e a few pieces
in England, done by that same Sangpree; but there they are in no
estimation; we have more taste among us than to relish the productions
of such a miserable gout. A'n't he an ignorant coxcomb, doctor?" The
physician, ashamed of his companion's blunder, thought it was necessary,
for the honour of his wan character, to take notice of it before the
stranger, and therefore answered his question by repeating this line
from Horace:--

Mutato nomine, de te fabula narratur.

The painter, who was rather more ignorant of Latin than of French,
taking it for granted that this quotation of his friend conveyed an
assent to his opinion, "Very true," said he, "Potato domine date, this
piece is not worth a single potato." Peregrine was astonished at this
surprising perversion of the words and meaning of a Latin line, which,
at first, he could not help thinking was a premeditated joke; but,
upon second thoughts, he saw no reason to doubt that it was the
extemporaneous effect of sheer pertness and ignorance, at which he
broke out into an immoderate fit of laughter. Pallet, believing that the
gentleman's mirth was occasioned by his arch animadversion upon the work
of Sangpree, underwent the same emotion in a much louder strain, and
endeavoured to heighten the jest by more observations of the same
nature; while the doctor, confounded at his impudence and want of
knowledge, reprimanded him in these words of Homer:--

Siga, me tis allos Achaion touton akouse muthon.

This rebuke, the reader will easily perceive, was not calculated for the
meridian of his friend's intellects, but uttered with a view of raising
his own character in the opinion of Mr. Pickle, who retorted this parade
of learning in three verses from the same author, being part of the
speech of Polydamas to Hector, importing that it is impossible for one
man to excel in everything.

The self-sufficient physician, who did not expect such a repartee from
a youth of Peregrine's appearance, looked upon his reply as a fair
challenge, and instantly rehearsed forty or fifty lines of the Iliad
in a breath. Observing that the stranger made no effort to match this
effusion, he interpreted his silence into submission; then, in order to
ascertain his victory, insulted him with divers fragments of authors,
whom his supposed competitor did not even know by name; while Mr. Pallet
stared with admiration at the profound scholarship of his companion. Our
young gentleman, far fr