soul of that holy man. And there before you is the and how he druve the sarpints, and all manner of venomstone where he knelt all the time of his sleep, or his en- ous things, out of Ireland-how he bothered all the chantment, or whatever it was; and there are the prints varmint entirely; but for all that there was one ould of that holy man's knees in the stone, that your honour sarpint left, who was too cunning to be talked out of has drawn out so completely."-Vol. I. p. 19-24. the country, and made to drown himself. Saint Patrick Most of our readers, we suppose, have heard, that if didn't well know how to manage this fellow, who was it rains on St Swithin's Day, it is certain to rain for doing great havoc; till at long last he bethought himforty days afterwards. If they will peruse the follow-self, and got a strong iron chest made with nine boults ing legend, they will find out the cause of this very remarkable fact: THE DEATH OF ST SWITHIN. upon it. 1 6 "So, one fine morning he takes a walk to where the sarpint used to keep; and the sarpint, who didn't like the Saint in the least, and small blame to him for that, began to hiss and show his teeth at him like any thing. Oh,' says St Patrick, says he, where's the use of making such a piece of work about a gentleman like myself coming to see you-'Tis a nice house I have got made for you agin the winter, for I am going to civilize the whole country, man and beast,' says he, and you can come and look at it whenever you please, and 'tis myself will be glad to see you.' "The sarpint, hearing such smooth words, thought, that though St Patrick had druve all the rest of the sarpints into the sea, he meant no harm to himself; so the surpint walks fair and easy up to see him, and the house he was speaking about. But when the sarpint saw the nine great boults upon the chest, he thought he was sould, (betrayed,) and was for making off with himself as fast as ever he could. 66 "Tis a nice warm house, you see,' says Saint Patrick, and 'tis a good friend I am to you." "I thank you kindly, Saint Patrick, for your civility,' says the sarpint, but I think it's too small it is for me,'-meaning it for an excuse, and away he was going. 6 "Too small!' says Saint Patrick, stop, if you please,' says he; you're out in that, my boy, any how I am sure 'twill fit you completely; and, I'll tell you what,' says he, I'll bet you a gallon of porter,' says he, that if you'll only try and get in, there'll be plenty of room for you.' "St Swithin was a priest, and a very holy man,-so holy that he went by no other name than that of the blessed priest. He was not like the priests now-a-days, who ride about on fine horses, with spectacles stuck upon their noses, and horsewhips in their hands, and polished boots on their legs, that fit them as nate as a Limerick glove, (God forgive me for spaking ill of the clargy, but some of them have no more conscience than a pig in a p'ratie garden ;) Saint Swithin was not that kind of priest, no such thing; for he did nothing but pray from morning till night, so that he brought a blessing on the whole country round; and could cure all sorts of diseases, and was so charitable that he'd give away the shirt off his back. Then, whenever he went out, it was quite plain and sober, on a rough little mountainy garran, and he thought himself grand entirely if his big ould-fashioned boots got a rub of the grase. It was no wonder he should be called the blessed priest, and that the people far and near should flock to him to mass and confession, or that they thought it a blessed thing to have hum lay his hand on their heads. It's a pity the likes of him should ever die, but there's no help for death; and sure if he wasn't so good entirely, he'd have been left, and not be taken away as he was; for 'tis them that are most wanted are the first to go. The news of his death flew about like lightning; and there was nothing but ullagoning through all the country,— and they had no less than right, for they lost a good friend the day he died. However, from ullagoning they soon came to fighting about where he was to be buried. His own parish wouldn't part with him if they got half Ireland, and sure they had the best right to him; but the next parish wanted to get him by the lauve laider, (strong hand,) for they thought it would bring a blessing on them to have his bones among them; so his own parishioners at last took and buried him by night, without the others knowing any thing about it. When the others heard it, they were tearing mad, and raised a large faction, thinking to take him up and carry him away in spite of his parishioners; so they had a great battle upon it; but those who had the best right to him were beat out and out, and the others were just going to take him up, when there came, all at once, such rain as was never seen before or since; it was so heavy that they were obliged to run away half dround- "Let you out, my darling?' says Saint Patrick, to ed, and give it up as a bad job. They thought, how-be sure I will, by all manner of means; but, you see, ever, that it wouldn't last long, and that they could come again; but they were out in that, for it never stopped raining in that manner for forty days, so they were obliged to give it up entirely; and ever since that time there's always more or less rain on St Swithin's day, and for forty days after."