“In the late rebellion in Ireland, the rebels, who had conceived a high degree of indignation against some great banker, passed a resolution that they would burn his notes, which accordingly they did, with great assiduity; forgetting that, in burning his notes, they were destroying his debts, and that for every note which went into the flames, a correspondent value went into the banker’s pocket.”

In every war of the last century this story has been revived.  It would be curious to see if it can be traced back further than Sydney Smith.

From the lecture on Habit, I cull this pleasing anecdote:—­

“The famous Isaac Barrow, the mathematician and divine, had an habitual dislike of dogs, and it proceeded from the following cause:—­He was a very early riser; and one morning, as he was walking in the garden of a friend’s house, with whom he was staying, a fierce mastiff, that used to be chained all day, and let loose all night, for the security of the house, set upon him with the greatest fury.  The doctor caught him by the throat, threw him, and lay upon him; and, whilst he kept him down, considered what he should do in that exigence.  The account the doctor gave of it to his friends was, that he had once a mind to have killed the dog; but he altered his resolution upon recollecting that it would be unjust, since the dog only did his duty, and he himself was to blame for rambling out so early.  At length he called out so loud, that he was heard by some in the house, who came out, and speedily separated the mastiff and the mathematician.  However, it is added, that the adventure gave the doctor a strong habitual aversion for dogs; and I dare say, if the truth were known, fixed in the dog’s mind a still stronger aversion to doctors.”

This last sentence is in exactly the same vein of humour as the comment, in the review of Waterton’s Travels,[31] on the snake that bit itself.  “Mr. Waterton, though much given to sentiment, made a Labairi snake bite itself, but no bad consequences ensued—­nor would any bad consequences ensue, if a court-martial was to order a sinful soldier to give himself a thousand lashes.  It is barely possible that the snake had some faint idea whom and what he was biting.”

The house which was furnished with the products of this Moral Philosophy was No. 18 Orchard Street, Portman Square, and here the Smiths lived till they left London for a rural parish.  Meanwhile, the excellent Bernard had secured some clerical employment for his friend.  Through his influence the Rev. Sydney Smith was elected “alternate Evening Preacher at the Foundling Hospital,” on the 27th of March 1805.  He tried to open a Proprietary Chapel on his own account, but was foiled by the obstinacy of the Rector in whose parish it was situate.[32] He was appointed Morning Preacher at Berkeley Chapel, Mayfair, and combined his duties there with similar duties at Fitzroy Chapel, now St. Saviour’s Church, Fitzroy Square.[33]