. 
 
 Jones, another leader, when the 
 tax-gatherer called, said to him, "If 
 you dare, sir, to call again, I will have 
 you nailed by the ear at my door, 
 with a placard on your breast, saying 
 who you are." 
 
 The cause of the strong repubhcan 
 feeling at Birmingham was its con- 
 nexion with America. 
 
 MINISTEKS B.ESIGNING. 
 
 This is not lialf so serious a matter 
 as many persons imagine: Ministers 
 are generally so worried and badgered 
 before they resign, that they are glad 
 to set out of harness; just as hunted 
 debtors formerly found a happy haven 
 in a prison. 
 
 When, in May, 1833, the Lord- 
 
 Advocate (Jeffrey) called upon Lord 
 Althorp to ask what he should do 
 about his resignation, his reception 
 was as follows. Lord Althorp's secre- 
 tary could not give liim any informa- 
 tion, and Lord A. desired he would 
 walk upstairs. Up Jeffrey walked. 
 Lord A. had just done washing, and 
 one arm was bare above the elbow, 
 and rather hairy. His razor was in 
 the other, and he was about to shave. 
 " Well, Mr. Advocate," said his Lord- 
 ship, " I have the pleasure to inform 
 you that we are no longer His Ma- 
 jesty's Ministers. We sent in our 
 resignations, and they are accepted." 
 When they returned, Jeffrey called 
 again. Lord A. was looking over his 
 fowling-piece, and said to Jeffrey, 
 " Confound these political affairs ; all 
 my locks are got out of order," in his 
 usual grumbling, lazy way. This 
 graphic account is told by Haydon, 
 who received it from Lord Jeffrey. 
 
 We can add, that just at the same 
 time, late in the evening a carriage 
 rattled up to the door of Lord Mel- 
 bourne's house, in South-street : the 
 door was opened, and out leaped Lord 
 Chancellor Brougham. The door of 
 Lord Melbourne's dining-room was 
 scarcely opened to Lord Brougham, 
 when he blurted out, "Well, Mel- 
 bourne, we must go out." 
 
 Miscellanea. 
 
 LORD CHESTEEriELD's WILL. 
 
 When Lord Chesterfield bought, 
 of the Dean and Chapter of West- 
 minster, the ground upon which he 
 built Stanhope-street and Chester- 
 field House, he is said to have had 
 a hard bargain : he certainly thought 
 so from the following clause in his 
 will : — " In case my said godson. 
 
 Philip Stanhope, shall, at any time 
 hereafter, keep, or be concerned in 
 keeping of, any racehorses, or pack 
 of hounds, or reside one night at 
 Newmarket, that infamous seminary 
 of iniquity and ill-manners, during the 
 course of the races there; or'shall 
 resort to the said races ; or shall lose 
 in any one day, at any game or bet 
 whatsoever, the sum of 500/.; then 
 
142 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 iu any of the cases aforesaid, it is my 
 express will tliat he, my godson, shall 
 forfeit and pay out of my estate the 
 sum of 5000/. to and for the use of 
 the Dean and Chapter of Westmin- 
 ster." " The last sentence (says Lord 
 Mahon) contains a lively touch of sa- 
 tire. The Earl found, or believed that 
 he found, the Chapter of Westminster 
 of that day exorbitant and grasping 
 in their negotiation with him of land 
 for the building of Chesterfield House 
 [the houses in Stanhope-street adjoin- 
 ing]; and he declared that he now 
 inserted their names in his ' Will,' 
 because he felt sure that if the penalty 
 should be incurred, they would not be 
 remiss in claiming it." 
 
 Lord Chesterfield died in 1773, in 
 Chesterfield House, desiring, by Will, 
 that his remains miglit be buried in 
 the next burying-place to the place 
 where he should die, and that the ex- 
 pense of his funeral might not exceed 
 100/. He was, accordingly, interred 
 in Grosvenor Chapel, South Audley- 
 street ; but his remains were after- 
 Wards removed to Shelford, in Not- 
 tinghamshire. 
 
 THE STRONG LADT OF MAY PAIK. 
 
 One of the marvels of May Fair, 
 in its latest revival, was the perform- 
 ance of a Strong Woman, the wife of 
 a Frenchman, exhibited in a house in 
 Sun-court, Shepherd's Market. The 
 following account is given by John 
 Carter,the antiquary,and may be relied 
 on, as Carter was born and passed his 
 youthful days iu Piccadilly- [Carter's 
 Statuaij.] He tells us that a black- 
 smith's anvil being procured from 
 White-Horse-street, with three of the 
 men, they brought it up, and placed 
 it on the floor of the exhibition-room. 
 The woman was short, but most beau- 
 tifully and delicately formed, and of a 
 most lovely countenance. She first 
 let down her hair, (a light auburn,) of 
 a length defcending to her knees, 
 which she twisted round the project- 
 
 ing part of the anvil, and then, willi 
 seeming ease, lifted the ponderous 
 mass some inches from tlie floor. 
 After this a bed was placed in tlie 
 middle of the room ; when, reclining 
 on her back, and uncovering her 
 bosom, the husband ordered the smiths 
 to place thereon the anvil, and forge 
 upon it a horseshoe! This they 
 obeyed: by taking from the fire a 
 red-hot piece of iron, and with their 
 forging-hamraers completing the shoe 
 .with the same might and indifference 
 as when in the shop at their constant 
 labour. The prostrate fair one seemed 
 to endure this with the greatest com- 
 posure, talking and singing during the 
 whole process : then, with an effort, 
 which to the bystanders appeared su- 
 pernatural, she cast the anvil from off 
 her body, jumping up at the same 
 moment with extreme gaiety, and 
 without the least discomposure of her 
 dress or person. That there was no 
 trick or collusion was obvious from 
 the evidence: the spectators stood 
 about the room vvith Carter's family 
 and friends; the smiths were stran- 
 gers to the Frenchman, but known to 
 Carter, the narrator. Slie next placed 
 her naked feet on a red-hot salaman- 
 der, without injury, the wonder of 
 which was, however, understood even 
 at that time. 
 
 Duck-hunting was a late May Fair 
 sport, kept up by the butchers of 
 Shepherd's Mark'et. There was, 
 within memory, partly on the site of 
 Hertford-street, an old wooden pub- 
 lie-house, one of the original signs of 
 " Tlie Dog and Duck," in the rear of 
 which was a sheet of water, surrounded 
 by a gravel-walk, boarded up knee- 
 high, and shaded all round with 
 willows. 
 
 Duck-hunting was held in such high 
 reputation in the reign of Charles IL, 
 that he, and many of his prime no- 
 bility, often witnessed it, and with the 
 dogs, partook of the entertainment. 
 In Mrs. Behn's play of Sir Patient 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 143 
 
 Taney, a Sir Credulous Easy talks 
 about a cobbler, his dog-tutor, and 
 Lis expectation of soon becoming 
 " tlie Duke of Ducking-Pond." 
 
 ' COBNEB, MEMOKT THOMPSON. 
 
 In February, 18i3, there died, at 
 the age of 86, this remarkable person, 
 whose eccentric success had become 
 matter of public interest. John 
 Thompson was a native of St. Giles's, 
 where his father was a greengrocer : 
 the boy on carrying a salad to the 
 house of an undertaker in the neigh- 
 bourhood attracted attention by his 
 ready and active manner, and the un- 
 dertaker took him as errand-boy ; then 
 he became assistant, and next married 
 his master's daughter, and thus ob- 
 tained property. This was his start 
 in life, and enabled him to commence 
 business as an auctioneer and brewer's 
 valuer, by which he amassed great 
 wealth. As he advanced in life, he 
 sought retirement, and on a spot j nst 
 below Hampstead Church, built for 
 himself, witliout plan or order, "Prog- 
 nal Priory," an assemblage of gro- 
 tesque structures, but without any 
 right of road to it, which he had to 
 purchase at a great price. Thence, 
 Thompson often went to town in his 
 chariot, to collect curiosities forProg- 
 nal Priory, and these, for a time, he 
 would show to any person who rang 
 at his gate. He was designated 
 "Comer Memory" from his having, 
 for a bet, drawn a plan of St. Giles's 
 parish from memory, at three sittings, 
 specifying every coach-turning, stable- 
 yard, and public pump, and likewise 
 ihe corner ihop of every street. He 
 possessed a most mechanical memory; 
 for he would, by reading a newspaper 
 over-night, repeat the whole of it next 
 morning. He gained some notoriety 
 by presenting to the Queen a carved 
 bedstead, reputed once to have be- 
 longed to Cardinal Wolsey ; with this 
 he sent some other ancient furniture, 
 
 and the whole is now in an apartment 
 of Windsor Castle. 
 
 A BEPOBMED HIGHWAYMAN. 
 
 In the year 1800, a servant of 
 the Hev. iilowland Hill died, when 
 his master preached his funeral 
 sermon to a numerous audience, 
 and iu his discourse related the fol- 
 lowing anecdote : — " Many persons 
 present were acquainted with the 
 deceased, and have had it in their 
 power to observe his character and 
 conduct. They can bear witness that 
 I speak the truth when I assert, that 
 for a considerable number of years 
 past he has proved himself a perfectly 
 sober, honest, industrious, and reli- 
 gious man; faithfully performing, as 
 far as lay in his power, the duties of 
 his station in life, and serving God 
 with constancy and zeal ; and yet this 
 very man, this virtuous and pious 
 man, was once a robber on the high- 
 way. More than thirty years ago he 
 stopped me on the public highroad, 
 and demanded my money. Not at 
 all intimidated, I argued with him. 
 I asked him what could induce him 
 to pursue so iniquitous and dangerous 
 a course of life ? ' I have been a 
 coachman, sir,' said he, 'but am now 
 out of place, and not being able to 
 get a character can obtain no employ- 
 ment, and am therefore obliged to 
 resort to this means of gaining sub- 
 sistence.' I desired him to call upon 
 me ; he promised me he would ; and 
 kept his word. I talked further with 
 him, and offered to take him into my 
 service. He consented, and ever 
 since that period he has served me 
 faithfully, and not me only, but he 
 has faithfully served his God. And 
 instead of finishing his life in a public 
 ignominious manner, with a depraved, 
 and hardened mind, as he jirobably 
 would soon have done, he has died in 
 peace, rejoicing in hope, and prepared, 
 we trust, for the society of just men 
 made perfect. Till this day this ex- 
 
lli 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 E 
 
 traordinavy occurrence has been coii- 
 ficed to his breast and mine ; I have 
 never iiicntioned it even to my dearest 
 friend." 
 
 NOTED STAGE-COACHMEN. 
 
 AThen coacli-proprietors were as 
 great men as railroad-contractors are 
 now, when Richard Ironmonger re- 
 resented Staffoid and William Chap- 
 in sat for Salisbury in Parliament, 
 their principal whips were not unfre- 
 qucntly the first cousins and younger 
 brothers of the landowners through 
 whose parks they galloped their foam- 
 ing teams. Probeu, tlie handsome 
 fellow who for years drove the Read- 
 ing coach, was a retired army captain, 
 and only quilted the road in order 
 that he might enjoy an estate in 
 Gloucestershire which he liad inhe- 
 rited. In the same way, Dennis, nho 
 finished his career on the Norwich 
 road, was a clergyman, and gave up a 
 Berkshire vicarage, when he mounted 
 the box of tlie Bath White Hart. 
 Indeed, the earninus of a coachman 
 were sufficient to attract a superior 
 class of men. A popular whip on a 
 good road had no difficulty in making 
 from two to four guineas a-day. Such 
 terms offered strong temptations to 
 gentlemen under a cloud, who had 
 acquired the mystery from members 
 of the B. D. C. (Bedford Driving 
 Club) or the Bang Up, whose splendid 
 equipages, often to the number of 
 thirty, used every Sunday afternoon 
 to block up Cavendish-square before 
 making progress round Hyde Park, 
 to the intense delight of the hurrah- 
 ing multitude. Tlie consequence was 
 that a paid coachman was sometimes 
 the best-born, best-bred, and best- 
 educated man on the outside of his 
 crowded coach. Of course such an 
 one found " the jirofession" especially 
 lucrative. In addition to the custo- 
 mary fee which travellers, without 
 regard to their means or sympathies, 
 were compelled to pay, a man of cul- 
 
 ture, capable of whiling away the 
 tedium of the journey with entertain- 
 ing gossip, often received a consider- 
 able honorarium. A county magnate, 
 after travelling from London to 
 Hampshire, felt constrained to slip 
 gold into the hand of the Jehu who 
 had treated him with a quotation from 
 Horace, and had throughout the 
 period of transit agreed with iiim in 
 politics. 
 
 Of this superior class of coachmen, 
 Tom Cross, twenty years since a 
 popular character on the London and 
 Norfolk Road, was an excellent spe- 
 cimen. The son of a wealthy coach- 
 proprietor, Tom was bom towards 
 the close of the last century, and re- 
 ceived the education of a good clas- 
 sical school. Ho came to London, 
 and saw life as young gentlemen of 
 good prospects were accustomed to 
 see life in the days of the Regency. 
 Reflecting on this portion of his 
 career, he says, with a vanity pardon- 
 able in the ex-coachman, — " Indeed, 
 my acquaintance became so general, 
 that I may here boast of having en- 
 tertained the heirs of earldoms and 
 dukedoms at my table." He was 
 present when the two Grand- Dukes 
 of Russia, the brothers of the Empe- 
 ror Alexander, were entertained with 
 a cock-fight at the Royal Cock-pit, 
 Westminster. Whilst shooting in 
 Dorsetshire he was so fortunate as 
 to see the famous Lord Eldon fire at 
 a fine cock pheasant and miss it. 
 
 His father's speculations failed, 
 when he took to " the coaching busi- 
 ness." Making his deliut ou the 
 Portsmouth Rocket, he became a 
 coachman, and so continued, until the 
 road, as an institution, ceased to exist. 
 In 1845, he drew up a petition to 
 Parliament, praying that some public 
 provision might be made to prevent 
 him and his family "from coming to 
 the extreme of misery," through the 
 general adoption of railways. This 
 humble petition was presented in the 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 145 
 
 session of "1846, by Lord Jocelyn; of 
 course, nothing but formal notice was 
 taken of it. On liis occupation of 
 dragsraan leaving him, Mr. Gross 
 turned poet and lecturer ; and became 
 known to most Cambridge men as an 
 eccentric and well-intentioned old 
 man. He lias written the story of 
 his life, to which the Athenaeum awards 
 this character : " We cannot say 
 that it is either very instructive 
 or very entertaining ; but a genuine 
 Autobiography of a Coachman de- 
 mands attention as a curiosity, though 
 it may not deserve praise as a work 
 of art." 
 
