deed! what a lover of Nature you must be-why, 'tis ten chances to one you merely looked on the - as a trout stream."

"I thought it no end of a likely place for a good run," said I coolly. Priscilla smiled, and fell back on the "Magister Equitum," Incomptus.

"It's very well to laugh, Incomptus," growled I, as we sat together after our return, "very well to laugh, but that won't answer P.'s question."

"The question is as plain as two and two," replied Incomptus, with a self-satisfied shake of his luxuriant curls.

"None of your Mathematics," said I.

"Did you ever see a learned pig, Growler?" "Once in a fair-but what the

to do with this question, I can't imagine."

a learned pig can have

"What makes a learned pig so valuable," went on Incomptus, not waiting for an answer to his question, "nothing in the world but its rarity-by the bye, there are two other vulgar errors .about pigs."

"Bother your vulgar errors," said I, "show 'em up in the Magazine !"

"Good notion that!" said he, nodding, "well, if every pig could perform, could spell a fellow's name, and discover his sweetheart, learning among pigs would be at a discount, and nobody would care to see a performance. See?"

"Deuce a bit," said I.

"Humph! just turn the learned pig into an author, then. If every fool could scribble an article, what would be the value of this?" and he tapped his forehead significantly. "If every one turned writer, there would be no readers; and if no readers, there would cease to be any cause for writing, and authorship would be at an end! The supply is only equal to the demand-you know!" This looked so logical that I could see no flaw in it, but as to understanding how it affected my question! "Well, Incomptus, what am I to say to Miss P?"

"Tell her the story of the pig, man! Tell her we authors know the value of a reader, and that if her exhortations were successful,

we should be like a crowded company playing to empty boxes. Tell her-but I say, my good fellow, what have you been scribbling at all the while we have been chatting here."

"Only dotting down a few notes of my perplexities," said I. tells us most complications look cleaner on paper-and really I begin to see myself out of this !"

"And so do I," roared Incomptus, snatching up the sheet, "why, man, your reasons for not turning author prove you no end of an author yourself. Get out-the paper's mine-I confiscate it for the Magazine."

LAUDATOR TEMPORIS ACTI.

DERIVATION OF THE WORD "MAGAZINE.”

To the Editor of the "Shirburnian.”

MR. EDITOR," MAGAZIN, 8. m., Magazin (de l'Ar. Maghazin,) lieu où l'on serre les marchandises :" such are the spelling, pronunciation, derivation, and meaning, as given by MM. Noël and Chapsal. It would seem, therefore, that we ought to go to Arabia, and not to Gaza-whether of the Philistines or of the Romans-for a further solution. The Classical 'gaza,' without a capital letter, which F. P. doubtless intended, is referred to the Persian. Whether this offers any bond of union between the two words, is open to conjecture. I regret that neither my Arabic nor my Persian is all that it should be for supplying the correction.

Faithfully yours,

ANSWERS TO CHARADES.

1. Candlestick.

2. Mystick.

ETYMOLOGUS.

THE SHIRBURNIAN.

No. VII.

NOVEMBER, 1859.

ADVENTURES OF AN OLD SHERBORNIAN.

(Continued.)

Or the religion of the Burmese I have already spoken, but I must pass not over that subject without making more particular mention of the monks or Poongyees.

Any one may become a Poongyee, and remain so as long or short a time as he pleases. The Poongyees wear a yellow cloth folded about the body, and have their heads closely shaved; they must lead a life of celibacy, and are entirely dependent for food and clothing on the charity of others. Every morning, soon after sunrise, one or two of the younger monks sally forth from the monastery with the covered wooden bowls I have above mentioned, and walk slowly through the town, sometimes ringing a small bell, but more generally without any sound to announce their approach. They never ask alms, but the hour of their approach is well known to all the people, and as they pass along, the women of the different houses in their route come to their doors, one with a small basin of boiled rice, another with a cupful of stew, a third with a small portion of curry and perhaps another bowl of rice, a fourth with a bunch of ripe plantains; and thus by the time the bowl-bearers have got back to their monastery there is abundance of food for the inmates. The employment of these men is to

teach the young, which they do gratuitously, and consequently the greater part of the population of Burmah can read and write their own language. Printed books are not used, but books written on palm leaves; these are curiosities in their way, and some specimens of them may be seen in the Indian Court at the Crystal Palace, where also are some very good models of Burmese houses, and of Poongyee-houses ;—but for those of my readers who cannot go there to see them I will endeavour to describe them. The leaves as used for writing upon, are about sixteen or eighteen inches long, by about two inches broad; at three or four inches from each end of each leaf a round hole is punched; through these holes a string is passed, forming the fastenings of the binding. The covers of the book are made of two flat pieces of wood, the outer sides of which, as well as the edges of the leaves, are gilt The strings are untied when you want to read, and tied up again when you have finished. The writing is executed by an iron point or stylus. Some of these manuscript books are of very ancient date and highly prized, in fact valued beyond all pricemany of them are written in Pâli,* a dialect of the Sanscrit language.

But to return to the Poongyees. Those who have remained many years in the monastery, and acquired a name for devotion and austerity, are very much reverenced by the people; and on their feastdays, which are regulated by the new and full moon, when the people flock up in crowds to the pagodas, after saying their prayers to the pagodas, they gather together in congregations in the Zăyâts, or wooden chapels, always to be found near the pagodas, and there squatting down on the floor, listen to a sermon on moral duties, preached by one of the elder Poongyees; who, being in the odour of sanctity, sits apart from all, while one of the younger members of his monastery holds before his face a palm-leaf fan, that he may not be defiled by looking upon the women assembled before him. When a very old and much-honoured Poongyee dies, he is not buried at once, but his body is preserved from corruption by being kept

* Where the accented 'a' is met with, pronounce it like 'ah.'

in honey until such time as they are ready to give him a grand burning. This may not be for months after his death; meanwhile a kind of triumphal car is prepared, made of bamboo frame-work, large and tall, placed upon wheels, and not ungracefully put together; this is highly ornamented with paper of all colours, and gold leaf, with tinsel, and innumerable small mirrors and pieces of talc, that give the whole a shining, pretty appearance. Many flags of different colours are stuck about the car, and at the top of all is placed the body of the dead Poongyee in his coffin.

On the day appointed for the burning, the people of the neighbouring towns and villages gather together in vast numbers, from ten to twenty thousand sometimes, and drawing the car to a convenient level plain, with music accompanying the procession, when arrived there, pile brushwood and other inflammable substances around and in the car. The spectators then draw away

from the neighbourhood of it, and then comes the process of lighting the pile. This is done in the following manner: huge rockets are made by cutting down a palm tree, and, taking a length of about eight or ten feet of the trunk, the inside of it is scooped out and filled with rocket-composition, and the whole affair is then placed on a platform with wheels, looking more like some kind of mounted cannon than a rocket, and being placed pointing towards the car, but at a distance from it, the rocket is lighted, and rushes off as fast as the wheels will carry it. Any inequality in the surface of the ground may turn it out of its course, and then it goes fizzing and rushing along as chance may direct it, right on to the assembled crowd sometimes, causing a most rapid dispersion out of its path, but not unfrequently serious accidents arise from this cause. If the first rocket fails in striking the car at which it is aimed, another and another succeeds, until one is fortunate enough to hit the mark, when it sets the whole in a blaze, and the flames soon reduce car and Poongyée to ashes.

I am afraid some of my readers will exclaim "Adventures of a Sherbornian! Where are they there are no adventures at all !” and I must own that the introduction has been very long, but I