It has been stated that Porson could not make himself generally agreeable; but it is well known that he had a strong turn for the humorous, and was almost always successful in his strokes of wit, so that it cannot be doubted that his society was courted even by the superficial; and we have heard from several of his surviving friends that, though his coarseness was sometimes offensive, he was often a welcome guest at the tea-table. He was also very happy in connecting classical allusions with ludicrous associations; and Professor Dobree, in his inaugural Prælection, speaks rapturously of the delight which Porson’s broad vernacular translations from Aristophanes afforded to his intimates at college. Some of his jeux d’esprit have been printed in the Classical Journal; the poem called ‘The Devil’s Walk’ was till lately attributed to him: it is stated in the last edition of Coleridge’s works to be the joint production of that poet and of Southey. It may be necessary to say a few words in conclusion on those two peculiarities for which perhaps Porson is most talked about at the present day: his extraordinary memory, and his fondness for the manual labour of writing. The former he attributed in great measure to the latter. He told a friend, that he recollected nothing which he had not transcribed three times, or read at least six times; adding the assurance, that any one who would take the same trouble would acquire the same powers. We should incline to ascribe the tenacity of his recollection, so far as it depended on cultivation, in great measure to the early training of his father, who taught him the rules of arithmetic without the use of book or pencil; and his proficiency was such, that at nine years of age he is said to have been able to extract cube roots in his head. His memory was as indiscriminate as it was retentive and capacious. Proper names of no importance, foolish ballads, and prosing tales he could recall as easily, and repeat as accurately, as the passages of ancient authors which he required for the illustration or correction of a line of Euripides: he loved to recite, and was equally ready to repeat, ‘Jack the Giant Killer,’ or half a book of Milton, to his wearied company. As to his penmanship, it has been objected to him that he wasted many hours in an employment which would have better suited a country writing-master than a man of such talents. But it must be recollected that a reader of Greek MSS. must also be a scribe himself; and a great deal of the facility with which Porson performed his collations is to be attributed to his practice as a calligrapher. And if, as he used to say, his memory was principally formed by repeated copying, he certainly did not throw away his time; for all that he did in the way of illustrating Greek authors was mainly owing to his memory. And the world has at least derived one benefit from the perfection of Porson’s handwriting, in the adoption by the English University presses