And now they despair for their drowned Chief; Out of the surge comes their chief, and a Maid Again he stands on the crowded deck, And all fell down in a ring around For she, they thought, was an Ocean nymph, But none of the Nymphs, on their sea-shells borne, That boast of the Ocean race, Might vie by their hair and their dark green eyes And her smile around was a ray of Heaven, And the glance of her eye has fix'd them there, "Rise, dear ones, rise," the Chieftain cried, And on with the galley to our home, "You bade me seek a lovely Maid,- And a chorus wild arose around, H. N. C. NUGE AMATORIÆ. “Aliter non fit, Avite, liber."-MARTIAL. ""Tis thus, old Boy, a book is made."-ELPHINSTONE. CERTAIN Members of the Club, who are desperately in love, take this the last opportunity of addressing their sweethearts, under cover of "The Etonian," and of leaving a memorial of their passion inscribed on the pages of a work that bids fair to be illustrious when Homer and Virgil are forgotten. The ladies, to whom the following letters are directed, are particularly requested to take every thing that is said in them in the sense most flattering to themselves; and, if there be more than one sister, when no Christian name is prefixed, each sister is conjured not to doubt but that she is the one meant: above all, they are cautioned hereby not to tell their fathers and mothers the important secret; but, on the other hand, to do all in their power to prevent it spreading further: to which end they are recommended to buy up all the copies that can be met with for sale, at Mr. Warren's, Old Bond-street; Mr. Knight's, Castle-street; Messrs. Deighton's, Trinity-street; and Messrs. Munday and Slatter's, High-street. R. HODGSON, Secretary. I. TO MISS T-S. MISS T-s, I was told the other day by St. B-b, but I have now quite forgotten, where it is that you live at present; however, I don't question your acuteness in discovering who is meant by the consonants at the top of this letter, without my designating you more particularly. I was never introduced to you; and, indeed, the only time I ever remember to have seen you was You when I figured in an English speech at Election, 18—. recollect, to be sure, that, although you sat on my left hand, I contrived, with no little skill, to shoot a sentence about "her awe-commanding grace" point blank at you; whereon the whole company, with the Provosts twain, turned half-round and stared upon you. This you must be aware was very generous in me, because it would have been more graceful to have fired to the right; and there was no lack of excellent marks on that side for my aim. I hope you have not forgotten this proof of my regard; at the time you were romantically grateful. You sent to me through C-H-, (and nothing could have been more piquant and delightful, for the world then gave him to you for your husband;) and though no doubt the message lost a little of its original sweetness in its passage, yet you know there was enough left to make me almost crazy with wonder and joy at it. You sent me your love. Nay! but you really did, Miss T-s; and I was no chicken then, for I had succeeded in whiskers ever since Christmas. Now I am a man; a young one, but still a man ; and can feel as deeply, as acutely, though more calmly, than before. My object in this letter is twofold. Firstly, as you sent me your love, I hereby send you mine; and add, withal, that I think you are a very smart dashing girl, with good eyes and an excellent conceit at a bonnet. I am told you dance well too; but this is only hearsay. You are rather too much of a coquet, though I don't dispute but that it becomes you very well just now; but remember thirty will come-—. Secondly, are you engaged? This is a point which I have much at heart. The case is this :I am naturally amorous; and, as you must have seen in "The Etonian," a great Poet. Now I always make a practice of worshipping but one nymph at a time; and I hate breaking the Seventh Commandment even in thought. I have just taken leave of a young maiden, to whom I wrote some Sonnets, because I got tired of her; the place is vacant-speak the word—and you shall be enshrined in the temple of my affections, and shall have a necklace of Sonnets and bracelets of Canzonets in a week's time. If you refuse, I shall run the risk of becoming foolish about some country beauty at the next Exeter Assizes; and I am anxious to preserve the integrity of the empire, which I am proud to feel that accomplished Woman maintains within my heart. My dear Miss T8, thine ever; (that is to say, as long as you like it,) 3 To Miss TS. II. G. M. TO MISS A. H. DEAR A.,-My acquaintance with you is so slight, that I know but little either of your temper or usual pursuits; but there is a depth about your fine black eye that speaks volumes of feeling and tenderness, if properly drawn forth by an object worthy of you. You remarked, I think, that I was somewhat dejected on the Thursday on which I left you: the truth is, that is—you are not really in love with that dull ! are you certainly see you at Hampstead. To Miss A. H. u? I will C. B. III. TO MISS R. S. MY DEAR LITTLE R.,-You sing remarkably well; but don't attempt that elaborate thing of Rossini's again;-you lose in grace what you may think you gain in praise for skilful execution. I wish you would take to simpler music;-Italian, if you like. For instance, Paesiello, or Cimarosa; any thing is better than that Neapolitan jackall. I shall meet you at Mrs. M's soirée on Tuesday. Good-bye. To Miss R. S. F. G. P. S. Don't forget the pencil-case; I have been so plagued about it. IV. TO E. P. MY DEAREST, SWEETEST GIRL,-Will you forgive me for using even your initials in print? I feel I am doing wrong, and yet I know not how to refuse myself the pleasure of thus writing to her whom I love so passionately. You only can possibly know who I am, and you only will feel the truth and earnestness of the heart of him who addresses you. Oh! Emily, have you ever thought upon me since last we parted at ? Do you ever, in your solitary ramble down that pretty shady walk to your own little garden and arbour-do you ever recollect our walks, our rambles? Is my tree growing still, or hath it faded away, almost like the youthful hopes which were then the portion of him who planted it? When I saw you in tears upon that melancholy account about your poor and I ventured to sit down by you and take your hand into mine-how I trembled! for you did not withdraw it, but seemed (was it only seeming?) to cling to me, as to one whom, under all circumstances, you would not fear to call your friend; and upon whose fidelity and affection you could implicitly rely. I forget whether I have ever told you formally that I love you ;-I believe not ;I am sure to you, with your susceptibility, with your native intuition of truth, it was unnecessary. You must have seen my ardent solicitude for your health; you must have seen my anguish at your sorrow; you must remember my tears at your , coldness my transports at your kindness. Do you think my conduct was common and ordinary? It was only to be explained by one cause, and that cause was a deep, a soulfelt love. Emily, you may perhaps never read this;-it will matter not: I have poured forth my soul to an image which rests within me, and the words of my offering have their meaning to me, and such like me, though they be couched in the dark speech which the melancholy spirit loves. Farewell, my dear girl. To E. P. Ever affectionately, &c. G. M. V. TO MISS M. B. tell you. I have and, you little Wear the pink DEAR MARY,-Will you dance with me the first set on the Tuesday's ball, at the Assizes? I have much to almost entirely recovered the use of my knee; hard-hearted thing, not once to ask after me. skirt I gave you. To Miss M. B. Yours, I SAW thee for a moment! and again Haply I ne'er shall see thee; yet, sweet Maid, In my heart's sanctuary! There remain, Fountain of Hope and Joy, in the drear shade And gaze for ever on those angel eyes, G. M. |