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TABLE-TALK A17D VARIETIES. 



people in the world, was determined political 

 to quarrel; and, though no man 

 said a word, raised his foot, and 

 kicked the tea-table and all its 

 contents, to the other side of the 

 room. Our poet, though of a warm 

 temper, was so confounded at the 

 unexpected downfall, and so asto- 

 nished at the unmerited insult, that 

 he took no notice of the aggressor 

 at that time, but getting up from 

 his chair calmly began to pick 

 up the slices of bread and butter, 

 and the fragments of his china, re- 

 peating very mildly, 



" Invenias etiam disjccti membra 

 poetse." 



(Oxoniana.) 



SIDNEY SMITH. 



A gentleman, residing in Bristol, 

 in 1838, who signs himself R 



was invited by Southey to accom- 

 pany him and his son on a visit to 

 Sidney Smith at Combe Heury. 

 He says, 



" We arrived at the village about 

 noon, and, having alighted at the 

 little inn, we all four proceeded to- 

 wards the vicarage where Mr. Smith 

 resided, a country lad officiating as 

 our guide through the somewhat 

 intricate lanes. We had proceeded 

 about three-quarters of a mile, when 

 the clodhopper, mounting a gate, 

 pointed with his huge hand to a 

 portly gentleman in a black dress 

 and top-boots, who was leisurely 

 riding along on a rough-looking 

 cob, and opening his eyes and 

 capacious mouth to the fullest ex- 

 tent of which each was capable, 

 exclaimed, 'There be Passon Smith 

 yander.' And, surely enough, the 

 'passon' it was, and towards him 

 we made our way. 



"He did not recognize Southey, 

 but looking hard at him and us, was 

 about to pass on, when the laureate 

 went towards him and accosted 

 him by name. Almost instant re- 

 cognition took place, and the per- 

 sonal friends, although violent 



enemies, cordially greeted 

 each other. Smith alighted from 

 his horse, and directing our guide 

 to take it to the stable, turned with 

 us towards the house, asking a 

 hundred questions, and ever and 

 anon expressing his delight at the 

 unexpected visit. 



"The vicarage was anything but 

 pleasantly situated, and, in itself, 

 more resembled a farm-houso than 

 a village pastor's 'modest mansion.' 

 Everything about it was in sad 

 disorder, and plainly enough evi- 

 denced that no woman's hand pre- 

 sided over the arrangement of the 

 establishment. We got to the front 

 door through a littered-up court- 

 yard, and, after passing through a 

 stone-paved hall, were conducted 

 into the library, a large room, full 

 of old-fashioned furniture, where 

 books, parliamentary reports, 

 pamphlets, and letters, lay all 

 about, in most admired confusion. 

 " 'This is my workshop,' lie ob- 

 served to Southey; 'as black as 

 any smithy in Christendom.' 



" And the neat and precise lau- 

 reate seemed to think so, for he 

 looked cautiously about for a clean 

 chair, folded up his coat-tails, and 

 was preparing to sit down, when 

 Smith, with a sly gravity, wiped 

 with his handkerchief (none of the 

 cleanest) the dust from an old folio 

 edition of the works of one of the 

 fathers of the church, and requested 

 his friend to sit on it. 



" Southey shrunk from the pro- 

 fanation, and, respectfully remov- 

 ing the work, preferred the dusty 

 chair. I do not think he much re- 

 lished the joke, although he said 

 nothing. I could not help thinking 

 that he was mentally comparing, or 

 rather contrasting, the appearance 

 of Smith's library with that of his 

 own exquisitely neat one at Kes- 

 wick. Alas ! ere long he would 

 wander into that learned retreat, 

 there gaze for hours, with an idiotic 

 smile, on a favourite black letter 



