To readers disliking any other preamble to poetry than a glass or two of wine, I confess a fellow-feeling;-let them and me always pass on to the text. "Boire comme un Templier," is, indeed, a French proverb still in use. It was invented 500 years ago; and might then have served as a goodly preface, when hunting, gallantry, and the pleasures of the table, were the fashionable amusements of the Knights Templars. But "Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis." Our modern student is remarkably abstemious; and, in order to dissi

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pate the gloomy prejudices that may cloud his censorian sensorium, or incite him to the exercise of severe animadversion upon the appearance of such a publication as this, I would have him, in moderation, "make haste to taste the generous wine," ere he unbend his sober brow over my production.

To such of my readers as are in their habits formal-I offer what will alone prove satisfactory-a regular INTRODUCTION-in the words and figures following (that is to say):

Left in my little cage (up three pair), like a lonely bird at the top of a tree, I found myself in the last long vacation with my usual stock of buoyant spirits. These, whenever I balance accounts, generally kick the beam, although my money, or a more or less weighty article, be placed in the opposite scale. Prudence