not particularly brilliant, and the gusto, with which he expatiated on the viands before him, might have qualified him for the office of "decoy eater" to a newly established Steam Boat Company, but irretrievably lost him the good opinion of the aspiring youth who enacts the principal part of this interesting tale.

On what occurred after the cloth was removed, and the pleasures, or, as they are termed at public dinners, the business of the evening commenced, we shall not enlarge, as our hero early pleaded fatigue, and retired to his chamber. After some skilful manoeuvrings, he managed to rid himself of Jonathan, and finally effected his retreat to bed.

The morning arrived, and our hero, who had been long meditating on some extensive efforts in literature, rose in high and most poetical spirits. He had dreamt of the battle of Thrasymene,-his Pegasus was therefore bridled and saddled,-his common-place-book, containing a thousand stanzas, odes, sonnets, and elaborate impromptus, was hastily seized, -and in an instant he was building the lofty line. He commenced, after a short abstraction, with

"Souls of the brave!"

At this moment a knock at the door recalled our hero to the insignificant earth of these modern times, and a voice, slow but not solemn, exclaimed, "Your boots, Sir."

Very well, put them down; I shall not want you this morning." He resumed

"Souls of the brave who linger round the flood."

"Your hot water, sir."

Well, well, put it down and be off."

"Souls of the brave! who linger round the flood,

Which once ye crimsoned with your patriot blood,"

"Are your razors all right, sir? But perhaps you have no occasion, as yet, for such things." "I really wish you would be gone; I am not in want of anything;" answered poor Theophilus, in a distressed tone, and then recommenced ;

"Souls of the brave! who linger round the flood,
Which once ye crimsoned with your patriot blood,
Oh! rise again."

"Yes, sir, quite right,-rise again,-exactly what I was going to say; you had better get up, as master is very punctual at breakfast."

"This is insufferable. What do you mean by annoying me thus ?" said our hero, opening the door. "I say, I do not want you or anything else."

"Very fine morning, sir," persevered Jonathan, who had now effected an entrance, "just such a morning as that on which we beat the French at Salamanca; Marshal Jourdan, you see,

sir,"

"Confound Marshal Jourdan !"—

"All in good time, so we did,-confounded him well, too. I remember poor Sandie Fletcher of our regiment said to me,"

"What do you think I care for"

"Aye, aye, very good; but look here ?"-continued Jonathan.

room.

"Will you begone?" peremptorily exclaimed Theophilus, elbowing him out of the "An intolerable mixture of impertinence and boreism,-has not even the points of an effective character about him,-or I might make some use of him in a Farce." Thus have we introduced some of our dramatis personæ. What were the adventures of our hero at the Hall,-what was the Dilemma,-we intend to be cruel enough not to tell our reader until next week.

(To be continued.)

A READING MAN.

A TALE OF MODERN CHIVALRY,-CANTO II.

Oh! hast thou known, my reader dear,

That shiv'ring sense which men call fear?

Hast thou, unlucky wight, at school
Called a boy twice your size a fool?
Hast thou, in early days, in bed
The Mysteries of Udolpho read?
Hast ever, on some Christmas night,
Of goblins talked by candle light?
And by some would-be witty spark
Been left quite solus in the dark,
In some old hall, which shows on high
Groined arches and rude tracery,

A spot round which some dark tale lingers?
Hast snuffed a candle with your fingers?
Hast e'er got up, with many a qualm,
To prove your courage at Chalk Farm?
And worn a pair of Russian ducks,

And rivalled them in whiteness?
When some thin friend your steps will tend,
Have you envied him his slightness?
Hast felt that smart of terror's dart
Your breast which o'er and o'er racks,
When remembering that hopeless thing,
"A bullet in the thorax ?"

If these you have suffered, oh! then, you will know
What was felt by Sir Buck, and endured by Le Gros.
Yet think not, gentle reader dear,
That their's was any coward's fear;
It was, I ween, a solemn dread,
Not of a cracked or broken head,
But a noble terror, lest they might
Lose honour in the listed fight.

Sir Buck, ere he gave his charger the spur,
For an instant sighed as he thought of her,
To whom his gallant heart paid duty,
As the only Queen of Love and Beauty,

The fond, the faithful and the true,
The beautiful-I don't know who.
Far other thoughts Le Gros inspire,
His stout heart burns with martial ire,
And lady-loves he humbug calls;
And, when the trumpet gave command,
He merely spit upon his hand,

And said, what would have some unmanned,
"Sir Buck! look out for squalls."

They meet, they meet with a deadly shock,
Which each in his heart's core feels;

But fearlessly still each sits like a rock,

Though his steed to his haunches reels.
The Knight of the Buck, with fierce intent,
Endeavour'd to end the tournament

By a terrible beginner.

