For the surgical department of the profession, he always entertained a decided distaste, although the following extract from a letter of my correspondent Mr. Le Grice will show that, for once at least, he had the merit of mending a broken head. "The first time I ever saw Davy was on the Battery rocks; we were alone bathing, and he pointed out to me a good place for diving; at the same time he talked about the tides, and Sir Isaac Newton, in a manner that greatly amazed me. I perhaps should not have so distinctly remembered him, but on the following day, by not exactly marking the spot he had pointed out, I was nearly killed by diving on a rock, and he came as Mr. Borlase's assistant to dress the wound." It was his great delight to ramble along the sea-shore, and often, like the orator of Athens, would he on such occasions declaim against the howling of the wind and waves, with a view to overcome a defect in his voice, which, although only slightly perceptible in his maturer age, was in the days of his boyhood exceedingly discordant. I may be allowed to observe, that the peculiar intonation he employed in his public addresses, and which rendered him obnoxious to the charge of affectation, was to be referred to a laborious effort to conceal this natural infirmity. It was also clear that he was deficient in that quality which is commonly called "a good ear," and with which the modulation of the voice is generally acknowledged to have an obvious connexion. Those who knew him intimately will readily bear testimony to this fact. Whenever he was deeply absorbed in a chemical research, it was his habit to hum some tune, if such it could be called, for it was impossible for any one to discover the air he intended to sing: indeed, Davy's music became a subject of raillery amongst his friends; and Mr. Children informs me, that, during an excursion, they attempted to teach him the air of 'God save the King,' but their efforts were unavailing. It may be a question how far the following fact, with which I have just been made acquainted, admits of explanation upon this principle. On entering a volunteer infantry corps, commanded by a Captain Oxnam, Davy could never emerge from the awkward squad; no pains could make him keep the step; and those who were so unfortunate as to stand before him in the ranks, ought to have been heroes invulnerable in the heel. This incapacity, as may be readily supposed, occasioned him considerable annoyance, and he engaged a serjeant to give him private lessons, but it was all to no purpose. In the platoon exercise he was not more expert; and he whose electric battery was destined to triumph over the animosity of nations, could never be taught to shoulder a musket in his native town.