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Speak out! and lo! a hush of deepest wonder Shall sink o'er all this many-voiced scene, As when a sudden burst of rattling thunder Shatters the blueness of a sky serene.

32. MY STUDY.* (Henry Kirke White.) [This piece exemplifies the lively tone of humorous description, in the playful mood which authorizes the manner of exaggeration and caricature, guarded against excess.] You bid me, Ned, describe the place Where I, one of the rhyming race, Pursue my studies con amore, And wanton with the Muse in glory. Well, figure to your senses straight, Upon the house's topmost height, A closet just six feet by four, With whitewashed walls and plaster floor, So nobly large, 'tis scarcely able To admit a single chair and table;

And (lest the Muse should die with cold),
A smoky grate my fire to hold,

So wondrous small, 'twould much it pose
To melt the ice-drop on one's nose;
And yet so big, it covers o'er

Full half the spacious room and more.
A window vainly stuffed about,
To keep November's breezes out,
So crazy, that the panes proclaim
That soon they mean to leave the frame.

My furniture I sure may crack-
A broken chair without a back;
A table wanting just two legs,
One end sustained by wooden pegs;
A desk-on that I am not fervent,
The work of, Sir, your humble servant,
(Who, though I say't, am no such fumbler ;)
A glass decanter and a tumbler,
From which my night-parched throat I lave,
Luxurious, with the limpid wave.
A chest of drawers, in antique sections,
And sawed by me in all directions;
So small, Sir, that whoever views 'em
Swears nothing but a doll could use 'em.
To these, if you will add a store
Of oddities upon the floor,
A pair of globes, electric balls,
Scales, quadrants, prisms, and cobblers' awls,
And crowds of books, on rotten shelves,
Octavos, folios, quartos, twelves;

* "A letter, in Hudibrastic verse."

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I think, dear Ned, you curious dog,
You'll have my earthly catalogue.
But stay,-I nearly had left out
My bellows, destitute of snout;
I've such a load of precious ware,
And on the walls,-Good heavens! why there
Of heads, and coins, and silver medals,
And organ works, and broken pedals,
(For I was once a-building music,
Though soon of that employ I grew sick ;)
And skeletons of laws, which shoot
All out of one primordial root;
That you, with such a sight, would swear
Confusion's self had settled there.
There stands, just by a broken sphere,
A Cicero without an ear,

A neck, on which, by logic good,
I know for sure a head once stood;
But who it was the able master
Had moulded in the mimic plaster,
Whether 'twas Pope, or Coke, or Burn,

I never yet could justly learn:

But knowing well, that any head
Is made to answer for the dead,
(And sculptors first their faces frame,
And after pitch upon a name,

Nor think it aught of a misnomer
To christen Chaucer's busto Homer,
Because they both have beards, which, you

Will mark them well from Joan and Juno,)
For some great man, I could not tell
But NECK might answer just as well,
So perched it up, all in a row
With Chatham and with Cicero.

Then all around, in just degree,
A range of portraits you may see
Of mighty men, and eke of women,
Who are no whit inferior to men.
With these fair dames, and heroes round,
I call my garret classic ground;
For though confined, 'twill well contain
The ideal flights of Madame Brain.
No dungeon's walls, no cell confined,
Can cramp the energies of mind!
Thus, though my heart may seem so small,
I've friends, and 'twill contain them all;
And should it e'er become so cold
That these it will no longer hold,
No more may Heaven its blessings give,
I shall not then be fit to live.


I consist of fourteen letters.

My 1, 2, 3, 12, 5, A woman's name. My 2, 12, 3, Used by boaters.

My 3, 6, 8, An intoxicating spirit. My 4, 9, 11, 11, A Swiss archer.


My 5, 9, 12, 4, Sometimes very oppressive.
My 6, A letter of the Alphabet,
My 7, 2, 8, Met with at elections.
My 8, 9, 14, Used by nearly every one.
My 9, 12, 13, Without which we'd ugly be.
My 10, 6, 7, 8, 11, 9, Heard in town or country.
My 11, 12, 4, 5, Used in building houses.
My 12, 13, 4, A small insect.
My 13, 2, 3, 4, 5,
My 14, 12, 17, 3,

A point of the compass.
A bad word.

