Freshet, or purling brook, of shell or fin,
And exquisitest name, for which was drain'd
Pontus, and Lucrine Bay, and Africk coast.
Alas! how simple to these cates compared,
Was that crude apple that diverted Eve!
And, at a stately sideboard, by the wine
That fragrant smell diffused, in order stood
Tall stripling youths rich clad, of fairer hue
Than Ganymed or Hylas; distant more
Under the trees now tripp'd, now solemn stood
Nymphs of Diana's train, and Naiades
With fruits and flowers from Amalthea's horn,
And ladies of th' Hesperides, that seem'd
Fairer than feign'd of old, or fabled since
Of fairy damsels met in forests wide
By knights of Logres, or of Lyones,
Lancelot, or Pelleas, or Pellenore:

And all the while harmonious airs were heard
Of chiming strings, or charming pipes; and winds
Of gentlest gale Arabian odours fann'd

From their soft wings, and Flora's earliest smells."

"These lines," said the Doctor, "are perhaps equal to any thing in Paradise Lost. But in Paradise Regained there are very few fine passages."

The

Parr often received presents from his friends of game, poultry, &c. On one occasion I recollect the arrival of a turkey and chine at Hatton, without any intimation from what quarter they came. Doctor, after thinking a little while, settled it in his own mind that they were a present from one of his friends, who resided in the county from whence the parcel had been sent; and under that impression, wrote a letter to him, in which were these words :-" We feasted yesterday on your turkey and chine, which were both excellent; and we drank the health of the donor in a bumper." A few days afterwards Parr received another similar present from the individual above alluded to, with a letter to the following effect :-" My dear Doctor, the turkey and chine you mention did not come from me. I hope those which I now send will prove equally good."

The Doctor's pipes were generally presents from his friends. Mr. Peregrine Dealtry, in particular, used often to supply him. Once he received, at Hatton, a box of very handsome pipes, with a plume of feathers on the bowl, which, to the best of my recollection, were a present from the Prince of Wales. The Earl of Abingdon gave him a superb Turkish pipe. Trivial as the circumstance may be thought, I will just mention, that the Doctor, when smoking, always held the bowl of the pipe with his finger and thumb, although the heat would not have been endurable by a person unaccustomed to that habit.

There are many portraits of Dr. Parr. That which, in my opinion, by far the most resembles him, is one of which there is a mezzotinto engraving by Say. In that portrait you have the exact character of his countenance. Romney's and several others are flattering likenesses.

My preceptor entertained an unfeigned esteem for Dr. Cyril Jackson, the late Dean of Christchurch, who, during the period of his presiding over that college, was sometimes called the King of Oxford; and, with reference to whom, the nolo episcopari was literally his maxim.

Parr, in speaking of him, said,-"Sir, he made his brother a bishop: but he has himself refused two bishopricks, and the archbishoprick of York." On some public occasion, the Dean preached what the Doctor thought an ultra-tory sermon, before a congregation including many Whigs of high rank. This displeased Parr, who said,—“ If I had been near my friend Cyril, I would have whispered in his ear,

*

"Non sat divisa sunt, Dave, temporibus tibi."

-?"

Parr told me, that he once met in the streets the late Archbishop of Narbonne, of whom he said,-" He was dressed in a suit of purple. His port and figure were majestic. Sir, I was awed. He ought to have been Pope." This leads me to remark, that I have heard Dr. Parr specify some of our prelates, who, as he said, looked grand in pontificalibus. He mentioned in particular Archbishop Moore, and Bishops Hurd, Watson, and Bathurst, and added, laughingly, "I think I look as well as any of them in mine. What do you think, To say the truth, the Doctor's appearance with the sash, the cassock, and the grand wig, had a very imposing effect; and it delighted him not a little to be told that this was the case. Upon one occasion, when sitting after dinner with Parr and two or three very intimate friends, the grand peruke having been adverted to, a wish was expressed to have it sent for from the barber's, who lived in the neighbourhood. This proposal being good-humouredly acquiesced in by the Doctor, we all tried it on successively. When it was put on the head of a near relative of mine, Parr immediately exclaimed," Sir,. you look like an archbishop!" and every one present agreed in the same opinion.

Doctor, on the au-
The two first are
The last relates to

I will now relate three anecdotes concerning the thority of Mr. J. Clayton Jennyns, the barrister. highly characteristic of Parr's manner in society. a practical joke played upon him by a gentleman, with whom he was on a footing of the greatest intimacy for many years.

