Chapter 4

The late Rev. Thomas Toller, an eminent dissenting minister, (joint preacher with the celebrated Dr. James Fordyce, at Monkwell-street,) resided many years in the Lower-street, Islington. One day, when he got into the stage to come to London, he met with two ladies of his acquaintance, and a loquacious young Irishman, who was very obtrusive with his "would-be wit" to the females. The coachman soon stopped to take up another passenger, who, Dutchman-like, was "_slow to make haste_." A young dog, being confined in the neighbourhood, bewailed its loss of liberty, by making an hideous noise; which all the party agreed was very disagreeable. The Hibernian, desirous to display his wit, and to _quiz_ the parson, said, "The animal was so unpleasantly noisy, it must be a presbyterian _dog_." Mr. Toller calmly, but with much apparent confidence, said, "I am sure it is an Irish dog."--"How do you know that?" exclaimed the astonished young man with eagerness.--"I know it, sir," (replied the divine,) "by its impudence and its howl." This seasonable retort cured the garrulity of the patient, and gave him a locked-jaw till the stage arrived at the Royal Exchange.

RAMSDEN THE OPTICIAN.

It was his custom, to retire in the evening to what he considered the most comfortable corner in the house, and take his seat close, to the kitchen fireside, in order to draw some plan for the forming a new instrument, or scheme for the improvement of one already made. There, with his drawing implements on the table before him, a cat sitting on the one side, and a certain portion of bread, butter, and a small mug of porter placed on the other side, while four or five apprentices commonly made up the circle, he amused himself with either whistling the favourite air, or sometimes singing the old ballad of

"If she is not so true to me, What care I to whom she be? What care I, what care I, to whom she be!"

and appeared, in this domestic group, contentedly happy. When he occasionally sent for a workman, to give him necessary directions concerning what he wished to have done, he first showed the recent finished plan, then explained the different parts of it, and generally concluded by saying, with the greatest good humour, "Now see, man, let us try to find fault with it;" and thus, by putting two heads together, to scrutinize his own performance, some alteration was probably made for the better. But, whatever expense an instrument had cost in forming, if it did not fully answer the intended design, he would immediately say, after a little examination of the work, "Bobs, man! this won't do, we must have at it again;" and then the whole of that was put aside, and a new instrument, begun. By means of such perseverance, he succeeded in bringing various mathematical, philosophical, and astronomical instruments to perfection. The large theodolite for terrestrial measurements, and the equal altitude instrument for astronomy, will always be monuments of his fertile, penetrating, arduous, superior genius! There cannot be a lover (especially of this more difficult part) of philosophy, in any quarter of the globe, but must admire the abilities, and respect the memory, of Jesse Ramsden--_Practical Observations on Telescopes_.

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THE GATHERER.

"I am but a _Gatherer_ and disposer of other men's stuff."--_Wotton_.

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Mr. Kelly, in his "Reminiscences," relates, that in 1792 he was walking in the Place Vendome with two Irish gentlemen, a Colonel Stark Macarthy and a Captain Fagan, the latter possessing "a vast portion of the ready wit of his country." Coming to the celebrated statue of Victory holding the laurel crown over the head of Louis XIV., a French officer was enumerating the splendid achievements of that heroic king, and particularly desired us to observe the attitude of the figure of Victory. "Pray, sir," said Fagan, "may I take the liberty of asking the question--Is Victory putting the laurel on his majesty's head, or taking it off?" The question puzzled the Frenchman, and made us laugh heartily.

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Parr carried his compassion towards the inferior tribes so far, that two or three hares found a secure asylum for nearly two years in his garden at Hatton. He said that they were his clients, for they had placed themselves under his protection. He gave strict orders that they should not be shot. "It would be a gross violation," he said, "of a tacit covenant of hospitality."

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A few months since, a noble marquis bespoke a play at a country theatre, the representation of which Mr. Canning, prime minister, honoured with his presence. The boxes and other parts of the house were crammed, with the exception of the pit, which looked beggarly; on which an actor observed to a brother of the sock, "We've no _pit_ to-night."--"No _Pitt_!" rejoined the other, "and none we want while we have a _Canning!_"

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