beans or for pennies, and sometimes, though rarely, as high as sixpenny points. Nevertheless he was quite as anxious to win, as if he had been playing for a high stake. The mention of whist puts me in mind of an anecdote concerning Mr. Fox, which was told to me by Mr. Jerningham, the poet. Mr. Fox was playing a rubber, having the late Duke of Grafton for his adversary. The stake was very high, and there was also a considerable bet between the Duke and Mr. Fox on the rubber, the success of which depended on the game then going on, and which, from the cards in his own hand, Mr. Fox must have won but in this crisis, his partner unfortunately revoked, and they consequently lost the rubber; upon which Mr. Fox, without the least change of countenance, or making a single remark on the revoke, said to the Duke of Grafton with perfect good-humour, "Duke, you'll give us our revenge, I hope !"

I recollect many years ago meeting Parr at Cossey, in Norfolk, the seat of the late Sir William Jerningham, who was the beau idéal of an English man of quality. This happened shortly after the death of Pope Pius the Sixth, at which period Mr. Eustace, the author of the Classical Tour in Italy, and who had been an intimate friend of Burke, was Sir William's chaplain. The Doctor, upon coming into the library, after making his obeisance to Sir William and Lady* Jerningham, took Mr. Eustace into a corner of the apartment, and began talking of Pius the Sixth in terms of high praise for his virtues, and of sympathy with his sufferings. He then inquired very anxiously about the future pope, saying," In these times, it is of the utmost importance that you should have a good pope.'

During six weeks which I passed at Cossey, I daily enjoyed the society and conversation of Mr. Eustace, and had thus an opportunity of appreciating his classical acquirements, which were of the first order. I was therefore not at all surprised at the celebrity which he subsequently acquired by his travels. As a pastor, he was unremitting in his attention to his numerous flock, that assembled every Sunday at the chapel in Sir Wm. Jerningham's house. With the Protestant curate of the parish, who often dined at Cossey, he lived in habits of friendly intimacy. His manners were polished, gentle, and unassuming; and his religion was without the least tinge of intolerance or bigotry.

The late Hon. Lady Jerningham, the mother of Lord Stafford, and aunt of Viscount Dillon, and who was the lineal descendant of Charles the Second, and Barbara Duchess of Cleveland. She died lately at her house in Bolton-row. Her manners and accomplishments would have graced a throne, and her benevolence was unbounded. Her person was so majestic as to inspire a degree of awe on a first acquaintance with her. At Bolton-row, and at Cossey, the French nobility of the highest class were, after the French Revolution, received with the utmost kindness and hospitality. The Dukes d'Uzez (premier Duc et Pair), De Coigny, Blacas (then Comte de Blacas), the Marquis de Bouzzolles (grandson of Marshal Berwick, and thus great grandson of King James the Second), and the Comte Lally de Tolendal, were frequent guests. M. de Lally was a most entertaining companion, and fond of quoting Gibbon, with whom he had been intimate.

A new chapel was a few years afterwards built near the house, which is considered to be a beautiful specimen of Gothic architecture. The interior is decorated with windows of antique painted glass. The only architect on this occasion was Sir William's youngest son, Mr. Edward Jerningham, of whom mention has been already made in these Recollections.

During his daily walks in the park, in which I often accompanied him, he always carried in his pocket a volume of the Barbou edition of the classics. Tacitus, Virgil, and Cicero were his favourite authors. I hope the reader will pardon this digression, which I will conclude with a story related to me by Mr. Eustace, who, to the great regret of his friends, died soon after his arrival in Italy for the second time. The story is as follows:-The Pope's Nuncio once dined with a party, most of whom were ultra-protestants. After dinner, a good deal of wine having been drunk, one of the party, being desirous to quiz the Nuncio, proposed as a toast-" The Devil." When the bottle came round, the Nuncio, to the astonishment of the company, took up his glass and gave the health of his satanic majesty with the utmost gravity. Then, after a pause of a few minutes, the Nuncio rose, and requested that he might be allowed to propose a toast; which being agreed to, he gave-" The Pope." This toast having produced murmurs of disapprobation, the Nuncio again got up, and said,-" Gentlemen, I am really quite surprised at your objecting to my giving as a toast, the head of my church, after I have, in compliance with your wishes, drank the head of yours." To return to my preceptor. The solicitor whom Parr employed on all occasions, and on whose judgment and integrity he justly placed the utmost reliance, was Mr. Oddie, senior, of Carey-street, a gentleman, who, from his very advanced age, may be considered the father, and, from his talents and knowledge, the head of that branch of the profession, and who has, for nearly half a century, been looked up to by many individuals of high rank, as their adviser, guide, and friend. At his hospitable table there were sometimes tremendous colloquial conflicts between him and Dr. Parr on politics; the former being a zealous Tory and Pittite, and the latter being, as is well known, a staunch Whig and Foxite. On these occasions the violence of each of them was alarming. They always, however, parted in good humour. A near relative of mine acted as a mediator: but he was not quite impartial; for a more zealous Foxite than himself could not well be imagined. Parr, in speaking to me of Mr. Oddie, said,-"His understanding is one of the strongest I ever grappled with, and his heart is excellent; but in politics he is a fanatic." Mr. Oddie would probably say the same of the Doctor. This only shows the warmth of their respective political at

tachments.

