Professor Porson was often in pecuniary difficulties. On one occasion he came with a dejected air to a friend, and said he had been walking through the streets of London all the morning, thinking how strange it was that not one of all the crowds he met should know as much about Greek tragic verse as himself, and yet that he could not turn his knowledge into a hundred pounds. In these moments he often talked of retiring forever to the wilds of America, where he formed a plan of living in solitary happiness, without a book or a friend.
One evening, at the Literary Fund Club, Mr. Incledon having sung with great effect Mr. T. Dibdin's ballad of "May we ne'er want a friend, or a bottle to give him," an elderly gentleman whispered in Mr. T. Dibdin's ear, "Ah! my dear sir, these are the true things of the old school; what a pity it is no one living is found to write such ditties now!"
Footnote 1: [(return)]
Vide MIRROR, p. 98, Vol. iii.
Footnote 2: [(return)]
Biographical Memoir of Mr. Canning, with a Portrait, MIRROR, Vol. iv.
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