Buffon thus relates the manner in which he acquired a habit of early rising.  “In my youth,” says he, “I was excessively fond of sleep, and that indolence robbed me of much time.  My poor Joseph (a domestic who served him for sixty-five years) was of the greatest benefit to me in overcoming it.  I promised him a crown for every time he should make me get up at six o’clock.  He failed not the next day to rouse me, but I only abused and threatened him.  He tried the day following, and I did the same, which made him desist.  ‘Friend Joseph,’ said I to him at last, ’I have lost my time and you have gained nothing.  You do not know how to manage the matter.  Think only of my promise, and do not regard my threatenings.’  The day following he accomplished his point.  At first I begged, then entreated and abused, and would have discharged him; but he disregarded me, and raised me up by absolute force.  He had his reward every day for my ill-humour at the moment of waking, by thanks, and a crown an hour after.  I owe to poor Joseph at least ten or twelve volumes of my works.”

Cuvier, the celebrated naturalist, was singularly careful of his time, and did not like those who entered his house to deprive him of it.  “I know,” said he, “that Monsieur l’Abbe Hauy comes to see me; our conversation is an exchange; but I do not want a man to come and tell me whether it is hot or cold, raining or sunshine.  My barometer and thermometer know more than all possible visitors; and in my studies in natural history,” added he, “I have not found in the whole animal kingdom a species, or class, or family, who frighten me so much as the numerous family of idlers”

Dr. Pepusch.—­“In one of my visits, very early in life, to that venerable master, Dr. Pepusch,” says Dr. Burney, “he gave me a short lesson, which made so deep an impression that I long endeavoured to practise it.  ’When I was a young man,’ said he, ’I determined never to go to bed at night, till I knew something that I did not know in the morning.’”

TRAVELLING.

A Tiresome Companion.—­The celebrated George Selwyn was once travelling, and was interrupted by the frequent impertinence of a companion, who was constantly teasing him with questions, and asking him how he did.  “How are you now, sir?” said the impertinent.  George, in order to get rid of his importunity, replied, “Very well:  and I intend to continue so all the rest of the journey.”

Charles Lamb.—­A farmer, by chance a companion in a coach with Charles Lamb, kept boring him to death with questions, in the jargon of agriculturists, about crops.  At length he put a poser—­“And pray, sir, how are turnips this year?” “Why that, sir,” stammered out Lamb, “will depend upon the boiled legs of mutton.”

Clans.—­An English gentleman travelling through the Highlands, came to the inn of Letter Finlay, in the braes of Lochaber.  He saw no person near the inn, and knocked at the door.  No answer.  He knocked repeatedly with as little success; he then opened the door, and walked in.  On looking about, he saw a man lying on a bed, whom he hailed thus:  “Are there any Christians in this house?” “No,” was the reply, “we are all Camerons.”