Still the Pope must confess, I'm the Primate of Rome,
While Mussulmen, Heretics, Jews, all agree,

There are Three in the Church, who must rank before me.

A liquid by nature, such hardness is mine,

That Shakespeare and Persius call me canine

Which perhaps may account for my place in the ark,

Where wondrous to say, I appeared in the dark.
Though cradled in arms, and hardened by war,

To soldiers and sailors the curse of the law.
The first in reviews, when a battle draws near,

I always prefer the last place in the rear.

Without me this riddle would ne'er have been made,

And my presence alone can your ignorance aid.

II.

Somewhat of all things I contain,

Fire, Wind, and Storm, and Heavy Rain;
Now grave, now gay, what tales I tell
Of man's first hour, and parting knell ;
Lo! at my word look pale and tremble,
All those who cheat, all who dissemble;
Yet never at the best of times,
Am I myself quite free from crimes-
I cheer man's home in wintry weather-
Full many couples bring together-
And this is oft my master's boast,
"Men like thee best, when lying most;"

Yet neither hand nor foot have I,

Nor eye to see, nor mouth to lie.

F. C.

that it will be the same with men.

Nay, the consolations of faith are, if we rightly think of them, still higher. In trees and flowers new leaves and new blooms succeed to old ones; but with us we shall ourselves live again; it will be the same souls and the same bodies, only immortal and incorruptible, that will rise at the last day. So should faith console us, and oftentimes we speak as though she did, but we are only braggarts, and feel all the while as though she did not.

M

ENIGMAS.

I.

Phoenician by birth, as reported by Fame,

I often have changed both my form and my name Though erewhile in Greece I established my home, Still the Pope must confess, I'm the Primate of Rome, While Mussulmen. Heretics. Jews. all agree.

བཅས་ བཡ Pསམ ཐས་་

Lo! at my word look pale and tremble,
All those who cheat, all who dissemble;
Yet never at the best of times,

Am I myself quite free from crimes

I cheer man's home in wintry weather-
Full many couples bring together-

And this is oft my master's boast,
"Men like thee best, when lying most ;"

Yet neither hand nor foot have I,

Nor eye to see, nor mouth to lie.

THE

ETON BUREAU.

No. V.

THE GRAVES.

How like a silent stream shaded with night,
And gliding softly with our windy sighs
Moves the whole frame of this solemnity;
Tears, sighs, and blacks filling the simile!
While I, the only murmur in this grove

Of Death, thus hollowly break forth.-THE FATal Dowry.

Who could ever see the last of a race vanish away from the earth, without a melancholy and gloomy thought?The last leaf on a tree, the last flower in a garden, are wont, when they fall, to move me strangely. In their case, indeed, experience teaches me that Spring will renew all that has perished in the Winter. Faith should teach me Nay, the consolations

that it will be the same with men. of faith are, if we rightly think of them, still higher. In trees and flowers new leaves and new blooms succeed to old ones; but with us we shall ourselves live again; it will be the same souls and the same bodies, only immortal and incorruptible, that will rise at the last day. So should faith console us, and oftentimes we speak as though she did, but we are only braggarts, and feel all the while as though she did not.

M

I have seen the last of an ancient race laid low in his narrow tomb. He and his daughter sleep together each in a green grass grave in Mansfield Church yard, and there is none left to carry on their line. I was nearly the only mourner in that old man's funeral. Theirs had been a rich and powerful race, and I believe a good one; but its goodness and its beauty seemed to have all centred in the persons of its two last descendants. May the turf be light upon them, and may its verdure on their graves be as perpetual as their memorics in my heart.

Many years ago, when I was staying for some months at Mansfield, I used to meet in my solitary rambles amongst the copses that clothe the sides of its hills, an old man and a young girl, who were always walking about together, who seemed to live but for each other, forgetful of all else in the delight of their own gentle and loving intercourse. Very few of the dwellers in the village knew them. The old man, they thought, was rather proud, and kept aloof from their society. Their name was Milford, and though not rich, they had belonged to the higher ranks of life. Thus much was known, but nothing farther. There were of course, a thousand gossiping rumours afloat concerning them, the truth of any one of which implied the falsehood of all the others. They were invented to disguise the sad fact that in very deed the good people of Mansfield knew nothing at all about them.

I hate descriptions. No one, unless he is what old Tonson would have called a "most eminent hand," should try his powers at them. Work at them as I may, I can never bring mine even near to the ideal standard, which at the time has possession of my mind. It is easy enough to say that" she had beauty united with elegance, and regularity of feature combined with liveliness of expres