man; while, from the time he lived in the Abney family, he devoted a third part of his income to charitable purposes. His eyes appear to have lighted up his face; they are described as singularly small and grey, and are said to have been amazingly piercing and expressive. His voice was very fine and, slender, but regular, audible, and pleasant. The anecdote is well known of him that when he was in one of those coffee-houses—then the haunts of men who knew what company they might expect to find, for every particular coterie had its own place of rendezvous—he overheard his name given by one person to another, who said in surprise, “What! is that the great Dr. Watts?” Whereupon he wrote down a verse and handed it to him: Were I so tall to reach the pole, And grasp the ocean in a span, I must be measured by my soul,— The mind’s the standard of the man. We have never thought the anecdote a very likely one; Watts was altogether too quiet, and we may use the word, majestic in his manner to make it possible he would do this. The verse is indeed his, but it occurs in a lengthy poem, and it is possible that it was fitted into a fabulous incident which some inventor of scenic situations thought might be, or ought to be, true. There is another anecdote which has been related of him, although we have seen it attributed to others, how, when once in a coffee-house, and somewhat in the way of a tall giant of a man, he said to Watts, “Let me pass, O giant!” and Watts replied, “Pass on, O pigmy!” “I only referred to your mind,” said the giant; “I also to yours,” replied Watts.