good plaid, well made; that is to say, sitting easy across the chest, and easy at the arm-holes (not cutting those members off, as some coats do), and with the collar not rolled, but made single-breasted, is to be preferred. It should have four pockets: one on each side, low down; one on the right for wadding, and one small pocket just below it for percussion caps. This latter should not be deep--not more so than can be reached to the bottom with the thumb and finger. The waistcoat should be made of the same material as the coat, and long, with flaps to the pockets. This, likewise, is best made singlebreasted; but it ought to button close up to the throat. For trousers, I recommend shepherd's plaid; unless it is for going through briars, in which case fustian is to be preferred. Cord trowsers should, in my opinion, go with velveteen jackets, as being equally detestable. They let the wet in, having regular channels for it; are heavy; and, in fact, have not a single recommendation. Some have leather attached to the trousers, which is rather a good plan; as it can be sponged when very dirty, and dries immediately. Boots are better than shoes, as they support the ancle; and shoes are constantly getting off as you walk through stiff clay; added to which, it works up between the gaiter. Indeed, nothing is better than the common half-boot, which laces up in front, made strong, with nails in them. If you have them made in time to get seasoned before you use them, and afterwards keep them well greased, they will keep out a great deal of wet; but the great secret is to let them have time to settle, as it is termed, before wearing them. The best hat for wearing shooting is a common beaver, made low in the crown. Thoughts on leaving Westminster-Historical Recollections of Queen Elizabeth's College-Men of Genius and Talent educated within its walls. Our last chapter concluded with the practical jest that had been played by Billy Sanders upon the unfortunate "fags," after our supper at "Mother Pack's." No sooner had I soothed the "jet-black victims" by the promise of a grand "tuck out," than I returned to Kirkonnel's room-the scene of our midnight orgies; and the view that presented itself was one that ought for ever to have operated upon my mind, in the same powerful manner that the sight of drunkenness did upon that of the Spartan youth. Upon the table still remained the empty bottles, broken glasses, scraps of victuals, soiled table-cloth of unspeakable hue, melted tallow, unwashed plates and dishes. The fumes of malt, vinous and spirituous liquors, intermingled with the odour of burnt fat, fried sausages, red herrings, and blacking, created "the rankest compound of villanous smells that ever offended nostril." Our Amphitrion of the previous night was fast asleep in his bed, snoring most sonorously; while Frank Alderson lay extended on the rug, with a red leather satchell for his pillow, and a green baize window curtain (ordinarily used to keep out the light) as his covering. The stage-struck hero started up as I entered, and seeing Kirkonnel still under the influence of Somnus, exclaimed "Fast asleep? It is no matter; Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber." But, as Dr. Cary was about to go into school, I shook the snoring youth, who, starting from his bed, plunged his head into a basin of cold water, and soon recovered his senses. 66 Well, my good fellows, wait on me to-night," resumed Frank Alderson; scant not my cups.' We'll have one other gaudy night. Once more let's mock the midnight bell." Kirkonnel gladly accepted the invitation, provided I could prevail upon our worthy tutor, Jemmy Dodd, to give him leave. 66 My hat to a halfpenny he will," proceeded the lawyer, still quoting his favourite author. Our conversation was interrupted by the appearance of a breathless young urchin, who rushed into the room, exclaiming, "Cary's going in!" Frank A'derson and Sanders hastily shook hands with our comrade, and I ran off to join my tutor, as he walked across Dean's-yard, towards the old school, to obtain permission for Kirkonnel to pass the half-holiday with me. This was readily assented to; and taking leave of my kind tutor, I returned to my dame's, where stillness prevailed, and where I found myself standing alone, as desolate in feeling as when, some winters before, I for the first time entered those walls. A little fellow out of school, upon the sick list, whom I had befriended by protecting him against the "bully" of his room, seeing me in a dejected state, came forward and offered me all the consolation in his power; but not even his simple, yet heartfelt sympathy could raise my drooping spirits, in parting with the troops of young friends I had formed during my stay at Westminster. I was now reminded by the trusty Dick that a coach was at the door, and that my trunk was in it. "Good-bye, Percy," said the stripling; "I shall have no one now left to take my part. Accept this Ovid as a keepsake; I have already written your name in it." I took the book, and thanked the donor of it with the most fervent gratitude. "I hope we shall meet again," he continued. We did meet again, on the ensanguined plain of Waterloo, as will be fully developed in the course of this narrative. But how different was