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I wish to congratulate the officers, and corps generally, on the fresh vigour displayed this term; we may look back to it as one of good and profitable work, though drills may yet be more fully attended. In conclusion I urge those who wish to distinguish themselves at shooting to work hard at position drill in the holidays, getting hold of a rifle if possible; and to make up their minds to do their very best next term. This is probably the last year of the Snider in the Shield Competition.

Natural History Society.

G.W.R.

It will be remembered by a good many that last Autumn Dr. F. Fergus, of Glasgow, who has devoted much of his attention to the study of the eye, ren dered valuable assistance to Mr. Preston in reporting on the eye-sight of the school. He supplemented his kind help then by offering to write a paper on "the eye" and, as he was unable to be present himself, his uncle, our Dr. Fergus, was good enough to read it for him. The subject is naturally a very hard one to treat popularly; and those who in the course of their science work have had occasion to study "Light" must have felt themselves on higher ground than their less fortunate friends. However, much that would have been unintelligible to a layman was brought well in reach by a large number of diagrams, some prepared by the writer of the paper, and some by the reader, many years ago, when he used to lecture here on scientific subjects. As Mr. Durrant observed in offering Dr. Fergus our thanks, some would carry away more, and some less, of what they had heard at any rate for all, the terms long and short sight, and colour-blindness would cease to be terms and nothing more. After the paper, some bright yellow and red lights were produced to illustrate what had been said of colour-blindness.

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Present, members 21. School 20. Visitors 12. Total 63.

Art Society.

The last meeting of the Art Society had unfortunately to be postponed. At the last moment Mr. Image, who was to have real a paper, wrote to say that he was unable to come. It was too late to arrange another meeting this term, owing to the many other engagements which take up all the available times during the final week. Mr. Image will give his paper next term instead and all this term's members will have the right of attending. One or two prizes for holiday work will be given at the first meeting next term if there is competition enough, in quantity and quality, to justify the award. Several lectures have already been promised for next term; among them may be mentioned one from G. W. Rundall, Esq., on "Feudal Castles," one from A. C. Champneys, Esq., on some subject connected with Early English Literature, and one from A. D. Innes, Esq., (O.M.) on American Novelists, with readings. It is hoped there will also be room for one paper from some member of the school.

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SOLO SINGING COMPETITION, 1884.

The office of judge for the Solo Competition was undertaken this year by our neighbour, the Rev. A. G. Bleeck. The task, never at any time an easy one, proved this time unusually difficult. In making his award Mr. Bleeck remarked that of the broken voices there were four who might be covered with a handkerchief. Buchanan and Elles had the advantage of sweeter voices, but taking all the merits of the performance together, he adjudged the prize to Harvey, who sang with great spirit and declamatory power. There was a fourth who would have pressed even harder upon the heels of these, had he not been marred by nervousness. (The judge did not name this fourth competitor, doubtless inspired by the kindly thought that each defeated candidate might now console himself with the reflection that he too came near to winning the prize). Of the unbroken voices Mr. Bleeck placed Olivier first, but wished there were another prize to give to Ainslie, for his excellent rendering of a more difficult piece; by the permission of the Master, the two were bracketed, and thus Harvey, Olivier and Ainslie were the prizewinners.

J. M. Harvey had chosen his song with judgment; Elliott's "Hybrias the Cretan" requires

PRICE 3d.

vigour and abandon rather than finish of execution, and a loud song certainly tells better than a soft in the Upper School. The singer caught the true spirit of the song and let it have the full power of his lungs; though the runs were somewhat slurred he went at them with a will, and he brought out some telling deep-chested notes. Buchanan's song was pleasant in effect, but we thought he chiefly failed in sustaining power, as though either the sight of the audience or the size of the room took away his breath; his song was a well-known one of Sullivan's, "A weary lot is thine." Elles chose Sullivan also, and sang his "Once again" in a style showing as much comparative cultivation as Harvey showed vigour. Our vocalists have so few opportunities for studying how to "phrase" their songs, a thing which can only be learnt by close attention to the manner of perfectly trained singers -that anything like good phrasing is always pleasant to note. Of the rest, Ferguson-Davie, in an old-fashioned but once very popular song of Callcott's, "Friend of the Brave," sang well up to his powers, being especially good in the long runs, which were given clearly and distinctly. W. F. Cholmeley struggled with a very hard song (Salaman's "I arise from dreams of thee") but

failed to keep strictly in tune. S. J. Mavrogordato attempted Schubert's "Wanderer," a song requiring great compass of voice and much greater powers of expression than the singer appeared willing to put forth. It seemed to us that he did not do himself justice.

