Vol. II.-No. 11.

THE NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY.

It once more falls to our lot to notice in our columns the Report of the M.C.N.H.S. for the last half-year. It is hardly necessary to remind our readers of the rise of this now important element of our society, how it originated in private meetings of a few enthusiastic votaries of Natural History, how it gradually opened itself to other members of the School, and how it succeeded in overcoming the prejudices and obstacles which often opposed it, until last year it seemed to have fairly won a position for itself among the leading features of Marlborough. By this time collections and donations made to the Society had become so numerous that a room was kindly set apart as a Museum, by the College authorities, Now that the Society has by its own unaided efforts gained a position for itself, it is interesting to see whether it still maintains it, and has not abated anything of its energy.

Although in size the Report is somewhat smaller than its predecessor, its contents do not present much variation from those of former years. The papers that have been read are perhaps hardly equal to some that we can recall to mind, but at the same time it is satisfactory to see that the Editors rely more upon themselves than they did formerly, and that only one has been contributed by a master, and another by a kind supporter of the society. The style too has we think gradually improved, becoming

PRICE 3d.

more readable as it is less technical, indeed the only absolutely dry one is that by the Rev. J. Greene : and that has some excuse, as it was intended to be read not to the whole Society but to one of the sections. A novelty in the Report, and one of great interest to everybody, is the Museum Report, drawn up to show what the resources and the wants of the Society are in each particular branch, thus directing the energies of the members to certain particular objects. No one who has paid a visit to the Museum can fail to be struck with its business-like appearance, relieved by the numerous cases of stuffed birds; and now that the deficiencies are made known we have no doubt that many friends of the Society, whether past or present Marlburians, will do their utmost to obviate them.

But by far the most interesting part of the Report is the preface. Although the funds of the Society are in a flourishing state and the numbers of the attendance at the meetings show an increase and not a decrease, the preface opens with an appeal to the Sixth Form for their support. We find on turning to the list of members that one-sixth of the Prefects are connected with the Society. The claims on the time of the Prefects are however very great; besides their work they feel it a duty to take a prominent part in the games of the School; and besides this the Rifle Corps has a claim upon their support which we think is more important than that of the Natural History Society again the branches which are most attrac

tive to them require the greatest sacrifice of time and present a narrower field of operations. In Geology the formation of this district is rather barren in results to the beginner, while Archæology demands a considerable outlay of time from the difficulties of reaching the most interesting localities of the neighbourhood if these branches are to be thoroughly supported, a complete severance from the school games must be made for it is doubtful whether the fact of prefects being, as it were, honorary members would be any material aid to the Society. We trust however that this is an evil which will remedy itself, and that the energy which the members show in the fields of Natural History will also raise them to a high position in the School. In conclusion we only hope that this is but the beginning of a long and prosperous career for the Society, believing firmly, as we do, that it is one of those institutions which the School "will not willingly let die."

VENICE.

In deep-hushed rest the sea-born city lies.

The moonlight, sleeping on the wave that plays With murmurous ripple through her watery maze, Kisses the sheen of marble shafts,-then dies Into the night. Here fairy structures rise

In shadowy out-line; there through misty haze
Loom turrets, dark with stains of other days,
And massy piles stand out against the skies,
Not her's the ceaseless din, the haunting roar:
All hushed, save when the gondolier's song
Makes music on the waters,-borne along
In measured undulation of the oar.

The fairy offspring of a magic wand,
The loveliest city of a lovely land.

EIDOLON,

AN UNPUBLISHED FRAGMENT OF OSSIAN.

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M.E.G.

THERE have not been wanting critics who, with the perverse ingenuity of neologian scepticism, have ventured to cast suspicions upon the authenticity of this poem.

We leave our readers to estimate at their true value such ill-digested assertions. As a fact, no poem extant bears clearer traces of Ossian's genius. The gorgeous richness of the colouring, the felicity of the epithets, the sublimity, the pathos, the inspiriting heroism which breathe through every part of it, will mark it in the opinion of all intelligent readers as the choicest draught of the Ossianic vintage. As for those who have doubted its genuineness, their quibbles are undeserving of refutation. One critic

has objected that Ossian was unacquainted with the noble game of football. Another has objected that in the time of Ossian the foundation stone of Marlborough College had not yet been laid. To those who are acquainted with the anachronisims of Virgil these objections the offspring of incredulity and ignorance, will appear as futile as they are ridiculous. We commend the poem, imperfectly translated though it be, to our enlightened readers, merely calling their attention to the grand moral which the poet has so skilfully drawn, that it is the highest privilege of man to resign his own selfish projects of ambition for the sake of furthering the glory of that part of the community with which his own existence is bound up.

