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cellany”, not being continued beyond the present fortnight, the Chairman is empowered to provide such a stock of poppies as shall to him appear sufficient. 14. That an annual dinner be provided, on the 15th

of November, to celebrate the Institution of the Club; and that the dishes be Stewed Tench, Calf's Head, and Goose; succeeded by Whipped Cream, and a Trifle; and that the liquors be Black Strap, and Ramsbottom's

Table Beer 16. That no member shall drink Champagne, Claret,

Ginger Beer, Spruce Beer, or Bottled Porter, and that it be laudable to be dead drunk, but

penal to bę merry RESOLUTION. That a deputation do wait upon Mr. Bartholomew Bouverie, to invite him to become a member of the Club, in consideration of his having shown qualifications of the highest order."

The Chairman then ended the proceedings with the following speech :

Gentlemen ; - I hate what's called cleverness, and I know you do the same; whenever I see a clever boy, I kick him, and I hope you do the same. I would have all clever boys kicked, because they don't get flogged, or if they do, they feel it. Now I would have none of your tender-skinned varlets : give me a buffalo-headed, and a buffalo-hided chap, with a skin and a skull that can bear the brunt of

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buffets and birch ; he's the man for the Club. Now, you see, gentlemen, that it is not every man that's fit for the Club, so you ought to be proud that you are : it is not every one that can come to the block in the cool, gentleman-like manner that you can: so call for another gallon of beer.

P. S. by Bartholomew Bouverie. In inserting the above communication, I am well aware that there will not be wanting those who will crack their small wit upon me, by bidding me go to the Club; and on that account, as Addison says, I beg leave to put in a caveat against that joke. With regard to the invitation of the Club, I shall beg leave to decline it for the present, while I aspire to a higher honour, that of receiving Mr. Ignoramus's toe.

LLAN EGWEST ABBEY.

Pensive Nymph, who lov'st to dwell
By waving wood, and winding dell,
Where grass and wild flowers mingling spread
Around the lonely fountain-head,
Marking oft the purple streak
Of evening tinge the distant peak.
Chiefly, Nymph, thou lov'st to stray
By Llan Egwest's old Abbaye,
Watching, with a tearful eye,
Where its fallen honours lie,

And heath-bells blow, and briars wave,
O’er many a monk's forgotten grave.
Then, on Memory's dewy wing,
To her shadowy realms you spring,
And times its holy towers arose
Amid the trees, in calm repose ;
Echoed then the sylvan Dee
“ O miserere Domine !”
And oft you gently paused, to hear
The solemn organ pealing near,
Stealing on the ear of night
Like the heavenly song of the sons of light,
Till rock, and stream, and wood, and plain,
Seem'd living in the holy strain.
But time, and war's destructive brand,
Have rent its towers with reckless hand;
And steel-clad fanatics have trod
And trampled on the house of God.
And now, like blighted hope, it rears
Its mouldering pile of other years,
So sadly fair, we scarce can deem
We will not own it as a dream
A fleeting shade in Time's dark river,
That passeth soon to fade for ever.

GLENARTNEY.

4

Credidimus generi, NOMINIBUSQUE tuis.

Historians are, generally speaking, so intent on tracing home to a fine-spun philosophy of their own creating, all the wonders, and changes, and revolutions of the world, that they totally omit to mention those smaller circumstances which a plain man would consider as the main-springs, or very nearly so, of human action. There are many such omissions ; but that which I shall venture to enlarge a little upon, is certainly of the most paramount importance-I mean, the constant neglect with which these overweening gentlemen treat the names of the heroes they describe. " What's in a name ?” said a wise man-I forget, at the present moment, his own; but that is not essential. “What's in a name ?" I may be asked by a hundred voices in a breath-by the would-be philosopher, who would cut the throat of the officious friend who should advise him to render practical his high-minded system, by publishing it to the world without his name : by the fevered politician, who would sacrifice health, fortune, life itself, and all but that reputation without which life were a bubble, to tack on Right Hon. to his name : by the learned fair one, the bright azure of whose eyes is far outdone by those stockings, so darkly, deeply, beautifully, blue ;and, lastly, by the sentimental novelist; who, however she may bravado it to me, would perish sooner than change Şir Marmaduke Glenmore into Giles Gibbs, or her fondly cherished Selina de Cleveland into plain Susan Jones !

Whoever, then, you may be -- novelists, philosophers, place-hunters, or blues-whoever, in the teeth of all that is sound in criticism, and true in nature, persist in affirming there is nothing in a name, 1, Bartholomew Bouverie, who, thank heaven, was never yet ashamed of any one of the seven liquid syllables that set me together, throw you

the gage

of defiance! Think you the Grecian democracies, turbulent and anarchical as they were, would have been any thing better than a rope of sand, had it not been for that soft, musical, and inimitably flexible language, which threw a spell over the most insignificant places, and illuminated the poorest characters? Again, when Alexander and Darius went forth to battle it at Issus and Arbela, think you

the dominion of Asia was the only thing at stake ? Nonsense ! I, Bartholomew Bouverie, tell you, it was the mighty strife between the Trisyllables and the Quadrisyllables, that wound up to so fearful a pitch the attention of the world! To come to more modern times : reflect on the glorious career of the Protestant hero, Frederick the Great: and I should like to see the man, woman, or child, that would have the face to tell me, that, had the name of that great man been Timothy, he would have exerted the same energies, and attained the same glory! Why, Timothy's tactics would have carried rout and confùsion in the very title! What is the reason Jack Straw, or Hob Carter, so egregiously failed in their attempt to overthrow constituted authorities, and equalize the peasant and the noble ?-why, on the other hand, have Mirabeau, and La Fayette, revolutionized their country, and upset Europe, with all the facility imaginable? I confess I know of but one really good reason, the superiority of these

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