'Tis that in the trembling notes
Love's pure spirit softly floats;
"Tis that in the moonbeam's ray
Love delights to hold his play;
"Tis that in the world I see,

Leila, nought but love and thee.

Feb. 19.-Received from Oxford a large parcel of prose and verse. I am very much pressed for room, nevertheless I am particularly requested by the Club (on the immediate suggestion of Rowley), to insert the two contributions with which we are most pleased.

“A Collar of Brawn, with M. B.'s compliments.”

"A Barrel of Sausages, with Lord N's best wishes."

Feb. 20.-The authorship of the above-mentioned Valentine is fixed, I understand, upon Gerard Montgomery. Mr. Bellamy fancies himself suspected, and is rather alarmed for the consequences. He has purchased a smart little pistol, nailed a sovereign to the wall of his apartment, and practises three hours aday. He says he is not much afraid, for " he can hit George to a nicety."

Feb. 25.-Martin Sterling slanged me for being satirical. All the P. C. articles were attacked one after the other:-" Lovers' Vows," "Politeness and Politesse," "A Certain Age," "Not at Home."-Golightly came to my assistance. "Mr. Sterling,' said he, "let me give you a little information. There is as little truth in your remarks as there is in Lovers' Vows; neither Politeness nor Politesse can bear you any longer: no one should talk in this style who is not of a Certain Age; and if you persist in it, I shall recommend to Mr. Courtenay to give you a flat Not at Home." Mr. Hodgson remarked that Mr. Golightly was a flat for supposing any thing flat could come from the President. Lozell laughed, and Oakley said " Pshaw."

Feb. 26.-Transcribed a few stansas by E. M. They were written soon after the lady's marriage. They were composed in a more tranquil moment, and breathe a more subdued spirit than those which were inserted in the Scrap-Book, No. I.

I do not weep-the grief I feel

Is not the grief that dims the eye;
No accents speak, no tears reveal
The inward pain that cannot die.

Mary! thou know'st not, none can know
The silent woe that still must live;
I would not change that silent woe
For all the joy the world can give.

Yet, by thine hair so lightly flowing,
And by thy smiling lips, I vow,
And by thy cheek so brightly glowing,
And by the meekness of thy brow,

And by those eyes, whose tranquil beam
So joyfully is wont to shine,
As if thy bosom could not dream

Of half the woe that preys on mine,

I do not murmur that another

Hath gain'd the love I could not wake;
I look on him as on a brother,

And do not hate him-for thy sake.

And, Mary, when I gaze on thee,

I think not on my own distress,
Serene-in thy serenity,

And happy-in thine happiness.

Feb. 27.-The King of Clubs has too much vanity to withhold from the world Miss Harrison's Valentine, although the habits of procrastination in which the fair Authoress indulges (habits by the way in which his Majesty occasionally participates) have caused it to reach him much after its day. The time I am sure is not far distant, when to the names of a Baillie, an Edgeworth, an Inchbald, and a Morgan, Criticism will add that of Fanny Harrison.

MISS HARRISON'S VALENTINE.

"Nec sum adeo informis."-VIRG.

Hail to his Majesty of Clubs!-all hail
His manly figure, and his motley robe!
Hail to his face-although it's much too pale;
Hail to his faulchion, and his belted globe!
I love his look, where fascinations rove;

I love his crown, whatever ills betide it;

I love the club that Fate hath fix'd beside it,

Like Robur squatting by the side of Jove;

I love his thin straight wig, and much I prize

His great black eyebrows, and his small white nose,
His stunted beard, the buckles in his shoes,
His round mustachios, and his pointed eyes.
I love his tout ensemble-e'en his crimes,

His puns, his punch, his reasonings, and his rhymes!

Feb. 28.-Gerard gave us, from a Cambridge correspondent, the following whimsical imitation, or rather parody, of Horace :

" Integer vitæ scelerisque purus," &c.-HOR.

The man, my GERARD, arm'd with native strength,
And of his own worth conscious, needs no aid
Of venal critic, or ephemeral puff

Prelusive, or satiric quiver stor❜d

With poison'd shafts defensive: fearless he
Sends forth his work, essay, or ode, or note,
On crabb❜d Greek play, or squib political.
Him nor the fierce Eclectic's foaming page
Aught troubles, nor the uncourteous Times, nor yet
The Journal, which, misnam'd of Classics, deals
Its three-months' errors out. For me of late

In Johnian walks sole wandering, while the thoughts
Of Emily beyond my wonted bounds
Drew me excursive, a reviewer stern
Encount'ring, with kind words of courtesy
Accosted bland, and me, though ill prepar'd
For critic fight, assail'd not; scribe, like whom
Oak-crown'd Germania from her warlike shore
Sent never, nor the realm of Wallace old,
Dry-nurse of critics. Place me on the earth's
Far limit, where, o'er sluggish Muscovy,

The winds blow frore, and mists of ignorance dark
O'erhang the north side of the world: beneath

Some Dey's stern nod, in torrid Barbary

Place me, where books are none: yet, fearless still,
I'll sing of Emily, and, in fit strain,

Record her tuneful voice and thrilling smiles.

W.

To-morrow our First Volume is to be launched.-I remember, when I was last at Plymouth, I was present at the launch of a ship of war. It was a very fine sight: but our " Etonian" will be much finer, rigged out in gaudy Morocco, or odorous Russia, or unassuming calf.

Success to our weak vessel! She has an easy voyage to run: the breeze of hope sends her briskly forward, and smiling faces shine upon her, as brightly as the sun on a July morning.

Off she goes!-Three cheers for "The Etonian!"

INDEX

ΤΟ

THE FIRST VOLUME.

Account of the proceedings which led | Fitzroy (Mary), Story of, 283.

Articles in preparation, 24, 95, 170, Godiva, a Tale, 146.

I."Yes" and "No," Lozell's Essay
on the Art of saying, 105.
Youthful Friendship, 48.

END OF VOL. I.