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the Esquimaux at the North Pole, "dark heathens:" I answered, not entirely so, because their whale blubber supplied them with oil for lamps. Mr. Smedley Jones stared at this, and added, that his meaning was that they were poor unenlightened wanderers. I rejoined, "True, but that's Apollo's fault!" Finding that he had a neighbour who was not to be dealt with metaphorically, he changed his course, and began to dilate upon his family-affairs, and informed me that his brother George was a clerk in the Post-office, where he expressed a hope that Mr. Freeling would push him. Finding, upon enquiry, that his brother George lodged at the last house in Cecil Street, which overlooks the mud-bank of the river Thames, I answered, "I hope he will." I was then informed that Mr. Smedley Jones's brother Richard was a clerk in the brewhouse of Sweetwort and Company; the junior partner of which establishment," sitting under the same minister" at Hoxton, had promised to push him. Finding that Sweetwort and Company were celebrated for their large vat, I again said, "I hope they will," which procured for me one of those amiable chin-dropping bows, which I have already depicted. "For myself," continued my juvenile companion with the antique bust, "I have a clerk who is a cousin to one of the judges, who goes the home circuit next assizes; he knows something of the high sheriff, and that kind-hearted and noble personage (Mr. Smedley Jones is not sparing of adjectives to benefactors in esse or en passe) has promised to push me"-"Neck and heels out of court, into the High Street," thought I, "or his javelin-man will not be of my mind." A Captain Smithers, with a dull eye and a drawling voice, now offered his snuff-box to Mr. Smedley Jones; this the latter declined, with another of those amiable bows, to which I have faintly endeavoured to do justice; and turning to me, observed that snuff-taking was a bad habit for a young man. "At all events," answered I, "he should wear a bad habit, or Scotch rappee will make it one." "Not but what I carry a box myself," continued Mr. Smedley Jones,with a look that he meant for arch-" here it is :" so saying, he pulled out of his coat-pocket an oblong box, with an amber lid. "May I perish," thought I, "if it does not come from Geneva. We shall now be pestered with the regular orthodox series of quadrille tunes." this machine had interrupted conversation for the usual period, and had "said its say," I was in hopes that we had done with it: "But soft! by regular approach-not yet." It was again wound up, and again set a-going, to gratify little Theobald Spinsuit, who had bolted into the dining-room in quest of an orange. These little attentions gratify mothers, and are apt to procure the perpetrator a second invitation to dinner.

There now ensued a regular struggle between Mr. Smedley Jones's tongue and my taciturnity. He is one of those civil young men who must speak to their neighbours, whether they have any thing to communicate or not. I was accordingly asked what I thought of the Catholic Question. I had entertained no thoughts upon the subject. "Indeed!" was the reply. The next interrogatory to which I was subjected, was "Who was the Author of Junius?" I protested that I had never given the matter a moment's reflection. This, however, did not stop the subject, and I was condemned to listen to the usual harangue, with the words "Sir Philip Francis, Lord Chatham, Lord Shelburn, bound

copy at bankers, and tall man at letter box"-emphasized after the accustomed manner. Then followed the banking system of Scotland, the Rev. Edward Irving, (whose watch I fear is still in pawn;) the death of the dowager Empress of Russia, Craneoscopy, and Tooke on Currency. All which topics were by me, jointly and severally, returned ignoramus. Mr. Smedley Jones's battery here suffered a momentary pause: whereupon "Thinks I to myself!" now for my turn. "Since Nature has clapped an old head upon his young shoulders, Art shall insert a young head between my old ones. Fifty-one shall start the topics which twenty-one ought to have discussed." Accordingly I asked Mr. Smedley Jones, to his no small dismay, what he thought of Mrs. Humby's Cherry Ripe and the Lover's Mistake. I took it for granted that he had seen Paul Pry on horseback, at Astley's Amphitheatre. I animadverted upon Madame Pasta's Medea: was sorry that Signora Garcia had picked up a Yankee husband: mentioned that I had seen Sir Thomas Beevor and Cobbett, in Saint Paul's Church-yard, in the character of the Goose and Gridiron : wondered why Potier came to the French theatre in Tottenham-street; and asked him if he could tell me what had become of Delia. Nor did I not regret that Miss M. Tree, had changed her situation, and taken to enact plays at Florence, in lieu of operas at Covent-Garden. It is thus that extremes produce each other. If twenty-one monopolizes all the sense at the dinnertable, fifty-one must take to the nonsense or hold its tongue. "Sir," said the moralist of Bolt-court, upon an occasion somewhat similar, "he talked of the origin of evil, whereupon I withdrew my attention, and thought of Tom Thumb." I fear that Smedley Jones has by this time become almost as wearisome to the reader at second hand, as he was originally to the writer. I shall therefore conclude with this observation :-All monsters ought to be smothered: and wherever Nature puts an old head upon young shoulders, the sooner the one is knocked off the other the better.