 EAKLY COMPANIO:SS OP GEOKGE IV. 
 
 The Marquis of Hastings was cer- 
 tainly the steadiest of his Majesty's 
 friends; but he was an improvident 
 man, and therefore ill calculated to be 
 the adviser of the Prince. He was 
 continually in debt, and taking up 
 money upon post-obits, and other 
 securities, at enormous rates. His 
 servants, of whom he kept a large 
 number, lived riotously, and drank the 
 dearest wines at their master's ex- 
 pense. He also had a number of 
 pensioners, most of whom were blood- 
 suckers. One of these was Pelix 
 MCarthy, an Irish adventurer, who 
 once absented himself longer than 
 usual from St. James's-place, on which 
 his Lordship sent to know what was 
 the reason. Felix returned an old 
 pair of shoes, worn out at toe and 
 heel — asking " whether those were fit 
 for him to enter his Lordsliip's house 
 in ?" 
 
 Among the early associates of the 
 Prince was George Hanger, afterwards 
 Lord Coleraine — a man of the most 
 eccentric character, not destitute of 
 talent, but of dissipated habits, and 
 fond of low company. In his latter 
 years, he resided in a small cottage in 
 or near the Hampstead-road ; but 
 though he ordinarily spent his even- 
 ings at an ale-house, he was not an 
 
 unfrequent visitor at the palace. A 
 short time before the regency, the 
 Prince laughingly said : " George, in 
 all the years we have been acquainted, 
 you never asked me to dine witli you 
 — now, I should like to do so for 
 once." "Sir," said George, "if you 
 will dine as I do, no person will be 
 more welcome — only fix your time that 
 I may be prepared." The Prince 
 mentioned his day, and was punctual. 
 There was little sign of cookery ; but 
 at last the cloth was laid by the female 
 servant, and a baked shoulder of mut- 
 ton, with potatoes, constituted the 
 whole meal, to which was added simple 
 porter; but whether any wine followed, 
 the writer, who heard the story from 
 Hanger himself, could not recollect. 
 The Colonel succeeded to the title of 
 Coleraine in 1814, on the death of his- 
 brother; but a greater affront could 
 not be offered him than to address 
 him in word or writing as " Mv Lord." 
 He always wore a silk handkerchief 
 round his neck, and a short club-stiok 
 under his arm. He died in 1817, at 
 the age of seventy- three, having been 
 for some years discarded from the 
 Prince's parties, on account of his low 
 propensities. 
 
 Another of the convivial compa- 
 nions of the Prince, was Henry Bate 
 Dudley, commonly called " the fighting 
 parson." His name was originally 
 Bate, to which in 1784, he added that 
 of Dudley. He succeeded his father 
 in the rectory of North Farmbridge, 
 in Essex, but never resided there ; 
 living constantly in London, where he 
 wrote for the stage, and conducted the 
 Morning Post. In 1780, he established 
 the Morning Herald, which became 
 the gazette of fashion. Bishop Lowth 
 having called upon him to reside, or 
 discharge clerical duty, near London, 
 he, to avoid the former, took the 
 curacy of Hendon. Here he used to 
 attend on Sundays, with his friend 
 Parsons the comedian; and between 
 the morning and afternoon service, 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 play at cribbage in the vestry ! When 
 the Duke of Bedford became Lord 
 Lieutenant of Ireland, he gave Dud- 
 ley the chancellorship of the cathedral 
 of Eerns, and other preferments. In 
 1816, he obtained a prebend of Ely. 
 The Prince Regent made him a baro- 
 net in 1812. But when, in 1807, 
 application was made to Lord Gren- 
 ville to promote him to the episcopate, 
 his Lordship referred the apphcant to 
 the words of St. Paul — "A bishop 
 must be no striker." 
 
 The King was naturally indolent; 
 and when quite a young man, fre- 
 quently gave audience in bed. This, 
 however, we suppose, he would have 
 attributed to being up " early in the 
 morning." 
 
 A ludicrous anecdote is told of an 
 audience given in bed by a statesman 
 in the reign of George II. He was 
 confined in winter time, by the gout, 
 and lay in a double-bedded room. A 
 colleague entering to converse with 
 him, felt cold, as there was no fire in 
 the room, and at length got into the 
 other bed to warm himself. The con- 
 versation was resumed, was carried 
 on, was raised into a warm debate; 
 and a third party coming in, saw to 
 his astonishment the two legislators 
 leaning each out of a bed, furiously 
 gesticulating towards each other. — 
 Abridged from the Saturday Review. 
 
 Miss Knight, " Lady Companion to 
 the Princess Charlotte," witnessed 
 this strange scene : — 
 
 "The Prince Regent's birthday, 
 12th August, was kept at the new 
 Military College at Sandhurst, where 
 the Queen was to present new colours 
 
 to the Cadet Battalion When 
 
 the Queen was about to depart, the 
 Prince Regent was not to be found, 
 and we afterwards learned that he, 
 with the Duke of York, Prince of 
 Orange (the father, afterwards first 
 Kii)g of the Netherlands), and many 
 others were under the table. The 
 Duke of York hurt his head very 
 
 seriously against a wine cellaret. In 
 short it was a sad business." 
 
 ENGLISH RACE-HOESES. 
 
 In Great Britain, from the highly 
 cultivated knowledge of the mecha- 
 nical structure of living bodies with 
 the junction of best shapes, — although 
 but for racing, this knowledge would 
 have been comparatively in its infancy, 
 — the horse has arrived at the highest 
 state of perfection of which his nature 
 is capable ; and in whatever country, 
 and in whatever climate, his racing 
 powers are put to the test, he has 
 scarcely found a rival, excepting under 
 very disadvantageous circumstances. 
 It is true his lasting qualities were 
 doubted, and he was challenged to 
 rebut the charge ; and the following 
 was the result:— On the 4th of August, 
 1825, two second-rate Enghsh racers, 
 Sharper and Mina, contended against 
 the most celebrated Cossack horses 
 from the Don, the Black Sea, and the 
 Ural, in a race of the cruel length of 
 47 miles. At starting. Sharper and 
 Mina ran away with their riders more 
 than a mile, and up a steep hill, when 
 the latter horse broke down and pulled 
 up. Half the distance was run in an 
 hour and forty minutes. In the last 
 half, only one of the Cossack horses 
 was able to contend with Sharper, 
 who, notwithstanding every foul ad- 
 vantage was taken by changing the 
 weight, and dragging along his oppo- 
 nent by a rope, won his race in gallant 
 style, performing the distance in two 
 hours and forty-eight minutes. At 
 starting, the English horses carried 
 three stone more weight than the 
 Cossacks ; and, during the latter half 
 of the race, the one Cossack who re- 
 mained in it was ridden by a mere 
 child. Every trial over the desert, no 
 matter what the distance, during 
 1826-55, between English and Eiistern 
 horses, has been attended witJi pre- 
 cisely the same results. 
 Race-horses are sold for fabulous 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 147 
 
 sums. The price fetched by the 200 
 blood yearlings which are usually 
 brought to the hammer in England 
 averaged, during the racing seasons 
 of 1854-55, about 127 guineas, which 
 is calculated for all prices, from 10 to 
 1000 guineas, or, in tlie case of the 
 Lord of the Hills, 1100 guineas. 
 Within the 15 months which preceded 
 this remarkable (1855) sale at Don- 
 caster to Mr. S. Crawford, 1000, 1020, 
 1200, and 1400 guineas were got for 
 yearling colts in public and private ; 
 and 900 and 810 guineas for yearling 
 fiUies. The average price at the Hoyal 
 sale of 1854 was 441 guineas for 14, 
 many of which were of the Orlando 
 blood, which fetches a higher price 
 than any other we have. No doubt 
 in all studs great loss is sustained by 
 a certain proportion of the young 
 stock, which promise to be small, and 
 not worth training ; but here breeders 
 are often deceived. For example, the 
 late Lord Grosvenor sent Meteora, 
 the best mare in England of her day, 
 to Chester fair, when two years old, 
 to be sold for 16/., because she was 
 considered as too small ; and he also 
 suffered Violante, the best four-mile 
 racer of her day, to be sold, untried, 
 for 50Z., but, fortunately, purchased 
 her again. The great prices, liowever, 
 occasionally paid to breeders for some 
 horses — 4000 guineas, for example, to 
 the Earl of Jersey, for Mameluke, 
 and 3500 guineas for Bay Middleton 
 — make up for the loss inseparable 
 from such as by mis-shape, diminutive 
 size, and casualties are culled out and 
 sold f6r what they wiU fetch, which 
 seldom amounts to much. Five thou- 
 sand guineas were refused for Plenipo; 
 and the greatest price ever given for 
 a race-horse was 6500 guineas, for the 
 two-year old Hobby Noble, in 1851. 
 One may, however, cease to wonder at 
 such prices, when we find that the 
 Elying Dutchman won his owner 
 nearly 20,000/. in stakes alone ; and 
 that the winnings of himself and his 
 
 half-brother Van Tromp, who belonged 
 to the same owner, amounted- to 
 34,000/. Cotherstone won, at three 
 years old, 12,765/. ; West Australian, 
 10,975/. ; and SurpKce, 10,375/. 
 
 DONOASTEK KACES. 
 
 A day at Donoaster, when the place 
 was really in its prime, was by no 
 means an idle day for the gay people 
 who were generally making nearly a 
 week of it, and were often paying a 
 guinea a night for their beds. The 
 men began the morning, if last night's 
 business had not incapacitated them, 
 by hunting — cub-hunting, if they 
 could get nothing better. They went 
 out early, and were easily back for the 
 races at two o'clock. These over, 
 they dined, and then went to the play 
 — the capital York company supplying 
 the actors ; and the entire county ana 
 some districts beyond, furnishing 
 glowing samples of north of England 
 beauty. At a reasonable hour, the 
 ilite of the audience repaired to the 
 ball, and so "kept it up" till the 
 gray dawn of a coming September 
 morning. The dissipation was com- 
 pounded for by smalt subscriptions to 
 local charities and religious societies — 
 a course the spirit of which was 
 something akin to that of the famous 
 Princess d'Harcourt, who both gam- 
 bled and cheated till four o'clock in 
 the morning, but who never went to 
 bed tdl she had received the Sacra- 
 ment at the hands of her chaplain. 
 Doubtless, many of the nobility the 
 most abandoned to the allurements of 
 sport were influenced by principles 
 superior to these. Among them we 
 may mention the Marquis of Exeter, 
 who once proposed that the race for 
 the Riddlesworth Stakes should not 
 take place on the Monday, as, in order 
 to be present at them, he was obliged 
 to do what he would rather avoid- 
 namely, travel on the Sunday, Ge- 
 neral Grosvenor, if we remember 
 rightly, treated the proposal with a 
 i2 
 
148 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 laugh and a "rider," to the effect 
 that the "Riddlesworth Slakes, in sueh 
 case, should be thenceforth called the 
 "Exeter Change!" 
 
 Queen Anne not only gave cups to 
 be run for in the North, but this re- 
 markably placid woman was very 
 eager as a runner of her own horses 
 on tlie turf. Pick's old Historical 
 Racing Calendar, published yearly at 
 lork, from 1709 to 1785, affords evi- 
 dence of this fact. Tlie Queen en- 
 tered her horses at York, to run for 
 her own cups ; but she does not ap- 
 pear to have been fortunate. In 
 July, 1712, her gray gelding Pepper 
 came in filth and third, in two heats, 
 for her Majesty's 100-guinea cup. In 
 tiie following year her gray horse 
 Mustard ran seventh and filth for a 
 similar prize ; four mile heats, it must 
 be remembered, but the horses were 
 six years old. At the summer meet- 
 ing of 1714! Anne's bay horse Star 
 won a plate of Wu. value, in four 
 heats, thus lost and recovered — four, 
 three, one, one. This was the sport- 
 ing Queen's last triumph, one of 
 which she was never conscious. 
 After this royal race had been run, 
 "an express," says old Pick, " arrived 
 with advice of the death of her Ma- 
 jesty Queen Anne ; upon which the 
 nobility and gentry immediately left 
 the field, and attended the Lord 
 Mayor (William Redman, Esq.) and 
 Archbishop Dawes, who proclaimed 
 his Majesty King George I., after 
 which most of the nobility set off for 
 London." 
 
 Tlie splendour of the show at 
 Donoaster culminated in our fathers' 
 days, or in the spring-time of many 
 of us, who remember, as if it were 
 but yesterday, wlien Petre's Nowton 
 beat Voltaire and Sir Hercules. In 
 these practical days the train simply 
 discharges waggon-loads of noble, 
 gentle, and simple into the town. It 
 was not so of yore. There was then 
 a gathering in its true and " gradual" 
 
 sense. The divers roads brought a 
 diverse company. The great aris- 
 tocracy of the company " progressed" 
 to their lodgings or to the course, like 
 princes, in grand state-coaches and 
 six, with a score of grooms as radiant 
 as new liveries and old ale could 
 make them. There were their stately 
 masters, Rockingham and Fitzwilliam, 
 Leeds and Cleveland, Harewood and 
 Wharncliffe, whose sons, cantering 
 along the roads in joyous groups, 
 would have made a body of cavalry as 
 handsome as Pompey's and less re- 
 gardful of their beauty. Sons of 
 peers, many brothers together, young 
 squires — all lords of land, in hand or 
 in hope ; it is a pleasant sight to see 
 them ! Protestant or Catholic, there 
 was a general fraternization, and the 
 roads were merry with them, — Pair- 
 fax, Lane Pox, Markham of Beccles, 
 Middleton Chalonner, Vavasour, 
 Bland of Kippax, Mitton, the Gas- 
 coynes of Aberford, young Conyers 
 Osborne, and three or four of the 
 brothers Lascelles, the eldest of them 
 a " curled son of Cliuias," and with a 
 not more affable word for Lord 
 George Bentinck or Osbaldistou than 
 for Mr. Gully, who is riding down 
 from Pontefract, and through whoso 
 hat Osbaldiston, in a duel, once sent a 
 ball. "Better there," as Gully re- 
 marked, "than through his head I" 
 
 Then what a gathering there used 
 to be in the streets on the Monday 
 before the races commenced I Debrett 
 might have found there nearly all his 
 " peers," Lodge his " baronets," and 
 Burke all his " commoners" of note. 
 Thii sort of thing was at its height in 
 1829, the year when Rowton won. 
 We never saw the territory of the old 
 Saxon De Possard — of Tostig, son of 
 Godwin — of Robert Earl of Montaigne 
 — of the Malalieus, or Mauleys — and, 
 finally, of the Corporation of Don- 
 caster, so brilliant as in that year, 
 when the famous Duchess of St. 
 Alban's held a Kttle court on the 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 149 
 
 sunny side of the street, -where Nor- 
 man and Saxon rendered homage to 
 tliat Queen for an hour, ere all, moving 
 off to the races, were encountered by 
 dozens of tract distributors, solemnly 
 pronouncmg that the road to the 
 course was the route to Hades, and 
 something beyond. Altogether, there 
 ■was occasionally a very mixed society 
 on and about the course; among the 
 so-to-speak professional habitues, men 
 who made a business of the pursuit 
 there — who were actors rather than 
 spectators, and all of whom have dis- 
 appeared without leaving a successor 
 in his peculiar line ; we may mention 
 the old Duke of Leeds, redolent of 
 port ; the white-faced Duke of Cleve- 
 land, " the Jesuit of the Ring ;" Mr. 
 Ridsdale, ex- footman, then millionaire, 
 finally pauper; blacksmith Richard- 
 son, who, shaking his head at "Leeds," 
 would remark of himself that sobriety 
 alone had saved him from being 
 ■ hanged ; Mr. Beardsworth, who had 
 been originally a hackney-coachman, 
 now sporting liis crimson liveries ; 
 Mr. Crockford, who commenced life 
 with a fish-basket, and the well-known 
 son of the ostler at the Black Swan, 
 in York, wearing diamond rings and 
 pins, betting his thousands, and look- 
 ing as cool the while as if he had not 
 only largely used the waters of Pac- 
 tolus, but owned half the gold-dust 
 on its banks. 
 
