selves decided Scandinavians; they offered him not only the ships, but all the shot, powder, cordage, and even the biscuit, if he would come back; but nothing could turn him; he went home, and it took a fortnight of serious behaviour before they were forgiven.

Calling upon a fellow writer in the Edinburgh Review, Sydney Smith found him, to his surprise, actually reading a book for the purpose of reviewing it. Having expressed his astonishment in the strongest terms, his friend inquired how he managed when performing the critical office. "Oh," said Smith, I never read a book before reviewing it: it prejudices a man so."

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FREE AND EASY.

Sydney Smith being annoyed one evening by the familiarity of a young gentleman, who, though a new acquaintance, was encouraged by Smith's jocular reputation to address him by his surname alone, and hearing him tell that he had to go that evening to the Archbishop of Canterbury's palace for the first time, the reverend Canon said, pathetically, "Pray don't clap him on the back, and call him Howley."

ERROR CORRECTED.

In preaching a charity sermon, the Rev. Sydney Smith frequently repeated the assertion that, of all nations, Englishmen. were most distinguished for generosity and the love of their species. The collection happened to be inferior to the preacher's expectations, when he said that he had evidently made a great mistake, for that his expression should have been, that they were distinguished for the love of their specie.

"THE GREAT SIR SUDNEY."

One evening there came to supper at Mr. Smith's, in Orchard-street, Sir James Mackintosh, bringing with him a Scotch cousin, an ensign in a Highland regiment. On hearing the name of his host, he turned round, and nudging Sir James, whispered, "Is that the great Sir Sudney?" "Yes, yes," said Sir James, much amused, and giving Mr. Smith the hint, he instantly assumed the military character, per

F

formed the part of the hero of Acre to perfection, fought all his battles over again, and showed how he had charged the Turks, to the infinite delight of the young Scotchman, who was quite enchanted with the kindness and condescension of "the great Sir Sudney," as he called him, and to the absolute torture of the other guests, who were bursting with suppressed laughter at the scene before them. Nothing would serve the young Highlander but setting off at twelve o'clock at night, to fetch the piper of his regiment to pipe to "the great Sir Sudney," who said he had never heard the bagpipes: upon this, the party broke up, and dispersed instantly, for Sir James said his Scotch cousin would infallibly cut his throat if he discovered his mistake. A few days afterwards, when Sir James Mackintosh and his Scotch cousin were walking in the streets, they met Mr. Sydney Smith with his wife on his arm. He introduced her, upon which the Scotch cousin said in a low voice to Sir James, and looking at Mrs. Sydney, "I did na ken the great Sir Sudney was married." Why, no," said Sir James, a little embarrassed, "not ex-act-ly,— married,—only an Egyptian slave he brought over with him; Fatima-you know-you understand." Mrs. Smith was long known in the little circle as Fatima. We find this admirable anecdote in Lady Holland's Memoir.

VENDIBLE CRITICISM.

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Criticism is a very marketable commodity in France, and openly so. When the celebrated singer, Nourrit, died, the editor of a Paris musical journal waited on his successor, Duprez, and with a profusion of compliments and apologies, intimated to him that Nourrit invariably allowed 2000 francs a-year to the Review. Duprez, taken rather aback, expressed his readiness to allow half that sum. 66 Agreed, sir," said the editor, with a shrug; "but I pledge my honour that I lose one thousand francs by the bargain."

THEODORE HOOK AT OXFORD.

Hook having been duly entered at Oxford, he was placed under the charge of his brother, and presented by him to the Vice Chancellor, Dr. Parsons, head of Balliol, and afterwards Bishop of Peterborough, for matriculation. The ceremony

was well-nigh stopped in limine, in consequence of a piece of facetiousness on the part of the candidate-ill-timed, to say the least of it. On being asked if he was prepared to subscribe to the Thirty-nine Articles? "Oh, certainly, sir," replied Theodore, "forty, if you please." The horror of the Vice-Chancellor may be imagined. The young gentleman was desired to withdraw; and it required all the interest of his brother, who, fortunately, happened to be a personal friend of Dr. Parsons, to induce the latter to overlook the offence. The joke, such as it is, was probably picked up out of one of Foote's farces, who makes Mrs. Simony, if we mistake not, say, when speaking of her husband, the Doctor (intended for the unfortunate Dr. Dodd), "He believes in all the Thirty-nine Articles; ay, and so he would if there were forty of them."

*

On the evening of Hook's arrival at the University, he contrived to give his brother the slip, and joined a party of old schoolfellows in a carouse at one of the taverns. Sundry bowls of "bishop," and "egg-flip" having been discussed; songs, amatory and bacchanalian, having been sung with full choruses; and, altogether, the jocularity having begun to pass "the limit of becoming mirth," the Proctor made his appearance, and, advancing to the table at which the "freshman was presiding, put the usual question, “Pray, sir, are you a member of this University?" "No, sir," replied Hook, rising and bowing respectfully; pray, sir, are you?" A little disconcerted at the extreme gravity of the other, the Proctor held out his ample sleeve-" You see this, sir?" "Ah!" returned Hook, having examined the fabric with great earnestness for a few seconds, "yes, I perceive; Manchester velvet and may I take the liberty, sir, of inquiring how much you might have paid per yard for the article?" The quiet imperturbability of manner with which this was uttered was more than the rev. gentleman could stand; and, muttering something about "supposing it was a mistake," he effected a retreat, amid shouts of laughter from Hook's companions and the other occupants of the coffee-room.

*Foote, by the way, during his studentship, at Worcester College, played Punch at Oxford, in disguise, successfully, as might be expected from his cleverness in mimicry.

WINTER AND SUMMER.

Hook was delighting a party at his cottage at Fulham, by an extempore comic song, when, in the middle of it, his servant entered with, "Please, sir, here's Mr. Winter the tax-gatherer; he says he has called for taxes.". Hook would not be interrupted, but went on at the pianoforte, as if nothing had happened, with the following stanza:

"Here comes Mr. Winter, collector of taxes,

I'd advise you to pay him whatever he axes;
Excuses wont do, he stands no sort of flummery,
Though Winter his name is, his presence is summary."

HOAXES BY THEODORE HOOK.

Hook, in an amusing account of his going to the Trial of Lord Melville, describes a hoax which he practised upon a country-looking lady and her daughters, from Rye, in Sussex, who were amongst the company, and sat on the same bench with Theodore. The lady having inquired of him who certain personages were, and one of the daughters expressed her astonishment at one of the youngest peers looking very old, "Human nature," says Hook, "could not stand this any one, though with no more mischief in him than a dove, must have been excited to a hoax." 66 And, pray, sir," continued the lady, pointing to the bishops, who came next in order, in the dress which they wear on state occasions, viz. the rochet and lawn sleeves over their doctor's robes, "who are those gentlemen?" "Gentlemen, madam !" said Hook, "these are not gentlemen: these are ladies, elderly ladies-the dowager peeresses in their own right." The fair inquirer fixed a penetrating glance upon his countenance, saying as plainly as an eye can say, "Are you quizzing me or no?" Not a muscle moved; till, at last, tolerably well satisfied with the scrutiny, she turned round and whispered, "Louisa, dear, the gentleman says that these are elderly ladies and dowager peeresses in their own right; tell Jane not to forget that." All went on smoothly till the Speaker of the House of Commons attracted her attention by the rich embroidery of his robes. "Pray, sir," said she, "and who is that fine-looking person opposite?" "That, madam," was the answer, "is Cardinal Wolsey." "No, sir," cried the lady, drawing herself up, and casting at her in