HYMN TO THE MOON.

"Incessu patuit Dea."

THY port bespeaks thee Goddess, though uncrowned;
Like Naiad wanderer, from some lake-built bower
Launching thy bark through heaven's bright surf and shower,
And making graceful vaunt of kindliest power.-

The vapours, dolphin-like, do crowd, and bound,

Showing their changeful backs; and round and round,
Quick-dying lightnings colour them; with sound

Of deep winds, on thou marchest, through each isle

That lies in beaded lines along the sky,
Thy sky of amorous blue, and we do smile
Gravely, and bow unto the gentle joy.
And so thou makest festival above

and men

With the pale watchers of the night;
Feel there is joy in heaven; and hill, and plain,
Laugh in their sleep more beautiful: and then
Thoughts, that the blaze of day had veil'd, do move
Starlike, and tremble in the soul, proud Love
Of all things high and noble, and do prove
Our very day celestial; and all life

Seems, in this purest moonlight,-moonlight pure
And radiant, from the morning's mist; and strife,
And e'en bad men the thought of good endure,
And weeping eyes look up to Heaven secure.

W.

RECOLLECTIONS OF DR. PARR, BY A PUPIL.-NO. I.

DURING the period of my pupilage, Dr. Parr resided at Hatton. His first wife, (formerly Miss Marsengale) and his two daughters, Sarah and Catherine, were then living. The former, whom the Doctor called Sally Parr, was the cleverest woman I ever knew. She was not learned, but she had accumulated a very considerable store of miscellaneous reading, including the works of most of our standard English writers, had a wonderful memory, a fertile imagination, and tremendous powers of wit and sarcasm. In a word, "elle pétilloit de Talent;" as a striking proof of which, I have heard her father allude to a colloquial conflict which she once had with Godwin on the subject of his philosophy, which was then in its zenith, and on which she exercised her powers of ridicule, in a way that excited the astonishment of all present.

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She had lived in the society of Joseph Gerald, George Moore, Godwin, Holcroft, Sir Samuel Romilly, and many individuals of celebrity in the political and literary world; and her talent in discriminating characters, and in portraying their respective foibles and peculiarities, rendered her a most entertaining companion. Her mother possessed strong sense et voilà tout." Catherine, the youngest daughter, who had evidently a tendency to consumption, died unmarried, at the age of about three-and-twenty. Although by no means deficient in abilities, she was eclipsed in intellect by her more highly gifted sister. The latter used often to play on the piano-forte, whilst the Doctor was poring over some favourite Greek or Latin book, totally insensible to the charms of the finest compositions of Haydn or Mozart, which could not for a moment distract his attention. Very different was the case when she struck up the tune of "In yonder green copse there sits an old fox." For a little while the Doctor would attempt to resist the enchantment; but at length the fascination was irresistible, the pipe was laid down, the book thrown aside, and my preceptor accompanied the instrument with all the power of his stentorian voice. The song to which I have just alluded is sung as a glee: I believe it is not in print, and I have never heard it except at Hatton, where I have often joined in singing it with Parr and Tom Sheridan,

"Animæ quales neque candidiores

Terra tulit, neque queis ine sit devinctior alter."

HOR. Sat. v. Lib. i. 41, 42.

Parr took the bass, and Tom Sheridan the second. Being on a vocal topick, I claim to be allowed one note of admiration for that most openhearted and most agreeable companion, Tom Sheridan; who had been one of the Doctor's favourite pupils, and who was on a visit to him at the period to which I have alluded. He was a fellow of infinite fun." In conversation he combined wit, with good-nature, and the tout ensemble was delightful. His knowledge was not indeed very great, but July--VOL. XVII. NO. LXVII.

F

it was various, and always at his command; and I have heard him discuss with Parr a subject of abstruse metaphysics, with a degree of ability which excited the Doctor's admiration and applause. From his mother (the celebrated Miss Linley) he inherited a remarkably fine voice, and unfortunately a tendency to consumption, which ultimately proved fatal. Parr delighted in his society. His powers of mimickry were such as could only be rivalled by Matthews.

To return to my preceptor: whilst I was at Hatton the number of pupils was limited to three, or at most four. We had no stated hours for our lessons, and my occupation of amanuensis sometimes took up nearly the whole of the day. The Doctor smoked at intervals, both in the morning and evening. For educating dull boys he was not at all suited; he soon gave up the task in despair: but if a youth had talent and was idle, Parr was the man to flog it out of him. This was literally the case (as he told me) with regard to Headley the poet, whose "Remains" have been published by Kett.

