paid his host, he started for Florence. The astonishment of the folk of Perugia may be imagined when they saw the plight of their patron saint, and great was their wrath at the trick of the crafty Florentine. Had they considered the matter philosophically, they might have regarded the fishy circlet as deeply emblematic of the good saint's respect for Friday and Lenten fare, but, not being philosophers, in hot haste they despatched a party of horsemen on a fruitless expedition after the painter. Afterwards, however, they employed an artist of their own to restore to its place the original and so much admired diadem. At his native city Buffalmacco executed many other works, and among them a Virgin and Child, which is still to be seen, and which was the occasion of the last prank of his which we shall mention. The man for whom it was painted repaid the artist with empty promises, until Buffulmacco, repairing to the church, transformed the child into a young bear, but only with water-colours. The purchaser, on seeing what had been done, entreated him to restore the child, paying him on the spot what he owed him. A wet sponge removed the offending animal. In due course of time Buonamico Buffalmacco died at the good old age of seventy-eight, and as he left nothing behind him in the way of property, for we are told that he was one of that large cosmopolitan society who always spend more than they gain, he was buried by the confraternity of the Misericordia in their cemetery at Florence. Such are some of the curious old stories which Vasari, with, perhaps, a twinge of conscience at having so forgotten his dignity as to relate, tells us both Franco Lacchetti and Boccaccio have thought worthy of remembrance. We have no ground for supposing Buffalmacco to have been a wit of very high order, but merely a merry, careless Italian, who, having spent the day over some enormous fresco, portraying regiments of saints and martyrs, used to repair in the evening with a light heart to the nearest wine-shop, and enjoy his earnings, Anacreon-like, over a bottle of the best vintage in his hostess's cellar. The next time that we stand before a painting of this period, with its gaudy background of gold-leaf, and its tall angular figures, with their pale oval faces, long hands, and gorgeous dresses, bright scarlet, green, and blue,—we shall perhaps form a more real idea of its painter, after this brief consideration of one of his brethren. THE BETTER LAND. THE legends of our childhood There cloudless skies are bending There love has life eternal, Alas! that blessed country! STUDENTS' SOCIETIES. HAVING discarded, as flimsy and far-fetched, our first introduction of this subject, we felt at a loss for another. And at this crisis we might, perhaps, have heeded the advice given by our better nature; and, as regards the "College Magazine," have "flung away ambition" and our project altogether, had we not been conscious of two suggestions, which in similar circumstances have doubtless often reassured the heart of the hesitating critic. Our subject, we remembered, was most important, and our imperfect hints, however unworthy of its importance, might be productive of some good, and so be preferable to total silence. We presume the readers of these pages are, for the most part, too much liberalized to misinterpret the term 'Education,' or confound it with the curriculum of prescribed studies, or the amount of information ac quired thereby. It is in the aspect presented by this extended comprehension of the word, including the development and advancement of the whole intellectual and moral being, that the claims of such voluntary associations as those we are now treating of adequately present themselves. Meanwhile we anticipate that any general expressions illustrating the position of Students' Societies will be deprecated as trite and unnecessary. "Who is ignorant, now-a-days, of the benefits accruing from them to the youth of the University? Do not the young flock to them, and the old encourage them? Are not its teachers and professors included in the roll of their patrons and presidents? While their annual sessions are, in some instances, inaugurated by such a combined array of the aristocracy of mind, and the aristocracy of birth, as scarce any other occasion ever brings together,-do not the newspapers regularly announce to the public what these societies are doing, and do not the public prove their interest by their attendance ?" Nevertheless, we apprehend that the whole subject of Students' Societies, and the position and prospects of those within the University, afford ample matter for sober reflection, and judicious, though not unfriendly criticism. We will not trouble ourselves with the etymology of the word 'University,' as recently discussed in the pages of the "University Magazine," in order to confirm what we believe no one whose observation is worth anything will question, that the object of the seminaries called by this name is not chiefly to supply information, but only secondarily and as subservient to their prime object—the formation of character. He who supposes otherwise, or ever tests the value of their lessons by the gross amount of acquired facts demanded as the minimum condition of approval, mistakes their mission and their true dignity altogether. To instil a taste for analysis; to open the eyes of the rising generation; to give a true direction to curiosity; to exhibit in all its exact verities and in all its befitting grandeur "the chief end of man,"-no less than this is the task which every University contemplates. Bishop Butler, whose writings are in our own deservedly regarded as the standard of orthodoxy, has