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the man whom the author looks upon as the ultimate saviour of the troubled country. This legitimist book, under the title of "Dieu le veut,” written after the bloody days of June, might, in spite of the vigour of its language, and the justice and good sense of most of its reasonings and remarks, never have emerged so prominently from the inundation of political pamphlets which floods republican France, had it not pleased the government, pushed on by the clamours of a more violent party, to seize the work, and bring the author to trial. The affair made a considerable sensation in August last; the court of justice was crowded: the interest excited was great. The passages more particularly incriminated were, that which likened the republic to the plague; that which said the sovereignty of the people, when not a bloody truth, was a ridiculous mystification; and that which contained the words, "the Republic will have proved to be the necessary transition from a revolutionary tempest to a social regeneration. In the general movement of men's minds is written the happy advent of the chosen of Providence. He draws nearer he will come!" After the defence of his own counsel, M. d'Arlincourt himself rose and supported, in a striking speech, the honesty of his intentions and his designs as a bon citoyen, without bating one iota of his legitimist principles. The result was a unanimous verdict of "not guilty "from the jury. A burst of applause, which no authority could check, resounded through the court. It was from the common classes, also, that came the approbation : workmen shouted in the court, "Dieu le veut! Dieu le veut!" to the rythm of the famous "des lampions!" and, on the morrow, delegates of the dames de la Halle, and of the artisans of Paris came, with bouquets, to felicitate the author on his acquittal. We will not lay an unnecessary weight upon this move

ment of a portion of the lower classes, which may arise from the sentiments of a small minority, although perhaps more considerable than seems to be generally supposed. The result, however, of the trial has been to spread the book through the country in its almost interminable editions, and thus to spread more and more abroad those legitimist feelings, which, we confidently assert are daily more and more gaining ground throughout France, and which may one day, in case of another revolution, that may be brought upon the country by the excesses of the ultra party, bear their fruits. At all events the destiny of these two books, in furthering the cause of legitimacy, in the one case contrary to the opinions of the author, in the other by the very means intended to check and even crush it, is singular enough.

Whatever may be written upon the dark pages of a nation's future, it is very evident that "Legitimacy in France" has made considerable ground among the masses. It cannot, certainly, be said to have been from the influence of convictions, or, in the general herd, from any reliance upon theories of legitimacy, properly speak-' ing. It has arisen from disgust and distrust of other governments; from the sad experience of the miseries occasioned to the country by the present revolution; from despair in the stability of a republican rule, with insurrection always growling beneath the surface; from hope in a greater stability and confidence under a legitimate monarchy. Legitimacy, then, can but grow and flourish in France in the chances of revolutions; and if it triumphs, it will be by the excesses of its enemies, and the restless subversive attempts of the ultra-republican party. But again who can say confidently that it will triumph? Still more: who shall dare, in the present state of France, to say that it shall not?

THE COLLEGE.-A SKETCH IN VERSE.

"Scinditur incertum studia in contraria vulgus."

OFT has some fair inquirer bid me say,

What tasks, what sports beguile the gownsman's day ;
What cares are ours-by what light arts we try
To teach our sober-footed hours to fly.

List, then, ye belles, who, nursed in golden ease,
No arts need study, but the arts to please;

Who need no science, while with skill ye know
To wield the weapons which your charms bestow-
With grace to thread the dance's mazy throng-
To strike the tuneful chords, and swell the song-
To rouse man's sterner spirit to his toil,
And cheer its harshness with a grateful smile.
Thus my weak muse a bolder flight shall raise,
Lured by the glorious hope of Beauty's praise.

Soon as the clouds divide, and dawning day
Tints the quadrangle with its earliest ray,
The porter, wearied with his watchings late,
Half opes his eyelids and the wicket gate;
And many a yawning gyp comes slipshod in,
To wake his master ere the bells begin.

Round yon gray walls, enchained by slumber's spell,
Each son of learning snores within his cell.

For though long vigils the pale student keep,

E'en learning's self, we know, must sometimes sleep-
So morn shall see him, with a brightened face,
Fresh as a giant, to resume his race.