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Fair of form and lofty of stature was Eidôlon, son of the House beloved by the Gods. Wavy were his locks as the foliage of the trees which o'ershadow Marlborough School field; clear and musical was his voice as the bell which summons Marlborough's sons to their daily tasks; stalwart and shapely were his limbs as the massive pillars which support the entrance-hall of Marlborough School; bright and sparkling was his eye as the generous liquor which the Marlburian heroes quaff at their mid-day feast his feet of wind outstripped in their matchless speed Duck's ethereal Pegasus; far back could he trace his genealogy to the days of yore when untimely sounds of revelry were heard by night in the Marlborough Common Room, and when long-maned steeds champed the golden grain on the site of the Marlborough Class Rooms. The sheen of the cups which decked his study was as the gleam of the midnight moon on the silver waters of a lake. Loud as the distant murmurs of ten thousand streams rang the cheers when he wielded the lithe bat on the Eleven Ground. Vast were the stores of knowledge piled in the teeming granary of his brain as the harvest fruits in the myriad barns of the Marlborough farmers. But a gloomy cloud rested on the brow of Eidolon. He shunned the haunts of men. His comrade Dicôson spake: "Eidôlon, friend of my soul, twin son of my youthful love, wherefore art thou sad? why hangs the cloud upon thy brow as the rain-cloud on St. Peter's tower, when the farmers tremble for their crops? Why heaves thy snowwhite bosom with unnumbered sighs? No more dost thou love to speed the bounding ball along the

smooth-shorn sward. No more dost thou love to build the stately verse of the Iambic or the Elegiac. No more dost thou love to lave thy glowing limbs in the translucent stream. The savour of roley-poley pudding no longer rises sweet in thy nostrils. The foaming joys of the malt god dost thou scorn. Unheeding thou passest by the priceless treasures of Foster. Scarce a cold and careless glance dost thou vouchsafe to the gleaming lollipop and the rosycheeked child of the apple-tree. Speak to me Eidolon! open thy griefs to thy friend." But Eidolon made answer in a voice mournful as the noise of winter rain when it drips from the eaves of Marlborough's College: "Dicôson! mighty hero! champion of the mud-stained football scrimmage! I am sick at heart. Fain would I commune in solitude with my soul upon the lonely downs."

He went his way and sate him down on a gigantic boulder near a lightning-blasted thorn. Then turning towards the glowing west, he stretched forth his hands and prayed: "Mighty Deity of Football! thou who comest with the storm-winds and the rain-clouds of winter, when the leaves are sere and the trees are bare, when the fire blazes on the glittering hearth, and roasted chestnuts are dear to the hearts of fags! when the falling puntabout booms through the shades of evening, when the coloured jerseys in Foster's window are bright as flowers in a summer greenhouse, when Avery fashions the thick-soled boots, meant to encase the feet of football-loving youths. Hear me, great Power! The joys of life fall upon me. Empty and unreal are they as the troops of the shades in the nether world.

No more do I thirst to win me fame in the Racquet Court, nor in the race of youths swift as the wind, nor in the Choir where is heard the song of the tuneful choristers, sweet-voiced as the birds of spring. Vainly does the love of unknown tongues allure me. Vainly does Curtius tempt me with elided stems, hard as the roots of branching trees on the mount. Be it mine to win fame for my House amid the heroes of the dark-rolling scrummage. May lightning pour from my gleaming cap and confound the serried ranks of the foe. Like a panther from the pestilential jungle, like a stately lion from the burning sands of the desert may I sweep upon them. May they fall as a star that shoots athwart the heaven when the traveller is alone and mourns the transient beam.

Deftly may the ball speed from my foot as the cane of the master of the Lower School rebounds from the jackets of the recalcitrant sons of toil. Swiftly may I cleave the hosts of the foe as the noble bark dashes aside the waves from her bows. May the departed heroes of my House hover around me on the gale or swim upon the dusky clouds of twilight and cheer me on to the strife. Not for mine own glory do I pray but for the glory of mine House! mighty god grant my prayer."

With the sound of rain and wind came the great god of Football from the west. His head was wreathed with a dark-blue cap and a white tassel. A fresh-blown Football hung around his neck, in either hand he held a goal-post. His jersey was dyed with the colours of the Houses of Marlborough's sons. Around his loins was girt a belt inwoven with their various badges. His locks were moist with the mists of Autumn. His boots were splashed with the mud of the scrummage.