He struck, with a tremendous blow,
Four pounds of beef, which Sir Le Gros
That day had eat for dinner.

Le Gros, with equal rage inflamed,

His spear-point at the head had aim'd;
It dash'd the helmet from the crown,
And then, oh, horror! glancing down,
(Heu pietas, heu fides prisca !)
Deranged, a hyacinthine whisker !!!

Their shivered spears aside are thrown :-
Each warrior gave one single groan,
Then drew his battle brand;

And, formed of extra density,
A basket hilted stick you'll see

In either champion's hand.

They hammered and clamoured,

And battered and clattered,

And certainly seemed to endeavour,

With might and with main,

Again and again,

To do for each other for ever.

But hark! the trumpet's sound
Proclaims to all around

The Ruffian's pleasure,
That some slight leisure

And breathing time should now be given
To those who had thus boldly striven.
The College echoes quickly rung,

With shouts both loud and deep, for Young;
Young instantly arrives:
His dainties rare are soon unpacked,
His varied stores are quite ransacked,
To save the warriors' lives.

Le Gros recovers in a trice,
Demolishes two quarts of ice,
Of lemon water made;
And quickly, next, his inside treats
With tarts, such as Victoria eats,
Triangular, and full of sweets,
With fairy crust o'erlaid :

On the same road, huge cakes he sends,
And fruit and sugar candy,
And then at last his feast he ends
With pints of cherry brandy.

Sir Buck all melancholy stands,
His face enveloped in his hands:
He frowningly refuses aid,
Drinks but one glass of lemonade,

And utters a loud groan :

He mournfully thinks of the hard-earned hair,
Which had valanced so trimly his face so fair;
And he orders, in accents of deep despair,
Some water of Cologne.

Again in fight the warriors meet;
For six long jousts each kept his seat;
Sir Buck with frenzy mad was fired,
Le Gros most copiously perspired,-
Yet neither hurled his foe.

Till chance, which rules the fate of kings,
And domineers o'er meaner things,
Decides for Love, and gaily strings

The chaplet for Le Beau.

The Fat Knight's steed without a groan
That day had borne some eighteen stone,
A weight by no means airy;

But now the gallant ass declines,
And shows, by very obvious signs,
Exhaustion pulmonary.

The seventh charge commenced right well,
They met, and then, oh! hard to tell,

Sir Gros went see-saw,

His ass said hee-haw !

Then steed and rider fell.

A loftier shout was never made

Than when Le Gros undonkeyed laid.

All rush confusedly to show

High honour to the brave Le Beau,

To him, the yet unconquered Knight,

To him, the victor in the fight,

In tones both loud and merry :

They hail him Joy of Letter A,

The College boast, and pride, and stay,
The young, the gallant and the gay
Sir Buck, of Bucklesbury.

The fat Knight then reluctant rose,

And rubbed his back, well bruised with blows;

He thought not of the moment's need,
But fix'd his eyes upon his steed;
And soft emotions seemed to roll
O'er his brave good natured soul;
And though almost inclined to choke
With stifled grief, at length he spoke,—
Poor beast, at least, I'll say that on her
I lost some leather, but no honour."

My tale is told, God prosper long
Our Principal and Dean,
Our Pros, and all the studious throng
That in these walls have been.
May we, in peace, or war's alarms,
Remember, all our lives,

The great and glorious passage of arms
In the Field of the Court of Fives.

A DAY'S DEER STALKING-(Continued).

26 Capital shot, by Jove !" shouted Granville, springing to his feet, but the strong arm of his companion instantly pulled him down. "Hush! Harry, hush! there might be a dozen deer within the same distance of us, and that shout of yours was enough to scare the devil himself." Hardly had he uttered the words, when the quick eye of Duncan caught a glimpse of a stag and two hinds, moving over the shoulder of the hill to the left, alarmed, doubtless, by Granville's exclamation.

"Hang it, what a fool I was !" said he, "this will be a lesson for me in future." "Never mind," said his friend, "it can't be helped now, and there are plenty more among these hills."

Meanwhile, Angus, having been a witness of their success from above, had come down to them with all speed, and was now engaged in paunching the slain animal. "Well, Duncan," said Glenvallich, "I want to show Mr. Granville what sport our Highland Glens afford, and what Bran and Luath can do ; where will our best chance of finding again be?" The dogs alluded to were two magnificent deer hounds of the genuine Irish breed. Strong in the loins, broad in the chest, with the swiftness of the wind, and eye like a kindled coal, what dog can compare with the ancient Irish greyhound!