But hark! the chimes of yonder chapel-tower
Sound the arrival of the unwelcome hour.
Now drowsy Lentulus his head half rears,
To mumble curses on the Dean he fears.
What though his gyp exhort him, ere too late,
To seek the chapel and avert his fate?
Who, when secure his downy sheets between,
Recks of the threatenings of an angry Dean!
Slow rolling round he bids his mentor go
And bear his warnings to the shades below.
Soon shall he, summoned to the well-known room,*
Repent his recklessness and learn his doom,
Within the walls a dull constraint to know,
And many a midnight jollity forego.

Far happier he, to whom the harsh-tongued bell
Sounds, as it should, his murdered slumber's knell.
Cold he contemns, and, shuffling on his clothes,
Boldly stalks forth, nor heeds his redd'ning nose.
Straight o'er the grass-plot cuts his dewy line
In mad defiance of the College fine;

Breathless with hurry gains the closing grate,
And thanks his stars he was not just too late.
His name prick'd off upon the marker's roll,
No twinge of conscience racks his easy soul,
While tutor's wines and Dean's soft smiles repay
His prompt submission to the College sway.

* Videlicet-the Dean's apartment; a visit to which frequently concludes by the visitor's finding himself "gated," i. e., obliged to be within the college walls by 10 o'clock at night; by this he is prevented from partaking in suppers, or other nocturnal festivities, in any other college or in lodgings.

The service o'er, by Cam's dull bank of sedge
He strides, while hunger gains a keener edge;
(Though fasting walks I cannot loathe too much,
Since such my custom, my advice be such.)
For him, who straight returns, what horrors wait!
How chill and comfortless his chamber's state.
The crackling fuel only serves too well

To show the cold it vainly strives to quell;
While the grim bedmaker provokes the dust,

And soot-born atoms, which his tomes encrust:

Awhile suspended high in air they soar,

Then, sinking, seek the shelves on which they slept before. Down bolt his commons and his scalding tea,

Then off to lectures in pedantic glee.

He notes each artifice and master-stroke-
Each musty parallel and mustier joke;
Snaps up the driblets to his share consigned,
And as he cram'd his body crams his mind;
Then seeks at home digestion for his lore,
And slams in Folly's face the twice-barred door.

This hour, perchance, sees Lentulus descend
To seek the chamber of some jovial friend-
Yawn o'er the topics of the passing day,
Or damn the losses of his last night's play;
While well he augurs from the clattering plates,
The glad intelligence that breakfast waits.

From Memory's store the sportive muse may glean
The charms that gild awhile the careless scene-
The song, the anecdote, the bet, the joke,

The steaming viands, and the circling smoke-
The racy cider-cup, or brisk champagne,

Long prompt the merriment and rouse the strain;
Till Pleasure, sated of the loaded board,
Seeks what amusement fresher scenes afford.

Some prove their skill in fence-some love to box-
Some thirst for vengeance on the dastard fox;
Each by his fav'rite sport's enchanting power,
Cheats of its tediousness the flying hour.

Now the dull court a short siesta takes,
For scarce a footstep her still echo wakes,

Save where the prowling duns their victim scout,
And seize the spendthrift wretch that dares steal out.

Come, let us wander to the river's bank,

And learn what charm collects yon breathless rank;
The hope or horror pictured in each face

Marks the excitement of the coming race.

Hark! o'er the waters booms the sound of strife;
Now the hush'd voices leap at once to life;
Now to their toil the striving oarsmen bend;
Now their gay hues the flaunting banners blend;
Now leap the wavedrops from the flashing oar;
Now the woods echo to the madd'ning roar;
Now hot th' enthusiastic crowd pursue,
And scream hoarse praises on the unflinching crew;
Now in one last wild chance each arm is strained;
One panting struggle more-the goal is gained.

A scene like this, what stream can boast beside ?
Scarce rival Isis on her fairer tide.*

But think not thus could live the rower's power,
Save long privation steeled him for the hour.
The couch relinquished at the voice of morn,
The toilsome exercise, the cup forsworn,
The frugal dinner, and scarce-tasted wine-
Are these no sacrifice at glory's shrine ?

Thus with new trophies shall his walls be graced

Each limb new strengthened, and each nerve new braced.
Some idlers to the pavements keep their feet,
And strut and ogle all the passing street.
And if 'tis Sunday's noon, on King's Parade,t
See the smug tradesman too and leering maid;
See the trim shop-boy cast his envious eye
On Topling's waistcoat and on Sprightly's tie,
Bravely resolved to hoard his labour's fruit,
And ape their fancies in his next new suit.