 The two extremes of the official 
 men as regarded rank were, perhaps. 
 Lord George Bentinck and Mr. Gully, 
 the ex-pugilist. The former intro- 
 duced, at Doncaster, the signal-flag to 
 regulate the " starts," and he founded 
 the Bentinck Tund (wilh the money 
 subscribed for a testimonial to him- 
 self), for the relief of decayed jockeys 
 and trainers. These two men were 
 equals in one respect — the coolness 
 with which they either won or lost. 
 They who remember the year when 
 Petre's Matilda beat Gully's Mame- 
 luke, and who witnessed the event 
 
 and its results, speak yet with a sort 
 of pride of Gully's conduct. He had 
 lost immensely ; but he was the first 
 man who appeared in the bettiug- 
 rooms to pay any one who had a bet 
 registered against him, and he was the 
 last man to leave, not retiring till lie 
 was satisfied that there did not remain 
 a single claimant. He paid away a 
 grand total on that occasion which, 
 properly invested, would have set all 
 the poor in Doncaster at ease for ever. 
 There was no instance of the same 
 horse winning both the Derby and 
 St. Leger stakes till the year 1800, 
 when Kit Wilson's Champion carried 
 oft' the two prizes. The old charm 
 was broken; but the like feat has 
 only been rarely accomplished since 
 that time. Nearly half a century 
 elapsed before it was repeated, by 
 Lord Clifden's (or rather Lord George 
 Bentiuck's) Surplice. — Abridged from 
 a capital paper in the Alhenceum. 
 
 SIE TATTON SYKES. 
 
 This venerable baronet, who died in 
 1863, was born in 1772, and married in. 
 1 822 the second daughter of Sir William 
 Joulis ; and in the following year suc- 
 ceeded to the title and estates on the 
 death of his brother. Sir Mark Sykes. 
 The deceased baronet from childhood 
 took the greatest delight in the rear- 
 ing of sheep and horses, and to the 
 last enjoyed the highest celebrity for 
 his flock and stud. His breeding stud 
 was believed to be the largest in Eng- 
 land, numbering upwards of 200 horses 
 and mares of all ages. As an owner 
 of race-horses he dates back to 1803, 
 when he won with Telemaohus at 
 Middleham ; and up to the age of 60 
 he continued to keep horses in train- 
 ing for the sole pleasure of riding 
 them himself, Malton being his fa- 
 vourite place for displaying his well- 
 known colours — orange and purple. 
 His last time of riding a winner, his 
 own property, was for the Welham 
 Cup, on Langton Wold, in 1832, on 
 
150 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 " All Heart and no Peel," a name most 
 applicable to the owner as -well as the 
 horse. His feats on horseback were 
 almost fabulous : he invariably rode 
 from Sledmere to London, and back, 
 whenever he had occasion to visit the 
 metropolis, his rule being to ride to 
 London and return as far as Barnet 
 the same night. It is related of him 
 that when a young man he started off 
 to ride a race for a friend, and started 
 home again immediately after weigh- 
 ing, the distance being very nearly 
 400 miles. Sir Tatton was never so 
 proud in his life as when he led Sir 
 Tatton Sykes, with BiU Scott on his 
 back, back to the ring after the St. 
 Leger victory of 1846 ; this scene is 
 the subject of Herring's picture, 
 painted for the Messrs. Baily. Sir 
 Tatton rode from Sledmere to Hamp- 
 ton Court to look at the stud of King 
 William IV., and there was so pleased 
 with an Arabian mare, that on the 
 day of the sale he repeated the ride 
 and bought the mare. As a master 
 of foxhounds, Sir Tatton vied in popu- 
 larity with any gentleman in England. 
 He kept hounds solely at his own ex- 
 pense, nntil he had passed his 70th 
 year, and only resigned the pack into 
 the hands of Lord Middleton on the 
 determination of his son not to accept 
 it. Sir Tatton stUl mounted in "pink" 
 till about two years before his death. 
 The baronet, his man Snarry, and his 
 horse were all characters : the servant 
 had been there 63 years, and Sir 
 Tatton used to delight in saying that 
 himself and his horse were 115 years 
 old. Sir Tatton was ever an early riser, 
 often mounting before the sun had 
 risen. He never omitted attending 
 the cattle-fairs, and was the first 
 man there at the Malton October of 
 1862. It was not an nnusual thing, 
 when there were no hunting or other 
 engagements to call him away, to find 
 Sir Tatton relieving a labourer at a 
 stone heap or slashing a fence, while 
 the labourer was sent to the castle to 
 
 enjoy a flagon of ale. As a landlord, 
 a master, and a friend. Sir Tatton was 
 much beloved, and to him may justly 
 be applied those words of commenda- 
 tion, "He never lost a friend nor 
 made an enemy." 
 
 ME. PRIln'S GREAT PICTTJEE OP 
 
 "the railway station." 
 
 For this picture, painted by Mr. 
 Frith, R.A., he received the sum 
 of 8750^. — by far the largest ever 
 paid to a painter; it includes the right 
 of exhibition and engraving. It has 
 been well described in the Times, 
 whence the following is abridged : — 
 
 Mr. Frith has painted a picture in- 
 troducing nearly 100 figures, all in 
 the act of parting with something or 
 somebody, which is neither confused 
 in grouping nor monotonous in inci- 
 dent or expression. 
 
 The scene is under the vast roof of 
 the Great Western Station, whose 
 neutral-toned roofing, with the far- 
 reaching straight lines of the side 
 girders, and the rectilinear forms of 
 the carriages, ludicrously broken by 
 the luggage on their roofs, are used 
 to support and balance the serpentine 
 line of the groups below, along which, 
 notwithstanding the number of the 
 figures, the eye is pleasantly and dis- 
 tinctly guided by the judicious distri- 
 bution of light and colour. 
 
 From right to left, we have a series 
 of groups, each distinct in its occupa- 
 tion and character, but combined with 
 most felicitous skill and judgment. 
 Following them in their order, we 
 have, first, the arrest of a Robson or 
 Kfidpath by detectives, as the fugitive 
 has his foot on the step of the carriage 
 that he hoped would bear him to 
 safety. His face is cadaverous with 
 the shock of the detective's sudden 
 hand on his shoulder; his paralysed 
 fingers have let fall his travelling-bag; 
 his wife, haggard with long suffering, 
 looks on in agony from the carriage, 
 in which an old traveller has ensconced 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 151 
 
 himself, and, absorbed in his news- 
 paper, does Eot even notice the tragedy 
 at his elbow. The detectives are por- 
 traits, and perfectly natural and un- 
 stagy in action and expression. 
 
 By the side of this incident is the 
 parting of a fair and happy bride from 
 her bridesmaids — her hand on the arm 
 of a handsome young husband, who 
 turns to give directions to a servant 
 about a jewel-case. The bride's 
 child-sister sobs, refusing to be com- 
 forted by a smiling maid and a sym- 
 pathetic little brother. . On this fair 
 and happy group falls the principal 
 light of the picture. The Great 
 Western Station is a favourite termi- 
 nus for wedding parties now-a-days. 
 The hotel there has even, we believe, 
 its suite of wedding rooms. And the 
 dresses are quite in keeping with 
 usage. The bride is in her travelling 
 garb, the bridesmaids in the pretty 
 dresses they have worn at the cere- 
 mony. The beauty and festive bril- 
 liancy of this group lends intensity to 
 the ghastliness of the arrest and its 
 circumstances. 
 
 Then comes a recruiting sergeant, 
 carrying down his batch of recruits to 
 the dep6t, and merrily kissing his 
 baby as he bids his jolly wife good- 
 bye for the day. Among his recruits 
 is a London blackguard, with an ad- 
 mirably-expressed struggle of emotion 
 in his ugly face, while a decent widowed 
 old mother cries on his shoulder. 
 More in the foreground, a British 
 cabman is indignantly remonstrating 
 with a helpless foreigner, whose fair- 
 haired voluble wife has taken the 
 work of resistance out of her husband's 
 hands, and answers British insolence 
 with shrill Southern volubility and 
 gesticulation. Near them is an Eng- 
 Bsh mamma, " fair, fat, and forty," 
 giving the last hug to her little school- 
 boy, whom Paterfamilias is taking to 
 school, with his elder brother — too 
 much of a mam to give way quite, and 
 struggling to gulp down the tears 
 
 which will force their passage in spite 
 of the manhood of fourteen. A lug- 
 gage truck leaves the crowd, impelled 
 by a sturdy porter, and followed by 
 an overblown matron, in all the un- 
 necessary fuss of one of that trouble- 
 some class which always insists on 
 being too late, followed by her hus- 
 band, weak of mind for all his brawn 
 and beef, who lugs along a lubberly 
 boy with a birdcage. 
 
 More in the background are men- 
 of-war's men, bound for Plymouth or 
 Portsmouth ; a young officer with his 
 wife (who will accompany him to the 
 last), bidding adieu to her mother; 
 a married tar, masking his grief at 
 parting with his red-eyed, mournful 
 wife, by a garrulous good-bye to their 
 baby, while his comrade calls him to 
 the carriage. The contrast of this 
 bitter parting with the sergeant's 
 light-hearted one is perfectly and 
 subtly expressed. 
 
 On the left, in the foreground 
 corner of the composition, a game- 
 keeper is coupling a brace of setters ; 
 an old lady is pleading hard with a 
 porter, stern in the sense of duty, but 
 civil withal, for leave to carry her 
 Maltese terrier with her into the car- 
 riage — a plea which neither her lady- 
 like importunity nor her daughter's 
 earnest eyes can carry with the proud 
 young porter. 
 
 In the middle distance a jolly Lon- 
 doner, rod in hand, bound for Maiden- 
 head or Great Marlow, hurries to his 
 place, thinking of nothing but his 
 sport. Further in the distance, a 
 shabby-genteel old father gives a few 
 last words of counsel to a girl starting 
 on service; a feeble old gentleman 
 totters along on the arm of his daugh- 
 ter; a bookworm, his nose buried in 
 the volume he has just bought, hurries 
 along, regardless whom he may jostle ; 
 a light-hearted tar shakes hands, 
 laughing, with his " old woman," and 
 in the far distance, an amateur of 
 steam and steam-engines discusses the 
 
152 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 points of the engine with the stalwart 
 driver. Volunteers, with their rifles, 
 chat over points and sights; groups 
 are exchanging good-byes, light or 
 heavy, of love, kindred, or acquaint- 
 anceship, at and about the carriage 
 doors. Overhead are seen the puffs 
 of steam from the in-train which is 
 arriving on the other side of the sta- 
 tion. They are meeting there, as 
 they are parting here. 
 
 With what subtlety these many and 
 mingled emotions are conveyed by ac- 
 tion and expression the picture must 
 be seen to appreciate. Nowhere do 
 we find any staginess or over-grimace. 
 Prom the simple physical action of the 
 porters who are picking up, packing, 
 or wheeling luggage, to the deep 
 tragic suffering of the felon's wife, or 
 the conflict of feelings in the face of 
 the Westminster recruit, Mr. Frith 
 has throughout proved himself a 
 master of his class of art. 
 
 Huntington's bank or rAiiii. 
 
 It suited the purpose of Huntington 
 the preacher,* to represent himself 
 as living under the special favour of 
 i'rovidence, because lie intended to 
 live by it : that is, upon the credulity 
 of those whom he could persuade to 
 believe him ; and the history of his 
 success, which he published under the 
 title of God the Guardian of the Poor, 
 and the Bank of Faith ; or, a Display 
 of the Providences of God, which have, 
 at sundry times, attended the Author, is 
 
 * The Eev. William Huntington was 
 bom in the year 1774, in the Weald of 
 Kent, between Goudhurst and Cranbrook, 
 where his father was a day-labourer. The 
 boy worked in various ways, and having 
 *' a call," he became anArrainian preacher, 
 at the same time that at Thames Ditton 
 he carried coals on the river, at lOs. a- 
 week : hence he was generally known as 
 the Coatheaver. He preached inordinately 
 long sermons, sometimes of two hours' du- 
 ration; his prayers were mostly made up 
 of Scriptural phrases. 
 
 a production equally singular and 
 curious. 
 
