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cal dignity to be conferred on Barrow; this was accordingly done, but it came too late in the day for Barrow to enjoy it. So true is the observation often made, "that the Stuarts never rewarded their friends or punished their foes."


A fellow of a certain college in Cambridge 'one day fell asleep during the performance of divine service, and his busy imagination conveyed him to his own rooms. Occupied with an idea that his coal-dealer, who was chapel clerk, had overcharged him, he bawled out, "John N——, I wish you'd let me have my coals at the same price as other people have them !"


Dr. then head of a certain college in Cambridge, understanding from his spouse, who was a thrifty matron, and a crown unto a husband, that their Yorkshire servant, John, used too much candle in the stable, he sent for him, and inquired what he meant by it?"Please, zur," said John, "You knaw as how oi uses things as niggardlike as pozzible. Howbeet, zur, won maun have a bit o' rushlight at noight, to see whon's way about the proimizes. "True, true, John," said the doctor, who was remarkable for his urbanity; "true, but you overdo the thing." "How so, zur?" said John. "How so, fellow!" exclaimed the doctor, "How so! what d'ye mean by how-soing me over? You're insolent, fellow, very insolent. You use too much candle a

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great deal, and are insolent into the bargain; don't you know, fellow, I'm king of this place?" If so be, zur," said John, "as how you be koing o' this place, perhaps your majesty will give me moy discharge?" It is needless to add Yorky was dismissed the service; and, when the circumstances came to be known, the learned doctor retained his regal appellation for many years.


Bishops Sherlock and Hoadly were both freshmen of the same year, at Catherine Hall, Cambridge. The classical subject in which they were first lectured, was Tully's Offices, and it so happened, one morning, that Hoadly received a compliment from the tutor for the excellence of his construing. Sherlock, a little vexed at the preference shown to his rival (for such they then were), and, thinking to bore Hoadly by the remark, said, when they left the lecture-room, "Ben, you made good use of L'Estrange's translation to-day."—" Why, no, Tom," retorted Hoadly, "I did not, for I had not got one; and I forgot to borrow your's, which, I am told, is the only one in the college.”



At a party of which the late Dr. Brand happened to make one, many stories were related by one of the gentlemen, for the entertainment of the company, of a most marvellous description. A pause occurring in the conversation, the doctor commenced by saying,-" Gen

tlemen, I will tell my tale. In a country village," continued the doctor," lived a butcher, who had the curiosity, one day, to view the adjacent country from the top of the village steeple, and, for that purpose, he was shown up by the clerk of the parish. Soon after they had reached the top, the bells began to ring, which caused the steeple to rock from one side to the other with such velocity, that the butcher, unable to bear the effect (which completely addled his brains), leaped from the top; but reflecting, on his way down, ofthe eminent risk he ran in alighting, he suddenly drew his knife from its sheath, stuck it in the wall, and there hung dangling by it, like a hat on a peg, till some persons, having obtained a ladder, lifted him down." "That must be a lie !" exclaimed the person who had before amused the company so much.— And, pray, what have you been telling the whole evening?" said the doctor, Our gentleman was mum.



Dr. John Jegon, formerly Master of Benet, or Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, for some serious offence, fined all the undergraduates of his own college; and, instead of applying the money to any private use, as was the custom, he ordered that the college hall should be whitewashed with it: whereupon one of the students, a wag in his way, hung on the skreen the following couplet:

"Doctor John Jegon, of Benét College master,

Brake the scholars' heads, and gave the wall a plaster.", The doctor, passing through the hall next day, saw the

above, and, not being wanting in wit, subscribed, extempore,

"Knew I but the wag that writ these verses in bravery, I'd commend him for his wit, but whip him for his knavery."


When death unrelentingly cut short the career of Porson, and the election of a Greek professor took place, a Cantab (who was cotemporary with him at a public school) wrote the following epigram on one of the candidates:·


Actum est Porsono! descendit "PosCos Axawy:"
M**kius en! lampas nil, nisi nigra manet.


Lo! Porson's dead! the sun of Greece is sunk,
And nought is left but farthing-rushlight, M**k.


In St. John's Hall, one day, during dinner, there happened to be a great paucity of waiters. A gentleman, impatient at the delay, at length exclaimed, "D-n it, we can't get a waiter !”—“The devil we can't," said Mr. K who sat opposite, "I think we are all waiters."



A reverend gentleman of Queen's College, whose duty it was, being unable to perform divine service at his church, in Chesterton, near Cambridge, deputed a divine of Trinity College, for the Sunday. The Trinitarian, who dined at a lady's in the parish, before service, unwittingly left his sermon on the table. Having finished the prayers, and mounted the pulpit, he put his hand in his coat-pocket for his sermon; but, alas! it was not there. However, with great presence of mind, he leaned over the desk and whispered to the clerk (who happened unfortunately to be deaf, and, withal, like most village clerks, a rustic),—“ Run, fetch my sermon, which I left on the table in Mrs. Chitteau's parlour."-Amen, misunderstanding the words, immediately bawled out, with stentorian voice, "This is to give notice, that the sermon will be preached, this afternoon, in Mrs. Chitteau's parlour."


The Rev. Mr. B―, when residing at Canterbury, was reckoned a good violencello-player; but he was not more distinguished for his expression on the instrument, than for the peculiar appearance of feature whilst playing it. In fact, when lost in the midst of the adagios of Corelli or Avison, the muscles of his face all sympathized with his fiddle-stick, and kept up a reciprocal movement. His sight, being dim, obliged him very often to snuff the candles, and, when he came to a bar's rest, in lieu of snuffers, he generally employed his fingers in


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