Mr. J. once met my preceptor at the house of the late Dr. Disney. After dinner, perceiving that the Doctor was not disposed to talk, and that the conversation flagged, Mr. J. (having previously whispered to a friend that he would bring Parr out) availed himself of the first opportunity of opposing, with an appearance of warmth, some opinion which the Doctor had just been expressing. Before Mr. J. had uttered many words, Parr interrupted him, saying in a loud voice,

* Great uncle to the present Viscount Dillon, who is the lineal descendant of the well-known Sir Henry Lee, and proprietor of his mansion and estate of Ditchley. The writer of this article hopes that Lord Dillon, in his retirement at Florence, will steal an hour from his metaphysical lucubrations, to be devoted to the perusal of these "Recollections" of one, who sincerely hopes to see him shortly residing at his mansion of Ditchley, which, with his illustrious ancestor, have recently been immortalized by the pen of the author of Woodstock. The last sentence brings to my mind another able Penn, whom Lord Dillon will be glad to see at Ditchley, and whose knowledge on genealogical subjects, would qualify him for the office of Garter King at Arms.

+ Late Fiscal at Demerara and Essequibo. Mr. Jennyns is the author of several very able legal treatises, the object of which is to mitigate the severity of our penal code, and which were often spoken of in terms of high praise by the late Earl Stanhope.

but with the utmost good-humour,-"Hold your tongue-don't provoke me I'll expose your ignorance." Mr. J. having still persisted, in pursuance of his preconcerted plan, the Doctor laid down his pipe very deliberately; and, after saying, in the way of preface,-"Now, Jennyns, I'll have no mercy on you," talked for a considerable time in a strain of animated eloquence, which delighted the whole party, and no one more than Mr. J.; who, at the conclusion of Parr's speech, confessed the stratagem which he had made use of. This did not at all offend the Doctor, who only said,—“Oh, you dog!" and having been once roused, talked most agreeably during the rest of the evening. * The second of the three anecdotes to which I have alluded, is as follows:

At the house of Mr. in Grosvenor-square, where Mr. Jennyns met several persons, including Dr. Parr, assembled before dinner, in the course of conversation, it was mentioned that Mr. whose arrival they every moment expected, intended to study mathematics; and it was suggested to the Doctor, who was intimate with that gentleman, that it would be a friendly action to induce him to relinquish his purpose; upon which Parr exclaimed, "He learn mathematics! a blockhead! Leave him to me: I'll crush the silly project." Shortly afterwards, Mr. having made his appearance, Parr took him into an adjoining apartment, and addressed him thus, whilst the rest of the party were listening. "I am told, S- that you are going to study mathematics. Now, my dear (speaking in the kindest tone of voice) you know, I have the greatest regard for you. Indeed, I have a sincere friendship for you. But you know, my dear that you are a fool! You must be aware that you are almost an idiot! My dear fellow, if you study mathematics, you will be a madman; and I have too much respect for you, to wish to see you in a strait waistcoat!" appeared to be thunderstruck, but took in good part the advice of the Doctor, who felt convinced that his friend would give up all thoughts of pursuing his mathematical studies.

Mr.

9

The practical joke, to which I have alluded, also occurred at Mr. -'s house in Grosvenor Square. Parr being there on a visit, and a warm bath having at his request been prepared for him, his attention was directed to two bells in the room; one of which, he was told, was for hot, and the other for cold water. had, however,

Mr.

This stratagem puts me in mind of an anecdote, which I will relate on the authority of the late Mr. Bouchier Smith. At the table of the highest personage in the realm, many years ago, Mr. (an elegant poet of illustrious descent, and who had lived much in the society of sovereigns on the Continent) introduced the subject of the different constitutions of the German Principalities, upon which he entered into an argument with his royal host, who, in consequence of Mr. counterfeited opposition, discussed the topic in question in a very luminous and able manner, to the great delight of all present (including Mr. Bouchier Smith) and particularly of Mr. who candidly admitted that he had made use of a colloquial ruse de guerre, for the purpose of obtaining information on a topic, with which he knew the Prince to be familiar, and which he knew not how to obtain in any other quarter.

Mr. Bouchier Smith was, through his mother, of the Lowther family. He died a few years ago at Croome, the seat of the Earl of Coventry, who had been his schoolfellow at Westminster, and was buried in the vault of the Coventry family. He was well known in the higher circles of the metropolis, and was a finished gentleman, with great mental powers.

given orders, that upon the ringing of either of the bells, a fresh supply of hot-water should be poured in. Parr, when in the bath, thinking it too warm, immediately rang, what he had been told, was the cold water bell, and waited for a minute or two, expecting the heat to diminish. Finding, to his great surprize, the water hotter than before, and thinking that he had pulled the wrong bell, he rang the other as hard as possible. But this only increased the evil by producing a reinforcement of hot water; until at length the heat became so intolerable, that he jumped out of the bath in a passion, exclaiming, "Good God! do they mean to boil me?"-"No, Doctor," said Mr. who was listening on the other side of the door, "I only intended that you should be par-boiled."