that greeting! On the morning of the glorious eighteenth of June, a well-known voice hailed me in my bivouac : it was that of the youth I have just alluded to, then an ensign in the line. Buoyant with youthful ardour, animated with hope, and elated with the gallant deeds our respective regiments had performed on the sixteenth, we talked over our past lives and future plans; looked forward to a successful termination of the campaign, and anticipated the pleasures of marching triumphantly into the capital of La belle France. Before the sun had set on the evening of that day, I saw poor Charles a lifeless corpse. In To return to Westminster. I had taken leave of Mrs. Packharness, old Jane the housekeeper, Dick the Cerberus, and the rest of the establishment, and heart-broken had entered the crazy vehicle that was to take me home (if such a word can be applied to a large rambling house, with no one but an antiquated cross housemaid, and a superannuated porter, to receive me), when I found my friends, Alderson and Billy Sanders, comfortably ensconced within the rumbling conveyance. vain, however, did the apt quotations of the former, or the witticisms of the latter, upon the passing multitude, raise me from my dulness; when, upon a sudden, I started from a melancholy reverie in which I was indulging, by a glimpse I caught of a face so like that of my Celine, that I involuntarily attempted to pull the check-string, which, as a matter of course, when wanted was not in the driver's hand. The fair one kissed her hand to Sanders in the most familiar manner, which he returned. "Pull up!" I exclaimed, letting down the cracked window, and in my haste smashing the glass. This movement seemed to produce some effect upon the object of my search and her companion, a young girl of about her own age; for, turning short down the passage that led from Parliament-street, Westminster, into Cannon-row, they were in a second out of sight. Before the ricketty coach could be brought to a stand-still, the driver descend from his box, the door be opened, and the rattling steps let down, the fugitives had gained at least two minutes' law, and the pursuit seemed fruitless. I, however, jumped down, and "making a cast, hoped to recover the "cold scent;" but no trace could I find, and I gave up this my first love-chase in despair. "How can he know, Circus?" said the hoaxer, as I returned to my friends.' "Silence!" responded Frank Alderson; "he comes." In vain did I attempt to ascertain whether my jealous fears were well grounded, as to Sanders' recognition of my charmer; for seeing that the " green-eyed monster" had taken hold of me, he laughed the subject off, by saying how, by his familiar gestures, he had scared two unknown young ladies away. Alderson taxed me with love at first sight, saying that the objects of my search were the daughters of a most respectable tradesman in Bridge-street, and warning me to beware of "The wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy; The senior junior giant dwarf, Don Cupid; Regent of love rhymes, lord of folded arms, The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans." During the entire day I could not succeed in driving the thought of Celine from my mind; nor did the excellent cheer which Alderson had provided for us, nor the exquisite performance of that child of nature, Mrs. Jordan, in the "Devil to Pay," at all restore me to my peace of mind. One incident alone occurred that was worth recording. popular actress of that day, whose talent was second to none, and who A still lives to enjoy the popularity which both her private and public character so eminently entitle her to, had, during the temporary absence of the Jordan, personated the character of Nell the Cobler's Wife in a manner that had shed fresh lustre on this favourite daughter of Thalia. Curiosity had attracted Miss Duncan to the theatre, to witness the performance we have alluded to, and scarcely had she been seated in the box, when Frank Alderson, who never could spare even his best friend, when a ready saying was at hand, exclaimed-fortunately, in a tone that was only heard by his own party-"Hear it not, Duncan; for 'tis the knell (Nell)." Apt as was the quotation, it was not warranted in this case; for, in many respects, Mrs. Davison, née Duncan, was scarcely inferior to Mrs. Jordan. I had now taken leave of Dean's-yard, and was to remain a few weeks in London, preparatory to joining my private tutor, near Newbury. Before, however, I quit the subject of the school, I may be permitted, with an old Westminster's partiality, to enter into some little detail of this scene of my boyish days. Who is there that can look back without a pleasurable feeling to the delights of the summer sports-bathing, boating, cricketing; the football in the cloisters, or hockey in the yard? Nor was gloomy winter without its charms. A day's shooting in Tothillfields, and the annual College Play, were amusements which have seldom been equalled in after life. While upon the subject of "the play," happy are we to record that the following memorial, signed by a most numerous and respectable body of old Westminsters, has been attended to, and that last Christmas year the performance (honoured by Prince Albert, who has ever proved himself ready to support the best institutions of this country) was pre-eminently successful. The "Adelphi" of Terence was never better performed. The epilogue, a capital political "skit," was received with shouts; while the prologue, delivered by the Captain, shewed that the scholar, the actor, and the gentleman, were united in the person of Mr. Williams. following is a copy of the address :— The "London, June, 1847. "VERY REVEREND SIR.