windows as much, made them as little, like ordinary pictures, as it was possible to do. Instead of trying to join their several pieces together invisibly, they placed as the medium of holding them together, portions of opaque matter about each, so as completely to disjoin them in fact, though any thing but so in effect. You shall see, in their best works of this kind, the hand severed from the arm-the body from the limbs the head from the body-and even the hair from the head to which it belongs. But not the less does the whole unite itself into one perfect form in the spectator's imagination,—whose divine province and privilege it is, Fortunatus like, to wish things present or away, just as the immediate effect which calls it into action may require for its completion.

The College in connexion with which, after King's, we shall find the most matter for notice and admiration, is Trinity. We will enter it from its new Court, on account of the fine effect that we shall thus gain by means of the noble avenue of limes by which it is approached on that side. We shall also, by this arrangement, have an opportunity of noticing, as we pass, the fine addition which the building and grounds of Clare Hall make to this rich assemblage of picturesque and architectural beauty. Passing over the stone bridge which we have pointed out as finishing the left extremity of the inner court of King's, we find ourselves in a large square plot of ground, shut in (on every side except that where the river bounds it) by noble avenues of trees. Crossing this plot of ground at a right angle with the bridge, we presently find ourselves in front of a lofty iron gateway, detached from any buildings, and ornamented with armorial bearings, &c. This gate forms one extremity of an avenue of limes, the other extremity of which is closed by the chaste and simple, but stately front of Clare Hall. It will be well to pass down this avenue, if it be but to gaze for a few moments on the magnificent view which presents itself from the Bridge which must be passed before entering Clare Hall. Resting on the Bridge just named, you look upon a view on all sides, that may be pronounced no less faultless and complete, than it is striking for the varied and magnificent character of its beauty. Our limited purpose in this sketch will not admit of our describing this scene in detail—especially as such a description, to be intelligible, must involve many repetitions of what we have noticed above. Our object in referring to this particular point of observation is, to impress the recollection of it upon the future visitor of Cambridge, as one of those most worthy his attention and admira, tion. We will only add that the coup-d'œil takes in a view of the Cam on either hand, lapsing lazily along into the rich depths of elm and lime groves; many of the most striking features of King's; the whole garden-front of Clare Hall; and, on the whole of the right-hand department, such varied masses of stately trees as it would be difficult to match, within the same space of ground, anywhere in Europe.

Retracing our steps from the above point of view, up the avenue of trees which led to it, and then passing on about two hundred yards to the right of its upper extremity, we shall find ourselves in front of another detached gateway of ornamental iron-work, which forms the upper extremity of, and closes in, another avenue of limes, much more rich and lofty than the one leading to Clare Hall. At the opposite extremity from that where we are now standing, the avenue is closed by

a beautifully simple gateway of stone, of Gothic architecture, flanked by turrets, and forming the western entrance to the New (or King's) Court belonging to Trinity College. From the iron gateway where we are standing, nothing can be seen but the noble vista of limes which is closed by the Gothic gateway at its opposite end; but as we pass down the avenue, we presently see, on the right, the outer face of the newly erected Gothic Court; and, on the left, the singularly simple and appropriate erection, used as the Library of this College. A few paces only before you reach the Gothic entrance to the new court, you pass over a third Bridge; and it is at this point that the spectator will once more pause and look around him; though he will see no new objects, but only portions of those just glanced at. The view, however, is magnificent, chiefly on account of the vast, and perhaps unrivalled assemblage of wood, by which you are everywhere surrounded, and which forms stately avenues parallel with and at right angles to each other, and consisting, one of horse chesnuts, two of limes, and the remainder (together with other irregular masses) of elms,—all of which must have seen at least three generations of men grow up, and flourish, and pass away around them, and beneath their shade.