ON A SAILOR'S FUNERAL AT SEA.

He is not where his fathers lie,

He sleeps not where they sleep-
His name a wreck of memory,
His dwelling-place the deep-
Down mid unfathom'd gulfs he lies,
And ocean's unveil'd mysteries.
For he is gone where cave and hall
With coral garnished,

And darkness for their funeral pall,
Receive the ocean dead,

Where the sea-monsters have their home,

But men and sunbeams never come.

Grey was the dawn, and not a braid
Curl'd on the billow's brow,

While on the deck the prayer was said
And he was cast below,

Into the waveless glistening sea
That closed above him tranquilly.

We watch'd the circle on the wave
The dreary plunge had given,
And saw it widen o'er his grave,
And pass away where heaven

Met the smooth waters' darker blue

And blended their ethereal hue.

They wrapp'd no shroud his limbs around,

No bier sustain'd his form;

About the corse its bed they bound,
Which, oft in calm and storm,
The slumberer and the dreamer bore,
Who now shall dream and wake no more.

Sicken'd and sad we turn'd away

From the sad sight of gloom:

The solitude of sea that day

Seem'd but one mighty tomb,

Burying all thoughts but thoughts of woe-
Asking who next should plunge below!

THE COLLECTOR OF CAWNPORE.

A Tale.

On a fine dry morning, in the month of December, just as the early sun, unveiling his glory, had begun to absorb the dews and bathe the whole landscape in splendour, I arrived at the station of Cawnpore. My boat was moored to the bank of the Ganges, and my servants preparing their breakfast, when our attention was arrested by the sound of a bugle, evidently at no great distance. My Chusnasse came towards me, and said that a review was to take place in half an hour.

It would be idle to attempt any lengthened description of the cantonment of Cawnpore. Its situation is almost destitute of natural beauty, or indeed, interest of any kind. Let the reader fancy a huge, uncultivated, sandy plain, which, during the period of the hot winds, sends up into the air vast clouds of dust, covering the houses and trees, and penetrating even into the interior of the former, and he will have a pretty accurate idea of the general site of the place. The inhabitants must be inconceivably annoyed by these sandy exhalations, which are known to settle densely on the very tables and chairs within those bungalows most exposed to their influence. Directly across the plain was the evening drive, throughout which there is scarcely a single object near or in perspective, upon which the eye may rest with pleasure; whilst the great distance between the cavalry lines and those of the infantry, deprives the officers of that sociability so desirable, and indeed necessary for their comfort. Nevertheless, with all its disadvantages, Cawnpore is not, to the traveller, quite uninteresting. Nature has been careful to vindicate herself from the charge of utter unprofitableness. The broad Ganges glides along with smooth and steady pace, beneath a towering cliff, overgrown in many places with shrubs and flowers. Upon the summit of this barrier stand several well-built houses, dispersed without any regard to regularity;-some approach almost to the very edge of the cliff; others are considerably in the back ground:-but each possesses large gardens within its ornamental enclosure. The sun not having fully risen at the time my boat was moored, I had a delightful opportunity of enjoying that slight breeze which seldom fails, in India, to accompany the uprising of the great luminary, and which, to an European, is particularly agreeable, investing all nature with double freshness and beauty. On arriving at the cantonments, I found the troops already assembled, and was surprised to see so fine a display, which was the more unlooked for, as I had received frequent accounts of the fearful alteration wrought by a few hot summers in the appearance of European forces. The Collector of Cawnpore had been, in other days, my most confidential friend; and now, after an interval of many years, I found myself at the place wherein he resided. The anticipated interview agitated as well as interested me. Youth had flown over our heads with all its fresh and buoyant feelings, and we had entered the shady part of life's road. What a variety of events had meanwhile occurred, of moment to both, and calculated to modify greatly, if not altogether to alter, former opinions and sentiments! With a portion of my friend's intermediate history I had from time to time become acquainted; and it was of a character to excite a reasonable expectation, that I should find him, not only changed in person, but, in the words of the poet, a "sadder and a wiser man."

The Collector was on the ground; but so surrounded by natives both of high and low caste, who flocked to pay their respects to the man of office, that I saw plainly our meeting under such circumstances, would be constrained and embarrassing. I therefore avoided him for the present; and, on the termination of the review, inquired my way to his residence. Having learnt that the master of the house was "at home," I was ushered into a handsome room, wherein breakfast was laid, in considerable style, and apparently for a large party. The room was, however, empty; and I paced about for some time, without having my cogitations in any way disturbed. At