-Vol. I. p. 100—3. We have room for only one more story, but it shall be a good one. That "St Patrick was a gentleman,' we trust, is a part of the moral belief of every sincere Christian; and should the least shadow of doubt regarding this momentous point remain on the mind of any one, let him peruse, with the deepest attention, the following historical tradition : THE LAST OF THE SARPINTS. "The serpent, is it? said Picket in reply. Sure, every body has heard tell of the blessed Saint Patrick, | The sarpint was as thirsty as could be with his walk, and 'twas great joy to him the thoughts of doing Saint Patrick out of the gallon of porter; so, swelling himself up as big as he could, in he got to the chest, all but a little bit of his tail. There now,' says le, I've won the gallon, for you see the house is too small for me, for I can't get in my tail.' When, what does Saint Patrick do, but he comes behind the great heavy lid of the chest, and, putting his two hands to it, down he slaps it with a bang like thunder. When the rogue of a sarpint saw the lid coming down, in went his tail like a shot, for fear of being whipped off him, and Saint Patrick began at once to boult the nine iron boults. "Oh! murder! Won't you let me out, Saint Patrick?' says the sarpint― I've lost the bet fairly, and I'll pay you the gallon like a man.' I haven't time now, so you must wait till to-morrow.' And so he took the iron chest, with the sarpint in it, and pitches it into the lake here, where it is to this hour, for certain; and 'tis the sarpint struggling down at the bottom that makes the waves upon it. Many is the living man, continued Picket, besides myself, has hard the sarpint crying out, from within the chest under the water,' Is it to-morrow yet?-Is it to-morrow yet ?' Saint Patrick settled the last of the sarpints, sir.”— which, to be sure, it never can be: And that's the way Vol. I. p. 180-3. In conclusion, we have only to say, that we wish Mr Croker had been a little more careful in his selection of materials, and that if he will take pains, we think his next book is much more likely to contain more of the pure ore than any he has yet given to the world. Observations upon the several Sunday Services of the Church, prescribed by the Liturgy, throughout the Year. By the Right Reverend Alexander Jolly, D.D., one of the Bishops of the Protestant Episcopal Communion in Scotland. Edinburgh. Robert Grant, Lothian Street. 1828. Pp. 258. THIS little work, written by a learned and pious bishop of the Scotch Episcopal Church, was published a short time ago, and has lately come under our notice. It is deserving of attention, both on account of its utility in reference to the Christian public at large, and more particularly to those who are members of the Episcopal Communion in Scotland. The volume is principally occupied with the Catechetical instruction which the venerable author has been in the practice of imparting, during the long period of his ministry, to the young persons of his congregation in Frazerburgh, where he resides as Bishop of the diocese of Moray. The peculiarity of style, which is, perhaps, rather antiquated, is amply counterbalanced by the spirit of devotional feeling that flows through the work, and by the two most essential qualities of good composition, perspicuity and precision, which are never lost sight of, even under the absorbing influence of the most devout religious reflection. In the introduction, prefixed to the work, there are contained some excellent practical observations on the general forms of the Church, together with occasional remarks on the Liturgy, tending briefly to show its great propriety and beauty. The Bishop's "Observations" begin with the first Sunday in Advent, and end with the last Sunday after Trinity; and as the Church Services include the Morning and Evening Lessons, together with the proper Collect, Epistle and Gospel for the day, the comments made on them are calculated to show the admi- | rable relation they bear to one another, and to point out the proper results to be gained from the whole taken in connexion. All that the author, however, professes to do, is to supply hints which may afford matter of devout reflection and meditation upon the reading and hearing of the Services; and the subject, it must be confessed, admits unquestionably of a more extensive range of illustration than could possibly have been obtained within the circumscribed limits of the present work. But the Bishop has done more than he has promised. We particularly like his remarks on the different festivals, according to the order in which they occur in the Church of England, in which he points out the reasons of their institution and the propriety of their observance. Nor does he omit to notice the inferior church holy-days, and the advantages resulting from their being retained according to the