My whole a country of England famous for its mines.

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"Oh! Mamma-Aunty, dear-quickly come, if
You would see the old Major of the Cliff,
On a rude block, sitting down near our gate-
While pealing away the bells for fair Kate-
Under our wall, where the snap-dragon grows,
Where parings and sweepings Mary oft throws.
John saw him first-coming in from the shed-
From milking-or she had smother'd his head;
Close to the mixen, over our wall.

Come, Mamma-Aunty, dear-see him you shall."

This, bounding in, said three bright, sparkling girls,

With teeth even-row'd as necklets of pearls.

Blending together, their voices were heard
To ring as the notes of a forest-bird:
"What's the grave Major, Ma, doing this while
Near our back-door, by the old faggot-pile ? '
The answer Mamma gave her darlings, complete;
You'll in the Acrostic below surely meet.

1-To keep the mem'ry warm-alive;
2-The last-yes-and the first of five.
3-Learn if you lack it-from the bee,
4-And in Othello look for me.
5-One of the months abbreviated,
6-And what to fill we all are fated.

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COVERS FOR BINDING. CLOTH COVERS for binding the 12 Monthly Parts of "The Boy's Monthly Magazine" are now ready, price is. each.

Messrs. WARD, LOCK & TYLER beg to inform subscribers that they will bind "The Boy's Monthly Magazine" handsomely in cloth at 18. 6d. per volume; gilt edges, 6d. extra.

Subscribers must forward their parts by Bookpost (paid), with the ends of the packet open, at the rate of 1d. for every 4 ounces.

Country subscribers must send 8d. extra for the return of their volumes.


HOLIDAYS! Here is a brave subject for boys-a subject to make the cheeks glow and the heart bound. Away from stool and desk, away from Virgil and Euclid, away from school routine and-"Gentlemen, we will now resume our studies!" Hurrah! for the green fields and the blue waters, for the sheltered woodlands and the breezy common, for the free air and the sunshine. A host of boys answer our call, and tell us, in language that is more or less enthusiastic, what they have done with those precious days or weeks given them for recreation. We take up their papers just as they come, and settle their respective merits in the appended list.


Here's a Manchester boy, who escaped from Cottonopolis, and came to London, and saw St. Paul's, and the Nelson Column, and London Bridge, and the Crystal Palace, and then fled to Paris-the " centre of civilisation," and made the acquaintance of the "Boulevard des Italiens," and got into a cab, the driver of which was shouting, L'Exposition," and was driven through the Place de la Concorde, along the Quai de la Conference, across the Seine by the Pont des Invalides, then along the Quai d'Orsay to the Exhibition building. Paris living does not seem to have suited our Manchester friend. He says: "We were not used to having breakfast at 8 A.M. and dinner at 6 P.M., so by their dinner-time we used to want our tea." Still, living apart, the holidays in Paris were delightful, so much of gaiety and novelty that the eyes begin to ache and the mind tire at the thought

of it.

Here's a voice hailing us from North Devon, not far from the little white town of Bideford. The holiday was spent at Swelton, on the Welsh coast, and the ride thither, via Barnstaple and Ilfracombe, is very prettily described. Arrived at Swelton, how he enjoyed the bathing! "Swimming in summer and skating in winter," he says, "are, in my opinion, the best enjoyments of the year." Up the hill for a look at the surrounding country; then visits to all the notable places; then a rummage amongst the books in the library of the South Wales Institute. Then a party out to collect specimens, botanical and geological, then-but every hour well spent!

