DEATH OF SIR CHARLES BELL.
This distinguished surgeon died suddenly on April 29, 1842, at Hallow Park, near Worcester, while on his way to Malvern. He was out sketching on the 28th, being particularly pleased with the village church, and some fine trees which are beside it; observing that he should like to repose there when he was gone. Just four days after this sentiment had been expressed, his mortal remains were accordingly deposited beside the rustic graves which had attracted his notice, and so recently occupied his pencil. There is a painful admonition in this fulfilment.
CLASSIC PUN.
It was suggested to a distinguished gourmet, what a capital thing a dish all fins (turbot’s fins) might be made. “Capital,” said he; “dine with me on it to-morrow.” “Accepted.” Would you believe it? when the cover was removed, the sacrilegious dog of an Amphytrion had put into the dish “Cicero De finibus.” “There is a work all fins,” said he.
POETRY OF THE SEA.
Campbell was a great lover of submarine prospects. “Often in my boyhood,” says the poet, “when the day has been bright and the sea transparent, I have sat by the hour on a Highland rock admiring the golden sands, the emerald weeds, and the silver shells at the bottom of the bay beneath, till, dreaming about the grottoes of the Nereids, I would not have exchanged my pleasure for that of a connoisseur poring over a landscape by Claude or Poussin. Enchanting nature! thy beauty is not only in heaven and earth, but in the waters under our feet. How magnificent a medium of vision is the pellucid sea! Is it not like poetry, that embellishes every object that we contemplate?”