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umphantly to the Greek professor, and said,-" Porson, with all your learning, I do not think you well versed in metaphysics."—"I presume you mean your metaphysics," was the reply.

At another time, when something which the same gentleman had written and published much interested the public attention, and occasioned many squibs, paragraphs, and controversial letters in the newspapers, Porson wrote the following epigram :—

"Perturbed spirits spare your ink,

And heat your stupid brains no longer;
Then to oblivion soon will sink

Your persecuted-monger."


Dr. Sydal, Bishop of Gloucester, used to say, that a person of his college, Corpus Christi, Cambridge, not famous for his acumen, once asserted that there were animals several miles long: this was said in a large company, and, when the persons present began to stare, and to express their doubts of the fact, he said he could demonstrate the thing to any of them who would come to his chamber. In a day or two some went, upon which he took out his compasses, and, going to a map which hung up in his room, he first measured the figure of an animal engraved thereon by way of ornament, and then clapped them to the scale of miles, saying, "Look you there, gentlemen, this animal is at least three miles long, and there are others of greater dimensions."


A party of Cantabs one day, walking along a street in Cambridge, espied an ass tied to a door, and being in want of an object wherewith to kill a little time, they resolved to play bumpkin a trick, who, having disposed of his wares, was enjoying his pipe and his pint within doors. The Cantabs were not long at a loss what to be at, one of them proposing that the panniers should be put upon his back, and the bridle on his head, whilst the rest led the ass astray. In this condition stood the scholar, when bumpkin, who had by this time finished his pipe and pint, came to the door; all amazement at what he saw, he stood gaping for a minute or two, when the Cantab thus addressed him :-"You must know, Sir, that I quarrelled with my father about seven years since, and, for my disobedience, I was changed into the degrading shape of an ass, to endure every hardship for that space of time; which being now expired, you are bound to set me at liberty." Bumpkin, believing the tale, took off the panniers and bridle, and set the scholar at large. A few days after, Bumpkin went to a neighbouring country fair to purchase another ass, in lieu of the one he had lost; and, after viewing different beasts, to his no small surprise, his old identical ass was offered to him; which, on seeing its master, brayed most piteously in token of recognition; but Hodge, nothing moved thereat, passed on to another, exclaiming " So you have quarrelled with your father again, have you? But dang me if I'll have you again!"


A certain doctor, head of a college, stood candidate for a professorship which happened to be vacant at the same time his lady was delivered of a fine boy. A friend called on the doctor about the time the professorship was decided, and for which he was one of the unsuc→ cessful candidates, to congratulate him on the birth of his son; and accordingly, in the usual phrase, "wished him joy." The doctor being rather deaf, and mistaking his meaning, replied rather smartly, “ I didn't get it ;-I didn't get it."


In the list of benefactors to Peter-House is Lady Mary Ramsay, who is reported to have offered a very large property, nearly equal to a new foundation to this college, on condition that the name should be changed to Peter and Mary's; but she was thwarted in her intention by Dr. Soame, then master. "Peter," said the crabbed humourist, "has been too long a bachelor to think of a female companion in his old days."


The Rev. George Harvest, fellow of Magdalen College, Cambridge, with a good heart possessed many oddities. One night, seated amidst all the pageantry of politeness with Lady O- and the family, in the front box of a London theatre, poor Harvest, on pulling out


his handkerchief, brought with it an old greasy nightcap, which fell into the pit. "Who owns this?" cries a gentleman below, elevating the trophy at the same time on the point of his cane; Who owns this?" The unaffected Harvest, little considering the delicate sensations of his friends, and overjoyed at the recovery of this valuable chattle, eagerly darts out his hand, seizes the cap, and in the action cries out, "It is mine!" The party were utterly disconcerted at the circumstance, and blushed for their companion, who rather expected their congratulations at the recovery of his property.


It is sufficiently notorious that Porson was not remarkably attentive to the decorating of his person; indeed he was at times disagreeably negligent. On one occasion he went to visit a friend, where a gentleman, who did not know Porson, was anxiously expecting a barber. On Porson's entering the library where he was sitting, the gentleman started up, and hastily exclaimed, "Are you the barber?"—"No, Sir," answered Porson; "but I am a cunning shaver, much at your service."


Herring, afterwards archbishop, slipt down a bank, and fell into the mud in a ditch near St. John's College. A wag, passing by at the time, exclaimed, "There, Herring, you are in a fine pickle now!" A Johnian, to which college the immemorial privilege of punning had been conceded in the Spectator's time, and who had consequently

a disposition to be pleased with puns, went home laughing most immoderately all the way at the joke. Some of his fellow-collegians inquiring the cause of his merriment: 66 I never heard," said he," a better thing in my life. Herring, of Jesus, fell into the ditch in the piece, and an acquaintance said, as he lay sprawling, 'There, Herring! you are in a fine condition now!"—" Well,” said his companions, "where is the wit of it, pray?"— Nay," he said, "I am sure it was a good thing when I heard it."



It has been a custom in the University, from time im→ memorial, to cap the Vice-Chancellor. A student meeting Dr., Master of Clare Hall, when he held that office, and omitting to pay him the accustomed compliment, the doctor, conceiving it to be an insult to his dignity, stopped the student, exclaiming, at the same time, "Do you know who I am, Sir?" The student, taking his glass, coolly eyed the doctor from head to foot, answering, "Upon my word, Sir, I have not that pleasure. Sir," ," said the doctor, "I am the Vice-Chancellor."-" Indeed!" said the student: at the same instant capping the doctor, he walked on.

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It is related of the two admirable wits, Beaumont and Fletcher, that, meeting once in a tavern to contrive the rude draught of a tragedy, Fletcher undertook to kill the king therein; whose words being overheard by a listener,

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