practice of the primitive church. Having thus bestowed our praise to the extent to which we think it is merited, we consider it justice to the author to add, that the present work is not to be taken as a fair specimen of his profound theological learning; in which, we believe, few are, at the present day, his superiors. The practical religious instruction of the Christian reader has been more his aim, than the further advancement of those who are already well versed in theological acquirements. In conclusion, we shall only add, that this work of Bishop Jolly's may be safely recommended as an excellent manual of devotion, to be used in conjunction with the book of common prayer, with the principles contained in which those of the author are in the strictest accordance. The Step-mother; a Tragedy, in five Acts. By Jacob Jones, Esq. of the Inner Temple, and formerly of Brazen-nose College, Oxford, author of "Longinus," a Tragedy, and other works. London. Hurst, Chance, & Co. 1829. WE do not consider it necessary to notice this Tragedy at much length. The plot, which is entirely ficti tious, outrages all probability; and this defect is not atoned for to any great extent by the beauty of the poetry. To some readers, the following couplet would be quite enough to stamp the character of the whole : To rule not one man, but a many men, A many, many years, oh! this is glorious. We must give, however, in addition, the Step-mother's opening speech in the second act, which, we daresay, Mr Jones thinks more like a speech of Lady Macbeth than any thing that has been written since the days of Shakspeare, but which we think the most consummate bombast, short of sheer lunacy, ever put into the lips of woman: (Step-mother discovered, pacing to and fro, in her outer The cherubim-environed throne of God! The plot is very much what this speech would lead one to expect, exceedingly bloody, and "most unnatural." Greek Extracts, chiefly from the Attic Writers; with a Vocabulary. For the use of the Edinburgh Academy. Edinburgh. Oliver & Boyd. 1829. THIS is a very judicious selection of Greek readings, for the use of students who are only commencing their ac quaintance with that language. Such a book was needed, for the excellent "Čollectanea Græca Minora" of Professor Dalzell is almost the only work of the kind that is used in schools in this country; and teachers must have painfully felt the monotony and lassitude arising from going over it again and again. We do not mean that these new "Greek Extracts" should supersede the "Collectanea," but that they will form an agreeable variety, the more especially, as we perceive the editor has quite properly introduced very few of the arooTaouaria, or excerpts, chosen by Dalzell. Though the Extracts are principally from the Attic writers, he has given a few specimens also, under separate heads, of the Ionic, Epic, Doric, and Eolic Greek. A vocabulary and a few notes are added; and the typography of the whole is exceedingly distinct and appropriate. Remarks on Coffee, with Directions for making it, selected from various sources. Edinburgh. John Reid, Grocer, Tea and Coffee dealer. classes of society, in this country, upon the subject of THE ignorance which prevails among all ranks and Coffee, has been to us the source of a deep and abiding melancholy. How many times have we sat, like Rachel, in the drawing rooms of the rich and noble, and felt the big tears chasing each other down our manly cheeks, as we saw and tasted the tepid and muddy de ? "Semper ego auditor tantum !" Will the time never dawn when coffee may be drunk in Great Britain-in Scotland-in Edinburgh? Yes, it will dawn! and we trust the light is breaking in even now. Animated with a noble enthusiasm, Mr John Reid (22, South Frederick Street) we write the name and address with pleasurehas published, at his own risk, “Remarks on Coffee, with Directions for Making it." Both are excellent; and to all who have any serious desire to enjoy life, we recommend a perusal of Mr Reid's work, and a civilized, enlightened, and regular consumption of his coffee. For our own part, we authorise Mr Reid to send us forthwith a trial of his "finest Mocha," and we shall never leave him as long as we live, if it affords us onehalf of the satisfaction we anticipate. MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE. REMARKS UPON A PROPOSED IMPROVED STANDARD (By the Reverend Dr Morehead.) coction, which the urbanity of our manners forced us to filter in tea-spoonfuls through our throats, notwithstanding the nausea and slight convulsive tendency which each succeeding spoonful contributed to increase! We have met with ladies too, false deceitful syrens, who prided themselves on their proficiency in the art of making coffee, who assured us that good coffee was almost never to be got, that they could drink it nowhere except in their own house, and that they were happy to have found at last one able to appreciate the value of so delicious a beverage. Animated by such sympathetic and beautiful observations, the cloud has for a moment passed off our brow, the sunshine of hope again sparkled in