The public mind has been lately much occupied on the subject of Richard Brinsley Sheridan. I have no intention to enter into the arena of controversy respecting that most highly gifted man, whose name I only introduce in these reminiscences for the purpose of recording two instances of his strange forgetfulness. I remember Parr's telling me that Sheridan, many years ago, invited a party to dinner, including Dr. Parr, the late Duke of Leinster, General Fitzpatrick, and Lord John Townshend, who accordingly were assembled at Hertford-street, May Fair, on the day appointed, when, to their astonishment, they found

The steady adherence of my relative to the political principles of Mr. Fox, formed a point of union between him and Dr. Parr, which cemented their mutual regard. It was to that relative a source of consolation and delight in his latter years to be honoured with the kind and friendly attentions of Lord Holland, whom he always mentally identified with his illustrious uncle.

that Mr. Sheridan was absent, and that no dinner had been ordered; upon hearing which intelligence, they all adjourned to the Thatched House Tavern. The other instance is as follows:-A friend of mine, who had been several times invited by Sheridan to come and visit him at his house at Polesden in Surrey, having occasion to go into that neighbourhood, thought that it would be a good opportunity to avail himself of Sheridan's invitation. Upon inquiry, however, where Polesden House was situated, he discovered that it had long since been pulled down.

I hope that my relating these anecdotes concerning Mr. Sheridan will not be thought in any degree inconsistent with the greatest admiration of his extraordinary endowments. His fame, as an orator and dramatic writer, will last as long as the English language; whilst the recollection of his foibles and errors, so frequently the accompaniments of splendid talents, and in his case so often the subject of malignant exaggeration, will in a few years be absorbed by sorrow and regret for the misfortunes and sufferings which threw a gloom over the latter years of his chequered life.

Dr. Parr had a great dislike to Bishop Horsley. That learned prelate, in the course of a speech in the House of Lords, said that "the people had nothing to do with the laws but to obey them." This sentiment, which at the time was much commented upon in the newspapers, excited Parr's indignation to so great a degree, that he wrote on the occasion a poetical remonstrance to the Bishop in English blank verse, Latin iambicks, and Greek hexameters, in which latter he denominated Horsley Ιππωτης.

My preceptor was not a great admirer of the poems of Ossian. Whilst reading with him the " Elements of Criticism," he often made me skip over the passages quoted by Kaims from Macpherson's work.

Of all Parr's friends, there was no one to whom he was more attached than to Dr. Routh, the President of Magdalen College, Oxford, in whose house, when he visited Oxford, he was always domiciliated. I recollect that on one occasion he took me with him to dine in the Hall of Trinity College, to meet Mr. Kett, who was a fellow and also a tutor of Trinity, Dr. Routh, and several other Oxonians. The President's coming was considered a great favour, as he rarely absented himself from his own college. Being a thorough valetudinarian, and consequently afraid of a breath of air, he came wrapped up in flannels, although in the midst of summer, and was preceded by an avant-courier, with directions to ascertain that all the windows of the different rooms through which he had to pass, were shut. After dinner we adjourned to Kett's rooms, in Trinity College, where I listened for many hours to a most interesting conversation, chiefly on subjects connected with the classics. The Doctor rode his hobby-horse in fine style; and quotations from Homer, Virgil, Euripides, Sophocles, Demosthenes, Tacitus, and Cicero, flew about in every direction, amidst clouds of smoke and deep potations of Kett's old port.

I perfectly agree with the writer of the article in a former Number of this Magazine, entitled "The latter Years of Dr. Parr," in thinking that there is no foundation for the story of my preceptor's placing himself, by inference, above the late Dr. Burney, in speaking of the triumvirate of great Greek scholars. I have heard him say," No one

is better acquainted than Charles Burney with the niceties of the Greek language, particularly with reference to the Greek metres and my godson*," he added, "is also a capital scholar, and a very sensible and agreeable man."

Several years ago Dr. Parr met Cobbet, for the first time, at the house of one of his pupils, who had a vicarage near Southampton. After dinner, the conversation turned upon Mr. Pitt, respecting whom there was a perfect unison of sentiment between them, or what Dr. Johnson would have called a rivality of vituperation. Unluckily, the subject of the learned languages was next started: this was the apple of discord. Cobbet's heresy on that topic is well known; but whatever is his confidence, he must, in an argument on such a subject, have been impar congressus Achilli. Much warmth was evinced on both sides; but they shook hands at parting; and it was after this interview that the Doctor visited Cobbet at Botley.

Mr. Dugald Stewart was a prodigious favourite with my preceptor, who delighted in his writings, the style of which he considered as coming nearer to perfection than that of almost any other writer of his age. "David Hume's style," he said, "was delicious, but abounding in Gallicisms."

