provided at the principal inns at Salthill, attended by the assistants of the school, and the dames to preserve due order.

The joyous day, the O festus dies puerorum! is generally concluded with a promenade on the terrace at Windsor, at which our revered king, old George, used always to make it a point to attend. I believe in his successor's reign, from a love of retirement, that part of the ceremony was dispensed with, the terrace being closed; but I believe that our present gracious Queen has restored to the public the same gratifying privileges which her good old grandfather treated his subjects with.

Still, although the public may admire the scene altogether as a show, and as the cause of producing much gratification to the Etonians; and although the advocates for its continuance will say it is only one day out of one thousand and ninety-five days, I must say that I think its principle is bad. It is nothing less (and I go not on my own opinion alone), than a genteel begging, which has the sanction of time immemorial, and for which, only under a different aspect, that of poverty, many a poor fellow has been sent to the treadmill; and it is a pity that the present head-master should not have put a final stop to the custom altogether, for it is the cause of a needless expense to many of the parents of the boys, who can ill afford it, not willing to be outdone by others in gratifying their sons in the pageant of that one day.

I before stated that it is a pleasing sight to see upwards of six hundred boys in their blue-jackets and white trousers, and white wands (independent of the salt-bearers, &c.), and although the collection may, on an average, yield a thousand pounds (this last year I understand much more), yet when the expenses are deducted from it, a very small share finds its way to its original intention, that of producing a sufficient sum to pay for a young man's expenses at Cambridge during his undergraduateship. At its first institution, it was annual, but it was found to be so burdensome a tax on the parental treasures, that it was changed to once in three years. Thus much for the Montem, which I again add would be better abolished. Perhaps the moral in the fable of the "Ox and the Calf," may be applicable to me,

FROM our vicinage to Windsor, we were frequently in the habit

of experiencing the royal kindness and condescension. During the time that I was at school, I was present, as one of the upper boys (a certain number only, generally fifty, going at one time), at four of his majesty's fêtes-where it was impossible to be otherwise than highly delighted at the condescension of Farmer George (as he was always denominated, not only by ourselves, but by half the kingdom, from his predilection for agricultural pursuits) to one and all. To every one a something was to be said, which was a source of gratification to his auditors. He was a father to all his subjects; but in a more striking point of view, did that paternal kindness exhibit itself in Saint George's Hall, or at Frogmore, when entertaining us, whom he was always in the habit of calling his boys.

If, as we are told, cares, anxieties, and troubles are the precious stones which encircle the kingly crown, they certainly never appeared in his entertainments to us. His words were those of joy and gladness, shedding their sweetness on those whom he delighted to honour.

German plays were very great favourites with him, which were usually performed at the Queen's palace at Windsor. A certain portion of these plays were enacted by clock-work. It was of course impossible to understand the manoeuvring; but I can well recollect this, that we were often in total darkness. This sometimes created rather an odd sort of feeling among some of the tenderhearted ones, at what was to make its appearance, whether a ghost in real earnest, or only the notes of the invisible girl were to be distinguished.

In my younger days I have been at several fêtes, as well royal as otherwise. The Horticultural Fêtes, as well as Holly Lodge, have displayed their profusion and grandeur: in latter days I have witnessed the real pleasure on the faces of my own children and others at Dome House* juvenile fête, where its then amiable and hospitable mistress reigned the dispenser of happiness, mirth, and hilarity.

But of all the fêtes to which I ever had the honour of being invited, and from which I experienced the greatest delight, was that given by our excellent old Queen Charlotte. It was a fête in which the whole nation participated-I mean that of the Jubilee, when our beloved sovereign had reigned over our land fifty years. Through storm and through sunshine he had been our revered ruler, though at times when the hand of God lay heavy upon him, and overwhelmed him with mental infirmity, and the vision of God's blessed light was taken from him, when the reins of government were placed in the hands of George IV., as Regent of the land-still was he England's King.

It was a beautiful day in October which witnessed the holiday

Bognor.

of the Jubilee. Soon after daylight the firing of the cannon and huzzaing of the people were to be heard in all directions. Windsor was crowded, not only by the high and mighty of the court, coming to pay their respects to royalty, but by the peasantry also, who came in crowds from the neighbouring villages, to partake of the festivities of Bachelor's Acre. This is a particular spot of ground, lying between Sheet-street and Peascod-street, almost in the centre of Windsor, and belonging (by right of time immemorial, and service done to the state by the Cælibes of former days), to the Bachelors of Windsor of the present time. This was the place assigned for the sports to take place. Bullocks roasted whole, and sheep by strings, like sausages surrounding a turkey, were among some of the substantials prepared for the multitude in the Acre. I have no occasion to remark, that in this country, no feast ever goes off without a tolerable good potation-in this instance, be assured, the old laudable custom was not omitted, but that Ramsbottom's Hogsheads were very soon emptied of their contents in honour of the day.

As Etonians, we of course were not left out of the bill of fare, but participated in some of the fun going forward on that day. A whole holiday and additional commons fell to our share; but the best part of all were the evening entertainments, to which I before alluded, given by the Queen, and to which fifty of the upper-boys of the school were invited by royal mandate.

