CCXXIX. Dr Parr.

The Writer of the Memorabilia in the LONDON MAGAZINE, who acts the part of an enemy in the name of a friend, describes Dr Parr to have been an Epicurean and almost a glutton. But I, who lived at his table for many successive months at different periods, and who saw him both in the presence of company and in the absence of company, declare the statement to be quite exaggerated. Dr Parr's general health was good— his animal spirits were most lively--his constitution was most powerful— his appetite was keen. I have often breakfasted with him at five, at six, at seven, at eight in the morning, as it might happen. He did not make a hearty breakfast in general, and was very quick about it: sometimes, however, he was tempted at a friend's house by an inviting dish of ham. He grudged the time spent at breakfast, hastily seized his first pipe, and then was impatient to begin the business and the labours of the day. He would call me away from the table, to follow him into his Library or into the little room at the end of his garden, and charge me to be ready-armed with pens and provisioned with ink. He would continue to dictate to me for several hours, sometimes for seven successive hours without intermission, and with such intenseness of application, that he forgot to treat himself with his antemeridian pipe. He would order dinner at 3, 4, 5, or even 6, according to his calculations as to the time at which he might finish his performances for the day. He would, when they were concluded, smoke his pipe, and then ask me to perambulate with him in the Village, till the dinner was ready, thus taking no luncheon, or, as he called it nuncheon. When the dinner appeared, he was, after such exertion and abstinence, quite ready for it. He would eat heartily, but not glutton-like, or even voraciously. His great culinary delights were a sop in the pan, and he used to laugh, as he told me that the present Duke of Devonshire, when he, Dr Parr, was at Chatsworth, accompanied him into the kitchen for that purpose,

a pigeon-pie, a suet-pudding, roasted pig, and asparagus, and he would find a very rich repast in a roasted leg of mutton with an abundant supply of toast to be soaked in the gravy. To gravy of all kinds he was partial; if rich, he would relish it much; if plain, he would always enjoy it; he seemed more anxious about the quantity than the quality of it. In general, he drank very little wine; occasionally indeed he loved to circulate the glass freely, but, though I have known his virtue warmed with wine, I never saw him intoxicated and never observed his conversational powers affected by the indulgence. He liked to drink wine rather at dinner than after it, and his delight was to take wine with all his friends at the table. After dinner he was always disposed to smoke. Often his spirits were so high and his alacrity so great immediately after dinner, that he would, before he touched a glass of wine, dictate Letters of considerable length and abounding with pleasantry and learning: this I thought the hardest part of my duty as his amanuensis, as I was seldom in a fit condition to write just after a good meal. He often, after he had finished his pipe, was inclined to sleep, and where was the wonder, when he had earned sleep by great exertion? That was my chief time for reading, and exploring the riches of his Library. After his nap, he would resume his pipe and indulge in pleasant colloquy about the intellectual spirits of the present day or the magnanimous heroes of former times, about the vagaries of the human mind, and the deceitfulness of the human heart, about the moral excellencies of his friends, or about the political profligacy of the age. In the midst of these conversations tea would be announced. He was not very partial to that beverage in an evening, and generally took only one dish, (for he was outrageous against the innovation of the word cup,) with a little toast or bread and butter. Sometimes he resumed his dictations in the evening, when anything pressed heavily on his mind, but more frequently he loved to talk till supper arrived, which consisted of a basin of water-gruel seasoned with a little salt and accompanied with a little toast. He never would eat meat-suppers, and was not

disposed to indulge such a propensity in any occasional inmates of his house. He generally retired early to bed, but sometimes loved to smoke and chat, chat and smoke for a long time after supper. To cheese and salmon he had a great antipathy. I remember that he once attempted to cure himself of the former antipathy, but in the effort disordered his stomach. The latter antipathy was often a serious inconvenience to him as well as to his friends.

CCXXX. The Butterfly.

Aug. 14, 1837. B. quoted the following passage from Spencer, as one of the most beautiful to be found in the works of our old poets.

THE woods, the rivers, and the meadows green,

With his air-cutting wings he measur'd wide;
Ne (nor) did he leave the mountains bare unseen,
Nor the rank grassy fen's delight untried.
But none of these, however sweet they been (be),
Mote (might) please his fancy, nor him cause abide.
His choiceful sense with every change doth flit;
No common things may please a wavering wit.

To the gay gardens his unstay'd desire

Him wholly carried, to refresh his sprites (spirits),
There lavish Nature, in her best attire,

Pours forth sweet odours and alluring sights;
And Art, with her contending, doth aspire
T'excel the natural with made delights:
And all that fair or pleasant may be found,
In riotous excess doth there abound.

There he arriving, round about doth fly

From bed to bed, from one to other border,

And takes survey, with curious busy eye,

Of every flower and herb there set in order;
Now this, now that, he tasteth tenderly,

Yet none of them he rudely doth disorder,
Ne with his feet their silken leaves deface,
But pastures on the pleasures of each place.

And evermore, with most variety

And change of sweetness (for all change is sweet,)
He casts his glutton sense to satisfy;

Now, sucking of the sap of herb most meet,
Or of the dew which yet on them does lie,

Now in the same bathing his tender feet:
And then he percheth on some bank thereby,
To weather him and his moist wings to dry.

Some one spoke of the two famous epitaphs written by Ben Jonson.

1. EPITAPH ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE.

Underneath this sable hearse

Lies the subject of all verse,
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother,
Death, ere thou hast kill'd another
Fair and learn'd and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee.

2. ANONYMOUS.

Underneath this stone doth lie
As much virtue as could die;

Which, when alive, did vigour give

To as much beauty as could live.

G. said that the last of these epitaphs was written by Ben Jonson in a different manner.

Underneath this stone doth lie

As much beauty as could die,

Which in life did harbour give

To more virtue than doth live.

G. gave Giffard, the editor of Ben Jonson, as his authority. -mem. to look into this.

CCXXXI. DIAMOND.

Aug. 16, 1837. The diamond is pure carbon, or charcoal crystallised; it is among the rarest of all known substances, and carbon is among the most abundant. We can have a roomful of pure carbon for sixpence, but a bit of pure crystallised carbon, the size of balf your thumb, is worth many thousand pounds. You drink diamonds, when you drink soda-water; but you drink them in the form of gas. Mr Farraday has succeeded by immense pressure in reducing carbon from the gaseous to the liquid state; but it must be in a glass-tube, hermetically sealed. The moment it comes in contact with the atmosphere, it again assumes the gaseous form. Diamond requires great heat to burn it; but when it does burn, it consumes utterly. Its whole substance changes into that kind of gas, which is pumped into soda-water, and is produced naturally in champagne. The Standard, Aug. 16, 1837.

CCXXXII. Payne Knight, &c.

THE FLEET, Aug. 17, 1837. Yesterday I saw MR CH. DUBOIS, a friend of Mr Smyth. He says that Payne Knight wrote a Volume in 8vo entitled, he thinks, Veneres et Priapi, to illustrate obscene Gems in his own and other collections. From the present Mr Willett of Merley he learned that there was a Club or Society formed to celebrate the ancient Bacchic, Druidical, and other orgies; they were all gentlemen of fortune,