and the day is far off when we shall forget the friendly,
gentle people whose name is the memorial of a great ill escaped, of much
good enjoyed, in the days that are over, and the landmark of who knows
what greater good in the days that are to be.

CONCLUSION.

_Perhaps poetry and romance are as plentiful as ever in the world_,
_except for those phlegmatic natures_, _who_, _I suspect_, _would in
any age have regarded them as a dull form of erroneous thinking_.
_They exist very easily in the same room with the microscope_, _and
even in railway carriages_: _what banishes them is the vacuum in
gentleman and lady passengers_. _How should all the apparatus of
heaven and earth_, _from the farthest firmament to the tender bosom of
the mother who nourished us_, _make poetry for a mind that has no
movements of awe and tenderness_, _no sense of fellowship which
thrills from the near to the distant, and back again from the distant
to the near_?

GEORGE ELIOT.

[Greek verse]

ANTIGONE.

All is over now; April was just a twelfth-night old when the school
departed. Some of our company have lingered on for business, a few from
reluctance to have done with it. But to-day the last group has taken
wing for the Midlands. Old "Borth," the colley dog, followed them to the
station, and poked his nose into the carriage to take his leave. Old
Borth--we had almost forgotten him, and that had been deep ingratitude
for he was not the least warm-hearted of our friends in Wales. His
master lived two miles away; but soon after our arrival, Borth had come
down from the hills to attach himself to our fortunes, and henceforth
became, as it were, our familiar, the pet of the regiment, like the goat
of the "23rd." He knew his position, and was a stickler for formalities;
he had a wag of the tail for every boy who wore the image of the
venerable schoolmaster upon his cap; but if he met him bare-headed, or,
by any chance, in an indistinctive head-gear, he would cut that boy dead,
were he never so much the same urchin from whose hand he had yesterday
eaten a cheese-cake. That was his official rebuke for the irregularity.
By day, Borth would bask in some sunny corner of our quarters; at night,
he has been known to venture on a nearer intimacy where doors were left
open. We found you once ourselves, Borth, curled up and asleep upon our
own bed. You woke up, shook yourself with a modest, but n