Lord Ashburnham was accustomed to quote the following epitaph which he had come across in a country churchyard as a perfect exemplification of poetry, piety, and politeness:
“You who stand around my grave,
And say, ‘His life is gone;’
You are mistaken—pardon me—
My life is but begun.”
COLERIDGE, THE POET.
Coleridge was lodging at Ramsgate, where his reputation as a poet was known. The servant-maid entering his room, informed him that he was wanted, there being a person at the door inquiring for a poet, on going out he found it was the pot-boy from the public-house, whose cry of “Any pots for the Angel?” the girl had mistaken for a demand for a poet.
JOHN KEMBLE’S RIVAL.
John Kemble in performing one of his favourite parts at a country theatre was much interrupted by a squalling baby. Able to endure the rival performance no longer, he walked with solemn step to the front of the stage, and addressing the audience in his most tragic tones, said, “Ladies and gentlemen, unless the play is stopped the child cannot possibly go on.”
APPETITE OF LOUIS XIV.