“King Solomon in days of old,
The wisest man was reckon’d:
I fear as much cannot be told
Of Solomon the Second.”
A HOST OF SINGULARITIES
Are recorded of the famous Cantab and Etonian, the Rev. George Harvest, B. D., who was one day walking in the Temple Gardens, London, with the son of his patron, the great Speaker Onslow, when he picked up a curious pebble, observing he would keep it for his friend, Lord Bute. He and his companion were going to The Beef-steak Club, then held in Ivy-lane. Mr. Onslow asked him what o’clock it was, upon which he took out his watch, and observed they had but ten minutes good. Another turn or two was proposed, but they had scarcely made half the length of the walk, when he coolly put the pebble into his fob, and threw his watch into the Thames. He was at another time in a boat with the same gentleman, when he began to read a favourite Greek author (for, like Porson, his coat pockets generally contained a moderate library) with such emphasis and strange gesticulations, that
HIS WIG AND HAT FELL INTO THE WATER,
And he coolly stepped overboard to recover them, without once dreaming that it was not terra-firma, and was fished out with great difficulty. He frequently wrote a letter to one person, forgot to subscribe his name to it, and directed it to another. On one occasion he provided himself with three sermons, having been appointed to preach before the Archdeacon and Clergy of the district. Some wags got them, and having intermixed the leaves, stitched them together in that state, and put them into his sermon-case. He mounted the pulpit at the usual time, took his text, but soon surprised his reverend audience by taking leave of the thread of his discourse. He was, however, so insensible to the dilemma in which he was placed, that he went preaching on. At last the congregation became impatient, both from the length and the nature of his sermon. First the archdeacon slipped out, then the clergy, one by one, followed by the rest of the congregation; but he never flagged, and would have finished
HIS TRIPLE, THRICE-CONFUSED DISCOURSE,
Had not the clerk reminded him that they were the sole occupants of the lately-crowded church. He went down to Cambridge to vote for his Eton contemporary,
THE CELEBRATED LORD SANDWICH,
When the latter was candidate for the dignity of High-steward of the University, in opposition to Pitt. His lordship invited him to dine with some friends at the Rose Inn. “Apropos, my lord,” exclaimed Harvest, during the meal, “whence do you derive your nick-name of Jemmy Twitcher?” “Why,” said his lordship, “from some foolish fellow.” “No, no,” said Harvest, “not from some, for every body calls you so;” on which his lordship, knowing it to be the favourite dish of his quondam friend, put a huge slice of plum-pudding upon his plate, which effectually stopped his mouth. His lordship has the credit of being the originator and first President of the Cambridge Oriental Club. He was also