is certainly rather above the comprehension of boys of his age, or mine either. My studies, too, are a little changed; but with the exception of Homer, Horace, and Virgil, they lie principally in two volumes, containing extracts from various writers lumped together, as the title-page sets forth," In usum Regia Schola Etonensis.” Then I have nothing further to do with the tracing of Maps on paper over a glass, or the other means here used for the learning of Geography; besides, I both say and construe my lessons to a different Master. It is quite incredible how very little an Etonian knows of Arithmetic. I verily believe that many here, not considered deficient in abilities, would be very much puzzled with a simple multiplication sum, and the very cleverest would stand a bad chance if they were tried in the Rule of Three. There are people who teach ciphering, but I do not see that many learn, or, if they do, I am afraid that they recollect but little. I am exceedingly glad that Mr. Plodwell taught me as far as he has done; for I stand but a poor chance of acquiring any knowledge of that sort. There are speeches now every week. I suppose they are exercised often against the grand display, which takes place before the next Holidays, when the School is crowded with ladies and gentlemen. The Orators are all from the Sixth Form: they walk out into the middle of the School, in full dress, and spout, and saw the air, with various success. The Speeches are generally Latin, sometimes Greek, and on the great occasion, a chosen few are favoured with English, for the edification, it is to be supposed of the female part of the audience, who (10 disparagement to their learning), ought to be in some degree recompensed for listening so long, and so attentively, to what they cannot understand. It is quite ridiculous to observe what great politicians some of my Schoolfellows are. There are a good many pastry cooks' shops where they take in Newspapers, which are much more eagerly devoured than any, of the cakes, or other good things, especially when Parliament is sitting. It is incredible with what vigour and animosity one will attack the Ministers, and another defend them. In fact, if you believe their arguments, they seem to know a great deal more than any of the leading Members in the House of Com mons. I hear that some time ago a few of the most violent actually drew up an Address to the Queen, which they would have sent, if they could have got sufficient signatures. I have already picked up a great number of very agreeable Cons, as we term our acquaintance here, and, if you put your projected scheme of paying us a visit into execution, I shall be happy to introduce them to you. In the mean time, with best love to Mamma and Harriet, believe me, Your affectionate Son, S. RASHLEIGH, Gog:* А РОЕМ, BY FREDERICK GOLIGHTLY, ESQ. CANTO II. "A most delicate Monster!"-SHAKSPEARE. THE morn is laughing in the sky, Brightly the dancing beam hath shone On the cottage of clay, and the abbey of stone, The songs of the birds have a gayer note, And the fall of the waters hath breathed around And why is Nature so richly drest In the flowery garb she loveth best? Peasant and Monk will tell you the tale! With his green vest around him flung, In this his second Canto, Mr. Golightly has taken most unwarrantable liberties with his metres. He has the authority, he says, of all modern Poets; but I enter my protest against all such innovations. P.C. A moment, and he saw her come, He that had searched fair England round, Than that minstrel boy, the young Le Fraile, Hark! hark! a sound! it flies along, The man must have a thousand tongues, Two meadows and a little bog Maiden and matron, boy and man, You can't conceive how fast they ran! And as they scampered, you might hear A thousand sounds of pain and fear. "I get so tired! "Where's my son?""How fast the horrid Beast comes on!". "What plaguy teeth!"" You heard him roar?” "I never puffed so much before! "I can't imagine what to do!" "Whom has he caught?"" I've lost my shoe!" "Oh! I'm a sinful."" Father Joe, Do just absolve me as we go! "Absolve you here? pray hold your pother; A pretty time to stop and shrive, It chanc'd that day two travelling folk And belly, whose capacious paunch There were some sly officious dimples, Caparison'd for instant fight; You might have deem'd him fram'd of stone, The Warrior's voice was full and bold; The meal of course was short and hasty, And they had half got through the pasty, When hark!-a shriek rung loud and shrill; The Churchman jump'd, and dropp'd the gill; The Soldier started from the board, And twin'd his hand around his sword; While they stood wondering at the din, The Minstrel-Boy came running in. With trembling frame, and rueful face, He bent his knee, and told his case:"The Monster's might away hath riven My bliss on Earth, my hope in Heaven; And there is nothing left me now But doubt above, and grief below! My heart and her's together fly, And she must live, or I must die! |