The Doctor's plan of tuition was as follows:-The pupil read aloud in Homer, Xenophon, Virgil, Terence, Aristotle, Juvenal, or Cicero ; first giving the entire sentence from the original, and then translating it. When convinced that the pupil thoroughly understood what he was reading, Parr would often dispense with the literal translation, and would only pause to point out peculiar idioms, and parallel passages in other authors. In some instances, however, the fervour of his admiration prevented him from dwelling on these minutiæ. Such was the case, as I well recollect, when I read with him the 9th Eneid, which he considered a masterpiece, particularly the Episode of Nisus and Euryalus. When we arrived at the concluding lines,

"Fortunati ambo! si quid mea carmina possunt,
Nulla dies unquam memori vos eximet ævo,
Dum domus Eneæ, capitoli immobile saxum
Accolet, imperiumque pater Romanus habebit."

Nothing could exceed my preceptor's enthusiasm. "Read it over again, you dog," said he, with good-humoured vivacity; and we repeated the lines together with renewed energy. Parr was undoubtedly a master peculiarly qualified to give the pupil a thorough relish for the classics. That relish, which I acquired under his tuition, I still retain; and, to use the words of Gibbon, "I would not exchange it for all the treasures of the earth."

With the Doctor I read Lord Kaims' "Elements of Criticism," a work which he praised highly, remarking, however, that Kaims was not a good Latin scholar, and that his classical quotations were furnished to him by a French Abbé. "Aristotle's Rhetoric" was a favourite book with Parr, who told me that the great Lord Chatham had made it his study. The Doctor spoke with unbounded praise of" Johnson's Imitations of Juvenal's Third and Tenth Satires." The preface to Shakspeare he considered Johnson's most eloquent prose composition, and he delighted in quoting that fine passage, where Johnson, at the close of his attack upon the doctrine of the Unities, says," But when I think of the great authorities that are ranged on the other side, I am almost tempted to retire from the contest, as Æneas withdrew from the siege of Troy, when he saw Neptune shaking the walls, and Juno heading the besiegers."

Notwithstanding Parr's devotion to Greek and Latin authors, no one could have a greater relish than he had for romances, particularly those of Mrs. Radcliffe; but before he arrived at the conclusion of any of these works, his impatience was such as to induce him to look at the last four or five pages, to see the particulars of the denouement.

The qua

The Doctor's admiration for Charles Fox is well known. lity in that great man which Parr most admired and praised, was his simplicity of character and thorough exemption from every particle of guile or worldliness; and assuredly this quality is delightful. To Burke's varied and astonishing powers Parr has borne ample testimony in his celebrated Preface to Bellendenus, in which he has happily applied to Burke the well-known lines of Lucretius :

"Quem tu Dea tempore in omni

Omnibus ornatum voluisti excellere rebus."

Apropos of Bellendenus; when the Doctor's preface was the theme of general admiration, Horne Tooke said of it, rather contemptuously, "It consists of mere scraps;" alluding to the frequent use of the Ciceronian language. This sarcasm was mentioned to Parr, who afterwards meeting Tooke, said to him,--" So, Mr. Tooke, you think my Preface mere scraps?" "True,"_replied Tooke, with inimitable readiness, "but you know, my dear Doctor, scraps are often tit bits."

Whenever Parr came to town, he received numerous invitations to dinner as soon as his arrival was known, and chiefly from grandees— a favourite word with the Doctor, in speaking of persons of high rank. It will give some idea of the number, when I mention that upon one occasion, when his table was covered with cards and letters, he desired me to specify them on a sheet of paper in regular succession, according to the dates. The result was, that during a period of five weeks he had only two vacant days. The Doctor has sometimes taken me with him to dinner, introducing me as one of his pupils-a privilege which his friends allowed him. In this way I have enjoyed some noctes cœnaeque Deum. On such occasions he generally had the use of a friend's carriage; but when the distance was trifling, and the weather fine, he walked, wearing in the streets a common wig, whilst a man followed him close, carrying in a box the grand peruke of enormous dimensions, "the μéya Oavμa of barbers, and the terror of the literary world."

The Doctor, when dining out, never desired to have his pipe until after the ladies had retired; but he was frequently (I believe generally) indulged with it immediately after dinner, a small table being placed near him, with all the apparatus of smoking. I have often heard him allude to his dining at Carlton House, on which occasion, as he told me with much satisfaction, his present Majesty (then Prince of Wales) insisted on his having a pipe.

Those who were invited to meet Dr. Parr at dinner, came to hear him talk; and a very rich treat it was when the party consisted of individuals who liked him, and whose sentiments on politics were congenial with his own. His conversation was at such times delightful, abounding in brilliant repartees and happy illustrations, and, above all, in anecdotes of celebrated political and literary characters. He spoke

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