“Laud we the gods,” we are at length released from a narrative involving so much extravagance and folly; proceed we to one somewhat motley indeed, in its hue, but neither distressing in its progress, nor offensive in its termination.
The subject of this sketch, when first known to the Sexagenarian, was a dissenting minister; he had very respectable talents, but did not shine much as a preacher. He had, however, an elegant mind, with which he had taken considerable pains; and though no very profound scholar, he was well acquainted with the modern languages, and was, in truth, an accomplished gentleman. The career of a dissenting minister in a provincial town, does not display a very wide field for ambition of any denomination; it is not at all surprising, therefore, that our friend became tired both of his situation and profession, and strenuously entered upon the study of the law. If he was not splendidly successful in this new career, it was soon manifest that he had changed for the better. He married a woman of fortune.—The lady who perhaps would have rejected his pretensions as an obscure dissenting parson, had no objection to be designated as Counsellor ⸺’s wife. She did not, however, live a great while, and he inherited her property.
He pursued his occupation diligently, and attended the circuit in that part of the kingdom where his early connections were formed; and before a great length of time had elapsed, married again.—As far as secular matters are concerned, he was still more fortunate than before.—He now was able to contemplate and enjoy the otium cum dignitate, and, from local circumstances and connections, was elevated to a high official situation, where he had formerly spent his youth. In the exercise of his professional talents, he was occasionally apt to forget (a very venial transgression) his origin and former occupation; but there were generally some good natured friends at hand, to give a stimulus to his memory.
He was one day examining a witness who either did not, or was not inclined to remember things so circumstantially as the cause in hand required, when our Barrister became a little angry, and exclaimed, “Why, Friend, you do not seem to remember any thing;” “Yes, I do,” replied the witness, “I very well remember your being a Presbyterian Parson.” This occasioned so much laughter, that the Barrister was greatly disconcerted.
One talent this gentleman possessed to an extraordinary degree of perfection: he could retain the longest sermon from the pulpit, or speech in the senate, or at the bar, with the most circumstantial minuteness, and transcribe it almost verbatim.
Noscenda est mensura sui, spectandaque rebus
In summis minimisque; etiam cum piscis emetur
Ne mullum cupias, cum sit tibi gobio tantum
In loculis.