SIR ANTHONY CARLISLE,
Who has often filled the anatomical chair at the Royal Academy, is no less abstruse and instructive than pleasant and amusing. His illustrative anecdotes are always excellent, and his way of telling them quite dramatic. We have found him even more agreeable as a private talker than as a lecturer; he is rich in the old lore of England—he will hunt a phrase through several reigns—propose derivations for words which are equally ingenious and learned—follow a proverb for generations back, and discuss on the origin of language as though he had never studied aught beside: he knows more than any other person we ever met with of the biography of talented individuals—in the philosophy of common life he is quite an adept—a capital chronologist—a man of fine mind and most excellent memory: his experience has, of course, been very great, and he has taken good advantage of it. We remember he once amused us for half a day by adducing instances of men who, although possessed of mean talents, had enabled themselves to effect wonders, by simply hoarding in their minds, and subsequently acting upon, an immense number of facts: from this subject we naturally enough fell into a discourse on the importance, in many cases and situations, of attending to trifles. As a proof of this, he mentioned a circumstance which occurred to an eminent surgeon within his own memory; it was as follows: A gentleman, residing about a post-stage from town, met with an accident which eventually rendered amputation of a limb indispensable. The surgeon alluded to was requested to perform the operation, and went from town with two pupils to the gentleman's house, on the day appointed, for that purpose. The usual preliminaries being arranged, he proceeded to operate; the tourniquet was applied, the flesh divided, and the bone laid bare, when, to his astonishment and horror, he discovered that his instrument-case was without the saw! Here was a situation! Luckily his presence of mind did not forsake him. Without apprising his patient of the terrible fact, he put one of his pupils into his carriage, and told the coachman to gallop to town. It was an hour and a half before the saw was obtained, and during all that time the patient lay suffering. The agony of the operator, though great, was scarcely a sufficient punishment for his neglect in not seeing that all his instruments were in the case before he started.
Basil Montagu, the water drinking barrister, who was present during the narration of this anecdote, and the previous discussion, mentioned another instance of the propriety of noticing those minor circumstances in life, which are usually suffered to pass unheeded by people in general. A man of talent was introduced into a company of strangers; he scarcely spoke after his first salutation until he wished the party good night. Almost every one dubbed him a fool; the lady hostess, who, be it remarked, had not been previously informed of the abilities of her new guest, was of a different opinion, "I am sure," said she, "that you are all wrong; for, though he said nothing, I remarked that he always laughed in the right place."—Every Night Book.