ian Turnebus, a French critic, was so indefatigable in his study,
that it was said of him, as it was of Budaeus, that he spent some hours
in study even on the day he was married.

Frederick Morel had so strong an attachment to study, that when he was
informed of his wife's being at the point of death, he would not lay
down his pen, till he had finished what he was upon, and when she was
dead, as she was before they could prevail on him to stir, he was only
heard to reply coldly, "I am very sorry, she was a good woman."

Sir Isaac Newton, when he had any mathematical problems or solutions in
his mind, would never quit the subject on any account; dinner was often
known to be three hours ready for him before he could be brought to
table. His man often said, when he was getting up in the morning, and
began to dress, he would, with one leg in his breeches, sit down again
on the bed, and remain there for hours before he got his clothes on.

Mr. Abraham Sharp, the astronomer, through his love of study, was very
irregular as to his meals, which he frequently took in the following
manner: a little square hole, something like a window, made a
communication between the room where he usually studied, and another
chamber in the house, where a servant could enter, and before this hole
he had contrived a sliding board, the servant always placing his
victuals in the hole, without speaking a word or making the least noise,
and when he had leisure he visited it to see what it contained, and to
satisfy his hunger or thirst. But it often happened that the breakfast,
the dinner, and the supper remained untouched by him, so deeply was he
engaged in his calculations and solemn musings. At one time after his
provisions had been neglected for a long season, his family became
uneasy, and resolved to break in upon his retirement; he complained, but
with great mildness, that they had disconcerted his thoughts in a chain
of calculations which had cost him intense application for three days
successively. On an old oak table, where for a long course of years he
used to write, cavities might easily be perceived, worn by the perpetual
rubbing of his arms and elbows.[8]

SWAINE.

[8] Mr. Colton used to say that he wrote his treasurable,
"Lacon: or, many things in a few words," upon a small, rickety
deal table. We perceive from Galignani's _Messenger_, that Mr.
Colton put an end to his existence, a few days since, at
Fontainbleau