-We, the undersigned old Westminsters, understanding that the question of the abolition of the Play annually represented in the dormitory of St. Peter's College, is still under the consideration of yourself and the Chapter over which you preside, and believing that an expression of the feelings and opinions of the general body of Old Westminsters cannot but prove acceptable to you, beg respectfully to address you for the purpose of stating our humble, but conscientious convictions on the subject. It is not our intention, nor would it be desirable, to enter into the details of the question in this letter. We are anxious, also, to disclaim any improper interference with the measures of those to whom the management of the school is entrusted; but, though it is natural that our sympathies should be aroused in favour of a custom with which so many of our earliest associations are blended, we seek, apart from such laudable feelings, to record our firm and deliberate belief, founded on experience and reflection, that the abolition of the Westminster Play cannot fail to prove prejudicial to the interests and prosperity of the school. Signed by the late Archbishop of York, and a large portion of clerical and laymen. "To the Very Reverend the Dean of Westminster." To return to the old school. gives the following account : Maitland, in his " History of London," "This school, belonging to Queen's College, Westminster, was founded by Queen Elizabeth, in the year 1560, for the education of forty boys, denominated the Queen's Scholars, who are taught in the best manner, preparatory to the University. Besides whom, great numbers of the young noblemen and gentlemen are educated here; whereby it has become the greatest school in the kingdom, to the great advantage of the masters, who, instead of a master and an usher, as at first, are now an upper and under master, and five ushers or assistants, who at present have above four hundred young gentlemen under their tuition." 66 A record of those educated within its walls since the days of the Virgin Queen would occupy more space than we can devote to the subject, however interesting it might be to our old Westminster readers. Suffice it to say, that it was here that Dryden, "the great honour and ornament of the nation," distinguished himself by translating the third satire of Perseus" for an exercise; and here he cultivated that invention and sublime imagination which showed in the celebrated ode on St. Cecilia, and inculcated the passion that broke forth in "Absalom" and "Architophel," "Palamon," and "Arcite." Here Locke received those rudiments which afterwards enabled him to give his undying treatise upon education. Prior too, who, according to his panegyrist, Pope, was "Of manners gentle, of affection mild; In wit a man, simplicity a child." Smith, Rowe, Elkanah, Settle, Churchill the Satirist, and Lloyd, may all be added to the bright names of the intellectual world, whose talents were fostered under the roof of St. Peter's. In addition to the above distinguished names, may be mentioned the learned, witty, and ambitious churchman, Francis Atterbury, bishop of Rochester, the reputed author of the celebrated speech delivered by Dr. Sacheveral, on his trial; the able advocate in his own case, at Westminster, the zealous defender of Martin Luther, and the staunch supporter of the Protestant religion. In contradistinction to this most elegant scholar may be mentioned that vain and weak nobleman, Thomas Pelham, whose partizanship for George the First was amply rewarded. For not only was this pompous individual described as one "Void of honesty, of sense, of art A foolish head, and a perfidious heart," raised to the rank of Earl of Clare and Duke of Newcastle; but he was made a Knight of the Garter, and appointed Lord Chamberlain and Secretary of State. In the reign of George the Second, the Duke was made Prime Minister and first Lord of the Treasury to a monarch who despised him. It was here, too, that, for a period of fifty-five years, Dr. Busby ruled over the destinies of this school with "a rod of iron;" or, more correctly speaking, with one of "birch." It was the boast of this flogging pedagogue, that sixteen out of the bench of bishops had received their education under his auspices. Of Busby's predecessors, the most eminent name was that of Camden, who, in 1571, while under-master, wrote his great work, the "Britannia.' In 1592 he was appointed head master. Ben Jonson was a scholar under him. Since the sovereignty of the flagellating Doctor, the following have wielded the birchen sceptre, but with a much less degree of severity:-Dr. Freind, who gave rise to a variety of verses, epigrams, and puns upon his name, one of which, as quoted by a popular writer, in Charles Knight's "London," ran as follows: "Ye sons of Westminster, who still retain |