We now pass on, and entering the Gothic gateway spoken of above, as closing the stately avenue at the eastern extremity, we find ourselves in the New Court of Trinity College. This is among the most simple, regular, and complete, of all the quadrangles that we shall have to examine, and it corresponds in style with the gateway by which it is entered. This court is not of very large dimensions; and it perhaps looks smaller than it is, by reason of the circular form of the turf which covers it, and which form produces an effect more novel than either pleasing or appropriate; for we do not want novelty of effect in the quadrangle of a college. Passing from this court, through an archway on the left, we find ourselves in the Middle Court of Trinity,-the whole of which, except that side formed by the Hall, is built on piazzas, which form a cloistered walk all round. There is nothing more appropriate in its effect, in connexion with a collegiate building, than a cloistered way of this kind; and here, more fitly than anywhere else, does the collegiate dress fall in with the character of the place; it seems a sort of impertinence to meet any one in a scene like this, that does not "walk gowned." This court consists of the antique Hall, which occupies the eastern side, and is approached by a flight of steps; on the west, of the magnificent Library; and on the north and south, of the students rooms the three last-named sides being built on piazzas; and from that beneath the Library you have delightful views, through unglazed windows, into the noble grounds and gardens of the College.

(To be continued.)

THE FANCY BALL.

"A visor for a visor! what care I

What curious eye doth quote deformities?"
SHAKSPEARE.

"You used to talk," said Miss Mac Call,
"Of flowers, and flames, and Cupid;
But now you never talk at all,

Your 're getting vastly stupid.
You'd better burn your Blackstone, Sir,
You never will get through it;
There's a Fancy Ball at Winchester,—
Do let us take you to it."

I made that night a solemn vow,
To startle all beholders;
I wore white muslin on my brow,
Green velvet on my shoulders;
My trowsers were supremely wide,
I learn'd to swear "by Allah ;”
I stuck a poniard by my side,

And called myself "Abdallah."

Oh! a Fancy Ball's a strange affair,
Made of silks and leathers,
up

Light heads, light heels, false hearts, false hair,
Pins, paint, aud ostrich feathers:
The dullest Duke in all the town,
To-night may shine a droll one;
And rakes, who have not half-a-crown,
Look royal with a whole one.
Hail, blest Confusion! here are met
All tongues, and times, and faces,
The Lancers flirt with Juliet,

The Brahmin talks of races;

And where's your genius, bright Corinne?

And where your brogue, Sir Lucius?

And Chinca Ti, you have not seen

One chapter of Confucius.

Lo! dandies from Kamschatka flirt
With beauties from the Wrekin;
And belles from Berne look very pert
On Mandarins from Pekin;

The Cardinal is here from Rome,
The Commandant from Seville;

And Hamlet's father from the tomb,

And Faustus from the Devil.

What mean those laughing Nuns, I pray,
What mean they, Nun or Fairy?

I guess they told no beads to-day,

And sang no Ave Mary;

From Mass and Matins, Priest and Pix,
Barred door, and window grated,

I wish all pretty Catholics

Were thus emancipated.

Four Seasons come to dance quadrilles,
With four well-seasoned sailors;

And Raleigh talks of rail-road bills,
With Timon, prince of railers;

Dec. -VOL. XXIII. NO. XCVI.

2 L

I find Sir Charles of Aubyn Park
Equipp'd for a walk to Mecca;
And I run away from Joan of Arc,
To romp with sad Rebecca.
Fair Cleopatra's very plain,
Puck halts, and Ariel swaggers;
And Cæsar's murder'd o'er again,
Though not by Roman daggers:
Great Charlemagne is four feet high,
Sad stuff has Bacon spoken;
Queen Mary's waist is all awry,
And Psyche's nose is broken.

Our happiest bride, how very odd!
Is the mourning Isabella,

And the heaviest foot that ever trod
Is the foot of Cinderella;
Here sad Calista laughs outright,

There Yorick looks most grave, Sir,
And a Templar waves the cross to-night,
Who never cross'd the wave, Sir.
And what a Babel is the talk!

"The Giraffe"- "plays the fiddle”"Macadam's roads"-"I hate this chalk""Sweet girl"-" a charming riddle""I'm nearly drunk with"-" Epsom salts""Yes, separate beds"-" such cronies!""Good Heaven! who taught that man to valtz ?"66 A pair of Shetland ponies."