our expressive eye, and we almost believed, with a bounding heart, that we had at length discovered the darling object of our unceasing anxiety-a female capable, as Sir Henry Steuart would say, " of giving immediate effect to coffee." If she was unmarried, we determined to throw ourself and fortune at her feet; if she was a wife, we eagerly ruminated on the contingencies which might put a speedy termination to the existence of her husband. Alas, it was a dream that had a stormy wakening! Soon, too soon, were we recalled to reality! The servant brought us a cup of coffee, "weak as water, and cool as a zephyr," distinguished only by a slight bitterness of flavour, indicating that the berry had been roasted to a cinder, and then pulverized at a single beat, and that boiling water was an article of which the household lived in the profoundest ignorance. Nothing could have increased our despair but the appalling fear, which flashed upon us like lightning, that the poison ous liquid we had been induced to drink might have owed its existence to an infusion of that most disgraceful of all human inventions-Hunt's roasted corn! Since the year 1652, coffee has been drank in this country, and since the year 1652, the art of making it It has not unfrequently been a matter of some spe has remained stationary. It is far otherwise in France. culation how it should have happened, that, amidst the There are at this moment three thousand coffee-houses wide diffusion of literary talent in the present age, so in Paris, and the presiding goddess of each coffee-house little seems to have gone to the support of a very favour. devotes her life and her abilities to the making of coffee. ite and popular style of writing, which was in great No wonder that the Emperor Alexander fell in love with vogue in this island from the time of Addison downone of these fascinating beings, and "looked and sipped, ward, to within the last fifty years. I mean, essays and sipped and looked, and sipped again." If there is any descriptive of living manners, and replete with moral and one talent which we admire in the Parisians more than prudential observation. In some respects, the age seems all the rest, it is that of making coffee. Bernier, the tra- to feel itself above this kind of training; the subject veller, when at Grand Cairo, was assured that there were has, perhaps, been exhausted in the manner in which it only two persons in that large city, who were able to has hitherto been taken up the follies of fashionable prepare the beverage in that high perfection to which he life have been sufficiently exposed-enough has been had been accustomed at Paris. Can imagination con- done to point out the evils of ignorance, of clownish jure up to itself any picture more perfectly epicurean manners, or of courtly levities and moral maxims and delightful, than a company of French ladies and have been already so pointedly expressed, or so eloquentgentlemen, who have retired to the saloon or drawing-ly dilated upon, that it seems in vain to attempt doing room, after a splendid dinner, and are there luxuriating over this ambrosial liqueur, whether the café noir, pure as amber and strong as brandy, be preferred, or the café à lait, hot from the percolater coffee-pot, and enriched with a glorious infusion of boiling cream! To the Editor of the Edinburgh Literary Journal. SIR,If I could be of use to your work in any more important way than that which I have hitherto attempted, it would be much more to the purpose that I should lend you such aid; but, as I cannot greatly depend upon my own exertions, you will, perhaps, allow me, instead, to make a few suggestions to you, which may be much better carried into execution by younger and abler hands. over again what has already been done, on many occasions, so incomparably well. The essayists of England make no great figure after Dr Johnson. The grand theatre of London and of English observation seemed then to close. A select company of gentlemen opened, To us the recollection of the coffee we have drunk at for a season, our little provincial theatre of Edinburgh, Paris, constitutes the chief enjoyment we experience in and endeavoured here too to hold their Mirror up to the exercise of memory. There is a softened melancholy nature. The success was very flattering and deserved in the reminiscence, that seems to shed a benigner influ- but the field (to change the metaphor) was too narrow ence over the weak tea, which it is now our destiny to to admit of being beaten more than once or twice. The swallow. In the minds of all men, indeed, coffee ought veteran leader of the chase still survives, in a fresh old to be associated with every thing that is classical and age, the object of the love and veneration of his coundignified. Without coffee Schiller would never have trymen; but there has been no more attempt in that written" Wallenstein ;" it was to him the very foun- shape to "try what the open, what the covert yield." tain of inspiration. Without coffee Bonaparte would The same thing, it is true, has been tried in a differnever have been Emperor of France, and