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, or Lord Battersea, that a reputation for poetry can. be maintained; nor is it by taking "old copies" that a poet is made, of whom it has been said that "Nature's, and not Moses', is the fit."

CHAP. VI.

"Personæ pallæque."-HOR.

Of mask and gown.-MS. TRANSLATION.

Who, even of the most casual of cockney visitors to Windsor has not heard of Long Chamber, if he has not seen it? and who but a colleger, does not believe it to be a mysterious place where "hidings" are sought? whose echoes on "Montem sure night" once were watched for by the terrified denizens of Windsor. Allow an old colleger to say that no one knows what Long Chamber is but one who has slept the hearty heavy sleep of fatigued boyhood beneath its roof, and has mingled in its busy scenes of fun and frolic. To be sure the fun did occasionally wax rather furious, but one looks back to things like these, if not with a wish to revive them now, at least with less of regret for them than quiet folks might think decorous in a marrying man.

What need I tell of those offerings at the shrine of Thespis which woke the sounds of mirth from many a youthful band? Must I relate how many times I shuffled into my Homer a copy of the last farce from London, and what" pœnas" I got for "studying parts as voкpirηs ὑποκρίτης which I was hypocritical enough to veil under classical enthusiasm? In these pursuits a shuffler gains doubly

he is not only losing time, but doing something very clearly repugnant to the statutes-let him add to them a subscription to Beagles, and waistcoats not of the "color subfuscus," and he has already taken the degree M. A. of the College of Shufflers, or Shuffler of College, as the case may be.

One of the best things of the kind in my memory happened at a masquerade in college. Now, O shades of departed Tugs, bear with me. I will not tell too many tales about things appertaining to the freemasonry of college. But one night in the month of—no matter what, in the year, no matter when, in the "Caput magistracy," (ask Edward Irwin what that means,) of -no matter whom, the event I am about to narrate took place.

"Absence" was over-and many a suspicious bundle was gazed at sidelongwise before it was deposited in its resting-place, from which it would issue in all its "rabbinical" glories at half-past nine. If Homer or Virgil could have surveyed the scene at that hour, how would they have immortalized the soldiers, sailors, tinkers, tailors, ploughboys, and thieves who moved in most admired confusion within those antique walls; and how would they have gloated over an unexpected arrival as an incident in their forthcoming book of the Collegiad. The fun was at its height, and one of us in the immortal tights of Pickwick was addressing the assemblage from a Windsor chair, when the door of the chamber opened, and a well-known lanthorn made its appearance in the hand of what was imagined to be a colleger, drest to represent the servant of the Head Master. The assumption was hailed as admirable, and was considered inferior only to that which followed, which produced no less a person than the H. M. himself! Still for an instant a doubt existed

as to the reality of either or both, but this was soon dispelled, and soldiers and sailors fled in confusion. In this case it was literally

"Cedunt arma toga."

Many a joke has been made on the deeds of that night, whereat both shuffler and master have smiled; and who would be so harsh to me now as to deny my right to speak with pleasure of the masquerade in college?

(To be concluded in our next.)

Nunc vino pellite curas
Cras ingens iterabimus æquor.-HOR.

(For music.)

Why this complaining,
All our hearts straining,

Mournfully straining
Το augur woe ?

Though our last meeting,

'Tis but repeating

One merry greeting,

Before we go.

Then why so fearful?

Let's not be tearful ;

Pass round a cheerful

Health and farewell.

The heart is swelling,
For 'tis foretelling

We in this dwelling

Ne'er meet again.

W

Yet no bewailing,
For, blythe or failing,

We'll oft meet sailing

Life's stormy main.

Then why so fearful?

Let's not be tearful;

Pass round a cheerful

Health and farewell!

The world is cold, man,

Evil is bold, man,

Dangers untold, man,

Compass us round.

Nay, never start, man,

Warm now your heart, man,

In every part, man,

Friends will be found.

Then why so fearful?

Let's not be tearful,

Pass round a cheerful

Health and farewell!

Time swiftly wendeth,
Life shortly endeth,

Each of us tendeth

To the dark tomb;

There nought shall sever,

Friends parted never,

Untroubled ever

In their calm home..

Then why so fearful?
Let's not be tearful ;
Pass round a cheerful

Health and farewell.

P. V. M.

ST. HELENA AND MISSOLONGHI.

We hear from Paris that the Hotel des Invalids is again to be opened to the public, that the monument which covers the body of the Emperor Napoleon, is about to be finished, and with its exquisite carvings and graceful figures, will be as beautiful as was expected. It will soon become one of the sights of Paris, and the traveller who goes out in the morning to visit the curiosities and remarkable places which that capital affords, will view among the other monuments, that of Buonaparte. Whilst we cannot help admiring the policy which dictated the removal of the ashes of that greatest of men from St. Helena to the capital of France, to the capital of that country which owed every thing to him, particularly the glory which is so dear to the hearts of Frenchmen, still we cannot help lamenting that it was so; Napoleon had been born amongst men, but had not mingled with them; that proud and lofty spirit which could not associate with his companions at the military school at Paris, which through life had kept apart from them, was solitary in death. The lonely and rocky island, which kept communion with the waves alone, which belonged not to countries, and seemed to retire from the gaze of man, was fit to be his grave. There that mighty soul that had planned the conquest of Europe, confessed to the waves of the Atlantic that alone listened to him, the vanity of human projects; there, finally, he breathed his last. The whole island was filled with his genius; and to that spot, overshadowed by the willows that wept over it, the eyes and regrets of his countrymen were turned, whilst the glory of his actions remained ever fresh in their memory. And there, though the wide sea separated him from the

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