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Porson, having spent an evening at a friend's house, a short distance from town, was brought the next morning to visit his friend's neighbour, who had a learned library, and a house full of books; and, after apologizing for his dress and shoes, which were not his own, but supplied with the rest of his clothes by his companion (he having got wet through the night previous), and quoting Horace in two places for the awkwardness of a shoe too tight or too loose, and Theophrastus and Theocritus, he provoked one of the company to observe, "That the way to make the greatest expedition was to run, as the French and Dutch and Scotch women do, with their slippers in their hands, when they are pressed for time;" and quoted Eschylus, where it is said in the Prometheus, "I hurried out of the carriage without sandals." Upon this, Porson started up upon his feet, and, fired, as a strict sportsman is when he hears a strange gun in the preserve which he keeps for his own shooting, no sooner were the three words pronounced, than he gave Stanley's comment and parallel passages upon them; for such was the local mechanism of his memory, that, mention a line in any classic, and he would not only tell what followed, but the subsequent clause. But to proceed he quoted a similar passage from Bion, which, consisting of a broken line, a whole verse, and a broken one, he made the most of them, and thundered them out with a menacing gesture, and a strong emphasis on the last words, "without sandals.". The gentleman, who had innocently begun the match, and had never seen Porson before in a room, was struck with the

earnestness of his manner and apparent displeasure, and determined neither to give up nor sit still, but to follow the professor, and do as he did; he therefore, too, stood upon his legs, and roared out, in the words of the next quotation in Stanley from Theocritus, "Arise, nor stay to put the sandals on your feet." The professor was startled to find his opponent on the same ground with himself, and so near at his heels; but, doubting if it were not by mere accident, he took the next passage from Horace that followed in the commentator, to which he added the remark of Stanley that concludes his note: namely," that water-nymphs went unshod, and for that reason Homer gives Thetis the epithet of silver-footed," and here, for he was in the habit of seeing every body and every thing out, as usual, he had the last word.


Dr. Boldero, formerly master of Jesus College, had been treated with great severity by the protectorate for his attachment to the royal cause, as was Herring, at that time Bishop of Ely, and in whose gift the mastership of Jesus College is vested. On a vacancy of the mastership occurring, Boldero, without any pretensions to the appointment, in plain English plucks up his spirits, or, in Homer's language, speaks to his magnanimous soul,* and presents his petition to the bishop. "Who are you?" says his lordship, “I know nothing of you! I never heard of you before!" “My lord,” replied Boldero, "I have suffered long and severely for my at

είπε προς μεγαλητορα θυμον.

tachment to my royal master, as well as your lordship, and I believe your lordship and I have been in all the gaols in England." "What does the fellow mean!" exclaimed the bishop, "Man! I never was confinəd in any prison but the Tower!" "And, my Lord," said Boldero, "I have been in all the rest myself!" The bishop's heart was melted at this reply, and he granted Boldero's petition.


Of a certain college in Cambridge was one evening listening at the door of one of the under-graduates of his college, suspecting something improper to be proceeding within. The student, by some means having acquired a knowledge of the snare, taking the pot de chambre in his hand, he suddenly opened his door and discharged the contents over the president, accompanied with a kick, exclaiming, at the same time, "Get down, you rascal! I'll tell the president of your listening at my door!"


When Morton, afterwards Bishop of Durham, stood for the degree of D.D. at Cambridge, he advanced something which was displeasing to the professor, who exclaimed, with some warmth, "Commosti mihi stomachum!" To which Morton replied, "Gratulor tibi, reverende professor, de bono tuo stomacho, canabis apud me hâc nocte."


Mr. John Nicholson, formerly a well-known bookseller in Cambridge (a full length portrait of whom, painted by Reinagle, hangs in the entrance to the public library), originally hawked prints and maps round the colleges for sale, and it was his custom to bawl at the entrance to the staircases which led to the rooms where the students kept, Maps!" From this circumstance he was, by the gownsmen, so named; and the following hexameter was circulated through the University on the occasion:


Μαπς αυτον κηλεςσι θεοι, ανδρεσδε Νιχολσον.


Snobs call him Nicholson! a plebeian name,

Which ne'er would hand a snobite down to fame,

But to posterity he'll go,—perhaps,

Since Granta's classic sons have dubbed him Maps!


Prior kept his fellowship of St. John's College, Cambridge, till his death, and used to say-The salary will always insure me a bit of mutton and a clean shirt!"


Lord Melcombe, when his name was plain Bubb, was intended by the administration of that time to be sent

ambassador to Spain. While this matter was in contemplation, Lord Chesterfield met him, and, touching him upon the proposed embassy, told Bubb, that he did not, by any means, think him fit to be the representative of the crown of England, at the Spanish court. Bubb begged to know the ground of his objection: "Why," said his lordship, "your name is too short. Bubb, Bubb,-do you think the Spaniards, a people who pride themselves on their family honours, and the length of their titles, will suppose a man can possess any dignity or importance, with a name of one syllable, which can be pronounced in a second? No, my friend, you must not think of Spain, unless you make some addition to your name!" Bubb desired his lordship to say what he would have him do. Lord Chesterfield, pausing a moment, exclaimed," I have it: what do you think of calling yourself Silly-Bubb?”


From the number of bores made in Cambridge, your attention is not unfrequently attracted by a small fountain playing. Some gentlemen one day discoursing on the subject, it was facetiously observed by Dr. Gthen Vice-Chancellor, "that, although Cambridge had been tapped very often, it was still very dropsical!"



Ben Jonson, being one evening at a tavern-club, seated at the upper end of the table, amongst his inge


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