To curb his tongue, out of respect to Abernethy's humour, was an impossibility to John Philpot Curran. Eight times Curran (who was personally unknown to Abernethy) had called on the great surgeon; and eight times Abernethy had looked at the orator's tongue (telling him that it was the most unclean and utterly abominable tongue in the world); had curtly advised him to drink less, and not abuse his stomach with gormandizing; had taken a guinea, and had bowed him out of the room. On the ninth visit, just as he was about to be dismissed in the same summary fashion, Curran said, "Mr. Abernethy, I have been here on eight different days, and I have paid you eight different guineas, but you have never yet listened to the symptoms of my complaint. I am resolved, sir, not to leave the room till you satisfy me by doing so." With a good-natured laugh, Abernethy leaned back in his chair and said, "Oh! very well, sir; I am ready to hear you out. Go on, give me the whole--your birth, parentage, and education. I wait your pleasure. Pray be as minute and tedious as you can." Curran gravely began:--"Sir, my name is John Philpot Curran. My parents were poor, but, I believe, honest people, of the province of Munster, where also I was born, at Newmarket, in the county of Cork, in the year one thousand seven hundred and fifty. My father being employed to collect the rents of a Protestant gentleman of small fortune, in that neighbourhood, procured my admission into one of the Protestant free schools, where I obtained the first rudiments of my education. I was next enabled to enter Trinity College, Dublin, in the humble sphere of a sizar--." And so he went steadily on, till he had thrown Abernethy into convulsions of laughter. WITTICISMS OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. "What is the difference," asked Archbishop Whately of a young clergyman he was examining, "between a form and a ceremony? The meaning seems nearly the same; yet there is a very nice distinction." Various answers were given. "Well," he said, "it lies in this: you sit upon a _form_, but you stand upon _ceremony_." "Morrow's Library" is the Mudie's of Dublin, and the Rev. Mr. Day a popular preacher. "How inconsistent," said Archbishop Whately, "is the piety of certain ladies here! They go to _Day_ for a sermon, and to _Morrow_ for a novel!" At a dinner-party Archbishop Whately called out suddenly to the host: "Mr. ----!" There was silence. "Mr. ----, what is the proper female companion of this John Dory?" After the usual number of guesses the answer came: "_Anne Chovy._" WHITFIELD AND THE KINGSWOOD COLLIERS.