CHILLINGWORTH. wished to consult, and received for answer, "That he never allowed his books to go out of his room, but that, if he chose to come there, he was welcome to read as long as he pleased." Some days afterwards this pedant applied to Masson for the loan of his bellows, who replied, "That he never allowed his bellows to go out of his room, but that, if he chose to come there, he was welcome to blow as long as he pleased." 253 with verses from the poets, or sentences from classical authors, which being then all the fashion in the university, made his company more acceptable." He died in 1639.Oxoniana. DR. BAINBRIDGE. Dr. Walter Pope, in his life of Seth Ward, Bishop of Salisbury, speaking of the Doctor, says, "This was the same Dr. Bainbridge who was afterwards Savilian professor of astronomy at Oxford, a learned and good mathematician; yet there goes a story of him which was in many scholars' mouths, when I was first admitted there, that he put upon the school-gate an affiche, or written paper, as the custom is, giving notice at what time, and upon what subject, the professor will read, which ended in these words, lecturus de polis et axis, under which was written by an unknown hand as follows: Doctor Bainbridge To read de polis et axis: And learn a new syntaxis." CHILLINGWORTH. In 1599, he was elected student of Christ Church, and "for form sake," says Wood, "though he wanted not a tutor, he was put under the tuition of Dr. John Bancroft, after Bishop of Oxon. In 1614, he was admitted to the reading of the sentences, and on the 29th of Nov., 1616, he had the vicaridge of St. Thomas parish, in the west suburb of Oxon, conferred on him by the dean and canons of Christ Church (to the parishioners whereof he always gave the sacrament in wafers), which, with the rectory of Segrave, in Leicestershire, given to him some years after by George Lord Berkeley, he kept with much ado to his dying day. He was an exact mathema- "Mr. Chillingworth," says Bishop tician, a curious calculator of na- Hare, "is certainly a good reasoner, tivities, a general read scholar, a and may be read with much advanthrough-paced philologist, and one tage: but I fear the reading of him that understood the surveying of by young divines hath had one lands well. As he was by many great inconvenience. They see litaccounted a severe student, a de- tle show of reading in him, and vourer of authors, a melancholy from thence are induced to think, and humorous person; so by there is no necessity of learning, to others, who knew him well, a person of great honesty, plain-dealing, and charity. I have heard some of the antients of Ch. Ch. often say that his company was very merry, facete, and juvenile, and no man in his time did surpass him for his ready and dextrous interlarding his common discourses among them make a good divine; nay, that if he had been more a scholar, he had been a worse reasoner; and therefore not to study the ancient writers of the church, is one step to the being Chillingworths themselves: I fear, I say, the reading Mr. Chillingworth in their first years has had this influence, to make them think, that good parts and good In the Pleasant Musical Comsense would do without learning, panion, printed in 1726, are two and that learning is rather a pre- catches of Dr. Aldrich, the one, judice than an improvement of" Hark the bonny Christ-Church them. But 'tis a great mistake to Bells," the other entitled "A smokjudge of a man's learning by the ing catch, to be sung by four men show that is made of it. Mr. Chil-smoking their pipes, not more diflingworth had studied hard, and ficult to sing than diverting to digested well what he had read; hear." and so must they who hope to write as well, and be as much esteemed." DR. ALDRICH. The learning of Dr. Aldrich, and his skill in polite literature, were evinced by his numerous publications, particularly of many of the Greek classics, one of which he generally published every year as a gift to the students of his house. He also wrote a system of logic for the use of a pupil of his, and printed it; but he possessed so great a skill in architecture and music, that his excellence in either would alone have made him famous to posterity. The three sides of the quadrangle of Christ Church, called Peck-water Square, were designed by him, as was also the elegant chapel of Trinity College, and the church of All Saints, in the High Street, to the erection whereof Dr. Radcliffe, at his solicitation, was a liberal contributor. Amidst a variety of honourable pursuits, and the cares which the government of his college subjected him to, Dr. Aldrich found leisure to study and cultivate music, particularly that branch of it which related both to his profession and his office. To this end he made a noble collection of church-music, consisting of the works of Palestrina, Carissimi, Victoria, and other Italian composers for the church, and by adapting with great skill and judgment English words to many of their motets, enriched the stores of our church, and in some degree made their works our own. Dr. Aldrich's exclusive love of smoking was an entertaining topic of discourse in the university, concerning which 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 humour, 66 You see you have lost your wager, for I'm not smoking, but filling my pipe." 