 One reason which he gives for 
 writing this marvellous treatise is, 
 that we are often tempted to believe 
 that God takes no notice of our tem- 
 poral concerns. " I found God's 
 promises," he says, "to be the Chris- 
 tian's bank-note ; and a living faith 
 will always draw on the divine 
 banker, yea, and the spirit of prayer, 
 and a deep sense of want, will give an 
 heir of promise a filial boldness at the 
 inexhaustible bank of heaven." Ac- 
 cordingly, for great things and for 
 little he drew boldly upon the bank. 
 Thus, he was provided witli game and 
 fish. One day, when he had nothing 
 but bread in the house, he was moved 
 by the Spirit to take a by-path, 
 where he had never gone before ; but 
 the reason was, that a stoat was to kill 
 a fine large rabbit, just in time for him 
 to secure the prey. When his wife 
 was lying-in, and there was no tea in 
 tlie house, and they had neither money 
 nor credit, his wife bade the nurse set 
 the kettle on in faitli, and before it 
 boiled, a stranger brought a present of 
 tea to the door. At another time, a 
 friend, without solicitation, gives him 
 half a guinea when he was penniless ; 
 and lest he should have any difficulty 
 in obtaining change for it, when he 
 crossed Kingston bridge, he oasts his 
 eyes on the ground, and finds a penny 
 to pay the toll. He borrows a 
 guinea, which he is unable to pay at 
 the time appointed, so he prays that 
 God would send him one from some 
 quarter or another, and forthwith the 
 lender calls and desires him to con- 
 sider it a free gift. He wants a new 
 parsonic livery : " wherefore," says 
 he, "in humble prayer I told my most 
 blessed Lord and Master that niy year , 
 was out, and my apparel bad ; that I 
 had nowhere to go for these things, 
 but to him ; and as he had promised to 
 give his servants food and raiment, I 
 hoped he would fulfil his promise to 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 153 
 
 me, tliough one of the worst of 
 them." So, having settled it in his 
 own mind that a certain person in 
 London would act as the intermediate 
 agent in this providential transaction, 
 he called upon him, and, as he ex- 
 pected, the raggedness of his apparel 
 led to a conversation which ended in 
 the offer of a new suit, and of a great- 
 coat to boot. 
 
 He lived in this manner seven or 
 eight years, not, indeed, taking no 
 thought for the morrow, but making 
 no other provision for it than by 
 letting the specific object of his 
 prayers, and their general tendency 
 always be understood, where a word 
 to the unwise was sufficient. Being 
 now in much request, and " having 
 many doors open to hirn for preaching 
 the Gospel very wide apart," he began 
 to want a horse, then to wish, and 
 lastly to pray, for one. " I used my 
 prayers," he says, " as gunners use 
 their swivels, turning them every day, 
 as various eases required ;" before the 
 day was over, he was presented with a 
 horse, which had been purchased for 
 him by subscription. Tlie horse was 
 to be maintained by his own means, 
 but what of that? "I told God," 
 says he, " that I had more work for 
 my faith now than heretofore ; for the 
 horse would cost half as much to keep 
 as my whole family. In answer to 
 which this Scripture came to my mind 
 with power and comfort, 'Dwell in 
 the land, and do good, and verily thou 
 shalt be fed.' This was a bank-note 
 put into the hand of my faith, which, 
 when I got poor, I pleaded before 
 God, and he answered it ; so that I 
 lived and cleared my way just as well 
 when I had my horse to keep as I did 
 before." 
 
 [And now it was that Huntington 
 prayed for a pair of breeches, and re- 
 ceived the same, as narrated at p. 124.] 
 
 Some awkward disclosures were 
 now made, and he became weary of 
 Thames Dilton, and having a well- 
 
 timed vision, he secretly wished that 
 God would remove him from that 
 place ; and as London was the place 
 where he might reasonably expect to 
 work less and feed better, it was 
 " suddenly impressed on his mind to 
 leave Thames Ditton, and take a 
 house in the great metropolis, where 
 hearers were more numerous, and that 
 this was the meaning of the words 
 spoken to him in the vision." It was 
 likewise suggested to his mind that 
 the people had been permitted of late 
 to persecute him more than usual, 
 that they might drive him to this re- 
 moval. " And I much question," says 
 Huntington, " if ever God sends his 
 word there again, for I think they are 
 left almost as inexcusable as Chorazin 
 and Capernaum!" The impression 
 which he had now received was ac- 
 knowledged as a plain and evident 
 call by the good friends who nego- 
 tiated his bills upon tlie Bank of 
 Faith, and accordingly, to London he 
 and his family went. 
 
 His next draft upon the Bank was 
 to a larger amount. During three 
 years he had secretly wished for a 
 chapel of his own, because, as he says, 
 he was sick of the errors that were 
 perpetually broached by some or other 
 m Margaret-street Chapel, where he 
 then preached with Lady Hunting- 
 don's people. Much, however, as he 
 desired this, he protests that he could 
 not ask God for such a favour, think- 
 ing it was not to be broughf, about by 
 one so very mean, low, and poor as 
 himself. But fortune favours the 
 bold. One of his friends looked at 
 a suitable piece of ground, by parti- 
 cular impulse of Providence ; and he 
 took Huntington to look at it also. 
 Another friend, under a similar im- 
 pulse, planned a chapel one day while 
 he was hearing Huntington preach a 
 sermon; and he offered to undertake 
 the management of the building 
 without fee or reward. Thus encou- 
 raged, he took the ground, and began 
 
154 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 to build Providence Chapel, when he 
 was 20/. in debt, and nad no other 
 funds than the freewill offerings of 
 his hearers, and tlie money which they 
 were willing to lend him upon his 
 credit with the Bank of raith. The 
 first offering amounted to no more 
 than eleven pounds, which were soon 
 expended on the foundations. He 
 bespoke a load of timber, and going 
 to the right person for it, it was sent 
 him with a bill and receipt in full, as 
 a contribution towards the chapel. 
 Another " good man" came with tears 
 in his eyes to bless Mr. Huntington 
 for the good which he had received 
 under his sermons, and to request that 
 he might paint the pulpit, desk, &c., 
 as a grateful acknowledgment. A 
 bedroom was very handsomely fur- 
 nished for him, that he might not be 
 under the necessity of walking home 
 in the cold winter-nights. A looking- 
 glass for his chapel study was pre- 
 sented by one person, a book-case by 
 another, chairs for the vestry, a pulpit 
 cushion, a splendid Bible, a set of 
 china, and a well-stored tea-chest, 
 were supplied in like manner : money 
 was liberally lent, as well as given ; 
 the chapel " sprung up like a mush- 
 room;" and when it was finished, he 
 says, " I was in arrears for 1000/., so 
 that I had plenty of work for faith, if 
 I could get plenty of faith to work ; 
 and while some deny a providence, 
 providence was the only supply I had." 
 
 His never-failing friends settled him 
 in a country-house, stocked his garden 
 and his farm for him ; and that he 
 might travel conveniently to and from 
 his chapel, they presented him with a 
 coach and pair of horses, and sub- 
 scribed to pay the taxes for both. To 
 crown all, having buried his wife, the 
 gleaner, he preached himself into the 
 good graces of Lady Saunderson^ the 
 widow of the Lord Mayor, and mar- 
 ried her. 
 
 His uniform prosperity received 
 but one shock. The chapel in Titoh- 
 
 field-street, which he had raised from 
 the ground, aftd carried up into the 
 air, when ground room was wanting, 
 was burnt down. This was thought 
 by some of Huntington's followers, 
 to be a judgment upon him for having 
 inclosed the free seats, and "laid 
 out the whole chapel 'in boxes like 
 an opera-house." But Huntington 
 looked at this misfortune otherwise. 
 Writing to one of his friends, he 
 says ; " Such a stroke as this, twenty- 
 seven years ago, would have caused 
 our hope to give up the ghost ; but 
 being a little stronger in the Lord, 
 faith has heavier burthens laid on. 
 The temple built by Solomon, and that 
 built by Cyrus, were both burnt. It 
 will cause a little rejoicing among the 
 Philistines, as has been the case often: 
 they once triumphed gloriously, when 
 the ark of God was taken, supposing 
 that Dagon had overcome the God of 
 Israel; but their joy was short. This 
 I know, that it shall work for our 
 good, but how I know not ; if I did, 
 I must walk by sight, and not by 
 faith." He then held out a sort of 
 threat of removing into the country ; 
 but his London followers were pre- 
 sently in motion, " some looking out 
 for a spot of ground, some bringing 
 their offerings, others wishing the 
 glory of the latter house may exceed 
 that of the former." "Bat," says 
 he, "it is to bear the same name: 
 this I gave them to understand from 
 the pulpit, and assigned the following 
 reasons for it : — that unless God pro- 
 vided men to work, and money to pay 
 them, and materials to work with, no 
 chapel could be erected ; and, if he 
 provided all these. Providence must 
 be its name." The chapel, accord- 
 ingly, was built in Gray's-Inn-lane, 
 and upon a larger scale than the last : 
 taught by his former experience, 
 Huntington took care not to make 
 himself responsible for any of the ex- 
 penses, and when it was firushed, 
 managed matters so well with his 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 155 
 
 obedient flock, tliat the chapel was 
 made over to him, as his own, for he 
 is said to have refused to preach in it 
 on any otlier conditions* 
 
 HTJNTtSGTOK ASB HIS COEEE- 
 SPONDENTS. 
 
 The preacher had innumerable ap- 
 plicants for spiritual advice. To one 
 person who consults him, he says : 
 " You need not have made any apo- 
 logy, as the troubled minds of sensible 
 sinners are my peculiar province. I 
 am authorized and commissioned by 
 the God of heaven to transact busi- 
 ness, and negotiate affairs between 
 the King of kings and self-condemned 
 rebels." One madman assures him 
 that he was actually electrified, in 
 body and soul, by one of his books. 
 This man saw a brilliant star over the 
 head of Huntington while he was 
 preaching, and Huntington publishes 
 the letter, and assures him that dreams 
 (of which he has communicated a 
 curious story) are from the Spirit of 
 God. Sometimes he found that cor- 
 respondents were troublesome, new- 
 born babes being never satisfied when 
 they desire the sincere milk of the 
 word. A certain Mrs. Bull writes to 
 him rather more frequently than is 
 agreeable. Huntington lets Mrs. 
 Bull know that he does not like her 
 head-dress ; he finds fault with her 
 preposterous streamers, and her first, 
 second, and third tier of curls ; but 
 tells her that a little more furnace 
 work will teach her to pull down those 
 useless topsails. This prediction was 
 verified rather more literally than it 
 was meant, for the said Mrs. B., 
 thiokiug it was not his business to 
 interfere with her head-dress, was 
 about to resent it in a sharp letter, 
 "but," says she, "happening to fall 
 asleep by the fire, as I was reading 
 
 * Selected and abridged from an excel- 
 lent paper on Huntington's Works and 
 life, attributed to Southey; Quarterly/ 
 Meview, No. 48. 
 
 the Bible, the candle caught the lappet 
 of my cap, consumed my cap, and a 
 good deal of my hair, and I own it a 
 great mercy that I was not consumed 
 myself, and you may be assured that 
 you will see neither streamers, curls, 
 nor topsails again." 
 
 Mr. Bramah appears among his 
 controversial correspondents, and 
 Huntington tells him that he makes 
 a good patent lock, but cuts a poor 
 figure with the keys of the kingdom 
 of heaven. Mr. Bensley, the printer, 
 was one of his believers, which ex- 
 plains the handsome appearance of 
 Huntington's collected works, in 20 
 volumes, 8vo; his spiritual employer 
 calls him dear brother in the Lord, 
 and dear Tom in the flesh. Trader 
 in faith as he was, there were some 
 social qualities about him, which won 
 and secured the attachment of his 
 friends, even of 'those upon whom he 
 drew most largely. He mentions 
 particularly Mr. and Mrs. Baker, of 
 Oxford-street, who, having no children 
 of their own, kept caring and travail- 
 ing many years for him ; and though 
 "sorely tried by various losses m 
 business, bankruptcies, and bad debts, 
 supplied him with money whenever 
 he required it." "While the chapel 
 was building," he says, " when money 
 was continually demanded, if there 
 was one shilling in the house, I was 
 sure to have it." This couple, and 
 another, with whom he was on terms 
 of equal intimacy, agreed, as they 
 were bound together with their chosen 
 pastor, for life and for eternity, not 
 to be divided in death ; and, accord- 
 ingly, they jointly purchased a piece 
 of ground near Petersham, and erected 
 a substantial tomb there, wherein they 
 might rest together in the dust.* 
 
 Huntington died in 1813, at Tun- 
 bridge Wells; he was buried at Lewes, 
 in a piece of ground adjoining the 
 chapel of one of his associates : it 
 
 * Ibid. 
 
15G 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 ■was his desire that there should be 
 no funeral sermon preached on the 
 occasion, and that nothing should be 
 said over his grave. He indited his 
 own epitaph in these words : — 
 
 " Here lies the Coalheaver, 
 
 Beloved of his God, but abhorred of men. 
 
 The Omniscient Judge 
 
 At the Grand Assize shall rectify and 
 
 Confirm this to the 
 
 Confusion of many thousands ; 
 
 Tor England and its Metropolis shall know. 
 
 That there hath been a prophet 
 
 Among them." 
 
 A MEMORABLE BANK NOTE. 
 
 The thousand pound note with 
 which the late Eaj-l of Dundonald 
 (then Admiral Lord Cochrane) paid 
 the fine inflicted on him when he was 
 found guilty, by a packed jury, of 
 <!irculatiBg false news to cause a 
 rise in the funds is, we believe, 
 still preserved in the Bank of Eng- 
 land, and bears this endorsement: 
 — " My health having suifered by long 
 and close confinement, and my op- 
 pressors being resolved to deprive me 
 of my property or life, I submit to 
 robbery to save myself from murder, 
 in the hope that I may live to bring 
 the delinquents to justice." 
 
 RAILWAY TRAVELLING. 
 
 Very contrary opinions are held 
 upon the effects of railway travelling 
 upon the health of passengers. Dr. 
 Walter Lewis, the medical oflicer of 
 the London Post-ofiice, iu his Report 
 issued in 1863, states that he has 
 arrived at these conclusions from 
 observations of the health of the tra- 
 velling officers of Ihe Post-office, — 
 That railway travelling has Httle, if 
 any, injurious effect, on the healthy, 
 strong, well-built persons, if the 
 amount be not excessive, and if they 
 take moderate care of themselves; 
 but that persons who take to habitual 
 railway travelling after the age of 25 
 or 30 are more easily aff'ected than 
 those who begin earlier, and that the 
 
 more advanced in age a traveller is, 
 the more easily is he affected by this 
 sort of locomotion. Weak, tall, 
 loosely-knit persons, and tliose suffer- 
 ing under various affections, more 
 especially of the head, heart, and 
 lungs, are very unsuited for habitual 
 railway travelling. 
 