"Eidôlon! strong as the east winds on the downs! tall as the antlered stag in Savernake Forest! nobly hast thou chosen, Son of the House beloved by the gods! noblest of tasks is it to strive in behalf of one's House. Ever in the ranks of war shalt thou be inspired by me. Thy cap shall shine as the darkened moon, the daughter of the starry skies, when she sheds her dusky rays on the dormitories of B House. In the midst of thine House shall thou stand on the field of battle, like a rock surrounded by its surging waves. Grateful shall thine aid be to them as timely half-holiday to the wearied denizen of the Lower 4th. Swiftly shalt thou stretch thy white side as thou movest along the field of battle, thy side which is white as the foam of the troubled waters of the bathing-place, when the plunge of the diver hurls them up to the blue heaven. The yellow hair of thy foes shall be stretched in the dust of their own playing-grounds. They shall fall as the pines on the bank of the mountain stream, when the winter torrent bursts its bounds. Blest shalt thou be for thy devotion to thy House when thou quaffest thy meal in the Palace of Valhalla: and sweet-tongued bards in the studies of the House beloved by the gods shall sing with rapture of Eidolon who strove to the death for their House in the thundering ranks of the Football Heroes."

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TREBLA.

HORACE.

Book I. Od. 22.

To Fuscus.
I.

He who from Vice's stain is pure Nor sword nor lance need wield, Nor poison'd arrow of the Moor; His virtue is his shield.

II.

Whether o'er Libyan deserts he
Or Caucasus may roam,
Or tossed o'er the Myrtoan sea
Far from his native home.

III.

E'en famish'd wolves from me retire,
When in the Sabine grove

I warble to my tuneful lyre
Of Lalage and love.

IV.

Place me in Scythia's drear domain,
Chill'd with eternal snows,

And where through all the frozen plain
No grateful streamlet flows.

V.

Or place me where no Zephyrs bear
Fresh fragrance on their wing:
Of Lalage, the young and fair,
And her sweet smiles, I sing.

N.B. Between the third and fourth stanzas, a stanza of the original is omitted.

HORACE.

Book I. Od. 32.

TO HIS LYRE.

I.

If ever 'neath the myrtle's shade, With thee I've sported, tuneful lyre, Well be thy master's care repaid,

Let Phoebus now your notes inspire.

II.

First struck in Lesbos' flow'ry plain
By him, who, after war's alarms,
(Escaped the dangers of the main

And tir'd of Mars and sounding arms.)

III.

Sang of the silver-footed Hours,
Of Cupid and the Muses nine,
Of Venus soft in Paphian bow'rs,
And Bacchus lord of rosy wine.
IV.

Oh lyre delight of Phoebus fair,

Sweet at the feasts of mighty Jove, Thou soother of thy master's care, Respond, when I thy chords shall move.

THE ART OF TOUTING, No., II., OR WADGE AGAIN.

Some time during the past autumn we had the pleasure, under the above title, of warning our readers against the class of men of whom we took Wadge for a type. We were asked, why so vindictive? Why fix upon poor Wadge, apparently merely because his admirers gave him a public dinner, for so virulent an attack?.

We knew not why;-a sudden flash across the mind, a conviction that the world must be warned, and, as it now proves, the spirit of true prophecy urged us on; and we congratulate ourselves and the readers of the Marlburian that we were the first to unveil the swindler.

It is indeed a proud moment, and as we compare our prophecies, warnings or forebodings of last autumn with the further, and probably concluding, proceedings of Mr. Wadge as they appeared in the Times of July 26th, we cannot restrain ourselves from howling aloud

"Oh, our prophetic souls, our Wadge."