But now the sounding clocks in haste recall
Each hungry straggler to his College hall;
For Alma Mater well her nursling rears,
Nor cheats his gullet, while she fills his ears.
Heavens! what a clatter rends the steam-fraught air—
How waiters jostle, and how Freshmen stare!

One thought here strikes me-and the thought is sad-
The carving for the most part is but bad.
See the torn turkey and the mangled goose!
See the hack'd sirloin and the spattered juice!
Ah! can the College well her charge fulfil,
Who thus neglects the petit-maître's skill?
The tutor proves each pupil on the books-
Why not give equal license to the cooks?
As the grave lecturer, with scrupulous care,
Tries how his class picks up its learned fare-
From Wisdom's banquet makes the dullard fast-
Denied admittance till his trial's past-

So the slow Freshman on a crust should starve,
Till practice taught him nobler food to carve :
Then Granta's sons a useful fame should know,
And shame with skill each dinner-table beau.

High on the daïs, and more richly stored,
Well has old custom placed the Fellow's board :
Thus shall the student feel his fire increased
By brave ambition for the well-graced feast-
Mark the sleek merriment of rev'rend Dons,
And learn how science well rewards her sons.
But spare, my muse, to pierce the sacred gloom
That veils the mysteries of the Fellows' room;
Nor hint how Dons, their untasked hours to pass,
Like Cato, warm their virtues with the glass. ‡

In the number of con

Be not indignant, ye broader waves of Thames and Isis tending barks, and the excitement of the spectators of the strife, Cam may, with all due modesty, boast herself unequalled. To the swiftness of her champion galleys ye have yourselves often borne witness.

The most fashionable promenade for the "spectantes" and "spectandi" of Cambridge.

"Narratur et prisci Catonis

Sæpe mero caluisse virtus."-HORACE, Odes.

Once more, at sound of chapel chime, repairs
The surpliced scholar to his vesper prayers;
For discipline this tribute at his hands,
First and last duty of the day, demands.
Then each, as diligence or mirth invite,
Careful improves or thriftless wastes the night.
Stand in the midst, and with observant eye
Each chamber's tenant at his task descry.
Here the harsh mandate of the Dean enthrals
Some prayerless pris'ner to the College walls,
Who in the novel's pages seeks to find
A brief oblivion for his angry mind.

Haply the smoke- wreathed meerschaum shall supply
An evenness of soul which they deny.

Charm! that alike can soothing pleasure bring
To sage or savage, mendicant or king;
Sov'reign to blunt the pangs of torturing pain,
Or clear the mazes of the student's brain!
Swift at thy word, amidst the soul's misrule,
Content resumes her sway, and rage grows cool.

Here pores the student, till his aching sight
No more can brook the glimmering taper's light;
Then Slumber's links their nerveless captive bind,
While Fancy's magic mocks his fevered mind;
Then a dim train of years unborn sweeps by
In glorious vision on his raptured eye:
See Fortune's stateliest sons in homage bow,
And fling vain lustre o'er his toilworn brow!
Away, ye drivellers! dare ye speak to him
Of cheek grown bloodless, or of eye grown dim?
Who heeds the sunken cheek, or wasted frame,
While Hope shouts "Onward! to undying fame."

Glance further, if thine eye can pierce the mist
Raised round the votaries of Loo and Whist;
Scarce such kind Venus round her offspring flung
To bear him viewless through the Punic throng;*
Scarce such floats round old Skiddaw's crown of snow,
And veils its grimness from the plains below.
Here, too, gay Lentulus conspicuous sits,

Chief light and oracle of circling wits.

Who with such careless grace the trick can take,
Or fling with such untrembling hand his stake?
But though with well-feigned ease his glass he sips,
And puffs the balmy cloud from smiling lips,
Care broods within-his soul alone regards
His ebbing pocket and the varying cards;
While one resolve his saddened spirit fills-
The diminution of his next term's bills.

Lamp after lamp expires as night grows late,

And feet less frequent rattle at the gate.
The wearied student now rakes out his fire-
The host grows dull, and yawning guests retire-
Till, all its labours and its follies o'er,

The silent College sinks to sleep once more.

Thus roll the hours, thus roll the weeks away, Till terms expiring bring the long-feared day,

* VIRGIL, Eneid, i. 415.

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