It was my good fortune to be the captain of the school at that time, and as such it was my province to marshal my schoolfellows to the Queen's Lodge at Frogmore. To this particular day I often recur with pleasure-nay, I think I may add with pride, as an era in my life, which I think I may with truth assert, that no other Etonian ever before had such a distinguished honour, and most probably never will again. A king to reign fifty years, is no common occurrence; though we are told that Cissa, the son of Ælla (from whom Chichester takes its name), reigned seventy-six years, and died in the year of our lord 577, at the advanced age of 117).

It will perhaps be needless to remark on the difficulty which our little band experienced in its progress, marshalled by the author of these "Recollections," through the crowded streets of Windsor. The mass of the populace which absolutely covered the road the whole of the distance from Windsor to Frogmore, was so dense, that finding it almost an impossibility to reach the grounds in any reasonable time to witness the festivities of the evening, I determined to solicit the aid of some of the Oxford Blues, who were then on duty at Windsor, to act as our pioneers. This they immediately granted, and with their powerful heavy horses, soon cleared for us a passage to the desired goal.

To remark on the beauty of this evening scene, enlivened by the

countless lamps that, suspended from the branches of the trees, reflected themselves on the calm unruffled waters of the lake-to tell of the various luxuries which the beautifully-ornamented tents contained, and which were perhaps only in the power of royalty to command, and was on this singular occasion, exerted to its utmost; to depict the exhilarating influence produced by the bands of music, martial, Pandean, and Tyrolese, stationed with great judgment, to aid and assist in this almost magic scene, to give an idea of the genuine delight, which as well warmed the hearts as enlivened the countenances of Frogmore's guests, would be too great a task for me to perform.

Within a few weeks after this scene of joy, my resignation came from Cambridge, owing to the marriage of one of the Fellows of King's College, thereby causing a vacancy in that body. A circumstance which does not often occur, took place when my resignation arrived; there was no Provost of Eton at the time, the late Provost having died two days previous. I was therefore ripped, according to the Eton phrase, by the Vice-Provost. I then bid adieu to the well-beloved as now well-remembered scenes and acquaintance of my boyhood-little imagining when mounted on the coach for London, in all the unrestrained freedom of anticipated pleasure, casting a last look on the "distant spires and antique towers," that a day of adversity would ever arrive. I finally took my journey for Alma Mater, and was entered a scholar of King's.

Thus end my "Recollections of bygone days at Eton." I have set down nought in malice, and if they shall avail to while away a passing hour, and produce some few recollections of Eton, one out of two objects of the "Etonian" will have been gained.

My little bark of life is daily speeding,

Adown the stream, 'mid rocks, and sands, and eddies,
And gathering storms and darkening clouds unheeding
Its quiet course through winds and waves it steadies.
My love is with me, and my babes, whose kisses
Sweet sorrows trace from off my brow, as fast
As gathering there; and hung upon the mast,

Are harp and myrtle flowers that shower their blessing
On the sweet air. Is darkness on my path?
There beams bright radiance from a star that hath
Its temple in Heaven. As firm as youth

I urge my onward way.

DR. BOWRING'S Poet. (Trans.)

RECREATIONS IN NATURAL HISTORY.

No. XIV.

OWLS.

The lark is but a bumpkin fowl,
He sleeps in his nest till morn;
But my blessing upon the jolly owl
That all night blows his horn.

KENILWORTH.

So doubtless thought and felt the Fly-by-night Club, who bore on their seal-rings the owl for a device, with an appropriate legend,—and thereby hangs a tale.

It was widely whispered that the posy first adopted by these minions of the moon was Nocte fugimus, but one of the jolly companions, who had attended to his verbs with a little more profit than his co-mates, hinted that those winged words might convey a very unclublike notion of their prowess when confronted with the Charlies who then made night hideous, and suggested Nocte volamus, as more germane to the matter; which motto was engraved accordingly.

By the way, how the first verse of Master Goldthred's morsel of melody reminds one of the old well-known glee

Of all the brave birds that ever I see,

The owl is the wisest in his degree;
For all the day long he sits in a tree,

But when the night comes away flies he;

or, as it has been classically rendered—though we do not find it in the Arundines Cami

Ex omnibus avibus quos video
Sapientissimus est bubo ;
Nam sedet in arbore totâ die,

At cum nox venit, volat illē.

Which ought to have been chanted-perhaps it was-as the evening hymn of the volatile association aforesaid, as "Glorious Apollo," commences the harmonies of the Glee Club :-but this is a digression, and we proceed, according to our pledge, to a consideration of the bright side of the character of the "bonny, bonny owl."

And first, turn we to the pages of Aldrovandi. There we find in the second chapter of his eighth book, under the heading De Bubone, and in the middle of the page, the word

DIGNITAS

in grand Roman capitals. And what word more appropriate? What presence among the feathered bipeds is more dignified than that of the great horned owl, Le Grand Duc, as he is most appropriately named in the kingdom of Clovis? Who can look at his feathered highness, as he sits solemn and sedate, without inquiring