At Grove Park, near Warwick, the seat of the late Lord Dormer + (father of the present Lord), Dr. Parr was a frequent guest. Indeed, he often went there without invitation, and in his most ordinary costume. Thither, also, he occasionally sent me on an embassy to obtain the Courier newspaper; and, upon my return, he made me read to him the parliamentary debates, which were at that period full of interest. In the delivery of Mr. Pitt's speeches, I sometimes took a malicious pleasure in giving the utmost possible effect to the brilliant passages, upon which the Doctor would exclaim, "Why, you noodle, do you dwell with such energy upon Pitt's empty declamation? Don't you see, it is all sophistry?" At other moments he would say, "That is powerful; but Fox will answer it." When I pronounced the words, "Mr. Fox rose," Parr would roar out, "Stop!"—and after shaking the ashes out of his pipe, and filling it afresh, he would add, with a marked emphasis, "Now, you dog, do your best!" In the course of the speech in question, he would often interrupt me, in a tone of triumphant exultation, with exclamations such as the following,-" To be sure!"-" Capital !"-" Answer that, if you can, Master Pitt!"and at the conclusion, "That is the speech of the orator and the statesman; Pitt is a mere rhetorician;" adding, after a pause, "a very one, I admit." Sometimes, after hearing the first three or four sentences of a speech of Mr. Pitt, he would say,-"Now, the dog is thinking what he shall say; Fox rushes into the subject at once.' Here let me remark, that when Parr called any of his pupils noodle or dog, or

able

Alluding to the Rev. Dr. Charles Parr Burney, who, since the death of his respected father, has presided over the school at Greenwich, certainly one of the best in England.

+ Lord Dormer, and Mr. Edward Monckton, the late member for Stafford, both stuttered dreadfully. Once, upon the occasion of their meeting in London, Mr. Monckton, seeing Lord Dormer, making a vain attempt to give utterance to his words, said to him, "My dear Lo-or-ord, wh-y do-n't you go to the man that cu-cu-cur-cured me ?"

even in some instances "blockhead," it was a proof that they were in high favour; and on those occasions, his good-natured smile showed, that he spoke in perfect good-humour; but the word "dunce" he always used contemptuously. When engaged in our lessons, he assumed a magisterial gravity of manner; but at other times he conversed with us as friends, and not as pupils, and frequently entertained us with the most amusing anecdotes.

ADVENTURES OF AN ENGLISH OFFICER IN GREECE.

NO. I.

[The present is the first of a series of articles relative to the affairs of Greece, which will be continued from time to time by the author, who is lately returned thither, and intends favouring us with his correspondence.]

HAVING resolved to make a third, for I have already made two crusades to Greece, it is my intention, on my arrival again in that country, to keep a journal of every thing worthy of record which may fall under my observation. In the mean time, I think it may not be amiss to make a retrospect of one or two remarkable events which occurred to me in my late sojourn there, more particularly of the extraordinary treachery and attempt to assassinate Mr. Trelawney, perpetrated, I am grieved to say, by two of my own countrymen, in the cave of Ulysses, on Mount Parnassus. This subject has lately been a frequent topic of conversation in England; but no authentic account of the particulars connected with it has yet been published.

In the month of August 1824, I was at the capital and head-quarters of the Greeks, Napoli di Romania, witnessing with regret the combined dissensions and tardiness of the existing government, which were cruelly marring the favourable chance, afforded by the campaign of that year, for exertion against the Turks. Though so disunited among themselves, so extremely jealous were they of the co-operation of strangers, that they seemed infinitely to prefer losing an advantage to owing it to the influence of a foreigner. They had no native artillery-officers, therefore they would have no artillery: they had no cavalry-officers, and they would have no cavalry. A French military gentleman (a son of General Berton), myself and others, supported by several Greeks of influence, made an attempt to prevail on the government to give their support to our forming a small body of cavalry; but, after dancing attendance on this cross-legged divan, as though it had been the commander-inchief's levee in England, and equally a matter of favour to be employed, we were compelled to abandon the idea! Young Berton went to Smyrna, and, for aught I know, joined the Pasha of Egypt. I left Napoli to join Ulysses, and to accept my friend Trelawney's invitation to visit their mountain-fortress (a remarkable cave on Parnassus), commanded, in the absence of Ulysses, by Trelawney. I began my march towards the Gulf of Lepanto (which I meant to cross into Roumelie) with my little band, or rather gang of twelve soldiers; myself well mounted, and in the costume of the country. The turban girt my shaven brow, and belted pistols pressed my waist, while the sun glanced brightly on the weapons of my following train,'

"Each arm'd as best becomes a man,

With arquebuss and ataghan."

Two mules, pressed into the service by no other right than that of the strong hand, carried our baggage, and each soldier's capote, a most valuable and valued possession, alike our couch and canopy in rain or sunshine. The beasts were driven by a luckless Maureote peasant, whose race were regarded by my Roumeliot soldiers as inferior and degraded, and deserving of no other than the worst treatment. After passing the dilapidated city of Argos, situated at the foot of a rocky mountain, on the summit of which stands a