chosen to illustrate the end and aim of human life by the pursuits of its earlier years; and this view, while it moderates the joys of prosperity, while it appeases the sorrows of misfortune, while it explains the enigma of our mortal being, finds its national practical exponent in the halls of our Colleges. In the working of Students' Societies, as in the success of public examinations, the fundamental principle is, to a great degree, the same, -the principle of emulation. The one motive, the desire of excellence, and the desire of fame (which are quite distinct from each other, however, and only called one for convenience), explains, and comprehends, and is acted upon in both. But beyond this general resemblance, the springs of action have many differences. The entrance of an undergraduate into College is not generally regarded by himself as a voluntary undertaking, for which he feels the responsibility devolving on voluntary acts. But the entrance, at a later stage, into one of these associations, is made when the youth has learned much more of his own capabilities, and, besides it is purely voluntary. Hence the timidity exhibited by some, and the eagerness with which others seek for membership, according as they think themselves adapted to play the part of men. This single consideration, involving the consequences attaching to it, in the history of such a creature as man, may suffice to vindicate the claims of Students' Societies to a position in the process of education far beyond what some are disposed to allow them. If duly appreciated, we think it is enough to demonstrate that their influence, as engines for good or evil, on their present subjects, and on future society, need yield to no other influence within the Alma Mater. The chief sources of declension in Students' Societies are two-an excess of party-spirit, and a creeping spirit of lethargy. The causes may indeed operate together, or one may produce the other. Yet they are necessarily distinct: of the two, we have no doubt the latter is by much the worse. This is self-evident, for nothing can more effectually destroy than that which causes the life and breath of a being to evaporate, leaving only its form, till it becomes a charity to— "Crack the wall that was crumbling before." On the former of these evils we entertain, perhaps, different views from some of our readers. The excess, and the excess only, of partyspirit is in our opinion prejudicial. Let us remind those who would eschew such a doctrine, of what Archbishop Whately has said in his "Political Economy." Few would be the good results of human actions were they only the good which flowed from public spirit. When we see party-spirit (and by party-spirit we would be understood to mean a partiality towards leading individual members, or a political, or a religious creed unduly protruded) existing, and from everlasting existing, in the Parliaments of the realm, existing, to some extent, in almost every confraternity we can think of; when we can scarce contemplate a sci entific gathering, or a union workhouse throughout the country, without beholding party-spirit, and its mingled effects, we must take upon ourselves to doubt if a fact so wide-spread in human history be not built on principles universal in human nature; or if party-spirit, instead of being regarded as the horror of a nursery sentimentalism, should now be recognised as an intended element in human life, whose guidance and control may be the brilliant task of disinterested morality, but whose extinction we shall in vain expect to behold characterizing any preMillennial era. The effectual check to an excess of party-spirit will be found only in the cultivation and diffusion of a gentlemanly and honourable spirit: we will go further, and say, an honest spirit. A due recollection of the ultimate ends proposed in Students' Societies,-a conviction of the responsibility accruing from membership,-will inevitably divest the lesser and more immediate objects of their adventitious and disproportionate importance. War is always illustrious and fascinating. Whether it be a war of weapons, or a war of pamphlets, or a war of words, it will to the last be grand, and noble, and captivating. It will always call into action. the best as well as the worst principles in men. It will always afford the true arena for virtuous display, and the meet exercise-ground in this state of discipline. War is only unjust when it is ungenerous; only reprehensible when it is mean. An excess of party-spirit is the degradation of all that is admirable in human nature. Contempt and ridicule are its extreme accompaniments; rancour and revenge its internal ones, and ruin to the body it inheres in, its righteous conclusions. We have ceased for a considerable period to form an integral portion of any Students' Society, and so we shall not be supposed to mean particular allusions under cover of general observations. We come now to deal with that other monster evil of Students' Societies, supineness and lethargy. This is the canker-worm which eats them all away. It is so much the more difficult to be detected, as, from its very nature, it puts to sleep the individual conscience. There is no self-reproach where all are to blame. This lethargy becomes a malady both contagious and infectious. It thrives on individual neglect, and vegetates and flourishes on deserted meetings and empty halls. To apply these observations to a particular case, we well remember the indignation we felt, before entering one of these societies, at the indifference to its public appointments sometimes manifested by the members. And when we formed part and parcel thereof, we endeavoured to swell |