We all know that Sir Humphry Davy was the creator of
electro-chemistry--that he was the inventer of the safety-lamp; but few
are aware that he was also a poet, and that the chemist wrote the prologue
to the _Honey Moon_. We knew that he was skilful in angling, for he was
the author of _Salmonia_; but we did not know that he was the original
Green Man, and went a-fishing in a green dress, with a broad-brimmed green
hat stuck with artificial flies, and being, in short, all green, down to
his boots of Indian rubber. He was also an epicure of the drollest kind,
for he was curious in tasting every thing that had never been tasted
before, and interfered himself in the composition of dishes intended for
his table, thereby encountering the wrath of strange cooks, and running
serious risks in inn-kitchens. We have long heard his name coupled with
aristocratic parties, but we see how he contrived to reconcile the calls
of the laboratory and the invitations of great people. He worked to the
last moment; and, when he was too late for dinner, covered his dirty shirt
with a clean one, there being no time for changing it. He has been known
to wear five _strata_ of shirts at a time, and to have greatly surprised
his friends by his rapid transitions from a state of corpulency to that of
considerable leanness. This was when, at some moment of leisure, he
contrived to find time to despoil himself of his _exuvia_. All Sir
Humphry's experience in high circles (and in the plenitude of his fame he
commanded any rank) never gave him ease of manner: he lacked the original
familiarity with polished society, and his best efforts at pleasing were
marred with a disagreeable bearing, which might sometimes be called
pertness, sometimes superciliousness.--As in his dress he oscillated
between a dandy and a sloven, so in his manners he vibrated from
familiarity to hauteur. In all personal matters he missed the golden
mean.--Spectator Newspaper.

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