 Smollett's uugh strap. 
 For many years there lived at the 
 lodge of Villiers-vvalk, at the foot of 
 Buckingham-street, Adelphi, the iden- 
 tical Hugh Strap whom Smollett has 
 so prominently pourtrayed in his 
 Roderick Random. His real name 
 was Hugh Hewson, and for more than 
 forty years he kept a hairdresser's 
 shop in the parish of St. Martin-in- 
 the-Kelds. His shop was hung round 
 with Latin quotations, and he would 
 frequently point out to his customers 
 and acquaintances the several scenes 
 in Roderick Random pertaining to 
 himself, wliich had their foundation, 
 not in Smollett's inventive fancy, but 
 in truth and reality. The meeting in 
 the barber's shop at Newcastle, the 
 subsequent mistake at the inn, their 
 arrival together in London, and the 
 assistance they received from Strap's 
 friend, were all facts. Hewson left 
 behind him an interlined copy of 
 Roderick Random, showing how far 
 we are indebted to the genius of 
 the doctor, and to what extent the 
 incidents were founded in reality. 
 Hewson was many years employed as 
 the keeper of " Villiers-walk," as the 
 lime-tree walk in the rear of the 
 water-gate is called. He died in the 
 year 1809, at the advanced age of 
 eighty-five. 
 
 a troitblesome partisan. 
 John, Duke of Bedford, leader of 
 the powerful Whig connexion called 
 by their enemies, "the Bloomsbury 
 Gaug," must have been a troublesome 
 supporter of the Newcastle ministry. 
 Yet he was managed by his colleagues. 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 157 
 
 of whom Mr. Pitt said : " They will 
 disgust the Duke of Bedford in the 
 spriugr, that they may not be teased 
 with his solicitations ; and they will 
 sweeten him again by winter, with 
 some trifling favour, that he may give- 
 them no trouble in Parliament." 
 
 MB. rOX AJID THE " SENSIBLE 
 WOMAN." 
 
 In the summer of 1773, a cunning 
 woman who had been transported, a 
 few years before, advertised herself in 
 London as a sensible woman who gave 
 advice on all emergencies for half-a- 
 guinea. She pretended to be related 
 to Ministers, and called herself the 
 Hon. Mrs. Grieve. Among the dupes 
 whom she causht in her snares was 
 Charles Pox. According to Walpole, 
 this woman undoubtedly had uncom- 
 mon talents and a knowledge of the 
 world. She persuaded Fox, desperate 
 witli his debts, that she could procure 
 for him, as a wife, a Miss Phipps, 
 with a fortune of 80,000/.. who was 
 just arrived from the West Indies. 
 There was such a person coming over, 
 but not with half the fortune, nor 
 known to Mrs. Grieve. With this 
 bait, she amused Mr. Fox for many 
 months, appointed meetings, and once 
 persuaded him that, as Miss Phipps 
 liked a fair man, and as he was re- 
 markably black, he must powder his 
 eyebrows. Of that intended inter- 
 view he was disappointed by the 
 imaginary lady's falling ill of what 
 was afterwards pretended to be the 
 small-pox. After he had waited some 
 time, Mrs. Grieve affected to go to 
 see if Miss Phipps was a little better 
 and able to receive her swain ; but on 
 opening the door, a servant-maid, who 
 had been posted to wait on the stairs, 
 as coming down with the remains of 
 a basin of broth, told Mrs. Grieve 
 that Miss Phipps was not well enough 
 to receive the visit. Had a novice 
 been the prey of these artifices, it 
 would not have been extraordinary. 
 
 but Charles Fox had been in the 
 world from his childhood, and been 
 treated as a man long before the 
 season. He must have known there 
 could not have beea an Hon. Mrs. 
 Grieve, nor such a being as she pre- 
 tended to be. In one respect she 
 had singular ^»eise .■ instead of asking 
 him for money, which would have de- 
 tected her plot at once, she was so 
 artful as to lend him 300/., or there- 
 abouts ; and she paid herself by his 
 chariot standing frequently at her 
 door, which served to impose on her 
 mora vulgar dupes. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON AND SOME OP HIS 
 TKIENDS. 
 
 Lord Maoaulay has thus vividly 
 grouped a few of the associates of 
 Johnson. Among these may be men- 
 tioned Boyse, who, when his shirts 
 were pledged, scrawled Latin verses 
 sitting up in bed with his arms through 
 two holes in the blanket, who com- 
 posed very respectable sacred poetry 
 when he was sober, and who was at 
 last run over by a hackney-coach when 
 he was drunk ; Hoole, surnamed the 
 metaphysical tailor, who,^ instead of 
 attending to his measures, used to 
 trace geometrical diagrams on the 
 board where he sat cross-legged ; and 
 the penitent impostor, George Psal- 
 manazer, who, after poring all day, in 
 a humble lodging,' on the follies of 
 Jewish rabbis and Christian fathers, 
 indulged himself at night with literary 
 and theological conversation at an 
 alehouse in the city. But the most 
 remarkable of the persons with whom 
 at this time Johnson consorted, was. 
 Richard Savage, an earl's son, a shoe- 
 maker's apprentice, who had seen life- 
 in all its forms; who had feasted 
 among blue ribands in St. James's- 
 square, and had lain with fifty-pounds' 
 weight of iron on his legs, in the con- 
 demned ward of Newgate. This man 
 had, after many vicissitudes of for- 
 tune, sunk at last into abject and 
 
158 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 hopeless poverty. His pen had failed 
 Mm. His patrons had been taken 
 away hy death, or estranged by the 
 riotous profusion with which he squan- 
 dered their bounty, and the ungrateful 
 insolence with which he rejected their 
 advice. He now lived by begging. 
 He dined on venison and champagne 
 whenever he had been so fortunate as 
 to borrow a guinea. If his questing 
 had been upsuccessful, he appeased 
 the rage of hunger with some scraps 
 of broken meat, and lay down to rest 
 under the Piazza of Covent Garden in 
 warm weather, and, in cold weather, 
 as near as he could get to the furnace 
 of a glass-house. Yet, in this misery, 
 he was still an agreeable companion. 
 He had an inexhaustible store of anec- 
 dotes about that gay and brilliant 
 world from which he was now an out- 
 cast. He had observed the great 
 men of both parties in hours of care- 
 less relaxation, had seen the leaders 
 of ojjposition without a mask of pa- 
 triotism, and had heard the prime 
 minister roar with laughter and tell 
 stories not over decent. During 
 some months Savage lived in the 
 closest familiarity with Johnson ; and 
 then the friends parted, not without 
 tears. Johnson remained in London 
 to drudge for Cave. Savage went to 
 the West of England, lived there as 
 he had lived everywhere, and, in 1743, 
 died, penniless and heart-broken, in 
 Bristol jail. 
 
 WHAT GREAT MEN SAX OF ONE 
 AKOTHEK. 
 
 The famous controversy between 
 Boyle and Bentley about .^sop's 
 Tables and the Epistles of Phalaris, 
 illustrates very remarkably the will- 
 ingness of great men to defame one 
 another. Boyle calls Bentley "a 
 dunce and a jackass," while Bentley 
 compares Boyle, with his new read- 
 ings, to " a bungling tinker mending 
 old kettles." Then came the conflict 
 between Bentley and Bishop Hare 
 
 respecting the metre of Terence — a 
 dispute that gave rise to the severe 
 rebuke of Sir Isaac Newton, that 
 "two dignified divines, instead of 
 minding their duties, had fallen out 
 about a play-book." 
 
 Lord Chesterfield called Dr. 
 Samuel Johnson a " Hottentot." 
 Dr. Adam Smith called the same Dr. 
 Samuel Johnson a " brute." Johnson 
 replied that Smith was " a liar ;" and 
 Smith rejoined by tracing Johnson's 
 genealogy to Hecuba — as the Queen 
 of Troy is known to us subsequently 
 to her transformation ! 
 
 Smollett paid a delicate compliment 
 to Admiral Knowles:— "He is an 
 admiral without conduct, an engineer 
 without knowledge, an officer without 
 resolution, and a man without vera- 
 city!" 
 
 Swift talks of Walpole as "a 
 contemptible boor," and hints with 
 unmistakeable distinctness that the 
 Duke of Marlborough was a coward. 
 
 Voltaire, in his Letters from Mng- 
 land, testifies to the prevalence of a 
 similar opinion : — " So violent did I 
 find parties in London that I was as- 
 sured by several that the Duke of 
 Marlborough was a coward, and Mr. 
 Pope a fool!" 
 
 Some sweet compliments passed 
 between Dennis and Sir Richard 
 Steele. After taunting him with the 
 atrocious offence of being an Irish- 
 man, he tells him that he is marked 
 " like Cain," and that his Hibernian 
 origin is " stamped upon his face, his 
 writings, his actions, his passions, 
 and, above all, his vanity." Steele 
 replied, that his assailant had an 
 "ugly vinegar face," and " duck-legs 
 made for carrying burdens ;" and that 
 " he never let the sun into his garret, 
 for fear he should bring a bailiff along 
 with him !" 
 
 Mr. Buskin describes the pictures 
 of Claude Lorraine as "nonentities 
 and abortions ;" and Mr. Carlyle 
 politely assures us that Ignatius 
 
GOOD THINGS. 
 
 159 
 
 Loyola was " a ferocious human 
 pig!" 
 
 Mr. Thackeray describes Pope as 
 "a pert, prurient little bard," and 
 Swift as " a wretched worn-out scamp 
 — a poor stricken wretch." Nor is he 
 more gracious to John Wilkes. Dr. 
 Alexander Chalmers assures us that 
 Mr. Wilkes was "a gentleman of 
 elegant manners, of fine taste, and of 
 pleasinr; conversation." Mr. Thack- 
 eray describes him as a "blas- 
 phemous, cock-eyed demagogue !" 
 
 Dr. Gilbert Stuart hallooed Dr. 
 Henry through the world as "an ass 
 and an idiot;" and Southey cannot 
 afford to designate Napoleon other- 
 wise than as the "bloody Corsican." 
 Nor was the French Csesar more just, 
 for he sneered at Wellins;ton as "a 
 sepoy-captain." Byron called Landor 
 a " gander ;" Southey, " an incarnate 
 lie ;" Wordsworth, " a footman;" and 
 Shakespeare himself, "a humbug." 
 But in this last instance he did but 
 steal the thunder of Voltaire, who 
 described our matchless dramatist as a 
 "buffoon and a barbarian !" 
 
 But the most scathing thing that 
 one human being ever said to another 
 was probably what Henry Grattan 
 said to Henry Flood in the course of a 
 Parliamentary debate. Plood had in- 
 advertently alluded to Grattan as his 
 "honourable friend." Grattan sprang 
 upon his legs, and exclaimed, " Whom 
 does the honourable gentleman call 
 ]m friend F — Not me, surely. I'd spit 
 on him in a desert !" — Selected from a 
 volume of clever Essays and Poems, 
 by Charles Dunphy, A.B. 
 
 OLDEN ETOJ. 
 
 Without any disposition to laugh 
 at the " wisdom of the ancients," we 
 may be allowed to indulge in a little 
 amusement at the expense of our 
 ancestors of some three and a half 
 centuries since, when Wynkyn de 
 Worde had liis printing-office in Fleet- 
 street, " at the sygne of the Swanne," 
 
 and issued, for the entertainment of 
 children of all growths, his "De- 
 maundes Joyous," in 1511. These 
 amusing trifles are printed in the 
 English of the perioa, which is mo- 
 dernized in the following selection 
 from these old " quips, quirks, and 
 quiddities :" — 
 
 Ques. — What bare the best burden 
 that ever was borne ? Ans. — The ass 
 that carried our Lady, when she fled 
 with our Lord into Egypt. 
 
 ^. — What became of that ass ? 
 A. — Adam's mother ate her. 
 
 §. — Who was Adam's mother ? 
 ^.— The earth. 
 
 §. — How many cows' tails would 
 it take to reach from the earth to the 
 sky? A. — No more than one, if it 
 be long enough. 
 
 §. — What is the distance from the 
 surface of the sea to the deepest part 
 thereof? A. — Only a stone's throw. 
 
 §. — ^When Antichrist appears in 
 the world, what will be the hardest 
 thing for him to understand ? A. — 
 A hand-barrow, for of that he shall 
 not know which end ought to go 
 foremost. 
 
 Q. — What is it that never was and 
 never will be ? A. — A mouse's nest 
 in a oat's ear. 
 
 Q. — Why do men make an oven in 
 a town? A. — Because they cannot 
 make a town in an oven. 
 
 §. — How may a man discern a cow 
 in a flock of sheep ? A. — By his 
 eyesight. 
 
 §. — Why doth a cow lie down? 
 A. — Because it cannot sit. 
 
 §. — What is it that never freezeth? 
 A. — Boiling water. 
 
 Q. — Which was first, the hen or the 
 egg ? A. — The hen, at the creation. 
 
 §. — How many straws go to a 
 goose's nest? A. — Not one, for 
 straws not having feet cannot go 
 anywhere. 
 
 Q. — Who killed the fourth part of 
 all the people in the world ? ^.— . 
 Cain when he killed Abel, when 
 
160 
 
 GOOD THINGS. 
 
 there were but four persons in the 
 world. 
 
 Q. — What is it that is a builder, 
 and yet not a man, doeth what no man 
 can do, and yet serveth both God and 
 man ? A. — A bee. 
 
 Q. — What man eetteth his living 
 by walking backwards ? A. — A rope- 
 maker. 
 
 Q. — How would you say two 
 paternosters, when you know God 
 made but one paternoster ? A. — Say 
 one twice over. 
 
 Q. — Which are the most profitable 
 saints of the cliurch? A. — Those 
 painted on the glass windows, for 
 tliey keep the wind from wasting the 
 candles. 
 
 Q. — Who were the persons that 
 made all, and sold all, that bought all 
 and lost all ? A. — A smith made an 
 awl and sold it to a shoemaker, who 
 lost it. 
 
 Q. — Why doth a dog turn round 
 three times before he lieth down ? 
 A. — Because he knoweth not his bed's 
 head from the foot, thereof. 
 
 Q. — What is the worst bestowed 
 charity that one can give ? A. — Alms 
 to a blind man ; for he would he glad 
 to see the person hanged that gave it 
 to him. 
 
