the Government in England, touching the
duties on foreign wines. And the French
newspapers were so astounded by the jokery
with which the deputation was received, and
by the ignorance of the Government, which
was wrong in all its statements (one of the
best informed among them computes to the
extent, in one calculation, of seventeen hundred
and fifty per cent), that I was ashamed
to see those journals lying about, and bought
up all I could find! "

My project for a National Jest-Book is now
before the Public. I would merely remark,
in conclusion, that if the revenue arising from
the compulsory purchase of the collection
should enable our enlightened government to
dispense with the Income Tax, the public
will be the gainers: inasmuch as the new impost
will provide them with something tangible
to show for their money.

BOND AND FREE.

IN FOUR CHAPTERS. CHAPTER THE FIRST.

UNDER the murmuring limes of Trinity, in
the radiant May term, two students, Gray
and Persey, walked, now backward and forward;
now beneath the fragrant avenue; now
on the path that fringes the stream from
Cam. The evening was as warm as July;
the sky-colours which tinged tree and turret,
seemed a fit herald of midsummer. Over the
old town the never-failing music of its bells
clashed cheerily; from the earth-shaking peal
of St. Mary's to the tinkle of the College
Chapel, that was calling the white-robed
students, flitting ghostlike, under corridor
and arch, to prayer. Upon the water lingered
yet a fairy fleet, and the light dip of
the feathered oar; full on the open stream—
sharp under the little bridge—touched the
ear pleasantly and dreamily.

"How can you talk so mournfully, my
dear fellow," said Gray, "amidst these beautiful
sounds and sights? I do believe if you
were amongst the blest you would find something
to make a grievance of. Your voice
sounds discordant."

"Ah, Gray," returned the other, "as for
the glory and the beauty; it is glory and
beauty I bewail. That is the pity of it. How
cruel that this gate of life should be made
so fine, but that when we have passed through
it, behold for us—who have an experience of
dreamland—nothing but the pitiless world.
I have youth, I have health. I have money
here. I have dear friends—you, Gray, the
chief—and there is not a single duty in this
college life which can be called distasteful."

"Morning chapel?" suggested Gray.

"I have taken as high places in the examination
as I expected."

"Well, then, what is the matter? What,
in the Fiend's name, are you coming to?"

"This, man; that it must all end, and I
know not how soon. How can I enjoy the
noontide, when perhaps I may never see
another sun? If Sir William withdrew his
protection, I should be a beggar to-morrow."

"Indeed? But I knew one once who
reminds me of you very strongly. He was
a prudent youth who never would touch
pudding in vacation time for fear he should
miss it when he got back to school; and
I remember he died (and serve him right)
the very last day of our Christmas holidays.
Think of the good things that poor
boy must have lost for a whole six weeks;
and take warning. Seriously, what right
have you to be discontented? Compare
your fate with mine; and reap a horrid joy.
I have no rich patron to help me even for
a little time; and, though I be a scholar,
a fellowship is too wide a leap for me. Old
Doctor Wild is my poet, and has sung my
song before:

              In a melancholy study,
                 None but myself,
             Methouglit my muse grew muddy ;
                    After seven years reading
                    And costly breeding,
                 I felt but could find no pelf.
Into learned rags I've rent my plush and satin,
And now am fit to beg in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin;
Instead of Aristotle would I had got a patten;
Alas ! poor scholar ! whither wilt thou go?

              Cambridge, now I must leave thee,
                  And follow fate ;
              College hopes do deceive me ;
                      I oft expected
                      To have been elected,
                  But desert is reprobate.
Masters of colleges have no common graces,
And they that have fellowships have but common
   places;
And those that scholars are, they must have handsome
   faces.
        Alas ! poor scholar! whither wilt thou go? "

"Nay, my good friend Leonard," said the
other,

                "I have hit it:
                    Peace, good man, fool;
                 Thou hast a trade will fit it;
                         Draw thy indenture,
                         Be found at adventure,
                     An apprentice to a free school;
              There thou mayst command,
                  By William Lilly's charter;
                      There thou mayst whip, strip,
                  And hang and draw and quarter,
                       And commit to the red rod
                  Both Will, and Tom and Arthur;
            Ay, ay ! 'tis thither, thither wilt thou go?"

"I should never have given you, Persey,
credit for knowing that old song; I'll wager
there's no other Trinity man who does. But
you're right, I must take to tutoring."

"I wish, for my own part," said Persey,
mournfully, "that I had never left it."

"You a tutor? Why, what do you mean,
Brooke?"

"Sit down on the sloping grass here under