young hearts in a delicious torrent. The features of Berkeley, and Swift, and Burke, with his face that of a potato-but of a thinking potato, nevertheless-and the other giant sons of Alma Mater dancing before their eyes in the first delirium of such honourable happiness. Even amid the terrible heat, a cold chill came over the disappointed, and they pressed their hands against their throats, to relieve the choking sensation. Their labours concluded, the fellows moved towards the huge folding-doors, to secure a start for the fresh air, when the moment for throwing them open, as fixed by statute, should arrive. Each of us seized firmly our college caps, foreseeing the usual scramble. M'Allister stood with his hand on the lever that commanded the bolt, awaiting the signal from the outside.

Nor was the scene itself on the outside without its interest. There was assembled a large body of students, carefully arrayed in full academic costumes, according to orders strictly enforced on such an occasion. Among them was wedged an officer or two from the garrison fighting against the old enemy Time; schoolmasters anxious for the success of their former favourite pupils and grinders for their present. There, moves about a whole batch of old fathers, whose sons are in for honours in the hall, and have come to assist them by fidgeting up and down on the outside. These, some way or other, seem all to know each other, in the general community of their interests, and walk a dozen steps forwards in groups, and a dozen backwards, standing still being out of the question. The porter on duty has taken his stand on the steps, with a bell, such as is used in markets, raised to his shoulder, while his eye is fixed, and his mouth too, in his earnestness, on the wire attached to the small bell-tower above the commons' hall over the way, and which, from its connexion with the clock, descends at the very same instant as does the hammer. A provision is thus made for the moment which closes the scene of torture within the hall, being announced in the

most expeditious manner conceivable, on the principle of light, as testified by a common flash, travelling much faster than sound- -a beautiful application of the results of science to the purposes of humanity. A couple of seconds more, and all will be known. The crowd moves on towards the door, ready to receive the torrent which is about to boil out. The fathers draw up in a line a little apart by themselves, and exert themselves to stand still, though poorly. What the deuce is the matter with that clock? Is it asleep? Or does it, out of an unfeeling vanity, purposely protract its brief space of importance, conscious that when the first stroke of the four is chimed not one in all that assembly will recognise the existence of the remaining three, though the tones rose from the sweetest music bells upon earth! Does itoh! there it is, when it can't help it. Down goes the wire, down goes the market bell, down goes the bolt, and here they come. What a gush of faces, all burning with heat and excitement, such as marks them for half an hour afterwards! What a buzz of voices. "Well, how did you get on? Who got the premium? Poor P-lost it-only half a question of difference betweem them.-Give me a shake of your hand. I said you would be successful-did I not?—At least, I thought it.-Are you stuck (Latin for caution) oh! murder!--Will you come to the theatre to night ?-I'm off for Sligo," &c. &c. The successful candidates form the centres of admiring groups. Persons who are strangers to them, and have no personal interest in the matter, join in greeting them. We all like to know and be near the successful, no matter on what, even the fortunate candidate for parish sweep, especially if it be wash-hand day. Their fathers shake hands with every body, just as if they, not their sons, had won the honours; but the disappointed creatures are allowed to move off by themselves, getting over to their rooms along by the walls, their fathers and clums, their whole suite, and who try to pour in words of cheer; which, however, will be better understood to-morrow after

every where.

the night's rest, supposing it is to come. "Never mind, my boy, think no more about it-you did all you could your mother's satisfied-I'm satisfied-we're all satisfied. You had better go down to cousin Tim's for a week or so— you can have my gun-you'll beat him the next time

-not a doubt of it." The chum assents to the father behind the son's back to this position, "Not a doubt of it, sir, I repeat, and come you both and dine with me at my hotel." This is all well enough; still, the next time is not the present time, and it is the disappointment of young ambition; but then, again, it is young ambition, and the spirit of youth will shake, I expect, all off by to-morrow.

But if I get on in this way I will assuredly lose the symposium at Jack Moriarty's rooms, which, I know, will be instituted to celebrate his magnificent escape. I lost one before, and that is quite enough in a moderate lifetime.

Preparations on an extensive scale were already making for the festival. Biddy Snout was in full activity, foraging for implements of conviviality, in any chamber in college to which access was possible. The results were splendid, and formed, when arranged on Jack's table, an imposing picture. Three black bottles of Kinahan's Best towered in the centre. A single glass tumbler with the same quantity of spoons-this latter display exhausting the platechests of Jack and his numerous friends, was surrounded by an infinite multitude of breakfast cups of all patterns, a nicety which made not the heart of our Commissary General, Mrs. Snout, sore, being only solicitous about their being large enough. Three kettles of cold water, but boiled at breakfast time before the fires were, on account of the heat, extinguished, and which hence acquired a delicious softness, were arranged within the fender. A few chairs were sprinkled about the rooms, utterly disproportioned to the number of guests expected, and which seemed reserved for the more distinguished portion, which the first comers, indeed, voting themselves unanimously to be that portion, would be sure to occupy. The rest would, of necessity, ottomanise it on the floor, right glad of the chance.