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." (Oxoniana.) SIR WILLIAM DAWES, ARCHBISHOP Sir William was the youngest son of Sir John Dawes, Bart. In 1687, he was sent to St. John's College, from Merchant Tailor's school, but his father's title and estate descending to him, upon the death of his two elder brothers, about two years after, he left Oxford, and entered himself a nobleman in Catharine Hall, Cambridge. "His discourses," says the writer of his life, were plain and familiar, and such as were best adapted to a country audience, yet under his management 66 in that society, he entered a commoner of Queen's. On the expiration of the year, no vacancy having happened during that time at New College, he left Queen's on being elected a Demy of Magdalen. He was soon tired of a college life, re and manner of expression, they far surpassed the most elaborate compositions of other men. For such was the comeliness of his person, the melody of his voice, the decency of his action, and the majesty of his whole appearance, that he might well be pronounced the most com-signed his demyship, and went to plete pulpit orator of his age." He London, where he commenced a was the author of several works, man of the town, and was romanand died in 1724. tic enough to suppose that his superior abilities would draw the attention of the great world, by means of whom he was to make his fortune. In this pleasurable way of life he soon wasted his little property, but was relieved by a considerable legacy left him by a maternal uncle, a colonel in the army. He soon afterwards fell into a most deplorable state of mind. The following story is told as a proof of the Archbishop's good nature and fondness of a pun. His clergy dining with him, for the first time after he had lost his lady, he told them, he feared they did not find things in so good order as they used to be in the time of poor Mary; and, looking extremely sorrowful, added with a deep sigh, "She was, indeed, Mare Pacificum!" -A curate, who pretty well knew what she had been, called out, Ay, my Lord, but she was Mare Mortuum first." Sir William gave him a living of £200 per annum within two months afterwards. 66 LATINIZED NAMES. The custom of persons Latinizing their names was formerly very common. Of Oxford men, who frequently wrote their names in Latin, the following occur to my recollection:-Andrew Borde, Andreas Perforatus; Nightingale, Philomelus; Bridgewater, Aquepontanus; Gayton, De Speciosa Villa; Turberville, De Turbida Villa; Flood, De Fluctibus; Holyoke, De Sacra Quercu; Payne Fisher, Paganus Piscator; and John Aubrey, Joannes Albericus.—(Oxoniana.) COLLINS, THE POET. Collins was sent very young to Winchester College, where he was soon distinguished for his early proficiency, and his turn for elegant composition. In the year 1740, he came off first on the roll for New College, but there being no vacancy Without books, or steadiness and resolution to consult them if he had been possessed of any, he was always planning schemes for elaborate publications, which were carried no further than drawing up proposals for subscriptions, some of which were published; and in particular one for "A History of the Darker Ages." He was passionately fond of music; good-natured and affable; warm in his friendships, visionary in his pursuits, and temperate in his diet. He was of moderate stature, of a light and clear complexion, with gray eyes, so very weak at times as hardly to bear a candle in the room, and to give him apprehensions of blindness. The following story is told of him while he was resident at Magdalen College:-It happened one afternoon, at a tea-visit, that several intelligent friends were assembled at his rooms to enjoy each other's conversation, when in comes a certain member of the university, as remarkable at that time for his brutal disposition as for his good scholarship; who, though he met with a circle of the most peaceable people in the world, was determined political enemies, cordially greeted to quarrel; and, though no man said a word, raised his foot, and kicked the tea-table and all its contents, to the other side of the room. Our poet, though of a warm temper, was so confounded at the unexpected downfall, and so astonished at the unmerited insult, that he took no notice of the aggressor at that time, but getting up from his chair calmly began to pick up the slices of bread and butter, and the fragments of his china, repeating very mildly, "Invenias etiam disjecti membra poetæ." -(Oxoniana.) SIDNEY SMITH. A gentleman, residing in Bristol, in 1838, who signs himself Rwas invited by Southey to accompany him and his son on a visit to Sidney Smith at Combe Fleury. He says, "We arrived at the village about noon, and, having alighted at the little inn, we all four proceeded towards the vicarage where Mr. Smith resided, a country lad officiating as our guide through the somewhat intricate lanes. We had proceeded about three-quarters of a mile, when the clodhopper, mounting a gate, pointed with his huge hand to a portly gentleman in a black dress and top-boots, who was leisurely riding along on a rough-looking cob, and opening his eyes and capacious mouth to the fullest extent of which each was capable, exclaimed, 'There be Passon Smith yander.' And, surely enough, the passon' it