Here's a London boy running off to Scarborough, enjoying the ride down amazingly, and passionately charmed by the Queen of Watering Places. He is very lively, and, unused to rustic life, gets into a field where forty cows are grazing; by these he is hotly pursued, and, narrowly escaping, "walked home a wiser mayouth." He tells us of the London barrister asking the countryman, "How go calves at York?"-answer being-" Whoy, not as they do here, but on four legs, instead of two." He visits the Spa, "but not to drink the waters." Next, he roams about the town, and visits the Castle; he is on the beach; he is among the sailors, up in the hills, down in the valleys, knocking about everywhere with a host who was "one of the kindest of men."

Here's another lad who, instead of running away from London, turned his face thitherwards, and was rewarded by seeing the Sultan; then ran over to Paris and "L'Exposition," and had good times of it. Here's another who spent his holidays in the Highlands; another who was alone all the time, "afloat"; another who visited Snowdon; another who fell ill, and spent, poor fellow, his fortnight in bed. Here's another who went to Keighley, a small town near Bradford, and who was much pleased as he "whirled from Sheffield through a valley of fire." Another has been to Weymouth, and furnishes a minutely

interesting account of the pleasure the trip afforded. The essayists are naturally enough enthusiastic about holidays, and they tell their different stories very naturally, and in good taste. They cannot all have the prize, and the decision appended is the best we can make :

Arthur William Jakeman, aged 17 and 10 months, Grimsbury, Banbury, Oxon.

James Clapp, aged 16, Shebbear, Devon. Henry Cubbidge, Beresford-street, Walworth London.

Thomas M. Gribbin, 108, Mill-street, Ancoats, Manchester.

Philip Smith, aged 17, Magnetic Telegraph Office, Swansea.

Thomas Wilkins, Vincent-street, Leamington, Warwickshire.

George W. Browne, aged 14, Cadogan-street, Glasgow.

Robert Cochrane, aged 17, Bristo-street, Edinburgh.

C. J. Cooper, aged 17, Clifton, Bristol.
G. A. Seed, aged 14, Steel-bank, Sheffield.
T. R. Filgate, aged 13, Cristowe, Cheltenham.
J. W. Mackie, aged 15, Ayr, N.B.
J. J. Davis, Newport, Mon.

THE TRUE HISTORY OF GUY FAWKES. TWELVE Essays have reached us on this subject. Most of them are well-written; the best, by Robert K. Dent, appears in this number of our Magazine.

The second best is by Richard Battersby; it is comprehensive and circumstantial.

The next best essay is by James Ogden. A remark in his letter is well worth the attention of all competitors. He says:-"I can assure you that if I do not obtain the first mark, which is very likely, I shall be greatly benefited by the hours of research I have spent in seeking the little information contributed. With the looking, reading, and writing, I should now be able to reproduce nearly all I have written in this essay from memory, and I hope it may be of use to me in after-life."

George L. Miller has done well; his essay, so far as it goes, is very creditable.

Joseph Hammond is impartial, and writes very well.

William Harber's essay is brief, but very complete.

The comparative merit of the rest of the competitors is marked by their place in our list of


Robert Kirkup Dent, aged 16, Baker-street, Small-heath, Birmingham.

Richard Battersby, aged 16, 10, Devon-street, Liverpool.

James Ogden, aged 16, 2, Phoenix-street, Fold's-road, Little Bolton, Lancashire.

George L. Miller, aged 14, Everton, Liverpool.

Joseph Hammond, aged 16, High-st., Gosport. Wm. Barber, aged 15, Moseley-road, Birmingham.

Philip Smith, Magnetic Telegraph Office, Swansea.

Frederick Monk, aged 13 and 9 months, Gosport.

W. Somerset, aged 12, Islington-square, Salford.

A. Antill, aged 14, Shepherdess-walk, Cityroad, London.

W. B. Reckett, aged 16, Macclesfield.
William James Stead, Leeds, Yorkshire.
W. F. Sincock,




Author of "Stories of the War," "Crimson Pages," "Shot and Shell," "London Stone," etc., etc.





St. James's.

ESCENDING with hasty step the oaken stair, Sir Michael de la Pole strode into the great hall, the strong doors of which had been already closed, and the portcullis lowered. A motley group had there assembled, consisting chiefly of the household, who, with consternation and affright, armed themselves with the first defensive armour or offensive weapons they could collect from the armouries, and those which hung around the vast and spacious vestibule.


