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ABERNETHY AND LISTON.
With all his power of creati g mirth,
and provoking laughter in others, Liston
was, when at home, the dullest man
imaginable, and a prey to low spirits,
which frequently threatened his reason.
13y the persuasion of his wife, he went
to the celebrated Abernethy, so well
known for the brusquerie of his manner.
Litton was ushered into the surgeon’s
room, and was received with a slight
bow by the old cur, who was unacquain
ted with the name or person of his visi
tor.
“Sit down, sir. What ails you V ’ said
the doctor.
Liston stated his complaint with gravi
ty and deliberation.
“Is that all?” inquired Abernethy.
“There’s nothing the matter with you.
Low spirits ! Pooh ! pooh ! Go to the
Covent Garden to-night, and see Liston
perform ; if that has no effect, go again I
to-morrow : that will do it. Two doses
of Liston will restore a melancholy mad
man. There—go—go.’’
Liston was taken aback —tipped his
guinea—and made a most theatrical exit.
YArvines Cyclopaedia of Anecdotes.
LOUIS XIV., A MUSICIAN.
One day as that austere coutier, the
Duke de Montausier, for whom Boileau
wrote so magnificent an apology, was on
the point of leaving the study of Louis
XIV., after a serious and interesting con
versation, the king stopped him.
“I know,” said Louis, “that besides a
vast fund of sterling sense, your Grace
possesses a great deal of wit and taste.
Whether the point under discussion is
one of the most serious importance, or of
the lightest possible nature, you always
show the keenest apreciation and the most
correct judgement. 1 have here got a
new song, and 1 should like to know what
you think of it.
“Your Majesty does me great honour,”
replied the Duke; “but 1 think it would
be better if you w’ere to consult Monsieur
Quinault, or Monsieur de Benserade.”
“Not at all, Duke. lam particularly
anxious to hear your opinion, and I des’.re
that you express it without the least re
serve.”
“Sir, lam all attention.”
Hereupon the king commenced singing,
to a popular air, one of the most wretched
songs ever written in the Trench lan
guage. After he had concluded, he turned
to the Duke and said :
“Well, sir, what do you think of it.”
“I think that your Majesty is exceed
ingly kind to take any notice of a rhapso
dy like that, written by some miserable
rhymster ”
“You think it is bad, then?” said the
Kin/, blushing up to the eyes, and then
i turning very pale.
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
“Sir, it is detestable.”
“Suppose, 1 told your Grace,” contin
ued the King, endeavouring to conceal
his feelings, “suppose I told you that the
author of the work for which you express
such contempt, was the King of France?”
“In that case, I should say to the King
of France that he ordered me to speak
without reserve, and that I obeyed him. ’
Louis XIV. reflected fora moment or
two, and then stretching out his hand to
the Duke, said :
“ You are right, sir, and lam glad I
consulted you. My song is a very stu
pid one; nevermind, I will not write any
more.”
The King kept his word.— True Flay.
GOOD ADVICE.
* * “Harper” says there is a world of good
advice in this passage from a letter of Charles
Lamb, to Bernard Barton, the Quaker poet:
“You are too much apprehensive about
your complaint. The best way in these
cases is to keep yourself as ignorant as
you can —as ignorant as the world was
before Galen—of the entire inner con
stractions of the animal man ; not to be
conscious of a midriff; to hold kidneys
(save of sheep and swine) to be an agree
able fiction ; not to know whereabout the
gall grows; to account the circulation of
the blood a mere idle whim of Harvey’s ;
to acknowledge no mechanism not visi
ble. For, once fix the seat of your dis
order, and your fancies flux into it like
so many bad humours. Those medical
gentry choose each his favourite part;
; one takes the lungs, another the liver,
and refers to that whatever in the animal
I economy is amiss.” He goes on to coun
sel his friend, “above all, to use exer
cise ; to keep a good conscience; avoid
tamperings with hard terms of art, ‘vis
cosity,’ ‘scirrhosity,’ and those bugbears
by which simple patients are scared into
their graves. Believe the general sense
of the mercantile world, which holds that
desks are not deadly. It is the mind ,
and not the limbs , that taints by long sit
tiny. Think of the patience of tailors;
think how long the Lord Chancellor sits ;
think of the brood in jj hen.”
THE TAILOR.
A tailor grown tired of the shop-board,
took a bold leap from his seat into the
pulpit, where he soon acquired great pop
ularity. Elated with success, he attempt
ed to convert the dean of St. Patrick to
the true faith. Accordingly lie introduced
himself to Swift, saying—
“l have a commission from Heaven to
teach you the true father, which you have
so long abused.”
“1 believe you,” replied Swift, “and as
you come to relieve the perplexed state
of my mind at this very instant, you are
well acquainted, no doubt, with that pas
| sage in the Revelation of St. John, where
he describes a mighty angel coming down
from Heaven, with a rainbow on his
head, a book open in his hand, and setting
his right foot upon the sea, and his left
foot upon the earth. lam quite at a loss
to calculate the extent of such a stride;
but 1 know it immediately lies within
the line of your trade, to tell me how
many yards of cloth it would take to
make a pair of breeches for that angel V’
The tailor’s confusion could only be
equalled by the precipitancy of his re
treat.
RANDOM READINGS.
—A hardy son of the ocean on retiring
to his ship, after the taking of Vera Cruz,
captured a donkey, and immediately :
mounted him, but seating himself on the
rump, the animal kicked up and came
near throwing him off. A soldier told
him to sit further forward on the mule
and he would not kick so. The tar re
plied—“l II see you blow’d first; this is
mine, and I’d like to know who will stop
me from riding on the c quarter deck of my
own jackass .”
—“You are no gentleman,” said an an
gry disputant to his antagonist. “Are
you quietly asked the other. “Yes, I j
am, sir !” “Then I am not,” was the j
caustic reply.
—A western editor thinks Hiram Pow
ers, the sculptor, is a swindler, because
he chiseled an unfortunate Greek girl out
of a block of marble.
—Every man has his price, so said
Walpole; but he never said as much of,
woman. The fact is, Walpole judged the
ladies only too correctly, for he knew, as
well as we do, that many of those dear
; creatures are beyond all price !
—‘Have you not mistaken the pew,
: sir? 1 blandly said a Sunday Chesterfield to
a stranger, as he entered it. I beg your
pardon, replied the intruder. “I fear 1
have ; I took it for a Christian’s”
—Why is a clock the most persever
ing thing in creation ? Because it is never
more inclined to go on with its business
than when it is completely wound up.
—“I suppose,” said a quack, while fee
ling the pulse of his patient, “that you
think me a fool.” “Sir,” replied the sick
man, “ I perceive yon can discover a
man’s thoughts by his pulse.”
—.\l rs. Palmita, in her speech at the
Women’s Rights Convention, said that
it had been argued that women were the
wickedest portion of mankind, which po
sition she triumphantly refuted as fol
lows: —A rib taken from a man was
formed into woman, and was accepted as
bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh.
If one rib was so wicked, what a mass of
wickedness the whole man must be!
[December 11^