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drowned Mr. Burton's estimate. Exeunt omnes. Mr. Courtenay drops the newspaper in his hurry.] Signed.

R. HODGSON, Knave of Clubs.”

P. S.This, reader, is a correct account of the debate in Elysium. I am much gratified with the kindness of my predecessors, but am afraid they must wait some time for No. I. A friend of mine is going to Italy in the Summer ; I will intrust it to him, to drop into the twopenny-post hole at Avernus, as I really know of no other communication. In the mean time, with tolerable assiduity, I think our prospect of success is good : as even if our poetry, and our prose also, should belong to the class, which neither “men, gods, or columns” disposed to allow, I shall still depend on the Ladies and the Ghosts.

B. B.



I have this morning received the following letters, which I present without comment to the reader.

Trumpington, Munday. Dere Measter Bartlemy ; This comes for to say, how glad I be, that you've setten oop that ere Eaton Mizilany, seeing as how I knows where to aplie for hinformashion, aboot Eaton, where I means to send my son Jem, for the benefit of hedication. Now, for the matter of that, I be’ant ower partickler aboot Latting and Greke, and sich like Alim-flam,

but wants Jem to larn casting, and rithmetick, and to rite rinning hand; and as for the pay, I'd just like to know if so be as I might send part of it in kinde, instead of cashe, seeing as how cashe is harde to come at, and summat scairce, in our countrie. Wuld ye just ax the measter for me this here queshtion : “Wull ye tak my beeves at a fare valuwation, to pay for

my Jem's scholaring.” If so be as he wull, tell him as how I'll send him a cheese next making for his koindness. And Measter. Buverie, if I sends Jem to Eton, might I ax ye to be koind to him, seing as he is but a dellicate chap, and but seventeen come next October.

Your humble sarvant,

GILES PLOUGHTAIL. Does the boys weare ony partickler dress at your hecademy, or does ony of em wear cordroys and leggins, bekase my Jem does.


I am not fond of parting with my money, but I have a wife (I am sure you will pity me) who is distantly related to a family, a member of which, they say, was once brought up at Eton. Somehow the old jade has heard of you; she' declares her cousin did just the same thing some fifty years ago as you are doing now, or intended to do it, and will have me buy your Numbers. Now, though I know it will be waste of money, yet, for peace, I have consented to do it, in case, on my making the inquiry, you declare to me that The Eton Miscellany has been written by those who are now Etonians alone. I doubt it myself: first, because some of ye be amazing

dull; second, for the sake of my shilling. But


wife says I must take your word : so I remain

Yours till answered,

PETER SKINFLINT. London, June 8, 1827.

I have the pleasure of being able to assure Mr. Skinflint, however unwelcome the news may be to him, that the first and second Numbers of the Eton Miscellany were composed solely by Etonians, and that no change will take place in our arrangements on that head, without our intimating it to our friends and the public. B. B.


Fast from Hispania's shores the gale
Was urging on the exile's sail,
And Cadiz distant rock and bay
Were lessening in the watery way,
When o'er the wide Atlantic main
Arose the melancholy strain :
“ Farewell, my home, farewell to thee,
“ Thou land of vanquish'a liberty.
“ While yet thy well-known shores I view,
“ Receive an exile's last adieu ;
“ Receive the tears, that innate pride
“ In vain would bid me strive to hide ;
“ In vain would anger's fiercest flame,
“ That kindles at my country's name,
“ Bid me not weep; it cannot be.
“ Must I unmov'd thy bondage see?
“Must I see thine unhappy land
“Crush'd by the Gaul's invading band ?
“Must patriots' blood thy scaffolds stain ?
“Must priestcraft re-assume her reign?

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It matters not my race is run,

“My task of toil and pain is done ;
“Far from my native land' I roam,
“ To seek in Western shores a home;
There liberty's new rising star
“ Gleams on the crest of Bolivar,
“ And sheds that pure unsullied

“ That harbinger of coming day,
“When despot's nod, and Europe's chain
“ Shall seek to bind the world in vain :
“There must I go: perhaps my life
“May perish in that glorious strife;
“ Perish it may! that death has charms
“ For him whom patriot ardour warms,
“ Let me but fall at freedom's shrine,
“ Nor let Riego's fate be mine ;
“Let not my quivering limbs afford
“A sight to that degenerate horde,
“ Who, deaf to all their country's cries,
A perjur'd despot's favour prize.
“ Grant me but this-it boots not where
I go to breathe a freer air ;
" Whether 'neath Lima’s burning skies,
“Or where the snow-capp'd Andes rise,
“ Or whether by Panuco's wave,
“ The exile finds a lonely grave.”


«"Ιδμεν ψευδέα πολλά λαλείν.” –HESIOD.

In this age of education, and national schools, it seems strange that no one should have established an academy for the instruction of young men in the art of lying with a good grace. While, however, I say this, I do not wish to be understood as being either an admirer or a censor of this noble art; but what I complain of is this, that although so many Munchausens are daily attempting to amuse us, they relate their marvels so clumsily, that weak indeed must the

whose credulity they can impose. To travellers, and those who say they have changed horses at Timbuctoo, or supped with the king of Ava, we should allow implicit faith; for small must that man's stock of politeness be, who would deny to such the privilege of embellishing their adventures as they please. But every-day liars should at least have some tact in their stories, some small show of probability in their improbabilities, that they may not be liable to detection from the dullest auditor. Take W-for instance, who has always a stock of wonderful adventures on hand, and who might really be a pleasant companion, if one could believe a word he says. It is the more distressing to be compelled to listen to his not extraordinary, but absolutely incredible, adventures, as, being by nature blessed with a strong arm, he might, like the true Munchausen, be ready to fight with what weapon he please the man who is bold enough to be sceptical on any point of his narrative. He will gravely tell you, “I had an excellent dinner yesterday ; turtle, venison, &c. &c. and walked home sober, after drinking four bottles of claret.” Now, for ourselves, although we may be pretty sure that he dined on mutton and small beer, we should have no objection to his using the long-bow with moderation, and might possibly have extended our believing faculties as far as two bottles ; but, at present, “Quod


be upon

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