Among the unbroken voices, Olivier (alto) sang a pretty but somewhat conventional song of Wrighton's, "Shylie Bawn." Though the singer had not perfect command of his voice through all his register, his intonation was generally clear and good, and the effect of his song was very taking. Ainslie (alto)

sang his song, Cruickshank's "Three Fishers," in a very correct but slightly perfunctory manner; his voice is sweet though at present wanting in power, but his singing certainly showed musical taste and cultivation. Not far behind these we should have placed Dobie. Although nature has not blessed him with great sweetness of voice, yet his singing of the thrice-repeated refrain in Taubert's lovely song "In a Distant Land" was one of the best musical performances of the evening; although high, it was perfectly true, clear, and each time more piano. Aglen (Bracken's "Ask me no more") would probably have been heard to much greater advantage in a smaller room; his very dramatic song was attempted in an ambitious spirit, but it failed to fill Upper School. The others-Money (Austin's "Maiden and the Weathercock,") Burnaby (White's "Ye Cupids droop each little head") and Boyson (Ridgway's "Grandfather ")—do not call for much comment. Burnaby was perhaps the best, but was indistinctly heard from his position; Boyson has a small and moderately sweet voice: Money brought out one good high note, but did not make much impression with the rest of his song, being also rather flat in places.

The solo singing was enlivened by interpolations of part-songs and instrumental music. Both the winning glees were given by the House successful in glee-competition-an innovation not altogether happy, as the "five" certainly sounded thin. The choir performed two part-songs, of which one (Cowen's "Bee and the Dove") was very bright and effective, the other somewhat shaky. Mr. Bambridge played a pianoforte solo from Chopin with skill and feeling -ça va sans dire-and followed it with variations on "Home sweet Home." He also played a duett with

Herr Müller, for pianoforte and violin. Lastly, the Brass Band opened the evening's proceedings and closed them with two capital performances. The vociferous encore which saluted them at the close of the opening piece was a thoroughly well-earned tribute to the energy and skill, as well as to the popularity, of the performers. There are indeed few members of the school who will not testify to the zeal with which the Brass Band pursues its labours, or who can deny that it has become one of the most prominent of our school institutions.

In conclusion we beg to endorse the words of thanks which, in bringing the evening to a close, the Master uttered to the judge, Mr. Bambridge, Herr Müller, Band-Master Swain, and the performers themselves.

THOMAS HOOD.

HUMOURISTS are rarely men of feeble health and moderate fortune. Impaired bodily powers and straitened circumstances are generally productive of brooding spirits, whose vision is introverted, whose temper is often soured, and who are in a word illhumoured. To such men Hood presents a striking contrast: his life is one continued antithesis of good humour and bad health; with a light heart he endured a lighter purse and, though physically a far greater sufferer than Pope, no amount of pain or buffeting could sour him.

Hood was born May 23rd, 1799, at London, of Scotch parentage but in all things else a genuine Cockney. His father, a bookseller of the firm Vernor and Hood, was a man of literary taste. His elder brother, father, mother and sister Anne were taken from him very early and very suddenly. On the death of the last named he wrote his poem Death bed.' When his father died, his mother provided for him a good education, and he won a prize for Latin; but after his mother's death he was relegated to an office-stool. Health fortunately for him curtailed his banishment; with a change of air to Scotland came also a change of tastes and pursuits. With a dash of ink in his blood' he wrote for the Dundee periodicals, and though by no means one to overrate his powers or praise their creations, he tells us with pride that his writings were inserted without charge. In 1828, on his return to London, he assisted the Editor of the London Magazine. At

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Among his early contributions to the London are his ballad of Fair Inez' and the poem 'Lycus the Centaur,' the latter written in a galloping metre and popular with Hartley Coleridge. His connexion with John Hamilton Reynolds made this time of his life more happy and he married Reynolds' sister. Mrs. Hood was a cultivated woman and-what must have been a great boon to Hood-one who did not mind laughing at a joke and laughing heartily. Before, however, proceeding further with his life, we must mention the "Odes and Addresses to the People," jointly edited with Reynolds and which Coleridge thought to be worthy of Lamb. Therein are contained numerous pleasantries at the several contemporaries but all excellent fun and written without acrimony. One stanza from the Ode to Mrs. Fry and "her Newgatory teaching" is worth quoting as showing admirable sense combined with wit and homely illustration

"O save the vulgar soul before it's spoiled!

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Set up your mounted sign without the gate; And there inform the mind before 'tis soiled 'Tis sorry writing on a greasy slate. Nay if you would not have your labours foiled Take it inclining toward a virtuous state Not prostrate and laid flat: else, woman meek

The Upright pencil will but hop and shriek."

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Hood found his wit sold better than his wisdom and he became punster at once to please the world and to gain a living. But secretly he published many

beautiful which now form the nucleus of his poems, fame. His marriage, May 5th, 1824, was the precursor of much ill fortune and ill health, and at the age of 46 he finally broke down. But before this in 1826 appeared Whims and Oddities' which was a success. He migrated from London to Winchmore Hill and Lake House. At the latter place he wrote "Tylney Hall," and got hints for his "Haunted House" from the ruins there

"A jolly place said he, in days of old

but something ails it now; the place is curst."

