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Society which has struggled with, and overcome, ridicule, and contempt, and prejudice, in its birth and in its growth-that Society which has, within no very long time back, exhibited buds of very great promise within its walls—that Society, which deigns not to apologise for its merits to the multitude, and which may condemn by disapproval, or may honour by assent, this, the to them unknown attempt of their humble and unworthy vindicator. From that Society, three of the few young men now distinguished as speakers in parliament have proceeded.
To the good sense of Eton and Etonians I fearlessly commit its hopes and its prospects. Embracing subjects as various and as interesting as propriety will admit of, it bestows, I will venture to assert, an additional advantage on the store which Eton already possesses. It
suffer through my feeble advocacy : I may lose the small estimation which it is my happiness to enjoy in its cause. That loss shall be cheerfully endured, if I have the honour of feeling that it has been caused by such an endeavour as this. I am well aware that I am going against the grain, as regards the inclinations of many of my readers. They may find here nothing witty or amusing : they may find something troublesome. But I feel and know that I am now doing a far greater, if not a more acceptable, service to my fellow-citizens, than if I yielded to their prejudices, or than when I have endeavoured to amuse their imaginations. If there is to a humble and unknown writer like myself any truly just and legitimate object of ambition, it is that of being known as one who feared not the tide of popular prejudice, or the gale of popular
displeasure ; whose wish it was, to do service even to the unwilling, and to have his name connected with that of an Institution which will ever be applauded by Candour and Justice, as it has ever been calumniated by Folly and Misrepresentation.
Vainly, o'er the rippling sea,
And howls in gloom around;
And pealing thunders sound.
Behold the Spirit's form!
The fury of the storm.
Above the sea, and stormy gale,
'Mid the widely-swelling foam ; The tempest was a dirge for thee,
And the deep abyss a home ; And, mingled with its roaring, rise Thy pray’rs for mercy to the skies.
Now all is hush'd and calin again,
And heaving bosom show
Forgot by all below.
In him her hope, her fear ;
And flows her silent tear.
She watch'd the coming sail ;
And the howling of the gale.
And the sickness of delay,
Fell silently away.
In thick’ning gloom and darkness roll; And day on day, and night on night,
Fall sadly o'er the victim's soul
Bloom from thy youthful cheek hath fled,
Thou hadst breath'd thy parting breath ;
Thou tread'st the path of Death.
Those lips are mov'd no more ;
For the strife of pain is o’er :
LETTER FROM THE COUNTRY.
Barnton Park, Oct. 17, 1827. My dear Bouverie ; I certainly do not think that you will much regret that you could not accept Frederick Thornton's invitation to accompany me hither, unless it be that you may miss the opportunity of gaining a little information about dogs and horses. I arrived here yesterday afternoon; and, if I may judge from the commencement, I am immured in a place inhabited only by fox-hunters and barbarians. On my arrival, I found the family waiting dinner for me, which I had particularly begged them not to do; but it is one of their established maxims to think that they must know what a person likes better than he does himself. I begged them to go to dinner, but the 'squire said he was in no hurry, which was immediately re-echoed by his wife, and both agreed that it would be more comfortable for me to change every particle of my dress. They accordingly ordered dinner to be kept back; but, alas ! their kind intentions were frustrated by the non-arrival of my trunks, and I was obliged to wait near an hour before I could get a mouthful of dinner, during which time I amused myself in examining the furniture of the best parlour, and in watching the motions of some silver pheasants, which were feeding on the lawn. In due time the hostess appeared, and made me many apologies for having left me so long to my own meditations. I could hardly keep my eyes open while I assured her I had been very well amused.
well amused. She immediately proceeded to the weather, and observed, that the rain had been so hard, that the 'squire had been prevented from hunting. In a short time in came Frederick, and gave me a hearty welcome, and apologized for his brother’s absence, who, he told me, was gone to a neighbouring estate of the 'squire's, to get a little pheasant-shooting. He desired to be remembered to you, and to all his old Eton friends; he is very much pleased with the commenco