"Two or three years ago a gentleman named Harvey Wadge came to Dublin, and devoted himself with great energy to the development of the industrial resources of Ireland, which he said were magnificent, but unaccountably neglected. All that was needed to make the country prosperous was capital, directed by intelligence. Happily, Mr. Harvey Wadge was a gentleman who felt a deep interest in our people, and he had an unlimited command of capital, being a large proprietor of English mines, and having, though a young man, realized an immense fortune. What Ireland wanted, therefore, said the press, was more Wadges. He established a company and set a factory going in the neighbourhood of Dublin, He established an industrial magazine to make known the wants of Ireland on the one hand, and its latent wealth on the other. After a few months the magazine suddenly stopped, but this was because the object for which it was started had been effectually accomplished during its brief and prosperous career, and Mr. Harvey Wadge found that the time and attention it required must be devoted to schemes of a higher and nobler character. In the meantime his entertainments were in a style of splendour almost unparalleled, as became a millionaire. His house was furnished in the most costly manner, and his tastes was the theme of general admiration. He had in cellar a quantity of the choicest vintages, which he declared to be 100 years old. Marley, the fine old family seat of the La Touches, was in the Landed Estates Court, and Mr. Harvey Wadge was declared the purchaser, making a deposit of £12,000 in part payment. In the meantime there were mysterious whispers in commercial circles (owing doubtless to the hints given by the Marlburian) that all was not right, and ultimately it was announced in the fashionable intelligence of the Dublin papers that Mr. Harvey Wadge had left town for a short visit to Italy, where he was required to authenticate a signature in a will case, in which a Prince was one of the parties. It soon transpired that this enterprising gentleman was not likely to return to the country which he promised to regenerate, and many of those in whom he inspired confidence have come to the conclusion that it would be better without such industrial operators to develope its resources."

his

Correspondence.

To the Editor of the Marlburian.

SIR, In justice to Moeran, against whom unworthy suspicions may have been raised by some remarks in your last number, I think it better to state the facts of the case. On the morning of the Rugby match, after bowling a few balls in practice, Moeran complained to me of having strained his leg, adding that it had been already slightly strained in a House match at Marlborough. It was then too late to make any alteration, and consequently he played, and on account of the strain was very unsuccessful in his bowling. Had this strain been painful before the match and I had known of it, I should certainly have played some one else, but it did not come on seriously till the very morning of the match, when a change of players was absolutely impossible, not a single Marlburian being on the ground. The accident can only be viewed as particularly unfortun

We have received a letter charging us with indulging in personalities in the account of the Rugby match. Such a charge needs a few remarks in reply. When a member of the School accepts a responsible position, he thereby lays himself open to criticism, and impartiality demands that while we bestow praise, we should not withhold blame when required. We must say circumstances rather bore out the remarks in question, for it certainly appeared as if Moeran had concealed his injury until the last minute. Again, owing to the first day of the match, the one in question, coming on Prize-Day, none of the Editors were able to be present, except the Captain of the Eleven, we consequently accepted his account as correct, and we have not heard any of the other members of the Eleven doubt its accuracy. Holding then that adverse, as well as favourable criticism should find a place in the Marlburian, we could not do anything else but insert the account; otherwise our periodical would be simply a channel of flattery.

MARLBOROUGH COLLEGE CHOIR v. THE SAVERNAKE CLUB.

ON Thursday, Sept. 5th, being the Choir half-holiday, this match was played on the College Ground. The day was fine in spite of a slight fall of rain in the morning, the only drawback being a somewhat strong wind, which freshened as the day advanced. At 12-25 the Choir were represented at the wickets by Hervey and Hawkins; runs came slowly, but steadily, till Hawkins set the example by a cut for 3 down the bank, which Hervey soon followed by two hits for 3; he now lost Hawkins' company, who was bowled off his pad by Williams for 7. Bourdillon came next and led off with a hit for 2, when Hervey was caught off Batson for 13, comprising two threes and singles. Money now joined Bourdillon, and some hard hitting ensued, Money hitting two to leg for 4 each, and Bourdillon quickly knocking up 10 by a 4 and two more twos when his career was stopped by Batson who bowled him clean. Now came E. Mansfield and a longer stand was the result, both he and Money playing well and carefully, though not letting off many loose balls as was witnessed by a splendid hit for 5 down the bank made by Money, and twos following quickly from both batsmen for several overs. After the score had been brought up from 37 to 73 Mansfield was unfortunately run out for 13, comprising a three, four twos, and singles. Lunch was now ready, after which Money skied a ball to long leg, which was let off, but luck was against him for he was bowled directly after by Chenery for 24, comprising a five, two fours, two twos, and singles. Carles, who had taken Mansfield's place was soon bowled by Batson for 1, and Bulley before he had scored any runs was enticed out of his ground by Chenery, and in endeavouring to save himself was bowled clean. The game now looked very bad for the choir, as only one run had been made for the last three wickets. A slight change for the better was, however, effected by Green and F. Mansfield, who brought the score up from 76 to 104, when Green was bowled by Brown, who had taken Batson's place for 19, comprising two fours, two threes, and singles. Williams now went on bowling once more at Chenery's end, and Mansfield soon fell a victim to him, after a well played and steady innings of 6, and Acland, after hitting a good one for four, was soon bowled by Williams for 7, leaving Duthy not out with 5 (a three