 §.— What is the age of a field- 
 mouse ? A. — A year. And the age 
 of a hedgehog is three times that of a 
 mouse, and the life of a dog is three 
 times that of a hedgehog, and the life 
 of a horse is three times that of a dog, 
 and the life of a man is three times 
 that of a horse, and the life of a goose 
 is three times that of a man, and the 
 life of a swan is three times that of a 
 goose, and the life of a swallow three 
 times that of a swan, and the life of 
 an eagle three times that of a swallow, 
 and the Hfe of a serpent three times 
 that of an eagle, and the life of a 
 raven is three times that of a serpent, 
 
 and the life of a hart is three times 
 that of a raven, and au oak groweth 
 five hundred years, and i'adetk five 
 hundred years. 
 
 Q. — Which is the broadest water, 
 and least jeopardy to pass over ? A. 
 —The dew. 
 
 §.— What; is that which hath no 
 end ? A. — A bowl. 
 
 Q. — Wliat day in the year are flies 
 most timid? A. — On Palm Sunday, 
 when seeing everybody with palms in 
 their hands, they fear it is to kill them 
 (the flies) with. 
 
 Q. — What three things are they 
 that the world is most maintained by? 
 A — By words, herbs, and stones. 
 With words man worshippetli God; 
 by herbs, i.e. all manner of corn tliat 
 man is fed with ; and by stones — one 
 tliat grindeth the corn, and the other 
 that inoreaseth the world. 
 
 Q. — A man had three daughters, of 
 three ages, to whom he gave certain 
 apples to sell : to the eldest daughter 
 50 apples, to the second 30 apples, 
 and to the youngest 10 apples ; and 
 they all sold the same number for a 
 penny, and brought home the same 
 money; how many did each sell for ai 
 penny ? A. — The youngest sold flrst 
 7 for a penny, and the other two 
 sisters sold at the same rate ; when 
 the eldest sister had one odd apple 
 left, and the second sister two, and 
 the youngest 3 apples; now these 
 apples the buyer liked so well, that he 
 came again to the youngest sister, and 
 bought of her 3 apples,* at 3 pence 
 a-piece, when she had 10 pence ; and 
 the second sister thouglit she would 
 get the same price, and sold her two 
 apples for 3 pence a-piece, when she 
 had 10 pence ; and 1 he eldest sister sold 
 her one apple for 3 pence, when she 
 had 10 pence : thus sold they all tiie 
 same number of apples for a penny, 
 and brought home the same money. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 About Gin, 11. 
 Abaoess, the, 59. 
 Absolute Wisdom, 116. 
 , Addison and Sheridan, 24. 
 Addison and Steele, Friendship of, 82. 
 Aerolite, the, 59. 
 Aifectation chastised, 49. 
 Alban's, St., first Dake of, 38. 
 Albemarle, Duchess of, 43. 
 Alderson, Baron, on Railways, 74. 
 Almack's GambUng Club, 109. 
 Alva, 42. 
 
 Ancestral Squabbles, 36. 
 ■Ancestry ridiculed, 36. 
 Annoyance Letter, 28. 
 Answer, ready, 135. 
 Application, ill-timed, 31. 
 Arctic discovery, 134. 
 Army drunk with champagne, 8. 
 Asparagus, How to eat, 3. 
 Audience iu bed, 146. 
 
 Bacchanalian Songs, 134. 
 
 Ballad-singer, by Hood, 40. 
 
 Bank of Faith, Huntmgton's, 152-155. 
 
 Bankes's Horse, Story of, 59. 
 
 Bam, Large, and tremendous Threshing, 
 
 63.' 
 Barry painting the Adelphi Pictures, 
 
 13L 
 Bate Dudley, 145. 
 Bear, clever, 33. 
 Beefsteak Club, and Captain Morris, 
 
 21, 22. 
 Benefit, Political, 137. 
 Benefit, Theatrical, 135. 
 Bentinck, Lord George, 149. 
 Bemers-street Hoax, 02. 
 Best of the Bad, 68. 
 Bet Flint, 45. 
 Bets, Odd, 17. 
 
 Birmingham Trades-Unionists, 1 40. 
 Birth, Pride of, 35. 
 Birthday, Koyal, 146. 
 
 Black Preacher, 70. 
 
 Blomfield, Bishop, his Fortune, 126. 
 
 Blue-coat Girl, 47. 
 
 Blunders and Bulls, 27. 
 
 Blunders, Irish, 90. 
 
 Bonassus, the, in the Strand, 28. 
 
 Born with a Caul, 69. 
 
 Bottle Conjuror, the, 65, 
 
 Box-hill, burial on, 66. 
 
 Breeches, Leather, Huntington's, 124. 
 
 Brodie, Sir Benjamin, 108. 
 
 Brookes's Club, 109, 110. 
 
 Brougham's Chancellorship predicted, 
 
 107. 
 Brougham and Lyndhurst, 106. 
 Browne, eccentric Sir William, 108. 
 Brunei, Mr., Accident to, 71. 
 Buckhurst, Lord, 37. 
 Buckingham, Duke of, 37. 
 Burials, Eccentric, 66. 
 Button-maker, Valiant, 121. 
 
 Caller, to get rid of, 49. 
 
 Canning and Grattan, 32. 
 
 Canova's jealousy, 42. 
 
 Card Trick, 68. 
 
 Carlisle, Lord, and George Selwyn, 38. 
 
 Carlyle, Jupiter, 15. 
 
 Catalani and Jenny Lind, 42. 
 
 Chair, Adventures of, 72. 
 
 Champagne, head-quarters of, 5. 
 
 Charles II., Kiss from, 16. 
 
 Chesterfield, Lord, his Will, 141. 
 
 Chit-chat, 63. 
 
 Choice, Prudent, 132. 
 
 Christ's Hospital Stories, 48. 
 
 City Scandal, 90. 
 
 Civic Enjoyment, 55. 
 
 Claret-drinking Bout, 10. 
 
 Clarges, Nan, 43. 
 
 Clock Giants, in Fleet-street, 64. 
 
 Cock Tavern, Fleet street, 18. 
 
 Cockneyism, 31. 
 
 Coke, Mr., and Fox, C. J., 137. 
 
162 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Colman at Carlton House, 89. 
 Consolation, 43, 135. 
 Contempt of Court, 140. 
 Cool Tankard, 12. 
 Cooper, Sir Astley, his income, 108. 
 Corner Memoiy Thompson, 143. 
 Cossack Horses, 146. 
 Creditor, Unlucky, 87. 
 Crookford, and his Club-house, 12. 
 CuUoden, Victory of, 117. 
 Curious Case, 43. 
 Curran, Retort by, 132. 
 
 Derby Dilly, 116. 
 
 Dinner, how to preside at, 6. 
 
 Discovery, remarkable, 69. 
 
 Distinction, Cutting, 56, 88. 
 
 Dodd, Dr., Execution of, 62. 
 
 Doncaster Eaces, 147. 
 
 Dream Testimony, 69. 
 
 Drury-lane Theatre in 1 794, 39. 
 
 Ducks, Wild, to catch, 63. 
 
 Duke, odd, 36. 
 
 Dunstan, St., and the Devil, 32. 
 
 Edwards, the Engineer, by Albert 
 
 Smith, 25. 
 Election Ball, 42. 
 Elephant, stage, 39. 
 Epitaph, by Moore, 34. 
 Erasmus and Sir Thomas More, 17. 
 Escape, a close one, 70. 
 Execution of Dr. Dodd, 62. 
 Execution of Lord Ferrers, 60. 
 Exile, Royal, cheating the Spies, 48. 
 Eye, loss of, 41. 
 
 Fall from the Monument, 32, 
 
 Father, happy, 53. 
 
 Ferrers, Lord, Execution of, 60. 
 
 Finality John, 116. 
 
 Fleet-street Clock Giants, 64. 
 
 Foote and Dr. Johnson, 87. 
 
 Foote playing Punch, 86. 
 
 Foote and the Scotch, 87. 
 
 Footiana, 85. 
 
 Foster, modest and lucky, 54. 
 
 Fox, C. J., Recollections of, 108—113. 
 
 Fox, C. J., and the Sensible Woman, 
 
 157. 
 Frith's Railway Station picture, 150. 
 Fun, Olden, 159. 
 
 Gamester, to a, 42. 
 
 Gamester, Reformed, 16. 
 
 Gamp, Mrs., in a Friendly Society, 29. 
 
 Garrick and Dr. Johnson, 123. 
 
 Gasconades, 33. 
 
 Gas-lighting, Early, 30. 
 
 Gentleman, the term, 35. 
 
 George IV., early companions of, 145. 
 
 George IV. and hie Queen, 138. 
 
 Ghost Story, true, 68. 
 
 Gin, Odd Things about, 11. 
 
 Gossip, Delights of, 1. 
 
 Grange, Lord, and his Lady, 24. 
 
 Gray, Thomas, and the Railway, 74. 
 
 Great Men, what they say of each other, 
 
 158, 159. 
 Guildhall Dinner in 1663, 17. 
 Gulliver's Travels, 81. 
 Gully, Mr., 149. 
 
 Ham boiled in Madeira, 2. 
 
 Handsome Family, 37. 
 
 Handsome Tracy, 45. 
 
 Hanger, Col. George, 145. 
 
 Harveys, the Two, 6. 
 
 Harwich Guide, the, 94. 
 
 Hat, the, a gallery episode, 29. 
 
 Haydon, the painter. Anecdotes of, 
 
 129—135. 
 Haydon in Difficulties, 131. 
 Hemp-seed, 54. 
 Herodotus every day, 30. 
 Herrings, Dish of, I. 
 High Life below stairs, 82. 
 Highwayman, Reformed, 143. 
 Historical Painting, Haydon on, 122. 
 Holcroft, Thomas. Tales by, 75, 76, 77. 
 Homage, Doing, 140. 
 Hook improvising, 94. 
 Host, Eccentric, 135. 
 Hundred-guinea Dish, the, 5. 
 Huntington's Bank of Faith, 152 — 155. 
 Huntington, the Coalheaver, 152 — 155. 
 Huntington and his Correspondents, 155. 
 Huntington's Leather-breeches, 124. 
 
 Illdstbations, Odd, 34. 
 Imagination, Efifect of, 67. 
 Irvingiana, 126, 127, 128, 129. 
 
 Jackson, the painter, 130. 
 
 Jekyll and Lord Eldon, 103. 
 
 " Jenny dang the Weaver," 39. 
 
 Jerrold, DougUs, Wit of, 98, 99. 
 
 Jest and Earnest, 97. 
 
 Johnson, Dr., his Night's Festivity, 19. 
 
 Johnson, Dr., and some of his Friends, 
 
 157. 
 Jupiter Carlyle, 15. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 163 
 
 Kenton, Lord, his parsimony, 101. 
 
 Lacrtma Christi and Gin, 11. 
 
 Lamb, Charles, Anecdotes of, 92. 
 
 Laudaray and Calamy, 55. 
 
 Lawyers, Great, 100, 
 
 Leith-hill, burial on, 66. 
 
 Likenesses, a judge of, 50. 
 
 Liveries, .35. 
 
 London Smoke, 130. 
 
 Longitude, the, and Sir Isaac Newton, 
 
 42. 
 Lost and Found, 57. 
 Love-letter, the, 72. 
 Lucky Fellow, 36. 
 
 Madeira, famous Pipe of, 7. 
 
 Manager, learned, 90. 
 
 Mauliana : Anecdotes of Judge Maule, 
 
 104, 105, 106. 
 May Fair Marriage, 45. 
 May Fair, Strong Lady of, 142. 
 Medical Fees, 107. 
 Memory, an Old Man's, 124. 
 Memory-men, 86. 
 Merry Andrew, 89. 
 Ministerial Fish-dinner, 22. 
 Ministers resigning, 141. 
 Miscalculation, odd, 42. 
 Mistake, cutting, 134. 
 Mistake, slight, 55. 
 
 Morgan, Lady, and her Publishers, 136. 
 Morris, Capt., his Songs, 21. 
 
 Neighboub, a strange one, 47. 
 
 Nelson's Arm, 118. 
 
 Nelson, -who shot the man that killed 
 
 himi 118. 
 Nelson .ind Wellington meeting, 118. 
 Night's Festivity, 19. 
 Nobility, Honourable, 133. 
 Norburiana, 104. 
 
 North, Lord, good-humoured, 114. 
 North, Lord, and C. J. Fox, 111. 
 North Pole, the, 97. 
 Not infectious, 134. 
 Note, a memorable one, 156. 
 
 OCDLIST, Quack, 44. 
 
 Odd Prompting, 56. 
 
 Old Q., 46. 
 
 Oldfield, Mrs., in her coffin, 30. 
 
 Othello, Russian, 66. 
 
 Oyster- Feast, Colchester, 2. 
 
 Oyster, the First eaten, 2. 
 
 Page, Stories of, 133. 
 
 Palmerston, Lord, and Haydon, 131. 
 
 Palmerston, Lord, and Poi-t Wine, 7. 
 
 Pamphlet, a dear one, 121. 
 
 Panton-street, origin of, 16. 
 
 Partisan, a troublesome one, 156. 
 
 Patron, Worth of, 130. 
 
 Peas, green, early, 3. 
 
 Peerage, 35. 
 
 Perseverance, 24. 
 
 Pickpockets, School for, 49. 
 
 Pike Story, 2. 
 
 Pitt, Mr., his love of Port Wine, 8. 
 
 Pitt's Patronage, 113. 
 
 Pitt, Statue of, 113. 
 
 Plate, Recovery of, 58. 
 
 Political Nicknames, 116. 
 
 Poor Mau-o'-Mutton, 3. 
 
 Poraon's Drinking, 21. 
 
 Port Wine, history of, 6. 
 
 Poulterer and the Prince, 50. 
 
 Pozzo di Borgo, Anecdotes of, 115. 
 
 Prediction unfulfilled, 52. 
 
 Predictions realized, 130. 
 
 Prosperity Robinson, 116. 
 
 Punning Epigram, 31. 
 
 Punning in French and Latin, 31. 
 
 Quack Doctor, 89. 
 Quack Oculist, 44. 
 
 Queensbury, Duke of. Anecdotes of, 
 46. 
 
 Races, Doncaster, pictures of, 147. 
 Race- horses, English, 146. 
 Radical, how to settle, 116. 
 Rag Fair stories, 49. 
 Railway, invention of the, 73. 
 Railway Station picture, by Frith, 160, 
 
 151, 152. 
 Rank and Breeding, 34. 
 Rat has got into the Bottle, 121. 
 Reading in Bed, 87. 
 Reading a Play, 136. 
 Relics and Memorials, curious, 67. 
 Repentance, Tower of, 15. 
 Resource, happy, 88. 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 130. 
 Rhubarb, dressing, 4. 
 Righteousness, Saving, 126. 
 Rochester, a physician, 30. 
 Rogers, Samuel, his Memory, 124. 
 Rogers, Samuel, his recollections of Fox, 
 
 112, 113. 
 Romilly, Sir Samuel, 100. 
 
