The death of Stanislaus, king of Poland, was occasioned in a singular manner. Being much addicted to smoking, he generally every day finished many pipes. In knocking out the ashes he set fire to his dressing-gown. As no one was near him, the flames had surrounded him, when the officer on guard, hearing his cries, ran to his assistance, and extinguished the fire. He might have survived, but a singular circumstance accompanied the accident. He had been devout during the last years of his life, and, as a penance for his sins, had worn a girdle with points on the inside; these became heated, and being pressed into his body while the flames were extinguishing, caused a number of wounds, the discharge from which, at his period of life, proved too much for his debilitated constitution. * * * * * Professor Porson was often in pecuniary difficulties. On one occasion he came with a dejected air to a friend, and said he had been walking through the streets of London all the morning, thinking how strange it was that not one of all the crowds he met should know as much about Greek tragic verse as himself, and yet that he could not turn his knowledge into a hundred pounds. In these moments he often talked of retiring forever to the wilds of America, where he formed a plan of living in solitary happiness, without a book or a friend. * * * * * One evening, at the Literary Fund Club, Mr. Incledon having sung with great effect Mr. T. Dibdin's ballad of "May we ne'er want a friend, or a bottle to give him," an elderly gentleman whispered in Mr. T. Dibdin's ear, "Ah! my dear sir, these are the true things of the old school; what a pity it is no one living is found to write such ditties now!" * * * * * _Printed and published by J LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset House,) and sold by all Newsmen and Booksellers._