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large majority of most unmitigated lands- It is Sunday morning, and our little

schooner is one of a fleet of eighty sail in A man may acquire a taste for hunting or Cowes Roads, with the broad pendant of shooting, or the turf; he may become a tol- that gallant old Commodore and prince of erable rider, or a decent shot; but if he yachtsmen, Lord Yarborough, in the midst. takes to yachting, the heart and the stomach There, too, is the Commodore of the for the sport must be born with him. A " Thames,” in his trim little twenty-five ton yacht is either, like any other vessel, a cutter ready to blow you out of the water prison with the chance of being drowned, or with a salute from his plucky two-pounders. it is the palace of a poet. You must have What a spectacle for a foreigner who is a horror of a yacht (as most wives have, by studying the secret of "naval supremacy !” the by), or you must love her “like a Here are the finest craft in the world, manned

Go down to Cowes or Ryde the by something like a thousand picked seafirst week in August, and you will find the men. The Commodore's flag-ship, the Kesgentlemen who live afloat at ease, a capital trel, is a private man-of-war, as trim, as representative body of the British and, we smart, as clean as a frigate. The old lord may add, of the Irish race. There is the who attended the battle of Navarino in his duke of half a dozen counties, the tired own ship, the Falcon, surveys his squadron statesman, the great city merchant or with honest pride. The boatswain's pipe is banker, the successful tradesman, the engi- busy in the Kestrel, and the signal midshipneer, the country squire, the clergyman, the man has no sinecure. The Commodore lawyer, the soldier, and the naral man, who," makes” eight o'clock, and up go all the like the actor who always goes to the play ensigns and burgees; at church time up goes when he is not acting himself, goes a-yacht- the church pendant to the peak ; twelve ing while he is waiting for a ship. In that o'clock is “made," and so is sunset. How little Thames cutter there is a theatrical splendidly those gigs' crews "give way” to manager who spends his leisure moments on the Club-house steps! There the talk is all board in making up his play-bills for a huge of next week's matches, and of the squadron public. Each transpontine club has its own which is to go down Channel on the day rendezvous ; but all these yachtsmen belong after the squadron ball, under the Commoto a national volunteer service, and in that dore's orders. Ah! the blue and breezy pleasure navy there is a real esprit de corps. sky, and the fresh sunshine ! Twenty-two No class or order of men contains a larger yachts were we, as we took station accordnumber of " eccentricities," and nowhere is ing to tonnage and tacked in succession bea fairer field for eccentricity to be found. fore the Commodore. Just as we clear the This characteristic of yachting breaks out in roads, fourteen sail of the “ Thames” miniaall manner of shapes and forms: sometimes ture squadron appear in line and exchange in the costume, half naval, half piratical, of salutes. And now we are away through the the owner and his crew; sometimes in the Needles passage. Presently the Commodore discipline and trim of the craft. The ladies, signals us to “make all sail without regard who constitute an important and delightful to stations,” and the longest legs make the section of the yachting world, enter eagerly shortest miles of it. Before sunset we are into the spirit of these eccentricities, and all becalmed, but before we come on deck adopt the fashion of the craft to which they from dinner we are rushing through the waare attached with enthusiasm. Indeed, on ter with a spanking breeze on our quarter. these pleasant shores of the gentle Solent Night brings thunder and lightning and a all the conventionalities of dress and de- gale, and when the morning breaks we are meanor are willingly, and as if by common beating into Weymouth with two reefs clown. consent, thrown aside for a season by “all What a merry reckless company we are on bands," and the result is wonderfully pictur- board, giving to storm and calm alike “a esque and refreshing after the faded and frolic welcome,” and resolved to be jolly unfactitious society of the London season. der all changes of wind and weather! It is

As we write a past generation of yachts- a lovely dawn when we come to an anchor in men and women comes sailing up the silent Torbay with all our consorts once more in sea of memory!

company. That was the last squadron the

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good Lord Yarborough was destined to com-wave-line of bow has taught us how a vessel mand. Before another summer came round, may be fast and dry, neither sacrificing speed our much-loved Commodore had gone aloft! to comfort, nor comfort to speed. Another