164 
 
 Eotlischilds, the, 51. 
 Ruling Passion, 24, 136. 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Salutation Tavern, 18. 
 
 Sandwich, 47. 
 
 Seal, the Great, 103. 
 
 Sensible Woman, the, 157. 
 
 Shark story, 58. 
 
 Sheridan's Borrowings, 90. 
 
 Sheridan's Portrait, 90. 
 
 Sidmouth, Lord, " the Doctor," 115. 
 
 Simplicity, 133. 
 
 Smith, Albert, 25, 134. 
 
 Smith, Elizabeth, 59. 
 
 Smith, Sydney, at home, 95. 
 
 Smith, Sydney, by Earl Eussell, 97. 
 
 Smokers, celebrated, 12, 15. 
 
 Snipe story, 59, 
 
 Soldier of Fortune, 138. 
 
 Somersets, the Proud, 37. 
 
 Soramers, Will, the Jester, 39. 
 
 Soyer, Alexis, the cwisinier, 4. 
 
 Spanish Pride, 35. 
 
 Speech, Royal, by Candlelight, 22. 
 
 Spunge, Mr., a portrait, 5. 
 
 Stage- Coachmen, Noted, 144. 
 
 Stephens, Mrs., and Cure for the Stone, 
 
 58. 
 Stock-doves, 135. 
 Stolen Gains, 15. 
 
 Stowell, Lord, his love of Sights, 103. 
 Success and Failure, 133. 
 Sudney, Sir, the Great, 96, 
 Sweeps' Holidayat Montague Hou3e,63. 
 Swift's Irony, 80. 
 Swift's Puns and Proverbs, 81. 
 Swiftiana, 79, 80. 
 Sykes, Sir Tatton, 149. 
 
 Tailoks burlesqued, 40, 41, 
 Tales of Ten-or, 75, 76, 77. 
 
 Talkers, Good, 34. 
 
 Talkers, two Great, 134. 
 
 Talleyrand, and the Wellesley Family, 
 
 122, 
 Talleyrand's Wit and Humour, 95. 
 Taxation, 43, 
 Tenterden, Lord, 101. 
 Terror, Stories of, 75, 76, 77, 
 Tobacco and Smokers, 12. 
 Tom D'Urfey, Sketch of, 77. 
 Tooke, Horue, his Humour, 50, 87. 
 Turf, patrons of the, 148. 
 
 Vauxhall Gardens, in 1750, 19. 
 Village Politicians, Wilkie's, 130. 
 Voltaire's Letters, 82. 
 Voltaire inLove, 84, 
 Vulture Hopkins, the miser, 46. 
 
 Wade's (Marshal) House, 47. 
 
 Walpole at Vauxhall Gardens, 19. 
 
 Wandering Poets, 123. 
 
 Wassail- bowl. How to make, 17. 
 
 Water-melon, worth of, 4. 
 
 Wellington and the Waterloo Campaign, 
 120, 
 
 Wellington predicts the Peninsular Cam- 
 paign, 119. 
 
 Wellingtoniana, 120. 
 
 Whitebait Dinner, Ministerial, 22, 
 
 Wilkie and Haydon, Anecdotes of, 129. 
 
 Wilkes's Swinging, 118, 
 
 William IV, knighting Wilkie, 129. 
 
 Window-tax, the, 156. 
 
 Wine, choosing, 8. 
 
 Wit of Douglas Jerold, 98, 99. 
 
 Witticisms, French, 79. 
 
 Wolfe, Gen,, and Lord Chatham, 17. 
 
 Woman, old, a knowing one, 42. 
 
 Word, painful, 134. 
 
 Savill and Edwards, PrinterB, Chandos Street, Covent Garden. 
 
LIFE EDTJCATION. 
 
 "Eduoatioa is the art which teaches men how to live." 
 
 Now ready, in small 8»o, 3«. 6i. cloth. 
 
 Things to be Remembered in 
 Daily Life. 
 
 By JOHN TIMES, E.S.A., 
 Author of " Things not Generally Known." 
 
 The object of this work is to illastrate, in a popular and inviting manner, that 
 rational Education which best befits men for their passage through life. " The 
 real truth is, that the education of a sensible and intelligent man continues to 
 the latest day of his existence ; for there is no day of a man's life, there is no 
 period of his activity, in which, if his mind is alive, — if he keeps his ears and 
 his eyes open to impressions and observations, — he will not be continually 
 adding to the stock of his ideas and his thoughts, and in which he will not add 
 to his store of knowledge,- and increase that information which is useful to 
 him both here and hereafter. It has been said that the proper definition of 
 Education is, that it is the art which teaches men how to live ; and if that be a 
 true definition, it confirms what has just been said, that a man learns better 
 and better how to live by the experience of every day that passes over his 
 head." — Address of Viscount Palmerston, on his Installation as Lord Rector of 
 the University of Glasgow, March 30, 1863. 
 
 It is to this class of information and experience that the atfention of the 
 reader is invited in Things to be Remembered in Daily Life ; and to render the 
 work more directly of practical application, the Sketches of Character which it 
 contains have been drawn in great measure from our own. time, so as to give 
 the book a current interest. 
 
 GENEEAL CONTENTS. 
 
 Time: 
 
 Poetry of Time. 
 
 Time, Past, Present, and Future. 
 
 Measurement of Time. 
 
 gun-dials and the Hour-glass. 
 
 Celebrated Clocks and Watches. 
 
 Early Bising. 
 
 Art of Employing Time. 
 
 Value of Method. 
 
 Habits of the Great Duke of Wellington. 
 
Things to he Sememhered in Daily Life. 
 
 GENERAL COSTEST%— continued. 
 
 Life and Length or Days: 
 First Twenty years of Life. 
 
 ■\Miat is a Generation? 
 Average Duration of Life. 
 
 Wliat 18 Memory ? 
 
 Consolation in Growing Old. 
 
 Historic Traditions throug-h Few Links. 
 
 Longevity in Families. 
 
 Longevity and Localities. 
 
 Longevity of Classes. 
 
 Future Earthly Existence of the Human 
 
 Bace. 
 
 The School of Life: 
 
 "What is Education ? 
 
 Teaching Young Children. 
 
 Education at Home. 
 
 Business of Education. 
 
 Classical Education. 
 
 School Beform. 
 
 Unsound Teaching. 
 
 Self-Formation. " Cramming." 
 
 Mathematics. Aristotle. 
 
 Geology in Education. 
 
 The best Education. 
 
 Books for the Toung. 
 
 Dictionary English. What is Argument ? 
 
 English Style. Art of Writing. 
 
 BnSINESS-LlFE : 
 
 Want of a Pursuit. Worth of Energy. 
 
 Choice of a Profession. 
 
 Official Life and Qualifications. 
 
 Public Speakinf^. — Contemporary Orators. 
 
 Men of Business. Security of Character. 
 
 Eminent Engineers and Mechanicians. 
 
 Scientific Farming. 
 
 How Large Fortunes are made. 
 
 Civic Worthies of the Present Century. 
 
 Working Author.1 and Artists. 
 
 Wear and Tear of Public Life. 
 
 Home Tkaits: 
 
 Love of Home. Family Portraits. 
 
 How to Keep Friends. 
 
 The Spirit of the Age: 
 
 Progress of Knowledge. 
 
 Time and Improvement. 
 
 Evil Influences. Worldly Morality. 
 
 Speaking the Truth. 
 
 Bestlessness and Enterprise. 
 
 Marvels of the Universe. 
 
 World-Knoiveedge : 
 
 Predictions of Success. 
 
 Management of Time. 
 
 Ease of Mind. The Good Man's Life. 
 
 Also, Anecdotical Exemplifications from the Lives of 
 
 Albert, Prince Consort. 
 
 Baron Alderson. 
 
 Charles Babbage. 
 
 Francis Baily , the astron omer. 
 
 Sir Edward Banks. 
 
 Sir John Barrow. 
 
 Jeremy Bentham. 
 
 Lord George Bentinck. 
 
 George Bidder, the engineer. 
 
 Alderman Birch. 
 
 Thomas Brassey, 
 
 John Brittou. 
 
 Sir Benjamin Brodie. 
 
 Lord Brougham. 
 
 The two Brunels, engineers. 
 
 Lord Byron. 
 
 Chantrey, the sculptor. 
 
 Lord Chatham. 
 
 Henry Colburn. 
 
 Coleridge, the poet. 
 
 Sir John Coleridge. 
 
 Sir Astley Cooper. 
 
 Thomas and William Cubitt. 
 
 Sir Humphry Davy. 
 
 The two Denisons. 
 
 Isaac and Benjamin Disraeli. 
 
 Charles James Fox. 
 
 Caroline Herschel. 
 
 Sir John Herschel. 
 
 Theodore Hook. 
 
 Hudson, " the Railway King.' 
 
 Viecountess Keith. 
 
Things to he Rememhered in Daily Life. 
 
 GENERAL CONTENTS— condiweci. 
 
 Alderman Kell^. 
 
 The late Marquis of Lansdowne. 
 
 Miss Linwood. 
 
 The Earl of Lirerpool, 
 
 Joseph Locke, the engineer. 
 
 Lord Mayors of the Tresent Century. 
 
 Sir Bulwer Lytton. 
 
 Lord Macaulay. 
 
 Baron Maseres. 
 
 Alderman Mechi. 
 
 Hannah More. 
 
 James Morison. 
 
 James Morrison, M.P. 
 
 Lord Nelson. 
 
 Parry, the Arctic discoverer. 
 
 Sir Eobert Peel. 
 
 Sir Eichard Phillips. 
 
 Alderman Sir John Pirie. 
 
 Et. Hon. William Pitt. 
 
 John Eennie. 
 
 Samuel Eogers, the banker-poet. 
 
 Et. Hon. George Eose. 
 
 Dr. Eouth, Oxford. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 Sir James Shaw. 
 
 Sir John Sinclair. 
 
 The Eev. Sydney Smith. 
 
 Eobert Southey. 
 
 Earl Stanhope. 
 
 Stephensons, the engineers. 
 
 Thomas Stothard, E.A. 
 
 William and Andrew Strahan. 
 
 Telford, the engineer. 
 
 W. M. Thackeray. 
 
 Charles Tilt. 
 
 Alderman Waithman, 
 
 James Walker, the engineer. 
 
 The Great Duke of Wellington. 
 
 Professor Wilson. 
 
 Alderman Wire. 
 
 Alderman Sir Matthew Wood. 
 
 CEITICAL OPINIONS OF THE ABOVE WORK. 
 
 1. " Another of Mr. Timbs's useful books. It is full of information, carefully compiled. 
 Anecdotes are interspersed, bearing happily upon each topic." — London Uevieia. 
 
 2. " Mr. Timbs's personal experiences and recollections are peculiarly valuable, as 
 embodying the observations of an acute, intelligent, and cultivated mind. As a 
 companion to Things not Generally Known, by the same painstaking author. Tilings to be 
 Eemembered must certainly become equally popular. More reflective, and more original, 
 and not less truthful in its deductions, Tilings to be Remembered carries with it an air 
 of vitality which augurs well for perpetuation. It cannot fail to find many grateful 
 readers." — Observer. 
 
 3. " Thirujs to be Ttemenibered is crammed with information, and written with con- 
 secutiveness, care, and sometimes real eloquence. Equally interesting and instructive 
 with its predecessor. Things not Generally Kmmm, the present Things to be Remem- 
 bered is much more reflective in its character, and will most likely possess a special 
 charm for many readers on this account. It has our most cordial commendation." — 
 Sunday Times. 
 
 4. " A very good little book of its kind." — Globe. 
 
 5. " The present volume is fuUy equal to any of its predecessors in point of varied in- 
 terest." — Bookseller. 
 
Tilings to he Remembered in Daily Life. 
 
 CRITICAL OPINIONS— co«;irttte(i. 
 
 6 . " This is essentially a book to be taken up in the hours between business, when a man 
 desires to philosophize in a small way." — Literary TiTnes. 
 
 7. '* A pleasant companion, and the number of useful hints it contains should make every 
 reader grateful to the painstaking and thoug:htful compiler. It is an excellent present for 
 young people, or town lending--libraries." — The Era. 
 
 8. *' Mr. Timbs's volume may be found a useful companion to a distressed litUrateur who 
 wants an opening anecdote for an article upon the last social topic of the day." — 
 Parthenon. 
 
 9. " This is perhaps the most reflective of all Mr. Timbs's many useful books. We have 
 no doubt that as a companion volume to Things not Generally Known^ this of Things to 
 he Remembered in Daily Life will be as popularly received as its predecessor. We cor- 
 dially recommend the book." — The Builder. 
 
 10. " The various topics in this work are pleasantly handled, and there are few readers 
 who may not find something to inform them as well as instruct them ; many curious 
 anecdotes of celebrities, past and present, being skilfully interwoven with the aphorisms 
 and general reflections." — Gentleman's Magazine: 
 
 11. "Mr. Timbs's compilations have met with so much success that we have little doubt 
 but that a similar reception awaits this new volume from his pen ; there is a great deal 
 of useful matter condensed in a small compass." — Illustrated London N'ews. 
 
 12. "Here we have our indefatigable friend pouring out the contents of his well-fiUed note- 
 books, and richly-stored memory, upon those vast themes, Time and Human Life, which, 
 as he well observes, are " g:reat matters for so small a book." And, while Mr. Timbs 
 claims for this volume the merit of being more reflective than its predecessors, those who 
 read it will add to that merit — that it is equally instructive." — A'otes and Queries. ._ 
 
 13. "Each section of this work is crowded with facts, anecdotes, and reflections. The 
 volume may be taken up again and again, and each time something will be found that 
 ^vill interest and instruct. The aged will find in it, dressed in agreeable garb, much that 
 they have before met with in an extended field of reading ; the young will peruse it with 
 pleasure and profit." — City Press. 
 
 14. " Of all the contributions to collected and condensed literature for which the public is 
 indebted to Mr. Timbs, this little volume will, probably, be the favourite. The author 
 sets down many of the results of the experience of a long life, in which truthful obser- 
 vation has been the cardinal aim. In the sections devoted to " The School of Life," and 
 " The Spirit of the Age," the calm and mature judgment, and the sound common sense of 
 the writer, render his precepts practical and valuable. . . No portion of this book is 
 without value, and several biographical sketches which it contains are of great interest. 
 .... Things to he Pememhered in Daily Life is a valuable and memorable book, and 
 represents great research, and considerable and arduous labour." — Morning Post. 
 