“Lord D—”-" an enchanting shape❞—

"Will move for"- Maraschino"

"Pray, Julia, how's your mother's ape?"

"He died at Navarino !"

"The gout by Jove is"-" apple pie"

"Don Miguel"-"Tom the tinker"

"His Lordship's pedigree 's as high

As" 99

Whipcord, dam by Clinker."

Change sides and to your places."

"A five-barred gate"-" a precious pearl"

"Grave things may all be punn'd on !”

"The Whigs, thank God, are"-"out of curl !”—

"Her age is"-" four by London!"

Thus run the giddy hours away,
Till morning's light is beaming,
And we must go to dream by day
All we to-night are dreaming;
To smile and sigh, to love and change;
Oh! in our heart's recesses,
We dress in fancies quite as strange

As these our fancy-dresses.

NARES'S LIFE AND ADMINISTRATION OF LORD BURGHLEY.*

THIS is of a good school: by a veteran in literature familiar with the story of the times in which his hero flourished, and evidently fond of discussing them-bringing to the task he has undertaken, the advantages of long practice and matured experience-accustomed to search and sift, to unravel intricacies, to balance probabilities, and fix results-neither daunted by labours, nor shrinking from difficulties, but boldly diving into the depths of his subject, and bringing forth treasures new and old. His authentic materials were abundant; Lord Burghley was a man of business, carefully gathering papers and documents, and his descendants have religiously preserved them. They have been picked and culled by numbers, but never with the direct purpose of illustrating the merits of the original possessor. Singularly enough, Lord Burghley has never had fair justice done him-his actions have never been fully detected and canvassed-though confessedly the leading counsellor of the whole of Elizabeth's reign, the main spring and support of a successful government for forty years, at a period when society, thrown into a state of disturbance by the fermentation of new opinions and principles, required the very wisest and most watchful management while superintending its subsidence. He has been mixed up, impersonally, with the general government, and has, in a measure, lost some of the individualizing features of the man.

In the common estimate, which after all perhaps seldom very widely misses the mark, Lord Burghley is the very representative of prudence and political sagacity—a man of a Macchiavelian cast, not, apparently, very nice about the means of accomplishing important ends-the protector of Protestantism and the church hierarchy-the persecutor of heretics-the unscrupulous agent of Elizabeth's worst excesses; but, at the same time, the resolute de fender of his country's superiority-the seaman who safely conducted the vessel among shoals and quicksands-the pilot that weathered the storm. Let his faults have been what they may, success has thrown a veil over them, and success, with those at least who share the advantages of it, if it be not made the measure of worth exactly, is pretty sure of a liberal construction. Besides, the depreciators of Lord Burghley were a defeated, we need not add, an oppressed party, and a party notoriously distinguished (we are not speaking with any invidious allusion to existing circumstances) for sticking at no calumnies or corruptions; and therefore the less entitled, and the less likely, in the long run, to fix a lasting stain upon those they desire to asperse. Nevertheless, looking to the unmitigated facts of Burghley's history-and few do more-the balance is decidedly against him. We know him to have been charged with betraying both Somerset and Northumberland-we know him to have been trusted by the one, and to have acted officially under the other; and we find him successively in the service of Henry, Edward, Mary, and Elizabeth. The bare facts irresistibly suggest the existence of pliancy of principle; and yet the known influence he possessed with one party, permanently and uninterruptedly, shows a sort of confidence which nothing surely but consistency, steadiness, and sincerity, in no common degree, could justify or originate. That he must, however, have submitted to compliances is indisputable-the question will be, how far they were warrantable, how far they were specifically prompted by private interests, or how far they were directed and contributed to the establishment of permanent and pervading good. The end is not to justify the means; but the greatness of the end will nevertheless, in the eyes apparently of the sober and practical moralist, and certainly in the estimate of common observers, excuse occa

* Memoirs of the Life and Administration of the Right Hon. William Cecil, Lord Burghley, Lord High Treasurer of England in the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. By the Rev. Edward Nares, D. D. Regius Professor of Modern History in the University of Oxford. 2 vols. 4to.