let it be re-ent, and it may be, in some respects, an improved form. corded to his honour, that the conqueror of Europe has left behind him a receipt for making coffee. "Coffee," says Dr Kitchiner, "as used on the continent, serves the double purpose of an agreeable tonic, and an exhilarating beverage.' "Coffee," says an old writer, "fortifies the soul within, quickens the spirits, and makes the heart lightsome." The understanding and the affections have since been assailed in powerful verse and prose, and lessons have been indirectly conveyed, under the form of fiction, or in speculation on all subjects, philosophical, moral, and political. I doubt not that the mind of the age has, on the whole, been improving ;-knowledge has been widely extended, and has found its way into the lowest classes of society; yet I think it is a pity that the didactic tone has been so much dropped, and that, with all this deluge of ideas and feelings pouring upon them from every quarter, men have been left so much to pick up their moral impressions like casual pebbles from the channel. To return again exactly into the track of our old masters would not do. You have somewhere asked whether it is quite hopeless to look again for a Spectator or a Rambler. It is so, if we do not take into account the difference of times; but if that is attended to, something much more important in its results than either of these oracles of former days, if not so excellent or perfect in execution, may still arise among us. required, if they were only aware of the call which is made to them. The great aim of the Spectator was to inculcate morals, manners, and the love of knowledge, upon the middling classes of society, who were then pressing forward into the sphere of the higher and better instructed circles. It effected its object with singular tact and ability; and whilst it holds out models of English composition which have never been excelled, and a delicacy of wit and humour which is quite inimitable, its lead-manity, propriety, or genuine politeness. All kind of ing praise is the benevolent and Christian perseverance with which it pursues its great aim, never deviating to the right hand or to the left. There was still room for many successors to follow in the same track; the follies to be ridiculed, and the vices to be reproved, in the classes of men over whom its sway had been exercised, still presented themselves in new forms, and gave opportunity for the efforts of the satirist and the moralist. The work, however, became colder and heavier as it went on; and certainly in none of the Essayists that succeed the Spectator do we find the same freshness, elegance, and exuberance. The Rambler, accordingly, seems to have had in view another phasis of human society. The ludicrous ignorance of the middling ranks was now driven off the field -the ladies could not only spell and read romances, but even there were scholars among Dr Johnson's own female friends, who were at home in Greek. An audience of a very wide description was now prepared to listen to scholastic essays, which enhanced the weight of their matter by a diction somewhat approaching to pedantry. Even pleasantry itself assumed a stately and reasoning garb. The improvement to be effected upon the reading classes, at that period, was to accustom them | to a more pointed concentration of thought, and terseness of expression; and the genius of Johnson was admirably adapted for the task which he had undertaken. This work too was completed, and it was now requisite that the business of ethical instruction should in a great degree stand still, till a wider circle was opened for its reception. In the meanwhile, the work of intellectual progress has been rapidly advancing. Wit has been sharpened, imagination filled, knowledge accumulated, to a far more extensive range than has ever hitherto been known in the world; and the circle of human beings whose minds are opening to the necessities of every social and moral improvement, has widened to an extent that forms quite a new era in the history of the species. Here then, Sir, I maintain that all the grand principles of morals and religion come before us, again to be enforced in a new and much more animating strain than ever--because the audience to whom such admonitions are to be addressed, is not now any limited portion of society, such as the higher orders, or those immediately below them; but it is the whole mass of the people, whose principles are to be regulated and fixed, whose vices and follies are to be pruned away, whose humours are to be examined and understood, and whose feelings are to be sympathized with and soothed. This is now the splendid field open to the didactic writer-a field which has long been growing white to the harvest; and although the labourers have yet scarcely entered upon it, I apprehend they are standing prepared, and are quite as numerous as is It strikes me that a noble opportunity is afforded you, and your able co-adjutors, to enter upon this great field the most important and sublime which has yet been presented to the powers of literary exertion. I