was, and towards him we made our way. "He did not recognize Southey, but looking hard at him and us, was about to pass on, when the laureate went towards him and accosted him by name. Almost instant recognition took place, and the personal friends, although violent each other. Smith alighted from his horse, and directing our guide to take it to the stable, turned with us towards the house, asking a hundred questions, and ever and anon expressing his delight at the unexpected visit. "The vicarage was anything but pleasantly situated, and, in itself, more resembled a farm-house than a village pastor's 'modest mansion.' Everything about it was in sad disorder, and plainly enough evidenced that no woman's hand presided over the arrangement of the establishment. We got to the front door through a littered-up courtyard, and, after passing through a stone-paved hall, were conducted into the library, a large room, full of old-fashioned furniture, where books, parliamentary reports, pamphlets, and letters, lay all about, in most admired confusion. "This is my workshop,' he observed to Southey; 'as black as any smithy in Christendom.' "And the neat and precise laureate seemed to think so, for he looked cautiously about for a clean chair, folded up his coat-tails, and was preparing to sit down, when Smith, with a sly gravity, wiped with his handkerchief (none of the cleanest) the dust from an old folio edition of the works of one of the fathers of the church, and requested his friend to sit on it. 66 Southey shrunk from the profanation, and, respectfully removing the work, preferred the dusty chair. I do not think he much relished the joke, although he said nothing. I could not help thinking that he was mentally comparing, or rather contrasting, the appearance of Smith's library with that of his own exquisitely neat one at Keswick. Alas! ere long he would wander into that learned retreat, there gaze for hours, with an idiotic smile, on a favourite black letter THOMAS HOOD. 66 257 volume, and then submit himself, by judicious nods and well-timed like a child, to the guiding hand | faint denials, gained the credit of of an attendant, and be led out; being connected with the work. for, in the days of his insanity, it "We sat down to a plain country was a strange fact, that although dinner, after which fond of finding his way into his beloved library, he never could discover the way out of it. The glasses sparkled on the board.' "Like Friar Tuck, the canon of St. Paul's enjoyed creature comforts, and many were the flashes of wit which set us in a roar. Southey was very abstemious, and refused wine, alleging his recent seizure as an excuse. Smith rattled away "The conversation was pretty general, and chiefly related to the old friends of either party. Mr. Smith spoke of Coleridge in the highest terms, but severely deprecated his indolence. Referring to Charles Lamb's intemperate habits, he remarked, 'He draws so much beer that no wonder he buffoons people he must have a butt to conversation. put it in.' I like a great boy, and, with the sole exception of Theodore Hook, I never heard any one so brilliant in No subject came amiss to him, and he seemed at At this time, the question of home in every one. Of humbugs, the authorship of that strange, but both political and personal, he had clever and learned book, the Doctor, the most utter detestation, and was a doubtful one, and much freely expressed his opinions. mooted in literary circles. Many shall not soon forget the ridicule suspected, and indeed named, which he that day heaped on the Southey as the writer; but he head of Robert Montgomery, who never either admitted or denied had then just published his poem, the fact of his being so. The con- Satan. versation turned on the subject, and Smith, with a roguish twinkle in his eye, told Southey that he knew who was the author. Southey calmly inquired the name, and the reverend gentleman remarked, 'I remember, some years since, enjoying a conversation with one Robert Southey, in which he used the exact words which I find here,' and he read from a page of the Doctor a passage, and then said, 'Now, Mr. Laureate, it needs no conjuror to convince any one of common sense that the writer of the passage I have read, and the utterer of those very words to me seven years since, are one and the same person.' Southey bit his lip, but said nothing. After his death, Mrs. Southey divulged the secret, which her husband kept till his death. I question whether she would have made known the fact of the authorship, had not some shabby fellows, "As to personal appearance, Sidney Smith was about the average height, or a trifle above it, inclined to corpulency, and of a fresh redand-white complexion. The expression of his features was pleasing, and his snowy hair gave him an air of venerability. Good humour was the prevailing characteristic; but when he talked with severity, his aspect became changed, and few could have beheld unmoved his withering glance." THOMAS HOOD. under Mr. Hood was born Gresham's Grasshopper, in the city of London, in the year 1790, the son of Hood, of the firm of Vernor & Hood, in the Poultry, the publishers of Bloomfield and Kirke White, and the booksellers to whom we are indebted for the Beauties of England and Wales. One of his biographers has told us R |