Of course, we cannot admit that there are change for the better is in the trim of racing such yachts or yachting-men in these degen- yachts. Some years ago, the yachts that erate times. The best“ eleven" and the best won the prizes were good for nothing else ;

eight” are alwa the “ eleven” and the now the racing craft are often admirable sea“eight” of our own Eton days. Certainly boats. Now-a-days, too, the silly practice in the far time we are recalling, not without of “ carrying on is given up, and the ada pang, yachting was in all its glory. Only rantage of sailing as much as possible on an remember that match round the island in even keel is better understood. The dice which two schooners were dismasted! And question of measurement, if not quite equitathe match between the Corsair and another | bly solved, is not so prone to abuse as it was cutter (whose name we have forgotten) round formerly. Throughout all these changes it is the Eddystone in half a gale of wind ! When curious and interesting to find that the old those two cutters returned through the Nee- Arrow and the old Alarm (transformed into dles, they were so close together that the a schooner) have scarcely yet found their Corsair won by four minutes and a half. equals in a long day's contest. The introAnd what " characters we had among us duction of steam-yachts is, we humbly conin those days! There was a famous cutter fess, a novelty we cannot find it in our hearts whose owner " and commander,” as he in- to approve. Screw engines cost too much, sisted on being called, was a perfect martyr and take up too much space, to be compatito man-of-war principles. He carried able with any but the largest yachts and the brass band which was the terror of the Chan- richest owners and steam appears to us nel, and his boatswain piped like an omni- essentially repugnant to the genius of yachtbus conductor. One day he invited a party ing — to the noble independence of all reto divine service on board, which he read straints of time which becomes a yachtshimself with one eye fixed on the church flag man. Before many years have come and at the peak. To set this flag, the mainsail gone, it may be that the British navy will had been expressly hoisted—in harbor-and consist of enormous iron barges, studded while we were all praying, a sudden squall with cupola towers, and of Noah's arks with sent down the mainsail by the run, and we steel fixings. Only at the yachting stations are sorry to say that those who came to pray will the tapering spars and the snowy wings remained to scream with laughter, and morn- of the skimmers of the seas be found. We ing service ended abruptly with some very deroutly hope that it may be reserved for strong language from the officiating minis- our posterity to witness this hideous converter. Are there any such “characters ”sion of the British navy into iron-clasped now ?

safes and batteries. Let our yachtsmen, at Yachts and yachting, like the navy, have all events, be content with spars and sails, undergone a revolution since those days. remembering that even men-of-war are forThe America taught a trick or two to build- bidden to “ down screw as long as they can ers, and since her victories schooners have "up stick.” almost superseded cutters, and the long

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TURNER says (vol. 1, p. 311), “there can be A clear inference drawn from Cæsar, that no doubt that the majority of the British popu- the Britons knew the use of letters, -else why lation was preserved to be useful to their con- should the Druids have forbidden their doctrines querors.” I think the total change of language to be writton,—but because they were like their disproves this; and that the nature and length worthy successors, the Romish priests, desirous of the contest also show that the separation was of concealing the records which might be examalmost complete. No doubt they preserved the ined to their prejudice.--Script. Rev. Hibern, p. slaves, who would mostly be of their own stock. 1, Proleg. xxx. -Southey.

From The Spectator. degenerate men who have gradually declined BODLEY'S LIBRARY AND ITS TREAS

from lofty folios to tiny duodecimos; from URES.*

Ockham and Thomas Aquinas to the last THE Reading-room of the British Mu- shilling volume of the Parlor Library. Here seum, with its magnificent dome, its blue may the reader bury himself for hours with and gilt spandrils, its books in the newest no visions of petticoats ; no vanities of this of bindings, its easy lounges and capacious day, not even of “Vanity Fair.” He may desks, is a sight worthy of the metropolis. dine with Duke Humphrey; he may realize Ladies in crinoline and fashionable bonnets, to himself an age when learning condegentlemen in wide-awakes, pork-pies, and scended to nothing short of a folio ; when unimpeachable tweeds, sit down to the lit- stout hearts beat high beneath black gowns ; erary fare, provided for them by the munifi- when trencher-caps shook with agitation at cence of the trustees, with as much ease and the serried · logic of rival Nominalists and comfort as in their clubs or their drawing- Realists, and the glory of a University was rooms. Learning is stripped of its rust and imperilled in a Syllogism. Or, to descend repulsiveness. It has put on the gayest of still lower, here, without effort, may he garbs. It needs no apologist for its want transfer himself to the times when the latest of politeness. And if Plato could come new sensation book upon Philosophy was upon earth again, he would no longer have the Novum Organon of Bacon, and doctors to apologize for the manners of the learned turned pale over the heretical audacity of a -so far, at least, as the Reading-room of Lord Chancellor, who had taken Plato and the British Museum may be considered as Aristotle to task, and stigmatized the wise the type of modern scholarship-by saying dictators of antiquity as ricketty children, that scholars were like “the gallypots of competent to nothing else than blare and apothecaries, which, on the outside had apes babble. What feet have ever trodden the and owls and antiques, but contained within Reading-room of the British Museum exsovereign and precious liquors and confec- cept penny-a-liners, foreign correspondents Lions.” It is a sign of the times when it is of the daily press, or young gentlemen inno longer necessary for the votary of sci- tent on cribs? Even Lord Macaulay died ence to bid farewell to the world and shut some years too soon for his own reputation himself up in seclusion, when a life of activ- and Mr. Panizzi's masterpiece. No Seldon, ity is not incompatible with learning, and no Laud, no Milton, no Cromwell, Owen, Mr. Monckton Milnes is in no fear, like his Clarendon, Dryden, Pope, Bolingbroke or predecessor Gascoigne, of having his return burly Johnson, or quaint Charles Lamb, to petitioned against in the House of Commons, say nothing of earlier worthies,Hooker, on the bare fact of his being a poet. All or Ben Jonson, or Burton, have cast their this is very well. Let the applause of Mr. shadows over the spick and span new paint Panizzi, the trustees, and their Reading- and gilding of the Metropolitan Readingroom reach to the highest hònors this gen- room. By no effort of imagination can its eration can bestow; let it ring from spotless visitors repeople the Reading-room of the lemon kid gloves, perfumed with the choicest British Museum, as we can hardly avoid doof Rimmel's toilet vinegar.

