where he was appointed assistant' in the regimental hospital. This change was a vast improvement in Mr. C.'s condition; and happy was the day, also, on which it took place, for the sake of the sick patients; for, Silas Tomken Cumberbatch's amusing stories, they said, did them more good than all the "doctor's physic!" Many ludicrous dialogues sometimes occurred between Mr. C. and his new disciples; particularly with the "geographer." The following are some of these dialogues.

If he began talking to one or two of his comrades, (for they were all on a perfect equality, except, that those who went through their exercise the best, stretched their necks a little above the "awkward squad;" in which ignoble class Mr. C. was placed, as the pre-eminent member, almost by acclamation.) If he began to speak, notwithstanding, to one or two, others drew near, increasing momently, till by and by the sick beds were deserted, and Mr. C. formed the centre of a large circle.

On one occasion, he told them of the Peloponnesian war, which lasted twenty-seven years. "There must have been famous promotion there," said one poor fellow, haggard as a death's head. Another, tottering with disease, ejaculated, "can

you tell, Silas, how many rose from the rauks ?"

He now still more excited their wonderment, by recapitulating the feats of Archimedes. As the narrative proceeded, one restrained his scepticism, till he was almost ready to burst, and then vociferated, "Silas, that's a lie !" "D'ye think so?" said Mr. C. smiling, and went on with his story. The idea, however, got amongst them, that Silas's fancy was on the stretch, when Mr. C. finding that this tact would not do, changed his subject, and told them of a famous general, called Alexander the Great. As by a magic spell, the flagging attention was revived, and several, at the same moment, to testify their eagerness, called out, "The general! The general!" I'll tell

you all about him," said Mr. C. when impatience marked every countenance. He then told them whose son this Alexander the Great was; no less than Philip of Macedon. "I never heard of him," said one. "I think I have," said another, (ashamed of being thought ignorant) "Silas, wasn't he a Cornish man? I knew one of the Alexanders at Truro!"

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Mr. C. now went on describing to them, in glowing colours, the valour, and the wars, and the

Conquests of this famous general.

"Ah," said

óne man, whose open mouth had complimented the speaker, for the preceding half hour; "Ah," said he, "Silas, this Alexander must have been as great a man as our Colonel !”

Mr. C. now told them of the "Retreat of the Ten Thousand." "I don't like to hear of retreat," said one. "Nor I," said a second: "I'm for marching on." Mr. C. now told of the incessant conflicts of these brave warriors, and of the vir tues of the "square." They were a parcel of said one. "Yes," said another,

crack men,'

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'their bayonets fixed, and sleeping on their arms day and night." "I should like to know," said a fourth, "what rations were given with all that hard fighting;" on which an Irishman replied, "to be sure, every time the sun rose, two pounds of good ox beef, and plenty of whiskey."

At another time he told them of the invasion of Xerxes, and his crossing the wide Hellespont. "Ah," said a young recruit, (a native of an obscure village in Kent, who had acquired a decent smattering of geography,—knowing well that the world was round, and, that the earth was divided into land and water, and, furthermore, that there were more countries on the globe

VOL. II

G

than England, and who now wished to show off a little before his comrades ;) said this young man of Kent; “Silas, I know where that "Hellspont" is. I think it must be the mouth of the Thames, for 'tis very wide."

Mr. C. now told them of the heroes of Thermopylæ, when the geographer interrupted him, by saying, "Silas, I think I know, too, where that 'Thermopple❞ is; isn't it somewhere up in the north ?" "You are quite right, Jack," said Mr. C. "it is to the north of the Line." A conscious elevation marked his countenance, and he rose at once, five degrees in the estimation of his friends.

In one of these interesting conversaziones, when Mr. C. was sitting at the foot of a bed, surrounded by his gaping comrades, (who were always solicitous of, and never wearied with, his stories,) the door suddenly burst open, and in came two or three gentlemen, (his friends) amid the uniform dresses, in vain, for some time, looking for their man. At length, they pitched on Mr. C. and taking him by the arm, led him, in silence, out of the room, (a picture, indeed, for a Wilkie!) As the supposed deserter passed the threshold, one of the astonished auditors uttered, with a sigh, "poor Silas ! I wish they may let

him off with a cool five hundred!" Mr. C.'s ransom being soon adjusted, his friends had the pleasure of placing him, once more, safe in the University.*

* This account of Mr. Coleridge's military life, I read to Mr. Wade, who remarked that the greater part of what he had heard, Mr. Coleridge had, at different times, repeated to him. Mr. W. having now asked of me permission to peruse the whole of this manuscript; and, recollecting that he had been an old and steady friend of Mr. C. I readily acceded to his wish, and at the same time expressed an earnest desire that, in that case, he would read the Memoir thoughtfully, in my presence, on successive mornings, and, without hesitation, dissent, if he thought it needful, from any of my remarks, or statements.

Mr. Wade finished the reading of the MS. so late as the 10th of August last (1836); when his remarks were, "I have read deliberately the whole manuscript with intense interest, as all who knew Coleridge will, and, I think, those who knew him not. It is Coleridge himself, undisguised. All the statements I believe to be correct. Most of them I know to be such. There is nothing in this Memoir of our friend to which I object; nothing which I could wish to see omitted." He continued, "With respect to those letters relating to opium, I think you would be unfaithful, if you were to suppress them: but that letter addressed to me, must be published, (according to Mr. Coleridge's solemn injunction,) either by you, or myself. The instruction to be derived from this, and his penitential letters addressed to you, is incalculable. All my friends unite with me in this opinion."

Mr. W. related, at this time, one circumstance, received by him from Mr. Coleridge, which was new to me, and which is as follows. One of the men in Mr. C.'s company, had, it appeared, a bad case of the small pox, when Mr. C. was appointed to be his nurse, night