A score of men had there assembled, yet withal they made a sorry array, ill-used as they were to stately panoply, and wearing, with an ill grace, the chain and plated mail; whilst the few Spaniards who still remained with Michael, exerted all the energy they possessed in attempting to reduce to something more like order and military discipline, the ill-organized band of men on whom all hopes of safety now depended.

Striding to the centre of this great hall, Michael de la Pole addressed his men :"What means this strange confusion ?" he said. "What mean these looks of


terror and anxious whispers ? Doth any nearer, stretching out in the shimmering one among ye fear to defend his lord? moonlight, the vast plain of the BlackBy our Lady, if 'tis even so, let him declare heath might have been seen, on which a it, depart from hence, and swell the num-large encampment had been stretched for bers of those who thirst, e'en now, for my the pageant, and on which a body of menblood. Fear not to declare yourselves-at-arms had assembled. Watch-fires had ye shall depart. Speak-who among ye there been made, around which the men is the traitor that hath brought these collected, and on whose steel coats and men against me?" caps the ruddy light played merrily.

The shouts without grew louder while he spoke, and the voice of Nicholas Denis might be heard, demanding admission in the King's name.

On the other hand, and nearer to Woolewyche, arose the eminence of Shooter's Hill, with a fiery beacon on its summit. At intervals, too, the winding river might

"Who "-continued Michael "who have been observed-and, far away in the amongst ye hath betrayed me ?" distance, the dark mass of building which formed the ancient city.

In answer to this the throng of servingmen raised a loud shout of "A Michael -a Michael!" and continued it lustily. "Thanks!" cried Michael, in reply. "Thanks! For now may I rely upon your courage and fidelity. Now may I rely upon your trusty puissance. That lusty shout was warranty eno'."

Halberds and partizans clashed together, and another shout was raised, mingling with the confusion of sounds reigning without, whilst again and again the demand for admission was repeated in King Henry's name.

“Follow, my men," cried Michael. “Follow me to the roof of the donjon, and let us see the evil, that we may understand how to avoid its danger." He then led the way, not up the chief and broad staircase, but by a private winding stair, which led to the platform forming the roof of the high and ancient donjon.

The scene which presented itself to the view of Michael and his companions was indeed curious. Raised at an altitude much above the surrounding buildings, a prospect of many miles lay before them, illuminated by the fitful light of the moon.

The high road, with its double range of tall and stately trees, led direct to Placentia, whose towers, battlemented and sculptured, might be clearly seen, not by the lunar beams, but by the pageantry at that time proceeding at Greenwyche. Various coloured fires dashed up into the air, and fell, in myriads of sparkling stars, to the place from which they arose. Still

In the court-yard of Wansted Hall a body of men-at-arms, consisting chiefly of hackbutt and rifle men, led on by Nicholas Denis, were marshalled in hostile array; while the sergeant-at-arms called loudly for admission, and the surrender of Michael de la Pole.

Advancing hastily to the very copingstones of the building, Michael called loudly to those below

"How now, knaves-base varlets! What doth this armed array and violent manner signify ?-who hath dared to impeach Michael de la Pole? Who, to his face, would call him traitor? Back, hounds! to those who sent ye, and bear them my defiance."

Heedless of his words, Nicholas Denis again demanded entrance, and when, in terms of scorn, it was refused, he bid his men dash down the doors, and force themselves a way. In obedience to this order, axes and hammers rang heavily on the oaken and iron-lined panels, threatening their instant downfall. Bills and blades flashed in the ruddy light, and the noise and confusion grew louder and more loud.

"Hurl down the coping-stones upon the heads of these unruly clowns, who cast dishonour on the arms they bear!” cried Michael, furiously. And, in obedience to his command, the men fell rapidly to work; in a few moments they had released the ponderous stones from their places, when a loud blast from the trumpets in the courtyard stayed for a moment their labour.

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