ing Bodley, with the glories of the past. Its But old and mighty Bodley is old and brilliancy, whatever it may be, is of the fumighty still : unchanged and unchangeable ; ture exclusively. It belongs to the generaand long may.it continue so! Murky in its tion of railways and locomotives, of competiantiquity, redolent of old bindings, “ fra- tive examinations, and fast trains. grant with moth-scented coverings !” No Bodley and its treasures.

Once a year the morocco, red, citron, or green, later than the delegates of the library march round in soldays of the historian De Thou, profanes with emn train, as they have done since the days flaunting colors the sober calf-skins which, of the first Stuarts, with vice chancellor, more venerable than Nestor, have reigned beadles, and silver maces, to survey the supreme over three centuries of learning, shelves and their sacred treasures. No proand look down with dignified contempt upon fane bookbinder violates the sanctity of that

* Hackman's Catalogue of the Jenner MSS. in repose, Heaven be praised, or intrudes his the Bodleian. Clarendon Press.

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the sober decorum of Bodley. Only within its founder, to the present century, from the comparatively recent period have the chains days when Queen Elizabeth, in ruff and farbeen removed which locked its books to- thingale, with Burghley and Walsingham at gether in the close and loving embrace of a her side, harangued the doctors and Heads Macedonian phalanx, and nearly proved fa- of Houses in well-poised Latin, to the time tal to an ambitious author who, Icarus-like, when the Allied Sovereigns celebrated the soared too high, and hung himself in their advent of peace within its walls, or Queen iron tendrils. Still more recently has hot air Victoria inscribed her name among its manbeen introduced into one division of the li- uscripts ! And no wonder that its treasures brary for the benefit of luxurious masters of of books, manuscripts, and rarities should arts, who could not keep themselves warm partake of the character of the place and over Duns Scotus or Athanasius, but, in the have a sort of uniqueness and quaint antiqpride of their hearts, descended to the ex- uity about them not found elsewhere. For ternal world, and took to polished leather here, in undisturbed repose, and still better, boots and thin potations. With these ex- fresh and unchanged, as in their primitive ceptions, Bodley was and is what it was in state, are the collections of Dr. Dee, the the days of its founder-goodly to look upon earliest of spirit-rappers, “who did observe as he; at “full solempne man,” who and yrite down at was said by the spirits, thought, if we should “cancel all our theo- Kelley (his assistant magician), seeing and ries, axioms, rules, and tenents," as Bacon interpreting." Here, too, is garnered up all advised, “it would instantly bring us to bar- the correspondence of Hyde, Lord Clarenbarism, and, after many thousand years, don, and the little notes that passed between leave us more unprovided of theorical furni- him and Charles I. in the lobby of the House ture than we are at the present.” Save of Commons during those debates which also, and excepting that ruthless necessity, cost the king his crown. Here, too, in its in the shape of those same masters of arts, bands of red silk, is the correspondence of has marred the quaint device of Sir Thomas the same monarch with his children, when (who wished to preserve the remembrance they had taken refuge in France; and here, of his Christian name T. in the shape of his in sombre winding-sheets of black silk, and library), and, by developing one end of it, seals to match, are the letters that passed have metamorphosed it into an H. But for after Charles' execution. Here are the corthis, the mullioned windows, the fragrant respondence of the parliamentary generals, air from the College gardens, the solemn the papers of the unhappy non-jurors; of pealing of bells they have rung out gener- Archbishop Sancroft, and of Bishop Ken, ations of students, and shall ring in genera- whose name lives forever in the Morning tions of students yet to come-repeat from and Evening Hymn. And here are the dehour to hour, and year to year, the pious tails of the Pretender's doings, and his secret deeds of our English forefathers, and the friends in England, in the reigns of Anne, dim traditions of the past. “Antiquity! George I., and George II. And what else thou wondrous charm, what art thou, that, there may be of curious lore and unrevealed being nothing, art everything? What mys- mysteries in that capacious and undisturbed tery lurks in this retroversion? Or what receptacle of “ Mighty Bodley," who shall half Januses are we that cannot look for- tell us ? ward with the same idolatry with which we Of late some attempt has been made by forever revert? The mighty future is as the authorities of Oxford to sort and tabunothing, being everything! The past is late their treasures; and Mr. Hackman's everything, being nothing !"