Commons over, there was an awful rush up stairs, Mrs. Snout standing for a moment, as her master was in the rear of the torrent, to do the honours, but at last threw open the doors of the banquet-hall, and fled before the tide, exclaiming, "The Lord be good to them, the playful craitures." Still, however, it did not become us to forget good manners, and we each of us, accordingly, as we passed Jack's open door, gave it a sound kick as a substitute for rapping, Jack heartily joining in this courteous ceremony. After the one tumbler, and all the cups were charged, and the solitary spoon had gone circuit, our host proposed the first toast.

Humbug! and may I never forget the principles which got me my ex

aminations.

This constitutional sentiment was received as it deserved. A fearful hurricane of hammerings on table and floor ensued. The poor spoon, in its astonishment, flew round and round its tumbler like a rat round a cage. T-, the fellowship candidate in the chambers below, threw up his eyes towards the ceiling in a state of stupefaction, resulting from the storm over head; but he was brought, like St. Patrick's snakes, to "a sense of his situation" by his mouth filling with dust, produced by the awful concussion of the elements above him. Mrs. Snout put in her head, with a grin of ecstasy, "Och! my darlins, an' much good may it do yer all. Troth, it's no wonder ye shud be as dry as a bag of dust after the examinations." Here Biddy's presumption, addressing us so familiarly, was checked by a cup of punch, and the affectionate creature swallowed the affront with great good temper. After a cup, or two cups, or three cups, we attained a high state of excitement, and were rather above the ordinary singing point, so as to be satisfied with only that sort of a song, where there is a very small proportion of selfish solo, but an infinite quantity of chorus, wherein every man could enjoy his own noise.

"Come, Jack Moriarty, give us a song."

"The fact is, lads, I have no voice, but that is no difficulty."

66

'Certainly not. It will make

none to us.

THE conductors of the public business in England are honourably distinguished by three things from those of other nations devoted to the same pursuit. Their personal honour and honesty always stand unsullied; no suspicion of any pecuniary baseness can attach to any English minister, whether Whig or Tory. They take no bribes-they appropriate to themselves no public money. They have never even been accused of using the information they receive in their official capacity for the purpose of affecting the money-market and winning fortunes for themselves. It is not so with their political contemporaries in foreign parts. The second thing which distinguishes them from Continental statesmen is, that no rancorous feeling from the hot strife of the political arena is brought into the intercourse of private life. The most violent partymen on opposite sides may be the warmest allies in some intellectual pursuit, and meet as cordial friends over the social board. A third distinction is that English politicians, with scarcely an exception, retire gracefully into private life, while their political occupation is in abeyance, or when actually gone, and seek in some other honourable and lofty pursuit employment for minds too active by nature, education, and habit, to endure idleness. They make not themselves ridiculous by vain repinings after lost power— they make themselves not contemptible by paltry intrigue for their own personal restoration to office. All this is, for the most part, different with the men abroad. Our leading politicians are sure to be men of taste and learning; and it is delightful to see them, whether released or exiled from the burthen of public affairs, recurring in the decline of life to the beautiful studies of their youth, or, in maturer manhood, seeking to extend their renown by labours in another career, and

plying the pen of the commentator, the historian, or the poet. William Pitt in his retirement betook himself once more to hold converse with the illustrious Greek, whose matchless oratory roused the admiration, and lent wings to the ambition, of his boyhood. The venerable Eldon, and his brother, "the enlightened magistrate of nations," loved in their retirement to revive the classic lore on which the youthful powers of their great minds were exercised, and which first enabled them to plant a firm footstep on the road to worldly prosperity and undying fame. Fox and Burke, at every interval of political leisure, turned the mighty floods of their oratory into the channels of literature. In an earlier day Bolingbroke did the like; and in that day, abounding with the greatest names England can boast of, we have the example of Sir John Davis, of Bacon, and of Raleigh, amongst a host of others. Perhaps the case of the august captive, who could make his spirit travel free through all antecedent time, to compensate for his body's thraldom, and devise an adequate employment for his mind-the only one that could suit its grandeur-in writing the history of the world, is the most touching in that world's long story to him who thinks nicely and has a due appreciation of intellect and will. Impressed with these feelings, it is with unfeigned pleasure we observe that the two most intellectual and capable members of the late ministry have lost no time in presenting themselves to their fellow-countrymen in their literary capacity,-that capacity, decidedly, in which they are most calculated to shine. They probably feel that, as public servants, the doom upon them is not simply a long exile, but the awful "never to return!" That it should be so is certainly better for the British empire, and, we sincerely believe, for themselves here and their posthum