TRA

ELIZABETH AND RALEIGH.

`RADITION has ascribed Raleigh's personal introduction to Elizabeth to an accident, which one would rather expect to meet with in the legends of the poets, and the atmosphere of fairy land, than among the realities of everyday life. It is probably untrue; though, in Elizabeth's reign, men were inspired by a spirit of exaltation which made them equal to deeds of gallantry and refinement, of a kind unknown to our utilitarian age. Raleigh's act of chivalrous courtesy is thus described:

Elizabeth, in her progress from the royal barge to the palace [at Greenwich], came to a spot where the ground was so miry, that, for a moment, she hesitated to advance. Immediately, Raleigh stepped forward, and, with "an air of devoted gallantry," cast off and spread upon the earth the richly-embroidered cloak which decked his handsome person. Her Majesty, after a minute's pause, and a not dissatisfied glance at the noble figure and stately bearing of her soldiercourtier, placed her foot on the novel carpet, and proceeded on her way. Soon afterwards, she sent for Raleigh, and took him into her service.

W. H. D. Adams.

H

THE ART OF BOOK-KEEPING.

OW hard, when those who do not wish to lend, thus lose, their books, Are snared by angiers-folks that fish with literary Hooks,Who call and take some favourite tome, but never read it through : They thus complete their set at home, by making one at you.

I, of my "Spenser" quite bereft, last winter sore was shaken;
Of "Lamb" I've but a quarter left, nor could I save my "Bacon ;"
And then I saw my "Crabbe," at last, like Hamlet, backward go;
And as the tide was ebbing fast, of course I lost my
"Rowe."

My "Mallet" served to knock me down, which makes me thus a talker ;
And once, when I was out of town, my "Johnson" proved a
"Walker."
While studying, o'er the fire, one day, my "Hobbes" amidst the smoke,
They bore my "Colman" clean away, and carried off my "Coke."

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They pick'd my Locke," to me far more than Bramah's patent worth,
And now my losses I deplore, without a "Home" on earth.

If once a book you let them lift, another they conceal,

For though I caught them stealing "Swift," as quickly went my "Steele."

"Hope" is not now upon my shelf, where late he stood elated;
But what is strange, my "Pope" himself is excommunicated.
My little "Suckling" in the grave is sunk to swell the ravage;
And what was Crusoe's fate to save, 'twas mine to lose,—a

"Savage."

Even "Glover's" works I cannot put my frozen hands upon;
Though ever since I lost my "Foote," my "Bunyan" has been gone.
My "Hoyle" with "Cotton" went oppress'd; my "Taylor" too, must fail ;
To save my
"Goldsmith" from arrest, in vain I offer'd “ 'Bayle."

I "Prior" sought, but could not see the "Hood" so late in front ;
And when I turned to hunt for "Lee," oh! where was my "Leigh Hunt?"
I tried to laugh, old care to tickle, yet could not “Tickle" touch;
And then, alack! I missed my "Mickle”—and surely Mickle's much.

'Tis quite enough my griefs to feed, my sorrows to excuse,

To think I cannot read my "Reid," nor even use my "Hughes ;"
My classics would not quiet lie, a thing so fondly hoped ;
Like Dr. Primrose, I may cry, my "Livy" has eloped.

My life is ebbing fast away; I suffer from these shocks,
And though I fixed a lock on "Gray," there's gray upon my locks ;
I'm far from "Young," am growing pale, I see my "Butler” fly ;
And when they ask about my ail, 'tis "Burton," I reply.

They still have made me slight returns, and thus my griefs divide :
For oh! they cured me of my "Burns," and eased my "Akenside."
But all I think I shall not say, nor let my anger burn,