POESON*S MEMORY. 



235 



thing he disliked, ever did or could 

 happen. One must explain this by 

 instances. He chose that his eldest 

 son should always live in the house 

 with him while unmarried. The 

 son, who was more than of age, and 

 had a will of his own, often chose 

 to live elsewhere. But let him be 

 ever so distant, or stay away ever 

 so long, his father still insisted on 

 supposing him present ; every day 

 bidding the butler tell Lord Her- 

 bert dinner was ready: and the 

 butler every day as gravely bring- 

 ing word, that "his lordship dined 

 abroad." Marrying for the third 

 time at seventy-five, he maintained 

 strict dominion over a wife whom 

 other people thought safely arrived 

 at years of discretion, and quite fit 

 to take care of herself. She had 

 leave to visit in an evening, but 

 must never on any account stay out 

 a minute later than ten o'clock, his 

 supper-hour. One night, however, 

 she staid till past twelve. He de- 

 clined supping, telling the servant 

 it could not be ten o'clock, as their 

 lady was not come home ; when 

 at last she came, in a terrible fright, 

 and began making a thousand apo- 

 logies. " My dear," said he very 

 coolly, "you are under a mistake, it 

 is but just ten ; your watch, I see, 

 goes too fast, and so does mine : we 

 must have the man to-morrow to 

 set them to rights ; meanwhile let 

 us go to supper." His example on 

 another occasion might be worth 

 following. Of all the Mede and 

 Persian laws established in his 

 house, the most peremptory was, 

 that any servant who once got 

 drunk should be instantly dis- 

 charged ; no pardon granted, no 

 excuse listened to. Yet an old 

 footman, who had lived with him 

 many years, would sometimes in- 

 dulge in a pot of ale extraordinary, 

 trusting to the wilful blindness 

 which he saw assumed when con- 

 venient. One fatal day, even this 

 could not avail. As my Lord 



crossed the hall, John appeared in 

 full view; not rather tipsy, or a 

 little disguised, but dead drunk, and 

 unable to stand. Lord Pembroke 

 went up to him. "My poor fel- 

 low, what ails you 1 you seem 

 dreadfully ill ; let me feel your 

 pulse. God bless us, he is in a 

 raging fever; get him to bed di- 

 rectly, and send for the apothe- 

 cary." The apothecary came, not 

 to be consulted for his Lordship 

 was physician-general in his own 

 family but to obey orders; to 

 bleed the patient copiously, clap a 

 huge blister on his back, and give 

 him a powerful dose of physic. 

 After a few days of this treatment, 

 when the fellow emerged weak and 

 wan as the severest illness could 

 have left him, "Hah, honest John," 

 cried his master, " I am truly glad 

 to see thee alive; you have had 

 a wonderful escape though, and 

 ought to be thankful ; very thank- 

 ful, indeed. Why, man, if I had 

 not passed by at the time and spied 

 the condition you were in, you 

 would have been dead before now. 

 But, John, John," lifting up his 

 finger, "NO MORE OF THESE FE- 

 VERS ! " 



PORSON'S MEMORY. 



" I had invited Porson," says an 

 English author, " to meet a party 

 of friends in Sloaue Street, where I 

 lived ; but the professor had mis- 

 taken the day. and made his ap- 

 pearance in full costume the pre- 

 ceding one. We had already dined, 

 and were at our cheese. When ho 

 discovered his error, he made his 

 usual exclamation of a u-hooe ! as 

 long as my arm, and, turning to> 

 me, with great gravity, said, 'I 

 advise you in future, sir, when you 

 ask your friends to dinner, to ask : 

 your wife to write your cards. Sir, 

 your penmanship is abominable; 

 it would disgrace a cobbler. I swear 

 that your day is written Thursday, 

 not Friday,' at the same time pull- 



