~29~~ the next cricket match or water expedition. The duck and green pea suppers at Surley Hall would have lost half their relish without the enlivening smiles and smart repartees of Bernard Blackmantle. The preparations for the glorious fourth of June were always submitted to his superior skill and direction. His fiat could decide the claims of the rival boats, in their choice of jackets, hats, and favors; and the judicious arrangement of the fire-works was another proof of his taste. Let it not, however, be thought that his other avocations so entirely monopolized him as to preclude a due attention to study. Had it been so, his success with the [Greek phrase] would never have been so complete: his desire to be able to confer obligations on his schoolfellows induced Bernard to husband carefully every hour which he spent at home; a decent scholarship, and much general knowledge, was the reward of this plan. The treasure-house of his memory was well stored, and his reputation as an orator gave promise of future excellence. His classical attainments, if not florid, were liberal, and free from pedantry. His proficiency in English literature was universally acknowledged, and his love of the poets amounted to enthusiasm. He was formed for all the bustle of variegated life, and his conversation was crystallized with the sparkling attractions of wit and humour. Subject to the weakness to which genius is ever liable, he was both eccentric and wayward, but he had the good sense to guard his failing from general observation; and although he often shot his arrows anonymously, he never dipt them in the gall of prejudice or ill-nature. I have dwelt upon his character with pleasure, because there are very few who know him intimately. With a happy versatility of talents, he is neither lonesome in his solitude, nor over joyous in a crowd. For his literary attainments, they must be judged of by their fruits. I cannot better conclude my attempt ~30~~ to describe his qualifications than by offering his first essay to your notice, a school-boy tribute to friendship. TRUE FRIENDSHIP. 'Infido scurrae distabit amicus.' Horace. How very seldom do we find A relish in the human mind For friendship pure and real; How few its approbation seek, How oft we count its censures weak, Disguising what we feel. Adulation lives to please, Truth dies the victim of disease, Forgotten by the world: The flattery of the fool delights The wise, rebuke our pride affrights, And virtue's banner's furl'd. Wherefore do we censure fate, When she withholds the perfect state Of friendship from our grasp, If we ourselves have not the power, The mind to enjoy the blessed hour, The fleeting treasure clasp?