cautions which their anxiety prompted; and various the admonitions dictated by their affection. I need not be ashamed to acknowledge, that I heard them with sorrow, for sorrowful indeed was the occasion. With a heavy heart, and, I expect, with desponding look, I slowly left my father's cordial grasp, to receive my mother's parting kiss. I turned to my brothers: grief was depicted on their faces, and, with hesitating lips, they bade adieu to one, whose happiness is to share their sports. I heaved a deep sigh, resolving to "be a man,'

"Nor did I think to shed a tear
In these my miseries."

But I had nearly forgotten the trial which was to succeed. My sister, whom, in the hurry of this parting scene, I had, for the moment, almost overlooked, came to take her leave. Faultering "Farewell," and begging Heaven to bless me, she wept upon my bosom; and the tear which had been tempted by duty, affection, and fellowship for those from whom I had previously parted, could no longer resist. I wept in good earnest: and, even now, my eye is dim with a tear, which cannot be excited more tenderly than by a sister's love.

Mem.-I am very melancholy; yet, all seem happy around me. I would write home, but that the subject is too serious. I would join the rest at leap-frog, but that the game is too sprightly.

Feb. 7.-8 o'clock. A quarter of an hour ago I was dreaming, very delightfully, that Mr. Smith's hounds were to throw off at " Chute Windmill." My determination was to meet them there, and very busy was I in preparation, when the bell awoke me from my slumbers. Mistaking it for the clock striking eight, I arose; and, staring wildly around the room, I discovered, to my no small discomfiture, that I was entirely "thrown out,' and perfectly, though dejectedly, recognized my school dormitory. This, however, was no time to reflect. I knew the consequence of non-attendance to my summons, and having dressed, with as much expedition as possible, I am arrived just soon enough to be in time.

Mem. My melancholy is but little abated: to-day's prospect is gloomy.

9 o'clock.-Attended breakfast; but had no appetite. As soon as it was over, I sauntered twice round the playground. One of my school-fellows asked me whether or not I was unwell? To him I was hardly civil. A second enquired the reason why I did not play football? To him I was churlish. A third begged to know if I thought it a good plan to put on the clock to the holidays?" with him I was downright provoked; but could not, for my life, restrain a smile.

From 10 till 1 o'clock.-Busily engaged in studypartly forgot my troubles.

3 o'clock-Returned from a walk, and am somewhat more happy.

Half-past 3.-Was summoned to attend a meeting of the "Hora Sarisburienses," to-morrow evening.

Mem. Quite delighted, and very busy.

Feb. 8.-The meeting is over. The attendance was full; the congratulations many; the resolutions spirited; and the accounts flattering. But let me not infringe on the prerogative of our worthy secretary. In his hands I leave the further proceedings of the meeting, assured, that from him they will receive the benefit of interest and ability.

Feb. 9.-I endeavoured, in vain, to think of a subject for No. 2.

10th.-Fixed on one. Reflected on it.-thought it difficult-considered myself not equal to it-hopedfeared-felt a head-ache, and gave it up.

11th. Thus arrives, dear Vallancey, the day on which I am writing to you; and, as the time which is fixed for the appearance of our second number, is so near, you must excuse me now, that I may commence some new, and I sincerely hope better written, contribution to our favourite work. Our favorite work indeed; and may it not only obtain our favour, but may the second number so infinitely increase in merit, as to win for itself the sanction, the notice, and the good wishes of all whose admiration, it must be confessed, is the stimulus of our various but humble exertions; whose smiles will be,

at one and the same time, our cheering encouragement, and our wished-for and ample reward.

Trusting you will, with your accustomed kindness, be an advocate for us,

I am, dear VALLANCEY,

Your attached friend,

G. SELWYN.

Feb. 15, 1828.

DEAR SELWYN,

My morning's ride to-day has terminated an hour earlier than usual, that I may have an opportunity of answering your welcome letter of the 11th inst. In that letter, as well as on a former occasion, you expressed a wish to know my opinion of your first No. of the "Hora Sarisburienses." I would tell you, in a few words, and say at once, it pleased, or displeased; was liked, or disliked; but that I have occasionally felt so much amusement, at hearing the remarks of others on some of the articles, that I cannot refrain from giving them to you. To these I shall sometimes, perhaps, modestly add my own humble judgment. Remember, if I report the opinion of others, it will be with fidelity; if I give my own, it will be with candour.