 LOjS'DON : W. KENT AND CO., PATERNOSTER ROW; and 
 LOCEWOOD AND CO., STATIONERS' HALL COURT. 
 
Just published, with an Emblematic Frontispiece, 5s. cloth. 
 
 Mysteries of Life, Death, 
 and Futurity. 
 
 lilustrattb from i\t '§td mH laltst §.ut^orit«s. 
 By HORACE WELBY. 
 
 LITEBAEY OPINIONS. 
 
 " It is a great deal to be able to say in favour of this book that we have discovered 
 nothing in it which can oflfend or annoy a member of any Christian denomination ; and 
 that many of tlie quotations are not only valuable in themselves, but have been collected 
 from sources not easily accessible to the general reader. Not a few of the chapters are, 
 however, Mr. Welby's own composition, and these are, for the most part, thoughtfully and 
 carefully written." — From the Critic. 
 
 " The author and compiler of this work is evidently a largely-read and deep-thinking 
 man. . . . It is a handbook of reference, to be accepted without opinion as to its written 
 merits, by one willing to talk of exoteric things, and for its plentiful suggestiveness alone 
 it should meet vrith kindly and grateful acceptance. It is a pleasant, dreamy, charming, 
 startling little volume, every page of which sparkles like a gem in an antique setting."— 
 Weekly Dispatch. 
 
 *' This book is the result of extensive reading, and careful noting : it is such a common- 
 place book as some thoughtful divine or physician might have compiled, gathering together 
 a vast variety of opinions and speculations bearing on physiology, the phenomena of life, 
 and the nature and future existence of the soul. With these are blended facts, anecdotes, 
 personal traits of character, and well-grounded arguments, with the one guiding intention 
 of strengthening the Christian's faith with the thoughts and conclusions of the great and 
 good of the earth. Mr. Horace Welby has brought together a mass of matter that might 
 be sought in vain through the most extensive library ; and we know of no work that so 
 strongly compels reflection, and so well assists it." — London Review. 
 
 "This closely-printed volume, with its thousand-and-one references to the works and 
 opinions of our best and greatest writers, is not inferior, as an interesting literary curi- 
 osity, to the famous ' Anatomy of Melancholy." In justice to Mr. "Welby, we may add, 
 that no religious scruples are likely to be outraged in his pages." — Oriental Budget. 
 
 " Nothing but what is orthodox." — Spectator. 
 
 " It is astonishing what a mass of facts, anecdotes, personal traits of character, and 
 well-grounded opinions is brought together in this volume." — Illustrated London News. 
 
 " It is very difficult to give. In our limited space, any adequate idea of the variety of 
 curious topics which the ingenuity of Mr. Welby has gathered together. He appears to 
 have read much, and to have well digested what he has read." — Notes and Queries. 
 
 "The scoffer might read these pages to his profit, and the pious believer will be 
 charmed with them. Burton's ' Anatomy of Melancholy' is a fine suggestive book, and 
 full of learning ; and of the volume before us we are inchned to speak in the same 
 terms." — The Era. 
 
 " A valuable array of the best thoughts, impressions, and beliefs. Thoughtful minds, 
 with the most delicate nerves, may turn these pages over and over, and always find some 
 information at once attractive and valuable." — Illustrated Times. 
 
 [Geneeai Contekis. 
 
Mysteries of Life, Death, and Futurity. 
 
 GENERAL CONTENTS. 
 
 ■What is Lite. 
 The Author of our Being — The Divine 
 Eternity — The Divine Perfections— Change- 
 bearing Laws in Nature — The ^Mosaic and 
 Geologic Creation — Origin of Life — Dar- 
 Trin's Theory — Unity of the Human Race — 
 The Embryo under the Microscope — The 
 Development Theory — Chemistry cannot 
 create an Organism — lilan and his Dwell- 
 ing-place —Plurality of Worlds — Vital Prin- 
 ciple of Animals and Vegetables — Chain 
 of Being — The Kingdoms of Nature — Num- 
 bers in Nature — Adaptation of Colour to 
 the Wants of the Animal — The Tree of 
 Life — Eve's Apple-tree — How Cain Killed 
 Abel — Family Likenesses — Average of Hu- 
 man Life — Space and Time — Climacterics- 
 Curious Statistical Results — Life Assurance 
 — Sir W. Hamilton on Phrenology — Con- 
 sumption and Longevity — Man's Proper 
 Place in Creation. 
 
 Nature of the Soul. 
 On the Soul, by the Ancients — The im- 
 prisoned Soul — The Soul and the Magnetic 
 Needle— Symbols of the Soul — Personality 
 of God — Pre-existence of Souls — Transmi- 
 g;ration of Souls. 
 
 Spiritual Life. 
 Spiritual Eeclamation — " Excelsior" — 
 Notions of Angels — Spiritual Natures — 
 Permanent Impressions by Spiritual Powers 
 ^Materialism aud Spiritualism — Personal 
 Identity — Mesmerism and Somnambulism 
 — Clairvoyance. 
 
 Mental Opekations. 
 Mind and Body — Mental Processes of 
 which we are Unconscious — The Voltaic 
 Battery and Electric Light. 
 
 Brain of Man. 
 A Galvanized Human Body— Changes in 
 the Nervous System— Working of the Brain 
 "What is Memoiy ? — How does the Func- 
 tion of Memory take place?— Persistence 
 
 of Impressions — Value of Memory — Regis- 
 tration — Decay of Memory — Intuitions of 
 the Mind — What is Genius — Mental Ab- 
 straction — Effect of Emotion on the Intel- 
 lect — Melancholy or Poetic Feeling — Gay 
 Melancholy — Insane Impulses — Keep the 
 Brain fallow in Childhood — Perverted 
 Reason — What is Madness ? — Intellectu- 
 ality and Insanity — How the Egyptians 
 treated their Insane — Operations of Mind — 
 Discipline of the Intellect — The Child 
 Father to the Man — Life not greater than 
 its Reflex. 
 
 Belief and Scepticism. 
 What is Faith ? — What is Revelation ? — 
 Childish Desires — ■ Weak Belief — Real 
 Growth — Experience Fallible — Intolerance 
 and Unbelief — How Men become Sceptics 
 — Infidelity Irrational — Confessions of 
 Sceptics — Materiahsm of the Development 
 Theory — Combustion — the Metempsy- 
 chosis. 
 
 What is Superstition? 
 " To Die Childless" — " Thirteen to Din- 
 ner" — What is Chaoce ? 
 
 Premature Interment. 
 Several curious Cases of Trance. 
 
 Phenomena of Death. 
 Hours Fatal to Life — Premonitions of 
 Death — Death of Lord Lyttelton — Death 
 of Archbishop Leighton — Old Age and 
 Death — Death at Will — Sleep and Death — 
 Does the Sonl Sleep ? — Condition of the 
 Ancients at the Point of Death — Man's 
 Reluctance to Think of God — State of Mind 
 preceding Death — How Man Dies — Death 
 from Heart Disease — Broken Hearts — The 
 Death-bed, by Owen Feltham — Death-bed 
 Repentance — Last Moments and Words of 
 Distinguished Persons — The Soul Going 
 Forth from the Body — The Passing Bell — 
 Beauty of Death — Grief for the Dead — In- 
 terference of the Dead with the Living — 
 Death Customs — Antiquity of Burial Clubs 
 
Mysteries of Life, Death, and Futurity. 
 
 GENERAL CONTENTS 
 — " God's Acre " — Emblems on Tombs — 
 Antiseptic Burial Soils — Decay of the Hu- 
 man Body — Emblem of the Resurrection — 
 Flowers on Graves. 
 
 Sin and Punishment. 
 TheEarliest Sin— The Great Sin — Special 
 Providences — Nemesis, or Retribution — 
 Representations of " the Devil" — Picture of 
 Hell — Utter Darkness — The Wheel of 
 Eternal Punishment. 
 
 The Ceucihxion of Ode Lord. 
 The Crucifixion — Knowledge of God be- 
 fore the Time of Christ — " Christ the Moral 
 Saviour." 
 
 The End of the Wobld. 
 Epidemic Terrors — Geological Future of 
 the Universe. 
 
 Man after Death. 
 The Dead Know not Anything — Prayers 
 for the Dead — Condition of Man after 
 Death — "To the Holy Spirit"— Life after 
 death — Reunion of the Soul and Body. 
 
 The Intermediate State. 
 What is the Intermediate State — Opi- 
 nions as to the State of the Dead — Paradise 
 and Heaven — Heathen Philosophy of the 
 Immortality of the Soul — That Man must 
 be immortal. 
 
 The Christian Resurrection. 
 The Resurrection — Resurrection of the 
 same Body. 
 
 The Future States. 
 The Day of Judgment — Happiness of 
 the Blessed. 
 
 The Recognition of each other by 
 
 THE Beessed. 
 
 Opinions of Bishops King and Mant — 
 
 David, St. Paul, the Transfiguration, 
 
 Lazarus in Abraham's Bosom — Ulysses, 
 
 ■continued, 
 Achilles, Agamemnon, Antigone, Darius, 
 Socrates — iBneas and Anchises, Cicero — 
 American chiefs, Hindoos, Kings of Daho- 
 mey and Guinea — Love of the Dead — 
 Cyprian at Carthago — Translation of Enoch 
 — "Marriages are made in Heaven" — " Busi- 
 ness of the Saints in Heaven" — The New 
 Heavens and the Earth — Abodes of the 
 Blest. 
 
 Adversaria. 
 Study of the Bible — Serpent Worship — 
 Symbolical Figures from Nineveh — Evi- 
 dences of Christianity: Changes in Opinion — 
 Christian Revelation, why first given to the 
 West — The Holy Thorn at Glastonbury — 
 The Christian Mission — The True Course of 
 Christian Life — True and False Buddhism — 
 Platonic Love — Platonism and Christianity 
 — Religion happily adapted to the Mind ol 
 Man — Power of Religion over Difficulties — 
 Attributes of the Deity — Dr. South on 
 Atheism — Preparing for another World — 
 Remoteness of Universal Christianity — 
 Eternal Punishment — Boyish or Manly 
 Happiness, which preferable ? — God's An- 
 cient People — Latin or Mediaeval Chris- 
 tianity — Origin of the Litany — Vital Force. 
 What is Materialism ? — Mysteries and 
 Miracles. 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress. 
 The Authorship — John Bunyan's Vindi- 
 cation — Dr. Adam Clarke — "Voyage of the 
 Wandering Knight" — Bunyan's Escapes. 
 
 Appendix. 
 Traditional Anecdotes, Customs, &c. — 
 Lambton Family Tradition—Lord Bacon's 
 Dream — Mrs. Hemans's Last Sonnet— 
 Chartley Tradition — Lord Chesterfield — 
 Dr. Johnson on Death; Latin Hymn — 
 Captain Kidd and Lord Byron — Griraaldi's 
 Dread of Friday — Death at Cawnpore — 
 Watching for the Dead — Dirge by Dr. 
 Faber — Literary History of Madmen. 
 
 LONDON: W. KENT AND CO., PATEENOSTEE EOW; and 
 LOCKWOOD AND CO., STATIONEEb' HALL COURT. 
 
THE MYSTIC WORLD. 
 
 This day, with a Frontispiece, 5s. cloth, 
 
 Predictions Realized in 
 Modern Times. 
 
 NOW FIRST COLLECTED 
 
 BY HORACE WELBY. 
 Author of " Mysteries of Life, Death, and Euturlty.'' 
 
 *«* This volume is the result of long-continued attention on the part of the Author and 
 Compiler to the Realization of Predictions recorded in the wide field of History, as well as 
 in the by-ways and paths remote from the great spheres of human action. The substance 
 of the book may be designated as History Anticipated in modern instances, arranged iu 
 chronological sequence, of striking character, as well as of useful tendency in teaching by 
 example. The comprehensive term Prediction is applied here in its widest sense — of pro- 
 phecy, prog-nostication, foreboding, and divination. 
 
 The first section is devoted to " Days and Numbers, and treats of Good and Evil Days, 
 and Lucky and Unlucky Numbers," by examples. Tliis is followed by a chapter on Pro- 
 PKESTiNG Almanacks, which is mainly antiquarian; then comes a history of Omens ; 
 and to this succeed the Historical Predictions, which, commencing in the 15th cen- 
 tury of British History, are brought down to the evenls of the present day. The next 
 section relates to tht; Predictions of the French Revolution ; and the next to that 
 is entitled the Bonaparte Family, as they were connected with presentiments of fore- 
 tellings. The chapter on Discoveries and Inventions Anticipated is a record of 
 curious significance; the subject of Scripture Prophecies is touched on ; and the work 
 is closed with a selection of Providences, Judgments, Coincidences, and other striking oc- 
 currences. 
 
 LITERAHY OPINIONS. 
 
 "This is an odd but attractive volume, compiled from various and often little known 
 sources, and is full of amusing reading." — The Critic. 
 
 " A volume containing a variety of cui-ious and startling narratives on many points of 
 supernaturalism, well calculated to gratify that love of the marvellous which is more or j 
 less inherent in us all." — Notes and Queries. I 
 
 *' These coincidences, or reahzations of predictions, are very curious; and the collection, i 
 which is creditable to the author and compiler, will be read with no small degree of: 
 interest." — Observer. \ 
 
 "An extremely curious, well -collected, and remarkable book ; we could not recommend 
 a more amusing work." — Court Journal. 
 
 "■ Each anecdote or quotation from a past writer presents a remarkable instance of . 
 historical predictions, discoveries and inventions anticipated, &c." — Publisher's Circular. ' 
 
 " There is nothing in this book calculated to alarm the nicest feelings, or to repel the 
 most serious reader ; it is an excellent book of its kind." — Illustrated London. News. 
 
 " There is scarcely a man among us who has not at the bottom of his heart some super- 
 stition ; any book which appeals to this tendency to credulity is sure of readers, and 
 hundreds of sensible people will lay down Mr. Welby's compilation with a vague sensation 
 that there is something in it after all ; it is a collection of all the stories current in modern 
 literature of fulfilled predictions, some of them very remarkable." — Spectator. 
 
 LONDON: W. KENT AND CO., PATERNOSTER ROW; and 
 LOCKWOOD AND CO., STATIONERS' HALL COURT.