MARLBOROUGH COLLEGE.
[To THE EDITOR OF TEl "SPECTATOR."' SLR,—Many an old boy must, like myself (an alumnus of close on sixty years ago) yearn to thank " G." for his charming lines on Marlborough College in last week's issue. Its friends and lovers must always feel about their old school that, though it may lack the great age of other foundations, at the same time this want is made up for by its picturesque setting in the cup of the little Kennet Valley, nestling at the end of tho unique one street of Marlborough Town, looking up to the swelling breasts of the chalky green downs which mount gradually up to the delights and pleasures of the groat forest of Savernake, and having for ita matrix the old and beautiful mansion of the Hertford and Somerset families, teeming in history and tradition, with its ancient lawns and pleasaunces still existing, planted around the remains of an older civiliza- tion still in the ruins of the Saxon and Roman castle, which stood many a siege. With all these points in its favour, Marlborough College yields to no other place in pride of poetry and association, which have steeped the minds and helped to form, the characters of throw generations, and all of us old ones who are left, and our sons, and our sons sons, whom we have sent to follow us, and who are now making history anew, will feel a debt of obligation to the author of the spirited lines on the dear old school.—I am, Sir, &e.,
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