often, not until the letter had lain weeks, or even months, on his writing-desk. That out of the name of Epicurus was coined a synonym for indulgence and sensuality, when that virtuous philosopher "placed his felicity not in the pleasures of the body, but the mind, and tranquillity thereof;" who "was contented with bread and water;" and when he would feast with Jove, "desired no other addition than a piece of Cytheridian cheese." That Phidias made his sitting statue of Jupiter so large "that if he had risen up he had borne up the top of the temple." That Canova, whenever the conversation turned upon sculpture, exhibited "a freshly-bedaubed tablet," "with a smile of paternal pride." That Goethe undervalued himself as a poet, claiming only superiority over his "century" in "the difficult science of colors." That Jerrold was ambitious to write a treatise on natural philosophy. That Paul Jones, the "hero of desperate sea-fights," was enamored of Thomson's Seasons. That Bonaparte, who "overran Europe with his armies," "recreated himself with the wild rhapsodies of Ossian." That John Wesley, who "set all in motion," was himself (as described by Robert Hall) "perfectly calm and phlegmatic"--"the quiescence of turbulence." That Persius, whose satires are most licentious, sharp, and full of bitterness, is described as "very chaste, though a beautiful young man: sober, as meek as a lamb, and as modest as a young virgin." That Luis de Camoens, the greatest of the Portuguese poets, for a long time was supported by a devoted Javanese servant, Antonio, who collected alms for him during the night, and nursed him during the day. That Paulo Borghese, pronounced almost as good a poet as Tasso, was master of fourteen trades, and died because he could get employment in none. That Bentivoglio, "whose comedies will last with the Italian language," having dissipated a noble fortune in acts of charity and benevolence, and fallen into misery in his old age, was refused admittance into a hospital which he himself had erected. That Demosthenes "threw down his arms when he came within sight of the enemy, and lost that credit in the camp which he gained in the pulpit." That Socrates, by the oracle adjudged to be the wisest of mortals, "when he appeared in the attempt of some public performance before the people," "faltered in the first onset;" and "did not recover himself, but was hooted and hissed home again." That Plato, the philosopher, was "so dashed out of countenance by an illiterate rabble as to demur, and hawk, and hesitate, before he could get to the end of one short sentence." That Theophrastus was "such another coward, who, beginning to make an oration, was presently struck down with fear, as if he had seen some ghost or hobgoblin." That Isocrates was so bashful and timorous, that though he taught rhetoric, yet he could never have the confidence to speak in public. That Cicero, that master of Roman eloquence, "begun his speeches with a low,