Gifford and Drew were both shoemakers; so was Holcroft, whose dramatic pieces have done him more credit than his political principles. Robert Bloomfield was a shoe-maker, when he wrote his "Farmer's Boy." Dr. William Carey, Professor of Sanscrit and Bengalee in the College of Fort William, Calcutta, and translator of the Scriptures into many of the Eastern languages, was in early life a shoe-maker in Northamptonshire; and Mr. John Strothers, the author of "The Poor Man's Sabbath," "The Peasant's Death," and other poems, is still, I believe, a shoemaker. I could add other names of some celebrity to the list. And whence it happens that the old adage, "ne sutor ultra crepidam," should be so often set at nought, might furnish matter for pleasant speculation. Perhaps the admonitory proverb originated in the overweening and rediculous ambition of the gentlemen of the "last." But we do not perceive in either of the instances above, that "Cynthius aurem vellit et admonuit."