cannot pretend to point out the ways and means by which the work may be most effectually performed. I would not wish to trammel by rules any of the walks of genius; but I could wish, that whatever they are writing, whether prose, poetry, criticism, or original observation, the literary men of our age would keep a steady eye to the wide audience whom they are addressing, and would lay it down as a sacred principle, to advance nothing which could prove an offence to "one of these little ones;" but would, on the contrary, use and seek every opportunity to inculcate a pure and vigorous morality on the minds of the people of every rank-using the word morality in its largest acceptation, as including behaviour of every kind, whether flowing from religion, huwriting, then, might bear upon this grand object; but besides, it appears to me that there is again more peculiarly a field opened for the moral or didactic essay, on the model of the Spectator and the Rambler, only varied so as to meet the new exigencies of the times, and expanded so as to take in the much wider range of society upon which it is to be brought to operate. And if I am not mistaken, your pages afford space for such an undertaking, even if it were to be attempted weekly, without any encroachment upon the room allotted for mere literary matter. As to the requisite writers, I do not see that you can be at any great loss. Those whom you have already enrolled among your contributors, can, from their obser.. vation, their talents, and their virtues, do a great deal in this way-if they would only let their minds dwell upon it, and revolve the methods of making the most effectual impression. Can such writers as Professor Wilson, from his inexhaustible stores of thought and expression; the Ettrick Shepherd, from his shrewd observations on men and manners, in the scenes either of pastoral or of city life; Mr Tennant, or Professor Gillespie, who can illustrate their vivid perceptions of living society by examples drawn from Oriental, European, or ancient learning; Mrs Grant, from her multitudinous reminiscences; can persons like these be at fault if they would seek to come forward more prominently as the moral lights of their age?-and what could be required from them, but to rein in somewhat their more unbridled excursions ?-but "to stoop to truth, and moralize their song ?" The grandeur of the theme, and at the same time its simplicity, would inspire men of much inferior talents to the eminent persons I have named, to contribute to your work many useful and pleasing speculations, that would come home to every business and bosom ;" and I am inclined to think that there is no person of genius among our fellow-citizens, however pre-eminent, who would not be willing to become a labourer in the same vineyard of humanity, whenever it was clearly seen what good might be done, and with how little exertion, too, upon their part. Could Sir Walter Scott, Mr Jeffrey, or Dr Chalmers, employ to nobler purpose, or with a greater certainty of grateful acceptance from the public, any little fragments of their time and their meditations, than in pressing upon the hearts of the people some important views of high principle or of daily behaviour, by which they might rise in the scale of moral existence, or alleviate the vexations of life? I do not wish, sir, to detain you or your readers longer with this speculation, which, if it should be fanciful, and bordering upon extravagance, as I have stated it, can yet, I am satisfied, be filtered into much sound and va luable wisdom, if it is permitted to pass through minds better trained to this kind of reflection. I am anxious that, if there is any thing in this plan, you should profit from it, in the first instance, because I think you are really desirous to do all the public good in your power, in the literary office which you have undertaken, and you have given many proofs that you have a full comprehension of its duties, and can both execute and discern. I will own, too, that I have a desire that this undertaking should emanate from the spot where your Journal is published. Several years ago I proposed these views to my friend, the late Mr Constable, when he was busily occupied in projecting his Miscellany. With that sagacious and ardent mind which had so much perception of the drift of public opinion, and so much earnestness that it should be led right, he felt himself greatly inclined to attend to my suggestions; but the difficulty of setting such a work on foot, and providing the proper writers, besides his being so much occupied in the arrangements of his Miscellany, which has now proved so well the soundness of his calculations; and finally, his unexpected misfortunes, all this prevented him from giving it a trial. "Nor time nor place did then adhere They have made themselves; and that their fitness, now," has not, I am thankful, "unmade" me but has rather given me a greater impulse to seek to associate with the memory of that liberal publisher, which ought never to be lightly esteemed in the literary history of Scotland-a scheme, the execution of which promises, in