The first number of the Comic Annual appeared Christmas 1830. The Boy depicted on the cover who blew a bubble for each number, blew in all eleven. The fun of the annual was plentiful and secured a first rate circulation amongst all: children of every age were liberally endowed by Hood. Change of air had improved his health, when his fortune 'broke down' and like Scott he set himself to

write up every penny. He therefore went

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abroad 1834 and the Comic Annual and author nearly perished in a storm. It was' he says 'a squeak for the Comic.' He found German doctors unpleasant and German life not SO cheap as he imagined, still he wrote. But conscious how much he had lost by leaving English air he returned. His literary career was now more brilliant. In 1843 in Punch appeared the "Song of the shirt," and on the 1st January, 1844, appeared Hood's Own, but the proprietor of the magazine could not make it pay from want of capital. Dark shadows were settling round him, yet his stream of poetry became even more noble. The Haunted House,' 'Lady's Dream,' and 'Bridge of Sighs,' were all written now. But at the last Christmas he spent his sprightliness fled. Spring came, but went not before Hood was layed to rest May 3rd, 1845.

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Some of his sayings about himself are the best comment on his life. He speaks of the nine muses dwelling together in one house for cheapness, and his perhaps was the one house. In another place he says that he lived to be a lively Hood for a livelihood. 'Who,' he asks,' would think of such a creaking, croaking, blood-spitting wretch being the comic.' In his sadness there is an undercurrent of mirth, and in his mirth of sadness and pathos, pathos sudden and unlooked for, as in the lines:

I remember, I remember

The fir trees dark and high;

I used to think those slender tops
Were close against the sky.

It was a childish ignorance
But now 'tis little joy

To know I'm farther off from heaven

Than when I was a boy.

He never trespasses on forbidden ground, never makes fun out of others' miseries, never scoffs at inferiors, never rages at superiors.

Much of Hood's wit is lost to us; much appears purposeless; he is always detecting coincidences, find

ing resemblances and congruities in antitheses. Hood petitioned for copyright and for toleration in religion; the latter in these witty lines::

Mild light and by degrees should be the plan

To cure the dark and erring mind;
But who would rush at a benighted man

And give him two black eyes for being blind.

Nor must we forget his poetry. Some of his lines have a freshness and grace uncommon and precious. The following lines from the 'Plea of the Midsummer Fairies' strike us as exquisite:

And we are near the mother when she sits
Beside her infant in its wicker bed;
And we are in the fairy scene that flits

Across its tender brain: sweet dreams we shed,

And whilst the little tender soul is fled

Away to sport with our young elves, the while
We touch the dimpled cheek with roses red
And tickle the soft lips until they smile

So that their careful parent they beguile.

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Hood's Haunted House' need but be read to be appreciated. It is a perfect picture. The 'Song of the Shirt' yet echoes in good men's minds, the wail of the under-paid and over-worked. It would be interesting to have a Hood now-a-day to write about the poor in London and help the benevolent wishes of those who seek to reform the dwellings and life of the lowest orders. The " Bridge of Sighs" every school boy knows by heart, and is in our opinion the best thing Hood wrote.

Finally Hood is not of commanding intellectual ability. He is not statuesque, not cold; he is ever warm and ever on a level with the lowly. Children feel in him one who sympathized and did much for them, and all call him familiarly 'Tom Hood.'

POLYCRATES.

Hark! a cry at fall of even,
Echoing o'er the rugged fells,
Pealing through the groves of Samos,
Startling Naiads from their wells.
Frightened stags upon the mountains
Raise their antlered heads in fear:
While the timid hinds for shelter
Cower in the thickets near.
And the shepherds, home returning
From their toil with weary feet,
Idly wonder, as they listen

To that cry so clear and sweet.
Can it be the virgin goddess,
Artemis, the huntress queen,
On the hills her chace pursuing

With her bow and arrows keen?

Or Apollo, chief of archers,
Lord of Delos" holy shrine,

Chanting hymns and songs triumphant
With his choir, the Muses Nine ?
'Tis a band of wailing maidens
Mourning for their hapless lord,
Whom a Persian satrap murdered,
Caring nought for plighted word.
On the wave-beat shore of Samos
Stands a maiden young and fair,
Weeping for her royal father,
Weeping 'mid her unbound hair.
Softly o'er the sea-girt island
Sweeps the gentle evening breeze,
Lightly waves the maiden's tresses,
Lightly rustles in the trees.

And the shades of night close round her,
As she waileth more and more,

And the cold clear moon looks on her
Wandering on that lonely shore.

ANCIENT JOURNALISM.

C.*

The history of English journalism has yet to be written; perhaps it might be supposed that such a remarkable phenomenon as the newspapers of to-day might have tempted some author to chronicle fully their rise and progress. Certainly such a work would be most interesting, dealing as it would with achievements full of energy and spirit, and with an institution which has had no slight influence upon the development of English liberty. The reason is not far to seek: the press is but of recent origin, and most of its great triumphs have been won too lately, so that it cannot be seen as a whole with any clearness of perspective. In consequence there have only been some slighter sketches of its history, which do not attain any very important results. It is our purpose to give one of these slight sketches of the earlier newspapers the English nation, and to trace their gradual rise from the obscurities of Grub-street to the commanding position which they hold at present. The newspaper of to-day is regarded with a certain awe and reverence. Most people would own the truth of the feeling expressed in Emerson's account of his visit to the Times office : 66 'We walked with some circumspection, as if we were entering a powdermill; but the door was opened by a mild old woman, and by dint of some transmission of cards,

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