catalogue, which we have until this late In these respects the Bodleian Library is period in our article unconsciously omitted unique, not only in England, but in Europe. to notice—rapt in reminiscences of Bodley No library of similar extent possesses the -is partly the result of these new efforts. same conventual character. Paris, Brus- We wish to deal gently with Mr. Hackman's sels, Frankfort, Augsburg, Munich, Valla- labors. His errors of omission and commisdolid, and Madrid have nothing like it. sion in the execution of his task we will not Associated with all the great traditions of censure heavily; for who that has had deal. England, from the age of Duke Humphrey, I ings with manuscripts does not know how inevitably, spite of all vigilance and pre- ters, printing the former in the body of the cautions, all sorts of errors will creep in ? work, and the latter in the index. So for But Mr. Hackman's notions of a catalogue, every entry the reader has to turn backwards and of the requirements of those who are and forwards, and incur at each step, as Mr. likely to consult one, seem to us more Hackman himself must have done, a needstrange, uncouth, and antiquated than Dr. less amount of double labor. When Mr. Dee's spirit-rapping, or a non-juror's advo- Hackman goes home, we suppose that he cacy of the claims of the Pretender. If Mr. despises the door of his chambers in Christ Hackman had spent his academical life in Church, and gets in at the windows. We trying to produce a catalogue as unlike in look for better things under the librarianits plan to any now in existence, and as re- ship of Mr. Coxe, for we shall expect a more pulsire and inconvenient in the using as complete analysis of papers to be catalogued, possible, he could not have succeeded bet- a more intelligible order, a more thorough ter. The index to his book is considerably knowledge of the wants of modern students; larger than the book itself; and to use it, in short, catalogues as unlike Mr. Hackman's, the student must take learning by the tail, in all these respects, as Mr. Hackman's laand proceed rearwards like an irritated crab. bors are unlike the labors of his predecessors Mr. Hackman (ominous name !) separates and contemporaries. the addresses from the substance of the let

THE LAST OF THE BYRONS.—The dulness THERE were some Nanneries founded by of London at this season of the year has been some of our forefathers, wherein it was appointrelieved for the day by a strange glimpse into ed that some should be taught the knowledge of the romance of the peerage. Last week there the Saxon tongue, on parpose to preserve it, died at Brighton, at the carly age of twenty-seven, and transmit it to posterity by communicating Byron Noel, Baron of Ockham and Wentworth. it down from one to another. Such was the The heir of a large fortune, the grandson and Nunnery at Tavistock and many others which last direct representative of the greatest of Eng- he (Archbishop Parker) could bave named.lish poets, the young peer had—so the world Strype's Parker, p. 536. might have judged - a brilliant career before These foundations must have been made by bim. He was the son of Ada Byron, the poet's Saxons under the Norman kings.-Southey. only daughter, and this is almost all that is known of him positively. For some cause unknown, and only, faintly surmised, the young baron never assamed his rank, never took his

WILLIAM sent Harold's standard to the Pope : seat in the House of Lords, never even made “it was sumptuously embroidered with gold and bis appearance in the fashionable world. precious stones, in the form of a man fighting." Very carly in life he broke off his connection with his family, willingly or not, served on board ship as a common sailor, then supported himself as a hired laborer in a Thames dockyard, and became engaged (if he was not actu- AND so she learned to wander in the woods, ally married) to a barmaid in a sailor's public As if in search, not knowing where she went, house in Wapping. Then, in the first bloom of And she put on a statelier beauty, grew bis young life, he dies suddenly by hemorrhage | More beautiful through sadness, while the years of the lungs, and the court papers mention his Lcd her to womanhood with persuasive hands. existence after years of silence. The last of the Not Aphrodite coming in her shell, Byrons is dead; and the story of the latest de- When those four seasons met her on the shore, scendant of that strange race is buried in the Was lovelier ; being in beauty more divine, grave with him.-London letter.

But missing her sweet grace of humanness.
And she grew up a perfect woman pure,
With passion in her, well subdued to truth;
Saddened at most things as she went by them :

And made the Dryads weep at her sad looks. First Nunnery founded in the seventh cen. And all her heart and being yearned for love. tury by Saint Erkonwald, Bishop of London, a She peeped into the leafy nests of birds, descendant of Offa, at Berking, for his sister and wondered what could make them twit and Saint Ethelberga.

sing.

-Thomas Ashe.

IN THE WOODS.

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