my conception of it, to be so honourable to our country, and so replete with good to mankind. I am, Sir, with great respect, Your obedient servant, to fall into his hands, and cannot resist the idea of horror, with which one must always contemplate, if not death itself, at least what Bacon calls the adjuncts of death. A grave-digger is not more widely divided from the rest of mankind in character than in interests. Death is death to you; but it is life to him. You are happy in recovering, or in hearing of the recovery of a neighbour, from a desperate illness; but such news is like that of blasted corn and rising markets to him. He can have no sympathy with what throws all the rest of the town into anxiety and sorrow the prevalence of an epidemic disease. The wind of March, which takes away old men's breaths, brings breath and health to him. Cold is as warmth to him, and the genial heat of May as the destructive chill of November. As some English divine has emphatically said of the gamester, his business is decidedly unnatural; for he cannot pray for a blessing upon it, without breaking the law which enjoins good-will to men. Like Satan, he has said, “Evil, be thou my good!" We have often thought that, if a grave-digger could be expected to communicate his ideas to paper, a full and free confession, after the manner of Rousseau, of his whole thoughts and sentiments, would form a most curious book. Such a thing would be a sort of revelation. It would inform mankind of a distinct race-almost of another world. Grave-diggers are the pioneers, or videttes of mankind, on their march to the grave. They are nearer the land of forgetfulness than we are; and if they would but send back to the main army the intelligence they have picked up on their advanced posts, it would be so much towards a disclosure of the awful secret. In clearing away the brushwood of the grave, may not some one of them have caught a glimpse of that dark, or that glorious land, towards which we all hasten ? Out of curiosity respecting so sigular a people, we have collected some anecdotes of various individuals of the species, which may perhaps be found illustrative of their character and manners. John Prentice, the grave-digger of Carnwath in Lanarkshire, had a pleasant équivoque, which he constantly used on hearing of the death of any person." Hech whow!" he would say; "is dead? I wad rather it had been other twa." 99 A person once asked John Prentice if he considered himself at liberty to pray for his daily bread. "Dear sake, sir,' he answered," the Lord's Prayer tells us that, ye ken."-" Ay, but," said the querist, "do you think you can do that, consistent with the command which enjoins us to wish no evil to our neighbours ?" "Dear sake, sirs," cried John, rather puzzled ; 66 ye ken fouk maun be buriet!" This was quite natural, and very conclusive. GRAVE-DIGGERS are a peculiar people-differing from the rest of mankind in character and personal appearance. Yet, what is strange, a grave-digger fit, non nascitur-the reverse of the poet. The secret of the dis- The grave-digger of Sorn, in Ayrshire, was as seltinction must be, that it requires one to be of a peculiar fish and as mean a wretch as ever handled mattock or character, and consequently figure, to become a grave- carried mortcloth. He was a very querulous and disdigger. One may be destined, though not born, a grave- contented old man, with a voice like the whistle of the digger. He may have in him from conception the wind through a key-hole, on a bleak Sunday afternoon germs of the qualities of a grave-digger; he comes into in the country. An acquaintance from a neighbouring the world with them; he bears them about with him parish accosted him one day, and asked how the world during his boyhood, youth, maturity, and middle-age; was standing with him. "Oh, very puirly, sir-very and when he arrives at the full ripeness of grave-digger-puirly, indeed!" was the answer; "the yard has dune ism, the place falls vacant, and he steps into the dead man's shoes, as naturally as a son succeeds a father in an entailed estate. Though you know that a grave-digger is a mortal like yourself, and may die long before you, it is impossible to help feeling an antipathy to the animal, on the score that he is to handle your precious person with his ignoble hands when you shall be passive and powerless. One looks upon a grave-digger, especially the grave-digger of one's own parish, supposing you to be a settler, as a sort of executioner. You think you are destined naething ava for us this simmer. If ye like to believe me, I have na buriet a leevin' soul this six weeks!" John Somerville, the bellman and sexton of Manor in Peebles-shire, a singularly greedy old man, used to haunt people who were likely soon to require his services, like a shark following a fever-ship at sea. Whenever he heard of any person throughout that extensive parish, having been seized with any thing like mortal illness, he would draw towards the house, inquire with great apparent concern for the sufferer, and repeat his visits every day till the event of either death or reco |