"Indeed, your honour knows as well as I do," replied the forester, "that if there's another stag in the ground, we're sure to find him in Cairm-a-Corcoch, for they always draw into it with the southerly wind."-"I dare say you're right, Duncan, said his master, "and now, Harry, what say you? Are you ready for another burst, or should you like to halt a little longer?"

"I'm your man," said Granville, "don't think I am to be fagged so easily, although I was a little blown at first."

Having carefully concealed the slain deer, and marked the spot so as to be able to ascertain it again with ease, they once more committed themselves to the forester's guidance. Their path lay through a lovely little hollow, wooded on both sides with the stunted weeping birch, so universal in highland scenery. When they came nigh the head of it, after nearly an hour's smart walking, it opened out into a small amphitheatre, carpeted with velvet-like turf; in the centre bubbled up a spring, clear as crystal, which murmured away in a silvery stream down the glen they had just ascended. "What a beautiful little spot !" exclaimed Granville, "let us have five minutes breathing time, and a draught of this beautiful water." Ere his friend could reply, a foot-print on the soft moss by the brink of the spring caught his practised eye, and, stooping down, he examined it intently. I'll tell you what, Harry," said he, if you knew what was before us now, you'd as soon think of flying, as halting for an instant."-" Why, what is it?" said Granville, "I see only the footmark of some stray bullock, that has come to slake his thirst here." His friend said nothing, but beckoning to Duncan, silently pointed to the object that attracted their attention. The honest forester's eyes instantly sparkled with delight, and he cut a caper that made Granville think he had gone stark mad. "The big stag, as I'm a living man!" he rather yelled than exclaimed. "Oh! Mr. Granville, I would give five pounds for you to get a shot at him; let's be off, let's be off, we haven't a moment to lose."" By Jingo," exclaimed Granville, now nearly as much excited as Duncan

himself, "if that's the track of a stag I'd follow him to Jericho, only for a sight of him; come Glenvallich, we mus'n't halt another instant."-"I thought you'd change your tune, Harry," replied his friend, "and I'm quite as keen as yourself, so let's pull foot."

As they proceeded at a brisk pace, the occasional print of the stag's foot in the soft moss encouraged them to advance, till, at length, on reaching the top of the knoll that terminated the dell in which their path had hitherto lain, Duncan deemed it advisable to examine the ground with the glass. They waited while he carefully scanned it, but this time the search was without success. He rose with a disappointed air, and was about to proceed, when the dog, which he held by a leash, after gazing fixedly for a moment on some distant object, made a spring that nearly pulled him on his face. "I'll bet a hundred guineas the dog sees the deer," said Glenvallich, and truly enough; for, on straining their eyes in the direction the dog looked, they saw the branching antlers of the stag in bold relief against the sky, ere he disapppeared leisurely over the brow of the hill before them. "That deer never saw us, he was feeding on," said Duncan, "and I know to an ace where to find him in the next hollow. Follow me, gentlemen." Not a word was spoken, as they followed their guide in single file round the foot of the hill. Angus, with the dogs, ascended the hill, lest the deer, if wounded, should break in that direction; and the other three silently crept through the broken ground that intervened between them and the spot where they expected to find their game. "I see his antlers moving among those low bushes," whispered Glenvallich, at length; "get your rifle ready, Harry." While they were stealing stealthily along, Duncan's foot caught on a broken stump, and he stumbled and fell. The deer, startled by the noise, bounded into an open glade, and looked uneasily round. Crack went Granville's rifle, and this time with better aim: for the deer, bounding with the speed of light up the little acclivity before them, stood for a moment with the blood dropping fast from a wound in his flank, and then vanished down the other side. "" Slip the Dogs! Angus, slip the dogs!" shouted Duncan; and they rushed down the hill side, like falcons stooping on their prey. (To be continued).

We decline" M.A.'s " essay, only because the subject of it is unsuited to our pages. For the same reason we return the stanzas of "Bloomsbury," and the heroics of 'Sigma."

"F.'s" translation from Anacreon is rather too paraphrastic. We hope he will try his hand again.

The "Narrative" of "A Clootz" is clever, and the satire which it contains is quite unobjectionable; but its unfinished state precludes its insertion. We could wish that the author would change, not the objects, but the mode of his ridicule, which we do not consider happily chosen.

The Extracts from the Life of a Student' are unavoidably postponed.

N.B.-All rejected articles may be had on application at the Porter's Lodge.

PUBLISHED BY ST. AUSTIN & SON, HERTFORD, AND BY J. MADDEN & Co. LEADENHALL STREET, LONDON.

ST. AUSTIN AND SON, PRINTERS, HERTFORD.