But it will be asked whether all combination is objected to, because the mania for societies has been carried so far as to substitute a spurious excitement for practical utility in many undertakings? Assuredly not. It is culpable in the wealthy noble to offer his guinea subscription to a Church Building Association, in lieu of erecting, like his ancestors, noble monuments of piety for the benefit of his humbler neighbours. It is culpable in a sectarian committee to educate the poor without regard to Christian principle, and the authority of a Christian Bishop. It is culpable for any to avoid the calls of charity, or the responsibility of personal duties, by contributing slightly to the funds of some self-constituted society. Let such bodies be regulated by fixed and definite laws, perpetuated by proper succession, devoted to proper objects. Where individuals have no direct call to undertake the discharge of some high obligation, or where they have not the means and ability to effect it, let them, by their united efforts, compensate for their private weakness. "L'union fait la force," is the motto of the youngest state in Europe, but it conveys a truth by which the conduct of our older nations may well be regulated. The tone of these remarks has become, perhaps, somewhat too serious; it may relieve them to cite an instance where a voluntary combination may produce the happiest results.

The state of the fine windows in our justly-admired Chapel has long been a subject of regret to all who think that the House of God cannot be too highly adorned with the best offerings of such poor skill or wealth as we have been allowed to possess. Rumour mentions a design of supplying the poverty of the great East window by an appropriate insertion of stained glass. The recent

improvements in its manufacture have brought it to something like the depth and brilliancy of the ancient remains, and every one who has been accustomed to enter our Chapel week after week, will feel how great an improvement might be made in the general appearance of the building by the execution of rich and appropriate designs. It is an object to which all may well rejoice to contribute; they will be supplying a want which it does not fall within the province of any individual to remedy; they will be showing their general sympathy with all the memories that so endear to us that glorious and venerable fane. If the Eton Bureau may be made the vehicle of such a prediction, I will venture to affirm that before the return of another summer, the beams of the rising sun will stream through the mullions of our fine East window, casting "a dim religious light," such as may best harmonize with the feelings suited to that holy place, and testify that the Etonians of the present day are not less loyal to the Church of their Fathers, than their pious and Sainted Founder,

ALPHABETICAL GOSSIP,

From a friend in the Country, to another in Town.
Wonders will never cease, they say,
And something new starts every day;
Thus those, who ever scandal worship,
And love, and doubt-involving gossip,
Having perchance, like me or you,
At present nothing else to do,

Make this the sum of all their labours

To scan the secrets of their neighbours;

And, certes, 'tis a relaxation,
Besides a goodly occupation

For friends like us, quite entre nous,
To tell what's what, and who is who,
Laugh at the grave, the gay, the sage,
In this our wonder-working age.

I know you like to hear from me,
You always get the truth, d'ye see;
And what a treat, where'er you roam,
To learn what's going on at home,
The divers little odds and ends,
With all the news about our friends;
So to proceed-nor shilly-shally,
I'll take them alphabetically.

Know first, young A. B. C. thinks fit
With D. E. F. to flirt a bit;

To flirt! oh! horrid term-the dunce
Should marry the poor girl at once,
And not create such observation;
I never could endure flirtation;
And yet it seems in requisition
With our young people' of condition.
He's always with her, plays the flute,
And thinks he sings "My Heart and Lute,"
Which, by the bye, is "all his store,"
He'll give her that he can no more;
But then, you know, to try her patience,
He has, what has he?-Expectations!!!

Miss G. H. I., who liked so well
That dear, romantic J. K. L.-
What do you think? a pretty go!
She's gone and married M. N. O.,

Ninety-ninth cousin to a lord

And wears moustache-they met abroad
This happened but the other day,
At Gretna, so the gossips say.

I'll ascertain the facts, don't doubt it,
And then I'll tell you more about it.

Old Mr. P., and Q. R. S.
Are very thick, I must confess;
I wonder how th' affair will end;
But then, he's always been her friend ;
Such friendship's very rich and rare,
• None but the brave deserve the fair!'

Oh! by the bye, Miss T. U. V.
Declares she'll not tormented be
By such a bore as Mr. W.,

d;

That odious man who used to trouble you,
When you were with us, dear, last year;
I'm not the least surprized at her,
(Are you?) for wishing to be off-
He'd such an interesting cough,
And said he had insured his life!
What matter! that won't keep a wife.

I leave our neighbours X. Y. Z.,
Old bachelors-they'll never wed!

And now, my dear, just send me down
A sketch of what's been done in town;

If you, who are invited out

Each night to either ball or rout,

Watched well, and weighed each word and look, You'd find materials for a book.

Adieu-I'll put this on the shelf—

A word at parting-Mind yourself!!!

G. W. M.

THE BATTLE OF INVERLOCHY.

1.

Inverlochy! Inverlochy ! speak thou loudly for Montrose,
Keep a blood-stain of our slaughters, and an echo of our blows;
Tell the canter and the rebel how King Charles's men make war,
And put the rogues in mind of their proud Macullum More.

2.

Speak a word for us, Ben Nevis, when our standard is in rags; Grave our names, old Conyarrick, on thy torrent-beds and crags; Bear ye witness now and ever, how we wrought our country's weal, And be the mirror of our fame, ye waters of Lochiel.

3.

There is glory round the mountain-tops, there's triumph in the gale, And the eagle's scream to help our shout, and mock the Campbell's

wail;

And the loyal sun hath beamed his best to tear the mist away;
Oh! well is thee, thou valiant sun! to see so bold a fray.

4.

We have won, ye piny forests! snows and rivers! we have won; 'Twixt the morning and the gloaming all our winter's work is done; For the heathery upland's purple cheek hath blushed with foeman's

gore,

And blood-red waves go shuddering up to kiss a blood-red shore.

5.

We have broken through the icy bars, that fenced thy lands, Argyle! We have striven through many a cold morass and many a grim

defile ;