First, then, comes a dull "Private Correspondence," which nobody cares for, and none read twice. Nil Novum" has considerable merit. Mr. Brunel, though, denies it in toto. He says he will allow that "there are many Alexanders of the present day," but asserts, that when his celebrated tunnel is finished, it will be a perfect novelty. Mr. Gurney, too, affirms that writers need no longer be idle; and declares that steam is the very thing for a new subject; he assures G.W.' that his new steam coach deserves the attention of all the ability which living genius can compass. But, to crown all, I must tell you, that I formed one of the large dinner party at Lady N-'s, on Tuesday last. Your letter, which reached me that morning, reminded me of your book, and I asked the ladies near me, their opinion of

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the "Hora." One praised the feeling, another the perseverance, and a third the loyalty of the young authors. They were greatly grieved for, and almost offended at, the fate of Cupid, as noticed in the " Scrap Book." I made an attempt to defend you, but found this raised them to arms, and I gave in. For all, excepting this, they warmly praised you. Opposite me sat J. Y. whom you well know. So silent had he been during the whole of dinner time, that I thought his entire attention had been devoted to his plate; but at the sound of " Nil Novum," he drew himself up, looked sage, and, drinking a glass of wine, as though to give him courage, he squeamishly said, as he gently drew up his neckcloth, evidently to shew the bow to the best advantage, and which, I doubt not, was one of his own invention"You will, I think, affirm I am right, when I submit to you, that I differ from the author of Nil Novum,' for is not this a novel tie." I asked the beautiful Miss Stuart to take wine with me; and, ere I had turned round, J. Y. had sunk into his former taciturnity, and his execrable pun was forgotten. "Nascitur Poeta" reflects credit on 'G.S.' who, they say, would have done well to have added two or three pages to this judicious communication, at the expense of Reginald, the Knight of Glenalvon. All, whose opinion I have heard, especially the ladies, laud, with great commendation, some sweet stanzas "On the Death of General Wolfe;" they are very good, and "retain their interest, even when memory recalls those on the burial of Sir John Moore, to which they bear a fair resemblance." The "Ode to Walkingame" is laughable and well managed. I should suppose the " Epitaph" was collected from the tombstones of half a dozen country churchyards; but as 'Z.' has not allowed us to know for whom it is intended, I opine it will be rather difficult to imitate his virtues. Of this he may rest assured, we shall not betray his foibles, because we do not know them. Sterile as is the soil of Lapland, "where roses bloom so seldom, and so far between, G. S.' has found something to admire; though his subject is cold, he has warmed it with poetic fire.

The four stanzas by 'Devoniensis' well deserve praise: I have heard them spoken highly of. "G. S. mourns over Greece in pathetic lines, for I imagine he feels the sentiments he so well expressed;" but I must say to him what Lord Byron, on a different occasion, said to one of our sweetest poets: "The fault is, he has not written enough." The "Burlesque Ode" is humorous. I would attack "Satire" with her own weapons, but my conscience prompts me to own, "Aliorum vitia cerno; obliviscor meorum." Tell Rusticus' to write again : he is natural, and a favourite. I turn to 'Spero,' an article of decidedly great merit. Pray tell me, who is 'Harold?' Do I know any thing of him! He is rather a free-thinker, but I should judge him to be a true lover of England, and her glorious constitution. Many, in my hearing, have spoken well of the "Allegory." There are two translations by Latham,' of no ordinary merit : bid that correspondent appear more frequently. The next subject, by G. S.' has led to many discussions among the old politicians; and invariably sets the readers down to argument. The conclusion I very much admire it is spirited, firm, and loyal. I do not, though, (as an individual, whose taste you certainly are not expected to consult,) think you should insert political subjects; your book being, as it is, a juvenile production. To say I have not heard the verses by 'C.' admired, would not be correct; but I am inclined to give him credit rather for feeling than poesy; at least judging from the single contribution which bears his signature. The last stanza is highly complimentary, and raises my curiosity, for I should be really glad to see the fair one. Some say, "To-morrow will never come." Yet I affirm, (as by turning to the next piece in the "Hora" you will also see) that it is come. But this is G. W.'s' "To-morrow," and a famous one it is too. This, as a prose subject, ranks first in the book; and here I can but add that G. W.' is a valuable contributor, whose ability will highly enhance the merit of the "Hora Sarisburienses." May he long continue amongst you. "Enough." Ah! and are you here? Then I have