g
of to-morrow." My aunt wanted but little excitement to accede to the
request, and that little was much exceeded in the promise of Horatio's
reading Bernard's new work on the succeeding evening, when she had
calculated on being left in solitary singleness by her nephew's visit to
the county ball. "You must know, aunt," said Horatio, "that it has been
a custom, from time immemorial at Eton, for every scholar to write a
farewell ode on his leaving, which is presented to the head master, and
is called a Vale; in addition, some of the most distinguished characters
employ first-rate artists to paint their portraits, which, as a tribute
of respect, they present to the principal. Dr. Barnard had nearly a
hundred of these grateful faces hanging in his sanctum sanctorum,
and the present master bids fair to rival his learned and respected
predecessor. ~107~~ My friend's Vale, like every other production of
his pen, is marked by the distinguishing characteristic eccentricity of
his mind. The idea, I suspect, was suggested by the Earl of Carlisle's
elegant verses, to which he has previously alluded; you will perceive
he has again touched upon the peculiarities of his associates, the
_dramatis persono_ of 'the English Spy,' and endeavoured, in prophetic
verse, to unfold the secrets of futurity, as it relates to their
dispositions, prospects, and pursuits in life."

[Illustration: page107]

MY VALE.

In infancy oft' by observance we trace
What life's future page may unfold;
Who the senate, the bar, or the pulpit may grace,

Who'll obtain wreathe of fame or of gold.
My Vale, should my muse prove but willing and free,

Parting sorrows to chase from my brain,
Shall in metre prophetic, on some two or three,

Indulge in her whimsical vein.
First Keate let me give to thy talents and worth,

A tribute that all will approve;
When Atropos shall sever thy life's thread on earth

Thou shalt fall rich in honor and love.
Revered as respected thy memory last,

~108~~

Long, long, as Etona is known,
Engraved on the hearts of thy scholars, the blast

Of detraction ne'er sully thy stone.
Others too I could name and as worthy of note,

But my Vale 'twould too lengthy extend:
Sage _Domine_ all,--all deserving my vote,
Who the tutor