CONTENTS OF THE THIRD PART Reminiscences of a Medical Student. No. VIII., Leah Meriel-No. The Five Incumbents. By the Author of "Peter Priggins." No. II., 95, 192, 327, 507 An Hour at Mass (stanzas). By a Medical Student The First of September; or, a Day's Partridge Shooting. By Ornither Phineas Quiddy; or, Sheer Industry (continued). By John Poole, Esq., Some Account of the Macaronic Poets of England and Scotland. Chap. II. References for further information-William Meston, of Aber- A Glance at Gower and "the Gowerians." By D. T. Evans, Esq. The Persian Banditti. By the Hon. Charles Stuart Savile 431 131 to 144 (for OCTOBER): Shakspeare. Edited by C. Knight, Esq.-The Czarina. By Mrs. Hofland 269 to 279 (for NOVEMBER): Narrative of the Expedition (for DECEMBER): Historical Memoirs of the Queens of France. By Mrs. Forbes Bush.-Russia and the Russians in 1842. By J. G. Kohl, Esq.-The Naval Club; or, Remi- niscences of Service. By M. H. Barker, Esq. ("The Old Sailor"). 3 vols.-The Literary Ladies of England; from the commencement of the last century to the present time. By Mrs. Elwood, author of "An Overland Journey to India." 2 vols.-Heath's Book of Beauty for 1842. Edited by the Countess of Blessington.-Phineas Quiddy.- No breeze there was to stir the leaves; No gale to bend the branch; No quake of earth to heave the roots, That stood so stiff and staunch. Sept.-VOL. LXVI. NO. CCLXI. B No bird was preening up aloft, No squirrel, in its sport or fear, Had ne'er a hole To hide a living thing! No scooping hollow cell to lodge The martin, bat, Or forest cat That nightly loves to prowl, Nor ivy nook so apt to shroud The moping, snoring owl. But still the sound was in my ear, A sad and solemn sound, That sometimes murmur'd overhead, And sometimes underground'Twas in a shady Avenue Where lofty Elms abound. O hath the Dryad still a tongue The olden time is dead and gone; No classic whispers come. From Poplar, Pine, and drooping Birch, And fragrant Linden Trees; No living sound E'er hovers round, Unless the vagrant breeze, The music of the merry bird, Or hum of busy bees. |